Chapter 14: A Smug Smile

Song Zhong had been specially invited by Lin Ge Entertainment to target My Baby Prince. Even if he couldn’t stop the momentum of the show, it was worth it just to disgust Lu Xu.

As a drama critic, Song Zhong’s main job was contributing articles to various print media. Back when the TV drama industry was more insular, critics were usually insiders. Song Zhong was treated like a VIP by production crews and had good relationships with screenwriters and actors alike. Occasionally, he even helped promote movies and held positions in various associations.

Unfortunately, with the rise of online platforms, anyone could become a drama critic. Production teams gradually shifted their focus to popular bloggers with large followings.

Song Zhong had a bad temper. Whenever he disliked a production crew, he would harshly criticize them regardless of the show’s quality. In the past, crews had no choice but to tolerate him. But now, with more critics around and Song Zhong lacking social media skills, his influence was limited, and production teams no longer had to put up with his antics.

Objectively speaking, Song Zhong’s current life wasn’t going too well.

Although he still held a nominal position in associations and had a seat at roundtable discussions, it was a far cry from the days when he was highly sought after. Being relegated to the sidelines left him feeling deeply resentful.

To make matters worse, his income had been cut by more than half.

When Lin Ge Entertainment approached him this time, it was a big deal for Song Zhong.

While he lacked confidence in many areas, when it came to criticizing others, he feared no one.

Song Zhong penned a sprawling 3,000-word article that tore My Baby Prince to shreds. As he typed, he grew more and more excited because there were just too many flaws to pick apart in the show. While he had taken a hefty payment from Lin Ge Entertainment, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of mission, as though he were purging the television industry of harmful content.

How could a low-intelligence series like My Baby Prince possibly deserve the top spot on the trending charts?

As soon as the long article was posted, Song Zhong’s comment section was flooded with praise. Song Zhong had only about 30,000 followers on Weibo, half of whom were platform-generated bots. Yet, after refreshing his feed just once, he saw his comments surpass a thousand and quickly inching toward ten thousand.

[Brilliantly said!]

[The success of My Baby Prince truly makes one worry about the TV industry. With all the resources, technology, and production budgets we have nowadays, we’re still churning out piles of electronic garbage. The fact that My Baby Prince is popular is a disgrace to the entire industry.]

[Agreed! Young actors like Gu Sinian, who stay true to their craft, are rare. He didn’t take shortcuts like Lu Xu but still has to endure ridicule from him. I’m so proud to be his fan.]

Reading these accolades, Song Zhong couldn’t help but feel smug. It reassured him that he hadn’t lost his touch—the skills he relied on for a living were still sharp as ever.

While criticizing My Baby Prince was mostly for the money, his attacks on Lu Xu stemmed from pure jealousy. In his younger days, Song Zhong had also dreamed of making a living in the film industry with his talent as an artsy intellectual.

Unfortunately, no matter which production crew he auditioned for, he was always rejected.

One director had bluntly said he wasn’t strikingly handsome or distinctively ugly—just plain unattractive. “Too much screen time with him, and even the cameras might break.”

Now, at his age, he still had to make a living by writing critiques. Meanwhile, Lu Xu, just because of his good looks, had managed to rehabilitate even the worst of reputations.

Song Zhong couldn’t stand it. To make matters worse, Lu Xu bore some resemblance to a once wildly popular actor who had dominated the entertainment scene and now lived a life of quiet retirement. Song Zhong had always believed he wasn’t that unattractive but had simply been overshadowed by that actor during every audition they both attended.

Meanwhile, Gu Sinian was keeping a close eye on Song Zhong’s Weibo.

The moment Song Zhong’s long article was posted, Lin Ge Entertainment’s marketing campaign would follow up immediately. They intended to keep My Baby Prince trending for three days and nights, hoping to repel curious onlookers and reduce the show’s appeal to casual viewers.

Gu Sinian had initially wanted to sneak in a like on Song Zhong’s post, but he hesitated. If Lu Xu noticed, he might lose his temper and spam the post with dozens of “accidental” likes in retaliation—something Gu Sinian wasn’t prepared to handle.

Since Song Zhong’s critique aimed directly at Lu Xu, Gu Sinian decided it was best not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

That said, the more he read Song Zhong’s review, the more satisfied he felt.

Not only did the review thoroughly tear My Baby Prince apart, but it also praised The Watchers—and, by extension, him.

While Song Zhong’s personality was unpleasant, his reviews were undeniably sharp and insightful. He had specifically highlighted Gu Sinian’s standout moments in The Watchers, which neither Lin Ge Entertainment nor Gu Sinian’s team had previously recognized.

If marketed from this angle, his performance in The Watchers wouldn’t seem so lackluster after all.

Gu Sinian couldn’t help but wonder how Lu Xu would react when he saw the review.

Even though he had an audition to attend that morning, Gu Sinian made sure to instruct his manager to keep an eye on Lu Xu’s Weibo.

“You can check Weibo if you want,” his manager said with a frown, “but don’t let it affect your performance later. Even if the male lead role is practically guaranteed, you still need to leave a good impression on the director and screenwriter.”

The poor reception of The Watchers had already impacted Gu Sinian’s career prospects, despite Lin Ge Entertainment’s best efforts to salvage the situation.

The project he was auditioning for next was a period drama with a strong cast and a well-crafted script. It was also Gu Sinian’s first attempt at playing a male lead.

The production team had essentially finalized their casting decisions, and all terms had been agreed upon with Lin Ge Entertainment. This audition was mostly a formality.

It didn’t take long before Gu Sinian’s manager informed him that Lu Xu had posted something on Weibo.

Gu Sinian thought to himself that no matter how sharp Lu Xu’s retorts might be, Song Zhong’s critique came from a professional standpoint. There was no way for Lu Xu to counter it effectively.

And even if Lu Xu did fire back, dealing with someone like Song Zhong would be like stepping into quicksand. Once caught, he wouldn’t escape easily.

From now on, every time Lu Xu starred in a drama, Song Zhong would undoubtedly find a way to sink his teeth in.

Full of anticipation, Gu Sinian opened Weibo, only to be greeted by two striking posts:

[Did The Watchers not hit the top of the rankings because it didn’t want to?]

[Why beat around the bush? What’s wrong with Gu Sinian’s looks?]

The comment section under these posts had already surpassed Song Zhong’s critique in activity.

While Song Zhong’s lengthy review required patience from the average onlooker, Lu Xu’s response was short, sharp, and brutally effective: The Watchers flopped, and Gu Sinian was ugly.

It couldn’t have been more straightforward.

Gu Sinian was so furious he felt short of breath.

When he checked the trending topics, it became even worse. Weibo was making the most of both sides. On one hand, #SongZhongCriticizesLuXu had climbed to the top of the trending chart, while on the other, #What’sWrongWithGuSinian’sLooks had made it into the top three.

To add insult to injury, Lu Xu’s Weibo had been updated again.

This time, he specifically tagged Song Zhong: [Acting is about skill, not looks. Please don’t insult my former teammate Gu Sinian while praising me. Thank you.]

Gu Sinian: “…”

Had Lu Xu completely lost his mind?

Lu Xu’s comment section was already a festival of hilarity:

[LMAO, Song Zhong is talking about one thing, and Lu Xu just throws shade at another.]

[Haha, Lu Xu is so direct. Basically, he’s saying, stop whining, The Watchers just doesn’t have the same buzz as My Baby Prince.]

[This mindset is truly admirable.]

[Lu Xu: No matter who criticizes me, I’ll only roast Gu Sinian.]

[I’m starting to feel bad for Gu Sinian. It’s like being connected to Lu Xu is his punishment.]

[I don’t know much about Verse’s past drama, but Gu Sinian’s vibes do seem a bit passive-aggressive. Meanwhile, Lu Xu is completely shutting that down. It’s oddly satisfying.]

The morning wasn’t particularly hot, yet Gu Sinian was fuming so hard that his forehead felt like it was on fire.

A quick glance at the trending list confirmed his worst fears: Song Zhong’s critique was no longer the main topic of discussion. Instead, it was all about Lu Xu and him.

The high visibility of My Baby Prince had already led to the entire history of Verse being dug up again.

Back when Verse was on the verge of disbanding, Lu Xu had no way to fight back against the rest of the group. He had no projects, few fans, and zero support from the company. It was easy for the others to pin their scandals on him.

But now? Lu Xu was solely targeting him. And worse, My Baby Prince had gained enough traction to give Lu Xu a small surge of fame.

Despite its poor production, My Baby Prince being number one on the trending charts reflected audience choice.

The onlookers began piecing the puzzle together:

Right, right—Lu Xu b*llied Xie Qingyang, Meng Qin, and Gu Sinian incessantly back then. To compensate the trio, the company gave each of them an ambassadorship for a luxury brand.

Absolutely, Lu Xu was the villain. The other three wanted nothing more than for Verse to reunite, but Lu Xu refused.

And yet, after the disbandment, Xie Qingyang, Meng Qin, and Gu Sinian kept landing opportunities, while Lu Xu, left with nothing, still didn’t want a reunion?

The narrative now twisted into this bizarre logic:

Lu Xu b*llied his teammates → his teammates’ careers flourished → his teammates retaliated against him → he got kicked out, and his teammates’ careers soared even higher.

Why would Lu Xu even bother b*llying his teammates? Was he stupid?

1 vs. 3 was unwinnable—was he stupid?

To this, the public began mocking Lin Ge Entertainment:

[Do you think we’re idiots?]

For Gu Sinian and the others, who were striving to build their reputations in the industry, these rumors were undeniably damaging.

In the past, Lin Ge Entertainment could suppress such gossip, but with Lu Xu’s rising visibility, controlling the narrative was no longer within their power.

Gu Sinian sighed deeply.

Among the three remaining members of Verse, he was the only one pursuing acting, which made comparisons with Lu Xu unavoidable.

His relationships with Xie Qingyang and Meng Qin weren’t particularly close, and while he and Lu Xu were making headlines every day, the other two remained entirely uninvolved.

If Gu Sinian wanted to secure his place, he had to find a way to suppress Lu Xu.

The car drove into the building, and Gu Sinian arrived a few minutes earlier than planned.

As the sole candidate for the male lead, he didn’t have to wait miserably outside like the other actors. The role was practically decided; it was an unspoken agreement between him and the production team.

However, Gu Sinian had never expected to see Lu Xu among the group of young actors in the waiting room.

Gu Sinian couldn’t help but stop in his tracks. The moment their eyes met, he gave Lu Xu a smile, raising an eyebrow slightly.

There was a hierarchy even among actors.

So what if The Watchers flopped?

He didn’t need to queue up and wait in vain; roles came easily to him.

Even if My Baby Prince was gaining traction, Lu Xu was still just one of the pitiful actors desperately hoping for the production team’s favor.

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