Hi, Wifey! [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 3

“How can our Wanyu share the stage with this woman? Look at her status—does she even deserve to stand beside Wanyu?!”

“Send wreaths to the production team! Burn joss paper for them!”

“Didn’t get enough of acting in those trashy films, Fu Vase? Now you’re trying to drag down a future Best Actress? Disgusting how you’re using Wanyu to revive your dead career!”

“I’m so mad! Wanyu should shine alone! Why pair her with Fu Vase? Damn it, I’ve cried so many times already. I’m sending razor blades to the crew!”

Amid the barrage of hateful comments, someone had photoshopped a vase onto Fu Xia’s face in one of her photos.

She had also glimpsed a doctored funeral portrait of herself before it was taken down by the platform’s moderators. But once seen, how could she pretend it didn’t exist?

The outrage snowballed from demands to “Replace the Actress” to accusations that “Fu Xia Only Photoshopped Herself in Group Pics”, pushing these hashtags to the top of trending lists. After a brief glance, Fu Xia tossed her phone aside and buried her face in her knees.

The air conditioner hummed softly in the background. Though set at a comfortable 26°C, she felt chilled to the bone.

She remembered her debut role as an orphaned girl in a tragic drama. Her character, left alone after her parents’ deaths, was adopted by the female lead—only to lose her new family by the story’s end. The climax wasn’t the leads’ demise, but Fu Xia’s heart-wrenching sobs that moved audiences to praise her as a future star.

If only they knew what she’d become, she wondered—would they regret their high hopes?

Over a decade had passed since her child-star days, an age that would make her a veteran in any industry. Yet here she was, still coasting on her looks, her filmography growing worse with each project. This rare leading role opportunity had backfired spectacularly, landing her in controversy before filming even began.

It took a long time for Fu Xia to steady herself enough to pick up her phone again. The vitriol had been buried under new chaos—fans were now at war over spotting her and Cheng Wanyu wearing matching shoes.

The actors’ group chat, previously buzzing, had gone silent for over ten minutes.

Probably all busy gossiping, she thought wryly.

Scrolling through her contacts, she hesitated to burden her busy agent or company staff with personal woes during their damage control. Noticing her outdated profile picture, she reopened the half-abandoned task of updating it. Flipping through her gallery yielded no suitable candidates, so she aimed her camera at the sunset beyond her window and set the shot as her new avatar.

Best not to get entangled with Cheng Wanyu, Fu Xia decided. Any misstep would only bring more blame crashing down on her.

Though she resisted checking the renewed surge in trending topics, relentless notifications forced her awareness. Maybe a round of gaming would distract her—after all, internet outrage burned bright but faded fast.

The gaming session lasted until sunset before Fu Xia finally put down her phone and saw her assistant’s message: What would you like for dinner?

Fu Xia knew she was trying to comfort her. After some thought, she replied: A salad would be nice, with extra lettuce.

Zhou Wen quickly responded: Got it, I’ll bring it up soon.

Closing the chat with Zhou Wen, Fu Xia noticed the actors’ group chat had become active again. She opened it to find someone asking Cheng Wanyu for autographs.

Supporting Actor 1: Teacher Cheng, could we get your autograph? I’ve always been your fan!

Supporting Actor 2: Yes! Please sign for us, Teacher Cheng! I’ve brought several white T-shirts for collection!

At this point, Cheng Wanyu appeared in the chat: Sure, I’ll sign them for you when we’re on set tomorrow.

Fu Xia noticed that Cheng Wanyu had changed her profile picture from the custard bun to a night view of the hotel. Glancing out the floor-to-ceiling window, she had to admit the production team had chosen their hotel well—the sunset and night views here were undoubtedly the best in the city. No wonder Cheng Wanyu had changed her profile picture.

For dinner, Fu Xia only picked at the salad Zhou Wen brought, eating just the lettuce leaves. Knowing Fu Xia was in low spirits, Zhou Wen said while cleaning up, “I told you to uninstall Weibo long ago. Which celebrity still browses it themselves these days?”

Spearing a cherry tomato with her fork, Fu Xia replied, “I keep it for the gossip.”

“What gossip? You’re the gossip target yourself—when do you have time to follow others?”

“I don’t have any scandals worth exposing. Others lead much more interesting lives.”

“Enough with the jokes.” Zhou Wen finished tidying up. “Get some rest early. We have an early call tomorrow.”

Nodding, Fu Xia watched Zhou Wen leave before lying back on the sofa and pulling out her phone again. Modern people simply couldn’t live without their phones—they might lose themselves, but never their precious devices. To Fu Xia, her phone was her lifeline.

True to her forgetful nature, despite having just been cyberbullied, Fu Xia reopened Weibo to check updates from the comedians she followed. Immediately, she noticed a private message—normally disabled for strangers, so it had to be from a mutual follower. It turned out to be from her fan club president.

Fu Xia Fan Club President: Xiaxia, don’t mind those comments. To us, you’re the most beautiful and talented. Because of you, we face the future with more courage. Don’t let strangers’ words affect you—you’ll always be our beloved Xia!

The comforting words actually made Fu Xia feel better. What puzzled her was why people kept comparing her to Cheng Wanyu. Though their styles were similar, they had few interactions—even deliberately avoiding the same variety shows. When unavoidable at events, Fu Xia maintained utmost respect.

Initially, Fu Xia would carefully consider her positioning in group photos with Cheng Wanyu. But after repeated criticisms from Cheng Wanyu’s fans, she’d developed a habit of standing as far away as possible—preferably at the opposite diagonal.

But even so, Cheng Wanyu’s fans wouldn’t let her off, constantly chasing her with insults. In this regard, Fu Xia’s fan club contributed their fair share—while Cheng’s fans could hurl abuse at Fu Xia, her fans would return the favor by attacking Cheng Wanyu.

The two fandoms engaged in daily online mudslinging, even escalating to offline brawls. One such airport fight had even trended on social media.

The memory of those incidents gave Fu Xia a headache. She didn’t like her fans attacking other celebrities, but some of them were simply hard to control. However, the leader of her fan club was one of the few rational voices among her supporters. She often analyzed situations to debunk false rumors about Fu Xia—a gentle and composed leader whom Fu Xia held in high regard.

Fu Xia Claire: “Thank you for the comfort. You’ve always helped me so much. I’m grateful for your long-time support (flowers).”

After sending the message, Fu Xia casually clicked into the leader’s Weibo profile. It was filled with posts promoting her—videos, check-ins, and fan content. But in the list of followed super-topics, one familiar term caught her eye—ChengFu Shipper.

ChengFu Shipper?

Fu Xia frowned slightly. She had seen this term before—wasn’t it the same one from that trending comment this morning? So, it was actually a super-topic?

Curious, she tapped into it. A flood of news about her and Cheng Wanyu greeted her, and the very first post made her eyes widen—

Cheng Wanyu and Fu Xia wore matching couple sneakers at the production launch! Standing side by side, they’re a feast for the eyes!

Fu Xia thought she must be mistaken, but after a second look, the words couple sneakers and a feast for the eyes were undeniably there—phrases that felt completely alien to her.

Intrigued, she opened the post. Inside was a photo from the launch event, along with several other candid shots—clearly taken without their knowledge, yet strikingly clear.

Cheng Wanyu and Fu Xia wore the same pair of Dare sneakers. Both dressed low-key, they stood unusually close when side by side, occasionally exchanging glances. Fu Xia seemed a little nervous, but it’s clear Cheng Wanyu adored Xiaxia’s little expressions—standing beside her, she smiled brighter than usual!

Unable to resist, Fu Xia scrolled through the comments.

“Yes, yes! Our Wanyu is so doting on Xiaxia! Even keeping it low-key can’t hide the love—wearing the same shoes is just too flirty!”

“And from what I heard, they were originally supposed to stand on opposite sides of the director, but somehow ended up next to each other!”

“AHHHHH IT’S SO SWEET! Wanyu must’ve pulled Xiaxia over because she didn’t want to be apart!”

“The way Wanyu looks at Xiaxia is different—like there’s light in her eyes. Is this what love does to a woman?!”

“Mom, this ship is too sweet!!!”

“It’s definitely love! Those outsiders who don’t understand romance just can’t see it—this is the pure, bashful kind of affection!”

“Wuwuwu I need to write fanfic! I must immortalize this sweet moment!”

“Hurry up and write, author! I’ll fan you while you work!”

“Hurry up and write, author! I’ll give you a back rub!”

“Hurry up and write, author! I’ve already taken my pants off—just waiting for your steamy fic!”

…

After reading all the comments, Fusha couldn’t help but wonder why she and Chengyu, who had absolutely no connection, would have CP fans?

As she scrolled to the bottom of the comments, she couldn’t help but think—how harmonious these comments were. Not a single one insulted her.

Everyone was kind and considerate, everyone cared for her, even cherished her.

Wasn’t this exactly the perfect comment section Fusha had always hoped for?