Chapter 857: Chapter 357: Why Must the Entertainment Industry Beg Me to Make a Scene? _2

“I get it, Huai.”

Chu Changkuo nodded vigorously, then full of energy, went off to practice his new song.

Sao Ji and Yu Yangyang found his transformation hard to adapt to.

“This kid doesn’t even bother with relationships anymore. The other day, I saw a senior girl chasing after him, and he straight-up ignored her. Any free time he has, he’s either practicing songs or rehearsing live streams. This is just bizarre…”

Xia Yu said leisurely, “That senior girl is about to go act in films. With such a role model ahead, what’s wrong with him being fired up?”

“True.” Sao Ji sighed and nodded. “Reaching the peak as an internet celebrity–whew, that’s impressive…”

“Wrong! It’s just the senior girl that’s impressive.”

Yu Yangyang was smug, not someone who typically flaunted things, but he certainly had the credentials to now.

Freshman year wasn’t even over, yet he’d saved up over 800,000 yuan, risen alongside the senior girl, gained status and fame within the department, and had girls crushing on him left and right. How could that not count as success?

As for the golden girl, well, there was no need to mention her.

Her management team had received over 200 scripts–movies, dramas, web series, online films…

All mainly because her image stood alone as one of a kind.

More alluring than Liu Yan, more beautiful than Liu Yan. Although she looked a bit “too substantial” on the big screen, that broader face was still stunningly gorgeous, exuding sensuality and seduction.

There wasn’t a second person like her in this niche.

It’s just a pity that neither Su Huai nor she herself had any desire to dive deeper into the entertainment industry.

The reason was simple–it was impossible to hit the A-list.

Her image was too limiting. She could only play certain types of roles. Lead protagonist? Don’t even think about it.

So Su Huai’s core idea was to take on good roles for special appearances, treating it as a means to expand her reputation and elevate her prestige, while spending most of her time still rooted in the live streaming world.

Currently, three movies were roughly confirmed: “Wandering Earth,” “The Captain,” and “Pegasus.”

All were minor cameo roles, credits tagged with “Special Appearance,” “Special Thanks,” or “Guest Appearance.”

The production companies valued Pei Shuyu’s popularity and fans, while Su Huai saw their influence–mutual benefits at play.

All three films were box office hits. If she managed even effective screen time, Pei Shuyu’s prestige would skyrocket to the top.

When it came to acting, Su Huai wasn’t the least bit worried about his golden girl.

Let’s not forget, whose shoulders did his [naturalistic acting technique] explode from?

So the golden girl was fully capable of handling any supporting role. Su Huai had even made a special request that her billing rank only comes after the lead and that a solo “Special Thanks” line be included.

This was just branching into another field for fun, not becoming someone’s lackey.

In this industry, small details mattered. Overlooking them could cost you, with fan wars over actor rankings reaching the point of insanity. Getting smeared or dragged over such trivial matters wasn’t worth it…

In terms of pay, they only charged transportation costs, planning to just wrap filming quickly and be done with it.

At the moment, only “Wandering Earth” had started production. It was being shot at the Qingdao studio. When the golden girl went to sign the contract, Su Huai tagged along out of curiosity and had a brief chat with Guo Fan, which almost led to him being recruited as the male lead…

At the time, Su Huai was stunned: “Wait, dude, you’ve already started production but suddenly want to change the male lead?!”

What kind of lunacy was this?

Guo Fan spread his hands with a pained expression: “What male lead? We’re still looking!”

“Huh? Then why are you rolling the cameras?”

“Who said you need a confirmed male lead to start filming? This is legit hardcore sci-fi; we didn’t even plan to shoot lead scenes during early production. We’ll figure it out gradually.”

Guo Daji adopted the tone of a Big Bad Wolf sweet-talking Little Red Riding Hood, tirelessly persuading Su Huai: “Come on, try out our equipment, maybe test out a scene or two?”

“I’m not trying anything. I’m not that curious.”

Su Huai decisively waved him off. What kind of self-torture would it take to willingly wear dozens of pounds of metal armor in sweltering heat?

But Guo Fan wouldn’t let go: “Huai, the second I saw you, I felt this crazy sense of kinship. We’re hometown buddies, aren’t we? Give your bro a favor and give it a shot! With a face like this, not leaving a mark on the big screen would be such a waste!”

Honestly, Guo Fan was practically drooling over Su Huai!

And it wasn’t just him; the production team had gathered around, marveling.

“The body proportions, the face, the bone structure–wow, naturally born for stardom. Unreal!”

“Hey, why didn’t you apply to Beijing Film Academy?”

Su Huai laughed helplessly, countering, “I’m from Heilongjiang. Hearing how you flip sentence structures–it’s obvious you’re from Shandong. What kind of hometown buddies are we?”

Guo Fan chuckled sheepishly but shamelessly continued pulling at him.

“Huai, are you really not interested in acting? If not, could you at least cameo for a few days? Please?”

Damn, this guy was beyond thirsty. Once he found something good, he just wouldn’t let go.

Well, I’m not coming in for a cameo. Everyone knows how a “Wolf Warrior” cameo ended up becoming the second male lead.

Seeing Guo Fan’s desperation, Su Huai had a reasonably good idea of what was going on.

“Brother Guo, be straight with me–are you short on funds? I don’t see what else I could offer for you to be so fixated.”

He didn’t know much about “Wandering Earth”‘s exact situation, but judging by appearances, it looked like a broke project.

“Heh, heh heh…”

Guo Fan chuckled dryly and explained, “Of course we’re short on funds. Shooting high-budget industrial sci-fi–it’s impossible for the current investments to be enough. But I’m genuinely interested in you. You’d be perfect for this male lead!”

What kind of person looks great on the big screen isn’t some mysterious art form.

For photographers, directors, and seasoned producers in real life, a single glance can determine with about 90% accuracy.

Gou Huai’s face was like it was created with cheats. It was based on real-world aesthetics, but even if screen presence deducted two points, it would still be a perfect 97.

“Wandering Earth,” this “ragtag group,” was boldly pursuing a sci-fi concept no one believed in. To cast a visually stunning, independently wealthy newbie as their leading man was far from a loss for them.

Su Huai recalled this movie ended up making a fortune, so he readily agreed to contribute financially but declined the male lead role.

“I didn’t plan to gain that kind of fame. But seeing the effort you’ve poured into this film–it’s touching. How much funding are you still short? I can invest.”

Finally, Guo Fan stopped pestering him about the male lead and started extracting funds from him instead.

Currently, the film only had two major investors: China Film, Beijing Film Academy, and Yida was in talks, but the exact future was unclear.

The only issue was that Xingyu had money but no other film resources.

So while Guo Fan wanted his money, he couldn’t offer equivalent value in return. He’d have to sit down with China Film and Beijing Film Academy for negotiations.

Su Huai, too lazy to waste time haggling, said instead, “Whatever you’re short of later, just come to me directly, okay?”

And so, the matter was settled.

When Su Huai returned home, he didn’t feel like he’d passed up some extraordinary opportunity.

A 99-level appearance plus near-full acting skills–sure, it was a shame not to leave a timeless role behind, but the male lead in “Wandering Earth” clearly wouldn’t qualify as timeless. Meh.

Back at the office, he mentioned this to Gu Jiuyue, who was unfazed, but it made Quanquan green with envy.

“Ugh, a chance I’d die dreaming for, and you’re treating it like a discarded shoe…”

Su Huai gave her slender but utterly unremarkable face a sidelong glance and bluntly jabbed at her ego: “Even if you hold yourself to the standard of a discarded shoe, that’s still giving yourself a bit too much credit. Be a good girl and focus on making videos.”

Quanquan was so mad she swelled up–swelled to an A-cup.

Before stomping out in a huff, she deliberately whined to Gu Jiuyue: “You’d better rein this guy in. If it’s not Pei Shuyu, then it’s Tang Xian’er. Every day he hangs around with some busty chick, like he can’t survive without one. So shameless!”

Gu Jiuyue blinked her bright eyes curiously, asking him, “Hey, Susu, do you really prefer big ones?”

Gou Huai started sweating down his back…

“Don’t listen to her nonsense. I’m an honest, clean, upright person. Hello? What’s up?”

The call from Alex couldn’t have come at a better time, practically saving his life. Alex wanted to know if Su Huai would come check out his boy group.

“It’s done? Sure, I’ll go take a look.”

In truth, Su Huai had zero hope for the boy group. What could 10 million yuan achieve in the entertainment industry?

But he had to go and show he cared.

“Hey, Gugu, Alex pulled off the boy group. Xingyu has taken yet another step forward in its comprehensive strategy. Wanna come with me to check it out?”

Gu Jiuyue instantly lost interest upon hearing “boy group.” Never one to force herself to stick by Su Huai’s side, she obediently said, “Go ahead, I’ll stay back and read.”

Once Gou Huai left the house, he finally exhaled in relief and headed downstairs leisurely.

But arriving at the designated practice room, standing by the window to look inside…

Holy crap!

Wait a minute–how did you manage to bring them here?!