Hi, Wifey! [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 18

In the dead of night, the spacious hotel suite bedroom was filled with the steady hum of the air conditioner, its chilly breeze causing Fu Xia to curl up under the covers.

A faint glow emanated from beneath her blanket. Though she knew playing with her phone late at night was bad for her eyes, she couldn’t resist scrolling through it. Glancing at the time—12:37 AM—she reassured herself: I’ll definitely sleep when it hits 12:40, just to round it off.

When 12:40 came, she rolled over and made another promise: Okay, 12:45 for sure.

By the time it was past 1 AM, she reluctantly turned off her phone—she really needed to sleep.

Lately, she had been obsessed with reading fanfiction about herself and Cheng Wanyu, watching all sorts of CP videos. It was only then that Fu Xia realized just how multi-talented Cheng Wanyu was—excellent in movies, brilliant in TV dramas, and even her concert vocals were stunning.

The Cheng-Fu ship’s fan community had even pinned Cheng Wanyu’s official schedule, which confirmed her concert would be held in December.

Fu Xia did the math—if nothing unexpected happened, it would likely be the month after City: Little Seasons wrapped up. The neatly organized itinerary almost made her think it was an official announcement.

Tucking her phone under her pillow, Fu Xia snuggled deeper into her thick blanket, listening to the air conditioner’s steady hum.

The colder it was outside, the cozier the bed felt. She loved sleeping like this—freezing air conditioning in the middle of summer, bundled up in a warm cocoon.

Just then, she heard a faint rustling sound from the outer area of the suite, barely audible over the air conditioner.

She didn’t pay it much mind—hotels were always bustling with people. Maybe someone was just passing by her door. She tried to fall asleep quickly; if she didn’t get enough rest, the makeup artist would scold her for puffy eyes again.

But as she drifted off, the rustling didn’t fade—if anything, it grew louder, right outside her door.

Now too unsettled to sleep, she turned on the light and sat up. The sound was unmistakable now—like someone crumpling paper. It was strange.

She checked the time: 1:30 AM. Who would be standing outside my door crumpling paper at this hour?

The answer was: No one normal.

So, Fu Xia got out of bed, slipped on her shoes, and quietly cracked open the bedroom door. The living room was pitch black, except for a sliver of light seeping in from under the front door.

The hallway lights were always on, but when she peeked through the peephole, there was no one outside.

Cautiously, she opened the door a little wider—still nothing. The eerie feeling lingered, so she locked the door securely before heading back to bed.

The next morning, Fu Xia told Zhou Wen about the incident. Though puzzled, Zhou Wen took it seriously and reported it to the front desk. The hotel staff reviewed the security footage and confirmed that someone had been lingering outside Fu Xia’s door. However, it turned out to be another guest who had mistaken the floor—their key card didn’t work, so they left after realizing their mistake.

Zhou Wen held the video sent by the hotel manager and said to Fu Xia, “It was just a guest who got the floor wrong. Here’s the footage the hotel just sent—it really doesn’t seem like an issue.”

But just to be safe, Zhou Wen asked, “Do you want to switch rooms?”

Fu Xia hugged her coffee cup and replied, “If it was just a mistake, there’s no need to move. I’ve gotten used to that room.”

Besides, Cheng Wanyu lived right next door, and she could always drag her downstairs for late-night snacks. Moving would definitely make things less convenient.

“Fine if you don’t want to switch,” Zhou Wen said, eyeing her. “But if you feel uncomfortable at all, just say so. We can change floors or rooms anytime.”

Fu Xia waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not that serious. I’m not some high-maintenance actress. Guests mixing up floors happens all the time—no big deal.”

Seeing her attitude, Zhou Wen didn’t press further, only reminding her to double-check the door lock before sleeping.

In the following days, however, Fu Xia received numerous snacks from fans—all of which Zhou Wen threw away. Fan gifts weren’t always safe, and Zhou Wen didn’t dare let Fu Xia eat them, so she disposed of them outright.

Beyond the gifts, Fu Xia also encountered a stalker car. The black vehicle tailed theirs from the film set all the way onto the elevated highway. It was Zhou Wen’s sharp eyes that noticed something off, prompting the driver to circle the city’s ring road several times before finally shaking it off.

Back at the hotel, Zhou Wen immediately called the agency, demanding they issue a public notice titled “No to Sasaeng Behavior,” urging fans to support celebrities rationally without intruding on their private lives or engaging in dangerous actions like stalking.

After handling all this, Zhou Wen slumped onto the sofa, rubbing her temples in frustration. “Who knows if this’ll even work. Xia, be extra careful these next few days. If things get worse, we might have to switch hotels.”

Fu Xia brewed her a cup of instant coffee—a peace offering—and placed it before her. “Isn’t this kind of thing pretty common? Don’t get so worked up, Zhou Wen-jie,” she said, dropping three sugar cubes into the cup. “Is three sweet enough?”

“Alright,” Zhou Wen took the coffee. “You focus on your work. But if you notice anything or anyone suspicious, tell me immediately, got it?”

Fu Xia knew all too well how terrifying sasaeng fans could be. Once, at a fan meet, she’d watched in horror as a female artist nearby got groped during a fan’s confession. The memory still unnerved her.

It really was scary.

But since Zhou Wen was already so stressed over her, Fu Xia didn’t want to add to her worries. Smiling, she reassured, “I’ll be careful. I’ll stay put in the hotel—nowhere else. Don’t worry, Zhou Wen-jie.”

Zhou Wen had other agency work after Fu Xia’s filming wrapped, so she’d be heading back today. Whenever Fu Xia had schedules, her workload spiked too.

Before leaving, Zhou Wen asked, “Remember that charity gala we discussed earlier?”

Fu Xia nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Every artist has to donate an item for auction,” Zhou Wen explained. “Think about what you could offer.”

Fu Xia pondered for a moment. She had quite a few things, but whether they were suitable for auction required careful consideration.

“Take your time thinking about it. There’s no rush,” Zhou Wen said to her. “Don’t go out these next few days, understand?”

Fu Xia obediently nodded and saw Zhou Wen out.

Returning to her room, she locked the door before finally letting herself relax, lying on the bed and continuing to scroll through her phone.

A green notification bubble lit up. Fu Xia tapped it open and saw that the cast group chat was active.

Production Assistant: “Chushi is being discharged from the hospital today and will likely return to set for filming tomorrow~”

Fang Chushi: “Thank you all for your concern. I’ll be back to filming tomorrow.”

Unlike the early days, after Fang Chushi sent this message, no one replied for a long while. It took about two or three minutes before an actor who was relatively close to him finally responded—though it was just a clapping emoji, and nothing more.

Fang Chushi probably felt awkward, so he added in the group: “I know my absence has delayed the production schedule quite a bit. To make up for it, I’d like to treat everyone to dinner tomorrow.”

Supporting Actor #1: “You just got out of the hospital—no need to treat us.”

Fang Chushi: “How could I not? Next week, my scenes will be wrapped up, so don’t refuse. I’ve already booked a table at Lake Maple Hotel. Everyone must come tomorrow!”

Lake Maple Hotel was a well-known five-star establishment in the area. The moment people heard the reservation was there, they were stunned. After all, the minimum per-person cost was at least two to three thousand. Treating the entire cast to a meal there? Just how much was he willing to spend?

But Fang Chushi wasn’t foolish—he only invited the actors in the group chat to strengthen his relationships with them. The production crew and assistants weren’t included.

Director Chen finally chimed in: “Lake Maple Hotel, huh? Xiao Fang’s really making a name for himself, treating everyone to dinner. But if there’s no bird’s nest or shark fin in this meal, I’m not going.”

Fang Chushi: “Of course there will be! Order whatever delicacies you want.”

Supporting Actor #2: “Well then, we won’t hold back!”

Fang Chushi: “No need to hold back—we’re all good friends here!”

Supporting Actor #3: “Sweet! Tomorrow night’s on Young Master Fang!”

Fang Chushi: “Hahaha, order whatever you want tomorrow—it’s all on me!”

Watching the lively atmosphere in the group, Fu Xia didn’t feel like saying anything. During her time on set, she had barely spoken in the actors’ group chat.

Zhou Wen constantly reminded her that “loose lips sink ships,” advising her to speak less and work more. Fu Xia had always followed this advice, never saying anything unnecessary.

Just as she was about to exit the chat, another notification bubble lit up.

Cheng Wanyu: “Want to grab some late-night snacks?”

Without hesitation, Fu Xia replied: “Sure!”

After changing, Fu Xia put on a black baseball cap and knocked on Cheng Wanyu’s door next door. Seeing that she was also wearing a black baseball cap, Fu Xia couldn’t help but laugh. “Our hats match—what do we do? Your fans won’t come after me, will they?”

Cheng Wanyu knew she was joking and smiled. “No, no one will notice us sneaking out for a snack.”

Fu Xia clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. “Right. Zhou Wen still hasn’t caught me eating late-night snacks. Seems like I’m pretty good at hiding it.”

Chen Wanyu found Fu Xia utterly adorable for this self-praise and smiled as they went downstairs to a convenience store for a late-night snack.

Today, Fu Xia bought instant noodles again. Chen Wanyu, probably tired of oden, followed suit and got the same flavor.

The young girl who shipped “Cheng-Fu” nearly fainted at the sight of them wearing matching baseball caps and eating identical instant noodles, her face flushed red as if she wanted to stamp “Cheng-Fu” on her forehead.

Finally escaping the girl’s gaze, Fu Xia sat in front of her noodles, scrolling through her phone while waiting for them to cook.

The group chat had exploded, flooding with messages in seconds.

“Fang Chushi is treating the crew to dinner tomorrow. Are you going?” Fu Xia looked up at Chen Wanyu. “It’s at Lake Maple Hotel.”

Chen Wanyu’s dark, gleaming eyes met hers as she replied calmly, “If you go, I go.”