A Max-Level Film Queen Takes on the Scumbag Alpha Script [Transmigration] - Chapter 27

Summer had passed, and in the blink of an eye, it was autumn.

A chilly wind swept across the land; in just one night, the temperature had plummeted. Today’s sky was overcast, carrying a hint of cold, but the biting temperature couldn’t stop people’s enthusiasm for “eating melons” (gossip).

Starting from 1:00 PM, various pieces of dirt on Shen Yun “parachuted” onto the Star-Blog trending list, becoming today’s most explosive and hotly discussed topic.

In the beginning, there was even a spectacle where the scandals would drop off the top spot only to immediately reappear at number one.

It was obvious that different parties were at play: one side was desperately trying to pull down the trending topics and suppress the discussion, while the other was hell-bent on ruining Shen Yun’s reputation.

After a few hours of futile struggling, Shen Yun’s camp finally gave up resistance and “lay flat,” letting the public scold them as they pleased. Consequently, every hour, a new piece of dirt would take the number one spot.

Maliciously stealing roles from other actresses and acting like a diva on set were considered minor issues. What truly shocked netizens was the rumor that Shen Yun was being kept. Of course, Chen Sheng—the man behind Shen Yun—had made early preparations after the dinner party. He remained completely invisible in this trending event, leaving netizens with no way to dig him up; they knew the situation existed, but not who the benefactor was.

Just when everyone thought the “melon-eating” was over, the most popular outcome—the turn from friends to enemies—exploded at 5:00 PM, right when most workers were getting off work. Star-Blog’s traffic surged to another peak. The continuous stream of gossip was so intense that a Star-Blog programmer couldn’t help but post online: “Gotta work overtime again.” While users jokingly comforted the programmer, they immediately dove back into the sea of gossip.

Shen Yun’s former assistant published a thousand-word “little essay” on Star-Blog, accusing Shen Yun of the bullying, verbal abuse, and physical torment she had suffered during her time as an assistant. Furthermore, she exposed how Shen Yun had caused eleven consecutive “N-G” takes on set a few days ago and how she had framed a fellow cast member.

Shen Yun, who had been quiet all day, finally appeared online. The two engaged in a back-and-forth air-battle on Star-Blog, exposing each other’s secrets—one wave of drama after another. Since the farce from a few days ago was still fresh in everyone’s minds, people naturally knew that the “framed cast member” mentioned by the assistant was Jiang Baihe. Netizens began to vent their anger.

[I have to say, Shen Yun is pretty vicious, right? Intentionally slandering an Alpha for using pheromones to suppress an Omega to trigger a gender war… isn’t that just straight-up defamation??]

[If JBH hadn’t coincidentally done that pheromone check a few days ago, she’d have had no way to prove her innocence.]

[Ha, I really want to know how those Shen Yun fans—who were rolling around on JBH’s Star-Blog claiming the report was forged—are feeling right now.]

[I have to ask, does JBH have some kind of ‘Lucky Koi’ constitution? She manages to turn every disaster into a blessing.]

[@SihaiEntertainment Get out here and do your job! Are you saving those lawsuits for the New Year? Sue them!]

[@EternalTribulationOfficial One person’s blood-letter petitioning the crew to recast.]

Though late, it arrived: After a day of silence, the official account of The Eternal Tribulation announced that the production had terminated its partnership with Shen Yun and would select a new actor to refilm her scenes. Simultaneously, Sihai Entertainment leisurely posted photos of the evidence gathered over the past few days and the lawyer’s letter on their official account, silently responding to netizens: They hadn’t been idle; they were actually doing work!

With that, the gossip finally settled. Shen Yun’s reputation was completely ruined. Even if she didn’t leave the industry, her remaining fan count was in a precarious state.

While the internet was in an uproar, the cast was focused on filming. However, aside from the staff working on set, those resting on the sidelines were all secretly on their phones, eating the same gossip.

Today’s scenes mostly belonged to Tang Yuan and Pei Xingyi. Jiang Baihe had a rare moment of leisure, so she sat outside the set eating sunflower seeds with Screenwriter Qin. They had noticed the trending topics, but since they had lived through it and knew the outcome, the gossip felt quite boring to them. Instead, seeing Shen Yun’s fans coming to Jiang Baihe’s Star-Blog to apologize was more entertaining.

Screenwriter Qin cracked a seed and said dryly, “‘Sorry x3, I didn’t mean to scold you, please don’t sue me.’ Wow, they’re really showing their hand now. What they really mean is just that last part about not being sued, right? Senior Sister, what do you think?”

“What is there to think?” Jiang Baihe gathered her seed shells into a trash bag and sneered. “I’m watching with my eyes. If you don’t do anything wrong, you don’t have to fear a ghost knocking at your door. When people do wrong things, they have to pay the price.”

Jiang Baihe didn’t feel a shred of pity or sympathy for Shen Yun’s current situation. Shen Yun was the one who chose to do evil, and only now that she had crashed did she claim to regret it. Jiang Baihe wasn’t the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary; she had no intention of forgiving such people.

Forgiveness is God’s business; my job is to send them to meet Him.

In this circle, there are no regret pills. One wrong step leads to a bottomless abyss. If a single thing had gone differently, she would have been the one being scolded and told to get out of the industry. Jiang Baihe shook her head, thinking that she’d rather spend her time chatting with Little President Yan than eating this gossip.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the entrance of the set. Jiang Baihe and Screenwriter Qin turned curiously to look, only to see Shen Yun—wearing a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and large black sunglasses—rushing in. Jiang Baihe was wondering why she was still hanging around when Shen Yun took off her glasses. Her face was weak and pale as she bowed deeply to Jiang Baihe.

“I’m sorry, Baihe. I know I was wrong. I am officially apologizing to you now!”

Jiang Baihe: “…”

The entire crew: “…”

Jiang Baihe gave a half-smile and scanned the surroundings to make sure no paparazzi were filming before asking, “What are you trying to do now?”

Someone tugged on her right sleeve. Jiang Baihe turned slightly and saw Screenwriter Qin handing her a phone. Jiang Baihe skimmed the screen and saw the ultimatum sent by the assistant to Shen Yun, demanding she apologize to the public and the victims, or she would release even bigger dirt.

Jiang Baihe: “…” Wait, Shen Yun has MORE dirt? Is there gossip I don’t know about?

Jiang Baihe blinked. She suddenly remembered that when Shen Yun framed her, she seemed to use a prescription inducing agent. Those agents are strictly controlled and don’t usually circulate on the market. How did Shen Yun get her hands on it? Jiang Baihe felt there was still a story untold, but she wasn’t a professional gossip-monger. She simply lowered her gaze and said indifferently: “The person you should be sorry to isn’t me, it’s yourself. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Thank you.”

Like a whirlwind, Shen Yun arrived in a hurry and left in a hurry, leaving the crew with an incomplete “melon” to chew on. Seeing the strange atmosphere on set, Song Zhishu picked up his megaphone and roared, a sound that startled everyone awake.

“Wrap it up! 7:00 AM tomorrow! Everyone assemble! Destination—City J!”

Thick clouds blocked the sun. At 7:00 AM, the crew of The Eternal Tribulation gathered outside the City A filming base, waiting for the bus to take them to the neighboring city. Jiang Baihe turned her head and sneezed.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Song Jia asked anxiously. “Did you catch a cold? I told you to wear more when you went out!” On the day of departure, Song Jia specifically woke up early to see Jiang Baihe off. All the way there, she had been lecturing Xiao Xu on the details of location shooting, looking like she wanted to give them a safety education class on the spot. Seeing the weather turn cold, she worried Jiang Baihe might get a headache or fever that would affect her acting.

Jiang Baihe rubbed her nose and said vaguely, “I’m fine, just a little itch in my nose.”

“That’s exactly a symptom of a cold!” Song Jia glared at her and ordered: “I put some common medicine in your bag. As soon as you get on the bus, mix a packet of Ganmaoling and drink it.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Jiang Baihe agreed casually. Song Jia’s nagging reminded her exactly of an old mother sending her child far away, and she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“Laugh, that’s all you know how to do.” Song Jia tapped Jiang Baihe’s head and scolded her with a helpless smile. Knowing Jiang Baihe couldn’t be relied upon, she turned to Xiao Xu: “Remember to keep a close eye on your Sister Baihe. You can’t let her have her way.”

“Understood, Sister Song!” Xiao Xu accepted the mission solemnly. “I promise to complete the mission!”

Song Jia nodded with satisfaction. “I’ll talk to you about future developments after you wrap and come back.”

“Any arrangements currently?”

Song Jia: “A few new scripts have been sent over, but the earliest start date is still months away. So I’ve looked at a few variety shows and programs for you. You can pick for yourself when you return.”

Jiang Baihe nodded. “Okay.” Although she preferred acting, variety shows were the most popular format lately. Performing well could attract a lot of fans. Jiang Baihe wasn’t stubborn; she wouldn’t ignore other paths. When needed, she could do variety or stage plays, though her focus remained on acting.

The two chatted for a few more minutes. Song Jia noticed Jiang Baihe was absentmindedly scrolling through her phone and asked in a low voice: “You’re going to be away for so long, isn’t President Yan coming to see you off?”

“She has an early meeting today, so I didn’t let her come.” Not just today—last night, Yan Shu had worked until dawn. Apparently, there was an issue with an overseas branch that required cross-border video conferences. Recalling how a groggy Yan Shu had tried to climb out of bed this morning to drive her to the set, Jiang Baihe smiled softly.

How could she bear to let Little President Yan work that hard? She had immediately tucked Yan Shu back into bed and pulled up the covers before dragging her suitcase out the door alone.

Song Jia raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid the relationship will cool off after being apart for so long?”

Jiang Baihe’s lips curled. “What’s there to fear?”

If love between two people is long-lasting, it doesn’t need to be every morning and evening. It was only a month, not forever. Moreover…

Sihai Group

Yan Shu was walking with Special Assistant Jin Wen, discussing the unresolved issues from last night as they stepped into the CEO’s private elevator. Upon reaching the 42nd floor, a secretary met them and said professionally, “President Yan, someone sent something for you this morning.”

Yan Shu signaled Jin Wen to wait and asked indifferently, “Who? What was sent?”

The secretary brought over a bouquet of roses from the desk. There were only nine, but they were fresh and beautiful, still covered in morning dew. Yan Shu froze slightly as she took the flowers. Nestled among the blooms was a pink card.

She pursed her lips and slowly took the card, unfolding it. A line of familiar handwriting appeared:

“Little President Yan, even if I’m not here this month, remember to miss me~” — From: One Little White Crane.