Eldest Senior Sister Became a Sensation After Being Blacklisted Online - Chapter 3

Police Station.

Song Cheng leaned back leisurely in her chair, her gaze repeatedly drifting to the computer on the desk. Recalling the original owner’s extensive knowledge of the computer’s capabilities, she marveled inwardly, This 21st century is truly something, though it’s a pity there’s no spiritual energy.

Without spiritual energy, cultivation was impossible.

And with the meager amount of true q she could currently mobilize, what would happen if she encountered a powerful cultivator? She’d be annihilated!

No, before finding a way back to the cultivation world, I need to thoroughly understand this world’s situation.

“Song Cheng, review the statement. If there are no omissions, sign here,” the officer said, pointing to the signature line.

Song Cheng flipped through the statement, confirming its accuracy. She took the pen offered by the officer, then paused. “Do you have a calligraphy brush?”

The officer stared blankly.

“I’m not used to this type of pen,” she added.

The officer’s lips twitched slightly. He rose from his chair, walked to a colleague’s desk, and retrieved the calligraphy brush his colleague used for practice during downtime. He also brought over an inkstone and placed them before Song Cheng. “Will this do?”

Song Cheng nodded, picked up the brush, and signed her name in the Cultivation script.

The police officer pressed his lips into a thin line, hit the Enter key, and printed another copy of the statement. He pointed sternly at the signature line. “Write in regular script.”

Song Cheng rummaged through the original owner’s memories for a long time before understanding what “regular script” meant. She picked up the brush again and signed her name.

“Give me back my sword,” she said, looking up first.

“We can return your sword, but remember: you can’t carry it on the street, and you definitely can’t use it to stop people in public,” the officer said, glancing at the two girls huddled together on the chairs, their arms linked. “Look how terrified you’ve made them.”

Song Cheng didn’t even blink. “What’s it to me how they feel?”

Before the officer could reply, she walked to the desk, grabbed her sword, and strode out.

Just as she reached the door, she saw the girl with the bun hairstyle running toward her, panting. “Sister Song, are you okay?”

Song Cheng glanced at the girl again, retrieving her information from her memory.

This girl was Zhu Ke, the original owner’s assistant.

Seeing Song Cheng’s silence and her hands nervously twisting the hem of her dress, Zhu Ke hesitated, then asked, “Sister Song, you must be exhausted after a long day. Should I take you home first?”

Song Cheng gave a soft “Mm,” signaling her agreement.

Having done it once, the second time felt familiar. The awkwardness from earlier had vanished as she settled into the tax.

The tax soon pulled up to the villa district. As Song Cheng reached for the door, Zhu Ke grabbed her arm.

Before she could ask what was wrong, Zhu Ke stood up, hunched over, and peered cautiously toward the gate. “No reporters, Sister Song. You can go in safely!”

It wasn’t until Song Cheng stepped through the gate that she understood Zhu Ke’s paranoia about reporters.

She shook her head slightly. This world is truly bizarre. Gossip has become a profession.

Following her memory, she found her original body’s home and instinctively raised her hand to knock.

The door swung open quickly, revealing Sister Feng, the housekeeper, wearing an apron. Seeing the sword in Song Cheng’s hand, Sister Feng recoiled, glancing nervously at the living room. Her voice trembled as she announced, “Xiao Cheng is back.”

Entering the living room, Song Cheng saw her father, Song Tianfu, and mother, Wu Guifang, sitting on the sofa. On the coffee table in front of them lay a string of keys and a small, dark red notebook.

Before Song Cheng could speak, Wu Guifang sprang up from the sofa, her voice flustered. “Put down whatever you’re holding right now!”

Song Cheng glanced around before carefully placing the sword and the bag Zhu Ke had given her on the sofa opposite Wu Guifang. Her gaze then settled on the clusters of keys.

Over a decade ago, the original owner of her body had struck it rich when Father Song won five million yuan in the lottery. Mother Song immediately used the money to buy a house. Within five years, the property was slated for demolition, and their thirty-odd apartments instantly transformed into two entire buildings.

In local parlance, the original owner was a textbook “demolition heir”—no wonder others sneered at her as a nouveau riche. After all, the Song family now earned several million yuan each month solely from rental income.

With her concerns allayed, Wu Guifang steered the conversation to business. “Aside from the company your brother manages, all our family’s assets are here. Roughly estimated, they’re worth around three hundred million yuan.”

Three hundred million yuan?

Song Cheng’s mind raced. She quickly realized that in this world, three hundred million yuan qualified her as a billionaire—a fortune beyond the wildest dreams of countless ordinary families.

“Your father and I discussed this early on. We’ve decided to give you two-thirds of the assets here.”

That would be two hundred million yuan. At current prices, even if she did nothing, she could live comfortably for the rest of her life on that sum. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of life she had always dreamed of after achieving immortality?

It was also one of the main motivations behind her frequent cultivation training.

Unfortunately, none of this belonged to her, nor should it.

Just as Song Cheng was about to despair, Wu Guifang’s voice cut through the air again: “If you don’t quit that chaotic entertainment industry, you won’t see a single penny.”

“How can I do that?” The words slipped out before she could think.

Having taken someone else’s body, I should protect what’s rightfully theirs, she added silently. Even if I don’t need it, it’s good to have.

Besides, that entertainment industry was a cesspool of corruption and intrigue—not fun at all.

With this thought, she immediately declared, “I’ll quit!”

Wu Guifang’s face was etched with disbelief as she turned to Song Tianfu beside her.

Song Tianfu cleared his throat and said, “Given your obsession with that Xu We, you need to take concrete action. Otherwise, all the money will go to your brother. Don’t come crying to us about a dowry when you get married.” With that, they both stood up and left.

Before leaving, they remembered to take several sets of keys and a dark red notebook.

As if struck by a sudden thought, Wu Guifang paused. “I’ve already had your brother freeze your bank card. Same rule applies: quit the entertainment industry, and you’ll get your money back.”

Song Cheng grasped the key point: without quitting, she’d be penniless.

In this era where everything cost money, being broke meant starving.

No way. I need to quit right now.

She turned and sat on the sofa, rummaging through her bag for her phone. She tapped the screen, awkwardly opened the contacts, and found her manager Hongxia’s name. She wanted to call immediately, but Sister Feng was still bustling around the living room. She stood up, sword in one hand and phone in the other, and headed upstairs to her original body’s room.

Closing the door behind her, she ignored the room’s layout and went straight to the desk. She set down the sword, sat in the chair, and stared at Hongxia’s phone number.

Tilting her head slightly, she recalled how her original body made calls and tapped the green phone icon.

Almost instantly, a dial tone sounded.

She instinctively tossed her phone onto the table and leaned back.

As the ringing stopped, she stepped forward to enter the room, but Hongxia’s sharp voice cut through the air: “You must be completely insane to drag the production team into this! If you want to ruin yourself, fine, but don’t drag the entire agency down with you!”

Song Cheng opened her mouth to speak, but Hongxia’s voice snapped again: “This show was created by Director Zhang’s son. Director Zhang is practically half the entertainment industry! Liu Zimang and Xu We only joined the show because of his influence. We finally managed to get you a spot, and you have the audacity to bring this up so openly, dragging the production team into it again and again! Demanding the production team pay you back? Why don’t you just fly to the moon?”

“I’d fly to the moon if I could,” Song Cheng retorted coldly. “Would you dare come with me?”

The last person who dared to yell at her like this had grass growing several feet tall over their grave.

This woman should be grateful it’s the 21st century, or Song Cheng would have silenced her permanently.

A mouth that can’t speak is utterly useless!

Perhaps sensing her fury, Hongxia’s voice softened slightly on the other end of the line: “If you want to stay in this industry, you need to know what to say and what to keep quiet. Otherwise, don’t blame the agency for shelving you and preventing you from ever sharing the stage with your idol again. You can’t afford to waste five years!”

“What five years?” Song Cheng asked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the five-year contract you signed with the company. If the show’s production team decides to pursue this, you’ll definitely be blacklisted.”

“I want to terminate the contract.”

“You’re insane! Completely insane!” After a pause, Hongxia’s voice rang out again. “Bring fifty million yuan in termination fees to the company, and they might consider it.”

Fifty million? Why don’t you just rob a bank? Before Song Cheng could voice her thoughts, the call screen abruptly switched back to the home screen.

She stared intently at her phone screen, replaying Hongxia’s words in her mind.

The word “blacklisted” immediately made her pick up the phone. Using the original owner’s memories, she opened the browser and searched for the meaning of the term.

When the input interface appeared, she hesitated. After several attempts, she awkwardly tapped the screen with a single finger.

The pinyin characters that appeared were incorrect, infuriating her. She clenched her fist, forcing herself to remain patient and keep trying.

Just as she was about to lose her temper, she finally found the correct characters.

To fully understand the term, she clicked on the first few links and read them carefully. After reviewing all the information, she concluded that “blacklisted” was essentially equivalent to being forced out of the entertainment industry.

So all she had to do was wait for the show’s production team to get angry. To avoid offending them, her agency would blacklist her.

Realizing this, Song Cheng tossed her phone aside in disgust. She rummaged through her belongings until she found a rag suitable for wiping her sword. As she polished the blade, she muttered, “I’ll have to get the scabbard back later. What’s the point of a sword without a scabbard?”

Meanwhile, at the Talent Clash Clash production studio, the entire staff, including host Zeng Jiong, hung their heads low, enduring the wrath of Zhang Heng, Director Zhang’s son.

After venting his anger, Zhang Heng planted his hands on his hips. “What are today’s viewership figures?”

Zhou Quan, the live broadcast data manager, immediately sprang from his chair and reported nervously, “The initial numbers were mediocre, but after—” He glanced cautiously at Zhang Heng to confirm he had calmed down before continuing, “After Song Cheng’s stunt, viewership skyrocketed.”

Sensing Zhang Heng’s piercing glare, Zhou Quan immediately lowered his head, wiping sweat from his brow as he added, “I took the initiative to edit Song Cheng and Mentor Liu’s performance into a short video and posted it on our official website. The video has already surpassed 200,000 shares, and our website’s follower count has increased by 20,000.”

Zhang Heng slammed his hand on the table, his voice sharp. “So our show’s popularity now depends on Song Cheng’s antics?”

Under his intense gaze, Zeng Jiong tugged at his tie and rose to his feet. “It could also be the combined influence of Liu Zimang and Xu We’s fanbases. We should monitor the trends further.”

Before dawn the next day, Song Cheng rose and went to the backyard to practice martial arts.

She was currently practicing a self-created sword technique, a fusion of mortal martial arts and Sword Sect sword forms. When her true q was insufficient, she often used it for self-defense.

Unfortunately, her current body disliked strenuous exercise, preventing her from reaching peak condition.

By the time she finished practicing, the sun had fully risen.

After breakfast, just as she was about to go out and explore the world more deeply, she opened the door to find Zhu Ke pacing anxiously in front of her house.

“Sister Song, why aren’t you answering your phone? I… I didn’t want to disturb your parents, so I didn’t dare ring the doorbell,” Zhu Ke said, glancing at her watch and turning to leave. “Sister Song, we don’t have much time left. We need to hurry!”

Song Cheng stood motionless. “What do you want?”

Zhu Ke stopped and turned back to face her. “Sister Song, didn’t you get enough rest? This show is being filmed over five days, and today is the third day.”

Song Cheng hummed in acknowledgment and began walking. “Go get my sword sheath.”

Zhu Ke looked utterly bewildered, scratching her head. After pondering for a long moment, she still couldn’t grasp Song Cheng’s meaning.

By the time she gave up, Song Cheng had already walked far ahead. Zhu Ke hurried to catch up, jogging after her.

When Song Cheng arrived at the studio, she noticed the stage layout had changed from the previous day. A temporary cabin had been erected on the right side of the stage, labeled “Waiting Area.”

Though hastily constructed, the waiting area had all the essentials. Several sofas and benches were arranged artfully on the floor, and small decorative items adorned the walls. A hanging chair even occupied one corner.

Since three sides of the room were transparent, the contestants vying for attention all chose to sit on the sofas and benches, maintaining a polished image.

Song Cheng found the hanging chair particularly appealing. She stepped onto the platform and headed straight for the waiting area.

A sidelong glance caught Liu Zimang sitting at the mentor’s table, and she paused.

Today, Liu Zimang wore a white V-neck gown. The low neckline offered tantalizing glimpses of her figure while fully exposing her fair, swan-like neck. The red mole at her collarbone bloomed like a delicate flower.

Dressed like this, Liu Zimang should have exuded captivating charm. Yet her exquisite face remained as expressionless as it had been during their first meeting yesterday, deterring casual approaches.

But that was only for others.

Song Cheng changed direction and strode toward Liu Zimang. Leaning forward with her hands braced on the table, she closed the distance between them. “This outfit suits you perfectly,” she said, tilting her head to study Liu Zimang’s face. Seizing a moment when Liu Zimang’s attention wavered, she leaned in even closer. “You’re missing a touch of blush. Shall I help you with that?”

When Liu Zimang remained silent, she added, “When your cheeks flush with color, you’ll truly capture hearts with a single glance.”