Chapter 5: One More to Be Pissed Off

Even though the video only showed Lu Hui’s side profile, Xie Ran watched it again and again, unwilling to look away.

It wasn’t until after her death that he realized just how much she had meant to him.

His longing surged like a tide—deep and all-consuming. Regret came far too late.

Almost every night, Xie Ran dreamed of Lu Hui crying, clutching her hollowed-out waist, sobbing that it hurt. In the dream, he couldn’t breathe, as if a hand was gripping his throat. He reached out to hold her, but grasped only empty air.

Shutting off the video, Xie Ran called his secretary in, voice sharp and fierce.

The secretary noticed his reddened eyes and the intimidating chill that radiated from him. Shivering, he assumed he must have messed up, and quickly said, “President Xie, the PR department already handled what you asked.”

Xie Ran looked up, eyes bloodshot, chest aching from trying to breathe.
“That’s not it,” he said hoarsely. “I want you to send me all her information.”

The secretary froze. “You mean…?”

“The woman in the video,” Xie Ran bit out.

Though stunned, the secretary hid it well. Though curious, he asked no questions. “Understood.”

Xie Ran then set a deadline, voice cold as ice: “Half an hour. You have thirty minutes. If you fail, go to HR tomorrow and hand in your resignation.”

The secretary had no idea why the CEO suddenly cared so much about a minor actress in a viral video.

If he was angry, he wouldn’t be this personally involved. But there was no time to think—he left the office and informed the rest of the team with a serious expression.

In less than thirty minutes, the secretary handed Xie Ran several sheets of A4 paper, containing everything about Lu Hui. Only then did the sword hanging over his head finally fall away.

—

AS Group’s official statement was released across all platforms at 6 p.m. The headline read “Official Statement,” and it bore the main group’s red seal at the bottom. The entire release strongly condemned users who had spread false rumors about the CEO’s private life and announced legal proceedings.

Once the statement dropped, even more people came to laugh at Lu Hui’s expense.

#FastestBackfire, #EpicFailOfTheYear, #ClingyFlirtCrashesAndBurns—these savage tags were all attached to Lu Hui’s name.

Not just netizens, but people in the industry were also laughing behind her back. WeChat group chats were full of gossip.

One manager, Sister Yue, felt vindicated. “Lu Hui has zero self-awareness. Still irrelevant, but dares to daydream like that.”

Another insider sent a voice message: “I nearly died laughing after my ad meeting when I saw the trending list. Seriously, does she even have a brain? If you’re going to go viral for being controversial, at least be famous first! She’s not even making a splash, just causing drama for no reason. Even if she lands roles, they’ll be wasted on her.”

Sister Yue, in great spirits, added with a laugh, “I wonder if her face stings from that slap.”

Lu Hui truly didn’t feel much of anything. When she saw the clarification statement, she even let out a sigh of relief.

Great! Absolutely great! She’d been scared out of her mind—those uncanny coincidences had almost convinced even herself. Thankfully, this Mr. Xie had stepped forward to clear the air in time, finally allowing her to put her doubts to rest.

As for that male lead who once tried to harvest her kidney, Lu Hui was genuinely traumatized.

Back then, even though she had already reluctantly agreed to donate her kidney to the female lead, she was still forcibly taken to the hospital by the male lead. The ward was completely under his control—guards were stationed around the clock to monitor her every move. She was effectively under house arrest, unable to even step outside her hospital room.

Even the system had once praised her: “You’re amazing, able to endure what no one else could.” Every other task-taker would have given up and fled before reaching that part of the story. Only she made it to the end.

So no matter how much the online commenters criticized her, or how her peers mocked her behind her back, none of it fazed Lu Hui.

While waiting for the production to begin filming, Lu Hui spent her days surfing the web, even screenshotting some of the nastier comments and sending them to Lin Tong with a laugh:
[These netizens are calling me a clout chaser, but they’re actually pretty creative, haha.]

Lin Tong: […]
Lin Tong: That’s not a compliment. They’re insulting you.
Lu Hui: You think I’m afraid of insults now?
Lin Tong: 👍👍👍
Lin Tong: Good. You’ve got the mindset of a future star.

Netizens, judging from the cold jokes and popular short videos Lu Hui was liking on Weibo, concluded her mood hadn’t been affected at all. They had to admit—her mentality was impressive. The world was in chaos, yet she remained untouched. So cool. So badass.

During her idle days at home, Lu Hui took two days to thoroughly study the script. Then, she happily went back to being a carefree, couch-bound slacker.

For a whole week straight, her mother bombarded her with calls.

Finally, Lu Hui had no choice but to answer. Her mother said, “Come home for dinner tonight. Your father’s mentioned you several times.”

“Mom, I’m busy.”

“What could an unemployed drifter possibly be busy with?”

Madam Xu Qin had raised Lu Hui to be a proper socialite and obviously looked down on her current career. She’d voiced her disapproval many times, and now she mocked her without holding back.

Lu Hui stayed silent.

Xu Qin was a forceful woman—she wouldn’t have married into the Sheng family otherwise. She continued, “I know you’ve rented a place. A short lease for three months. That’s about to expire.”

She spoke like she had every detail in hand. “And your card has been frozen for a while now. I doubt you have the money to keep renting a two-bedroom apartment inside the second ring. You’ve made your scene—now it’s time to come home.”

Lu Hui had never realized that Madam Xu Qin actually cared enough about her, the so-called burden, to track her so closely.

This time, Xu Qin was patient with her. “I know you feel like your brother and sister don’t like you, but that’s childish thinking. Lu Hui, you’re an adult now. Acting out like this is just immature.”

Lu Hui responded with a single, snarky word—“Oh.”

Xu Qin tried to coax and pressure her into coming back to the Sheng household that very night.

Lu Hui didn’t say yes or no, but after hanging up, she thought it over. Back when she moved out, it really was because the Sheng family didn’t like her—especially Sheng Zhaoming, who always looked like he’d lost his appetite the moment he saw her.

But now that she gave it some serious thought—moving back in really wouldn’t cost her anything.

Lu Hui had reached a state of detachment. Her return to the Sheng household would only make them miserable—especially Sheng Zhaoming and Sheng Lian.

Saving money and annoying others? Of course Lu Hui was in.

That very evening, she hired a Haolala truck to help her move.

The beat-up pickup truck wheezed its way to the entrance of the upscale villa complex, only to be stopped by the security guard. The truck looked worn-down and dusty. The guard interrogated the driver without mercy.

It wasn’t until Lu Hui stepped out and showed her face that the guard let both the truck and the driver through.

Sheng Zhaoming was home that day. He was jolted awake by the truck’s mechanical noise. In pajamas and with a scowl on his face, he stormed downstairs—only for his expression to turn green the moment he saw the small moving truck. Two tufts of hair stuck up from his head. He was not happy.

Sheng Zhaoming had a pair of sharp phoenix eyes. He glanced at Lu Hui coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Weren’t you so bold just a few days ago? Swore you’d never come back?”

Lu Hui continued directing the movers, having them unload box after box.

Arms crossed, Sheng Zhaoming sneered, “Barely a few days and you’re already crawling back, looking like a mess.”

Lu Hui paid the driver, then turned to look at him with a smile. “So… are you happy to see me back?”

Sheng Zhaoming’s thin lips curled. “Of course not.”

Lu Hui clapped her hands. “Perfect. Your misery brings me joy.”

Sheng Zhaoming couldn’t quite put his finger on what had changed, but something about her was different. She’d never talked to him like this before.

Her eyes used to hold admiration, respect, longing. Now, they were like a moon reflected in still water—cold, detached, distant.

Suppressing his irritation, Sheng Zhaoming couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore.

He knew Lu Hui craved acceptance from the family. She wanted them to welcome her, this outsider. But that—was never going to happen.

No matter how humble or generous she tried to be, he would never be won over.

Back when Lu Hui moved out, he hadn’t believed a word she said. And sure enough, she was still as pathetic as ever.

After tidying up her room, Lu Hui was covered in sweat.

Xu Qin was pleased that her daughter had obediently come back. She still saw Lu Hui as a little bird firmly in her grasp.

That night, the family sat down to dinner together.

Sheng Weicai, the head of the family, neither liked nor disliked his stepdaughter. But he was a man who hated gossip. The idea of his stepdaughter living alone elsewhere just didn’t sound good, so he had her called back.

The Sheng family wasn’t exactly warm to her, but they hadn’t treated her badly either.

Previously, Sheng Weicai had thought Lu Hui was ungrateful. But now that she’d returned, at least she was being sensible.

Lu Hui didn’t eat much at dinner. The dishes the chef prepared didn’t suit her taste, and she didn’t touch her chopsticks. Xu Qin kept shooting her meaningful glances, but Lu Hui ignored them all, irritating her so much her teeth ached.

Lu Hui truly didn’t feel much of anything. When she saw the clarification statement, she even let out a sigh of relief.

Great! Absolutely great! She’d been scared out of her mind—those uncanny coincidences had almost convinced even herself. Thankfully, this Mr. Xie had stepped forward to clear the air in time, finally allowing her to put her doubts to rest.

As for that male lead who once tried to harvest her kidney, Lu Hui was genuinely traumatized.

Back then, even though she had already reluctantly agreed to donate her kidney to the female lead, she was still forcibly taken to the hospital by the male lead. The ward was completely under his control—guards were stationed around the clock to monitor her every move. She was effectively under house arrest, unable to even step outside her hospital room.

Even the system had once praised her: “You’re amazing, able to endure what no one else could.” Every other task-taker would have given up and fled before reaching that part of the story. Only she made it to the end.

So no matter how much the online commenters criticized her, or how her peers mocked her behind her back, none of it fazed Lu Hui.

While waiting for the production to begin filming, Lu Hui spent her days surfing the web, even screenshotting some of the nastier comments and sending them to Lin Tong with a laugh:
[These netizens are calling me a clout chaser, but they’re actually pretty creative, haha.]

Lin Tong: […]
Lin Tong: That’s not a compliment. They’re insulting you.
Lu Hui: You think I’m afraid of insults now?
Lin Tong: 👍👍👍
Lin Tong: Good. You’ve got the mindset of a future star.

Netizens, judging from the cold jokes and popular short videos Lu Hui was liking on Weibo, concluded her mood hadn’t been affected at all. They had to admit—her mentality was impressive. The world was in chaos, yet she remained untouched. So cool. So badass.

During her idle days at home, Lu Hui took two days to thoroughly study the script. Then, she happily went back to being a carefree, couch-bound slacker.

For a whole week straight, her mother bombarded her with calls.

Finally, Lu Hui had no choice but to answer. Her mother said, “Come home for dinner tonight. Your father’s mentioned you several times.”

“Mom, I’m busy.”

“What could an unemployed drifter possibly be busy with?”

Madam Xu Qin had raised Lu Hui to be a proper socialite and obviously looked down on her current career. She’d voiced her disapproval many times, and now she mocked her without holding back.

Lu Hui stayed silent.

Xu Qin was a forceful woman—she wouldn’t have married into the Sheng family otherwise. She continued, “I know you’ve rented a place. A short lease for three months. That’s about to expire.”

She spoke like she had every detail in hand. “And your card has been frozen for a while now. I doubt you have the money to keep renting a two-bedroom apartment inside the second ring. You’ve made your scene—now it’s time to come home.”

Lu Hui had never realized that Madam Xu Qin actually cared enough about her, the so-called burden, to track her so closely.

This time, Xu Qin was patient with her. “I know you feel like your brother and sister don’t like you, but that’s childish thinking. Lu Hui, you’re an adult now. Acting out like this is just immature.”

Lu Hui responded with a single, snarky word—“Oh.”

Xu Qin tried to coax and pressure her into coming back to the Sheng household that very night.

Lu Hui didn’t say yes or no, but after hanging up, she thought it over. Back when she moved out, it really was because the Sheng family didn’t like her—especially Sheng Zhaoming, who always looked like he’d lost his appetite the moment he saw her.

But now that she gave it some serious thought—moving back in really wouldn’t cost her anything.

Lu Hui had reached a state of detachment. Her return to the Sheng household would only make them miserable—especially Sheng Zhaoming and Sheng Lian.

Saving money and annoying others? Of course Lu Hui was in.

That very evening, she hired a Haolala truck to help her move.

The beat-up pickup truck wheezed its way to the entrance of the upscale villa complex, only to be stopped by the security guard. The truck looked worn-down and dusty. The guard interrogated the driver without mercy.

It wasn’t until Lu Hui stepped out and showed her face that the guard let both the truck and the driver through.

Sheng Zhaoming was home that day. He was jolted awake by the truck’s mechanical noise. In pajamas and with a scowl on his face, he stormed downstairs—only for his expression to turn green the moment he saw the small moving truck. Two tufts of hair stuck up from his head. He was not happy.

Sheng Zhaoming had a pair of sharp phoenix eyes. He glanced at Lu Hui coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Weren’t you so bold just a few days ago? Swore you’d never come back?”

Lu Hui continued directing the movers, having them unload box after box.

Arms crossed, Sheng Zhaoming sneered, “Barely a few days and you’re already crawling back, looking like a mess.”

Lu Hui paid the driver, then turned to look at him with a smile. “So… are you happy to see me back?”

Sheng Zhaoming’s thin lips curled. “Of course not.”

Lu Hui clapped her hands. “Perfect. Your misery brings me joy.”

Sheng Zhaoming couldn’t quite put his finger on what had changed, but something about her was different. She’d never talked to him like this before.

Her eyes used to hold admiration, respect, longing. Now, they were like a moon reflected in still water—cold, detached, distant.

Suppressing his irritation, Sheng Zhaoming couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore.

He knew Lu Hui craved acceptance from the family. She wanted them to welcome her, this outsider. But that—was never going to happen.

No matter how humble or generous she tried to be, he would never be won over.

Back when Lu Hui moved out, he hadn’t believed a word she said. And sure enough, she was still as pathetic as ever.

After tidying up her room, Lu Hui was covered in sweat.

Xu Qin was pleased that her daughter had obediently come back. She still saw Lu Hui as a little bird firmly in her grasp.

That night, the family sat down to dinner together.

Sheng Weicai, the head of the family, neither liked nor disliked his stepdaughter. But he was a man who hated gossip. The idea of his stepdaughter living alone elsewhere just didn’t sound good, so he had her called back.

The Sheng family wasn’t exactly warm to her, but they hadn’t treated her badly either.

Previously, Sheng Weicai had thought Lu Hui was ungrateful. But now that she’d returned, at least she was being sensible.

Lu Hui didn’t eat much at dinner. The dishes the chef prepared didn’t suit her taste, and she didn’t touch her chopsticks. Xu Qin kept shooting her meaningful glances, but Lu Hui ignored them all, irritating her so much her teeth ached.

Since Lu Hui was back, she wasn’t going to wrong herself anymore.

After a brush with death, everything else seemed trivial.

She acted like no one else was around as she raided the fridge for a pile of imported snacks, took over the downstairs living room, and watched TV while munching away.

Sheng Zhaoming couldn’t stand her behavior and opened his mouth to tell her to go upstairs.

Lu Hui didn’t move at all. Crunching on her chips, she said, “Brother, you were the one who came to beg me back three times.”

Sheng Zhaoming’s face turned red, then white, feeling like his lungs were about to explode from holding in his rage.

“If you really had any guts, you could’ve chosen not to come back.”

“But I don’t have guts.”

“…”

Sheng Zhaoming glanced briefly at the TV. Onscreen was a drama where Lu Hui had played a supporting role early in her career. Her expression was exaggerated, her eyes lifeless, her acting forced and unnatural.

He turned his eyes away in disgust, sincerely thinking—with acting like that, she’d never in her life have anything to do with the word “fame.”

He immediately turned and went upstairs, slamming the door behind him to block out her voice.

Lu Hui didn’t finish watching her old drama until 1 a.m. She stretched lazily and said, “Wow, I really wasn’t very good back then.”

The spacious living room was quiet—no response.

She suddenly came to her senses. There would no longer be a system in her mind answering her back.

On her first night back at the Sheng family home, Lu Hui slept in until ten the next morning.

When she came downstairs, Sheng Zhaoming was already at the dining table, ready to eat. The cold, refined man gave her a slightly strange look.

The housekeeper had prepared a Chinese-style breakfast, while Sheng Zhaoming clearly preferred Western food. No wonder his face looked so sour this early in the morning.

Lu Hui, however, loved congee. She picked up a bowl and spoon and dug in enthusiastically. “Aunt Chen, the seafood congee is delicious.”

“As long as you like it, Miss.”

Sheng Zhaoming, picky as ever, didn’t take a single bite of the congee that didn’t suit his taste.

He remembered that when Lu Hui used to live at home, she knew they didn’t like Aunt Chen’s breakfast, so she always got up early to make a separate one for them.

He assumed she’d done the same today—but she’d actually woken up later than him.

Lu Hui wiped her mouth. “Aunt Chen, I’m heading out.”

She completely treated Sheng Zhaoming like air.

The man sat stiffly in his chair, frowning deeply, suddenly furious. The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became. How could she just walk away like that?

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