Who Needs a CEO? I Choose Stardom

”From today on, you are the poor, pitiful Luo Xiaoou.

”You’re a student at this school, and you’re constantly bullied by your classmates. Even though you get good grades, no one wants to be your friend, and you don’t like trying to fit in with them anyway.

”You don’t have parents. Your grandmother loved you, but she never truly understood what was in your heart. After she passed away, you grew even more lonely, and your life became much harder.

”You wear old, pilled clothes, eat the cheapest food, and while you proudly accept your academic scholarships, you’re also embarrassed to receive financial aid.

”At this stage of your life, you’re insecure and have low self-esteem, yet you’re also self-reliant, proud, and have a strong sense of self-worth.

”Do you understand what I’m saying?”

”Mm.”

Ni Bingyan wore her hair in braids, a baggy school uniform with frayed cuffs, and a pair of yellowed white sneakers. Clutching two math workbooks, she nodded gently.

She had started writing a character biography the moment she got the script. Drawing on the experiences of her past life, this kind of foundational work was no problem for her.

”Alright, walk a little for me. Let me see.”

Wu Xi nodded with satisfaction, stepping slightly to the side to let her walk right in front of her.

The set was still being dressed and the props were getting their final adjustments. Ni Bingyan, focusing completely on the director’s evaluation, kept her back straight, but her eyes instinctively drifted to the floor. Slipping into character as Luo Xiaoou, she began to walk as instructed.

In her past life, the only difference between her own adolescence and Luo Xiaoou’s was a rich grandfather.

Since becoming an actress, she had undergone specialized training on her posture and deportment. The way she walked, talked, and carried herself had all been polished to be elegant and beautiful. But that didn’t mean she had forgotten what she used to be like.

You could say that for Ni Bingyan, playing Luo Xiaoou during her school days was practically typecasting. It was no challenge at all.

Wu Xi deliberately brushed past her, wanting to see her reaction. Ni Bingyan’s grip on her workbooks instantly tightened. With a shuffle of her feet, she dodged her smoothly, then quickened her pace and vanished behind a row of bushes in the blink of an eye.

The entire sequence was incredibly natural. She exuded an aura of someone who was afraid of trouble, as if she had made that same move countless times before.

”Yes, not bad. Come on back! You’ve captured the essence of the character!”

Wu Xi switched on her personal amplifier and called Ni Bingyan back.

Seeing that preparations were nearly complete, she called the department heads together to get ready for the official shoot.

In August, taking advantage of the summer break before school started, the production of *Inheritor* began filming at a private high school in a suburb of Beijing. They were shooting scenes of the female lead Luo Xiaoou’s school life.

Director Wu Xi was sophisticated and fashionable.

Her soft, long hair was pulled back into a sleek bun. She wore a large visor, put on flawless makeup every day, and was adorned with delicate jewelry. Every so often, she would glance down at the elegant watch on her wrist.

She had a gentle disposition and spoke in a soft, quiet voice.

Worried that people wouldn’t be able to hear her, she wore a white personal voice amplifier. She would turn it off when speaking to someone nearby and turn it on to address someone in the distance.

In her world, it seemed, any sound from her own mouth that exceeded fifty decibels was considered ungraceful.

This kind of demeanor was extremely rare among directors.

In terms of rarity, Ni Bingyan had plenty to say on the matter.

The two oddballs clicked the moment they met.

After a few days of working together, Ni Bingyan discovered that not only did the director have a strong sense of punctuality, she was also incredibly particular about makeup and wardrobe.

On the day of the promotional photoshoot, the wardrobe stylist got an earful from her because a crease in the hem of an outfit made it look less than high-end.

She wasn’t a hothead like Li Yiru, who would erupt at the slightest provocation.

She would simply fix you with her piercingly clear gaze and tell you gently—

”When you’re on the job, you need to be meticulous. You can’t ever have the mindset that just getting by is good enough. For example, to present a garment like this... it’s just unprofessional.”

Sometimes, a soft-spoken rebuke can be more devastating than an arsenal of weapons.

She was gentle, yet ruthless and sharp-tongued. It was as if her disdain automatically made you a terrible person, and her criticism made your actions unequivocally wrong, with no room for rebuttal.

The young woman from the wardrobe department immediately teared up, looking as if she’d been berated for a full day and night. Her pride felt like it had been pinned to the floor and ground into the dirt.

From that day on, Ni Bingyan reminded herself daily to be twice as diligent in her work. She absolutely could not let Wu Xi call her unprofessional.

’Otherwise, if word gets out, the gossip blogs will have a field day with it, and it would probably become a permanent stain on my reputation.’

But once filming truly began, Ni Bingyan discovered that as long as your work was good enough, Wu Xi was never stingy with her praise and affirmation.

For instance, after they finished shooting a scene where Luo Xiaoou gets bullied, the praise began:

”Yes, Luo Xiaoou’s performance just now was excellent. The subtle details you added... I hadn’t thought of that. Very creative.”

Luo Xiaoou wasn’t a weak person; she had just been crushed into that shape by life.

So, when her classmates pushed her to the ground and started punching and kicking her, Ni Bingyan added an action. While curled up to protect herself, she reached out and grabbed a sharp-edged rock.

After grabbing the rock, her fingers tightened and relaxed over and over. But in the end, she didn’t use it to bash her classmates’ heads in.

She still had dreams. She still had a future. She didn’t want to throw it all away by taking these pieces of trash down with her.

”Let’s go again. Camera, I want a tight close-up on her hand.”

The crew reset the scene, and Ni Bingyan returned to her starting position along with the other actors, carefully thinking through her next take.

Once the director gave the word, they reenacted the scene.

Work on a film set was just like this—fragmented, complicated, and tedious.

If you were unlucky enough to work under a less-than-competent manager, you’d also have to deal with all sorts of scheming and backstabbing.

Thankfully, Wu Xi had, from the very beginning, revealed the assertive side hidden beneath her gentle exterior. After a few days on set, Ni Bingyan felt this was probably the most well-ordered film crew she had ever worked with.

For a self-disciplined person like her who valued order, this was exactly the kind of work environment she appreciated.

When work went smoothly, she was in a good mood.

So after the shoot wrapped up for the day, seeing it was still early, she offered to treat the entire cast and crew to dinner.

It was common for a lead actor to treat everyone to a meal, so the crew was used to it.

Out of respect, she first asked Wu Xi what she was in the mood for.

She had assumed someone like Wu Xi would prefer something light, like Cantonese cuisine. To her surprise, Wu Xi said she wanted to get barbecue.

When she asked the crew, they all agreed that barbecue sounded great. So, Ni Bingyan took everyone to a barbecue place she knew.

At dinner, she sat next to Wu Xi and noticed she barely touched her food all evening. Then she looked over at her colleagues, who were all digging in enthusiastically, and immediately understood.

At work, the director was serious, responsible, and demanding. She occasionally showed no mercy, her sharp tongue making people want to crawl into a hole and die.

But in her personal life, she was incredibly considerate, willing to put herself out to accommodate the wishes of the majority.

’A person like that is actually quite endearing.’

Ni Bingyan quietly excused herself and went to the kitchen to fry up a less-oily version of Golden Silk Egg Fried Rice. She placed the dish in the middle of the table and served a small bowl to Wu Xi first.

Wu Xi glanced at her, said a graceful ”thank you,” and began to eat quietly.

After finishing the bowl, she went and served herself a second one.

Ni Bingyan had been a bit nervous, worried that she had misjudged the director’s tastes. Now, she was overjoyed.

She wasn’t trying to be a suck-up. She just knew that to make a good film, you need chemistry—not just between the actors, but also between the actors and the director. This was especially true for the lead.

This was a purely female-led film. Unlike when she was shooting *Soul Ferryman*, where she would often hang out with Gao Junhui, Cui Xinran, and Tong Mengxue to de-stress, Ni Bingyan didn’t need to do that here. The most important thing was to build a good relationship with Wu Xi.

After dinner, she returned to her trailer. Ni Bingyan followed her usual routine: feeding her dog, painting, studying, then calling Sang Yuan for a chat before catching up on unread messages.

Just as she finished and was about to turn off the lights to sleep, she got a call from Sister Wei. She said the shooting schedule for a major commercial had been confirmed. She also mentioned that someone was coming tomorrow to take Ni Bingyan’s measurements in preparation for the upcoming Spring/Summer Fashion Week events over the next two months.

Ni Bingyan groggily agreed, then slipped on her eye mask and went to sleep.

It was already ten-thirty. This beauty had no intention of staying up late tonight.