Chapter 8: Not the Same Jiang Xiaobai

Wait… did that mean if she didn’t behave, she really would be replaced?

Jiang Xiaobai’s mind raced as she followed Dong Ran into the conference room. Several people were already waiting inside. She picked up the contract and began reviewing it carefully. Having been in the industry for a few years, she knew how to spot red flags in agreements. However, for a production of this scale, she doubted they would try to pull any tricks.

“Dong Ran.”

A voice called from the door, and someone gestured for Dong Ran to step outside.

“You go ahead and sign first. I’ll be back shortly,” Dong Ran said.

“Alright.”

Jiang Xiaobai, seeing no issues with the contract, signed her name and extended a handshake to the production team. “Looking forward to working with you.”

Exiting the conference room, she realized Dong Ran was nowhere in sight. Planning to wait for her in the lounge, she rounded a corner—only to overhear a hushed conversation.

She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but the moment her name was mentioned, her steps involuntarily halted.

“…You used to be a top-tier manager, and now you’re making risky choices? Jiang Xiaobai’s career is uncertain. You had the perfect chance to step away, so why are you still involved?”

Jiang Xiaobai pressed her lips together and stepped forward slightly, peeking around the corner to see who was speaking.

It was Mo Kun, another manager at Tangming Entertainment. He was well-known in the industry, and one of the hottest young male stars, Chao Nan, was under his wing.

In the entertainment industry, a manager’s status often corresponded to the success of their artists. If a celebrity rose to fame, their manager’s worth skyrocketed alongside them. Conversely, powerful managers with extensive connections could easily push an artist into stardom.

“Kun, I know what I’m doing. Xiaobai isn’t out of options yet. I believe she still has the ability to succeed,” Dong Ran replied calmly.

“Ability? You’ve been managing her for years—if she had real star power, she would have reached the top by now! She’s had challenges building her reputation, and her fanbase hasn’t grown as expected. Are you sure this is the best path for you?”

Mo Kun was growing increasingly agitated.

“She’s improving. I’m willing to give her a chance. Besides, things are turning around for her. She just signed the contract for Legend of the Nine Heavens as the second female lead.”

“What? Legend of the Nine Heavens? Wasn’t that role already assigned to Zhao Shan?”

Mo Kun looked visibly shocked.

Because of his position, he had inadvertently learned that Zhao Shan and President Zhao were related. He had never publicly mentioned it, but when he first heard Jiang Xiaobai was competing against Zhao Shan for the role of Liu Ruyan, he had thought she had little chance.

He had assumed the result was already determined.

“It was hers… until an unexpected change happened.”

Dong Ran didn’t elaborate.

Mo Kun frowned. “Regardless, Jiang Xiaobai faces an uphill climb in this industry. If you really want to support her, consider signing another artist as well. There’s a promising new girl who just joined the company. How about—”

“Kun, you know my rule. I only manage one artist at a time.”

Dong Ran cut him off.

“If every manager thought like you, they’d have a tough time staying competitive!” Mo Kun scoffed. “You’ve faced obstacles before—why take another risk?”

Jiang Xiaobai watched from the shadows, noticing a flicker of emotion cross Dong Ran’s face after Mo Kun’s words. A mix of frustration and determination seemed to surface.

A lesson learned? What lesson?

From the previous artist, she managed?

Jiang Xiaobai was puzzled. In her memory, when the original host worked with Dong Ran, she had no other artists under her management. So, she had no idea who Dong Ran had previously worked with.

“Forget it, I won’t lecture you anymore. Just be careful. The assessment period isn’t far off, and if you don’t meet the standards, you’ll be demoted,” Mo Kun warned.

“I understand. Thank you…”

Jiang Xiaobai didn’t listen any further. She returned to the lounge, lost in thought.

At Tangming Entertainment, the hierarchy was strict. Artists and managers were ranked. Evaluations were held every two years, and according to the rules, failing an assessment affected both status and salary.

Tang Ming had different tiers for managers: Ordinary, Silver, Gold, Ace, and the highest level, Star Manager.

But Star Managers were rare, as the qualification required managing an A-list actor or actress of considerable influence.

Dong Ran was currently a Silver Manager. But from Mo Kun’s words, she had once been a Gold Manager before being demoted for some unknown reason.

It most likely had something to do with that “previous artist.”

The difference between ranks was massive—salary, resources, everything changed drastically. Silver was already on the lower end. If she failed this year’s assessment and got downgraded to an Ordinary Manager…

That absolutely couldn’t happen!

Jiang Xiaobai snapped to attention. Dong Ran only had her as an artist. Her manager’s ranking depended entirely on her performance. She had to work hard and ensure she met expectations.

Hearing Mo Kun and Dong Ran’s conversation also resolved a doubt she had from earlier in the elevator.

It seemed that the original host had struggled to the point that she had disappointed Dong Ran, making her consider terminating their contract and looking for a new artist instead. This decision had likely already been reported to the company—otherwise, so many people wouldn’t have known about it.

But her arrival had given Dong Ran hope. The manager had noticed Jiang Xiaobai’s change. With the Legend of the Nine Heavens contract secured, her acting career was finally taking a turn for the better. After careful consideration, Dong Ran decided to give her one last chance.

If she still fails to deliver and struggles in Legend of the Nine Heavens, parting ways might still be an option.

Jiang Xiaobai couldn’t help but think that it was close.

If Dong Ran had given up on her, the road ahead would have been tough.

“Did you sign it?”

The door opened, and Dong Ran appeared at the entrance.

Her expression remained unchanged—a professional powerhouse’s sharp and composed look.

“Mm.” Jiang Xiaobai’s tone was calm, as usual.

“Alright. Let’s go back.”

On the way home, Dong Ran was surprised to learn that Ming Zhu had moved into Jiang Xiaobai’s place.

After knowing Jiang Xiaobai for so long, she understood her personality too well—extremely particular.

Particularly about food. Particularly about people. Particularly about everything that didn’t align with her status.

She had never said it out loud, but her actions made it clear that she kept a certain distance from Ming Zhu, believing they had different circles. Ming Zhu could only stay around because Dong Ran had vouched for her.

But now, living together?

Unbelievable!

Seeing Dong Ran’s expression, Jiang Xiaobai spoke up.

“Sister Ran, I’m not the Jiang Xiaobai I used to be.”

Her words carried a deeper meaning.

 

Chapter 9: Costume Fitting

“Yes, you’ve improved, but you must keep it up.”

Dong Ran misunderstood Jiang Xiaobai’s words. She thought Jiang Xiaobai’s comment “not Jiang Xiaobai” meant she had progressed compared to before, unaware that Jiang Xiaobai was implying a complete transformation—like a new core in an old shell.

Jiang Xiaobai didn’t say anything more, just smiled faintly.

The film crew’s schedule was tight. Not long after signing the contract, all the actors had to join the production. Before official filming began, the main cast tried on their costumes and took promotional photos. It was during this time that Jiang Xiaobai met the other actors.

This was a primary production, so the male and female leads were naturally big stars.

The female lead was Li Biying, who was recently crowned one of the “Four Rising Starlets.” Over the past few years, she had starred in two massively popular projects, consecutively winning two “Best Actress” awards, and her popularity was soaring. Her appearance perfectly matched the “female protagonist” image from the novel and the drama: a pair of almond-shaped eyes that were innocent yet lively, radiating purity; a delicate oval face; fair skin; and a subtle dimple that appeared when she smiled. She was a lovely woman.

The male lead was Shu Jie. Regarding fanbase, he was at least as strong as Li Biying, if not stronger. Shu Jie was a dual-threat entertainer—not just an actor but also a singer, specifically a performer who excelled in singing and dancing. Standing 1.82 meters tall, with a lean waist and long, straight legs, he rivaled male models. Yet, atop this rugged physique was a youthful face—skin smoother than most women’s, thick brows, large eyes, red lips, and white teeth. When he smiled, he exuded the sunny charm of the boy next door. The term “fresh meat” was invented for someone like him.

The second male lead was Qiao Yan. He had started as a child actor, appearing in numerous roles growing up, but never quite broke out. That changed last year when he played a cold-blooded assassin in a film. The character’s icy demeanor, paired with Qiao Yan’s impressive acting, catapulted him to fame overnight, quickly amassing a fanbase and earning him the clout to land this role. Qiao Yan was handsome, too, though he had a more mature, masculine edge than the pretty boy Shu Jie. He wasn’t particularly outgoing—mostly silent during introductions—giving his face a sharp, incredible beauty. But despite his aloofness, he wasn’t arrogant. He greeted everyone with a friendly nod.

The crew had two makeup rooms: one for the male and female leads and another for everyone else.

Yes, Jiang Xiaobai fell into the “everyone else” category.

This was normal. Despite being the second female lead in the story, her status in the industry was still lower than the top stars—and even Qiao Yan outranked her in influence. The dedicated makeup room was clean and spacious, while the one she used felt noticeably cramped. Fortunately, she and Qiao Yan were prioritized for makeup, with others waiting their turn after they were done.

Jiang Xiaobai was playing Moonlit Immortal. Her costume was an elaborate white gown, exquisitely crafted with intricate hand-stitched patterns along the collar, waist, and sleeves. The hem featured faint red designs, and over the white dress was a sheer gauze layer. The train was long, and as she put it on, Ming Zhu assisted her, carefully arranging it to avoid dirt or wrinkles.

Once the outfit was on, with her makeup and hairstyle complete, Jiang Xiaobai looked into the mirror and fell silent.

Compared to her original body, this one was more striking—like a vibrant flower blooming at dawn, its delicate petals trembling as it displayed beauty to the world. Anyone who saw it couldn’t help but pause and stare, then sigh.

“So beautiful!”

Ming Zhu gaped, stunned. She was used to Jiang Xiaobai’s beauty, but with this ornate, refined costume, it was amplified tenfold.

“Miss Jiang has an incredible foundation. I barely dared to use much powder—such natural beauty is rare, even in all my years in the industry,” said the makeup artist, a woman in her thirties. She’d been marveling at Jiang Xiaobai’s bare face for a while. Now, seeing her entirely made up, her eyes sparkled with awe.

Legend of the Nine Heavens wasn’t just centered on the leads—many roles carried significant weight. Over a dozen actors were present just for the costume photos, and the makeup room alone held at least ten people.

“She… so pretty…”

“Psh, just… a vase, nothing more…”

“Sure, but with a face like that… she could strut anywhere.”

The other actors whispered among themselves. Some comments reached Jiang Xiaobai’s ears—praise mixed with disdain and envy. Ming Zhu angrily glared at the voices but couldn’t pinpoint who’d spoken.

Sister Xiaobai isn’t a vase! She’s amazing and kind—how dare they slander her!

Jiang Xiaobai, however, remained unfazed, unaffected by the remarks.

In the entertainment industry, status was determined by influence. Some actors had no skill—terrible acting—but their popularity earned them adoration. A casual event appearance could net them millions, and peers would fawn over them. Others, less famous but immensely talented and experienced, often went unrecognized, their worth overlooked. Jiang Xiaobai was beautiful, but she lacked standout work. Calling her an eighteenth-tier actress wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. No one would know who she was without her striking face, making her name memorable.

Their “disdain” was more like jealousy—jealous of her looks and her luck in landing the second female lead role.

Of course, the photo shoot had an order: the male and female leads went first, followed by the rest. The photographers were still busy, so Jiang Xiaobai and the others hadn’t been called yet. She stayed in the makeup room, her gaze shifting to the side.

Qiao Yan’s makeup was done, too.

His outfit was predominantly black, accented with red patterns—complex and carrying an air of mystery. A cape draped behind him, enhancing his cold, enigmatic aura. His character, Gui Jian, was the top expert in the cultivation world, overwhelmingly powerful but morally ambiguous. He acted without restraint, guided solely by his whims, and later became the story’s ultimate villain. The dark attire suited him perfectly.

Jiang Xiaobai admired the handsome man for a moment. Having read the script, she felt Qiao Yan fit Gui Jian well. He’d surely rise to fame as long as his acting held up.

With a strong cast, solid acting, and a big-budget IP, Jiang Xiaobai was optimistic about the drama’s progress.

“Why’s it taking so long?”

After waiting another ten minutes, she sensed something was off.

It had been ages since they’d finished makeup—why hadn’t anyone come to fetch them for the shoot?

Author’s Note: This is an entertainment industry story, so it’ll feature plenty of fictional actors and works. Please don’t match them to real people! The characters and scripts are purely from my imagination, with no models. Thanks for understanding!

 

 

 

Chapter 10: Styling Change

Costume photos were crucial for the production’s initial promotion. Legend of the Nine Heavens had garnered massive attention even before filming began. Fans eagerly watched the official Weibo for updates. The photos’ importance was obvious—they’d shape the audience’s first impression of the crew and cast. If done well, they could retain existing fans while attracting new ones.

But even so, it shouldn’t take this long!

Shu Jie and Li Biying were seasoned photoshoot pros—quick learners who should’ve wrapped up by now. Two people had no reason to remain unfinished after so much time.

“Zhu Zhu, go check what’s going on,” Jiang Xiaobai said to Ming Zhu.

“Okay.”

Ming Zhu nodded and left, returning five minutes later at a jog.

Everyone in the makeup room turned to her. Qiao Yan approached, too. “What happened?”

“N-Nothing much… just a slight delay,” Ming Zhu said, her expression tinged with something odd. She glanced at Jiang Xiaobai, giving her a subtle look, then fell silent.

“What? You know something and won’t tell us? Fine, I’ll go see for myself!”

A young actress named Huang Yan, still a college student at an arts academy, spoke up. She’d gained some recognition from a web drama but was annoyed by Ming Zhu’s evasiveness. She glanced at her assistant, who took the hint and left to investigate.

The room grew idle—some chatted, others scrolled their phones. Ming Zhu stepped closer to Jiang Xiaobai and whispered something in her ear. Jiang Xiaobai raised an eyebrow and nodded faintly.

Soon, Huang Yan’s assistant returned, her expression mirroring Ming Zhu’s earlier one but with an added eagerness.

“Miss Huang…” She leaned in and relayed the news.

Huang Yan’s eyes widened, and she looked visibly upset when her assistant finished. Meeting everyone’s expectant gazes, she didn’t disappoint. “My assistant said the shoot’s delayed because Li Biying thinks her hairstyle looks bad. She’s making the stylist redo it, so the photographers still await her.”

“What? Redoing her style?”

“How long will that take? Has Shu Jie finished his shots?”

Questions erupted from the group.

This was beyond their expectations. They’d assumed the delay was just from slow shooting—the female lead hadn’t even started!

Restyling? Was it that easy to change?

“Shu Jie’s done. He’s waiting for Li Biying,” Huang Yan said.

“What? But we haven’t shot yet! Why not let us go first?” a frustrated male actor grumbled.

“Li Biying won’t allow it. She says she must finish styling and shoot before anyone else can go…” Huang Yan’s assistant added timidly.

The room fell silent.

“How can she do this? Isn’t this just playing the diva? Making a dozen of us wait for her alone? She’s holding up the whole crew!”

Other actors began to voice their complaints. They knew Li Biying was a big name—some attitude was expected—but this was their first-day meeting, and she was already causing trouble. If this was how it started, what would filming be like later?

“What’s the point of us complaining? Even Director Niu hasn’t said a word,” Huang Yan huffed, her eyes flashing with displeasure and a hint of jealousy.

Was this the privilege of a big star? Regular actors followed the director’s every command. Still, a celebrity could call the shots—even the director had to accommodate her! Usually, if someone disliked their makeup or styling, they’d just grit their teeth and bear it. Yet here was Li Biying, demanding a redo right before shooting, and Director Niu was backing her up!

“Forget it. It probably won’t take too long. We’re part of the crew now—we should follow orders and keep quiet,” an older actress said gently.

Her name was Rong Juan, 47 years old, playing the male lead’s mother in the drama. A true veteran, she’d been a star on the big screen over 20 years ago, once wildly popular. But acting was a young person’s game—past a certain age, good roles grew scarce. She’d faded for a while, only returning to the screen in the last four or five years, mostly in family-oriented urban dramas. Her fame lingered, but her current influence couldn’t match today’s hot young stars, and her pay wasn’t high. Still, most of the younger actors had grown up watching her, so her words carried weight. As a senior, she commanded respect.

The room quieted. Everyone lowered their heads to their phones, though their expressions remained sour. The costume styling was elaborate—heavy makeup, thick clothing, and weighty headpieces. Wearing it all too long was uncomfortable; if it dragged on, they’d need touch-ups. No one wanted to wait, but they were powerless to speak up.

The wait stretched to over half an hour. During regular filming, they could shed outer layers during breaks, sip water, or grab a snack—step outside if the room got stuffy. But now, in full makeup and costly costumes, they didn’t dare move, sitting stiffly in place.

“My neck’s killing me. My head feels so heavy,” one actress groaned, rubbing her nape. Like a princess, her character—a continent lord’s only daughter—wore the most ornate headpiece, making it incredibly taxing.

“Me too. My outfit’s so thick—I’m sweating,” a male actor nodded. It was still warm outside, and wearing such heavy layers was stifling.

Once someone started, others joined in. Huang Yan added, “I’m dying here. How much longer do we have to wait?”

“Why don’t we head to the studio and check?” someone suggested.

Their eyes lit up, and they nodded in agreement unison. They might not dare complain outright, but showing up together might nudge the director to reconsider!

Jiang Xiaobai stayed silent. She’d been browsing news and Weibo to learn more about this world. Seeing everyone agree, she stood and followed them out.

“Director, it’s been ages—when’s it our turn?”

Soon, the group—actors, assistants, and makeup artists—piled into the studio. Hearing the commotion, Director Niu turned and listened to the question.

 

Chapter 11: Seen Too Many Vases

The director, surnamed Niu, was a well-known television drama director whose works were almost all blockbusters. He was especially skilled in period dramas and took a meticulous and refined approach to the environment, costumes, makeup, sets, and shooting layouts.

His skills have reached new heights in recent years, and screenshots from his dramas can easily be used as wallpapers!

As Jiang Xiaobai approached, she saw Director Niu rubbing his forehead. He was in his fifties, with thinning hair, deep forehead wrinkles, and frown lines between his eyebrows, giving him a somewhat irritable appearance.

At that moment, he was clearly suppressing his frustration and looked quite agitated. However, when he saw the group approaching, he relaxed a little.

“You’re here. The situation here is still unclear…” he said, glancing to the side.

His gaze fell on Li Biying, who was sitting in a chair. A stylist was adjusting her hair, and she occasionally nodded or shook her head, exchanging a few words with the stylist.

Seeing her, everyone couldn’t help but feel a surge of irritation.

Her makeup was done, and her hairstyle was halfway there, still being tweaked for a better look. But she wasn’t even wearing her costume yet!

How much longer would this take?

“Director Niu, we’ve been waiting for a while. If this drags on, will we even be able to finish today’s shoot?”

“Right, and there might still be adjustments needed for the photoshoot. It wouldn’t be good to delay the production schedule.”

Everyone spoke up, their words carefully chosen to avoid directly mentioning Li Biying. They seemed only concerned about the shoot’s progress, with no resentment toward her.

As actors, it was easy for them to hide their displeasure. Apart from the initial surprise, they quickly returned to their usual demeanor.

Director Niu didn’t respond, but his gaze shifted to Li Biying.

He had previously suggested starting with the others. Still, Li Biying had refused, displeased, stating that as the lead actress, it would be inappropriate to let supporting actors go first. What would people think?

Now, he wanted to see how she would react.

Li Biying frowned slightly but quickly smiled, speaking considerately, “Director Niu, I’ll still need a bit more time. Why don’t they start first?”

Li Biying wasn’t foolish. When no one was around, she could afford to put on airs, but now that everyone was here, it would be a different matter if she openly asked them to wait.

“Alright, Qiao Yan, come over.”

Director Niu sighed in relief, his expression softening a little.

“Sister Ying, your makeup looks great. Is the hairstyle a big issue?”

Since the others were already in makeup and had nothing else to do, they stayed to watch. Surprisingly, Huang Yan, who had previously been the most vocal about her dissatisfaction, was now all smiles, bending over to chat with Li Biying.

“The makeup is just okay. The previous hairstyle had bangs, which looked too dull, so I wanted to change it.”

Li Biying lifted her chin slightly, her tone somewhat distant. However, Huang Yan’s smile widened as she continued the conversation, showing no intention of leaving.

“Tch… such a flatterer.”

One of the actresses scoffed softly, muttering under her breath.

The others pretended not to hear.

They had seen this kind of thing too many times. As actors outside the top tier, they rarely had the chance to speak with popular celebrities. While it might seem embarrassing to fawn over them, what if it led to a connection that landed them a role?

Compared to advancing their careers, a little embarrassment seemed insignificant.

Jiang Xiaobai observed everyone’s reactions, but after a while, she stopped paying attention and turned her gaze to Qiao Yan.

He was dressed in a black costume, holding a prop sword, striking a pose. His head was slightly lowered, the angle of his chin delicate and attractive, his lips lightly pursed, and his eyes cold, exuding an aloofness that seemed to disregard everything around him.

His entire face seemed to scream four words:

“I have no feelings!”

Director Niu stood by the camera, occasionally instructing Qiao Yan to adjust his pose—tilt his head a bit, change how he held the sword, and so on.

Qiao Yan had a strong sense of camera presence, and his personal demeanor perfectly matched the character of the Ghost Sword, so the shoot didn’t take long.

Next up was Jiang Xiaobai.

Director Niu turned and waved at her, and Jiang Xiaobai immediately understood. She rose from her chair and walked over, holding up her skirt.

“Jiang Xiaobai, your character, the Moon Immortal, undergoes a significant personality shift. Your costume is white, but you must show the dark side. Do you understand what I mean?” Director Niu looked at her and said.

If there was one actor he disliked the most, it was definitely Li Biying. As a popular star, she had a bad temper, loved to show off, and would throw tantrums when in a bad mood—something well-known in the industry.

But there was no helping it. She was popular, could attract big investments, and had solid acting skills. So, despite his dissatisfaction, Director Niu could tolerate it.

But if there was one actor he was most worried about, it was definitely Jiang Xiaobai!

She had been in the industry for a few years, but the label of “vase” had always followed her. If it hadn’t been for the sudden issue with the originally cast supporting actress and the tight schedule, which left no time to find a more suitable replacement, he would never have let Jiang Xiaobai join the crew!

Now, he could only hope her acting had improved a little, even a tiny bit!

“Alright, I understand.”

Jiang Xiaobai nodded, showing no nervousness, though her faint smile slightly eased Director Niu’s concerns.

“Stand here, look toward the camera, but gaze beyond it into the distance, showing a sense of detachment. Frown slightly… Here, take this flower. Later, start plucking the petals gently yet slightly murderously.”

Director Niu explained the key points of the shoot while handing her a vibrant red flower.

It was a fully bloomed peony, its petals layered and slightly damp.

Jiang Xiaobai listened carefully, memorizing Director Niu’s instructions, and adjusted her expression when he signaled to start.

Director Niu stood by the camera, watching her every move intently.

The woman in white was ethereal, resembling an immortal fairy from the heavens, her beauty almost commanding submission.

Director Niu couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Even someone who had seen many beauties had to admit, he had seen many vases, but one as beautiful as this was rare!

If nothing else, just standing there, she looked exactly like Liu Ruyan!

But the next moment, Director Niu’s eyes widened in surprise.

The immortal fairy raised her head, facing the camera, but her eyes gazed into the distant void, exuding a sense of detachment.

 

Chapter 12: The Shooting Begins

Her gaze was hazy and distant, hard to discern, like a reflection in a mirror or a flower in bloom. But in the next moment, a cold glint shot from her eyes.

Jiang Xiaobai moved. Her left hand gently held the vibrant flower while her right hand slowly caressed its petals. Just as it seemed she was about to stroke it tenderly, her hand paused, and without hesitation, she ruthlessly plucked off several petals.

Two of the petals floated in the air, spiraling downward. The photographer, who had been prepared since she began moving, immediately pressed the shutter, instantly capturing her expression and movements.

Her clothes were white, the flower was red, and the woman was beautiful. Yet her actions carried an air of ruthlessness, and the coldness in her eyes revealed she was far from the serene and ethereal figure she appeared to be.

“Good! Perfect!”

This wasn’t spoken by the director but by the photographer, who couldn’t contain his excitement.

Director Niu had been observing from the “performance” perspective, but the photographer was focused on the “camera presence.” At this moment, he could only say that this actress, Jiang Xiaobai, had a natural talent. Every movement she made was flawless on camera—the angle of her cheek, even the direction the petals fell—everything was perfect in the frame.

It was as if even a painter could capture no better angle!

“Not bad,” Director Niu said, a hint of surprise in his voice. After a brief pause, he smiled with delight. “Jiang Xiaobai, how did you get into character so quickly?”

“Director Niu, I thought of a scene from the script and unconsciously immersed myself in it,” Jiang Xiaobai replied, letting out a soft sigh. Holding a pose was exhausting, and with so many people watching, it was hard to feel at ease. She was glad it was over quickly.

“Oh? Which scene?” Director Niu asked with interest.

“It’s the scene where Liu Ruyan sees her master secretly giving a magical artifact to Wanran. She confronts Wanran, but Wanran denies it. Afterward, Liu Ruyan goes to the back mountain alone,” Jiang Xiaobai explained.

Director Niu clapped his hands and laughed. “You’re talking about the deer-killing scene, aren’t you? Yes, yes! Killing the deer and plucking the petals are the same scene!”

Director Niu was thrilled and found himself looking at this “vase” actress with a bit more flavor.

The deer-killing scene was a turning point in The Legend of the Nine Heavens, the catalyst for Liu Ruyan’s descent into darkness.

Although Liu Ruyan was known as the “Moonlit Immortal,” appearing lofty and untouchable, she was actually an abandoned child from the mortal world. Her parents were disappointed that she was a girl and finally had a son when she was six. They took her to a mountain ravine, promising to return for her before dark and telling her not to wander off.

The young Liu Ruyan, alone in the deep mountains, listened to the roars of wild beasts as the sky darkened. Her family never returned, and she began to suspect the worst. Just as she was about to be devoured by wild animals, an immortal descended from the heavens. It was Senior Sister Fang, who was returning to the sect after completing a mission. Sensing Liu Ruyan’s spiritual roots, she brought her to the sect.

The memory of being abandoned haunted Liu Ruyan, becoming her deepest pain. Over the years in the sect, she trusted no one except Senior Sister Fang, keeping even her master at a distance.

But when Wanran became her junior sister, her lively and warm personality opened Liu Ruyan’s heart. Liu Ruyan treated her like a sister, giving her everything—pills, cultivation techniques—and even guiding her in her training.

Then, one day, Liu Ruyan saw her master give Wanran the “Immortal Binding Rope,” which he had promised her!

Her mind was in turmoil, but she clung to a sliver of hope, thinking she might have been mistaken or misunderstood. She confronted Wanran, but Wanran firmly denied it.

Though Wanran’s denial was resolute, the panic and guilt in her eyes couldn’t escape Liu Ruyan’s notice.

The Immortal Binding Rope was a powerful artifact. With it, Liu Ruyan could have secured a high ranking in the sect’s competition, allowing her to train in the “Void Realm.” Her master had promised it to her!

Yet now, he had given it to Wanran.

This incident shattered Liu Ruyan’s trust in Wanran. She felt betrayed by the person she trusted most, and darkness surged within her. In a daze, she wandered to the back mountain.

A spirit deer approached her, nuzzling her side and occasionally making soft calls.

She often came to the back mountain with Wanran to practice swordsmanship, so the deer was familiar with her and showed affection.

She would have reached out to stroke it in the past, but this time, she changed.

She extended her hand, gently caressing the deer’s back, her movements tender. Then, her hand slowly moved to the deer’s head.

The deer’s moist eyes blinked as it nuzzled her hand. But in that moment, it let out a sharp, piercing cry.

Liu Ruyan withdrew her blood-stained hand, her gaze calm, with a hint of detachment. She remained unmoved even as the deer’s head shattered and fell to the ground.

At that moment, she was still beautiful, standing in the moonlight on the back mountain, dressed in white. She was like a fairy on one side and a demon on the other.

Jiang Xiaobai recalled this scene, which allowed her to channel her emotions during the shoot. Naturally, she passed the scene in one take.

For ordinary people, exuding an aura of killing intent is difficult, especially for a woman. But Jiang Xiaobai had come from another world. Her hands had been stained with blood, and she was no stranger to the aura of death. Thus, it was easier for her to get into character.

“Yes, that’s exactly how she was—a contradiction. I felt it was very fitting for the moment and should be able to convey the effect you wanted, Director.”

“Very good. Keep this up during filming!” Director Niu praised before calling for the next actor.

The other actors had witnessed this scene. Some looked thoughtful, while others were indifferent.

“Sister Xiaobai, you were amazing!” Ming Zhu, her assistant, excitedly handed her a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” Jiang Xiaobai replied, sipping the water slowly.

Once you joined the crew, you had to stay on set unless there was an urgent matter. After the opening ceremony, news of the event quickly made headlines.

“The highly anticipated fantasy drama The Legend of the Nine Heavens has officially begun filming! The main cast has gathered, and the lineup is star-studded!”

“The collaboration between rising star Li Biying and popular heartthrob Shu Jie excites everyone for The Legend of the Nine Heavens!”

The news naturally revealed the cast. While the lead roles had already been announced, the supporting cast was still unknown. When the lineup was revealed, reactions varied.

“I actually recognize all the supporting actors! This is a big production—even the supporting roles are filled with well-known names… and even Senior Rong Juan!”

“There’s a veteran actor! I’m so excited!”

“Ahhh! Is Qiao Yan really playing the Gui Jian? I’m so thrilled! He’s exactly how I imagined the Gui Jian!”

“Wait, hold on… am I the only one who noticed that Jiang Xiaobai is playing Liu Ruyan?”

 

 

 

Chapter 13: No Regrets

“Damn, Jiang Xiaobai! Isn’t she that supporting actress from Wife in Heaven? Her acting was so bad, and she’s playing the second female lead??”

“She’s just a pretty face. Letting her play Liu Ruyan? That’ll just be a whole movie of her cold, expressionless face! I refuse!”

“Well… actually, her looks do match Liu Ruyan’s… Besides, Liu Ruyan is supposed to be a cold goddess.”

“Being cold doesn’t mean you can’t act! The colder the character, the more acting skill it requires. The face might not move, but there should still be subtle expressions. Can Jiang Xiaobai pull that off?”

Some timidly defended Jiang Xiaobai, though they weren’t her fans—at most, they were admirers of her looks. But the critics quickly drowned out their voices.

Jiang Xiaobai’s casting was so shocking that the post instantly garnered tens of thousands of comments, over half of which criticized her.

“Xiaobai, look at this! How can they talk about you like this?” Ming Zhu, Jiang Xiaobai’s assistant, had been managing her Weibo account and watching related news. As soon as the controversy erupted, she noticed it.

Jiang Xiaobai was in her hotel room, reading the script. She glanced at the phone and said, “Let them talk. They’ve got mouths, and we can’t stop them.”

With just one look, she saw the comment accusing her of poor acting. She didn’t need to read the rest to know they’d all be similar. None of them would be kind.

“Xiaobai, you’re so patient. They don’t know you, so they’re saying these things!” Ming Zhu puffed up in anger.

Jiang Xiaobai chuckled. “Patient? Zhu Zhu, you’re such a treasure.”

The world said she had a bad temper, but only Zhu Zhu claimed otherwise. How rare.

Ming Zhu was serious. “Xiaobai, you have a temper, but you don’t lash out for no reason. You only retaliate when provoked. You’ve never taken your anger out on us for no reason.”

Jiang Xiaobai had to endure a lot to fit into this industry and pursue her dreams. But she’d been pampered since childhood—how could she not have a temper? When she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d explode, and that’s when people would seize the opportunity to report her “outbursts.”

Ming Zhu continued scrolling through Weibo, looking for more news about Legend of the Nine Heavens. But as she read, her face turned red with anger.

“Xiaobai, look at this!”

“Hmm?”

Jiang Xiaobai took the phone and saw a Weibo post.

[Zhao Shan v: Such bad luck. I was about to sign on for the role of Liu XX, but then I injured my leg and missed it. It feels like history repeating itself. Well, I’ll try to look on the bright side—maybe this role just isn’t meant for me? But it’s such a coincidence. I wonder if the next actress to take over will be as unlucky~]

The post was accompanied by a photo of Zhao Shan lying in bed with a cast on her leg. Her leg looked terrible, but she was still wearing makeup, smiling sweetly at the camera. The photo had been edited with cartoon tears, making her look cute and pitiful.

Jiang Xiaobai raised an eyebrow.

“Zhao Shan is going too far! She’s the one who had bad luck and injured her leg. How can she curse you like that? She’s so mean!”

Zhao Shan seemed to be sharing her injury. Still, her words subtly hinted that she and the previous actress had problems signing for a specific role. This naturally led to speculation.

Moreover, the Legend of the Nine Heavens cast had just been announced, and #JiangXiaobaiAsLiuRuyan was still trending. Her post immediately got people talking.

“Liu XX? Could she be talking about the role of Liu Ruyan?”

“Of course she is! I heard that the previous actress, Xu Lulu, had injured her foot after signing the contract and had to be replaced. It seems Zhao Shan was next in line.”

“But that’s so unlucky! Xu Lulu just had an accident, and Zhao Shan has injured her leg? This is too eerie!”

“The next actress to take over? That’s Jiang Xiaobai, right?”

“Could it be that Jiang Xiaobai will also…”

Jiang Xiaobai scrolled through the comments, her face full of interest but no trace of anger or worry. Ming Zhu was confused. Usually, wouldn’t someone cursed like this be furious? Especially someone like Jiang Xiaobai, who had a temper. Why wasn’t she reacting?

Little did Ming Zhu know Jiang Xiaobai was carrying a protective talisman. Such a “curse” was nothing to her.

“Just ignore it. She’s counting on your temper to provoke you into lashing out, which would only worsen your reputation,” Dong Ran, who was working on her laptop, said.

“Don’t worry, Elder Sister. I won’t fall for it,” Jiang Xiaobai replied.

Just then, Dong Ran’s phone rang.

“Hello… Oh, President Zhao! I remember that, but Xiaobai has already joined the Legend of the Nine Heavens crew…”

As Dong Ran spoke, her eyes widened in surprise. “Okay, Xiaobai is here. I’ll pass the phone to her.”

She turned to Jiang Xiaobai, handed her the phone, and mouthed, “It’s President Zhao!”

President Zhao? Zhao Shan’s uncle?

Jiang Xiaobai was puzzled but took the phone. “Hello, President Zhao. This is Jiang Xiaobai.”

“Miss Jiang, I remember promising you the lead role in another script. Do you recall that?”

“Yes, I do. What’s your meaning?”

Jiang Xiaobai glanced at Dong Ran, and both were confused.

At the banquet, Jiang Xiaobai approached President Zhao about the role of Liu Ruyan, but he wanted to prioritize his niece, Zhao Shan, so the deal fell through. However, before leaving, President Zhao offered her another script as compensation.

He had promised to email the script that night, but after Zhao Shan’s accident, he had been too busy and had forgotten about it.

After Zhao Shan’s mishap, Jiang Xiaobai had lucked out, and the role naturally fell to her.

Both Jiang Xiaobai and Dong Ran had assumed the matter was over since she’d already taken on Liu Ruyan. There was no need for compensation, and President Zhao’s oversight was understandable.

But now, he was calling. What did this mean?

“I, Zhao Xiulun, keep my promises. I’m calling to let you know the script has been sent. If you’re interested, let me know as soon as possible.”

Jiang Xiaobai’s heart skipped a beat. This surprise had come out of nowhere.

But after the initial excitement, she quickly calmed down. Given her current status, landing Legend of the Nine Heavens was already a stroke of luck. Now, President Zhao was offering her the lead role in another project? This seemed too good to be true.

Chapter 14: Inviting Trouble

Dong Ran’s heart sank. She had a bad feeling—President Zhao, while gentlemanly, was known for his interest in beautiful women. Was he now making a move on Jiang Xiaobai?

She glanced at Jiang Xiaobai. They were in the hotel, and Jiang Xiaobai had just showered. Her hair was slightly damp, falling over her shoulders, and she wore a loose robe hinting at her figure. Even without makeup, her flawless face was stunning under the bedside lamp.

That old man must have his eyes on her!

“President Zhao, may I ask why you’re still choosing me, even though I’ve already taken on Legend of the Nine Heavens?”

Jiang Xiaobai had the same thought and didn’t beat around the bush. She also switched the call to speakerphone.

President Zhao chuckled. “I’m a businessman. When I invest in a project, it’s for profit. This role suits you, so I’m giving us both an opportunity… Of course, even if you’re interested in the script, we can’t sign the contract immediately.”

“What are your conditions?”

“I’m a businessman. In the entertainment industry, I can only think of a few actresses who match the image of the female lead, but the image doesn’t equal acting. Your performance in Legend of the Nine Heavens will be my reference.”

That’s it?

Jiang Xiaobai felt relieved.

“President Zhao, don’t worry. I’m an actress, and I’ll do my best. I won’t comment on my past performances. Still, starting with Legend of the Nine Heavens, I’ll show everyone a different Jiang Xiaobai.”

“Oh? Quite confident. I’ll be waiting for the results.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, President Zhao. Regardless of the outcome, I’m grateful.”

“The opportunity is yours. Whether you can seize it is up to you.”

After hanging up, Jiang Xiaobai returned the phone to Dong Ran.

“I’ll review the script once I receive the email. If it’s suitable, I’ll pass it on to you,” Dong Ran said.

“Okay.”

“Xiaobai, look! Dou Fang is riding on your coattails!”

Ming Zhu, who’d been scrolling through Weibo, stood up and pointed at a post for Jiang Xiaobai to see.

[Dou Fang v: I wondered how someone like you could land the second female lead in such a big production. Turns out you’re just picking up the scraps. But even if you’re lucky enough to pick up the scraps, you’ll need luck to keep them. Be careful with your health. The previous actress only injured her leg, but who knows what’ll happen to you…]

Jiang Xiaobai was genuinely surprised. “Is she crazy? She dares to post something like this?”

Dong Ran was equally shocked. Her first thought was that it might be a fake account!

But after seeing the verified badge next to Dou Fang’s name—

Dong Ran said, “She’s asking for trouble. How much does she really hate you?”

As an actress, every move is scrutinized. Even if Dou Fang was a minor actress, she should still be mindful of her words and actions. But here she was, openly gloating and hoping for Jiang Xiaobai’s misfortune. Such a lack of tact and intelligence was genuinely concerning.

Sure enough, the comments under Dou Fang’s post were filled with outrage.

“What the hell? Are you cursing Jiang Xiaobai?”

“How can you say something like this? You’re in the same industry. Do you even want to work together in the future? You’re just asking for trouble!”

“Such poor character. Unfollowing!”

The post had only been up briefly, but many people had already commented. Perhaps Dou Fang realized her mistake, as she deleted the post within minutes as if it had never existed.

But even so, some netizens had already taken screenshots and shared them, adding to the discussions of Legend of the Nine Heavens and Jiang Xiaobai.

Unexpectedly, the post quickly went viral, with many people commenting on Dou Fang’s behavior.

“I’ve never heard of any deep grudge between them. Does she just not want to see others succeed? From Dou Fang’s face alone, I can tell she’s a petty person. This just proves it!”

“Curious! Does anyone know what really happened between them?”

“It’s obvious. They’re actresses from the same company. Either it’s about competing for resources, or there’s some romantic drama. I bet it’s one of those two!”

“I have a friend at Tangming Entertainment. I know a bit of inside info. Dou Fang’s boyfriend, Zhang Yishui, once pursued Jiang Xiaobai but was rejected. That’s why he ended up with Dou Fang!”

“Really? Didn’t they appear on a variety show together, promoting their ‘perfect couple’ image? I never knew this happened!”

“Zhang Yishui tried to pursue Jiang Xiaobai? I’m not a fan of Jiang Xiaobai, but based on looks, they don’t match. How did he have the guts to pursue her?”

“That’s why he failed.”

Jiang Xiaobai, Ming Zhu, and Dong Ran huddled together, reading the comments with great interest.

“Wow, netizens are really well-informed these days!” Jiang Xiaobai laughed.

Such an old story had been dug up, and she found it amusing. Besides, this revelation didn’t harm her, and she was happy to watch the drama unfold.

Especially the phrase “settled for second best,” which she thought the netizen had used ideally. If it weren’t for the fact that this was her official account, she’d have liked the comment herself.

“Alright, stop reading. Don’t engage with this. Focus on your script and get some rest when it’s time,” Dong Ran said after a while, putting her phone away and sternly addressing Jiang Xiaobai.

“Got it, Elder Sister. You should smile more. It makes you look younger,” Jiang Xiaobai teased, then put the matter aside.

The next day was the first official day of filming.

Jiang Xiaobai arrived on time and started getting her makeup done. Besides her, a few other actors were in the makeup room, chatting idly as they waited for their scenes.

“Jiang Xiaobai, you were trending yesterday. How does it feel?”

The speaker was Gu Xue, an actress five or six years older than Jiang Xiaobai. She was a veteran of period dramas, though she’d only played minor roles. Over the years, she’d become a familiar face to audiences.

She was lively and spoke with a smile, likely curious rather than mocking.

“I didn’t expect my first time trending to be like this,” Jiang Xiaobai replied helplessly.