Chapter 36
She put down the cup, her voice low but carrying a matter-of-fact calm, "I've already cooperated. I threw it as she asked, I fell it. As for whether the fall was realistic or not, whether the fall was beautiful or not..."
She tilted her head slightly, as if pondering an interesting question, "My divine body's instincts have reached their limit. Should I seal away my divine power and let anyone touch me?"
The last sentence, with a slight rise in tone, carried a hint of barely perceptible coldness. For her, allowing the male actor to get that close was already the maximum level of "cooperation" she could comprehend.
Looking at her aloof and matter-of-fact expression, Lu Xiao opened his mouth, but ultimately let out a helpless sigh. Of course, he understood what she meant.
Every time he got close to her, especially when they made physical contact, he could vaguely feel an invisible barrier, a realm deep within her soul that was inviolable.
The fact that she could open even a crack in his path was already an immense honor for him. To ask someone who once stood proudly at the pinnacle of the divine realm, capable of annihilating stars with a wave of their hand, to imitate the deliberate weakness and panic of a mortal woman? This was probably even more absurd than asking a mortal to ascend to heaven in one step.
He reached out and, with utter nonchalance, gently tidied a non-existent stray hair at her temple, his fingertips moving with a tender affection. "I know I've wronged you."
He softened his voice, "But we're just starting out in this industry, and making too many enemies isn't a good thing. This afternoon's dialogue class..."
"Don't worry," Zhuohua interrupted him, the corners of her lips curving up almost instantly, so quickly it seemed like an illusion, "It's just a poem."
The afternoon dialogue class was moved to a recording studio with excellent soundproofing. The atmosphere was a bit more serious than the morning's physical training class.
Zhang Rui, the dialogue director, is an elegant old professor known for his captivating voice. At this moment, he is pacing back and forth in front of Zhuo Hua with his hands behind his back. His face turns from white to green, and then from green to red, looking like a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding.
"Stop! Stop! Zhuohua, classmate!"
Professor Zhang abruptly raised his hand, as if to cover his ears from afar, his voice filled with despair, “‘The bright moonlight shines before my bed, I suspect it is frost on the ground’... How tranquil, how contemplative! How... how subtle and restrained the homesickness! I'm not asking you to recite a proclamation! Nor am I asking you to proclaim the Heavenly Emperor's decree in the Lingxiao Palace! Your resonance that penetrates to your dantian, that penetrating power that soars to the heavens, and the unintentional sense of oppressive power that comes out at the end, as if it could crush the stars... Where is this quiet night homesickness? This is clearly ‘Moonlight, heed my command! Come see me immediately!’ Ah!”
He clutched his chest, breathing rapidly, feeling his heart clench in waves, and even his vision blurred. In over thirty years of teaching, he'd seen countless students, from hopeless cases to geniuses—what oddballs hadn't he encountered?
But someone like Zhuohua, who can read a poem like "Quiet Night Thoughts" that even elementary school students can recite with such an aura of supreme authority, with words that seem to carry the weight of the heavens and could summon a thunderbolt from the sky at any moment... is absolutely a first in history!
This is no longer a matter of technique; it's a complete denial of the very foundation of this poem's existence at the soul level!
Professor Zhang pointed with trembling fingers to the water dispenser and oxygen tank in the corner of the recording studio—his longtime partners.
"I can't take it anymore... I need to catch my breath... If I keep listening, I'm afraid my old bones will die here..." He walked unsteadily, almost leaning on the wall, staggering to the corner, grabbing the oxygen mask, taking a few deep breaths, and his rapid breathing calmed down a little, but his face was still ashen.
The staff members in the recording studio responsible for recording and clapping were all tightly pursing their lips, their shoulders twitching suspiciously, and their faces flushed red. A young female assistant couldn't hold back any longer and quickly lowered her head, pretending to tidy up the equipment, but a suppressed laugh still escaped from between her fingers.
Zhuohua stood in front of the microphone, her expression still calm. She watched Professor Zhang's disheveled figure as he inhaled oxygen, a very subtle hint of confusion even flashing in her eyes.
She had clearly restrained herself. She truly had. Her divine sense was reciting countless scriptures from all realms; every single word contained the true meaning of the Great Dao, resonating with the laws of nature.
In her view, her recitation just now was already an imitation of the "weak and powerless" state of mortals, suppressing her divine sense to an almost non-existent level. Why is it still not working?
She subconsciously looked outside the glass partition. Lu Xiao was sitting in a chair next to the control panel. He wasn't smiling; his brows were slightly furrowed, and his eyes were focused on her, filled with complete trust and a reassuring "I know you've done your best" attitude.
The slight confusion in Zhuohua's heart vanished instantly. Well, mortals are fragile and cannot comprehend the scale of divine thought. She indifferently shifted her gaze, as if everything that had just happened was merely an insignificant interlude.
Behind the control panel, a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses and with slicked-back hair was Zhao Mingxuan, the deputy director of the artist department.
He watched the whole farce unfold, a sneer of undisguised contempt playing on his lips. He picked up his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message.
Moments later, in "The Break Room Loudspeaker," a large and diverse anonymous gossip group within Xingyao Media, a message exploded like a boulder thrown into stagnant water:
[Anonymous User A (suspected alt account of Zhao Mingxuan)]: Holy crap! Shocking news! In the rooftop training hall, a certain newly minted 'resource-backed' actor has once again lowered the bar! During the physical training class, he almost sent the male actor flying, and made Teacher Qian Min so angry that she threw her script and went berserk! The afternoon's dialogue class was even more outrageous; he recited "Quiet Night Thoughts" with the air of someone ascending to heaven and commanding the world, forcing Professor Zhang to use oxygen on the spot! I just want to ask, with this level of skill, how did he get an S-level contract and top-tier resources? Has the sponsor's financial power become so incredible that he can disregard the basic law? @Everyone, come and judge for yourselves, shouldn't this resource-backed actor get out of the entertainment industry? [Eating popcorn][Eating popcorn][Eating popcorn]
This message was like igniting a powder keg.
[Anonymous User B]: Oh my god! Really? Professor Qian Min and Professor Zhang are known for being very strict. How could they be this angry? That must be outrageous!
[Anonymous User C]: Haha, I told you parachuted-in agents are never good! S-level contract? Top-tier team? Director Su personally protecting them? Do you think we're blind? Who would believe that without some special 'background'? They must have slept with some big shot!
[Anonymous User D]: +1 to the comment above! That Lu Xiao, he looks handsome, but he's probably not a good guy! He should stick with those who have connections! They should all get out of Xingyao! Don't lower our company's standards!
[Anonymous User E]: Exactly! I heard that the Lin family's young master's affair was just a fluke, maybe even a staged event to climb the social ladder! How disgusting! I feel sorry for us ordinary people who work so hard!
[Anonymous User F]: @Anonymous User A Requesting a live stream! Requesting follow-up! Get those with connections out of the entertainment industry! Star Shine is not a dumping ground for trash!
Foul language, malicious speculation, and biting sarcasm surged like a filthy tide under the cover of anonymous groups. Jealousy, resentment, and the anger ignited by the "unfair" allocation of resources poured out unrestrainedly beneath the mask of anonymity.
The phrase "Get out of the entertainment industry" began to flood social media.
Regarding the matter concerning the collection room, Director Lin issued a gag order, and all those in the know remained silent. Although some rumors circulated, they were not true. This led many to believe that the two enjoyed high-level treatment because of their powerful connections.
In the recording studio, Zhuohua was completely oblivious to the malice surging through her phone. She watched as Professor Zhang finally caught his breath and staggered back, ready for the next round of "torture." Professor Zhang looked tragically heroic, like a warrior about to face his death.
Outside the glass wall, Lu Xiao's phone screen lit up briefly. It was a message from his assistant, Xiao Chen, along with several screenshots of anonymous groups, followed by a string of exclamation marks and angry emojis.
Lu Xiao clicked on the image, his gaze sweeping over the obscene anonymous comments. His knuckles gripping the phone tightened instantly, turning bluish-white, and the veins on the back of his hand stood out clearly.
A chilling anger, like a tangible cold current, spread from his straight back. He abruptly raised his head, and through the soundproof glass, his sharp, hawk-like gaze pierced precisely at the slick-haired man behind the control panel, who was looking down at his phone with a smug, cold smile on his lips—Zhao Mingxuan.
Zhao Mingxuan seemed to sense the icy, penetrating gaze, and looked up to meet Lu Xiao's eyes. There was not a trace of the timidity or panic of a newcomer in those eyes, only a calm, all-seeing coldness, and a sense of impending doom.
Zhao Mingxuan's smile froze, and a chill inexplicably rose in his heart.
Lu Xiao shifted his gaze expressionlessly, as if it were just a casual glance. He stood up, his movements steady yet carrying an undeniable sense of power.
He didn't look at Zhuohua in the recording studio anymore. Instead, he turned around, pushed open the heavy soundproof door of the recording studio, and walked out. His steps were steady and his goal was clear. Each step was like stepping on a taut drumhead, silently announcing the arrival of a storm.
Zhuohua, standing in front of the microphone, seemed to sense something. She slightly turned her head, her gaze following Lu Xiao's tall, straight figure as he disappeared through the glass wall into the doorway. Her slender, beautiful eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Zhuohua! Focus!" Professor Zhang's weak voice, still shaken by the ordeal, rang out.
Zhuohua withdrew her gaze and looked again at the poem "Quiet Night Thoughts" that she had almost "recited" to cause a death, and calmly replied, "Hmm." It was as if the monstrous waves that were about to rise outside were insignificant compared to the poem in her hand.
On the seventh floor of the Xingyao Media Building, outside the artists' common rest area, there is a relatively quiet corridor leading to a heavy fire door at the end of the corridor. At this moment, the corridor is dimly lit, with only the emergency lights in the corners emitting a faint green glow.
Just as Zhao Mingxuan reached the vicinity of the fire door, a hand suddenly reached out from the side, with an irresistible force, and precisely gripped his shoulder!
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