Shocking Surname Cao's Richest Man Stayed Overnight with Three Actresses...

The next morning.

The film crew was wrapping up the final tasks.

The director and a few others had only just gotten up, sipping porridge to soothe their stomachs.

They had drunk too much the night before and were feeling unwell.

As they gathered, the bet from yesterday inevitably came up again.

Though everyone had been drinking heavily, no one was truly drunk.

The topic of one billion yuan resurfaced.

Even now, they could hardly believe it.

"Does Mr. Cao really have that much faith in our movie? The pressure is killing me," Director Old Yan rubbed his numb cheeks.

He wasn’t much older than Young Master Cao, just a few years his senior.

Still in the prime of his youth.

He had the recklessness and restlessness of a young man.

But after last night, Old Yan suddenly felt an overwhelming weight on his shoulders, constantly replaying the scenes they’d shot over the past three months in his mind.

Was it good enough?

What if… not only did they fail to hit one billion, but even six or seven hundred million seemed out of reach? What if it barely made a couple hundred million—or worse, just tens of millions?

Then… they wouldn’t even recoup the costs.

Life would be unbearable.

The higher the hopes, the harder the fall.

Meanwhile, the other director and screenwriter adjusted his glasses and chimed in, "I was worried too, but I did some digging after we got back."

His words drew everyone’s attention.

Including Shen Teng and Mary.

All eyes were on him.

What did you find?

The second director continued, "I looked into all the movies and variety shows Mr. Cao has invested in since he started. And I realized one thing—his instincts are freakishly good. So good that… I almost think he’s like Xia Luo, like he’s traveled back in time."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Silence fell over the group.

But soon, they caught his drift.

Right.

Wasn’t Goodbye Mr. Loser about time travel, stealing songs, and all that?

The only difference was that Xia Luo, after traveling back, only cared about showing off and plagiarizing songs—he didn’t invest in movies or tech companies or anything else.

When you thought about it…

If someone claimed Mr. Cao was a time traveler, it wouldn’t be hard to believe.

But believing was one thing; no one would take it seriously.

Once the words were out, everyone laughed, and the mood lightened.

Old Yan grinned. "You might be onto something. So what you’re saying is, we should just treat Mr. Cao like a time traveler, which means our movie is guaranteed to be a hit?"

The second director laughed. "Exactly. So we’ve already lost the bet. This film is definitely hitting one billion—maybe even 1.1 billion. It might even surpass Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons. In other words, none of us are doubling our salaries or fees."

"..."

The room erupted in groans and headshakes.

Sure, many still hoped for that pay raise.

But if the movie really hit one or 1.1 billion, the benefits it would bring them—far outweighed a few hundred thousand or even a million.

Especially for the director, lead actors, and screenwriters.

They’d instantly become dark horses, rising stars in the industry.

Finally, Old Yan spoke up. "Alright, everyone. Next up is editing. Let’s go through everything one more time together. Since we’ve got nothing else to do, we might as well stay and review it. See where we need to tighten things up, reshoot, or strengthen the logic..."

The suggestion was met with unanimous agreement.

They really didn’t have anything else going on.

After wrapping up, they’d just go back to their stage plays.

Staying here meant free meals on the company’s dime.

And of course, they all wanted this movie to be a hit.

As for the rest—things like approvals and promotions—those weren’t their responsibilities. Those fell to the producers, distributors, and production companies.

Their job was to fill in the gaps and polish the film during this final stage, making it as good as possible.

At the very least, they had to ensure there were no logical flaws.

...

...

Meanwhile.

Cao Cheng woke up in the presidential suite of a luxury hotel.

He’d had too much to drink last night.

Just tipsy enough.

But instead of rushing back overnight, he’d stayed to rest.

After getting up, he took three girls with him on a private jet back to Zhonghai.

Once they arrived,

Cao Cheng called Sister Li over and handed the girls to her, instructing her to arrange assistants, managers, and other support staff for them.

Then, he told her to line up future projects for them.

Miracle Media wasn’t short on resources these days.

Many of the films and dramas they invested in only used a fraction of their own talent—simply because they didn’t have enough actors, and forcing mismatched roles on them wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Take the two younger ones, Little Zifeng and Little Jinmai—if you cast them as delinquent high school girls, the audience would tear them apart.

They were only in their first year of high school.

Time had flown.

Back when they were signed at the end of 2011, the "end of the world" year hadn’t even arrived yet.

At their age, they were in an awkward spot—too young for some roles, too old for others, lacking the right vibe.

The only suitable parts were in teen school dramas.

Luckily, Miracle Media had those kinds of projects, with supporting roles they could take on every year.

It was July now.

School was out.

So they’d been sent abroad to film.

"Detective Chinatown."

This one was set in Thailand, but it mostly highlighted the country’s chaos and mysterious disappearances.

These two could only film during winter and summer breaks—studies came first, as stipulated in their contracts. No exceptions.

After Sister Li took the three girls away,

just before they left,

Cao Cheng pinched Wang Yue’s cheek. "Work hard. An Ya’s already a lead actress—don’t fall behind. And Jiang Mengqi, you too."

A little encouragement.

Wang Yue huffed. Every time they met, he called her chubby-faced—but hadn’t he kissed it anyway?

Cao Cheng suddenly leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I won’t mention last night, but don’t let it happen again."

"..."

Wang Yue’s pupils shrank.

By the time she processed it, Cao Cheng had already turned and walked away.

She couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or if he really knew.

Hadn’t he been drunk last night?

So how did he know she’d sneaked into his bedroom in the middle of the night?

This...

She glanced around, relieved when no one seemed to notice.

But her face slowly turned red.

Ugh.

So embarrassing.

Her ambush had been discovered.

That guy!

And what did he mean, "don’t let it happen again"?

The way he said it almost sounded like... "Come back next time."

Jerk.

...

...

The same afternoon Cao Cheng returned to Zhonghai,

a piece of news shot to the top of the trending list.

The photo was so blurry it was practically indecipherable.

Classic paparazzi work—just clear enough to hint at something, but not enough to confirm.

The backdrop was a hotel entrance.

The headline was explosive:

"Shocking! Cao Surname Billionaire Spends Night in Hotel with Three Actresses!"

Every word in it was clickbait gold.

So,

even though it came from a small gossip account, the photo and story instantly topped the charts.

Cao Cheng’s Weibo was immediately flooded.

Completely overwhelmed.

With every refresh, a flood of new comments poured in.

Each refresh brought fresh gossip.

Normally, Cao Cheng would post photos and captions of himself getting massages by beautiful women—just to tease his fans.

But this time, it wasn’t Cao Cheng posting. It was the paparazzi.

Something was clearly up.

His devoted fangirls exploded.

So did his male anti-fans.

"I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it! My husband isn’t that kind of person!" someone wailed.

Others were thrilled: "Wow, my man’s that wild? Three at once?"

"...Are you even listening to yourself?"

Male anti-fans chimed in: "Cao Cheng, I swear eternal enmity! How dare you not invite me to something like this? Instant blacklist, forever."

"Agreed! How could you not call us? Not even a few photos to share?"

"Those three girls are stunning, though."

"Are you blind? Can you even see them clearly?"

"You’re clueless. Their identities got exposed—they’re actresses from some film crew. Three of them, including the female lead..."

"Where? Drop a link, kind soul. May you live a blessed life."

"Blessed life +1."

"Blessed life +10086..."

The discussion quickly derailed.

Many were distracted by something else—solid proof.

Photos. And a juicy write-up.

"According to insider sources, a certain Cao, a billionaire, attended a wrap party for a film he reportedly invested in. Rumor has it he handpicked all the cast, including the lead actress and several supporting actresses—all allegedly 'his people.'"

"After the party, everyone was wasted. Three women helped the intoxicated Cao back to his hotel... and didn’t leave until noon the next day."

The write-up was detailed, complete with photos—grainy, taken from an angle, showing three women.

No clear faces.

The backdrop suggested a film set.

But even with the limited exposure, it was obvious: all three were naturally gorgeous.

Which only made people angrier.

Fans raged: "Cao Cheng, how could you not invite me? I’ve been a loyal fan!"

"Keeping the fun to yourself? You think you’re above us?"

"Am I the only one who thinks 'a certain Cao, a billionaire' is overkill? They’re just scared of getting sued. But everyone knows it’s Cao Cheng."

"Hate him all you want, but trust his taste—these three are Cao’s Premium Picks!"

"Premium Picks +1!"

"Anyone got their info?"

...

The scandal kept spreading.

More details surfaced.

It was clear the leaker was anonymous, likely a minor crew member who’d snapped some photos.

Then leaked them.

Even the film’s name slipped out.

Goodbye Mr. Loser.

The title made no sense to most, but it stuck in their minds.

...

Meanwhile, The Fourth called.

This time, he’d learned his lesson—no snarky opener. Just a question: "Is this your marketing strategy?"

Gotta hand it to The Fourth—sharp as ever.

He instantly spotted the promotional angle.

Sure, some crew members could act like gossip hounds.

But they were small-time.

No way they’d get such high-res shots.

This was clearly staged.

And thanks to the anonymous leak, real small-timers started bragging online, spilling harmless tidbits about the production.

All under control.

Besides, given Cao Cheng’s status, if he really wanted to suppress this kind of news, it could be done in minutes.

While it might not be completely erased, at least it wouldn’t blow up like this.

Cao Cheng said, "The promotion has only just begun. This is the first shot—to draw everyone’s attention. After that, we’ll take it step by step..."

"Also, coordinate on your end. When the time comes, we can release information about the three girls and even rank them—the Twelve Golden Beauties... Not by fame, but by age. Lin Zhi will be the eldest, and the others will follow."

"But don’t disclose the details of the others yet. Only Lin Zhi and these three for now."

"..."

The Fourth understood.

This guy wasn’t just promoting the movie—he was simultaneously building up the Twelve Golden Beauties brand.

Promotion works subtly, seeping in bit by bit. Given enough time, it easily evolves into a 'meme' culture.

Especially those four words: "Cao Cheng’s Selection."

There’s no doubt Cao Cheng’s hand was behind it.

Whether the meme is good or bad, it’s still publicity.

And when it comes to memes—

if played right, they’re worth billions in marketing.

Take "Kun," for example.

Who hasn’t heard of him? Who doesn’t know him?

Even after... getting banned, two and a half years later, people still reminisce. No matter how online trends shift, that buzzword never fades.