A Scummy Alpha Director is Always Breaking Character - Chapter 3

Chu Yu returned to her villa, located halfway up a mountain on the outskirts of the city. It was far from the bustle, as the original owner preferred quiet. Chu Yu was actually quite pleased with this particular detail.

Upon arriving home, she showered, put on a facial mask, and sat on the sofa to seriously deliberate on a PR strategy. She needed to salvage her image as much as possible without causing further harm to Lin Yi.

The press conference had been live-streamed; the whole country had seen it. There was zero chance of retracting the news from the reporters. All she could do now was damage control.

Chu Yu took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself before opening Weibo.

Even though she had anticipated the backlash based on the novel’s plot, seeing the comments with her own eyes was far more terrifying than any written description.

…

“I knew this scummy Alpha Chu Yu wasn’t up to any good!”

“I thought my CP (couple) was finally going to have a Happy Ending, why this again? Chu Yu, I hate you!”

“How has a director like Chu Yu not been blacklisted yet? Who is actually watching movies directed by this thing?”

“Boycott Chu Yu!”

“Learn to be a decent human before becoming an artist. Chu Yu, you don’t deserve to be human.”

…

Chu Yu sighed softly. She was truly loathed.

At least the system allowed her the chance to make amends afterward without triggering a loop.

As the system stated: [Compensating after causing harm is consistent with the ‘Scummy Alpha’ persona. No reward points will be deducted, and no punishment mode will be entered.]

Chu Yu: “…”

When she tried to apologize earlier, she got a “Scummy Alpha Progress +1” notification. Now, she wanted to fix the mess she made, and it was still considered “scummy” behavior. She let out a heavy sigh.

She typed and deleted, typed and deleted. No matter how she phrased the apology, the words felt hollow. Actions speak louder than words, but she didn’t dare make any unilateral decisions regarding Lin Yi anymore.

After a moment’s thought, the “puppy” began editing a post:

@ChuYu: Today’s press conference wasn’t actually what it seemed, and my relationship with Lin Yi isn’t what everyone thinks it is. I’ll keep the specific reasons a secret for now, but you can look forward to it! (Wink emoji) #MovieEden

Since she couldn’t solve it immediately, she decided to delay. She needed to calm the internet’s fury first and wait until she reached a consensus with Lin Yi at the teacher’s birthday party next Saturday before making a real announcement.

With that thought, she hit “Send.”

[Hidden Achievement Unlocked: Procrastination and Perfunctoriness. Model Scummy Alpha Progress +1. Reward Point +1.]

Chu Yu: “…”

I just can’t escape this ‘scummy’ label, can I?!

Still, if she could persuade Lin Yi to return to Eden next Saturday, that would be ideal—though she knew the probability of that was less than 0.001%. After humiliating her like that in public, Lin Yi would have to be a ghost to want to come back.

However, she could look for other scripts…

Lin Yi had been developing her career abroad for years. Her acting was superb, but her domestic network was almost non-existent. Meanwhile, Chu Yu had established herself as the youngest and most commercially valuable director through three consecutive hits. Despite her poor reputation, in an era where the box office is king, her connections in the domestic industry were excellent.

This was exactly why she could bully Lin Yi so easily in the novel.

Chu Yu thought seriously: I can find some high-potential, big-budget scripts within the industry to recommend to Lin Yi. That should ease my guilt a little.

She thought her vague post would temporarily quiet the storm, but the moment it went live, 999 comments flooded in.

“You hurt someone and then just toss out a casual post without even an apology? Classic scummy Alpha.”

“Your relationship with Lin Yi? Stop clout-chasing our international Best Actress.”

“Does Lin Yi even know who you are? What a joke.”

“Look at that, the mad dog is barking again~”

“I want to see who in the industry is brave enough to take the lead role in Eden now.”

“I’ll laugh at anyone who actually goes to the theater to watch Eden.”

…

Chu Yu decided to close her laptop.

It’s fine, it’s fine. There’s still a long time before the car accident, she comforted herself. You can stay alive.

Having “resolved” the press conference incident for the time being, Chu Yu began searching for the history between her and Lin Yi—the parts the author never wrote.

Based on what Lin Yi said earlier, they didn’t just know each other; they were once very close. Otherwise, Lin Yi wouldn’t have tolerated her madness time and again. Lin Yi hadn’t even slapped her or scolded her after she publicly stroked her gland.

She said she owed her…

Chu Yu reflected on herself: A twisted soul with unrequited love, a control-freak paranoid, a low-quality scummy Alpha who abused her power to torment Lin Yi… what could someone like that possibly have done to make Lin Yi feel indebted?

Except for her face. She had an incredibly beautiful face. Clear puppy eyes, a slight “cat-like” pout, and a smile that looked exactly like a little fox.

Could it be… a debt of the heart?

Chu Yu’s eyes lit up. In the hate-filled comments earlier, she saw someone mention they used to “ship” Chu Yu and Lin Yi.

She immediately typed into the search bar: “Chu Yu, Lin Yi, Ex-girlfriend.”

No results.

Undeterred, she tried: “Chu Yu, Lin Yi, Passionate Love”; “Chu Yu, Lin Yi, Breakup”; “Chu Yu, Lin Yi, CP”… but still nothing.

She felt a wave of disappointment and sadness. It seemed they had never actually been together. If they had, the original Chu Yu might not have gone insane from unrequited love.

Helplessly, she deleted the keywords and simply searched “Chu Yu and Lin Yi.” All that came up were stories from after Lin Yi returned to the country—how she had relentlessly pursued and bullied her.

Exhausted, Chu Yu buried her head in a throw pillow.

If I tell Lin Yi I have amnesia now, would she believe me?

She pulled up Lin Yi’s contact on her phone and typed: “Sister, I have amnesia.”

She knew she would never actually send it, but just looking at Lin Yi’s name at the top of the message screen seemed to soothe her anxiety.

Chu Yu was a maniac. Lin Yi was her medicine.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Before Chu Yu could lift her head from the pillow, the person outside entered the code and walked in.

“Director Chu?” Su Qingqing jumped, looking surprised. “You’re home!”

It was her little assistant.

Chu Yu asked, puzzled, “Where else should I be?”

Su Qingqing said, “I don’t know, but you’re never home when I come over.”

Chu Yu asked, “Do you need something?”

Su Qingqing blinked, then held up two plastic bags. “I’m here to cook for you, clean the room, and take out the trash. You mentioned before that you wanted char siu (barbecued pork) today, and I found some very fresh pork shoulder at the market!”

Chu Yu, who had just picked up a cup of coffee, nearly choked. Su Qingqing, acting as if this were a routine, put on shoe covers and headed toward the kitchen with the bag of raw meat.

“Wait!” Chu Yu called out.

Su Qingqing turned around. “Any instructions, Director Chu?”

“Come here,” Chu Yu said. “Sit down.”

“Let me put the pork in the kitchen first,” Su Qingqing replied. She washed her hands, returned to Chu Yu, adjusted her glasses, and smiled. “Director Chu, tell me whatever you need.”

Chu Yu said, “Qingqing, you don’t have to do these things.”

Su Qingqing froze. “Director Chu… are you firing me?”

In that instant, every resume she’d ever sent that never got a reply and her unpaid credit card bills flashed through her mind. She blurted out, “Director Chu, don’t fire me! I can do even more work!”

Chu Yu: “…”

In the novel, this girl was already doing 24 hours of work across multiple fields. She wanted to do more? Did she think she was a superhero?

“I’m not firing you, Qingqing,” Chu Yu said. “I’m just telling you that you don’t have to do these things.”

“But you pay my salary, Director Chu,” Su Qingqing argued.

Chu Yu said, “I pay you to be my work assistant. You only need to handle the assistant duties at the film set and during production. As for cleaning the house, cooking, and taking out the trash—you don’t need to do that miscellaneous stuff.”

“Eh?” Su Qingqing said. “But you’re the one who told me to do them.”

Chu Yu asked, “Then why didn’t you say ‘no’ to me?”

Su Qingqing was so shocked her glasses nearly fell off. “You’re allowed to say ‘no’ to the boss?”

Chu Yu: “…”

Just how badly did the original owner PUA (psychologically manipulate) the people around her?

“Of course you can,” Chu Yu said. “You can refuse anything outside of your job description. That is your right, do you understand?”

Su Qingqing nodded vigorously. “I understand!”

Chu Yu felt relieved. Even though the internet was still a bloody battlefield and people were cursing her left and right, she had at least stopped the source of that 72-page PowerPoint of tearful accusations against a “wicked capitalist.”

But a second later, Su Qingqing stood up and said, “Director Chu, can I go make the char siu now?”

Chu Yu’s phone slipped into the sofa cushions from the shock of Su Qingqing’s logic. She was almost driven to laughter by the absurdity. She stared at Su Qingqing, curious. “Qingqing, tell me… you didn’t hear a single word I just said, did you?”

Su Qingqing scratched her head awkwardly. “No, it’s not that. I truly want to do these things outside of work.”

Chu Yu: “…”

With employees this dedicated to overworking themselves, no wonder the original owner managed to exploit 72 pages out of her.

“Why?” Chu Yu asked, curious.

Su Qingqing said, “Because you pay me, Director Chu… and you’ve changed.”

Chu Yu blinked.

Su Qingqing said happily, “You can remember my name! Director Chu, you called me ‘Qingqing’ twice today. No one ever remembers my name.”

On the film set, whether it was Chu Yu or the other crew members, they always just called her “hey, you.” It turned out that having someone remember your name was such a happy thing.

Chu Yu: “…”

She was utterly shocked. What kind of people lived in this entertainment industry?

“I’m going to make the char siu!” Su Qingqing turned to the kitchen.

“Stop!” Chu Yu commanded. She let out a helpless sigh. “Are you stupid?”

Su Qingqing stood rooted to the spot, lost.

“I am your boss. You have to follow my work arrangements. So, I am now arranging for you to only do film-related work from now on! And you are forbidden from stepping foot in my house again!” Chu Yu said seriously. “If I catch you cleaning, cooking, or taking out trash ever again, I’ll fire you.”

She was absolutely not going to give that 72-page PowerPoint—the final straw that would crush her—any chance to exist.

This tone was the “wicked capitalist” Su Qingqing was familiar with, even if the words themselves weren’t wicked at all.

Su Qingqing smiled brightly. “Thank you, Director Chu!” She turned and left, no longer disturbing her.

Chu Yu fished her phone out from the sofa cushions. As soon as she unlocked the screen, she froze, staring at two words: “Sent successfully.”

“Sister, I have amnesia.”

She had sent it!