Chapter 23: This Is Pure Extortion (Requesting Monthly Votes)

“What the hell do you mean you’re not close to her? Your rumors are all over the place—go tell people you don’t know her and you’ll be roasted as a scumbag.”

Lao Tian had no idea how to respond to this guy.

“Who am I most recently rumored to be involved with?”

Qi Hao sighed; he and Fan Xuexue hadn’t seen each other once in at least three months.

What rumors?!

“Gao Yuanyuan and An Feng,” Lao Tian chuckled.

“Gao Yuanyuan or An Feng?” Qi Hao frowned.

“Aren’t you online? Go check yourself! Both! They’re both your rumored partners, happy now?”

Lao Tian wasn’t trying to argue with his boss—this rumor nonsense was just insane.

He was the most exhausted agent in the entire entertainment industry.

As soon as Zhan Qi Laiden took over, he dumped all these headaches onto him.

Even Zhan Qi Laiden couldn’t handle it.

“These media outlets and netizens are ridiculous, especially the guys—they’re jealous I’m good-looking, and most of these rumors are fueled by them.”

Qi Hao spoke bitterly.

He had more female fans, spanning a wide age range, but very few male fans.

He’d practically become the public enemy of male netizens.

No matter which female celebrity these guys fanned, they somehow managed to link her to Qi Hao with some ambiguous relationship.

“Actually…” Lao Tian grabbed a tissue, wiped his mouth, and spoke in a strange tone: “Your online reputation has improved slightly lately—I mean, how male netizens see you.”

“Why?” Qi Hao was confused.

“First, in ‘Tian Gou’ and ‘The Promise,’ you played it really manly; second, you went to a bar to sing for a friend, and male netizens think you’re loyal. Plus, lots of people joked about how you got hit by Deng Zhao’s car and gained tons of sympathy… You didn’t plan this whole whitewashing campaign, did you?”

Lao Tian’s eyes were full of suspicion.

The evidence suggested his guess had some basis, but knowing Qi Hao, he also knew Qi Hao wasn’t smart enough for such a scheme.

“So… my ‘strategies’ actually worked pretty well?”

Qi Hao’s eyes lit up instantly.

He’d thought doing system tasks would wreck his image, but apparently there was a bonus.

First, Zi Wen took the blame for him, making female fans pity him.

Then, being too tragic and manly brought him closer to male netizens.

“Get real—you just stumbled on a dead rat!” Lao Tian glanced at Qi Hao’s expression and was certain this wasn’t a plan; he sneered: “If you really want to attend the Capital TV Annual Film & TV Awards, shouldn’t you stay away from Fan Xuexue?”

“She reached out to me. If I didn’t go, fine—but since I’m going, wouldn’t it seem heartless if I didn’t even say hello?”

Qi Hao figured since he had to go anyway, walking the red carpet with Fan Xuexue wasn’t bad.

He’d swear not to pull her dress when he fell.

“Haozi, I’m not joking this time—if you keep acting this way with no boundaries between men and women, when you finally meet the woman you truly love, she’ll get hurt because of this habit…” Lao Tian said seriously.

“But… I don’t have a girlfriend!” Qi Hao wasn’t oblivious.

As an idol star, event organizers would always assign him a red carpet partner.

Better to use someone familiar than a stranger and start a new rumor—people’s enthusiasm for old rumors was far lower than for new ones.

Do you really think I’m stupid?

“Fine, you little rat, you’ve got a lot to learn,” Lao Tian gave up on this guy.

Only when Qi Hao actually experienced it and hit a wall in reality would he understand this advice.

The first Beijing TV Annual Film & TV Awards was held at the National Grand Theatre.

Part of the red carpet was outdoors, extending indoors.

Outside, security lines were set up, with fans and media behind them; indoors, it was mainly for autographs, photos, and interviews.

January in the capital was cold enough to make you question life, but female stars acted like they didn’t know cold existed, competing to expose more pale skin.

Strip away the makeup, and that skin would probably look bluish-white.

Qi Hao and Fan Xuexue sat together in the luxury waiting car before the red carpet.

Both were shivering.

Fan Xuexue was cold; Qi Hao was excited.

In a moment, he’d become a major shareholder of Penguin—well, at least a small one, worth tens of millions.

“Miss Fan, Mr. Qi, there’s a problem on the red carpet—we have to wait a bit longer!”

Fan Xuexue’s assistant ran over to inform the two in the car.

“Aren’t you cold? Didn’t you stick on any heat pads?” Qi Hao, helpless, resorted to chatting to calm his nerves.

“Heat pads?” Fan Xuexue’s voice trembled.

The car had air conditioning, but they couldn’t turn it up too high—otherwise, stepping outside, they’d risk cramps or spasms and couldn’t stand steady.

A male star and a female star, alone in a car.

If the female star stumbled out and had to lean on the wall just to walk, what would people think?

It wouldn’t look pure at all.

“Heating patches. Hot packs,” Qi Hao realized he’d messed up.

Heat radiators couldn’t be stuck to the body.

“You’re so funny~” Fan Xuexue giggled; chatting did help distract from the cold.

“Hahaha~” Qi Hao felt wronged.

He hadn’t meant to be funny toward Fan Xuexue—it was just a slip of the tongue!

“You’ve been pretty quiet lately, haven’t you?” Fan Xuexue, realizing they’d wait a while, decided to chat.

She’d originally planned to treat Qi Hao to coffee after today’s event.

Now that they had time, they might as well talk.

Coffee at night carried too much implication.

Qi Hao was a suitable person—but suitability didn’t mean they should get together.

After all, Qi Hao was just a young actor.

His career hadn’t even caught up to her status as a top actress.

He couldn’t offer her anything substantial in terms of capital, and a relationship would prevent her from maneuvering freely among powerful circles as she did now.

It was harsh, but unavoidable.

Otherwise, how could a girl even survive in this industry?

“I’ve been busy setting up my studio, and I’ve hit a short gap—I’m entering production next month.”

Qi Hao wanted to shift the topic to studio management, to learn from Fan Xuexue, who’d launched hers back in early last year.

“What about future resources? Any contacts yet?” Fan Xuexue had no interest in discussing studios.

Her studio had powerful backing—no matter what she said, Qi Hao couldn’t replicate it.

“I’m already in talks—probably working with producer Ye Weimin on ‘October Weicheng’…”

Qi Hao’s resources had recently dried up: partly because of setting up his studio, partly because the upcoming Olympics meant far fewer projects than last year.

“Wait, you’re also doing ‘October Weicheng’? Me too!”

Fan Xuexue was pleasantly surprised.

She had some fondness for Qi Hao; saying this on the show was a bit of promotion, but inwardly, she wasn’t resistant.

“That’s great—I’m glad we’ll be working together.”

Qi Hao lightly squeezed her outstretched hand—her fingers were icy cold; he wondered if she suffered from uterine cold.

“I often get resource offers—I’ll send them to you later. If you’re interested, I can introduce you.”

Fan Xuexue wouldn’t date Qi Hao, but collaboration was perfectly fine.

Qi Hao, the Golden Rooster Best Actor, had looks, talent—excellent for collaboration.

“Thank you so much.”

Whether he needed it or not, saying thanks was always safe—but the way this woman looked at him was a bit too intense.

It made Qi Hao… kind of embarrassed.

Luckily, Fan Xuexue’s assistant pulled open the car door, carefully checked her makeup—especially the lipstick—then explained the situation while helping lift her dress so she could step out.

Snow had suddenly started falling, heavier and heavier; the organizers paused the red carpet and hastily erected a temporary canopy above it.

Qi Hao stepped out first, then waited until Fan Xuexue appeared and took her hand to help her down.

Holding hands meant nothing—it was just the gentlemanly etiquette of male stars.

Qi Hao glanced at the ground, deeply disappointed.

Why the hell did you build a canopy?

Without it, I could pretend the snow was too slippery, accidentally slip, and even if I pulled her dress off, no one would think I did it on purpose.

Now, under the canopy, there was only a thin layer of snow.

Far too little to make anyone slip.

If I followed the original plan, Capital TV would end up taking the blame for my fall, just like Zi Wen did.

Too shady!

They didn’t even have a grudge against you—they invited you to the event.

This is outright hooliganism.

Beside him, Fan Xuexue shrank back slightly, but quickly straightened her chest.

The female star is on the move!

Qi Hao had been in the industry for ten years and knew exactly where to look and where not to look—otherwise, he’d easily be caught in a socially embarrassing angle.

After walking a few steps, the two stopped.

Fans on both sides, covered in snow, shouted for them to stop and take photos.

There were Fan Xuexue’s fans and Qi Hao’s fans; these days, all fans were a bit deranged, and those who still refused to leave in such heavy snow were even more so.

Fan Xuexue glanced at Qi Hao, and both halted.

They stepped slightly apart to let fans and media take pictures—flash after flash—then continued walking.

Fan Xuexue even reached out her hand for Qi Hao to keep holding.

For a female star to be this forward, if Qi Hao ignored it, today’s media would have tomorrow’s headlines.

But holding hands makes it hard to fall.

If Fan Xuexue suddenly yanked him back, Tencent’s stock price would take off.

If the first fall failed, trying again would raise too much suspicion.

Capital Television would hate him forever.

Moreover, as a man in his twenties who regularly worked out and had good physical stamina, faking a fall was genuinely exhausting mentally.

With the red carpet now more than halfway done, and the indoor corridor looming ahead, Qi Hao decided to go for it.

It’s about time.

Let’s fall right here!