Hi, Wifey! [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 29

After finishing the highway shoot, Cheng Wanyu took her plump cat out for a stroll. Most cats would either run around excitedly or hide in fear when in unfamiliar places, but this cat was different—it simply found a stone pedestal to sit on, basking in the late summer warmth.

Fu Xia played with the chubby cat all day without realizing it was the same cat that had once appeared at her company. Guazi (the cat) merely squinted at her without making a sound.

When work wrapped up, Fu Xia carried Guazi over to chat with Cheng Wanyu. The cat kept slipping from her arms, so Cheng Wanyu reached out and took it, gently rubbing its head as she observed its grumpy little expression.

Fu Xia adored animals, but her constant travels made pet ownership impossible. Watching Cheng Wanyu’s easy rapport with Guazi, she couldn’t hide her envy.

“He’s so well-behaved,” Fu Xia remarked. “Other cats would never stay this calm. I’ve heard most hate being held.”

Cuddling Guazi, Cheng Wanyu laughed. “He’s just too lazy to struggle. Without me here, he wouldn’t be this approachable.”

Undeterred, Fu Xia scratched Guazi’s chin and looked up. “Let’s take a photo together?”

The scenic location seemed wasted on just filming. Cheng Wanyu agreed, and they found a picturesque spot by the sea. Sitting side by side with the indifferent cat between them, they faced the camera.

Click—

Dissatisfied with the first shot, Fu Xia rearranged them—each raising opposite hands to form a heart above their heads. The final frame captured them smiling, with Guazi’s fur ruffled by ocean breezes between them. Delighted, Fu Xia immediately shared the photo with Cheng Wanyu.

As Cheng Wanyu studied Fu Xia’s beaming face on her phone, her fingers unconsciously traced the smiling image.

Production progressed faster than expected. Director Chen’s initial October wrap estimate became late September—a full month ahead of schedule. After four months, Fu Xia had grown close to the entire crew. The wrap party overflowed with drunken sentimentality, some even begging the director for roles in his next project.

Retreating to a quiet corner, Fu Xia watched the revelry with wistful eyes. Zhou Wen found her and asked, “Not joining the toast? You’re the lead.”

“I’d kill the mood,” Fu Xia replied, sipping champagne.

Zhou Wen sighed. “With no projects until Spring Festival, you’ll have plenty of rest.”

This outcome didn’t surprise Fu Xia. Her poor reputation and string of bad films kept opportunities scarce.

“I’ll scout for variety show appearances,” Zhou Wen offered.

With a light laugh, Fu Xia said, “Thank you, Sister Zhou Wen.”

Major variety shows were typically recorded and aired in the first half of the year. By the second half, singers would prepare for New Year’s Eve galas, while some acting celebrities took breaks and others filmed movies for the Spring Festival season. Generally, variety shows flourished in the first half of the year, with less excitement in the latter half until after the Spring Festival.

This was Fu Xia’s first time joining a production team in a year. Once filming wrapped up, she might not have any other acting projects lined up. The popular and well-received variety shows she had recorded had already aired, leaving her in a state of limbo, waiting for the company’s arrangements.

But this year was different for Fu Xia—she had her own plans.

Zhou Wen, observing Fu Xia’s indifferent expression, couldn’t help but say, “I’ve already arranged your new apartment for you. It’s been simply decorated, and you can move in a couple of days. Just rest well at home.”

Fu Xia paused and asked, “Does my mom know where I live?”

Zhou Wen shook her head. “I didn’t tell her. She won’t be able to find you, so don’t worry.”

“Oh,” Fu Xia replied, finishing her champagne in one gulp. She turned to Zhou Wen and said, “Let me say goodbye to Director Chen, then we can leave. I don’t fit in here anyway—might as well head back early.”

Watching Fu Xia walks away, Zhou Wen sighed softly.

She knew Fu Xia was a good girl, but the entertainment industry truly didn’t seem to suit her…

Without bidding farewell to the other actors, Fu Xia and Zhou Wen left the hotel early the next morning. Their driver spent two hours stuck in city traffic before finally stopping at the entrance of an upscale residential complex.

Zhou Wen stepped out first and said to Fu Xia, “You’ll be on the 15th floor. I’ll help with the luggage. Once we’ve settled your things, we’ll go to the property management to register your fingerprint and facial recognition. After that, you can just scan your face to come and go.”

Fu Xia glanced around. The surroundings were lush with greenery, and despite being outside the Second Ring Road, it wasn’t as noisy as she had expected—a peaceful retreat amidst the bustle.

Seeing the driver and Zhou Wen carrying most of her luggage, Fu Xia hurried over to grab two bags. “Let me help too. It’ll be faster this way.”

Truth be told, the late September heat was still intense. By the time they finished, Fu Xia was drenched in sweat. Zhou Wen turned on the air conditioning and stood in front of the vent to cool off. The driver, Old Zhou, still had to park the car in the underground garage, leaving just the two of them in the apartment.

Fanning herself with her hand, Zhou Wen watched as Fu Xia explored the place. “I know you don’t like big spaces, but something too small would feel cramped. This place has three bedrooms, two living rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom—just right for you alone.”

Fu Xia wandered around her new home twice. As it was a high-end complex, the layout was well thought out. The three-bedroom, two-living-room design didn’t feel crowded at all. The living and dining areas were spacious, easily exceeding 100 square meters. The three bedrooms were also generously sized, and there was a huge balcony. Zhou Wen had furnished it with two fabric sofas and a coffee table, while the other side was filled with potted plants, resembling a small greenhouse.

“It’s quite big,” Fu Xia remarked to Zhou Wen. “When you bring your kids over in the future, they can stay in the guest room. That’s nice.”

At this, Zhou Wen looked up at Fu Xia but didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “Should we have lunch here or go out?”

“Of course we should eat out on moving day,” Fu Xia said with a smile. “You, Old Zhou, and me—let’s go for hot pot. I saw a place on the way here that looked pretty good.”

“Alright,” Zhou Wen nodded. “We’ll go for hot pot once Old Zhou comes up.”

After finishing the meal, Fu Xia found herself alone in the nearly 200-square-meter apartment as Zhou Wen and driver Old Zhou had already left. Lying quietly on the bed, the silence was so profound she could hear her own breathing.

‘Ding-ding—’

Her phone chimed. Reaching for it, she saw a WeChat notification from Cheng Wanyu: You’ve already left the hotel?

Staring at the cityscape photo in Cheng’s profile, Fu Xia pondered before replying: Yeah, left this morning

Cheng Wanyu: Why didn’t you tell me?

Fu Xia: …Probably because it was rushed

What Fu Xia didn’t say was that her hasty departure stemmed from not knowing who to bid farewell to. Though the crew had over a hundred people, none seemed like proper farewell candidates—they were all work relationships that ended when filming wrapped. Strangely, after a full day away, Cheng Wanyu was the only one who’d reached out.

How ironic that the person she’d once clashed with most became the sole well-wisher at curtain call.

Hugging a pillow, Fu Xia typed: Heard from Director Chen you’re working with him again next project. Seize the opportunity—his films are award magnets. You might be wearing the Best Actress crown next year.

On her sofa, Cheng Wanyu tugged at her dark hair in frustration while staring at those words. She’d thought their months together had built real camaraderie. Her gaze fell on two concert tickets—prime VIP seats for her November show, nearly impossible to get publicly. She’d planned to gift them to Fu Xia today, only to find her gone.

With a long sigh, Cheng held the voice message button: I will, you…

After a pause, she angrily deleted it and tried again: Are you now…

Another deletion. Tossing her hair back, her elegant features twisted in irritation.

Fu Xia watched the typing indicator appear and disappear repeatedly until finally receiving just two words: Thank you.

The neat period mirrored Cheng’s meticulous personality. Staring at those characters, Fu Xia eventually closed the chat and opened a food delivery app to order late-night snacks.

Used to emotional detachment, Fu Xia had spent her first day researching local takeout ratings. Throughout September, she only left to take out trash—groceries, packages, even meals all delivered. Her new life couldn’t be more comfortable.

On the first day of October, the auction for concert tickets in Cheng-Fu’s fan group began. Fu Xia ultimately secured an inner-field ticket for 13,000 yuan. Later, she heard that the highest bid in Cheng Wanyu’s fan group reached 30,000 yuan, which left her stunned—has the cost of idol-chasing really gotten this high nowadays?

Thankfully, she wasn’t truly a CP fan.

After waiting three days, Fu Xia finally received the ticket she had won. As she held Cheng Wanyu’s concert ticket in her hands, joy filled her heart—but she couldn’t help wondering: Am I sinking deeper into this?