Chapter 11: Lu Hui Can Punch Ten People at Once

Lu Hui didn’t pay the news any mind. When she got home, she took a hot bath. Before she was even out of the bathroom, the internet was already in chaos again.

A random gossip blogger suddenly posted: “Anonymous socialite tip—there’s gossip from the Cen family banquet. Lu Hui is really about to become the president’s wife of AS Group.”

This kind of bedroom-floor-level gossip was so sloppy and absurd, anyone would laugh. The snarky comments were endless.

“I bet this ‘anonymous’ source is Lu Hui herself.”

“Lu Hui’s really committed. Even in this state, she’s still trying to hype herself up.”

“They even have a CP fanbase now. I accidentally saw a Mary Sue fanfic about Lu Hui and President Xie just now. I cringed so hard I dug myself a Disneyland.”

“I laughed till the sky collapsed and dropped a golden hammer. Y’all are so cruel—can’t you let the girl dream, LOL.”

Her manager, Lin Tong, was surfing the net with the speed of an 8G network, trying her best to stay calm.

She closed her eyes, covered her ears, and pretended to see nothing. Let the netizens mock her—getting mocked wouldn’t kill her.

Lin Tong had been idle at home lately, bored to death, and shared every little drama with Lu Hui.

On WeChat, she got straight to the point:
[You’re being dragged again.]

Lu Hui was still soaking in the tub, her flushed face surrounded by steam. She lowered her gaze and tapped the screen:
[Excuse me, is there ever a day I’m not being dragged?]

Lin Tong thought seriously:
[Sorry, actually… no.]

Lu Hui:
[Lemme go take a look.]

She quickly opened the homepage link Lin Tong sent. She scrolled through each comment without any visible emotion, muttered “boring” to herself, and logged off again.

True couch potato Lu Hui and her equally hopeless manager Lin Tong had completely given up resisting the hate. Lu Hui had once considered fighting back against the smear campaigns, but upon learning that deleting a single hate post could cost tens of thousands, she immediately dropped the idea.

They could curse her all they wanted—but she wasn’t spending a dime.

These two thick-skinned folks went about their lives as usual, totally unfazed. Lu Hui slathered a thick layer of night cream on her face and fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed.

Originally, this sketchy little news piece didn’t gain much traction on Weibo. But in the middle of the night, the official AS Group social media account suddenly reposted it—as if silently confirming it—and instantly launched it to the top of the trending list.

Xie Ran broke precedent and accepted a phone interview from an entertainment media outlet. During the call, he personally confirmed Lu Hui’s identity and stated that the previous announcement had been a mistake by the company staff.

“She’s the only one I love.” That was the final sentence Xie Ran said in the interview.

The reporter on the other end of the line was stunned. A heartfelt confession like this hadn’t been seen in years.

After the interview, the reporter stayed late at the brightly lit office building to work overtime. While typing the article, she chatted idly with a colleague. “What’s Lu Hui’s background anyway?”

The colleague hadn’t paid much attention to Lu Hui. “I don’t really know. Just that she’s an unpopular actress with a not-so-great reputation.”

Once the article was finished, the reporter immediately posted it on the platform’s account. She glanced down at the bottom-right corner of her screen—it was nearly midnight.

Stretching, she said, “President Xie’s voice on the phone today was almost too gentle. But I checked out Lu Hui’s photos—she really is a stunning beauty.”

She had met Xie Ran before, and her impression of him was cold and stern, without a hint of warmth, like the coldest autumn rain that soaks you to the bone and makes you shiver uncontrollably. Completely unlike tonight, where tenderness overflowed from his voice as he spoke the most heartfelt words to his lover.

As soon as the exclusive interview article was released, it shot to the trending topics.

Lu Hui and Xie Ran’s names appeared side by side. Less than three hours after the initial gossip, it was confirmed straight from the source’s mouth.

Those who had mocked Lu Hui earlier were now thoroughly embarrassed.

Whether they wanted to believe it or not, the audio made it clear—it was unquestionably AS’s controlling shareholder, Xie Ran himself. The notoriously unapproachable President Xie had actually bent the knee.

When Lu Hui found out she’d been labeled Xie Ran’s fiancée, she rushed to clarify, “That’s not me! I didn’t say that! Don’t spread nonsense and drag me into this—what an insulting way to insult someone!”

“I never thought the wild gossip under the bed was actually real. Is President Xie chasing after his wife?”

“Miss Lu actually turned down the role of AS President’s wife? What a badass—she’s got my respect. I’m a fan now.”

“So she’s really that blunt and chill, huh? Super adorable.”

Lu Hui had to hear Xie Ran’s sentence too. But she didn’t feel anything—no emotion, no being moved. Men talk prettier than they sing. Whoever believes them is a damn fool.

She had no interest in Xie Ran’s heart, nor did she want any part of his body.

That damn man better stop interrupting her dream of stardom. He should just go find another job now that he’s been laid off.

Lu Hui returned to the set and focused seriously on filming her scenes. But she was a little annoyed—she couldn’t figure out what was up with the male lead, Yu Li. He’d been sticking close to her lately.

Whenever they weren’t shooting, he’d be hanging around near her.

And he insisted on singing with her.

Lu Hui was at her wit’s end. She asked others, “Is Yu Li like this on other sets too?”

The other person shook their head. “No, he’s usually pretty cold and aloof.”

Lu Hui honestly couldn’t tell. Yu Li seemed far from aloof. Sometimes, when he started singing in a high pitch, he’d even turn to her and ask, “Did I go too high?”

Lu Hui nodded. “Yeah, too high.”

Yu Li didn’t treat her like an outsider at all. “Then help me pick the pitch.”

Lu Hui wasn’t a professional singer, but there wasn’t much she didn’t know. During her transmigration missions, she had mastered all eighteen skills—every one of them.

Singing, dancing, acting—child’s play.

In cultivation novels, she could not only fight but also fly through the skies.

Her relationship with Yu Li visibly improved. Their scenes together became effortless—almost always passing in one take.

Yu Li, being the hottest male celebrity at the moment, attracted more and more obsessed fans camping at the filming site.

But the set was tightly controlled, so the stalkers couldn’t get any footage. They quickly shifted to camping at the hotel entrance.

Every day, Yu Li saw the crowd blocking the hotel entrance. He’d keep a cold face, mask and cap tightly in place, silently entering the elevator.

One day, Lu Hui hitched a ride in his van after work and saw the crowd swarming around the revolving door. “What are they doing?”

Driver: “Ugh, those are stalker fans and paid paparazzi. They shove phones in my bro’s face every day—click click click, filming nonstop. Some even livestream and beg for donations. It’s f*cking disgusting.”

Lu Hui nodded. “Oh.”

Didn’t sound like it had anything to do with her.

The driver kept ranting. “A lot of them are CP fans from Yu Li’s last drama. So annoying. Always yelling ‘It’s real! It’s real!’ Last time when the director came back to the hotel with Yu Li, some woman rushed up with a megaphone shouting slogans—you should’ve seen how dark his face got.”

Yu Li’s last show was a massive hit in the xianxia genre. It had a ridiculously large and rabid CP fanbase, and under the female lead’s subtle encouragement, they had stirred up endless drama and jokes.

Lu Hui was sympathetic. “He’s really having a tough time.”

Lu Hui thought as long as she didn’t get off work with Yu Li, she wouldn’t be swarmed or followed.

But in the following days, the stalkers and paparazzi at the hotel entrance grew more aggressive, shamelessly out of control.

It wasn’t just filming anymore—they started livestreaming and spreading false rumors in real time.

Maybe because Lu Hui was beautiful, and perhaps someone had leaked her daily interactions with Yu Li on set, those stalkers weren’t friendly to her. They began deliberately targeting her.

“Only the koi (the other actress) is real!”

“Who do you think you are? Just another random colleague Yu Ge is casually working with!”

“Homewrecker! May lightning strike you down!”

“Stop seducing someone else’s partner on set, you slut!”

Lu Hui felt like she was pitiful now too, struck out of nowhere by this senseless disaster. She couldn’t help but reflect—what gave these people the illusion that she was easy to bully?

After days of being shoved around, Lu Hui finally had enough. She suddenly stopped, eyes dark as night, staring straight at the stalkers still filming her with their phones. Slowly, she rolled up her sleeves and walked toward them step by step.

They felt like a poisonous snake had locked onto them, their backs turning cold as they stumbled backward. “Y-You… What are you doing? What do you want?!”

Lu Hui let out a mocking laugh. “What else do you think I’m doing? Hitting you, of course.”

The girl with messy hair and a face mask froze in place.

Lu Hui looked at her with a gaze full of disdain and sarcasm. “Wearing a mask, huh? So you do know how shameful your actions are.”

“You’re the one who should be ashamed! I’m telling you, the koi CP is real, it’s really real! You’ll never break them up! You’re just a dog Yuli keeps around for fun!”

Lu Hui couldn’t figure out what was wrong with this girl’s brain. Did she hit her head or something? These people must’ve thought she wouldn’t dare fight back—especially with a male streamer present—but seeing no immediate danger, their courage started returning.

Lu Hui raised her hand and slapped the girl hard. The girl’s phone flew out of her hand, slammed into the wall, and hit the floor, its screen shattering neatly into pieces. Lu Hui’s expression was calm. “Try running your mouth again.”

The phone lay in ruins, completely smashed.

That slap of Lu Hui’s had the force of a man’s punch—one of those guys who could take on ten people. Her strength was terrifying.

The girls immediately chickened out and fell silent, scared stiff. The male paparazzo, seeing Lu Hui delaying his chance to make money and noticing she had no bodyguards, rushed forward. “What are you all afraid of? Seriously.”

But before his hand could reach Lu Hui’s face, his wrist was grabbed by the expressionless young woman.

“Ow ow ow ow—!”

Lu Hui had suffered the most in the cultivation world. She had trained both mentally and physically. It had been painful, but it had forged real skills. With just a bit of pressure from her fingers, there was a loud crack—and the man’s arm seemed to dislocate. He fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Lu Hui looked at the terrified group, her voice icy and slow. “Are you still planning to block me again?”

They were already scared senseless and shook their heads in unison.

“Still planning to keep cursing me?”

More frantic head-shaking.

Lu Hui rubbed her hand. “Good. Go home if that’s where you belong, or go back to school. Stop acting like a bunch of rabid dogs out here.”

They could only nod in agreement.

The incident with the sasaeng fans quickly spread throughout the filming crew.

The director had been fed up with these people for a long time but never had a good way to deal with them. He hadn’t expected Lu Hui to be so effective. “How did Lu Hui get rid of those nutjobs?”

“Director, go online and see for yourself.”

The video of Lu Hui tearing into the sasaeng fans had gone viral on Weibo. In the video, she was both fierce and stunning—a beautiful woman losing her temper, delivering cold sarcasm—it gave viewers a satisfying rush.

To everyone’s surprise, Lu Hui was actually being praised.

The entertainment industry hadn’t seen such a gutsy beauty in years. She said she’d hit someone, and she actually hit someone. Judging by her moves, no one doubted she had a black belt in Taekwondo.

That evening, Yu Li angrily posted a statement on Weibo, and his words were brutally blunt:

【Zhi Li and I were merely former coworkers, and we haven’t been in contact since filming ended. As far as I know, Miss Zhi Li has been in a long-term relationship. Stop fantasizing about the CP and acting crazy in front of me.】

The female side’s team had been milking the CP hype and pushing it harder and harder, but Yu Li had endured it for nearly six months. Now, they’d finally crossed his line.

A top-tier celebrity personally breaking up the CP fantasy—even revealing the girl already had a boyfriend—was explosive news.

Most fans were thrilled. Every fandom had had enough of the koi CP fanatics and their lack of boundaries.

“@LuHui, thank you, you’re truly a good person.”

Lu Hui had no idea she’d just been handed a “Good Person” badge. She was curled up in her hotel room, watching the news. Compared to celebrity gossip, she was more interested in the TV station’s real-time coverage of unidentified flying objects.

Some civilians had captured photos of a creature in the sky resembling a kunpeng. The pictures were going viral in WeChat groups and had stirred public panic.

The news station dismissed the photos as Photoshop fakes, but Lu Hui stared at the image of the kunpeng with a speechless expression. If she remembered correctly, in the cultivation novel world, her scumbag ex-fiancé—the one who dug out her heart—had a beloved mount that was… a kunpeng.

Lu Hui collapsed onto the sofa, utterly done with life, a line flashing through her head:

【The entire northwest of Jin has turned into a pot of chaos!】

The world was going off the rails!