Demon Consort Runs into the Beijing Crown Prince - Chapter 27

The next day, when Chu Muyun arrived on set, he noticed many staff members staring at him with a mixture of admiration and awe, whispering among themselves. As a former Demon Consort, he was no stranger to such gazes.

Luo Yi, on the other hand, had been in a foul mood since morning. While drinking water, he suddenly slammed his cup down, his face twisted with malice, spilling water across the floor.

An eerie tension hung over the set.

“What’s going on?” Chu Muyun asked.

Xiao Xing whispered, “Didn’t you see Weibo? Luo Yi lost an endorsement yesterday. Everyone’s saying he’s about to get canceled, he’s on the brink of being exposed.”

“Oh? That’s juicy. Let me check,” Chu Muyun said, pulling out his phone and opening Weibo.

The Great King took action without even telling me? Losing an endorsement, that’s brutal. Heh.

Last night, all I could think about was the Great King. After Lu Hanzhang left, I stood in the shower, replaying his expressions and voice in my mind as I pleasured myself. The scalding water felt like the Great King’s embrace. My legs were weak when I finally stepped out. I didn’t even bother checking Weibo—I just sent Lu Hanzhang a “Good night” message and crashed.

It seemed he’d missed quite the drama.

After scrolling through Weibo for a while, Chu Muyun pieced together what had happened.

Yesterday, Luo Yi’s fans had noticed that his promotional photos had been removed from Jiattai’s official website. They flooded Jiattai’s official Weibo account with inquiries, to which the company replied: [We have terminated our contract with Mr. Luo.]

The news quickly trended on social media.

Luo Yi’s endorsement with Jiattai had been grandly announced just recently, less than six months ago. Contract terms typically wouldn’t be this short. Moreover, the official Weibo account stated “termination,” not “expiration.”

Under the trending topic, some speculated it was due to the recent “assistant’s outburst” incident. Others guessed that Luo Yi might be about to drop a major scandal, and Jiattai, as the brand, had caught wind of it and terminated the contract preemptively.

The latter theory inevitably led to a fierce online battle with Luo Yi’s fans. Normally, casual observers stood no chance against organized, fervent fan groups. But last night’s clash was different. Luo Yi’s fans initially charged aggressively, only to gradually fall silent, their leading fan accounts going completely silent. Perhaps they had received internal news that the situation was dire.

Chu Muyun watched the drama unfold with glee.

I knew it! Just like the takeout shop with its pre-made meals, our entertainment industry has its own pre-packaged scandals ready to implode!

He happily ordered milk tea for the entire crew again. Shu Meijia’s advertising fee had arrived, 50,000 yuan. Finally, he could buy milk tea without having to calculate his bank balance.

Meanwhile, Lu Hanzhang, attending a high-end telecommunications summit, received his (possibly second ever) milk tea delivery. Amid a sea of middle-aged bosses clutching thermos cups filled with goji berry tea, he expressionlessly sipped his milk tea.

Despite the off-set drama, filming continued smoothly.

The story had reached its second half. Gu Minglun, cast as the tragic foil to protagonist Bai Xiaoyang, was faring increasingly poorly, his initial princely elegance now a distant memory.

On his birthday night, he stood alone by the roadside, gazing at the elaborate castle cake in the dessert shop window—or perhaps through the glass at the people inside, selecting treats in the brightly lit interior, without even enough money for a single slice.

Meanwhile, Bai Xiaoyang and the male lead, Xu Yi, were embracing amidst the clinking glasses and lavish splendor of a high-society banquet.

Chu Muyun, having finished his scene as the pitiful, scheming “little green tea,” instantly shed the role the moment the camera stopped rolling. Smiling brightly and walking with a breezy confidence, he seemed ready to burst into song at any moment.

He was the most carefree and triumphant person on set.

A few days later, more good news arrived.

Thanks to the Lu Clan’s influence, the acquisition of Huashi was finalized at record speed. The long-established entertainment company was officially renamed StarJoy Media. Upon launching its official Weibo account, StarJoy immediately followed and tagged Chu Muyun.

Chu Muyun had just finished filming and returned to his hotel to rest when Lu Hanzhang called.

Lu Hanzhang seems a bit introverted. He’s perfectly capable in business settings, but he’d rather text on WeChat than make a phone call.

This was one of the rare times he had initiated a call.

“The acquisition is complete. You’re now an artist with StarJoy,” Lu Hanzhang’s deep, pleasant voice announced. “Follow the official Weibo account and update your Weibo prefix.”

StarJoy was just one of many subsidiaries under the Lu Group umbrella. Normally, a CEO like Lu Hanzhang wouldn’t personally oversee artist contracts, yet here he was, calling himself.

“Great! I’ll do it right away.”

Chu Muyun hung up and immediately changed his Weibo name to “StarJoy-Chu Muyun V.”

He followed the official account and reposted their announcement with the comment: [Looking forward to a fruitful partnership.]

Just as he was about to post, he couldn’t resist adding a playful jab: [I heard our boss is incredibly handsome! Is that true? @StarJoyMediaV]

The person behind StarJoy Media’s official Weibo account, clearly in on the joke, immediately replied: [Of course! Our boss is the most handsome in the world! (Please give me a raise for this!)]

Fans and casual onlookers flooded the comments section with playful banter: [How handsome is he? Show us!]

[I don’t believe it unless you post a photo for us to judge!]

Haters still lurked among the crowd, their comments dripping with sarcasm. In the past, Chu Muyun had ignored them, but now he systematically silenced and blocked each one, purging the comment section.

Meanwhile, Lu Hanzhang scrolled through Weibo in high spirits. He chuckled at Chu Muyun’s exchange with the official account.

Fine, give the social media manager a raise.

Shortly after, StarJoy Media posted a second statement: [Regarding the cyberattacks against our artist @StarJoy-ChuMuyun, we will not tolerate such behavior. We have secured evidence, filed a police report, and sent legal notices. Those responsible will face legal consequences. Let this serve as a reminder: the internet is not above the law. Exercise caution in your words and actions.]

Chu Muyun read the post, a warm feeling spreading through his heart.

After two years of relentless cyberbullying, this was the first time a company had publicly stood up for him.

The Weibo post was sternly worded, and few haters dared to comment beneath it. It was as if they had all been struck dumb that night.

Scrolling through the comments, Chu Muyun spotted some familiar old fans.

[Is our Chu Chu about to turn the tables?!]

[Taking a deep breath of this fresh, hater-free air~]

[The bitter times are finally over, sob sob sob.]

These few loyal fans had supported him despite facing cyberbullying from Luo Yi’s fans. They had started following him even before he had any notable works, drawn in by a minor character he had portrayed.

Chu Muyun sent private messages to each of them, expressing his gratitude and offering to send a small gift if they provided their addresses.

As for the gifts, he would ask the boss for a few of Lu Clan’s flagship smartphones released this year.

…

The final scene of Misaligned depicted the protagonists’ grand wedding. Gu Minglun, consumed by resentment and jealousy, hid a knife on his person and attempted to storm the venue for revenge. So consumed by hatred, he failed to notice an out-of-control truck hurtling toward him. His body flew through the air like a kite with a severed string, crashing to the ground. He died just across the street from the wedding hotel.

Of course, the scene wasn’t filmed with real stunts. The flying impact was achieved with wire work. Chu Muyun lay in a pool of fake blood, dyed a vivid red, striking a final pose. His face was as pale as paper, his eyes wide and vacant, still burning with lingering resentment.

When the director shouted “Cut!”, Chu Muyun instantly sprang back to life. He sat up, flashed a peace sign at Xiao Xing, who had been taking photos, and grinned brightly.

After all, this was an idol drama. The villain’s death scene wouldn’t be too gruesome. Apart from the bloodstains on his clothes, his face remained relatively clean.

Chu Muyun rushed over to review Xiao Xing’s photos, “Good, send them to me.”

He forwarded the pictures to Lu Hanzhang: [That’s a wrap! Dinner with the crew tonight, then I’m catching the earliest flight back tomorrow!]

Lu Hanzhang replied instantly: [Okay.]