Chapter 982: Guidance from One Who Has Walked the Path

Don’t stare at someone too long—you’ll draw attention.

Bai Xingwei tugged at her lips and whispered a reminder to Luo Quan, who seemed frozen in place.

Earlier, when Tevasol had stared at Luo Quan, she’d scolded him for it; now Luo Quan had learned the bad habits instead of the good ones.

Though Xu Yanqing’s figure was undeniably eye-catching, staring at her like that wasn’t appropriate.

She’d intended to quickly warn Luo Quan not to go too far, and Luo Quan had immediately looked away—but unfortunately, Xu Yanqing had already noticed the burning gaze from the nearby “colleague.”

Xu Yanqing turned her head and swept her gaze over them; Luo Quan lowered her head like a student caught doing something wrong.

She hadn’t felt this kind of nervousness facing a homeroom teacher in years.

Fortunately, Xu Yanqing didn’t seem angry—instead, she curled her lips into a curious smile and approached with a swaying, wave-like stride:

“Little sister, I remember your name is Luo Quan, right?”

Xu Yanqing stepped right up to her, slightly taller than Luo Quan; perhaps she misjudged the distance, nearly giving Luo Quan a face wash.

“Miss Xu, hello. My name is Luo Quan.” Luo Quan stepped back two paces, avoiding the chance of being photographed out of alignment by paparazzi eager to fabricate scandalous images.

“Sorry, I seem to have gotten too close.”

Xu Yanqing understood the meaning behind Luo Quan’s retreat and smiled faintly: “I don’t know why, but I feel an instant connection with you—so much so that I almost forgot you’re not from Huan Yu.”

Luo Quan replied politely: “Haha, meeting is fate. This is my first time on such a stage—I still have much to learn from Miss Xu.”

“Don’t learn from me,” Xu Yanqing shook her head lightly. “In this circle, you have to figure things out yourself—because you never know if those who pretend to care about you are secretly planning to use you.”

“Just like now—how do you know I didn’t come over with some hidden agenda?”

“The fact that you said that makes you worthy of my trust.” Luo Quan’s gaze was firm, as if she firmly believed in her own judgment—or rather, the system’s.

So far, the system had never made a mistake in judging people, so Luo Quan trusted it unconditionally.

Upon hearing this, Xu Yanqing raised an eyebrow slightly: “Little sister, your personality like this will get you hurt badly.”

“How about I give you a good path? Join my company—I’ll protect you from now on?”

If someone else had said this, Luo Quan might have doubted whether they could even protect her.

But with Xu Yanqing, no extra thought was needed—she was simply too big.

A dark joke flashed through Luo Quan’s mind; she lifted her head and said seriously: “You might not believe me, but this is exactly what I wanted to say to you—if you’re willing, you can join my company now, and anytime in the future.”

At these words, not only did Xu Yanqing look stunned, but Bai Xingwei also widened her eyes in shock—she hadn’t heard Luo Quan had ever founded a company.

After a brief moment of surprise, Xu Yanqing burst into a laugh like tinkling silver bells, her entire snowy form trembling with it—the visual effect was explosive.

“I don’t mean to look down on you at all.”

Xu Yanqing suppressed her laughter and spoke to Luo Quan with equal seriousness:

“But I want to know—on what grounds do you think you can sign me? From the most practical perspective: what salary do you offer? What’s your future development plan? How will you handle my existing contracts with my current company?”

“These are real, vital financial issues—not to mention the status gap: why would I leave my current position as a top boss to become your subordinate?”

Xu Yanqing’s rapid-fire questions were all spot-on.

Honestly, Luo Quan hadn’t thought this through at first—but given her current strength and status, any answer would just be empty promises, so she decided to improvise on the spot and make the pie even bigger:

“I’m confident I’ll become the most popular female star in Huan Yu’s future, and my company will be the most successful entertainment enterprise in Huan Yu.”

“If you join, you’ll be an original shareholder—your future status will definitely surpass your current position.”

“Of course, you’ll think I’m dreaming—but that’s fine. I’ll prove to you soon that I have the strength to make it happen.”

Luo Quan had roughly familiarized herself with the basic information of Huan Yu’s entertainment circle.

The so-called top ten beauties were praised for both looks and talent, but in truth, looks were the main focus—talent was just an add-on.

These ten might indeed be the most beautiful, but not necessarily the most popular or highest in popularity.

Most of these Huan Yu female stars primarily relied on “pleasing with looks,” using their beauty and figures as their selling point to generate heat.

The real big stars in the entertainment circle were those who could generate spirit-shadows through acting or spirit-songs through singing.

These were the true masters, the artists revered and adored by the public.

As for them, fame came from their faces alone—and once fans grew tired, they’d quickly move on to new favorites.

There weren’t many true beauties in Huan Yu—only ten reached Level Nine.

But they weren’t few either, because countless Level Seven and Eight beauties were waiting to rise.

Even if they were surgically enhanced, it didn’t matter—achieving Level Nine through surgery itself meant a kind of “entry into the Dao,” and anything that entered the Dao deserved respect.

Naturally, there were differences in treatment between natural and artificial beauty.

But if those Level Seven or Eight beauties truly encountered such an opportunity, most wouldn’t hesitate.

Xu Yanqing herself was natural, but in terms of looks and figure, she had already reached her peak.

Whether in acting or musical instrument performance, she had studied hard and consulted many masters—but in the end, she remained stuck at a mediocre level.

Unless she encountered a monumental opportunity, her status in the entertainment circle would remain as it was: above second-tier, but not quite first-tier.

Don’t mistake a large fanbase and loud cheers for real popularity—these are all illusions; to the true creators of culture and entertainment, they mean nothing.

If a true top-tier star arrived, there wouldn’t be so many fans on-site—they’d all make way for the executives.

The response a top-tier star received wouldn’t be cheers or shouts, but the respectful removal of hats from those in power.

That’s the difference.

Xu Yanqing had dreamed of becoming such a star for years—but the dream still felt impossibly distant.

She didn’t know if Luo Quan was at that level, but she wasn’t desperate enough to grasp at straws.

“Save it, little sister. I’ve seen too many of you—beautiful girls with sky-high ambitions, one after another, all claiming they’ll reach the very peak.”

Xu Yanqing looked up at the towering entertainment building, its floors vanishing into the clouds, and gave a self-deprecating smile: “But very few have kept their original heart—and even fewer still, such a vague, ethereal wish.”

“Do you see this building? Do you know how many floors it has?”

Luo Quan scanned it with the system and answered instantly: “Ten thousand and seventy-seven.”

“Correct.” Xu Yanqing nodded lightly. “This is the largest entertainment production center in Huan Yu—nearly four floors’ worth of programs are produced and broadcast here. Each floor represents a realm. Almost every star strives endlessly to climb upward.”

You’re lucky—you entered the industry with the chance to reach above ten thousand floors. This opportunity has made countless others envious to the point of grinding their teeth.

But unfortunately, this might be your lifetime peak—you may never again enter the world above eight thousand floors… Wait, I remember you once generated a spirit-shadow while singing—that means nine thousand floors.”

Compared to ordinary beauties, your talent is better—you might even surpass me someday.

But for now, first surpass me in looks.”

This was the first time since her debut that Luo Quan had heard someone say with such confidence, “Surpass me in looks.”

On Earth, she’d be mocked by countless netizens.

But it wasn’t ridicule—because Xu Yanqing’s looks were genuinely exceptional, and she possessed an unparalleled weapon.

In the current state, Xu Yanqing was fully entitled to say this to Luo Quan.

And Luo Quan felt no anger at all from these words: “I know my grand words carry no weight now—but as I said, I’ll prove it.”

That determined gaze, for a moment, made Xu Yanqing see her younger self.

Back then, she too had been full of ambition, believing effort would bring reward—now, it was laughable.

But without effort, success was impossible—so she admired Luo Quan’s spirit, hoping she wouldn’t be crushed too quickly by reality.

“Then I wish you success in signing me. Let’s go.”

Xu Yanqing turned away with a graceful motion, but Luo Quan stayed put and asked: “Where to?”

“Floor ten thousand and thirty-two.”

Xu Yanqing knew Luo Quan hadn’t caught on and explained: “We’ve talked this long on our first meeting—it’s better we go up together, so those unscrupulous reporters don’t fabricate fake news that we couldn’t get along.”

Those who have been caught in the rain understand better how to hold an umbrella for others.

Luo Quan’s path had been too smooth—she had little experience in this regard.

Media fabricating fake news for traffic had always existed, but most were low-impact self-media, and they were immediately drowned out by her fans’ backlash—she rarely needed to intervene herself.

So she hadn’t reacted immediately—but now, hearing Xu Yanqing’s explanation, warmth rose in her heart: “Thank you.”

Xu Yanqing’s expression remained calm: “It’s nothing. My heat level has been low lately—walking with you might land us on trending. I can just piggyback on your popularity.”

“You still need heat? Logically, you should be more popular than me.” Luo Quan asked as she walked toward the elevator.

“There are two kinds of popularity in the entertainment circle. One is constant offers, constant exposure—everyone wants to be associated with you.”

Xu Yanqing stepped into the teleportation elevator and pressed the destination floor: “The other kind is having solid, powerful works—quiet and unassuming normally, but when needed, they can shock everyone.”

“I once barely touched the threshold of the first kind. At the time, ‘Star Detective’ was airing, and though my role had little screen time, every appearance left a deep impression on viewers—so my popularity was very high, sometimes even surpassing the second and third female leads…”

Listening to Xu Yanqing’s memories, Luo Quan quickly connected the system to the smart optical brain and soon received the relevant information.

‘Star Detective’ was a detective drama with an average rating over 9.0—packed with grotesque, brain-burning, comedic elements, and beautiful women—it appealed to nearly everyone’s taste.

Xu Yanqing portrayed a female forensic expert who worked closely with the main cast; due to her looks and explosive figure, she was voted Best Supporting Actress in the Huan Yu Public Choice Awards.

She gained massive followers thanks to this drama and remained popular for a long time.

Unfortunately, ‘Star Detective’ ended after only ten seasons, and Xu Yanqing’s sudden fame faded as the show’s iconic characters disappeared.

Since then, offers hadn’t been lacking—but she accepted very few, and nothing she produced ever replicated the brilliance of ‘Star Detective.’

But a dying camel is still bigger than a horse—just ‘Star Detective’ alone was enough to sustain her for life, even though she played only a supporting role.

Notably, many fans believed she performed even better than the show’s female lead—making her failure to remain famous all the more puzzling.

The exact reason probably only Xu Yanqing knew—but her current situation was indeed stuck between rising and falling.

“So why did you suddenly enter semi-retirement? Quitting at your peak doesn’t seem wise.” Luo Quan asked curiously, though her mind had already guessed the answer.

A female star with this kind of looks and figure—no one would believe she’d never faced demands of the underground rules.

But Xu Yanqing’s answer differed from what Luo Quan expected: “Simply because my standards are too high. After ‘Star Detective’ became famous, many hot and promising dramas wanted me for supporting roles—even lead roles.”

“But after reading the scripts, I found these roles were either decorative or deliberately sexualized—some even more explicit than what I did in ‘Star Detective.’”

“I wanted to climb higher, so I turned them down.”

“But when I submitted resumes for serious dramas, they said my image didn’t suit female leads—and there were no suitable roles at all.”

Thinking about it, none of the leading actresses on Huan Yu Star had my build; casual netizens might like this type of actress, but directors and judges would surely dislike it.

So, I wasted my most precious developmental years stuck in this awkward limbo.

Now that I think about it, if I’d known it would turn out this way, I might as well have fully embraced being a decorative piece selling my body— at least I could’ve earned the title of a legendary beauty star.