Chapter 114: The Sweep, Part 04

With the production team of "Dream of Glamour" acting as the driving force, the online praise for Song Wan's acting skills showed no signs of fading.

In particular, once netizens realized that among the younger generation, only Song Wan could stand shoulder to shoulder with—or even slightly surpass—established award-winning actors and actresses, the acclaim reached its absolute peak.

The public may not know the technical metrics of acting, but they have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to feel. Did they truly know whose acting was objectively "better"? Not really. But they could clearly perceive the difference in who felt more authentic and who resonated more deeply with them. After all, acting is a delicate craft; the slightest flaw can feel awkward and instantly pull an audience out of the experience. Therefore, if an actor can successfully immerse everyone in the story, who else could be considered better?

Song Wan's original fans were flushed with excitement over this sudden surge of recognition. They transformed into an unofficial grassroots promotion team, fervently recommending her work to everyone. For fans, there is nothing more joyful than seeing their idol receive such accolades. This sense of pride easily strengthened their cohesion; they began to trend hashtags, send gifts, boost engagement metrics, and carefully curate her public image.

Song Wan’s latest Weibo post reached a new high: 565,234 likes, 389,547 reposts, 348,965 comments, and 486,752 shares.

"I think we could apply for a Guinness World Record with this post, don't you think, Gao?" Song Wan stared at the numbers on her screen, completely bewildered.

What was most astonishing was that these figures continued to climb at an unimaginable speed. Even Gao Xiang was taken aback by the sheer scale of the craze. After all, their initial goal in releasing the video had merely been to slap Han Sen in the face, deflate his ego, and preemptively silence any doubts regarding Song Wan's talent.

Gao Xiang laughed and chided her: "Applying for Guinness with barely four hundred thousand reposts? Don't be silly. These numbers are still a long way off from a real record." She knew that while the current record holder for the most-reposted social media entry was in Kyushu, the count had been over a million at the time of application, and it had only grown in the years since. Thirty-eight thousand was nowhere near enough.

Song Wan was brought back to reality and chuckled, "I was just joking, of course I wouldn't actually apply." Firstly, she didn't find the Guinness record particularly special; secondly, she had enough self-awareness to know she wouldn't qualify. "I just wanted to express my internal 'holy crap,'" Song Wan said with a smile, though the bluntness of the exclamation caught Gao Xiang off guard.

Gao Xiang stared at her in disbelief. Song Wan wiped her face and continued, "I just wanted to convey my shock and excitement. These numbers... even if they don't match the actual record-holding post, aren't they just a bit too exaggerated?"

"I never knew that being a 'skilled actor' could be such an effective persona for attracting fans," Gao Xiang remarked, feeling somewhat lost. When they had first mapped out their strategy, they never imagined Song Wan would reap such massive benefits from this confrontation. Usually, the personas that drew fans were things like the "innocent girl," the "foodie," the "tomboy," or the "tech-obsessed teen." When did "serious actor" become a fan-magnet?

Regardless, Gao Xiang smelled a business opportunity. Unlike the "innocent girl" or "foodie" tropes, the "skilled actor" label carried inherent prestige. It was the polar opposite of a "relatable" persona, yet it would be immensely beneficial for the path Song Wan needed to take. Considering Song Wan's personality, Gao Xiang felt this label was a perfect fit.

"It’s time to lean into the 'aloof, high-caliber actor' persona," Gao Xiang said, looking at Song Wan with a smile, though there was a trace of irony in her eyes that made Song Wan feel uneasy.

Song Wan slumped in her lounge chair, looking puzzled. "Isn't good acting supposed to be the most basic requirement for an actor? When did meeting the bare minimum of a job description become a selling point for fans?"

Gao Xiang, having moved past her initial confusion, analyzed the situation quickly. "Because the market is flooded with trashy films that rely purely on looks. At first, audiences found it fresh to see their favorite celebrities in these traffic-driven movies, but over time, they’ve grown weary of it. When a beautiful woman who can actually act appears, she satisfies both their aesthetic requirements and their desire for genuine talent. Naturally, they flock to her."

Gao Xiang sighed, "Though, at the end of the day, we still live in a world where beauty is justice."

"Huh?" Song Wan looked up, puzzled. "Beauty?"

"If you and Guo Kai didn't have the faces of top-tier celebrities, no one would care how good your acting was."

Song Wan was speechless, though she found Gao Xiang’s assessment easier to accept. She opened Weibo. Aside from the "territory" Song Wan had already occupied, the rest of the internet was beginning to show signs of a chaotic frenzy. Gao Xiang wasn't the only one with a keen sense for the industry's shifts; while her status as a top-tier agent allowed her to react first, others were catching on.

Half an hour later, besides the teams for "Stellar" and "Dream of Glamour," a third production team jumped into the fray.

Film "Besties" Official Account: Warmly celebrating the wrap of @Song Wan's scenes in the movie "Besties"! [Flower emojis] [Nine photos attached].

The photos were a collage of Song Wan’s stills from the film—each one stunning, the kind that made people want to save them all. Finally, the team seized the moment to drop a link to Song Wan’s audition video.

Unfortunately, this video had already been seen on the "Stellar" official account and lacked the impact of something new. Desperate for attention, the film's PR team took a bold gamble: they released raw footage of Song Wan’s actual filming. No editing, no soundtrack, no voice-over—just pure, naked performance.

It was more nuanced than her audition, yet equally stripped of external factors, allowing viewers to see her talent at a glance. They chose a scene of intense conflict: a breakup between the two best actors in the film, Sun Xia and Song Wan. The atmosphere was so razor-sharp and suffocating, the tension so palpable, that it felt as if they were tearing each other apart. It was a scene so raw it made one want to scream, a perfect encapsulation of the youth of characters Tan Yao and Zhao Ke—but also, a universal story of loss.

The PR team believed that anyone who clicked that video would be conquered by the acting and would immediately want to buy a ticket. Although Director Zhao’s previous commercial films hadn't performed well at the box office, the PR staffer was convinced this film would finally wash away the director’s reputation for being "bad at commercial cinema."

He hadn't actually asked Director Zhao for permission—in fact, he had argued with the director for a long time to get even this much leeway. But he didn't care. He was a fan of Zhao Qing and had always been frustrated that the director's work wasn't recognized by the public. Even if he were fired, he was determined to put "Besties" in the spotlight.

Driven by this reckless courage, the video spread like a flood, sweeping across the internet with lightning speed. Suddenly, everyone was asking their friends, "Hey, have you heard of the movie 'Besties'?"

When they clicked the official page, fans were delighted to discover it was another film starring Song Wan, and as one of the leads, no less. It was a total surprise. Even if they didn't care about the movie itself, they would click just for Song Wan’s name.