Chapter 113: The Performance, Part 3

Miao’s playful charm blended with a poisonous cruelty; Liu Ya’s detached numbness masked a disregard for life; Zhao Ke exuded fashionable confidence; Qin Yao bore a fragile inferiority and timidity… Each smile, each frown, every gesture carried a foreignness, yet it was unmistakably clear what kind of personality the person before the camera was embodying. The performance was seamless, leaving onlookers utterly amazed.

When Song Wan portrayed Qin Yao, no one even noticed her beauty. She was Qin Yao, and Qin Yao was Song Wan — a sensation that bewitched the audience, entrapping them completely.

Such acting prowess was a revelation, especially to those laypeople who had never truly understood what acting meant. For the first time, they comprehended.

Many netizens found it unbelievable that a newcomer who had only debuted a year ago could portray such distinctly different characters with astonishing mastery. Some who knew little of Song Wan couldn’t even tell that all those roles were played by the same person.

“Wow, I don’t know why, but this is just freaking amazing!”

“I just want to ask— that timid, shy woman at the end, who looks just like my little brother and makes me want to punch her whenever I see her… Is that really Song Wan?”

“Totally impressed…”

“After watching that rookie’s audition tape, I finally understand what acting is; after watching Song Wan’s audition tape, I understand what veteran artistry in acting means… My goodness, none of those four roles show any trace of Song Wan’s own personality.”

“My mom asked me why I watched that video kneeling down…”

…

There were also those who eagerly anticipated the yet-to-be-assembled drama crew for “Falling Stars.”

“A toxic production team.”

“Suddenly so excited about this drama—what’s going to happen?”

“Count me in!”

…

No matter which type of fan, no one could bring themselves to say “Song Wan’s acting is terrible” or “Song Wan’s acting is nothing special.” She shattered all doubts with her own strength.

—

Because of a single video, Guo Kai briefly appeared online and became recognized by many netizens as an acting talent—a promising young star. Meanwhile, Song Wan experienced an explosive surge in popularity.

Her Weibo followers, originally close to ten million, seemed to surpass that milestone in the blink of an eye, racing rapidly toward twenty million. At the same time, the film “Dreamscape,” starring Song Wan and set to be released soon, ignited the internet with an unprecedented frenzy.

Qian Fu was not particularly sensitive to the new century’s promotional methods for films, but his publicity assistant was clever.

She seized the moment and quickly announced that Song Wan was a lead actress in “Dreamscape.” Moreover, she promoted it as “a visual feast to once again experience Song Wan’s acting talent,” instantly heightening anticipation for the movie.

This excitement even eclipsed the buzz brought by Hua Yu and Li Yang’s status as the reigning best actress and best actor.

Even though, at first, everyone only regarded Song Wan as a decorative figure in the film, never expecting anything special from her acting.

“Director Qian,” the publicity assistant said excitedly, handing Qian Fu her phone, “Hiring Song Wan to play Liu Ya was really worth it. We saved a huge amount on marketing!”

Qian Fu paused, took the phone, and immediately saw countless trending headlines about Song Wan.

Upon closer inspection, he found many mentions linking the newly acquired director Zhou Qi and the “Falling Stars” drama. Shortly after, he also found numerous posts about “Dreamscape” under Song Wan’s name.

“What’s going on?”

Recently, Qian Fu had been obsessively reviewing the finished cut of “Dreamscape,” worried about any flaws, and the tension before the release had left him little energy to go online. This sudden surge in attention caught him completely off guard.

“You previously gave director Zhou a copy of Miss Song Wan’s audition video, right? Director Zhou released it all, and everyone realized Miss Song Wan’s acting was excellent, which sparked huge interest in all her works,” the assistant explained cautiously, glancing at Qian Fu.

“So I took the opportunity to hire some online boosters to promote ‘Dreamscape.’”

Knowing Qian Fu’s zero tolerance for unscrupulous publicity tactics, she hired reputable boosters and ensured the messages were reasonable. Still, she worried he might disapprove of using boosters at all.

To her surprise, Qian Fu just laughed heartily and said, “That bastard Zhou Qi has actually done something good. I must call and thank him!” Then he stood up to leave.

The assistant was stunned, unable to stop him.

Halfway out, Qian Fu turned back, smiling, “This promotion is because of Song Wan’s acting. I have no problem accepting that.”

The assistant paused, then her eyes lit up, “Can I keep hiring boosters then?”

“Uh…” Was she trying to push her luck?

Qian Fu’s expression grew serious, his eyes narrowing as if pondering a grave matter.

His solemn look frightened the assistant into stammering, “I-I was wrong, Director Qian, I won’t…”

“Hire away! Why not?” Qian Fu laughed again. “Go all out. There’s plenty of money for promotion; spend it all on boosting Song Wan’s acting praise!”

“Ah?” The assistant was bewildered.

“Don’t hold back; use all the online marketing funds to hype how great Song Wan’s acting is…” He paused, then added, “And stick to the contract—boost the main cast with good acting, both male and female leads.”

The assistant quickly grasped Qian Fu’s plan—he intended to ride this wave of popularity to its fullest.

She nodded vigorously, “Got it, Director Qian. I’ll arrange it right away.”

Only then was Qian Fu satisfied. Just as he turned to find Zhou Qi for a celebratory drink, the assistant timidly spoke up, “Director Qian, I have a suggestion…”

“What is it?”

“Since the ‘Falling Stars’ crew ignited the online buzz with actors’ audition videos, why don’t we imitate them?”

“You mean?”

“The main actors in our crew, including some seasoned veterans,” the assistant said meaningfully, “all have pretty good acting skills.”

At least they could easily outshine Han Sen.

Qian Fu rubbed his smooth chin, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “I like that idea.”

As for whether Han Sen would sink deeper into trouble because of this?

Qian Fu gave a rare cold smile. Han Sen had gotten into his crew through connections but caused chaos with his antics. He should have expected this outcome long ago.

After all, karma is relentless.

It’s not that it won’t come—it’s just not time yet.

—

To maximize promotional impact, the “Dreamscape” crew began a hunger marketing campaign—releasing an audition video of a lead actor every half hour, whetting the appetite of netizens.

It was also then that everyone realized the true level of acting skill among these actors.

The performances of the best actress and best actor were naturally beyond doubt; one glance showed their genuine talent.

The veteran actors, hired at great expense, displayed such seamless immersion that viewers felt goosebumps and shivers.

Next came actors with some talent but not enough to astound the audience.

Yet even their audition tapes were enough to utterly outmatch Han Sen, proving they truly had acting skills, though still raw and unpolished.

In stark contrast, Han Sen—the spark that ignited this discussion—became the sole loser.

Netizens mocked him, scorned him, and many openly cursed him.

Many former fans turned indifferent or even hostile; some turned from casual viewers into outright critics because of a single Weibo post he made.

But this was not the worst.

After seeing Han Sen’s post, Qin Fei devised a countermeasure and urged Tang Su to persuade Han Sen to delete the post and apologize. Yet Han Sen, sensing he was being manipulated, refused to listen to Tang Su.

At one point, Han Sen even guessed the entire plan was Qin Fei’s doing and cursed Tang Su out loud.

Tang Su, deeply in love with Han Sen, dared not anger him and could only soothe him gently.

Even though Qin Fei watched nervously, fearing the situation might spiral out of control, neither Han Sen nor Tang Su realized just how serious things had become.

By the time all settled and Han Sen grudgingly agreed to delete the post and apologize, the internet was already in an uproar.

Opening Weibo, the first trending post he saw read:

“No talent but still dare to claim good acting? Han Sen, where’s your face?”