When Geng Bochuan uttered those words, the pent-up anger that his manager had barely managed to suppress flared up again. He slapped him on the body, his voice cracking: “You really have some nerve! Look at the trouble you’ve caused!”
“I can’t control you anymore. When we get back, we’ll settle this properly. We’re parting ways. You can have whoever you want as your manager. I’m done with this!”
The slapped Geng Bochuan was evidently accustomed to his manager’s outbursts. After saying those words, he didn’t defend himself but continued memorizing his lines, calmly ignoring the scolding.
Ye Zhou, who had witnessed the whole incident, pursed his lips in a slight smile and said, “What’s with the big fuss? Who offended our esteemed Mr. Fang? Tell me what happened, and I’ll help you deal with it.”
Geng Bochuan’s manager looked at Ye Zhou like he was a savior, immediately rushing over with an indescribable expression as he viciously complained about his artist’s misdeeds.
“Director Ye, you finally came. Last night, Xi Yang caused trouble by slandering you. Our Chuan, this simpleton, reacted foolishly. He posted thirteen Weibo posts at two or three in the morning, attacking Xi Yang.”
“He really went overboard. Those long-winded posts looked like scholarly essays! You’d think I manage a literary genius, not an artist!”
As Ye Zhou listened, he took out his phone and found Geng Bochuan’s Weibo. Even with mental preparation, he was still stunned. The manager hadn’t lied – Geng Bochuan had indeed posted thirteen Weibo posts in a row.
Eight of them directly named and criticized Xi Yang, while three attacked the media, and two targeted Xi Yang’s manager.
Each Weibo post contained at least one or two hundred words. Due to character limits, Geng Bochuan had directly taken screenshots from notes and posted them, making them resemble small essays.
The sarcastic language, both overt and covert, seemed to burst from the screen. Yet, Geng Bochuan managed to avoid using any profanity throughout. Especially in the posts criticizing Xi Yang, the biting words and sarcasm seemed to directly target Xi Yang’s weaknesses.
“Whoa, Xiao Geng, you…” Ye Zhou, after reading all the Weibo posts, finally understood why the manager was so agitated.
He lightly tapped Geng Bochuan’s head with the script and said, “You’re really bold. As a public figure, how could you make such statements?”
Geng Bochuan playfully dodged and said, “Director Ye, please don’t misunderstand. Don’t listen to Lao Fang’s nonsense. I criticized Xi Yang simply because I couldn’t stand him. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, nothing to do with you or the crew.”
The manager rolled his eyes again, wishing he could stuff something in Geng Bochuan’s mouth. Now that the line had been drawn and Xi Yang had been provoked, the media and haters had also been offended. If he couldn’t brag in front of Ye Zhou, he should at least show some acknowledgment.
But this idiot, instead of taking credit, was trying to distance himself from the situation.
However, this was expected. The manager knew his artist too well. Although Geng Bochuan’s behavior often made him furious, wasn’t this personality the reason he stayed?
The manager sighed, putting aside his cunning calculations, and resignedly agreed, “Yes, yes, he’s just rash and hot-tempered. He’ll learn his lesson after a few setbacks. You don’t need to worry about him!”
Although they tried to distance themselves, Ye Zhou could see that Geng Bochuan’s actions were meant to stand up for him.
Before Geng Bochuan could react, Ye Zhou held his shoulder with his left hand and quickly flicked his forehead with his right index finger.
“Don’t be so reckless. I paid a lot to bring you here to act, not to get into fights.” Ye Zhou said, taking back his hand and tossing the script back into Geng Bochuan’s arms. “Study well and try to wrap up early today.”
Geng Bochuan rubbed his forehead and watched Ye Zhou’s retreating back. He suddenly shouted loudly, “Director Ye!”
Ye Zhou didn’t turn around, his voice slightly lazy, “The latter part of what you just said isn’t quite right. It should be changed to ‘acting is what you should be doing.'”
“But the first part is fine. Solving problems is my job. Let’s all focus and try to finish early. After all, I still need to go solve some problems.”
The implicit confidence and aura contained in Ye Zhou’s words were enough to restabilize the wavering spirits caused by the online allegations.
The entire crew took a deep breath after Ye Zhou’s statement and further compressed the already tight shooting schedule. Even during the lunch break, not a single person mentioned resting – when Ye Zhou suggested it, he was immediately advised against it by a group of crew members.
Their hard work paid off. The already highly efficient and well-coordinated crew achieved astonishing productivity that day. The scenes originally scheduled to be shot in one day were completed by 3 PM.
Ye Zhou was practically chased out of the crew. As soon as the shooting ended, Assistant Director Meng shoved him out.
Standing at the entrance of the set, Assistant Director Meng waved impatiently at Ye Zhou, “Go, go, hurry up and leave. I’ll keep an eye on things. We have plenty of people here and don’t need you. Don’t come back until you’ve settled everything.”
Ye Zhou: “……”
Although well-intentioned, those words somehow sounded unpleasant.
After being kicked out of the crew, Ye Zhou took a taxi home. On the way, he used his phone to check on the progress of Xi Yang’s situation, wondering how far the drama had unfolded.
Xi Yang did not disappoint Ye Zhou’s expectations. After setting the stage the previous afternoon, things began brewing late at night. First, a popular domestic forum saw a post titled “Let’s take a look at the hardworking celebrities in the industry. Who do you feel most sorry for?”
Initially, the post was quite normal, with people nominating celebrities they considered hardworking, maintaining a harmonious atmosphere. Until a user with the ID “A Duck That Can’t Talk,” claiming to be an industry insider, dropped a bombshell revelation.
A Duck That Can’t Talk: I’m an industry insider with vested interests. I didn’t initially want to say too much, but recent events have really angered me, so let me briefly discuss what’s been happening in our crew.
The director of our crew is a relatively unknown second-tier director domestically. While his abilities are unimpressive, his terrible temper is infamous. Rumor has it that the initial investors couldn’t stand the director and withdrew their funding before shooting began.
After much difficulty, new investors were found, and the movie finally started production recently. Let’s call the two lead actors “Little G” and “Little X.” Little G took the dark, edgy route. Although his acting skills are poor, he has a sweet tongue and a good relationship with the director.
The other lead, Little X, is one of the rare skilled actors of the younger generation – the diligent, down-to-earth type. His acting is excellent, but he’s not as articulate, so the director doesn’t favor him as much as Little G. That’s the premise.
During the first month of shooting, Little G’s poor acting skills frequently slowed down the crew’s progress. Kind-hearted Little X helped Little G a lot. To assist the director in catching up, Little X worked extremely hard that month, taking on an excessive workload.
Perhaps due to that, at the beginning of the second month, Little X suddenly fell ill. His complexion and condition were poor, yet he persisted in acting while sick. I asked him then why he didn’t request leave from the director to go to the hospital. He kept saying it was nothing and didn’t want to trouble anyone, showing what a gentle person he is.
Later, I realized he continued working while sick and avoided the hospital because the director refused to grant him leave, even threatening to consider it unauthorized absence if he took time off – it was outright bullying.
Little X worked while sick for about a week before finally collapsing at the hotel and being rushed to the hospital by his manager. During his hospitalization, he tried to request leave from the director but discovered the director had blocked him…
After ensuring Little X was settled, his manager went to the set to request leave from the director but was met with cold sarcasm, with the director insinuating that Little X’s recent state was poor, and he was frequently late, leaving early, and taking unauthorized absences.
Little X’s manager patiently explained the situation to the director for a long time. However, the director was extremely impatient, saying unless Little X appeared on set within half an hour, he would be replaced. Even as a bystander, I felt terrible listening to that.
Still, Little X’s manager remained calm, negotiating with the director and informing him that Little X had just received an IV drip at the hospital and asking if he could come after completing it.
The director scoffed and, to humiliate Little X and his manager, randomly pointed at an extra on set, saying, “You play Little X’s role.”
(I only learned later from others that the extra apparently had an intimate relationship with the director. The director’s mistreatment of Little X was to force him out and give that minor extra a leading role – it was quite a drama.)
When Little X’s manager informed him about being replaced, he rushed to the set without even completing the IV drip, apologizing meekly to the director. He promised never to request leave again and begged the director, considering all the effort and preparation invested, not to let the previous investments go to waste.
Do you know what the director said? He audaciously claimed he didn’t care about that amount of money. For a small-time director to make such a statement, I was dumbfounded. I wonder if the investor would be furious enough to bash his dog head after learning how their money was squandered. My condolences to the investor.
It’s truly heartbreaking for Little X, such a hardworking and good-natured actor to be treated this way. It’s outright bullying. Although I have little influence, I can at least share this so more people are aware.
Lastly, I hope Little X recovers soon. This movie and director don’t deserve you. With your kindness, better opportunities will definitely come. Stay strong!
This revelation was like a drop of water falling into hot oil, instantly sparking huge discussions. The comments were filled with consolation for the original poster, sympathy for Little X, and insults towards the terrible director.
Although “A Duck That Can’t Talk” used heavy coding, the power of crowds prevailed. Combined with the news that broke in the evening, people quickly matched Xi Yang to the “Little X” in the post.
Since Xi Yang was Little X, the rest was easy to guess. The poorly skilled and edgy Little G was soon identified as Geng Bochuan. As for the crazy director, it was naturally Ye Zhou, who had already been heavily criticized on the afternoon news.
Thanks to Xi Yang’s team’s efforts, this originally niche gossip post quickly appeared on the forum’s front page. As more people watched, the situation escalated further.
Multiple media outlets republished the story, further expanding its reach. The battlefield shifted from forums to Weibo. After simmering overnight and through the morning, with Geng Bochuan directly confronting Xi Yang on Weibo, Ye Zhou easily found his name among Weibo’s hot searches without much effort.
After witnessing the whole drama, if Ye Zhou wasn’t personally involved, he might have believed Xi Yang’s team’s half-truth, half-fiction story – that Xi Yang was a pitiful, hardworking victim, while Ye Zhou was a vicious director favoring his lover.
Ye Zhou refreshed the hot search and immediately made a new discovery: #XiYangManager# appeared in his view.
Clicking into it, he saw the top post was from a verified Xi Yang manager account with 30,000 followers.
Manager Liao V: Thank you all for your concern for Xi Yang. We have terminated our cooperation with the production team. [Image]
Xi Yang’s manager’s Weibo post seemed to comfort fans but actually poured oil on the raging fire, implicitly confirming Xi Yang was the “Little X” in the post.
Moreover, the project name on the contract image was censored carelessly, making it easy to discern it was “Chasing the Light.”
After reading it, Ye Zhou felt Xi Yang’s team was truly audacious, intent on crushing him without leaving any room for reconciliation.
They seemed to have concluded he was just a small director, repeatedly pouring dirty water on him, certain he would be speechless and unwilling to speak up.
Looking at the insults and curses flooding the comments under his Weibo, any director without a strong background or psychological resilience would likely crumble under Xi Yang’s team’s tactics and compromise.
Ye Zhou believed that since Xi Yang’s team dared go this far, they must have prepared more so-called “evidence.”
He guessed that if he came out to clarify now and presented proof of Xi Yang’s absences, tardiness, and despicable behavior on set, Xi Yang’s side would surely use illness as an excuse, perhaps even fabricating medical records.
With illness as an excuse, it could both portray Ye Zhou as a heartless director and provide a reasonable explanation for the evidence against Xi Yang, greatly reducing its credibility. It was a brilliant maneuver.
But Ye Zhou wasn’t afraid. He had long prepared a countermove – what was there to fear?
After returning home, Ye Zhou opened his computer and logged into his Weibo, uploading the long-awaited videos, audio recordings, surveillance footage, and other materials one by one, scheduling their release times.
Ye Zhou V: 1 [Video]
Ye Zhou V: 2 [Video]
Ye Zhou V: 3 [Video]
Ye Zhou V: 4 [Image][Image][Image]
…
After setting the schedule to automatically post one update every ten minutes, Ye Zhou stretched lazily and glanced at the clock on the wall. Having rushed through the day’s work at noon, he was a bit hungry and decided to reward himself by making a crispy pork casserole.
While he busied himself in the kitchen, his Weibo had already exploded from the videos and audio clips he posted.
The first video was from when the movie had just started filming. Ye Zhou clipped a scene between Xi Yang and Geng Bochuan. Even a layperson could clearly see their acting skills were on par.
If there was a noticeable difference, perhaps Geng Bochuan lacked Xi Yang’s experience, but his high affinity with the character Cheng Ye more than made up for it – he was essentially acting himself.
Upon closer observation, it was Xi Yang who fell slightly short in their shared scenes.
The video’s date and timestamp were visible in the bottom-right corner. Anyone willing to look would easily find this was from the first few days of filming, aligning with the whistleblower post’s timeline. There was no way Xi Yang could have been ill then.
With the timeline matching up and Geng Bochuan’s laudable performance in the video, there was no sign of his so-called poor acting dragging down progress as claimed. In fact, Geng Bochuan slightly outshone Xi Yang.
This rendered the claim that Xi Yang overworked himself to make up for Geng Bochuan’s sluggish pace completely baseless, dismantling the rumor.
Geng Bochuan’s fans erupted in fury after seeing their idol perform so well yet be slandered so terribly.
Known for his reputation as the “King of Feuds” in the industry, Geng Bochuan’s fans were exceptionally combative. They constantly fought alongside their idol on the frontlines of feuds, and their fighting prowess was unmatched by ordinary fans.
Geng Bochuan’s fans single-handedly held their ground against the onslaught of haters and paid trolls, even gaining a slight upper hand.
The second video showed the first half of Xi Yang’s cringeworthy alleyway fight scene with the extras playing thugs, as well as Ye Zhou’s ruthless criticism, harshly denouncing his overacting. The second half contrasted Xi Yang’s performance with that of the extra Duan Jingyuan’s take on the same scene.
Both the video and the set’s surveillance footage clearly displayed dates and times, proving the extra’s performance came only ten minutes after Xi Yang’s, ruling out the possibility of the extra rehearsing and reshooting the scene later.
The third video began with Xi Yang’s audition, where he sat meekly after his performance as the assistant director confirmed his availability. Xi Yang stated he would soon wrap up a detective film, leaving his schedule wide open.
The latter half was an audio clip of a conversation between Ye Zhou and the detective film’s director. Ye Zhou confirmed Xi Yang’s role had only completed one-third of filming at most and wouldn’t wrap until April at the earliest.
No elaborate calculations were needed to see that “Chasing the Light” conflicted with the detective film’s schedule, with Xi Yang, as the lead of “Chasing the Light,” repeatedly shuttling between the two crews.
But there was more. In the fourth Weibo post, Ye Zhou simply shared a few pictures packed with damning information.
The first two were group photos from a crew’s production launch ceremony. To ensure viewers could identify Xi Yang, Ye Zhou circled his face. Although the photos lacked timestamps, those in the front row held a banner with white text on a red background:
“Celebrating the auspicious launch of the film ‘Falling Into Your Embrace’ – 2026.12.26.”
The subsequent images were stills and behind-the-scenes photos from the verified Weibo account of “Falling Into Your Embrace.” Based on their posting dates, the filming coincided with “Chasing the Light’s” production period.
Anyone remotely familiar with the entertainment industry would know that if Ye Zhou’s evidence was real, Xi Yang’s misconduct was indisputable.
Acting in these many concurrent projects defied Xi Yang’s so-called dedicated persona, instantly discrediting it. This wasn’t dedication; it was self-destruction.
Initially, Xi Yang was quite cautious while filming, but there are no completely airtight secrets in such a small industry circle – such actions would inevitably leave traces behind.
His team had actually made efforts to cover for Xi Yang, sparing no expense to seek the cooperation and silence of the crews from the other two films, attempting to erase any trace of his misconduct.
However, Ye Zhou acted much faster than they anticipated. Xi Yang’s team only began cleaning up evidence after their fallout, while Ye Zhou had started collecting proof long before that.
Whether audio, videos, or screenshots, they had been prepared well in advance. Even though the “Falling Into Your Embrace” official Weibo account deleted the pictures and videos featuring Xi Yang, Ye Zhou had preemptively saved copies.
At this point, public opinion had largely reversed. The people who were eating melons, who previously sympathized with Xi Yang, were now jolted awake by Ye Zhou’s revelations, realizing they had been deceived and launching a counterattack.
Having defended Xi Yang with kind words earlier, they now despised him, wishing they could tear off the top of his skull.
Another ten minutes passed, and just when the audience thought Ye Zhou had unleashed all his thunder, he dropped one final bolt from the blue.
This last Weibo post contained an audio recording from the day Xi Yang was replaced, capturing his threats and intimidation towards Duan Jingyuan, as well as the heated argument between Xi Yang and Ye Zhou before their bitter parting – not a single word was missed.
After eating his fill and washing the dishes, Ye Zhou returned to his computer, unsurprised to find his and Xi Yang’s names shoulder-to-shoulder atop the hot search rankings.
Ye Xiaozhou, who had eaten and drank enough, clicked on Xi Yang’s topic first. Under his barrage of revelations, Xi Yang and his manager’s Weibo accounts were overwhelmed by furious commenters.
Ironically, the consoling and encouraging comments showered with likes not long ago remained at the top.
Clicking into his own Weibo, Ye Zhou found it amusing that after the release of “A Farce”, he was experiencing another surge in new followers, the terrifying speed even outpacing the film’s release period.
Stifling a yawn as drowsiness crept in, Ye Zhou was about to close Weibo when he noticed a private message had arrived.
Since “A Farce”, Ye Zhou had restricted Weibo interactions to only those he followed, which was a very short list.
To his surprise, the private message was from Boss Jiang, whose Weibo had lain dormant for years!
Jiang Tingyuan: The investor isn’t angry, in fact they want to increase their investment.
Ye Zhou froze for a few seconds before realizing Boss Jiang was referring to the post’s line about the investor being furious enough to “bash his dog head” over squandering funds, erupting into uncontrollable laughter.
After finally calming down, Ye Zhou’s fingers flew across the keyboard. He racked his brain to compose a longwinded, flattering response. After multiple revisions to ensure no issues, he hesitated to hit send.
Reconsidering, Ye Zhou deleted the long-winded buttering-up and retyped a simple yet enthusiastic few words instead:
Mwaah!
After sending it, Ye Zhou unconsciously imagined Boss Jiang’s reaction to his reply. He suppressed his laughter until he could no longer hold it in, doubling over on his chair and guffawing.
Once the laughter subsided, Ye Zhou screenshotted Boss Jiang’s message, censoring the profile picture before posting:
Ye Zhou V: Don’t ask, it means I’m not short on money! [Image]
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