The True Heiress Is The Real Bigshot

Chapter 133 - 133: 130 A slap in the face, too late for regrets [2 updates]



Chapter 133: 130 A slap in the face, too late for regrets [2 updates]

The film producer went weak at the knees upon seeing Nie Chao.

Although he was in charge of the overall planning and shooting of the script, he had no idea what the boss’s preferences were.

Originally, he had produced a small web drama according to current web drama trends, opting for sensationalism at every corner—the Asura Field full of amnesia clichés was used.

At that time, the producer thought it was quite good when he saw many comments online.

Little did he know that their boss would personally visit the studio, claiming that if they continued to shoot such melodramatic dramas, he would break their legs.

The producer was panic-stricken inside.

Their boss hardly ever came to Hengdian; could this mean he was serious this time?

Adjacent to him.

The moment the producer began to speak, Luo Ziyue’s mind went completely blank, and her ears buzzed with noise.

“…”

She could barely comprehend what the producer was saying, her arrogant expression frozen on her face, as she stared ahead blankly, her eyes devoid of spirit.

The staff following behind her also had their laughter freeze, utterly incredulous.

This person wearing a pink suit with slippers was the boss?!

Did he just attempt to take the seat of the drama’s boss and even made bold threats?

The staff member shivered, his body quaking uncontrollably.

Just as he was about to confirm with the producer, the producer wiped off sweat and spoke again, “Miss Luo, let me introduce you, this is our investor, Mr. Nie Chao.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Nie Chao replied, still holding his luxurious chair. Hearing this, he responded sarcastically, “I’m not an investor; I’m a group performer that’s been blacklisted by Hengdian.”

Luo Ziyue’s face turned pale in an instant, far from her previous arrogance.

Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t say anything.

As Nie Chao spoke, the producer also remembered what Luo Ziyue had said before, both shocked and angry, “What did you say? You want to drive the investor out of Hengdian?”

“No, I…” Luo Ziyue was exceedingly embarrassed and overwhelmed with shame.

She felt as if her face was burning with pain, wishing she could just bury herself in a hole.

She was used to throwing her weight around. Even before she debuted, she acted the same way in “Youth 101,” and the other contestants dared not speak out against her.

After all, she had connections, and even if someone didn’t like the exposure she got, their Weibo posts would be scrubbed clean. In the end, the one who would suffer was the person who exposed her.

Thus, Luo Ziyue never considered the consequences; whoever crossed her, she would let them have it.

Who would think that such a big investor would dress so informally?

“Mr. Nie, I’m sorry,” Luo Ziyue was forced to apologize, her voice faltering, “I didn’t know before and have offended you, it really is…”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Nie Chao wasn’t buying it, “What did you say about The Seventh Young Master’s sister? Say it again.”

He looked her up and down: “What are you, to have her come for you?”

Even The Seventh Young Master was barely entitled to that privilege.

What was this obscure actress?

Nie Chao really wanted to swing his chair up and vent his anger.

In one sentence, he humiliated Luo Ziyue so much that she couldn’t even stand steady. Her face turned pale, and she stammered out, “This young lady, I’m…I’m sorry, I always thought you were my illegitimate child, I…”

The girl had ignored her from the beginning, not even glancing in her direction.

This made Luo Ziyue feel even more humiliated, and the color drained from her lips completely.

She turned to Nie Chao, her tone for the first time tinged with a hint of pleading, “Mr. Nie Chao, I really didn’t mean it.”

“Sorry, but I’m that petty,” said Nie Chao, who had seen his fair share of celebrities in the entertainment industry. Luo Ziyue wasn’t at all on his radar. He spoke directly to the producer, “Have her leave our drama group right now, and I don’t want to see her in Hengdian.”

The producer naturally heeded Nie Chao’s words and made a snap decision, “Miss Luo, you don’t have to come for filming at seven tomorrow morning. I’ll settle your remuneration for these past few days.”

“Gather all your stuff and your entourage and get out. Our drama group’s temple is too small to accommodate a big Buddha like you.”

Luo Ziyue’s body swayed, her complexion deathly pale.

Regret surged within her wave upon wave, along with a sense of injustice, as tears began to gather in her eyes.

“And this staff member too, you’re fired,” Nie Chao continued, “What an attitude to work, no manners at all. You’re lucky it was me; if you had encountered another company’s boss, you’d be straight back home farming.”

The staff member shook like chaff, “Boss, I didn’t know it was you, if I had known…”

“So what, if you knew you would have climbed on top of my head?” Nie Chao scoffed, “Too unlucky, take care of this mess, we’re leaving.”

He cleared his throat, lowering his voice, “Seventh Young Master, I’m cool, right?”

Fu Yunshen glanced at him, with a smirk, “Maybe when you have a sense of style.”

“What’s wrong with my sense of style,” Nie Chao grumbled, “If I had the same presence as you and my brother, I could wear a burlap sack and still pull it off.”

The producer saw the three of them off, calling out, “Boss, don’t worry, this drama will definitely satisfy you.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than he saw the girl stop, turn around, and walk back to him.

Ying Zijin took out a bag of snacks and said, “I think the script is not bad.”

The producer was baffled.

“Or just go for whatever is most melodramatic, the more the better,” Ying Zijin yawned, nodding slightly. “Promising, keep up the good work.”

The producer looked at the bag of chips the girl had given him, falling into a state of perplexity.

After a long while, he scratched his head and returned in a daze.

**

After being humiliated by Nie Chao, Luo Ziyue had lost all face to go and settle her acting fees.

That very night, she hurriedly left Hengdian in a nanny van.

On the way, her agent finally learned the ins and outs of the situation and was so angry he wanted to curse out loud, “Luo Ziyue, what did I tell you? I told you to tone it down, to stop throwing tantrums. It’s not the selection period anymore!”

“This is a script that the company fought hard to get for you. Will you die without a soft chair? Do you have to compete with others for a chair?”

Luo Ziyue’s face didn’t look good. “He’s a boss, dressed so ridiculously, who would have known?”

Of course, she picked her moments to be a diva.

She couldn’t wait to fawn over investors; how could she possibly offend them?

“Luo Ziyue, I warn you, your debut position was bought, and it’s already provoked the anger of netizens,” the agent didn’t know what else to say, suppressing his anger. “If it weren’t for the company setting you up with a daring and loving image, would you even have fans, do you know that?”

Luo Ziyue stopped talking and pursed her lips.

Of course, she knew that her debut was thanks to her backer buying votes.

Her debut spot was actually meant for the real ninth-place contender, whom she had displaced, so naturally, that person didn’t debut.

But that ninth-place person had many fans voting for them, and after the results were out, they went to her Weibo to denounce her for the injustice.

But what could they do about it?

Without the support of a company, an amateur, no matter how high their performance ranking, how could they compare with her?

Luo Ziyue was completely unfazed by this.

The entertainment industry was like that; with a backer, you climb more easily.

“Let’s go back,” the agent couldn’t say more, after all, his superiors had told him to take good care of Luo Ziyue, “There are other scripts, pick one.”

**

This year’s Labor Day was a five-day holiday, and many Verdant students who had finished their exams were happily traveling.

Except for the third-year high school students who were still taking supplementary lessons, the remaining ones were the teachers grading exams.

The teachers all complained bitterly. Without a holiday, they had to look at the photos of delicious food sent by their students in social media circles.

The principal really had no humanity.

But this had become a tradition at Verdant Middle School. The second semester midterm exams were always before May Day, and after the holidays, the rankings were posted, and papers handed out.

However, this time, some subject teachers had it easy.

Especially the physics teachers.

Multiple choice questions were graded by a machine, no need for teachers.

The rest was just one experimental question, two analytical questions, plus an elective question. Breaking it down, there wasn’t much to grade.

The most important thing was that this time the paper was difficult.

Whether it was the Elite Class’s paper or the regular classes’ papers, they were all much harder than in previous years, which meant many students didn’t complete them.

The Head of the Physics Group was initially unhappy about getting up early to grade papers.

But after grading about a dozen, he felt refreshed.

He was assigned the elective questions for five classes, including the Elite Class.

But it turned out that very few students attempted the elective question.

Of the few who did, they barely wrote down the formula for mechanical waves and might get two points.

A glance was enough to see a sea of white; he didn’t even need to look, just draw a zero directly.

This relaxed the Head of the Physics Group while grading,

Sitting in front of the computer, he was happily grading papers and even hummed a little tune.

He had also reviewed the problems. The standard paper’s elective question was of the level of a physics competition, and only the exceptional students from the science experimental class who took part in physics competitions might be able to solve it.

As for the Elite Class’s paper?

He had to look at the answers for a long time to understand what the solution approach was.

After grading a hundred standard papers, the Head of the Physics Group switched to grading the Elite Class’s papers.

This year’s Elite Class also had a few formidable students; perhaps they managed to solve the elective question?

But the result was still blank, blank, blank.

He marked zero, zero, zero, without the slightest hesitation.

The Head of the Physics Group was thrilled, looking forward to finishing up and taking his wife and son hiking, until he flipped to the last answer card.


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