Cao, how many goddesses are you actually hiding from us that you're involved with

"Pao'er, I have to say, you’ve got some damn good luck."

"I’ve wanted to buy the rights to the novel AfterShock for ages, but... someone else got there first. Later, Old Su adapted it as the screenwriter."

"You just happened to live long enough to benefit."

"If I’d been born a couple of years earlier, what role would you even have here?"

"And let’s not forget, you owe a big thanks to Producer Yao, Producer Zhao, Producer Hu, and all the lead actors—like your wife, Old Xu..."

"Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re already halfway in the grave, yet you’re still so reckless. Thank god your wife keeps you in check, or else what would you even be?"

"Also, I watched the movie. I won’t dismiss a historical drama just because you directed it."

"Let’s be real—every actor and crew member did an amazing job, worked their asses off. The only weak link was the director."

"If this had been helmed by a proper director, the box office would’ve been way higher, the performances even better... What a waste of a great script."

"Oh, and one more thing,"

"That young actress in the film? Absolutely brilliant. Anyone got her contact info? If so, send it my way. Thanks!"

"..."

The crowd was loving the drama.

A full-on roast session.

Everyone worked hard—except the director, who fell short.

This was a straight-up face-slapping moment.

Pao'er fired back quickly.

Pao'er: "Still running your mouth? Hah, I might’ve had a few too many drinks last night, but my mind’s clear. Let me tell you something—quit yapping and learn your place."

"I won’t even ask you to direct a film, since you clearly can’t."

"Why don’t you invest in one and go head-to-head with me?"

"All talk, no action—what’s the point?"

...

Young Master Cao responded: "Funny you mention it. I just happened to invest in a movie last year, set to release this December. You better watch it, Pao'er."

"I’m not asking for your critique—just for you to learn something."

"Let me show you what original filmmaking looks like. What’s so impressive about adapting someone else’s work? Anyone can do that. It’s the author who wrote well, the screenwriter who adapted brilliantly, the cinematographer who captured the shots, the editor who pieced it together frame by frame, and the entire cast and crew who collaborated—led by the assistant directors, production managers, and producers."

"What do you even do as a director besides yelling ‘cut’ on set?"

"Rumor has it, directors who only know how to yell ‘cut’ end up with rotten teeth."

"..."

...

Crash.

Pao'er lost it.

He smashed a glass.

Soon after.

Cao Cheng posted again.

"I’ve heard people say you held Ge You back—that if he’d taken on other roles sooner, he’d already be China’s top-grossing actor. I didn’t believe it before, but this year, we’ll see."

"December. No backing out. Let the bullets... fly for a while!"

Pao'er shot back: "Enough of your bullshit. In December, I’ve got If You Are the One 2 coming out. Just you wait."

Oh?

Cao Cheng was momentarily speechless.

This guy knew how to hijack the moment for promotion.

Then again.

It’s Pao'er.

People used to call him "Feng Pants."

Only after he started mouthing off for publicity did they nickname him "Little Cannon."

Cao Cheng replied: "See? Recycling old material again? Can’t you come up with something fresh? Something original? Are you so out of ideas that you’re just reheating leftovers? Give it ten years, and you’ll probably dig up Cell Phone to make Cell Phone 2 and cash in, huh?"

"Damn it."

Pao'er was fuming.

This little bastard was playing dirty.

If the "recycling leftovers" label stuck, If You Are the One 2 would be doomed.

What a vicious little shit.

Pao'er snapped: "Call it leftovers all you want—we’ll see. Don’t think just because you’ve latched onto some big shot, you can outdo me at the box office. You’re still green. Movies aren’t your game. December—let’s see who crashes and burns."

"Fine. December. We settle this once and for all!"

Cao Cheng smirked: "Of course, this is a law-abiding society. I’m not betting lives. How about this: Whoever loses in December runs a lap around the moat—buck naked."

"..."

The reporters were ecstatic.

An extra chapter to this feud?

No matter who lost, it’d be front-page news.

The top director.

The top tycoon.

The hype kept growing.

Pao'er stopped responding.

His wife, Old Xu, reined him in.

This kind of attention wasn’t good.

Right now, AfterShock had elevated Pao'er to "god-tier" status.

With his current clout, fighting with Cao Cheng only hurt him.

Meanwhile, Cao Cheng had everything to gain.

After Old Xu laid it out, Pao'er finally realized.

Pao'er sat down, slapping his thigh in frustration—then winced at the pain. "I walked right into that little bastard’s trap."

"That son of a bitch."

"I’ve never met a more shameless upstart in this industry."

"Goddamn it, he’s the worst."

Pao'er had taken a major L.

Old Xu could only sigh.

Little Cannon had always had a temper, though he’d mellowed in recent years. But with Young Master Cao, he couldn’t hold back for a second.

...

Pao'er was done talking.

But Cao Cheng wasn’t letting him off the hook.

Cao Cheng taunted: "What’s wrong? Scared? Washed up? Too old to keep up?"

"Tell you what—I’ll make it even easier. Forget If You Are the One 2. Let’s just compare my December release to your AfterShock."

"That movie hit 600 million at the box office, right? I’ll go up against that. Don’t tell me you’re chickening out now? It’s the highest-grossing domestic film ever, Pao'er. Don’t embarrass yourself."

"If you lose, you don’t even have to run the whole lap—just 100 meters naked. Not too exhausting. Well? You in?"

"A real Beijinger wouldn’t back down."

"If you’re too scared, just come over and call me ‘grandpa.’"

"..."

This guy was relentless.

Way over the line.

Even the reporters felt secondhand hype, furiously drafting their headlines.

Major drama.

This was huge.

After a long pause, Pao'er replied: "Fine. December. Bring it. Everyone’s watching."

"Now that’s more like it. December it is." Cao Cheng fired back instantly.

...

Back at Pao'er’s place.

Old Xu sighed. "I told you not to respond."

"He pushed me too far!" Pao'er jabbed a finger at the screen. "That little shit was practically spitting in my face. You expect me to stay quiet?"

"Besides, pride comes before a fall."

"Honestly, I’m not even worried about If You Are the One 2, let alone AfterShock."

"600 million at the box office, and it’s still in theaters. Over 600 million... What’s there to fear?"

"How could I possibly lose?"

"If I didn’t respond, even as the ‘top director,’ I’d never live it down."

A true Beijinger’s pride was on the line.

Old Xu knew that.

All she could do was sigh.

"You said there was never any bad blood between you two, so how did things end up like this?"

"..."

Pao'er was stunned.

Yeah.

No grudges, no resentment.

Then why?

When did the trash-talking start?

Whatever.

Since they're already enemies, does the reason even matter?

Over the years, he hadn’t held back from mocking Pao'er, especially about his teeth—that alone was unforgivable.

So,

the original reason for their feud didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that the guy kept bringing up his damn teeth.

Little bastard.

Come year-end, I’ll personally hunt you down, drag you to the moat, and if you dare weasel out, I’ll skin you alive.

Then you’ll see what a true Beijing tough guy is made of.

Pao'er imagined how sweet it would feel to win the bet by year’s end.

Though,

he was just hyping himself up in his head.

Young Master Cao’s status was undeniable. Even if Cao Cheng tried to back out, Pao'er couldn’t really do much—but the kid’s reputation would be ruined.

Then Pao'er could taunt him whenever he pleased.

What good is being the richest man if no one trusts your word?

You’d still be the talk of the town—for all the wrong reasons.

At this point, Pao'er didn’t even consider the possibility of losing.

Lose?

Not a chance.

Six billion was an insurmountable gap.

Sure, future films might break records—Pao'er believed that too. Maybe even crack ten billion someday.

But this year?

Sorry.

This year belongs to Pao'er!

...

Honestly, his confidence wasn’t unfounded.

This year really was Pao'er’s year.

His two films combined had grossed over a billion, an insane feat that made him the talk of the industry.

Too bad~~

he ran into a damn cheater.

The summer box office was wild.

And packed.

Plenty of movies, plenty of variety shows.

The Voice stuck to its first-season formula, barely changing a thing.

Cao Cheng knew these shows inside out—no need to tweak the early seasons. Just polish the basics, go all out, and fans would stay hooked.

Save the changes for later, when the novelty wore off, and keep cashing in.

...

Summer ended.

Lingling blew up.

After her ‘failed confession,’ she still kept in touch with Young Master Cao, but her focus shifted to her career.

A single ‘Enlightenment Pill’ from him had propelled her to virtuoso status.

Mastery.

Her skills now rivaled the old lady’s prime.

A piece Cao Cheng gave her, Wild Bees, turned her into the ‘International Piano Goddess.’

She swept global awards.

Eclipsing all others, she became China’s youngest piano prodigy.

There’d been one before her.

But Lingling had wider connections, was a girl, and her talent was downright unreal...

Within a month, she was the nation’s sweetheart.

No surprise—

this year’s Spring Festival Gala would feature her solo.

And,

Lingling’s fame dragged Young Master Cao back into the spotlight.

No clue how reporters dug it up, but they resurrected an old tabloid headline:

Youngest Billionaire’s Secret Date with His Girl

Back then, it barely made waves.

Now? Different story.

International Piano Goddess.

China’s Youngest Piano Prodigy.

The Youngest Billionaire.

Mash those labels together, and viral fame was inevitable.

Fans lost it.

“Cao, how many goddesses are you hiding from us?”

“Cao, how many goddesses are you hiding from us? x10086!”

The hashtag exploded overnight.

Not long after the ‘Fourth Sister’ scandal,

now a piano goddess?

Each one stunning—perfect looks, insane talent, elite backgrounds.

All tied to Young Master Cao.

He’s the worst.

The absolute worst!