After Transmigrating into the Villain’s Cat, I Dominated the Entertainment Circle

After Transmigrating into the Villain’s Cat, I Dominated the Entertainment Circle – Chapter 100

by Little Panda

Only I Can Call Her Xiao Xiao

Why must you assault my eyes!

Lin Sifei really wanted to shoot back, Then you’d have to get me pregnant first.

However, she didn’t dare.

The look in Luo Ke’s eyes when she brought up the “running away with the baby”¹ trope was truly terrifying.

Suddenly, her body was lifted into the air. Luo Ke picked her up and placed her on her lap. “Stop letting your imagination run wild all day. Still thinking of running away? You want to run off and starve to death?”

As Luo Ke scratched her chin, Lin Sifei couldn’t help but lift her head and narrow her eyes.

She looked at Luo Ke and let out a soft “Meow~.”

I would never starve to death. Turning back into a human and being an actress is very profitable. Even as a cat, I could make a living by being cute.

But she didn’t dare say it. If she did, she’d probably be sent to the little black room.²

“Meow~.” She stretched lazily, reaching out a paw to pull the cat keyboard over. 【How about you give me a kiss? I want to eat something delicious.】

Luo Ke tapped her on the nose. “Even if I kiss you, you won’t dare to eat your fill. You’ll just cry again if you get fat.”

【I’ll exercise!】 Lin Sifei typed furiously on the keyboard.

Luo Ke chuckled. “Then let’s go to the hospital for a follow-up first.”

Lin Sifei nodded.

The doctor gave her a thorough examination. “The recovery is going very well. You’ll need to continue nourishing your body.”

Lin Sifei was so excited she jumped up, wiggling her body, eager to get home.

Luo Ke sighed helplessly and carried her home.

The moment the door closed, Lin Sifei looked up expectantly, her eyelashes lowered slightly.

Luo Ke held her and gently leaned in for a kiss.

A breeze stirred, and Luo Ke knew her Xiao Xiao had turned back. She slowly opened her eyes and saw long eyelashes before her.

Lin Sifei was still holding the pose of asking for a kiss, her toes pointed slightly, her body leaning forward.

Luo Ke’s hands suddenly tightened around her waist. Lin Sifei’s eyes shot open with a pained frown.

She pouted and complained in a low voice, “Why’d you squeeze me? That hurts.”

The words had barely left her lips when Luo Ke’s kiss crashed down on hers, fierce and predatory, conquering every inch.

Lin Sifei was stunned for a second, then her eyes curved into a smile as she wrapped her arms around Luo Ke’s neck.

The thick carpet on the floor cushioned their fall. Luo Ke reached out to protect her head, then lifted her own slightly, her fingertips brushing the corner of Lin Sifei’s eye.

…

After all this time, Lin Sifei had finally made a successful return. Director Luo was practically in tears when he saw her.

“Is your health okay now?”

Lin Sifei smiled and nodded. “The doctor said I still need to pay attention to rest and recovery, but it’s no problem for me to resume filming.”

Only then did Director Luo relax, immediately telling someone to adjust her shooting schedule.

Lin Sifei’s leave of absence had caused many of her scenes to pile up. Fortunately, Luo Ke had proactively covered the losses, so the production team wasn’t in too much of a rush.

Back on set, life fell into a regular rhythm again. Luo Ke would come to pick her up every day after work. The driver got a raise, as he now had to drive to Auntie Wu’s house every day to pick up some nourishing food.

“Is there bone broth today too?” The moment she lifted the lid, a rich aroma wafted out. Lin Sifei’s eyes crinkled with her smile.

She really loved bone broth; it tasted amazing.

“Go wash your hands.” Luo Ke, who had just brought over the bowl and chopsticks, saw at a glance that her eyes were sparkling.

Lin Sifei immediately bounced to the bathroom to wash her hands, then ran back.

The hotel room didn’t have a dining table, only a small coffee table. Luo Ke placed the food on it, and the two of them sat facing each other to eat.

“There’s an interview tomorrow, so we’ll probably wrap up a bit late.”

“An interview?”

Lin Sifei nodded. “To maintain buzz, they’re releasing some behind-the-scenes footage during filming. Just something for everyone to enjoy.”

Luo Ke nodded. “Then I’ll come pick you up later.”

Lin Sifei couldn’t help but smile, but she still said demurely, “I’m not a child anymore. I can get back by myself.”

“Your mouth says one thing, but your heart says another,”³ Luo Ke called her out.

Lin Sifei pouted. “I can get back by myself. I don’t need you to pick me up.”

“Alright, alright.” Luo Ke conceded. “I want to go pick you up.”

The tips of Lin Sifei’s ears turned slightly red as she lifted her eyes to look at her.

The interview was scheduled for the next afternoon. Lang Jingju also came over since he didn’t have class.

The reporters hadn’t prepared many questions, as it was a behind-the-scenes interview and they were mainly there to shoot footage.

The scene they were filming was a performance without physical props⁴ in front of a green screen. It was the part where the male lead is tragically formatted and has no memory of the female lead, but even so, he refuses to harm her. The female lead, facing him, cries her eyes out.

Lin Sifei’s tears fell on command. Her fingers hovered just a tiny distance from Lang Jingju’s arm, as if wanting to touch him but not daring to.

The reporters held their breath and filmed the segment before immediately surrounding the two actors.

“Feifei, can you reveal a little bit about the plot?”

“Of course not.” Lin Sifei dabbed her tears with a tissue, smiling as she answered the reporter’s question.

“Then how about you talk about your feelings on the character?”

“I can’t give any spoilers, so I can’t go into too much detail. This is a sci-fi film, and the female lead is often forced by circumstances,⁵ but it’s not just about that. Director Luo, the screenwriter, and I revised the script many, many times, listened to a lot of feedback, and shot multiple versions. I think I’m personally very satisfied with this film. If it’s relatively successful, it will probably be a film that can stand the test of time.”

“Such high praise from Feifei. What about our Jingju?”

Lang Jingju had a cold expression on his face. “I like this character a lot.”

The reporter continued to hold out the microphone, waiting for him to continue, but after a moment, nothing came. Lang Jingju widened his eyes slightly, trying his best to look puzzled.

The reporter laughed awkwardly. “Looks like that’s all he has to say. As expected of a cool-headed AI.”

The interview was released soon after it ended, with almost no post-production. Lin Sifei glanced at the time. It turned out this interview had been scheduled long ago; it was only because she had been absent that it was delayed again and again. The interview team had rushed to finish filming today and get it out immediately.

Lin Sifei felt a little embarrassed, as if she had interfered with other people’s work.

Not long after the interview appeared, it quickly garnered many comments and shares. Because the film was a joint collaboration between a famous director, a famous screenwriter, and famous actors, everyone had high expectations.

However, troublemakers never rest.

Shortly after the interview was released, Gongbi came out swinging, his words implying that Lin Sifei was acting like a diva⁶ and randomly changing the script. He claimed the script had now been butchered⁷ beyond recognition and advised everyone not to get their hopes up.

This was a serious accusation. No one likes a diva, especially one who messes with the script. There were far too many bad dramas caused by such people. Of course, the most indignant were Gongbi’s own fans.

Lin Sifei had no idea a screenwriter could have so many crazy, brain-dead fans.⁸

【Lin Sifei actually said in the interview that she revised the script with the screenwriter. She sure has a big face.⁹】

【Scene-hog,¹⁰ get out of the entertainment industry!】

Lin Sifei calmly took a sip of water. It was chrysanthemum tea that Luo Ke had specially brewed for her to clear heat and reduce fire.¹¹

She calmly posted a picture of the film’s screenwriter credits. Although a script has a head screenwriter, a production team usually has several. Director Luo, in particular, had been dissatisfied with this script and had invited many excellent screenwriters to revise it.

【Lin SifeiV: Our production has quite a few screenwriters, and every one of them is on set, dedicated and responsible, unlike certain screenwriters who disappear after filming starts. The script revisions were approved by multiple parties and are a lot stronger than before. But talk is cheap;¹² you’ll know when it’s released.】

And just like that, the two main parties officially started their flame war.¹³

Seeing how tough¹⁴ she was being, Lin Sifei’s fans felt their confidence surge and immediately fought back.

The movie hadn’t been released yet, so no one knew if it was good or not. The fighting was still just between the fans, but it did stir up a wave of publicity for the film.

Li Tao was so angry he was about to go bald. He called her specifically to lecture her.

“Did you have to say anything? The moment you say that, you’re confirming that you changed the script, that you added scenes for yourself!”

Lin Sifei thought about it. It seemed that after the revisions, she did indeed have more scenes, and the movie’s runtime had been extended.

She nodded earnestly. “Yeah, I did change the script, and I did add scenes.”

Prompted by his reminder, she went back on Weibo to inform everyone.

【Lin SifeiV: I changed the script, and I added scenes. What’s the problem? The original script wasn’t good, so it can’t be touched?】

Li Tao was still on the phone with her. When his computer screen refreshed, he was so furious he hung up on the spot.

Lin Sifei cupped her face and shrugged indifferently. Li Tao didn’t understand. She had already made an enemy; it didn’t matter what she did now.

The internet completely exploded. Everyone on the production team surely knew by now. The lead actress was openly proclaiming the script was trash, and the screenwriter was firing back that her acting was trash.

But since she had drawn all the fire, no one else on the team was being attacked.

Gongbi was also incensed. He directly revealed that he had previously demanded to have the lead actress replaced, continuing to imply that Lin Sifei had brought capital into the production¹⁵ and used back-door connections¹⁶ to secure the role.

Now Lin Sifei was displeased. For her last film, she had indeed brought capital into the production, but not this time. The only money involved was the compensation Luo Ke paid because of her long leave of absence.

【Lin SifeiV: Show your evidence, or I’ll sue you for defamation. You’ve been spoiled for so long you really think you can cover the sky with one hand.¹⁷ Other actors are afraid of offending screenwriters and not getting roles, but I’m not. I don’t play by your network of unspoken rules.¹⁸ If you don’t have evidence, just wait for the subpoena.】

Her fans waved their flags and cheered, though they also felt a little wistful.

【Other people’s idols need us to boost their rankings and show support, but ever since I started stanning Feifei, I don’t even need to show up for the arguments.】

【The sister upstairs is right. Feifei is so tough, I don’t know what to say besides ‘Go for it!’】

【This must be the thrill of lying down to win.¹⁹】

【After all, Feifei has the looks, the money, and the talent. What more could you ask for?²⁰】

【Heh, is that her money? Just because the sponsor is a woman, she’s not a sponsor?²¹】

【Where did this hater²² come from? So by your logic, anyone who marries a rich person has a sponsor? Besides, Feifei said she and President Luo knew each other long ago. Maybe she’s a baifumei herself.】

【Sure, keep fooling yourselves.²³ Now you’re even fantasizing about her being a baifumei.²⁴ Heh.】

Lin Sifei cradled her chrysanthemum tea and blew out a puff of warm air. In her past life, she really had been a baifumei. Although her parents were unreliable, the money of a second-generation rich kid was real. But here, she was just a helpless little cat.

Just as she was about to clarify her baifumei status, her screen refreshed to show a verified account with the name Luo Ke.

“Hm?” Lin Sifei immediately clicked on it. It really was Luo Ke’s account, officially verified, and they were mutuals.

It wasn’t an imposter account.²⁵ She backed out to see what Luo Ke had commented.

【Luo Ke replied to @Yiersan Cheng: Xiao Xiao and I have been dating for a long time. Acting is her personal hobby. The investment in 《Light》 has already paid back several times over. When you can make money, only a fool wouldn’t invest. As for being a baifumei, Xiao Xiao certainly is, just not as rich as me. You can continue to think of me as her sponsor. I’m very happy to support her.】

Lin Sifei couldn’t help but burst out laughing, replying to Luo Ke with a laughing emoji.

Luo Ke replied with a smile emoji—yes, that one, the smile emoji dripping with sarcasm.

The fans couldn’t help but laugh.

【OMG, President Luo’s use of that emoji is so interesting. Does President Luo really not go online?】

【She does, for our Feifei. Let me just whisper this, President Luo, that emoji means you’re being sarcastic.】

【Am I the only one who noticed what President Luo called her? Xiao Xiao, so cute, I’m going to call her that from now on too.】

Luo Ke frowned at her phone. Seeing the netizen say the smile was sarcastic, she immediately deleted her comment. After deliberating for a long time, she chose one with a heart and sent it to Lin Sifei.

Just after sending it, she saw someone wanted to call Lin Sifei “Xiao Xiao.” Her face darkened.

【Luo Ke replied to Shengri Kuaile: You’re not allowed to call her that. You can just call her Feifei.】

【Ooh, it’s a pet name, so sweet, so sweet.】

【Okay, President Luo, we definitely won’t call her that. I’ll smack anyone who does. So, President Luo, can you post a couple of photos of Feifei? Feifei hasn’t logged on in a long time and there are no new pictures.】

Lin Sifei was someone who liked taking photos, but during filming, she was in front of a camera all day and lost the urge to take any herself. She had completely forgotten about her huge fanbase, and her Weibo had practically grown weeds.²⁶

Luo Ke looked at the fans’ cute requests for photos and mercilessly refused.

Only I get to see Xiao Xiao. You people can just watch the movie and the interviews. You want private photos, too? Insatiably greedy.

She huffed coldly, opened Feixin, and sent a few cat pictures to Lin Sifei.

This was their secret. So many of Xiao Xiao’s secrets were known only to her. Therefore, Xiao Xiao was hers.

Lin Sifei was oblivious to her internal monologue. She just watched as Luo Ke sent a huge pile of ugly cat photos, and she spat out a mouthful of tea.

Wait, what did I do to piss off Luo Ke now? Is she jealous again? If you’re jealous, just say so. Why send ugly photos to assault my eyes?!²⁷

WHY?

Footnotes

A reference to the popular romance novel trope “dài qiú pǎo” (带球跑), where a character gets pregnant and runs away from their partner.
Xiao hei wu (小黑屋), lit. “little black room.” Internet slang for being locked up or punished, similar to being put in “time-out” or grounded.
A direct translation of the chengyu “kǒu shì xīn fēi” (口是心非), meaning to be duplicitous or say something you don’t mean.
Wú shíwù biǎoyǎn (无实物表演), lit. “performance without physical objects.” A term for acting with imaginary props, often against a green screen.
A translation of the chengyu “shēn bù yóu jǐ” (身不由己), which means one’s actions are not one’s own to decide.
Shuǎ dàpái (耍大牌), lit. “play the big card.” Slang for a celebrity being arrogant and making unreasonable demands.
Mó gǎi (魔改), lit. “demonic modification.” Slang for heavily and often poorly altering an original work.
Nǎocán fěn (脑残粉), lit. “brain-dead fans.” A derogatory term for rabid, irrational fans.
Liǎn dà rú pén (脸大如盆), lit. “face as big as a basin.” An idiom meaning to be shameless or have a huge ego.
Jiā xì kā (加戏咖), lit. “add scenes celebrity.” A derogatory term for an actor who uses their influence to get more screen time, often to the story’s detriment.
A concept from Traditional Chinese Medicine. “Fire” (火) is associated with things like inflammation, stress, and irritability, and “cooling” (清热) foods or drinks are believed to restore balance.
A translation of the chengyu “kōng kǒu wú píng” (空口无凭), lit. “empty mouth, no proof.”
Kāi sī (开撕), lit. “start tearing.” Internet slang for starting a fight or flame war online.
Gāng (刚), lit. “hard/rigid.” Slang for being tough, badass, or confrontational without backing down.
Dài zī jìn zǔ (带资进组), lit. “bring capital into the production.” Refers to an actor getting a role by providing funding for the film, or whose casting is a condition of outside investment.
Zǒu hòumén (走后门), lit. “go through the back door.” An idiom for using connections or unfair means to achieve a goal.
A translation of the chengyu “zhī shǒu zhē tiān” (只手遮天), meaning to wield immense power and abuse it to hide the truth.
Qián guīzé (潜规则), lit. “unspoken rules.” A term for the corrupt, unwritten rules of an industry, such as the “casting couch” or exchanging favors for opportunities.
Tǎng yíng (躺赢), lit. “lie down and win.” Internet slang, originating from gaming, for winning effortlessly thanks to powerful teammates or circumstances.
A reference to the meme “yào shénme zìxíngchē” (要什么自行车), lit. “what bicycle do you want?” It means “don’t be greedy, what you have is already great.”
Jīnzhǔ (金主), lit. “gold master.” A term for a financial backer or patron, often with the connotation of being a sugar daddy or sugar mommy.
Hēizi (黑子), lit. “blackie.” Internet slang for an anti-fan or someone who maliciously criticizes a celebrity online.
A reference to the chengyu “zì qī qī rén” (自欺欺人), lit. “deceive oneself and others.”
Báifùměi (白富美), lit. “white, rich, beautiful.” A popular term for the ideal woman: fair-skinned, wealthy, and attractive.
Gāofǎng hào (高仿号), lit. “high-imitation account.” Slang for a fake social media account that closely mimics a real one.
Zhǎng cǎo (长草), lit. “grow grass.” Slang for a social media account being inactive for a long time.
Là yǎnjing (辣眼睛), lit. “spicy eyes.” Internet slang for something that is cringeworthy, ugly, or otherwise painful to look at.

Footnotes

0 Comments