Who Needs a CEO? I Choose Stardom

”Ahem!”

Hu Zhenning, ever loyal, gave a light cough, wanting Ni Bingyan to hand him the microphone.

Fans stir up trouble, and the celebrity takes the fall. It’s an old tradition in the industry.

This was trouble he’d brought on, so he was embarrassed to let Ni Bingyan handle it.

’He’s reliable in a pinch,’ she thought. ’His character isn’t bad.’

Ni Bingyan ignored him. Instead, she smiled lightly and asked the girl, ”Are you a fan of Hu Zhenning?”

She’d faced far more awkward situations than this, so she wasn’t intimidated.

The girl glanced at Hu Zhenning. Seeing him looking over with a smile, she quickly lowered her head shyly and let out a soft ”Mm-hmm.”

But she still held the microphone in a death grip, looking like she wouldn’t back down until she got an answer.

”It’s so late, and you still have fans here to support you. I’m so envious!”

Ni Bingyan first teased Hu Zhenning, then said with a serious expression, ”I don’t think baseless, malicious speculation deserves any explanation. Instead of dwelling on unpleasant topics, I’d rather share some funny stories about Hu Zhenning on set. Do you all want to hear them?”

The production team had hired Hu Zhenning for his popularity. Tonight, it was his fan who had started the trouble, so Ni Bingyan felt no guilt using him as a shield.

”Yes!”

The crowd’s reaction was enthusiastic.

A routine Q&A session was never as interesting as a sudden, unexpected incident.

Everyone pricked up their ears, eager to hear what she would say.

Including the fan who had asked the question.

She had only asked that question because people in her fan group chat had been saying that Ni Bingyan was so beautiful, yet there were no romance rumors between her and their ”big brother” while they were filming together. They wondered if there was some kind of conflict between them.

Some even claimed the two were already together, just without an official announcement.

The fan group had already had several big fights over this.

After finally managing to get a ticket to the premiere, she had originally wanted to ask Hu Zhenning a question. But when the Sisters in her group chat found out she was there, they insisted she ask Ni Bingyan this instead.

’An unexpected surprise?’

’An exclusive scoop, right in front of the person himself, so it’s guaranteed to be true! How could a fan not be thrilled?!’

Today wasn’t about her, and Ni Bingyan had no intention of stealing the spotlight. So, she didn’t keep them in suspense and went straight to the story:

”On set, Hu Zhenning often mentioned his fans telling him not to forget this and that. He’d complain all day, ’Those guys are so annoying,’ but he’d always do exactly as they said while grumbling.”

”We were filming this movie in the middle of summer. One evening, during a night shoot, it was his turn for a break after a scene. He insisted his fans had told him to soak his feet often when he was tired. Then he took out a light-blue collapsible bucket.”

”You know the kind, right? The type you press down to collapse.”

The crowd laughed and nodded, showing they knew. Hu Zhenning had already covered his face and turned away, clearly finding the memory too painful to revisit.

In truth, he was also worried Ni Bingyan might use this as a chance to vent her dissatisfaction. But he knew her character, and they were in a public setting, so he chose to play along.

’You’d be an idiot not to cash in on the publicity.’

The media lives by chasing hot topics, and they certainly knew how popular gossip about Hu Zhenning was. A flurry of shutters clicked, snapping photos nonstop.

Ni Bingyan didn’t delay, quickly finishing the rest of the story. ”He poured a whole kettle of boiling water in, adding just a splash of cold water. Then, while filming a video on his phone, he put his foot in, saying he was recording proof for his fans that he was properly soaking his feet. He even said his fans told him hotter water is more effective. The moment his foot went in, he yelped and shot up, instinctively resting his foot on the rim of the bucket. And then the collapsible bucket went—*poof*...”

Ni Bingyan made a pressing-down motion and burst out laughing. ”All I can say is, it’s a good thing I dodged quickly! Otherwise, I’d have been just like him, howling in pain from the scalding water!”

”Argh!! Why did you have to tell that story?! How am I supposed to live this down?!”

Hu Zhenning’s face was beet red; he was genuinely embarrassed.

He really looked quite foolish.

He was, after all, a ”young master” who’d been cared for his whole life. Hu Zhenning’s lack of life skills was well-known. It was late that day on set and his assistants were dozing off, so he decided to do it himself. He had mixed in cold water, so how was he to know the temperature wasn’t right?

Sigh. You could only say that handsome men need a few flaws to be cute.

His fans didn’t dislike this flaw. On the contrary, they felt it confirmed his superior upbringing was what gave him such a personality.

It was like how the princess from ”The Princess and the Pea” wouldn’t be called fussy, because she was, after all, a delicate and precious princess.

”Your fans came all the way here tonight to support you, shouldn’t you give them a little bonus? If you don’t believe me, ask them if they’re happy!”

Ni Bingyan paid no mind to Hu Zhenning’s protest. After saying her piece, she handed the microphone to the director.

Hu Zhenning just smiled sheepishly.

The fan immediately clutched her heart and sat down.

’Oh my god, this silly roe deer is just too silly! But he really dotes on his fans! Grumbling while doing what his fans say... just thinking about it is so endearingly contradictory!’

The moment she sat down, she started furiously typing messages in the group chat.

As soon as the news spread, the fan group chat exploded.

Although Ni Bingyan had said she wouldn’t explain, her words had made everything clear.

They had a great relationship, but it wasn’t a romantic one. That’s why she could casually bring up his embarrassing moments.

The fans were satisfied, and their favorable impression of Ni Bingyan skyrocketed.

Amid the hall’s roaring laughter, Director Deng took the microphone and continued the media Q&A. Even though no one was particularly interested in the originally planned questions anymore, the show had to go on.

It had to be said, actors who started as idols have a lot of die-hard fans. They could even infiltrate an event like this to stir up trouble.

One wrong move, and she might have been subjected to a barrage of online hate.

Ni Bingyan’s response this time was quite deft. Not only did she resolve her own predicament, but she also helped Hu Zhenning gain a wave of new fans, which was even more beneficial for the movie’s promotion.

Everything proceeded normally after that. She stood on stage with a smile, answering when asked a question and not trying to grab the spotlight when she wasn’t.

Hu Zhenning did the same.

The ”station masters” who had snuck in were snapping pictures nonstop, providing real-time updates on their ”big brother.” The fan groups were celebrating as if it were New Year’s.

’Ning-zai is breaking into the film industry! This is a historic event worth recording!’

After the premiere wrapped up according to schedule, on the way back to the set, Ni Bingyan heard from Duanmu Li that she was trending again.

She opened it and saw: #NiBingyanReveals, #ListenToTheFans, #HuZhenningSillyRoeDeer, #HuZhenningLowkeyEntersFilmIndustry...

Six of the top ten trending topics were about them. She had no idea how any of this was ”low-key.”

She checked her official Weibo account. Well, riding this wave of publicity, her follower count had already surpassed ten million. Sister Wei’s little goal had been achieved ahead of schedule.

”This is so rare! You collaborated with him and not only avoided getting cyberbullied, but you actually gained fans! This must be a first in history!”

Hu Zhenning’s fans were notorious for their combativeness.

The whole incident was so dramatic that even someone as quiet as Duanmu Li couldn’t help but joke about it.

”Sigh, what a circus.”

Ni Bingyan also found it amusing, but she didn’t pay it too much mind. Their paths were different, after all.

Closing Weibo, she started searching for movie reviews on various platforms.

With the premiere over, reviews were starting to pop up. This first wave of reviews could very well determine the movie’s reputation, so she needed to take a close look.

[I haven’t seen a movie with this much heart in a long time—Written after the premiere of *Children of the Mountains*

I was lucky enough to attend the premiere of *Children of the Mountains*. To be honest, I didn’t have high expectations at first. The story is simple, the theme is old-fashioned, and the leads aren’t famous for their acting prowess. If I hadn’t been so bored tonight, I probably wouldn’t have even gone. But after watching the movie, I honestly... I cried like an idiot.

Overall, this is a very down-to-earth film.

Both the editing and the cinematography have a straightforward, narrative feel, but while watching, you never feel like it’s just a dry recitation of events.

Director Deng’s films have always been like this: they look simple and unpretentious, but they are incredibly moving. This one is no exception.

After getting back from the theater, I lay in bed, unable to sleep for the longest time. Because whenever I close my eyes, that pair of moving, expressive eyes appears in my mind, impossible to forget.

It’s been a long time since I’ve cried and laughed for the same movie.

This is a work with a lot of heart. I’m giving it five stars. It was worth going to the theater in the middle of the night and not getting home until 3:30 AM.]