Awesome, My Fairy Sister

When Young Master Cao and the Fairy Sister appeared together in the banquet hall, they drew quite a few gazes.

Especially since the two seemed to be chatting and laughing.

It left many people stunned—damn, weren’t they tearing each other apart online? How come they’re so friendly in real life?

No wonder he’s the richest man.

The impression he gives off in public versus in private is completely different.

Just like earlier, when Boss Cao was chatting with Pao’er and Bald Xu, who could’ve guessed these three were busy roasting each other online?

Hell, Bald Xu almost took Cao Cheng to court.

Yet here they were in real life, clinking glasses like old friends.

No wonder these guys are the big shots.

Many lesser-known actors couldn’t help but reflect—if it were them, the moment there was any bad blood, they’d be out for blood, wanting to wipe out the other’s entire family.

No wonder they’d never make it as big shots.

They just didn’t have skin that thick.

No one could hear what they were discussing.

But if anyone had gotten closer, they might’ve caught it.

Cao Cheng said, “Want a role? No problem. Movies don’t have a good spot for you right now, but there’s TV. You in?”

“TV?” The Fairy Sister tilted her head, skeptical. “You think I’d lack TV offers?”

Cao Cheng shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you need buzz. If you go looking for TV roles yourself, people will say the Fairy Sister has fallen—that you’re box office poison, that even Li Lianjie and Chen Long couldn’t save your movies, and now you’re slumming it in TV.”

“…”

The Fairy Sister’s heart skipped a beat.

Cao Cheng smirked. “But if you star in a show I’m backing, whether it’s serious drama or slapstick comedy, people will either say I’m a genius—or that you are.”

“What do you mean?” The Fairy Sister frowned, not quite following.

Cao Cheng explained, “If I’m the genius, it’s because despite our public beef, I can still get you to sign on, willingly stepping down from movies to TV. That’s power—money talks, right? As for you being the genius, another crowd will say, ‘Damn, the Fairy Sister’s got pull—landing a show backed by Miracle Media, cozying up to Young Master Cao himself.’”

“So…”

“No matter how you spin it, you get the buzz, and it won’t be bad press. Way better than if you went solo.”

“Even if some say you’re slumming it, it won’t be a total pile-on.”

The Fairy Sister took a deep breath. He was right.

This guy’s mind worked fast.

She hadn’t even processed it yet.

And honestly, it gave her an out.

She wasn’t stupid.

She’d considered that if movies weren’t working, TV could at least keep her relevant.

But without a hit film, she didn’t dare touch TV.

She’d be laughed out of the industry—or worse, torn apart.

But partnering with Miracle Media? That changed everything.

Plainly put: if she switched to TV alone, some of her high-end endorsements might bail.

But if she aligned with Young Master Cao? Different story.

And her star power wouldn’t take a hit.

…

The Fairy Sister really lived up to her ethereal rep.

Just a few words, and the waves of emotion rolling off her had already earned Cao Cheng a tidy sum.

Hell, she was worth two Little Cannons.

Sure, Little Cannon had been a top director for years, even number one at his peak, but let’s be real—his fanbase was tiny compared to his haters.

(Though haters still meant clout.)

The Fairy Sister? Massive fanbase, even bigger hate-following.

Add it up, and she outdid two Little Cannons.

Damn, my Fairy Queen’s on fire.

Cao Cheng had to admit—he’d underestimated a top star’s pull.

After a few seconds of silence, she nodded. “I’ll give it a shot.”

In her eyes, Cao Cheng spotted something eager, almost restless.

Clearly, she was sick of flopping.

But she had no other options.

So when he extended the olive branch, she didn’t hesitate.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Meet one of your future TV show’s directors—and co-writer.”

Cao Cheng led her through the crowd until they spotted a little bald guy.

This little bald guy was busy flirting with a B-list actress.

Talk about having time to kill.

Cao Cheng approached.

“Young Boss Bao, got a minute? Need to chat.”

“…”

The little bald guy blinked, pointed at himself, then nodded eagerly. “Y-yes, of course!”

Off to the side, Cao Cheng cut straight to it: “Heard you’re working on a script—period comedy?”

The little bald guy froze. “Boss Cao, your intel’s sharp. Not many know about this.”

“This circle’s small. Hard to keep secrets. Especially since I hear you’re prepping to shoot in a couple months, right?” Cao Cheng smiled.

Young Boss Bao played humble. “Yes, exactly. So… you’re looking to invest?”

Cao Cheng raised a brow. “Love talking to smart people. Not only will I invest, I’ll handle promo—and bring you some star power. Like her.”

“…” Young Boss Bao gaped at the Fairy Sister, stunned.

The "Goddess Sister" simply smiled faintly: "For now, I'll listen to President Cao."

The young bald guy got excited but then his expression shifted: "Uh... this drama, I... I was planning to make it a web series, just a small-scale project. Having the Goddess Sister join would be amazing, but isn’t this too small a stage for her?"

A web series?

The Goddess Sister’s expression darkened.

At this time, web series were still considered pretty low-tier.

To put it bluntly, even a total view count in the hundreds of millions could break records.

Plus, web series were synonymous with shoddy production back then.

With all sorts of investors jumping in, buying up copyrights left and right, the whole scene had become a mess.

In short—

Asking her to star in a web series was like asking Jackie Chan to participate in a slapstick prank show, getting humiliated like a joke. It was downright undignified.

"Let’s not focus on the web series thing for now. We can discuss the details later. But one thing—if I invest, there might be some changes to the cast. Don’t worry, I won’t just shove random people in. I plan to bring in A-listers to play supporting roles."

"For example, Shen Teng—he’s red-hot right now. It’s only a matter of time before his movies cross two billion at the box office. If he makes a cameo, even just a few minutes of screen time, it’ll generate massive buzz."

"And any other big names you can think of—just name them, and I’ll try to get them."

This got the young bald guy fired up.

He felt like he’d met a kindred spirit. This was exactly what he had in mind, but his connections could only get him so far.

Compared to Cao Cheng, he was definitely outmatched.

In fact, the young bald guy even wondered if Cao Cheng’s status could get Bald Xu or Xiaogang Feng to make a cameo.

It was almost superstitious at this point.

People said that any movie Xiaogang Feng appeared in—especially if his character died early—would be a box office hit.

Cao Cheng added, "So, I’ll need to arrange a few roles, including yours as the male lead."

"Wait, me?" The young bald guy was stunned.

Hold on—

Bro, I’m the director, screenwriter, AND male lead. You’re replacing me?

Cao Cheng patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me. If you want this drama to break records and become a dark horse, focus on directing and writing. This is your chance to prove yourself. Don’t act in it—your look is perfect for the main villain."

"..."

The young bald guy was speechless. "President Cao, this... this..."

Cao Cheng chuckled. "We’ll talk details later. Either way, I won’t shortchange you. But if you’re not comfortable with it, no hard feelings. There’ll be plenty of chances to work together in the future."

"Alright, I’ll come find you later to discuss properly." The young bald guy knew this wasn’t the right setting for a deep conversation.

After a few more pleasantries, Cao Cheng left with the "Goddess Sister."

...

Earlier, when she heard "web series," the girl had nearly exploded.

Cao Cheng had almost laughed out loud.

Celebrities like her really were the easiest to rile up.

Once they were gone, she couldn’t hold back. "You want me to act in a web series?"

"What’s the problem? If others can do it, why can’t you? Are you somehow above them?"

"..."

His crude language didn’t faze her.

She was a grown woman and no stranger to vulgarity.

Cao Cheng continued, "If you’re switching lanes, commit to it. Don’t cling to prestige projects. Yeah, I have those too, but they’re not for you—at least not yet. First, you need to shatter your image completely in the eyes of your fans. Only then can you rise from the ashes."

"If you don’t burn hard enough, you might as well not bother."

"Also—"

"Go tell your mom to transfer your contract to my company."

She blinked. "Transfer my contract?"

Cao Cheng scoffed. "Why else would I plan your future for you? What, you’re used to freebies? Don’t pick up your mom’s bad habits—it pisses people off."

"..."

She rolled her eyes.

This guy had a sharp tongue.

He was bringing up old drama again—her mom had indeed made a habit of taking advantage of people, burning bridges left and right.

No wonder she had so much bad press.

...

...

Soon, the banquet ended.

Cao Cheng stayed behind to chat with the "Charlotte" production team. The night had been packed with socializing, and he hadn’t had a proper talk with them yet.

Especially about the "red envelope" situation.

They’d lost their bet—Cao Cheng had said no bonuses, no double pay.

The team was torn between disappointment and excitement.

So,

Cao Cheng stuck around to milk their reactions one last time before magnanimously announcing he’d double their pay after all.

Even though they’d lost, he didn’t care about the money.

After toying with their emotions, he could still win them over.

All in all, it was just a few million—chump change for buying loyalty.

And right now, Cao Cheng loved nothing more than winning people over.

Take that "Goddess Sister" earlier.

Did he actually want to sign her?

Not necessarily.

He’d just tossed it out there, knowing she’d go home and make a fuss. In the end, she probably wouldn’t even take the web series role.

Cao Cheng saw right through it.

But he’d played along anyway—

Like it was the real deal.

This is about winning people over first, so that when she's "in trouble" later, Cao Cheng can step in and bring her under his wing. By then, the cost would be minimal—it might even seem like he's doing her a favor.

It’s just casting a wide net casually.

Even if she doesn’t feel grateful later, it doesn’t matter. At worst, he’d just lose one famous actress.

If she can’t be lifted up, can’t she at least be pushed down?

Besides,

If she agrees this time and actually settles her family issues, signing with Cao Cheng’s side, wouldn’t that be an effortless windfall?

Not only could he use her to make money, gain fame, and harvest emotional points, but she could also help him groom talent, elevating the Twelve Golden Flowers.

All in all, Cao Cheng loses nothing.

What he has to offer? Just a few words, some empty boasts, and eventually borrowing Bald Xu’s script to give her a bit of fame.

So,

Crunch the numbers, and Cao Cheng comes out way ahead.

Even if, worst-case scenario, all his schemes fall through—so what?

At most, he’d have wasted a few minutes of chat time and a handful of empty promises.