Smelling like a seductive vixen

"Master, which path do you think suits Wang Yue best? If you were to arrange it, how would you guide her?"

On the way back to the city, Lin Zhi took the initiative to ask for her good friend.

The other girls usually made their own decisions.

But Lin Zhi knew that Cao Cheng understood the market and the entertainment industry far better than they did.

His advice would undoubtedly be more valuable than their own random guesses.

It was only for Wang Yue, though.

For anyone else, Lin Zhi wouldn’t have bothered asking—this was her using her own favor.

"Quite the little schemer, aren’t you?" Cao Cheng tapped her forehead lightly.

Lin Zhi put on an innocent grin and teased, "No matter how clever I am, I can never escape Master’s sharp eyes."

She had grown up.

The past three months had truly changed her.

The old her would never have spoken like this.

In comparison,

Wang Yue was a bit more naive.

Cao Cheng thought for a moment, then suddenly let his gaze linger on Wang Yue’s chest.

Hmm~~

Not bad.

The girl had slender limbs, but where it counted, she was undeniably well-endowed.

Cao Cheng spoke up, "How’s your acting and line delivery?"

Wang Yue replied, "Not bad."

"Not bad? So just average?"

"Huh?"

Cao Cheng narrowed his eyes. "What about singing?"

"I’m a bit tone-deaf."

"..."

Cao Cheng looked surprised. "Then aren’t you useless? All you can do is dance?"

Wang Yue pouted indignantly. "I’m a great dancer! Just a tiny bit worse than Lin Zhi."

Cao Cheng sighed.

After a pause, he asked, "What do you want to do?"

Wang Yue hesitated for several seconds before mumbling, "I want to be an actress."

"Then why slack off? Why not work harder on your acting and lines?"

"I did work hard! I never said I was average—I said I was decent!" Wang Yue defended herself.

Cao Cheng nodded in sudden understanding.

So he had misunderstood?

"Well, if you say you’re decent, I’ll give you a chance later. After we get out of the car, I’ll test your acting."

"Fine." Wang Yue was somewhat confident.

She hadn’t compared herself to professional actors,

but among her peers, she genuinely felt her acting was good.

After all, she’d always had a knack for performance and picked things up quickly.

As for music—that required innate talent.

Her singing was inconsistent, sometimes decent, sometimes painfully off-key.

...

Back at the dorm,

which had shared rooms,

Lin Zhi settled in to watch the show, casually brewing a cup of tea for Cao Cheng—her own stash, a gift from him.

Wang Yue squared her shoulders boldly. "Alright, let’s do this."

Cao Cheng glanced at her and said, "Here’s the test. I’ll act opposite you. You play a girl being harassed, and I’ll be the thug. At some point, you scream for help, and I’ll say, 'No one’s coming to save you, no matter how loud you scream!'"

"..."

"..."

Both girls were stunned.

Was this really an acting test?

Pfft—

Lin Zhi couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Wang Yue, however, stammered, "Uh, maybe not? How am I supposed to act that out?"

"You can’t even handle something this simple? And you call yourself decent?" Cao Cheng feigned shock.

Wang Yue protested, "It’s not about being simple! It’s just… you’re doing this on purpose!"

"Nonsense! Everyone knows I, Cao Cheng, am a gentleman. How dare you accuse me? Careful, or I’ll sue for slander."

"..." Wang Yue fumed.

Cao Cheng smirked. "Fine, I’ll lower the difficulty. I’ll pin you against the wall, and you act like you’ve had a crush on me forever, finally getting what you want—nervous, but also sweet. Easy, right?"

Wang Yue wanted to curse.

Easy?!

The first scenario was straightforward—just react naturally.

But this? It required nuanced emotional expression, eyes that could speak.

How many actors could actually pull that off?

"Confident?"

"No. But I’ll try."

Cao Cheng was just teasing her,

while also checking if her acting was any good.

He found a blank wall in the bedroom.

Lin Zhi was tasked with filming—performance under the camera was different from without.

As Lin Zhi picked up the handheld camcorder,

Wang Yue suddenly felt pressure, her body tensing.

Cao Cheng gave her no time to hesitate.

He pinned her against the wall—

Wang Yue bumped into it, wincing slightly from the impact.

Then she found herself face-to-face with his annoyingly handsome features.

A crush…

Honestly, which of the girls here hadn’t had one?

Especially for someone like Cao Cheng,

who treated them all so well. It was impossible not to feel something.

A faint blush quickly spread across Wang Yue’s cheeks.

Shyness.

Her eyes lowered, as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

Lin Zhi zoomed in with the camera.

Cao Cheng finally delivered his lines, adopting the tone of a smug protagonist:

"So you’re Wang Yue? Heard you’ve got a thing for me, huh? Chubby cheeks!"

"..."

"..."

Lin Zhi’s grip on the camera wavered.

What kind of ridiculous line was that?!

Wang Yue instantly looked up, eyes flashing with irritation. "I am not chubby!"

"Cut—!"

Cao Cheng yelled, "Emotions, actress! Focus on the emotions! A crush, understand? Don’t let your co-star’s lines throw you off. If you can’t handle this, how do you expect to make it as an actress? Dream on."

Wang Yue’s lips twitched. She wanted to quit.

This guy was absolutely messing with her.

But…

For her future,

she took a deep breath, sobering up slightly from the alcohol earlier.

Take two.

"So you’re Wang Yue? Heard you’ve got a thing for me, huh? Chubby cheeks!"

"..."

Lin Zhi stifled a laugh, shoulders shaking, the camera footage wobbling.

Wang Yue, now prepared, forced herself to show a shy, lovestruck expression, eyes downcast, silent.

But silence worked—shy infatuation meant no reply.

Cao Cheng chuckled. "Fine. I’ll give you a chance. Lose ten pounds, then come find me. Look at these cheeks—so pinchable..."

He reached out and squeezed one.

Normally, such a gesture would be affectionate.

Now, it was pure provocation.

Wang Yue nearly lost it again but forced herself to lower her head further.

"Alright."

"You pass."

Cao Cheng stopped teasing her.

Not that he could actually judge her acting—this was all just for fun.

But one thing stood out:

That initial blush and shyness had felt genuine, natural.

That was rare.

If he hadn’t deliberately riled her up, the scene might’ve been perfect.

At least good enough for a cheesy romance drama.

"Get some rest, chubby cheeks. Wait for your assignment."

With that,

Cao Cheng slipped away, a trail of emotional energy chasing after him before vanishing into his body.

He wasn’t worried about Wang Yue rebelling.

She’d only acted bold tonight because of the alcohol.

Under normal circumstances, it would never have reached this state.

...

Inside the room.

"Lin Zhi, look at him—he’s so annoying," Wang Yue complained.

"Young Master is just teasing you on purpose," Lin Zhi reassured her with a light laugh.

"He’s just mean," Wang Yue huffed.

Lin Zhi softened her voice. "Think about it—who else does Young Master tease like this? Only you. And every time he sees you, doesn’t he pinch your cheeks? That’s how he shows affection. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t even glance your way."

"..."

Wang Yue froze, letting the words sink in.

It made sense.

Now that she thought about it, it really was true.

Lin Zhi continued, "Besides, Young Master said he’d arrange things for you. You’ll probably be the next one to rise to fame. You don’t even need a three-day consideration period—just wait for him to personally handle it. Isn’t that great?"

"Having Young Master arrange things for you is far better than choosing for yourself."

Hearing this, Wang Yue instantly forgot her earlier frustration.

...

Times had changed.

And they were changing faster than ever.

So fast that even A-list celebrities—let alone legendary stars—had no choice but to adapt and embrace the new era.

Take the '80s and '90s, for example.

Whether in Hong Kong or the mainland, whether actors or singers, making a name for yourself back then required more than just connections—it demanded real talent.

The stronger your skills, the smoother your path.

That generation of audiences was spoiled with fine cuisine.

But this era? Only coarse grains remained.

Because everything moved too fast.

Too fast for most people to slow down and savor anything.

Everyone was too busy.

Literature had its fast-food novels.

Music had its viral hits.

Even TV dramas were condensed into short-form series.

Artists, actors, celebrities, influencers—they weren’t the same thing, but fans didn’t care.

Even the platforms and agencies controlling the capital and channels could easily manufacture the next big star.

And if that star had even a shred of talent? Even better—fans could stan with pride.

So,

If Cao Cheng wanted to push every girl in his dance troupe into becoming internet celebrities or influencers, he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. And with the influencer wave still in its infancy, he could secure the first-mover advantage.

Rake in the profits.

Hell, once short videos took off, each of them could become a livestream shopping queen.

With him backing them,

None of these girls would walk away poor—unless they were complete idiots.

But,

Cao Cheng didn’t actually want to mold them into shallow, talentless influencers.

Instead, he was willing to invest a little more time to shape them into self-sufficient stars.

Each one capable of standing on her own merits.

Imagine it—every leading actress dominating screens right now, all crafted by Young Master Cao. The sheer prestige, the emotional payoff—just thinking about it was exhilarating.

Besides,

He wasn’t worried about the extra time it’d take to cultivate them.

It was just a side project.

After Lin Zhi’s rise to fame, it had dawned on him:

Why chase after familiar faces in the industry when he could create his own?

Want a king of pop? Done.

A queen of the screen? Easy.

An influencer or viral sensation? Just say the word.

...

"Eww—"

The Fourth wrinkled her nose and shoved Cao Cheng away the moment he stepped through the door. "You reek of cheap perfume. Go take a shower."

"..."

Cao Cheng chuckled, shaking his head. This jealous little thing.