Chapter 14: You

As for the reward…

Just keep smiling awkwardly.

The script “Don’t Talk to Strangers” was indeed excellent, and it made Feng Yuanzheng famous.

But he probably already regrets becoming famous this way.

And that ten thousand yuan.

Saying “I wouldn’t even bother picking up ten thousand yuan because the time spent bending over could earn me more” is pure bragging.

But Qi Hao earns about five million yuan per endorsement.

Ten thousand yuan certainly doesn’t qualify as his “startup capital” as a movie emperor.

However, this reward made him realize something.

That is, task rewards aren’t always just two things—attributes plus script—and there might be other things too.

Like money.

As for how the money would be delivered, Qi Hao asked the system, which replied it would transfer the sum into Qi Hao’s personal assets through proper and legitimate channels.

In short, it would land in his bank account.

Spend it boldly!

Then there was the training NPC granted by this task—those three options were a pity.

Qi Hao was tied up by Xiang Zuo and couldn’t get close to the veteran actors.

At the premiere, the veteran actors sat far to the side; Qi Hao was too distant from them, and after the movie ended, they didn’t attend the celebration banquet.

So he didn’t get to network with the veterans—instead, he got Xiang Zuo.

Since the training space NPCs had no connection to real people, Qi Hao had no reason to beat him all night.

As for Fu Jing, though she was decent-looking, Qi Hao wasn’t familiar with her works.

He couldn’t possibly drag her sister into training for a short film.

Fortunately, there was Li Lianjie.

Qi Hao will soon shoot “Immortal Sword 3,” and his character bio seems to be a swordsman, likely involving plenty of action scenes.

Maybe he could catch up with a night of training.

He’d have Hu Ge as co-lead—he certainly didn’t want to be outshined by Hu Ge.

Whether in dramatic or action scenes, he had to crush him completely.

After showering and changing clothes, Qi Hao stepped out, poured himself a glass of warm water, and sipped it as he said:

“I attended a party today and heard something—judge whether it needs PR.”

Though it might sound ridiculous, this kind of thing doesn’t vanish just by pretending it never happened.

“What is it?” Lao Tian grew serious.

They had just left Ziwen; they had to stay alert about everything.

Even if Ziwen was terrible, it was still a legitimate entertainment company.

It had full departments, and any rumor about its artists was followed up by someone.

“Today I met a woman…” Qi Hao found it hard to say.

“You got another gossip rumor going? Holy shit, are you a stud or what?”

Lao Tian was exhausted.

If he weren’t constantly with Qi Hao, he’d suspect the guy had several wives stashed outside.

But if it’s just gossip, it’s fine.

They were already used to it.

“No, at the party today I met someone named Fu Jing—I heard from her…”

“From her mouth? Did you kiss her?”

“Shut the hell up,” Qi Hao rolled his eyes and continued: “She said there’s a rumor in the industry that if you’re linked to me, you’ll easily become famous—basically, I’ve got ‘good fortune for women,’ something like that. Have you ever heard this rumor before?”

“Pfft…” Lao Tian spat out his drink.

Good fortune for men?

Hahaha, oh my god, that’s hilarious.

“Ao Bai, bite him!” Qi Hao angrily ordered the cat to attack.

Ao Bai glanced at them and stayed curled up on his mat.

Qi Hao couldn’t help laughing too.

“This isn’t really a big deal. Some people who’ve been linked to you did become famous, but many others vanished into obscurity—this rumor has zero scientific basis.”

After laughing, Lao Tian shook his head.

If Qi Hao really had this power, he wouldn’t need to slog through films—he could just spread gossip with female stars every day.

He’d be the ultimate “prince charming.”

“What matters isn’t whether it’s true, but whether people believe it—it’s inherently superstitious.”

Qi Hao frowned, thinking of his miserable fate and feeling his life had become bizarrely colorful.

Whether old or young, beautiful or ugly, everyone wanted to stir up gossip with him.

It would seriously mess with his chances of finding a girlfriend.

What girlfriend could tolerate her boyfriend cheating constantly?

Even stepping out to buy a bubble tea, you’d run into half a dozen of your rumored girlfriends.

What’s the point of dating? Just break up already.

“I think it has pros and cons—it’s not really a PR crisis.”

Lao Tian had spent years handling Qi Hao’s gossip issues; he was long used to it.

With this rumor, it’d just mean more gossip.

On the bright side, the rumor doesn’t claim that any male or female star who’s linked to Qi Hao becomes famous quickly.

“Lao Tian, I want to tell you something…” Qi Hao dropped the “good fortune for women” topic and decided to focus on the task first.

“Go ahead, say it fast—I’m going to sleep,” Lao Tian said, though he wasn’t as calm as he appeared.

Their studio was about to launch, and they needed to hire staff across all areas.

If Qi Hao’s “good fortune for women” rumor grew worse, the studio would have to pour massive resources into PR and marketing—or they’d never clean up Qi Hao’s mess.

The advantage of an agency is proper resource allocation.

In contrast, a personal studio inevitably wastes human resources unless it partners with an agency through some form of “affiliation.”

“I want to hire a new agent…” Qi Hao decided to speak bluntly.

“What?” Lao Tian didn’t understand at first.

You already have an agent—why look for a new one?

You already have one—you can’t have two agents—so how do you find a “new” one?

But he quickly realized it and leapt off the sofa, trembling finger pointed at Qi Hao:

“You bastard, Qi Hao, you’re a ruthless one—you’ve been hiding this deeper than anyone!”

Anger, trembling, cold—this was his state.

If he weren’t attached to Ao Bai and hadn’t yet sorted out custody, he’d already bolt out the door.

“Stop, stop, stop—what the hell are you talking about?” Qi Hao rubbed his forehead.

He thought Lao Tian was clearly mentally unwell—he never let anyone finish speaking before jumping into a tantrum.

“You’re firing me? Fine, I’ve slaved away raising you up…”

“Get lost!”

“Now that you’ve grown wings, you want to ditch me—don’t you think you’ve got serious moral problems?”

Lao Tian began straining to think.

Tomorrow, he’d go to the media and expose Qi Hao’s dirt.

Like how he’s not the aloof godlike idol fans imagine—he’s actually a fool who loves to roast people.

That didn’t seem damaging enough.

What else was more explosive?

Damn, why couldn’t he remember anything? Was there really nothing?

It was all his own fault—he’d protected Qi Hao too well.

“Once the studio is set up, you won’t have time to be my agent every day—you’ll need to hire someone new.”

Qi Hao saw this as the only way to complete the task.

Breaking up with Lao Tian was impossible—they’d been through too much together, and he was already used to him.

“Hmm… maybe that makes sense…” Lao Tian’s voice trailed off, but he quickly regained his indignation and shouted: “Why the hell couldn’t you just say it all at once?”

“Did you give me a chance?” Qi Hao wasn’t intimidated.

“Miao!”

“If we ever really part ways,” Lao Tian emphasized, “I mean, if—then I’m taking Ao Bai.”

“Why? Ao Bai is my cat!” Qi Hao laughed in anger.

He’d never met such a brain-dead idiot—when fired, he wasn’t thinking about “N+1” or “2N,” he was plotting to steal his boss’s cat.

“I’ve been feeding Ao Bai, taking him for vaccines, giving him deworming, buying his cat food and canned food…” Lao Tian had ample grounds to claim custody of Ao Bai.

“Heh, you’re the one who took him for his neutering.”

Qi Hao took perverse pleasure in it; judging by this alone, Ao Bai had always sneered at Old Tian, and it was no surprise he wouldn’t follow Old Tian.

Unlike me—I only feel sorry for the kitty.

"Fuck!"

Old Tian carried Ao Bai back inside to sleep.

Qi Hao also returned to begin tonight’s training session with Li Lianjie.

Choosing Li Lianjie as the third option was primarily to train for action scenes, and the works selected were mainly those with intense fight sequences.

Dramatic scenes were not required.

For instance, the showdown in *Fist of Legend* against world lightweight boxing champion Zhou Bili is one of the most iconic moments in action film history.

The system would assist Qi Hao’s movements; otherwise, he had no chance at all of sparring with Li Lianjie.

Looking at the wise-looking “Li Lianjie” before him, Qi Hao couldn’t help but ask two questions:

“Is Li Zhi really that good, that you’d abandon your family and children?”

“Is your foundation really for charity?”

Unfortunately, the training NPC couldn’t answer such questions—he only smiled and said, “You can ask him face-to-face. I think he’ll surely come up with some excuse. And as your training NPC, I think you should show me a bit of respect.”

“Please, Master Li, give me plenty of guidance—but the focus is training me. Can you please not hit me?”

“There are no shortcuts in action training—only hardship and risk. Effort and reward are directly proportional.”

The NPC spread his fingers, then clenched them into a fist and charged at Qi Hao.

That night, Qi Hao…

Got beaten badly.

Because in Li Lianjie’s films, even when he gets punched around early on, he always turns the tide in the end, smashing the villains into howling submission.

And Qi Hao played the villain.

Fortunately, over the years, those who had sparred with Li Lianjie were mostly masters from every school and sect; while taking beatings, Qi Hao gained a great deal.

He felt he could now star in an action film.