Chapter 013: The Early Bird Gets the Worm

Fang Jianyan scrolled through Weibo’s real-time comments—none of them were kind. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and spoke like a disapproving old cadre.

“What does ‘e-m-o jie’ even mean?”

The “emo jie” in question was curled up on a velvet sofa, tapping away on her phone with delicate fingers.

“What’s my name again?” she asked.

“Are you seriously interrogating your own brother?”

She clicked her tongue and looked up from her phone at her uptight brother across from her, quirking a corner of her lips. “I’m not interrogating you. I’m guiding you.”

“Fang Yimeng.” Jianyan’s voice was clear and calm, but his stern face carried a constant air of authority.

Yimeng lifted her chin slightly, prompting him to say her name again.

“Yimeng.”

He said it awkwardly. Their family had always called her “Ah Yi.” Part of it was habit, but it also stemmed from their parents’ love and favoritism. Her birth was a celebration for the entire family.

“Yi” represented being first, and when combined with “Meng” in her name, it felt special. Yi—Yimeng.

“Exactly. Yimeng, emo—see? It sounds the same! There’s a word in English, ‘emo,’ which kind of means… gloomy or depressed, that kind of vibe. You get what I’m saying?”

The more she tried to explain, the more jumbled her explanation became.

Fang Jianyan’s handsome brows furrowed deeply. Just hearing that definition made him uncomfortable.

“Stay out of my industry stuff. I have my own plans,” Yimeng said seriously. She knew her rigid, old-fashioned brother too well—she could tell what he was thinking from just the way his brow moved.

He opened his mouth to reply, but her phone suddenly rang with a WeChat call.

She glanced at the caller ID, clutched her phone to her chest, and sprinted out of the study like a gust of wind.

Jianyan watched his carefree sister leave, removed his glasses with a sigh, and massaged his temples.

—

Back in her room, Yimeng answered the call.

A noisy background filtered through the speaker, followed by a clear male voice.

“Are you awake?”

She cleared her throat silently and replied solemnly, > “The early bird gets the worm. I’ve been up for ages.”

“True. There are worms. So those photos and posts from the PR accounts—was that your idea?” Lu Jingshan’s voice carried a hint of teasing.

The noise in the background lessened, and his low, magnetic voice came through more clearly.

“Yes, it was me. I finally had the chance to drive a wedge between Liao Ran and Li Jinchen. As a clever and villainous supporting character, I had to strike while the iron was hot!”

She sounded proud, placing a hand on her waist like a cartoon heroine.

“This is my villainess awakening. It’s hunting season!”

For a moment, there was silence. Then came Lu Jingshan’s helpless chuckle.

“If you really want to deal with them, why hurt yourself in the process? Miss Fang, next time you plan something, please give me a heads-up. Otherwise, the blowback might hurt our own side too.”

His deep voice was accompanied by the sound of pages flipping in the background—he sounded busy.

Yimeng tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Sorry. I haven’t developed much of a teamwork mindset yet. I’ll give you notice next time.”

Someone as smart as her obviously had considered the risks. The real reason she acted alone was purely personal.

After all, Lu Jingshan was way too friendly with Liao Ran. And sure, flies don’t buzz around flawless eggs…

But she wasn’t the fly!

Lu Jingshan chuckled again.

“Weibo’s public opinion isn’t looking great lately. To manage the narrative, the first episode of The Actor will air early. I’ve already spoken with Director Zheng—he’ll try to edit the footage to polish your image.”

“Tsk. I walk straight and sit upright. I haven’t done anything shady—why would I need editing?” she muttered under her breath.

She forgot she was on the phone—every word carried through clearly.

Lu Jingshan let out a warm laugh.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up now.”

Yimeng frowned. She had to admit, Lu Jingshan’s voice was very appealing—exactly the low, magnetic tone she liked.

But that didn’t mean she wanted to hear him tease her!

—

As Lu predicted, The Actor aired early. There wasn’t even time for the usual promotional hashtags—it just dropped on all major platforms.

That night at dinner, the whole Fang family sat around the table. Yimeng placed her iPad in front of her while eating poached chicken breast salad, watching the first episode unfold.

From the iPad’s speakers came the host’s voice, cueing her first on-screen appearance.

“Ms. Fang, do you have any advice for the newcomers?”

A flood of angry comments flew across the screen:

“EXCUSE ME? Ms. Fang?! What gives her the right to be addressed like that? She bullied people on set and has zero professional ethics!”

“Emo jie’s face could make even Lady Meng Po cry.”

“She’s just a puppet of capital. How much integrity can she possibly have?”

Yimeng laughed at the absurdity.

The scene quickly shifted.

“You’ve often played villainous roles—any thoughts on that?”

“I’m dead. She just admitted she’s like a villain in real life.”

“She’s self-deprecating and smug? What the hell?”

“Help! I kinda like her self-roasting style, but the workplace bullying—no way.”

“Wait, about that bullying accusation—wasn’t the video edited? Isn’t it unfair to judge her based on that alone?”

Yimeng noticed the lone supportive comment floating by and raised a brow—then let out a dismissive snort.

Fang Mother hadn’t seen the footage but, judging from the host’s sharp questioning, she put down her chopsticks in frustration.

“Jianyan! Your sister’s being wronged out there—how can you sit back and do nothing!?”

Jianyan, who had just picked up a rib, looked up. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his cool gaze fell on Yimeng, who was sneering at the screen.

“Ah Yi said if I step in to support her, she’d sever our sibling bond.”

He calmly placed the rib in his bowl and adjusted his glasses.

Fang Mother gasped in disbelief, pointing at her son.

“Fang Jianyan! How can you say something so cold when your body’s still 37°C warm!”

The person in question—Yimeng—grinned wickedly, finished her salad, and snuck away from the battlefield, iPad in hand.