Hi, Wifey! [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 24

Fu Xia had been hospitalized for a week, causing significant delays for the film crew. From the moment she returned to set, they’d been shooting her scenes nonstop, exhausting her to the point where she stopped forcing micro-expressions and even resurrected the long-abandoned cue cards.

Every day, Zhou Wen bought coffee for the crew, hoping they’d go easy on their young actress. Though everyone assured her with repeated “no problems”, behind the cameras they became increasingly demanding, seemingly determined to cram a week’s worth of missed scenes into three days.

Director Chen even gave some supporting actors time off, telling them to return the following week.

The news made Fu Xia’s liver tremble.

“Feeling better?”

Zhou Wen had booked Fu Xia a full spa treatment at the hotel—aromatherapy, full-body massage, and foot reflexology. Two strong-handed masseuses worked out the knots from her exhausting week.

Hugging a pillow, Fu Xia whined, “I’m so tired. This intense filming schedule is going to drain me dry sooner or later.”

Zhou Wen sighed. “Can’t be helped. While you were hospitalized, they shot everyone else’s scenes. Now that you’re back, of course they’re going to focus on you.”

Fu Xia was just venting. She buried her face in the pillow and finally relaxed.

After the massage, she took a long, soothing bath, washing away the fatigue of the day. Sitting on the sofa, she gazed at the view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping the warm milk Zhou Wen had given her. “This is the life,” she murmured. “Work, rest, and a beautiful view.”

Zhou Wen sat beside her, crossing her legs. “Just got a call from the charity gala organizers. They want us to send the auction item a week early. Have you decided what to donate?”

Fu Xia shook her head. “No idea. What do people usually auction?”

“It’s a charity dinner—anything goes,” Zhou Wen said. “Your clothes? Jewelry?”

“But those are secondhand,” Fu Xia said, frowning. “I don’t like strangers owning my used things.”

After a past incident with an obsessive fan, she had become particular about her belongings, especially when they ended up in the hands of unknown people.

“Then what do you want to auction?” Zhou Wen asked.

Fu Xia had no answer.

After a long silence, Zhou Wen hesitantly suggested, “Well… Cheng Wanyu is also attending the gala. Why don’t you ask her?”

Fu Xia froze, turning to stare at Zhou Wen as if she’d seen a ghost. “Zhou Wen-jie, have you lost your mind? You want me to ask her?”

She leaned in and whispered, “Tell me the truth—does the company have it out for her? Are you sending me to mess with her?”

Zhou Wen smacked Fu Xia’s head with a loud “thwack.” “I just thought you two have been getting along well lately! If you don’t know what to auction, why not consult her? What’s the big deal?”

Fu Xia rubbed her head, too resentful to argue, and muttered, “But didn’t you tell me to stay away from her before?”

Zhou Wen thought about Cheng Wanyu and sighed. “I just think she’s a good person. She’s never been unkind to you. You don’t have many friends in the industry—maybe you could try… getting closer to her.”

After a moment of silence, Fu Xia nodded and took out her phone, saying, “Alright, I’ll ask her on WeChat.”

Zhou Wen slapped her again in anger, scolding, “Go downstairs and talk to her in person!”

Fu Xia: “…Whimper.”

When Fu Xia stood outside Cheng Wanyu’s door, it took her a great deal of resolve to finally raise her hand and ring the doorbell.

Not long after, the door clicked open. Cheng Wanyu, who seemed to have just finished showering, stood at the entrance in a black dress, her skin still damp. She looked at Fu Xia and couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”

Fu Xia clasped her hands behind her back and adjusted her hat, clearing her throat before saying, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cheng Wanyu seemed to smile faintly before stepping aside and opening the door wider. “Come in.”

As Fu Xia entered, she noticed the television in the living room playing a video of a symphony orchestra. The rich, melodious sound filled the room as she watched the musicians skillfully handle their instruments. Each person’s movements were different, yet together they created a magnificent and powerful composition.

“You’re listening to a symphony?” Fu Xia asked curiously, her eyes lingering on the conductor’s expressive face. “It sounds really nice.”

Cheng Wanyu walked over and turned the volume down slightly. “Sister Guan asked me to familiarize myself with some symphonic pieces for my next project. I’m doing some research on it now.”

Fu Xia watched the synchronized movements on the screen and couldn’t help but say, “That’s impressive. You already have your next project lined up, while I still have no idea what I’ll be doing once this one wrap up.”

Cheng Wanyu didn’t respond. Instead, she poured Fu Xia a glass of water and asked, “What brings you here today? Were you thinking of grabbing some late-night snacks?”

Fu Xia grinned, her eyes curving into crescents. “I came to talk to you about something important today.”

As if implying her previous visits had been for less serious matters. But seeing Fu Xia so cheerful made Cheng Wanyu’s heart soften. She leaned in slightly and asked, “So, what did you come to talk to me about?”

Fu Xia caught a whiff of Cheng Wanyu’s shower gel—a crisp, oceanic scent with a slightly astringent edge.

“Um…” Fu Xia felt a little flustered but forced herself to stay composed. “It’s about the charity gala. They invited me, right? And they want the auction items submitted a week in advance. I’m not sure what to donate, so I thought I’d ask you.”

Cheng Wanyu leaned against the table by the TV stand, crossing her arms. “You haven’t decided yet?”

Fu Xia took a sip of water. “That’s why I came to ask for your advice.”

Cheng Wanyu said, “I’m planning to auction a set of jewelry I bought while filming in Africa. It’s not expensive, but it’s quite beautiful.”

Fu Xia sighed enviously. “Africa… If I went there, I’d probably come back looking like a local.”

“It’s not that hot. There are plenty of scenic cities there,” Cheng Wanyu replied, her dark, bright eyes fixed on Fu Xia. “Why don’t you do the same and auction a piece of jewelry or something similar?”

Most attendees at these charity galas were just putting on a show. Celebrities might appear glamorous, but beyond their good looks, they often had little to offer. The items up for auction were usually limited to a few predictable categories—personal collections being the simplest and most convenient choice.

Fu Xia held her water glass with both hands, looking somewhat troubled as she said, “I don’t really like others using things I’ve used before, and I don’t have any collecting hobbies either. So, I’m not sure what would be appropriate to offer.”

Cheng Wanyu observed Fu Xia’s awkward demeanor and thought for a moment before asking, “Can you paint?”

Fu Xia blinked in surprise. “Paint?”

“Yes,” Cheng Wanyu suggested. “If you don’t want to auction something you’ve used, painting a picture would be a good alternative. Although—”

Before Cheng Wanyu could finish, Fu Xia interjected, “I took oil painting lessons for a year when I was little. Maybe I could paint something.”

This way, it wouldn’t be something she had used, and it could still be auctioned.

It sounded like a decent idea.

Having decided to paint, Fu Xia texted Zhou Wen. After receiving a single ‘?’ in response, she happily put away her phone and said to Cheng Wanyu, who was drying her hair, “Are you hungry? Let’s go downstairs for a late-night snack. It’s been a while since we’ve had one together.”

Cheng Wanyu blew her semi-dry black hair a bit more before turning off the hairdryer. “Sure. The convenience store again?”

“I’m tired of eating at convenience stores every day,” Fu Xia said, swinging her legs as she sat on the sofa. “How about we have some drinks?”

Cheng Wanyu gave her a deep look. Fu Xia was wearing black shark pants and an oversized hip-hop-style T-shirt, her white baseball cap already taken off. Cheng Wanyu’s gaze lingered on her slender, long legs before she murmured, “Drinking isn’t a good idea. We have filming tomorrow.”

Fu Xia kicked her feet lightly. “Just one small drink. I heard there’s a bar nearby. Should we… order delivery?”

Cheng Wanyu: “……?”

Fu Xia’s erratic train of thought left Cheng Wanyu momentarily speechless, but she still stopped Fu Xia from reaching for her phone. “I have beer here. Let’s order some barbecue instead. That counts as a late-night snack too.”

Fu Xia’s eyes lit up instantly. “Great! I’ll—”

“I’ll order,” Cheng Wanyu firmly pressed down on Fu Xia’s hand, her gaze intense. “I’ll handle the barbecue. Don’t move.”

Please, for the love of God, don’t order anything. I’m begging you.

Cheng Wanyu really didn’t want to eat lamb kidneys or sheep eyes again. She just wanted a peaceful barbecue meal.

This time, Cheng Wanyu ordered nearly a thousand-yuan worth of barbecue—almost enough to clear out the entire stall. Aside from their own portions, the rest was distributed among the actors and staff staying at the hotel. Everyone enjoyed a lively late-night feast, including Zhou Wen, who found herself unable to stay angry while holding her share of barbecue.

Once Fu Xia decided to paint, she took full charge of everything—from selecting the paints to sketching the composition. After a whole week, she finally had a rough draft. Cheng Wanyu had come up to check on her a few times during the process, but it wasn’t until the painting was finished that she realized Fu Xia had depicted the city nightscape outside their floor-to-ceiling window.

The deep blue night scene, the neon-lit skyscrapers—all were imprinted on the canvas. Up close, the flaws were obvious, but from a distance of over a meter, it looked passable.

Covered in dust with a small apron tied around her waist, Fu Xia cheerfully said to Cheng Wanyu, “I originally planned to paint our boss. You know him, right? The one whose paternity test showed neither of his two sons was biologically his. I heard he was so shocked that he’s now suffering from patchy hair loss from stress. So tragic.”

As she spoke, Fu Xia absentmindedly scratched her itchy cheek with her paint-smeared hand, smearing the deep blue pigment even further across her face.

Cheng Wanyu watched her amateurish painting efforts with disproportionate enthusiasm and couldn’t help sighing. She pulled out a wet wipe to clean the paint off Fu Xia’s cheek, but finding it stubborn, said, “Go wash up in the bathroom. Your entire face is ruined.”

“What? Really?” Fu Xia exclaimed in alarm, cupping her face. At Cheng Wanyu’s nod, she hurried off to the bathroom. Left alone in the living room, Cheng Wanyu turned her gaze to the freshly completed artwork. She took out her phone, snapped a photo, then opened WeChat to send it to Cheng Hongzhi’s contact.

Cheng Wanyu: Spare no expense to acquire this painting.

Cheng Hongzhi: …

Having a sister more domineering than himself—what was he to do?