After Becoming a Film Queen, She Dumped Her Financial Sponsor - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Yes, I Do Have a Type.

“This place is literally in the middle of nowhere—you can’t even get a cup of milk tea.”

Li Ke fanned Qiao Sijin with a large bamboo fan, grumbling out loud. But although she was complaining, her hands didn’t stop moving.

She’d long been used to following Qiao Sijin through thick and thin, so a little mosquito war on a mountain like this was nothing to her.

“Are you setting up a ritual here or something?”

Qiao Sijin glanced under the table at the row of mosquito coils. She was practically being smoked out of the rest area.

“Boss, we have to light these. Don’t be fooled by how small the mosquitoes in the mountains are—they’re vicious.”

“I’m just trying to prevent you from getting bitten and having visible bumps that’ll affect your shoot.”

Actually, the mosquito coils had been provided by the crew. Talk about getting what you need exactly when you need it. It felt absurdly satisfying.

“…You’ve got a point.”

“These mosquitoes are no joke.”

Qiao Sijin continued reviewing her script. There were flirtatious scenes between the two leads, but… no kiss scenes.

No wonder it was an arthouse film.

The fact they don’t kiss is what drives the audience wild.

“Good thing you know that, Boss.”

“Here, take this little spray bottle. It’s mosquito and insect repellent.”

“Spray more before you go on set.”

As she took the spray from Li Ke, Qiao Sijin felt like it looked familiar—like she’d seen it somewhere before. But she couldn’t quite place it.

So she let it go and put the bottle on the table.

Just then, her phone vibrated. She picked it up, thinking one of her snarky friends was probably tagging her like crazy in a group chat.

But instead, a news alert popped up on the screen:

“Shocking! Inside the Nanshan Group—Fu Qingyun Announces Official Entry into the Entertainment Industry and Publicly Reveals Her Ideal Type!”

Every single line of that headline was clickbait gold, naturally drawing huge attention. The original post already had over 100,000 likes and countless comments.

Qiao Sijin didn’t even bother scrolling through the chaotic comment section filled with flying underwear metaphors. She went straight for the video.

Okay, fine. She admitted it. She was weak.

Seeing an ex’s video just made you want to click—that same kind of pathetic curiosity as someone who, post-breakup, still secretly checks their ex’s social media at 3 AM while lying under the covers, writhing like a maggot in emotional pain.

Same vibe.

Still, Qiao Sijin wasn’t sure if she was acting like some hopeless romantic. She just… wanted to know what Fu Qingyun really thought of her when they first met, on that summer day.

Had she truly been just a toy all along?

At worst, she could just chalk it up to curiosity about how her ex-whatever was doing these days.

In the video, Fu Qingyun faced a mob of reporters, flashes bouncing off her glasses. For most people, this would be a panic-inducing scene.

But for Fu Qingyun, it was just another Tuesday.

“This is Orange Entertainment. President Fu, you’ve announced your entry into the entertainment industry—does that mean you’re fully confident?”

“President Fu, any comment on the situation between Nanshan Group and Fengwen Media?”

“President Fu—President Fu!”

Reporters swarmed her like bees, shoving their microphones in her face. Her bodyguards—built like bulls—shielded her from the chaotic onslaught.

Then one daring reporter asked:

“President Fu, you’ve been single for years—do you have a type?”

That one question made every other reporter freeze mid-motion, staring at the brave soul who dared to ask.

Fu Qingyun paused mid-step. It was as if time stood still.

Everyone held their breath—including her bodyguards, whose foreheads were slick with nervous sweat.

These reporters didn’t know the situation, but the guards did.

Fu Qingyun had not been in a good mood lately.

“Yes,” she said. “I do have a type.”

Her voice was softer than usual—not the usual stiff, formal tone. It almost sounded… tender. Like she was really speaking to someone she cared about.

Everyone strained to hear what came next, including Qiao Sijin, who was holding her phone and had just paused the video.

She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to face it—but also couldn’t resist.

After all, she and that ice-cold-faced Fu Qingyun had nothing to do with each other anymore. So what was the harm?

Who knew? Maybe this “type” would end up being her future wife. She may as well find out more, in case they ever ran into each other. Better than it being awkward.

The world was small, after all.

“Oh? And what kind of type would that be?”

“President Fu, please share more! All us reporters here are dying to know.”

Fu Qingyun didn’t shy away from the microphone in front of her. Whether intentionally or not, she looked directly into the camera and gave a slight smile.

Her eyes were almost magical—like a seductive demon incarnate.

“Someone who acts impulsively but can also be a total neat freak. Someone with no sense of direction, a bit timid, doesn’t even know how to stand up for herself when she’s being bullied.”

The reporters were stunned.

The bodyguards were stunned.

President Fu… are you sure you’re describing ideal traits here? That sounded like a greatest-hits list of flaws!

Was this supposed to be praise?

Would anyone—even a masochist—like to be described like that?

Qiao Sijin tried to keep watching, but the interview cut off right there.

Just left everyone hanging.

….

Comments:

“AAAAHHH! President Fu is so cool! My husband, my MAN!”

“There’s definitely someone she likes already—with that much detail?!”

“This is basically a soft launch of her secret partner. Now I really want to know who’s won the heart of the Nanshan CEO!”

“Am I the only one who thinks she’s deeply in love? Like… she even notices their tiny flaws?”

“Are you kidding? Sounds like she’s describing someone she hates.”

….

After scrolling through two pages of comments, Qiao Sijin rolled her eyes.

When did Fu Qingyun ever have someone she liked?

Why didn’t she know about it?

And what was with that weirdly specific list of flaws?

…Could it be—was she talking about me?

In the past three years, Fu Qingyun had been way busier than Qiao Sijin, who was just an actress.

But then again, who knew?

Maybe Fu Qingyun had wildflowers blooming somewhere that Qiao didn’t know about.

Oh wait… come to think of it, maybe she was one of those wildflowers.