Chapter 021: Flaying

Peeling King V: Today, a strange wind swept through, blowing across the entire Weibo community. Suddenly, all my friends were talking about this overnight sensation—a newcomer who’s beautiful, talented, and perfectly suited to her role. But isn’t it odd? Why is nobody questioning how a rookie landed such a prime part?

Attached to the post is a photo: Song Wan in profile, eyes closed, standing before a greasy, overweight middle-aged man. Even though only his back is visible, his beer belly is unmistakable through the gap in his arm. The man’s hand rests on Song Wan’s waist, his body leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

The lighting is dim, ambiguous, and blurry.

It’s clear the photo was secretly taken in a private room at a hotel.

Although only the man’s back is visible, fans following the “Immortal in the Clouds” production instantly recognized him as the show’s director, Zhou Qi.

Gu Yi, who had been closely tracking Miaoyu news, stared wide-eyed in shock. “How could this be…”

In the editing suite of “Immortal in the Clouds,” Zhou Qi suddenly grabbed a chair and smashed it to the ground with a bang. “Find out who did this!”

Not only Zhou Qi himself but even the PR team was fuming, their faces flushed with anger.

They’d worked for months, watching the show’s popularity steadily rise. Song Wan’s arrival had catapulted the project to new heights. Her portrayal of Miaoyu felt as if the character had stepped out of the novel, delighting the original fans, who eagerly promoted the show. Song Wan’s stunning looks attracted a legion of beauty fans, who recommended her everywhere with near-fanatical devotion.

For a time, news of “Immortal in the Clouds” was everywhere. Even those who didn’t typically watch such dramas tuned in for Song Wan’s beauty.

All potential new fans.

Everything was progressing smoothly; even the most troublesome detractors had quieted down. Then, out of nowhere, this scandal hit like a drumbeat, leaving everyone reeling and bewildered.

“But how did this photo come to light?”

Indeed, how?

Hua Yu turned to Song Wan, probing gently, “This photo is obviously staged…” After years in the industry, if not with a sharp eye, she could at least recognize common camera tricks like forced perspective.

She didn’t believe the photo was genuine, but as for whether there was any real ambiguity between Song Wan and Director Zhou, she couldn’t be sure. After all, in this business, many would sell themselves for a chance to succeed.

Song Wan shrugged, unsurprised. “It was probably taken at my wrap party for ‘Immortal in the Clouds.’”

“You didn’t invite outsiders to the party, did you?” Hua Yu frowned. “The room looks just like the Imperial Capital Grand Hotel,” she observed. Song Wan nodded in confirmation, deepening Hua Yu’s suspicion. “If it was really that hotel, you need ID to get in—paparazzi couldn’t possibly sneak inside.”

Song Wan hesitated. “It definitely wasn’t paparazzi. We didn’t invite anyone else—it was just our crew.”

So, the person who took the photo must have been from the production team.

Qian Fu, who had been quietly sitting by, now grew cold. “Do you know who took it?”

Normally, Qian Fu wouldn’t have cared about such a thing, but one of those involved was his long-time friend, and the other was an actress he quite liked—she’d also played a major role in his own film.

As for the photo? He didn’t believe it for a second.

Never mind that Song Wan was under President Jin’s protection—he also knew Zhou Qi well. Zhou valued his family deeply, and was especially devoted to his wife, treating her as a precious treasure.

Given that, would Zhou Qi really fool around outside?

Now that the news had broken, Song Wan remained calm and could analyze who might have taken the photo, but Zhou Qi was probably beside himself with rage.

—Hmm, he’d likely have to kneel on the remote control at home tonight.

Song Wan hesitated, unsure whether to speak.

Qian Fu grew impatient. “Just say it—if there’s trouble, I’ll take the blame.”

Song Wan couldn’t help but laugh. “Director Qian, what do you take me for? I’m not worried about causing trouble, it’s just…” She paused, then decided to share her suspicion. “I just don’t have any proof. Even if we figure out who it was, we can’t do anything without evidence.”

Qian Fu straightened, his gaze sharp and intimidating. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes. “Chen Yi, or Zhao Meng?”

All the actors in the “Immortal in the Clouds” crew had been selected by him and Zhou Qi; he knew their backgrounds well. Following Song Wan’s reasoning, he immediately guessed these two.

It made sense. “Immortal in the Clouds” was a hot IP, so aside from the leads, the rest of the cast were either promising newcomers or long-suffering extras. For them, this drama was a golden opportunity to rise in the industry.

Maybe not overnight stardom, but at least they’d no longer be anonymous.

Naturally, everyone wanted the project to succeed and worried about anything that might jeopardize it.

Only Chen Yi and Zhao Meng didn’t need to worry. They were already famous. If the drama became a hit, it’d add to their résumés—great. If it flopped, they’d just take on another big IP project.

At this realization, Qian Fu could no longer sit still. “Song Wan, you know exactly who it is, don’t you?”

Song Wan was straightforward and nodded. “If I’m right, the photo was taken by Zhao Meng. I was just a nobody then—no paparazzi would care about me. I kept to myself in the crew and didn’t offend anyone.”

She paused. “Except Zhao Meng, who disliked me from day one.”

Clearly, the photo had been sitting unused during all the previous promotions, but as soon as Song Wan became popular, it was released. Anyone could see who was being targeted.

Scandals like these—directors never face even a fraction of the backlash the actress does.

“Besides, Director Zhou and I were never closer than a meter apart during the entire party—except at the very end, when he asked me to stay back for a moment and I stood by his side,” Song Wan said with certainty. “That’s when the photo was taken.”

Hua Yu now recognized the setting too. “I’ve been in that suite. Judging by the photo’s angle, the shot was taken from the doorway.”

“Exactly,” Song Wan agreed, even more certain. “Director Zhou and I were the last to leave because we had other business, but aside from us, only Zhao Meng—drunk—and her assistant were left at the end.”

Qian Fu turned the photo over and over. “There’s no one else in the shot.”

Song Wan nodded.

What more needed saying? Qian Fu immediately pulled out his phone and called Zhou Qi. “Zhou Qi, the one who took the photo was Zhao Meng!”

“Zhao Meng?” Zhou Qi was furious but still dubious. “How do you know?”

They’d spent ages narrowing it down to someone in the crew, but Qian Fu wasn’t even part of the production—how could he know?

“Song Wan told me.” Qian Fu relayed their analysis, unable to resist teasing him, “I knew you’d be too rattled to remember. Better hurry home tonight and beg your wife for forgiveness!”

He hung up at once.

Yet Qian Fu’s expression was grim.

Song Wan rubbed her temple. “Director Qian, I want to go out for a bit.”

Qian Fu frowned. “At a time like this? Isn’t there enough chaos already?”

Hua Yu was also worried, though her concern was for Song Wan’s safety. “There might be paparazzi swarming outside the set. You’d be walking right into their net, and you don’t have an agent or assistant with you—it’d be easy to get hurt in a scuffle.”

Qian Fu sighed, realizing he’d just taken his anger out on her. “Song Wan, I’m sorry about my tone earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But you really shouldn’t go out now—it could cause a scene.”

But Song Wan was firm. “I want to find President Jin.” She sounded a bit lost, but still wanted to try. “I want to see if I can ask him to get the surveillance footage from that night. If he’s willing, this can all be resolved easily.”

Because the hotel, wary of guests engaging in illicit activities, had cameras in almost every suite and corner except for the bedrooms.

Even if they couldn’t punish Zhao Meng, at least Song Wan’s own name could be cleared.

Otherwise, this kind of rumor—hard to explain, and doubted even if she did—could become a stain she’d never wash away.

Both Hua Yu and Qian Fu knew how damaging such scandals could be for an actress—Hua Yu most of all. But…

“Are you sure President Jin will give you the footage?”

Song Wan sighed. “I’m not sure.”

Qian Fu frowned, but Song Wan cut him off. “But I have to try. President Jin is a good person.”

“And since when am I a good person?”

Startled, Song Wan turned to see Jin Youqian standing in the doorway.

Knock, knock, knock—he rapped casually on the door. “May I come in?”

Qian Fu jumped up, surprised. “Of course, President Jin, please come in!” Hua Yu quickly brought over a chair and set it beside Song Wan. “Please, have a seat!”

Jin Youqian sat down without ceremony.

Song Wan was still a little dazed. She’d just been thinking about him—how had he appeared so quickly?

“Not happy to see me?” Jin Youqian’s face was stern, but the delight in his eyes was obvious. “Weren’t you just saying you wanted the surveillance tape? Here.”

Song Wan glanced down at the tape he handed her, then looked up at him, unable to hide her joy. She swallowed, half-joking, “President Jin, I can never repay you for this favor. Do you need me to pledge myself to you in gratitude?”