Substitute Lover [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 87

“Do you know why the regional ambassador for Hermer was replaced halfway through?”

Chen Mo tapped the surface of the office desk with her index finger, her expression displeased.

Luo Yan’s manager was named Chen Mo. She was quite famous. Even if the artists she managed were laden with scandals, she could clean up their image completely, successfully turn things around, and send them on to continued popularity and fame.

Most of the big names in the industry were under her studio.

Luo Yan was one of the better-performing ones and was considered her cash cow.

Securing a high-end luxury, or more accurately, a top-tier luxury endorsement, had great economic value beyond just sounding prestigious. The considerable endorsement fee was a small aspect. Looking at the bigger picture, it significantly increases one’s commercial value, or market price. Being favored by a luxury company means access to richer film and television resources, and sponsorship fees from other brands also rise accordingly.

The benefits were countless.

This time, the brand ambassador was replaced midway, and Luo Yan was replaced by a small-time celebrity whose reputation had been less than stellar since her debut. This was very difficult for Chen Mo to accept. The result felt like a public slap in the face, causing her great frustration.

Tsk, how embarrassing.

“I don’t know,” Luo Yan glanced away, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“She’s just a vase with no real achievements. Who would look at her? Are they blind? She doesn’t know any big shots, does she…” Chen Mo frowned, pondered for a moment, and then suddenly remembered, slapping the desk, “Wait, did Ji Fan get it for her?”

Luo Yan’s face was pale.

“I almost forgot. Didn’t Jiang Cha marry her? It must have been her, then.” Chen Mo leaned back, lying down, and composed her breathing. “If it’s her, I can’t do anything about it. We can only say the luck was bad.”

“…”

Seeing her silence, Chen Mo tilted her head and smiled, “Aren’t you her sister-in-law? She didn’t give you any face at all.”

Luo Yan’s face grew darker and darker. Her chest heaved for a moment. After a while, still unwilling to believe it, she stood up abruptly and said stubbornly and coldly, “Impossible. It wasn’t her.”

Chen Mo just smiled.

Who knows?

On April 17th, the Cannes Film Festival Organizing Committee announced the list of films selected for the main competition in Paris.

Song Baiwei’s film, Camel Cigarettes, was on the list.

“The film has been shortlisted, but the specific awards will only be known when the festival officially takes place in May.”

Morning, at Song Baiwei’s studio.

The weather wasn’t hot, and the air conditioning wasn’t on. The doors and windows were open for ventilation, and a cool breeze drifted in, carrying the faint scent of outdoor flowers.

“Including the selection for Best Actress, nothing has been decided yet.” Song Baiwei sipped her clear tea, her eyes holding a bright, gentle smile. “Before then, there might be rumors saying there are inside deals and that winners are known in advance, but those are all fake. Don’t believe them.”

Jiang Cha sat across from her and simply smiled lightly, “It doesn’t matter whether I win Best Actress or not. I’m already very fortunate to have had the opportunity to be involved in the filming of this movie and to learn from you.”

Song Baiwei tilted her head, a strand of long hair falling near her fair neck. Her eyes sparkled, and the corners of her lips curved.

“Don’t be so polite with me.”

The morning light was faint, with a pale hue. Falling on a person’s face, it made the skin look white and clean, translucent like snow. Jiang Cha had loosely tied her long hair; her sideburns looked like they were traced with light ink. When she looked up, her gaze was focused and sincere, carrying a slight, light smile.

She looked entirely clean and dewy—

She looked like she was naturally born from Song Baiwei’s understanding of beauty.

Song Baiwei gazed at her for a moment, then pointed with her index finger and pushed a script across the table: “Take a look. If you’re interested in the next film, continue to work with me.”

Jiang Cha’s eyes widened slightly.

Another film? Jiang Cha could hardly imagine it. She considered this movie a favor due to Luo Yan. The next one? Would she be chosen based on her own merit?

She lowered her eyes, her cheeks feeling warm.

“Are you unwilling?” Song Baiwei asked, “Don’t you want to act anymore?”

Jiang Cha felt both flattered and slightly uneasy. Ji Fan seemed quite bothered by her and Director Song…

She lowered her eyes and flipped through a few pages of the script.

It told the story of a blind young monk who played the fiddle, wandering north and south with his master, and a little girl—somewhat similar to Life on a String. She became engrossed as she read.

She was genuinely interested.

“No rush,” Song Baiwei saw her expression and knew what she was hesitating about. She just smiled softly. “Take a few days to think about it. Nothing is set in stone yet.”

“Thank you, Director Song.”

Just as her voice fell, her phone rang. It was a call from Ji Fan.

Jiang Cha was already accustomed to being respectful in front of Song Baiwei, as if she were a student facing a teacher. Now, while speaking with Song Baiwei, she felt it was inappropriate to take Ji Fan’s call, so she swiped her finger and hung up.

A moment later, she felt a little uneasy. She glanced down, and a chat box popped up on the screen. Ji Fan had sent her a message:

Waiting for you downstairs.

Sent five minutes ago.

The sound of high heels echoed from outside the office, clattering sharply against the floor.

Jiang Cha and Ji Fan knew each other too well. From the sound and rhythm, it was clearly Ji Fan coming to find her.

Jiang Cha cleared her throat, quickly rolled up the script, put it in her bag, and stood up, speaking as if eager to end the conversation: “I won’t bother you anymore. Please… you continue your work.”

“In such a hurry to leave?”

Song Baiwei took a sip of tea, writing and scribbling on a piece of paper, and looked up at her: “Is someone waiting?”

Jiang Cha hummed in affirmation, the tips of her ears turning red.

As she stepped out the door, Song Baiwei’s unhurried voice came from behind her.

“Xiao Jiang, don’t feel burdened by anything.”

Jiang Cha’s footsteps paused.

“Most aid given without reason in the world certainly has motives,” Song Baiwei said softly, “But not all of it.”

Jiang Cha turned back, slightly stunned.

“Some help is genuinely rooted in appreciation.”

Appreciation.

It had been a long time since she had heard that word.

Jiang Cha’s eyes welled up instantly.

Some things in the film industry depend on luck. The management and marketing by the agent and company are one aspect; the other is the actor’s own skill and the director they meet.

An actor is like unpolished jade, and the director is the craftsman who carves it. The top craftsman knows how to carve the jade into its proper form based on its inherent qualities. Lesser ones might not only fail to carve it but could ruin a piece of fine jade.

Some people are lucky, discovered early, and meet their mentor at a young age, leading to a smooth career. Others are later, belonging to the “late bloomer” category.

As for Jiang Cha, she wasn’t quite a “great talent.” She was young now, so she wasn’t a “late bloomer” either.

If she had to be described, she was just a piece of unpolished jade that had just begun to take shape and luster through carving.

No one knew what she would eventually become or how far she would go.

“Done talking?”

The moment she stepped out, she heard the person’s voice.

Jiang Cha flinched in surprise, turning her head to see a woman leaning against the dimly lit corridor.

She held a bag in one hand and smoothed the curled hair near her ear with the other, watching her composedly.

Her dark hair was thick and slightly curled, long and smooth. One side was loose, the other tucked behind her ear, where a black stud earring on her fair earlobe flashed with a cold, dull gleam. The light briefly illuminated Ji Fan’s slender profile, which was snow-white and cool.

The instant Jiang Cha looked over, her delicate lips were slightly pressed, her gaze subtly flickering, as if uneasy.

After a moment, she gently accused, “You hung up on me just now.”

Jiang Cha: “…”

She offered no explanation, so Ji Fan had to provide an easy out for her: “Did your hand slip? It’s fine.”

Ji Fan took Jiang Cha’s hand and pressed the elevator button. The red numbers slowly decreased. The elevator door opened, and they stepped inside.

The space inside the elevator was small, but no one else was there at this time, making it cold and quiet. Ji Fan held her wrist, suddenly turned, and pinned her in the corner of the elevator, lowering her head, inching closer to find her lips.

Ding-dong—

Jiang Cha pushed her away. Ji Fan had to straighten up, looking casually at her reflection in the elevator mirror.

Two office workers entered.

Both were young women. One was holding a cup of milk tea, chatting and laughing.

Ji Fan gripped her fair, delicate little hand and whispered, “What did she want with you?”

Jiang Cha was slightly shorter than her and was wearing a casual T-shirt today. The round neckline was loose and quite low. Ji Fan unintentionally glanced down and happened to catch sight of the beautiful, soft, white scenery beneath.

Ji Fan’s earlobe turned slightly red, and she turned her head away, her earring swaying.

She frowned, wondering if that person surnamed Song had seen it too.

Tsk.

“Director Song wanted me to film a movie. It’s her next project.”

Another one?

Ji Fan’s brow furrowed slightly, and she pursed her lips in displeasure: “Did you agree?”

“Not yet,” Jiang Cha looked at her. “I want to go, but I’m afraid you’ll be unhappy.”

Ji Fan was slightly taken aback.

“That’s why I wanted to discuss it with you first.” She smiled lightly, and after the two girls exited the elevator, she leaned in and kissed Ji Fan’s cheek: “There’s nothing going on between us. Believe me.”

She was extremely close, less than an inch away. Her warm, soft breath gently sprayed onto Ji Fan’s pale neck, warm and alive.

The touch of her lips was soft, triggering a rush of subtle electricity.

Ji Fan’s long eyelashes trembled, and she was slightly lost in thought.

The driver was already waiting by the roadside. The car door opened, and Jiang Cha followed her in. She opened her phone to check her messages but noticed a small red dot next to the first contact in her list.

The person requesting to add her was Luo Yan.

The note read: [Let me treat you to a meal tomorrow. Don’t tell Ji Fan.]