A Max-Level Film Queen Takes on the Scumbag Alpha Script [Transmigration] - Chapter 3

“You’re saying you want to quit Shining 404?!”

Song Jia looked at Jiang Baihe in utter bewilderment. Jiang Baihe was currently holding a teacup, savoring the flavor of the tea as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. Song Jia felt that one of them must have lost their mind today.

Otherwise, how could she be hearing something so fantastical?

She looked at Jiang Baihe with concern and said, “Baihe, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately with the constant trending scandals… but about withdrawing from the race, shouldn’t we discuss this properly?”

Jiang Baihe sighed, set down her teacup, and said frankly, “To be precise, I hope to be eliminated through the normal process.”

Before transmigrating, Jiang Baihe had been scouted by a major director at the age of sixteen. After a few days of crash-course acting training, she was thrown into a film the director had spent years preparing, playing the younger version of the female lead. The movie became an overnight sensation, making Jiang Baihe a star from her very first appearance on the silver screen. From there, she got into the Central Academy of Drama, took on various scripts, and spent over a decade walking the path of a professional actress.

To her, acting was her true forte; the singing, dancing, and rapping of an idol survival show didn’t suit her at all.

Jiang Baihe laid out her plans and vision to her manager. As Song Jia watched the girl—who suddenly became radiant and spirited the moment acting was mentioned—her attention began to drift.

She remembered the first time she met Jiang Baihe.

The Jiang Baihe of back then wasn’t nearly as easy to talk to as she was today. She wore her arrogance and conceit like a badge on her forehead, her Alpha aura aggressively flared. The moment she entered Sihai Entertainment, she had rudely demanded the best manager from the CEO, looking every bit the “scumbag” and a fool.

Song Jia admitted that when she chose to take Jiang Baihe under her wing, she had her own motives. She valued Jiang Baihe’s background and looks, thinking that with such good conditions, things couldn’t go too wrong. But after actually working together, Song Jia realized that those were the only two things Jiang Baihe possessed.

She had regretted it many times, feeling like she had picked up a hot potato. She often wished Jiang Baihe would change even just a little, but she never expected a surprise to come so suddenly.

Song Jia straightened her expression and asked seriously, “Baihe, are you for real this time?”

Jiang Baihe looked up, a confident smile on her face. She sat with her hands clasped, her posture relaxed, yet she looked like an empress on a dragon throne in total control.

A familiar yet domineering Alpha scent drifted faintly in the air. As a Beta, Song Jia couldn’t smell it, but her body reacted instinctively; she rubbed the goosebumps on her arms as she heard Jiang Baihe speak in that gentle, enchanting voice:

“I promise you. The survival show isn’t my stage. Acting is.”

After two months of fierce competition, Shining 404 finally arrived at the “20 into 12” round. Eight contestants would be eliminated in a single night, making the intensity of the competition higher than ever.

Unlike previous team battles, the competition from the Top 20 onwards consisted of individual performances. Contestants needed to show real skill to advance. The scoring system now included an audience vote, with a 6:4 ratio between mentor scores and audience scores.

The day of the recording arrived in the blink of an eye.

Unlike other survival shows, Shining 404 was broadcast as a live show—no edits, no retakes! How a contestant performed and where they ranked would be decided in a single night.

Song Jia escorted a yawning Jiang Baihe out of the van. They went through the VIP passage to the backstage area to sign in. Even though she knew their goal today was a “graceful elimination,” Song Jia was still worried about Jiang Baihe’s performance. After all, if she did too poorly, Jiang Baihe would be dragged across the trending charts for days of public shaming once the live broadcast ended.

After signing in, Jiang Baihe had to go to the dressing room to prepare her makeup for the night; managers were not allowed inside.

Before they parted, Song Jia looked at the lazy-looking Jiang Baihe, hesitated, and finally offered a word of encouragement: “Good luck! Try to get out of last place!”

Jiang Baihe burst out laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll work hard tonight and aim for second-to-last then.”

Seeing Song Jia’s short blonde hair practically bristle in mock rage, Jiang Baihe playfully stuck out her tongue and turned to run inside.

Her dance foundation was decent, and her singing was average—not exactly heavenly, but she wasn’t tone-deaf either. She had spent three days practicing like crazy to reclaim the skills she had before transmigrating, but she didn’t truly know how well she would do. She could only say she’d give it her all.

There were two dressing rooms backstage, bustling with people. As soon as Jiang Baihe entered, she was ushered into a seat by an assigned makeup artist.

“Baihe, you’re here!”

A “moe” girl sitting to her left greeted her enthusiastically. Her sweet voice carried a hint of intimacy, as if the two were very close.

Jiang Baihe glanced at her and searched her memory for a name—Li Ran.

She was the idol that the “Lihua” fans (the ones bashing Jiang Baihe on Star-Blog) supported. She was also…

Jiang Baihe gave her a meaningful look and offered a brief “Mhm” in response.

Sensing a coldness different from Jiang Baihe’s usual demeanor, the smile on Li Ran’s face stiffened. She composed herself and spoke in a tone that seemed to be defending Jiang Baihe: “Those people were so out of line a few days ago. Baihe, if you want first place, all you have to do is say the word. There’s no need for you to do so much work yourself!”

She didn’t lower her voice. Many nearby contestants heard the dialogue and cast looks of disdain toward them. Even the makeup artist working on Jiang Baihe hesitated for a moment.

Jiang Baihe just smiled faintly.

This girl’s words were quite interesting; she might as well have stamped “rigged winner” directly on Jiang Baihe’s forehead. If it had been the original Alpha, she likely would have agreed loudly, cementing the “rigged” reputation and drawing the hatred of every contestant in the room.

But the current Jiang Baihe was no longer that scumbag. She had long grown tired of such low-level tricks. However, she chose not to retaliate too much. Facing an opponent who would soon no longer be a threat, Jiang Baihe was exceptionally magnanimous, even pitying:

“Perhaps you should spend some time looking at today’s Star-Blog.”

This time, Li Ran was truly stunned.

Star-Blog? Why look at Star-Blog? Did something unexpected happen?

Contestants weren’t allowed to carry electronic devices backstage; they could only get them from their managers after the show. Therefore, they couldn’t know the latest updates in real-time.

Seeing Jiang Baihe’s calm and composed manner, Li Ran’s heart began to race with unease. She made an excuse to leave the dressing room and intercepted a staff member halfway. Using the staff member’s phone, she logged into Star-Blog. When she saw the trending list, her vision went black.

Similar to a few days ago, Jiang Baihe’s name was on the list, but the hashtags were no longer malicious. Instead, they were:

• [Jiang Baihe Reversal]

• [The Truth Behind the Water Splashing and Apologies]

The self-media bloggers who had been blacklisting Jiang Baihe a few days ago were now all deleting their posts and issuing humble apologies.

One of them had even identified the mastermind who bribed him to forge chat records—an alternate account of a staff member from Lianyun Entertainment. As it happened, that staff member was Li Ran’s manager!

Originally, these bloggers didn’t want to go this far, but over the past few days, they had received consecutive lawyer letters from both Sihai Entertainment and Sihai Group. The next step was a lawsuit. They thought it was just standard PR intimidation, but they didn’t expect these two giant companies to actually follow through. These bloggers couldn’t sit still anymore!

If they wanted to make money, they had to save their own skins first!

Li Ran watched the shifting tide online. Although Jiang Baihe didn’t have many supporters yet due to her rock-bottom reputation, Li Ran was trembling with rage and an unspeakable panic.

Relying on her harmless Omega appearance, she had been cozying up to Jiang Baihe for a long time. In her eyes, the old Jiang Baihe was just a “scumbag girl”—as long as Li Ran acted cute and praised her Alpha ego, Jiang Baihe would trust her blindly.

She had fished out information that Jiang Baihe “had someone above her,” and knowing how stupid and arrogant she was, Li Ran had pushed every “black pot” (blame) onto her. After all, Jiang Baihe had been cursed so many times; what were a few more scandals?

Just a few days ago, she and her manager had been laughing at Jiang Baihe. Now, it was all backfiring. Being exposed for repeatedly framing a teammate was enough to end Li Ran’s career in the industry.

She had spent her days calculating and plotting, only to find that the one being kicked out of the industry was herself!

“Jiang Baihe! Jiang Baihe!!”

Jiang Baihe didn’t see Li Ran’s current state of manic rage, but she could imagine it. She felt zero sympathy. People who constantly do bad things deserve to be taught a lesson. This applied to Li Ran, and it applied to the original scumbag Alpha.

Now, Li Ran had become the one everyone despised, while the original Alpha’s mess was left for Jiang Baihe to slowly clean up in the future.

She watched Li Ran perform on stage—her voice trembled, her breathing was unsteady, and she even tripped during a dance transition. Jiang Baihe shook her head, knowing Li Ran was finished.

In the previous draw for performance order, Jiang Baihe had drawn the final “grand finale” slot. After waiting for several hours, it was finally her turn.

She wore a long, red ancient Chinese dress. Her hair had been styled into an elaborate ancient updo, and she carried a prop sword.

The stage went pitch black. Jiang Baihe stood in the center, feeling the weight of the sword. She took a deep breath and signaled the staff behind the scenes.

A beam of light hit her from above. A sudden burst of drumbeats echoed. Jiang Baihe stepped to the rhythm and slowly performed her first sword strike.

“The Han troops have already taken the land, the songs of Chu rise from all sides—”

“The Great King’s spirit is spent; how can his concubine bear to live—”

A uniquely resonant segment of operatic singing (Peking Opera style) rang out through the microphone.

The entire audience fell into a stunned silence.