Chapter 71: Downfall

The diary sparked widespread discussions among netizens, and Ling Zi’s story once again became a trending topic.

“Jiang Xiaobai, you’re amazing! Scandal—this is exactly the kind of scandal you predicted!” During a break on set, Li Biying, who had just heard the news, pulled Jiang Xiaobai aside to a secluded corner, her eyes brimming with excitement. “I knew Jiang Bingqian was involved, but I didn’t expect her to force someone into such a situation…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

Although she wanted to see Jiang Bingqian face consequences, Li Biying couldn’t help but feel sorry for Ling Zi, who had been a good person. She wondered, if her own family needed five million yuan to pay off a debt—or face life-threatening consequences—and she knew a wealthy boss was interested in her, would she agree to such a deal to save them?

Well, she wouldn’t have to, because her father could easily cover five million yuan without a second thought. But what if it were five hundred million, or even more? What if her family went bankrupt and couldn’t scrape together five million?

In that case… she might have to compromise.

But Ling Zi didn’t. She had begged everyone for help and even approached her superiors, yet she never bowed to Mr. Qian.

“This is hard to prove. Jiang Bingqian wouldn’t leave any evidence, so even if they investigate, they might not find anything,” Jiang Xiaobai said, her expression darkening.

Although she had cursed Jiang Bingqian, she hadn’t expected such a scandal to emerge. Ling Zi hadn’t gone into detail, but she had mentioned that many artists in Jiang Bingqian’s studio had found “sponsors,” both male and female. So what role did Jiang Bingqian play in all this?

Jiang Bingqian had strong connections and knew many industry investors. Maintaining good relationships with them ensured her studio’s success. But these investors were either interested in money or… other favors. While Jiang Bingqian couldn’t offer much in terms of money, she could certainly provide the latter.

Since founding her studio, Jiang Bingqian had signed many young actors and actresses. Most were still developing their careers, but a few had already been propelled to fame. People had once praised her for her keen eye, as almost anyone she promoted seemed to succeed. But now…

“If they investigate the studio’s artists, could they find evidence of her involvement?” Li Biying suddenly asked.

She was certain Ling Zi wasn’t the only one. Others might have faced similar situations, and if they came forward, could they bring Jiang Bingqian down? But before Jiang Xiaobai could answer, Li Biying realized it wouldn’t work.

“Don’t get involved in this. After this, her reputation is ruined, and she’ll never return to her former glory,” Jiang Xiaobai advised, worried that Li Biying might do something reckless in her quest for revenge.

With Ling Zi’s diary exposed, Jiang Bingqian and her entire studio were tainted. It was a dangerous mess best left alone.

“She got off too easy,” Li Biying muttered.

“By the way, who is this Mr. Qian?” Jiang Xiaobai asked.

She could probably ask Dong Ran for the answer, but she figured Li Biying might have some idea.

“Someone Jiang Bingqian wants to please, in his fifties, married with kids—it’s definitely Qian Boda,” Li Biying said, having already identified him. “What a mess. He’s a freeloader. If his wife finds out about his antics, she might just break his… third leg.”

Jiang Xiaobai paused for a moment before realizing what she meant.

“A freeloader? Isn’t he a CEO?” Jiang Xiaobai asked, skipping over the other part.

From the diary, it seemed the man had significant influence—enough to make Jiang Bingqian wary and push her artists toward him. If the benefits weren’t substantial, why would Qi Jun personally sabotage his girlfriend and send her to another man’s bed?

“He’s a CEO, but he married into wealth. His wife’s family made him who he is. His wife was never conventionally attractive, but she was wealthy. He charmed her, and her father let him manage the family business. He’s been doing that for over twenty years now,” Li Biying explained, her tone dripping with disdain. “Now that he’s gained some power, his ambition has grown. He’s forgotten his place and even his son’s surname. Just wait—the Jiang family won’t let him off easy.”

Qian Boda was a man who had married into a wealthy family. His surname was Qian, but his son took his mother’s surname, Jiang. His low status in the family was clear.

Perhaps because he felt inferior at home and carried the shame of his past, he sought to assert his dominance outside. Li Biying had heard that he once drunkenly complained about his wife being ugly and fat, claiming she made him sick compared to his first love.

How ironic. Now that he was successful, he was ashamed of her? She looked the same when they married—how did he manage it back then? And he had the nerve to bring up his first love?

Qian Boda had been in a relationship with his first love when he met his boss’s daughter through work. Seeing her family’s wealth, he abandoned his first love to pursue her. His first love, however, didn’t wallow in despair. She married a wealthy suitor who had pursued her for over a year and now lived a happy life.

Meanwhile, Qian Boda couldn’t let go of his first love, idealizing her as his “white moonlight.” In the industry, he often sought out young women who resembled her, which was why Ling Zi had caught his eye and been dragged into this nightmare.

“Biying, Xiaobai, let’s go!” Director Niu’s voice rang out, signaling it was time to resume filming.

The two didn’t continue their conversation and hurried back to the set.

Ling Zi’s case had indeed caused a minor earthquake in the industry. Its impact was severe, and such dark revelations could easily tarnish the public’s perception of the entertainment world. Jiang Bingqian’s studio was ordered to undergo rectification. While it wouldn’t be shut down, everyone knew it was finished—and so was Jiang Bingqian.

A respected actress now linked to such unsavory dealings was a joke. She had become the industry’s laughingstock. Many people engaged in such activities, but few were exposed.

Who would want to work with her now? Even if she had projects, they might not pass censorship.

As for Ling Zi’s family, they were on the verge of collapse. The internet’s power was immense. After their faces were shown in interviews, their address was leaked, and their lives had become a living nightmare.

Chapter 72: The Fallout

People gathered at the Ling family’s doorstep to curse them, threw garbage to block their door, and even came up with more extreme methods. Some would knock on their door in the middle of the night, waking them from sleep, only to return an hour later and do it again.

When the Ling family couldn’t take it anymore and were on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Mr. Ling grabbed a kitchen knife, ready to scare off the intruders. But when he opened the door, he was met with a life-sized photo of his late daughter, Ling Zi.

It was said that Mrs. Ling screamed and fainted on the spot.

They called the police, but even the officers knew the story. They were netizens too, and they looked down on the family. They gave a half-hearted warning and left.

The Ling family couldn’t fight back—there were too many people, all young and passionate. They couldn’t run away either—where would they go? They tried staying in a hotel, but that cost money, and they couldn’t afford to do it every day.

“What do you want from us? Do you want us dead?” Mr. Ling finally snapped.

But the netizens sneered, “If you dare to, I’ll call you a man! But do you have the guts? You’re just a coward!”

“You have the nerve to cry? If it weren’t for your five-million-yuan debt, Ling Zi wouldn’t have been sold!”

“Using your daughter for money—you’re despicable. Trash!”

The netizens didn’t hold back, leaving Mr. Ling pale and speechless.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t know when this nightmare would end. His family had become neighborhood pariahs, and everyone pointed and whispered whenever they saw them. As a proud man, he was at his breaking point.

In a moment of desperation, he blurted out, “I didn’t do it! I never owed that money. Her boss made me make that call!”

Everyone was stunned.

The revelation was quickly posted online, and the full truth came to light.

Ling Zi had repeatedly refused Mr. Qian’s advances, and his patience was wearing thin. To appease him, someone from Jiang Bingqian’s studio contacted Mr. Ling and offered him a sum of money to stage a scene. The plan was simple, Mr. Ling would call Ling Zi, pretending to be in a panic, and tell her that if she didn’t come up with five million yuan within three days, he would be disabled.

All he had to do was make a phone call, and he’d get a five-figure sum. Mr. Ling agreed without hesitation, and the rest was history.

When asked who had contacted him, Mr. Ling said it was a man who introduced himself as Mr. Pan. He even provided the call records.

Pan Yong, the studio manager.

The netizens dug deeper and uncovered another secret.

Before Ling Zi’s suicide, Mr. Ling had called her, demanding a large sum of money for living expenses. When Ling Zi said she didn’t have the funds, Mr. Ling assumed she was lying and lashed out with harsh words. He didn’t specify what he said, but it wasn’t hard to guess.

The netizens were furious.

“What kind of family is this? Disgusting. Her father is the real culprit behind her demise!”

“Can I curse these parents to explode on the spot?”

“I want to go over there and teach them a lesson. Someone send me the address—I’ll buy a ticket!”

“Let’s go together!”

“No wonder she ended herself. This must have been the final straw.”

“Jiang Bingqian is a wolf in sheep’s clothing! She played the savior while her people extorted money from Ling Zi. What a shameless act! Ling Zi even thanked her for the loan in her diary, not knowing it was all a setup.”

“Why do women have to hurt other women? She watched Ling Zi suffer and crumble, probably calling her a fool in her heart.”

No one could stand by and watch this anymore.

Soon after, things escalated further. Jiang Bingqian’s studio was investigated for tax evasion, and the amount was substantial. Jiang Bingqian and her manager, Pan Yong, were reportedly taken in for questioning, and the studio was on the verge of collapse.

A few days later, news about the Ling family surfaced again. Their actions had disgusted their employers, who found an excuse to fire them. Their son was bullied and ostracized at school. In a fit of anger, he got into a fight and ended up falling down a flight of stairs, hitting his head on a corner. He bled heavily and was rushed to the hospital, where doctors diagnosed him with severe brain damage.

In simpler terms, he was now mentally impaired.

Losing their jobs was hard enough, but now their precious son was in this state. The Ling parents were devastated. To pay for their son’s treatment, they sold their savings and their house, plunging their lives into poverty.

Meanwhile, Mr. Qian’s identity was exposed, and his downfall was shared online. His wife had him beaten up, then filed for divorce, leaving him with nothing. She stripped him of his company shares and handed the business over to their son.

Their son, in his twenties, had never been close to his father. Now, humiliated by the scandal, he cut ties with Mr. Qian. When Mr. Qian tried to return to the company, his son kicked him out.

The investigation into Jiang Bingqian’s studio confirmed the tax evasion. The fine was hefty, but the real damage was to her reputation. Scripts and projects the studio had invested in were abandoned as other investors pulled out and actors refused to participate. The studio’s artists terminated their contracts and left.

The scandal had lasted nearly a month, and its impact was far-reaching. Authorities cracked down on entertainment companies, imposing stricter regulations on artists.

As for Jiang Bingqian, her studio was shut down, and she kept a low profile. Occasionally, she was spotted in simple clothes and minimal makeup, photographed having late-night snacks with a male companion. Before the Ling Zi incident, such photos would have trended instantly, boosting her popularity. Fans would have defended her, saying, “They’re just friends. Don’t speculate. Wait for official news.”

But now, did she even have fans?

Her former fans were ashamed of supporting her, and many turned against her. The backlash was so severe that Jiang Bingqian disabled her comments and stopped posting on social media altogether.

Chapter 73: Riddles

After the news broke, there was a wave of criticism. Some people even said that such a person should be kicked out of the entertainment industry and that they never wanted to see any news related to her again. Others speculated whether this was a publicity stunt she had orchestrated herself.

In fact, it really wasn’t. Jiang Bingqian was now desperate to keep a low profile and disappear from the public eye, hoping everyone would forget these incidents before she reappeared. Of course, she wouldn’t deliberately stir up trouble (or invite criticism).

Jiang Xiaobai knew that Jiang Bingqian wouldn’t have a good outcome. Previously, she had been one of the top-tier actresses in the entertainment industry, with countless loyal fans. But after this incident, she had fallen from grace, and her reputation was now in tatters—the kind that couldn’t be salvaged no matter how hard she tried. Such a drastic fall would be devastating for anyone.

It could be said that unless she had some miraculous encounter or a powerful benefactor to help her, it would be nearly impossible for her to make a comeback. And if some blind benefactor did try to help her rise again, Jiang Xiaobai wouldn’t mind cursing her once more.

By this point, Jiang Xiaobai’s scenes in the drama were almost finished. The Legend of the Nine Heavens was primarily a post-production-heavy drama. The actual filming didn’t take too long, as most of the time would be spent on special effects. Moreover, Jiang Xiaobai wasn’t the female lead, so her screen time couldn’t compare to that of the male and female leads, and naturally, her time on set was shorter.

“The company has arranged for you to participate in a variety show. It’s just one episode, and the filming will take about three to four days. If you have no objections, I’ll accept it for you,” Dong Ran told Jiang Xiaobai.

Jiang Xiaobai’s remaining scenes weren’t many, and her schedule wasn’t tight, so taking a few days off wouldn’t be a problem. Her spirits lifted. This was the first time the company had arranged such a program for her!

“What kind of variety show is it?” she asked with interest.

“A Family in the Town. This show has a lot of exposure. If you perform well, it could help you gain fans, and you might even become popular because of it,” Dong Ran said, clearly optimistic about the show.

Although Jiang Xiaobai would only be a guest for one episode and not a regular cast member, several artists who had appeared on the show before had become popular after just one appearance. A Family in the Town was exclusively broadcast on Orange TV, one of the top local TV stations in terms of viewership. The show’s regular cast members were all highly popular, and even if Jiang Xiaobai’s performance was just average, she could still get acquainted with them, which would be beneficial for expanding her network.

In fact, Dong Ran had put in a lot of effort to secure this opportunity for Jiang Xiaobai among the many artists in the company, so she had high hopes for it.

If this had been the old Jiang Xiaobai, Dong Ran would never have arranged for her to participate in a variety show. Given her previous bad temper, it would have been a disaster—instead of gaining fans, she would have lost them en masse and been thoroughly criticized.

In today’s society, beauty is highly valued, but it also comes with its share of criticism. If there were two girls on the show—one beautiful and one ordinary—and the beautiful girl performed well, she would be praised to the heavens. But if she didn’t outshine the ordinary girl, she would be torn apart, with words like “vase” flooding the screen.

However, Dong Ran had noticed that Jiang Xiaobai’s temperament had improved significantly compared to before. She hadn’t lost her temper once since joining the crew, and although she was still reserved and not particularly warm or proactive, it was clear she had become much more easygoing. Her reputation and relationships within the crew were unanimously positive.

Director Niu had even hinted to Dong Ran that if he had a suitable script in the future, he would consider inviting Jiang Xiaobai again. For a director, this was the highest form of praise! Even the female lead, Li Biying, hadn’t received such treatment.

Speaking of Li Biying, even someone as difficult to get along with as her had a good relationship with Jiang Xiaobai. The two often whispered to each other on set, which was quite surprising. Dong Ran felt like she was dreaming when she saw this.

So Dong Ran thought it was worth a try. Although variety shows were challenging for artists, they were also a great way to gain fans. Perhaps this could be a stepping stone for Jiang Xiaobai.

“Has the guest list for the next episode been finalized?” Jiang Xiaobai had already decided to accept the show but still asked casually.

A Family in the Town had three regular cast members, but each episode invited different guests, ranging from four to six people, with a roughly equal number of men and women.

“It hasn’t been finalized yet, but apart from you, there’s another male artist from Tangming Entertainment who will also participate…” At this moment, Dong Ran’s expression became somewhat unusual.

Jiang Xiaobai noticed this and felt puzzled. Was there something wrong with that person? Did he have a bad relationship with the original Jiang Xiaobai, or was there some conflict? She tried to recall who in the company had had minor conflicts or friction with the original Jiang Xiaobai, but after thinking for a while… she gave up. There were too many to count.

“It’s Bo Xing,” Dong Ran said with difficulty.

Jiang Xiaobai, “…”

“That Bo Xing?” Jiang Xiaobai asked tentatively.

“Yes, that Bo Xing,” Dong Ran replied.

The two spoke as if exchanging riddles, then looked at each other and smiled wryly.

Bo Xing was a highly renowned figure, undoubtedly among the ranks of A-list celebrities. However, his fame was built on some rather peculiar incidents. He was a legendary figure, but if possible, no one wanted to be associated with him.

Confirming it was indeed him, Jiang Xiaobai fell into deep thought, wondering if she should prepare more talismans before participating in the show to ensure her safety.

“Sister Ran, when does the manager evaluation start?” Jiang Xiaobai suddenly thought of something.

“Next month,” Dong Ran glanced at her. “This has nothing to do with you. Just focus on your work.”

Jiang Xiaobai didn’t respond, but she was determined to take this variety show seriously.

She knew that her popularity would skyrocket if the Legend of the Nine Heavens aired. However, the drama wouldn’t be released for about a year, which was too long. Even though she played the female lead’s supporting role, it wouldn’t greatly help Dong Ran’s evaluation.

The two commercials she had previously filmed and the magazine feature for Tianwei had some impact. However, for artists, works were the most substantial proof of their abilities. Commercials were just fleeting glimpses and couldn’t be considered serious works.

However, this variety show was an opportunity. The company would likely give Dong Ran some extra points if she performed well enough to boost her popularity. Becoming a gold manager this year seemed impossible, but there was a chance in the next evaluation two years later. Even if she couldn’t get promoted, she couldn’t afford to be demoted. This time, she absolutely couldn’t let Dong Ran end up at the bottom!

Chapter 74: A Family in the Town

“You’re going to participate in a reality show?” Li Biying found out that Jiang Xiaobai had taken a few days off to join A Family in the Town and, after some thought, warned her, “You’d better be careful. Reality shows are full of pitfalls. One wrong move, and you’ll be criticized. Those editors are the worst!”

Those who knew Li Biying were aware that she had appeared in numerous movies, TV dramas, and commercials but had rarely participated in variety shows or reality programs—so rarely that you could count them on one hand.

It was a bit of a tragic story. When she first entered the industry, she had also taken part in such shows, full of ambition and thinking she could skyrocket to fame through their popularity. However, she soon realized she was too naive.

Her personality wasn’t the most agreeable, and sometimes she said things that didn’t sit well with others. Variety shows were manageable since they followed a fixed script, and hosts kept things under control, so she got through them unscathed. But reality shows were different. Not every word or action could be rehearsed. Sometimes filming lasted for days, and during that time, your true self inevitably showed. That’s when Li Biying got criticized.

The issue wasn’t even that serious, but the production team, eager to stir up drama, deliberately edited out some context, making her remarks seem harsher and more disrespectful than they actually were.

Since then, Li Biying had become wiser. Invite her to a reality show? Ha, no way! Let someone else go! She was determined to maintain her sweet and adorable persona, so she stayed far away from those “truth-revealing” programs.

“I know. Sister Ran has already warned me,” Jiang Xiaobai nodded in agreement.

Dong Ran was well aware of the tricks these shows pulled—pairing up couples, ruining reputations, creating conflicts—they’d do anything to make the show popular. To ensure Jiang Xiaobai wouldn’t be taken advantage of, Dong Ran had specifically watched a few episodes of typical shows with her, pointing out the pitfalls along the way. After hearing Dong Ran’s advice, Jiang Xiaobai was both horrified and amazed by the scheming of the production teams and participants.

“By the way, that charm you made for me seems to be working. I don’t know if it’s just a placebo effect, but I feel like my luck has improved a bit over the past month,” Li Biying said, tilting her head thoughtfully and blinking her eyes.

Her appearance leaned toward the sweet and cute side—her face was round but with a pointed chin, giving her a more adorable look than the typical oval face. Her eyes were large and round, typical of almond-shaped eyes, and her nose and mouth were petite. When she deliberately put on her “I’m so innocent” look, it could indeed make people’s hearts flutter, thinking she was pure and adorable.

“Really?” Jiang Xiaobai asked.

“Yeah. Have you heard about the Carlo Watches endorsement? Apparently, the manufacturer preferred Leng Yangyang at first. I thought I had no chance, but it turns out one of their executives is a fan of mine, so they chose me directly. What a pleasant surprise!” Li Biying replied.

Carlo Watches was a high-end brand in women’s watches, and they were very selective about their endorsements. Li Biying’s status in the industry wasn’t quite at that level, but she still wanted to give it a shot. To her surprise, she actually got it, which even shocked her. Aside from that, there were a few other small things in her daily life that made her feel like her luck had improved.

“Whether it’s a placebo effect or not, better luck is always better than bad luck,” Jiang Xiaobai said with a smile.

The good luck charm she had made had only a mild effect, so it wouldn’t attract too much attention. She could make more powerful ones, but she’d need to refine the process first.

“That’s true… I guess the 100,000 yuan wasn’t wasted,” Li Biying said, stopping her smile and glaring at Jiang Xiaobai, clearly remembering the fee she had to pay.

Jiang Xiaobai paused for a moment. “How about I give you a freebie?”

She felt that, despite Li Biying’s minor flaws, she was a decent person and worth befriending. Since they were friends, she might as well offer something extra.

Li Biying’s eyes lit up. “Really? What are you going to give me?”

“I’ll prepare it when I get back and give it to you then.”

“It’s a deal! If you go back on your word, I’ll beat you up!” Li Biying waved her tiny fist.

Jiang Xiaobai glanced at her petite frame and decided not to crush her spirit.

The name A Family in the Town was very fitting because the show was filmed in a small town near the mountains. The living standards there were relatively low, but the environment and climate were excellent, with plenty of greenery.

The show was already in its third season, and each season was set in a different town. This season’s town was called “Luoyang Town,” named for its particularly beautiful sunset scenery.

Both Jiang Xiaobai and her colleague Bo Xing were participating in this season’s show. However, Bo Xing was a loner, so they didn’t travel together. Instead, they each made their way to City L, where the production team would pick them up and drive them to the town.

Jiang Xiaobai arrived in City L in the early afternoon.

“Hello, Miss Jiang. We’re from the A Family in the Town production team. I’m the director, Jin Feng,” said an unremarkable-looking man with a somewhat honest appearance. He wasn’t very tall and seemed quite young, probably around thirty.

Jiang Xiaobai shook his hand, and Jin Feng asked her to board the bus, as three other participants hadn’t arrived yet.

Before coming, Jiang Xiaobai had received the list of guests for this episode. Besides her and Bo Xing, there were four others—two men and two women.

The vehicle was a minibus. After Jiang Xiaobai loaded her luggage, Ming Zhu left.

Yes, the entire show had to be filmed without the presence of managers or assistants. They could only drop off the participants and return to pick them up after filming ended.

Jiang Xiaobai suspected that, aside from worrying about her image, another reason Li Biying disliked reality shows was that she’d have to handle all the daily chores herself.

From the moment she met the director, cameras were rolling. Jiang Xiaobai waved at the camera and then boarded the bus.

Inside were two people: a tall, muscular man in his late twenties and a boyish-looking young man under twenty.

“Brother Luo, Xiaoqian, hello. I’m Xiaobai,” Jiang Xiaobai greeted them warmly.

The muscular man, Luo Quan, was a powerful singer known for his love of fitness. Even in his loose casual clothes, his well-defined muscles were still visible.

“Hello, Xiaobai,” he waved with a smile, his tanned skin looking very healthy.

Chapter 75: Bo Xing

“Hello, Sister Xiaobai,” the creamy-skinned boy greeted politely, half-rising from his seat in the car and nodding at Jiang Xiaobai with a bright smile.

His name was Lu Xiaoqian, a child star-turned-actor who was now nineteen years old. He had started acting at the age of ten, and the drama An Old Treasure in the Family had made him famous across the country. In it, he played the role of the old man’s grandson, Xiao Yuanbao.

As a child, he had been incredibly cute, resembling the chubby, fair-skinned babies seen in traditional New Year paintings. His voice was soft and sweet, and his large, grape-like eyes had left a lasting impression on many. However, being a child star often came with its own set of challenges. Many child actors who were once adorable and beloved grew up to be average-looking, leaving their fans disappointed. People would say, “We’ll wait for you to grow up,” only to later lament, “What a pity, he didn’t age well.”

But the phrase “didn’t age well” would never apply to Lu Xiaoqian. The boy had grown into a strikingly handsome young man. His eyes were almost the same as when he was a child—bright, watery, and full of life, with long, thick lashes that many female actresses would envy. Some even said that just his eyes alone could earn him an eighty out of a hundred.

Lu Xiaoqian was not your typical child star. Unlike others who faded into obscurity after a few hit dramas, he had consistently appeared in highly rated works, giving the public the feeling that they had watched him grow up. This had earned him a massive fanbase across all age groups.

“The other three will arrive in about an hour. Please wait a little longer,” Director Jin Feng said as he approached the car door.

“Sure, Director,” Lu Xiaoqian responded first.

Both Lu Xiaoqian and Luo Quan were artists under Shenghuang Entertainment, so it was natural that they had arrived together. Since there were cameras in the car, the footage would likely be included in the final edit. Staying silent wasn’t an option, so the three of them, who weren’t particularly close, had to engage in some awkward small talk.

Luo Quan was a top-tier singer, and Lu Xiaoqian, despite his young age, had the largest fanbase among the six artists present. In comparison, Jiang Xiaobai seemed somewhat overshadowed.

She decided to break the ice. “Brother Luo, I heard you’re preparing for a concert right now?”

This was the first time Luo Quan and Jiang Xiaobai had met. As the oldest in the group, he had been trying to think of something to say to break the silence. Relieved by her question, he replied, “Yes, I’ve been practicing a lot lately, and I’m also working on some new songs. It was hard to squeeze in time to come here.”

He then glanced at Lu Xiaoqian and added, “Xiaoqian is the same. He had to take leave from a filming set to come here. This kid’s schedule seems even busier than mine.”

Lu Xiaoqian chuckled sheepishly. “We’re all busy. Sister Xiaobai, you came from a filming set too, right? By the way, I’m a big fan of the Legend of the Nine Heavens and I love the character Liu Ruyan. I’m really looking forward to your performance.”

“Then I’ll have to work hard and not disappoint you,” Jiang Xiaobai replied with a smile.

The three exchanged compliments while subtly promoting their current projects, creating a harmonious atmosphere.

About half an hour later, more people arrived. This time, two female artists from Shengyang Media were in their early twenties and exuding youthful charm. They were members of the singing duo Rainbow, and their good looks and vibrant energy were infectious.

“Brother Luo, Xiaoqian, Sister Xiaobai,” they greeted sweetly as they approached.

With more people around, the conversation became livelier, with everyone chiming in occasionally to keep the atmosphere upbeat.

Jiang Xiaobai observed the two girls. Their real names weren’t widely known, but the older one was Xiao Qi, and the younger one was Cai Cai. The two were only a year apart in age, but they weren’t biological sisters. Their company had paired them together after they signed on.

They were also popular singers, having appeared in numerous advertisements and variety shows, making them more experienced than Jiang Xiaobai.

“By the way, is there still one person missing?” Cai Cai suddenly asked.

“Yes, that person… hasn’t arrived yet,” Luo Quan replied, his expression somewhat ambiguous.

The others also looked slightly uncomfortable at the mention.

“Sister Xiaobai, aren’t you and Brother Bo from the same company? Why didn’t you come together?” Cai Cai turned to Jiang Xiaobai and asked.

Jiang Xiaobai glanced at her subtly, unsure if the question was innocent or had an ulterior motive. “Brother Bo had a separate schedule, so we came separately,” she replied.

“Oh, I see. I thought…” Cai Cai trailed off with a playful smile.

“Sister Xiaobai, is Legend of the Nine Heavens almost finished filming? I’ve been following the updates closely,” Xiao Qi smoothly changed the subject.

About ten minutes later, the final person finally arrived.

When they saw a tall figure approaching through the front windshield, the conversation in the car abruptly stopped, and an awkward silence fell.

The director went over to shake hands with the newcomer, and soon, the group was at the car door.

“Sorry for being late. I’m Bo Xing. It’s an honor to meet you all,” Bo Xing said as he stood by the back door, dressed in a fitted black casual outfit. He slightly bent his tall frame as he spoke, and the light from his eyes shone through the gaps in his bangs, giving him a deep, mysterious aura.

His lips curved into a faint smile, revealing pearly white teeth, and his mere presence left people in awe.

Bo Xing was an exceptionally handsome man, the kind you could spot in a crowd from a distance. As he bowed his head slightly, a black cord necklace slipped out of his collar, dangling in the air. It had a small, skull-like pendant that looked cool and edgy. The material wasn’t clear in the dim light of the car.

“No problem, we haven’t been waiting long.”

“Come on, get in.”

Everyone greeted him with smiles and gestured to the empty seats.

Bo Xing nodded and entered the car, but instead of sitting next to anyone, he went straight to the back row, taking the corner seat by the window. Even Luo Quan, who was closest to him, was two rows away!

This move, however, made everyone secretly breathe a sigh of relief.

Chapter 76: The Jinx Star

Jiang Xiaobai observed the situation and let out a soft sigh to herself. Bo Xing was a truly distinctive presence in the entertainment industry.

He possessed striking good looks and considerable talent, and he was signed with Tangming Entertainment, a leading company. By all accounts, he should have risen to fame with ease—and he had, in a way. Yet the path to his recognition was far from ordinary.

Why did people behave so oddly when his name came up? Why did they keep their distance?

The answer lay in his misfortune. Bad luck seemed to follow him, and it often extended to those around him.

Bo Xing had been active in the industry for three or four years. Shortly after his debut, he starred in a high-budget television drama. His handsome appearance quickly won over audiences, earning him the title of “male god” and a large following of dedicated fans.

But over time, strange incidents began to occur. His manager, assistants, and colleagues—even crew members on set—started experiencing mishaps. Some tripped and fell, others were involved in minor accidents, and a few suffered wardrobe malfunctions during filming. Fans who greeted him at airports reported losing their phones, getting lost, or encountering traffic delays.

Not everyone who approached him faced such troubles, of course. If that were true, it would be far more alarming. The incidents were inconsistent, but they happened often enough to stand out. On a typical day on set, one or two people might run into problems. While these events were rarely severe, their frequency was unsettling.

Initially, no one linked the occurrences to Bo Xing. But as time passed, a pattern emerged: wherever he went, things tended to go wrong. Eventually, the connection became clear—he was the common factor.

Curiously, Bo Xing himself bore the brunt of this misfortune. He frequently suffered small injuries, his car tires would puncture unexpectedly, and he once stumbled during a press conference. Hearing about his struggles could evoke sympathy.

As awareness spread, people began to avoid him. Those who could steer clear did so without hesitation. Those who couldn’t endure the situation quickly made a quick exit. Over time, he earned the nickname “The Jinx Star.”

Many felt pity for him. With his appearance, charm, and skills in acting, singing, and dancing, he had the potential to become one of the industry’s top male stars. Without this streak of bad luck, his career might have soared.

Once his reputation as a source of misfortune solidified, many of his early supporters either drifted away or became distant “cloud fans.” They’d say, “Go to his events? Buy his merchandise? No, we’ll just admire his looks onscreen.”

Even producers and directors grew wary. Most shows and dramas avoided casting him, as they were concerned about delays and disruptions during production. Other actors hesitated to collaborate with him as well.

Consequently, an actor who should have been a major star was relegated to the sidelines. He seldom landed leading roles, and even when he did, the production teams downplayed his promotion involvement.

His manager and assistants reportedly preferred to communicate with him online, meeting in person only when absolutely necessary and leaving as soon as possible.

When Jiang Xiaobai and Dong Ran learned that Bo Xing would be joining A Family in the Town, they were both surprised and perplexed. The decision appeared to stem from negotiations between the company and the production team, leaving them with no input.

The production team must have been unusually confident to take such a risk.

“I’m looking forward to meeting the three hosts,” Xiao Qi said enthusiastically.

“So am I. I really admire Brother Hu Zhou,” Cai Cai added.

Luo Quan smiled. “You’ll need to adjust how you address him later.”

Once everyone had boarded, the car began its journey. The drive to the town would take about two hours, and the group’s conversation made the time pass quickly.

Bo Xing, however, remained silent. Seated in the corner, he drew little attention to himself.

Jiang Xiaobai noticed Xiao Qi and Cai Cai occasionally casting quick glances at him before looking away, only to glance again moments later. She found it mildly amusing.

Bo Xing’s attractiveness was undeniable, even among the many good-looking figures in the entertainment industry. His features were gentle rather than sharp, which made him approachable and appealing.

Yet his well-known reputation kept everyone at a distance. The most they risked were fleeting looks.

As the journey continued, the scenery shifted from city buildings to green landscapes, a refreshing change that lifted the group’s mood.

At last, they reached Luoyang Town.

The car brought them directly to their designated “home.”

“Is this where we’ll be staying for the next few days? It’s so distinctive,” Cai Cai exclaimed joyfully as she stepped outside.

The house wasn’t a multi-story but a single-level building with a spacious courtyard. It featured black tiled roofs, white walls, and abundant greenery outside.

The door opened slightly, revealing a grapevine trellis and stone tables and chairs.

The design was simple and rural, reminiscent of traditional countryside homes. Such architecture was uncommon in crowded cities, though standalone villas offered a similar appeal.

“There’s Teacher Hu!” Lu Xiaoqian exclaimed.

“And Sister Lan!” Cai Cai added.

The movement inside caught their attention, and as they drew closer, Hu Zhou and Lan Qiao emerged to greet them.

The door swung wider, revealing the two hosts.

They were a man and a woman, both in their early forties. Yet, as was common in the entertainment industry, their well-maintained appearances belied their age.

The man was Hu Zhou, and the woman was Lan Qiao.

Hu Zhou was a renowned host. He had begun his career in finance news before transitioning to entertainment reporting and later hosting talk shows and a variety of programs on Orange TV.

Known for his composed demeanor, sharp wit, and broad knowledge, he thrived as Orange TV rose to prominence over the past decade. Many celebrities had appeared on its shows, expanding his network considerably.

“Welcome, my family. We’ve been expecting you,” Hu Zhou said warmly, extending his arms for hugs.

He embraced the male guests fully but was more reserved with the female guests, offering only a light pat on the shoulder with minimal contact.

“The guests this time are all so attractive. I’m fortunate to have you here,” Lan Qiao laughed cheerfully as she greeted everyone with hugs.

Chapter 77: Addressing Each Other

Lan Qiao was an experienced actress, a true veteran of the industry. She had started with rural dramas and later moved into a family-oriented series, cultivating an image as a warm, relatable figure. That perception shifted dramatically two years ago when she starred in a widely acclaimed palace drama.

In the series, she portrayed a female official, a close aide to the emperor. At first, her character seemed unremarkable and gentle, leading viewers to assume she was a minor role. But when she revealed her cunning and ruthless nature, the audience was captivated.

Few had anticipated this understated official to emerge as the story’s primary antagonist.

That performance propelled Lan Qiao to new heights of fame. Rumors suggested that several subsequent palace dramas had approached her for roles as empresses or concubines, though details of her current projects remained undisclosed.

Both Hu Zhou and Lan Qiao were seasoned professionals with extensive experience. They had received the guest list in advance and studied each participant to ensure the program ran smoothly.

As for Bo Xing, the hosts treated him with the same warmth and respect they extended to the others, showing no hint of unease. What they thought privately, however, was unclear.

“Where’s Grandma Yang?” Luo Quan asked.

The show featured three permanent cast members who acted as hosts, guiding the proceedings. Alongside Hu Zhou and Lan Qiao was Yang Dan, an actress in her sixties with a long career across various genres—historical dramas, modern stories, and period pieces. Though her appearances had lessened in recent years, her name remained well-known.

“She’s inside preparing her specialty dish. Come in,” Lan Qiao said with a smile, assisting with some of the luggage as they entered.

Upon stepping into the courtyard, the group was greeted by the enticing aroma of food drifting from the kitchen.

The courtyard included a main house and four side rooms, all suitable for living. The kitchen was positioned at the center.

“Grandma Yang!” Lu Xiaoqian called out, hurrying toward the kitchen with the others close behind.

The kitchen was modest, roughly ten square meters, but it felt welcoming and orderly. Everything was neatly arranged.

Yang Dan’s hair showed streaks of gray, and her grandmotherly appearance radiated warmth. She stood at average height, wearing an apron as she fried something at the stove. The delicious scent made everyone’s mouths water.

“You’re here, children! Just a moment—my wild vegetable pancakes are almost finished,” Yang Dan said kindly, her eyes sweeping over the group before settling on Lu Xiaoqian. “Xiaoqian, it’s been so long. You’ve grown taller!”

Her tone was gentle, with a particular fondness when she spoke to him.

“It really has been a while. I’ve missed you, Grandma Yang,” Lu Xiaoqian said, grasping her arm and giving it a light shake.

Their bond traced back to their collaboration in An Old Treasure in the Family, where Yang Dan played the elderly matriarch and Lu Xiaoqian her grandson, Xiao Yuanbao.

The drama had aired nearly a decade ago, and they hadn’t worked together since. Yet the cast had stayed connected, holding private reunions and occasionally gaining attention online with their group photos.

“If you missed me so much, why didn’t you visit me at home?” Yang Dan asked playfully.

“That’s my fault. I’ll come see you right after the show,” Lu Xiaoqian replied quickly.

“Your relationship is wonderful. It’s been years since that drama aired—time passes quickly. I used to watch it every day after school while eating dinner,” Luo Quan said, his tone carrying both admiration and nostalgia.

His sentiment was sincere. Yang Dan and Lu Xiaoqian shared a genuine friendship, unmarred by professional rivalry or competition. Such connections were rare in the entertainment industry.

“Absolutely, it’s a classic,” Xiao Qi and Cai Cai added. Though too young to have seen it when it first aired, they joined the conversation eagerly.

“The pancakes are ready. Let’s move to the courtyard,” Yang Dan said, reflecting briefly on the past. She placed the pancakes onto two plates, and Luo Quan and Jiang Xiaobai, standing nearest, each took one to carry outside.

The six guests and three hosts—nine in total—gathered around the stone table in the courtyard and began to talk.

The pancakes were cut into small pieces during cooking, golden brown on both sides and mixed with green wild vegetables. The aroma was inviting.

Chopsticks were set on the table, and everyone began eating, complimenting Yang Dan’s cooking.

“Per the show’s rules, let’s establish our family hierarchy first,” Hu Zhou said cheerfully, gazing at the group. “Lan Qiao and I are straightforward. You know how to address us, don’t you?”

“Of course! Father Hu and Mother Lan, we’ll be in your care for the next few days,” Lu Xiaoqian smiled, encouraging the others to respond in kind.

The title A Family in the Town reflected both the setting and the concept. Like a game, all the artists entering the courtyard became a family for the duration of their stay. Hu Zhou, Lan Qiao, and Yang Dan were the fixed father, mother, and grandmother, while the others were ranked by age.

Calling someone “father” or “mother” directly felt awkward, so they agreed to attach surnames, resulting in “Father Hu,” “Mother Lan,” and “Grandma Yang” or simply “Grandmother.”

“I’m 27, so I should be the eldest brother,” Luo Quan said.

“I’m 26. Hello, eldest brother—I’ll be the second brother,” Bo Xing responded.

His voice came from a short distance, and everyone saw him rolling up his sleeves and approaching with a plate of sliced fruit.

When had he prepared that?

“I saw some oranges in the kitchen and thought I’d slice them. Is it alright to eat these?” he asked, noticing their attention on the plate.

“Of course! We’re all family—what’s not allowed?” Lan Qiao said with a laugh. “You’re thoughtful, preparing fruit quietly like that.”