Hi, Wifey! [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 7

The filming of City: Four Small Seasons was progressing steadily, now entering its second week and fully immersed in the scorching summer heat.

July’s sun blazed relentlessly, baking the ground until it burned. The leaves, no longer lush and vibrant, curled up limply as if on the verge of melting. Hot gusts of wind slammed against the glass windows, turning the transparent panes uncomfortably warm.

Today’s shoot took place in a café near an industrial park. The crew had arranged with the café in advance to reserve the space for the entire day, leaving the shop devoid of customers. The café owner brewed coffee for the entire crew before retreating behind the scenes with the staff to watch the filming, finding the experience oddly refreshing.

The small café was packed with crew members. Fu Xia, seeking refuge from the heat, sat in a corner scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing at Cheng Wanyu, who was still filming, before lowering her eyes back to her screen.

Ever since their coincidental late-night snack outing, the two hadn’t exchanged a single word on WeChat. The most recent message was still the 200-yuan red packet Fu Xia had sent Cheng Wanyu—nothing more.

Resting her chin in her hand, Fu Xia stared at the script photos on her phone. She had never been good at memorization, often relying on cue cards to stumble through her lines. Because of her lack of familiarity, her performances came off as stiff and unnatural.

Zhou Wen had previously urged her to put more effort into her acting, and Fu Xia genuinely wanted to try. But her weak delivery and poor facial expressions only highlighted the stark difference between her and Cheng Wanyu over these past two weeks.

If Cheng Wanyu was a fledgling phoenix, then Fu Xia was little more than a wild hen.

Swiping through her phone, Fu Xia twirled a strand of her long hair around her finger while zooming in on the script photos, quietly reciting her lines under her breath.

“Is that your boyfriend? He’s decent looking, but he doesn’t seem like a good guy.” She mumbled robotically, “His hairline’s receding—he’ll probably go bald by middle age. His forehead’s dark, his nose is too big—just bad luck all around. He might look fine now, but mark my words, he’ll end up a balding, washed-up old man with kidney deficiency.”

Scrolling further, she continued in a low voice, “Don’t be so cold to me. We’re roommates, after all. Don’t I have the right to speak up about someone I live with day in and day out?”

“Hmm… then I follow her to the office…” Her slender brows furrowed as she studied the script, scratching her head in frustration. “It’s a long take.”

She hated long takes the most.

Just then, an icy cup of coffee pressed against her forearm, startling her with its chill.

Looking up, she met Cheng Wanyu’s deep-set eyes—eyes she had once mistaken for colored contacts before realizing their natural darkness.

“Memorizing lines?” Cheng Wanyu settled into the booth beside her, sipping her coffee. “I just wrapped my scene, so I have some time to rest.”

Fu Xia accepted the coffee with a quiet thanks. Though two weeks of working together had softened her impression of Cheng Wanyu, she still felt an odd discomfort around her.

“I was reading the script, and it looks like we’ll have to argue later,” Fu Xia said with a laugh, holding her iced coffee as she smiled at Cheng Wanyu. “I think the writer’s dialogue is quite amusing—it almost feels like a group crosstalk performance.”

Cheng Wanyu couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, it is a lighthearted urban comedy, after all.”

Her dark, gleaming eyes swept over Fu Xia as she asked, “How’s your memorization going?”

Fu Xia took a sip of coffee. She had been about to admit she hadn’t gotten it down yet, but under Cheng Wanyu’s probing gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. After over a decade in the industry, admitting she couldn’t even memorize her lines in front of a junior would be downright embarrassing.

“It’s pretty easy,” Fu Xia said instead. “What about you?”

Cheng Wanyu replied, “I remembered it after one read.”

Fu Xia was skeptical. “Then let me test you.”

Cheng Wanyu let out a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling. “Sure, what do you want to quiz me on?”

Initially thinking she was bluffing, Fu Xia randomly picked a few lines to ask—only to find that Cheng Wanyu recited every single one flawlessly. Fu Xia’s eyes instantly lit up in amazement.

Comparison is the thief of joy. Cheng Wanyu could memorize everything at a glance, while Fu Xia struggled daily, glued to her phone for practice. Was this the gap between them?

Lowering her gaze to the script, Fu Xia spotted a particular line and looked up mischievously. “Scene 150—you and your boyfriend get drenched and stuck in a hotel. What did you say when you called me?”

Cheng Wanyu’s lips curved slightly, her deep eyes flickering. “‘I want to explain things to you.'”

Fu Xia prompted, “‘Explain what?'”

Cheng Wanyu continued, “‘I never lie to you, never speak of love’s uncertainty, for my love is deep and serene.'”

Fu Xia blinked, staring at her. “There’s more to it?”

Cheng Wanyu said, “The poem has more.”

Fu Xia sighed. “So it’s from a poem? What’s it called?”

Cheng Wanyu’s gaze darkened as she murmured, “Maybe you should look it up yourself.”

Just as Fu Xia was about to say something else, the café’s side glass door swung open as a group of girls walked in, apparently oblivious to the “Closed for Break” sign outside.

Since Fu Xia and Cheng Wanyu were seated near the entrance, the girls spotted them immediately.

“Cheng Wanyu!” one of them exclaimed excitedly.

Their eyes shone with adoration for Cheng Wanyu—but the moment they landed on Fu Xia, their expressions twisted into blatant surprise and disdain, the shift unmistakable.

Fu Xia’s heart clenched. She knew that look all too well—these were Cheng Wanyu’s “solo fans.”

Under their scrutiny, Fu Xia hunched slightly, trying to make herself smaller—but how much could she shrink when she was sitting right beside Cheng Wanyu?

The girls quickly surrounded the two, yet only asked Cheng Wanyu for autographs, making Fu Xia feel utterly out of place.

One clear-eyed girl hesitated, clutching a notebook. Though she was Cheng Wanyu’s devoted fan, Fu Xia was still a big star—and she couldn’t resist wanting her signature too.

Probably sensing the thoughts of the girl beside her, the loudmouthed girl who had spoken earlier reached out and stopped her from handing the autograph book to Fu Xia. Tipping her chin up, she looked at Fu Xia and said, “Who is this? Yuanyuan, have you never seen a celebrity before? Why would you ask for just anyone’s autograph?”

Fu Xia remained silent. She glanced at the girl’s outfit—head-to-toe designer labels, with a limited-edition women’s watch on her wrist worth over two million, a rare piece that was nearly impossible to buy.

Given her young age, Fu Xia guessed she was probably some spoiled rich kid. Sure enough, the girl shot Fu Xia a disdainful glare before turning to Cheng Wanyu with an ingratiating smile. “Cheng Wanyu, I’m your fan! I’ve been following you for over a year. Last year for your birthday, I even paid for a light show at the World Trade Plaza. Remember that?”

Whether Cheng Wanyu remembered or not, Fu Xia certainly did. Rumor had it that light show alone had cost three million.

“I remember,” Cheng Wanyu replied calmly, her tone even. “Thank you for your support.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Running into you like this must be fate! Can we exchange WeChat?”

Cheng Wanyu politely declined. “I’m sorry, but we’re working right now. Could you please leave?”

This clearly displeased the little heiress. She shot a glance at Fu Xia, who was shrinking back but still eavesdropping, and huffed. “Fine, no WeChat. But Cheng Wanyu, you really shouldn’t be filming with someone like Fu Xia. She’s just a pretty face—it’ll ruin your career!”

Fu Xia kept her eyes on her phone, saying nothing. From the reflection in the glass wall, she could see one of the other girls already discreetly recording the scene. She couldn’t afford to provoke them—public backlash would tear her apart.

She’d already made headlines multiple times before filming even started. The last thing she needed was to anger Cheng Wanyu’s fans again.

“If the production team is short on funds, they should’ve just asked me!” the heiress boasted. “My family has money. We could’ve found you a better co-star—someone who actually has talent, not just looks. Honestly, if nothing else, I could even step in. Acting opposite, you have always been my dream. You probably didn’t notice, but I’ve actually acted before!”

“I originally wanted to get into the entertainment industry too, but acting is just too hard. My parents didn’t approve—they said it’s unseemly for a girl to be in the spotlight. Unless you make it big, of course. But if you end up like some people, with nothing to offer but a pretty face, wouldn’t that just embarrass the whole family?”

The implication was clear: she thought Fu Xia was nothing but a disgrace.

As the heiress rambled on, Fu Xia felt her heart grow colder. Just as she was about to stand up, Cheng Wanyu rose from her seat, stepping in front of Fu Xia to block the phone’s camera.

“Had enough?” Cheng Wanyu’s expression darkened, her brows furrowed and eyes sharp as she glared at the heiress. “Publicly insulting an artist? I, Cheng Wanyu, do not acknowledge someone like you as my fan. You’re out.”

The heiress gaped in shock. “You—!”

Cheng Wanyu then turned her fierce gaze to the other girl still secretly recording. “Still filming?!”

The girl flinched and quickly hid her phone behind her back.

Cheng Wanyu glared coldly at those people. “Get out. We’re working now. Don’t make me call security.”

The rich young woman probably never expected Cheng Wanyu to be so harsh toward her for Fu Xia’s sake. She had assumed that given the money involved, Cheng Wanyu would treat her differently from other fans. Now, being insulted like this was unbearable. Stamping her foot, she pointed at Cheng Wanyu and said, “Fine! Just you wait!”