What now Messing with me

After a playful tussle,

Cao Cheng pulled her close,

and the two became entangled again.

Fortunately, no one was around.

The Fourth was clearly waiting for her in the living room.

Cao Cheng said, "By the way, tomorrow have someone contact that little bald guy from Lost in Hong Kong. I’m planning to..."

He then explained the night’s investments to The Fourth.

It wasn’t just the little bald guy—there were also a few other agency bosses involved.

As long as the projects were good,

or rather, as long as Cao Cheng had heard of the names, he wouldn’t refuse.

If he’d heard of them, it at least meant they weren’t terrible.

And even if they were notoriously bad, that was fine too—as long as they generated emotional engagement.

So,

during the celebration banquet, a few casual conversations led to several investment intentions. The follow-ups would be handled by Sister Li and The Fourth’s team—no way would Young Master Cao personally run around for these things.

These investments could also be used to place people.

No wonder Miracle Media had so many resources—this was how they accumulated them.

Now that Miracle Media’s reputation was established, and Cao Cheng’s name carried even more weight,

securing his investment alone could attract media attention and fan engagement,

saving a fortune on promotional costs.

That’s how the entertainment industry worked—once you had fame, everyone wanted a piece of it.

...

The Fourth was impressed after hearing it all.

"You just finished arguing with Bald Xu and the others, and now, after one celebration banquet, you’re best friends?"

Cao Cheng chuckled. "Better to resolve conflicts than to hold grudges. Besides, that little bald guy’s script is actually pretty good. With some tweaks, it might even become a ‘classic.’"

"A classic? That’s a stretch," The Fourth said skeptically.

But then he noticed Cao Cheng’s half-smile and immediately realized there was more to it.

"A low-budget The Deer and the Cauldron—get it?" Cao Cheng grinned.

"..."

The Fourth wasn’t sure whether that was praise or an insult.

As for this project, Cao Cheng knew it well.

Joyful Detectives.

How to describe it?

It had its highlights—certain plots and characters were brilliant.

But it also had some downright stupid moments.

In other words, if you liked it, you’d think it was fantastic—especially the character Mao Gang, who was absolutely hilarious.

But if you didn’t like it, you’d think the whole show was idiotic, and so were its fans.

Yet...

The viewership numbers were massive—billions, breaking records for web dramas.

And that was despite a rushed ending and a mediocre platform.

If the soul of the show, Mao Gang, didn’t die,

and the lead was replaced with Liu Xing,

with some script revisions,

it might actually become a "classic."

Whether it was a good classic or a bad one didn’t matter.

More fans, more haters—that maximized Cao Cheng’s profits. With those viewership numbers, switching to a better platform for simultaneous streaming could push it even higher.

A hundred billion views? Possible.

If half of those were haters, the emotional engagement could spike into the millions.

No way this investment would lose money.

No matter how you looked at it, Cao Cheng was winning big.

As for whether the plot would get torn apart by critics?

Not his problem.

Besides, the "Fairy Sister" wasn’t afraid of flops.

Right?

She’d already bombed with everything she’d done—might as well try this for fun. It’d help shed some of that untouchable fairy aura she’d gotten used to.

"You..."

The Fourth smirked. "You actually invited her to star in a web drama? Are you serious?"

Even The Fourth thought Cao Cheng was pushing it.

The Fairy Sister might have a spotty record, but she was still a movie star. Look at who she’d worked with before!

And now you’re asking her to do a web drama?

She didn’t slap you on the spot? That’s a miracle.

"What’s wrong with web dramas?"

"Mark my words—web dramas are the future," Cao Cheng retorted.

The Fourth shook his head. "I don’t buy it."

"Wanna bet?"

"Not falling for that again." The Fourth rolled his eyes. This guy was addicted to gambling.

Cao Cheng laughed. "If she ‘sees the light’ and joins our company later, give her some decent TV dramas. Let her mentor An Ya and Wang Yue."

The Fourth frowned. "You really think she’ll join?"

"Depends on her luck. If she’s lucky, maybe. If not, oh well."

"..."

The Fourth sighed. This guy’s way of talking was something else.

But he understood—his little brother was giving her a chance. If she joined Miracle Media, her career would skyrocket.

If she didn’t? Well, with her own company, she’d stay stagnant.

Finding another Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils or The Return of the Condor Heroes? Good luck.

As they spoke,

Cao Cheng was busy examining her nightgown.

What material was this?

Silk?

Seemed like it.

Nice texture... Hmm.

Wait.

What’s underneath—

Smack!

The Fourth slapped his hand away, glaring. "You’re getting worse."

Cao Cheng grinned sheepishly. "Just curious."

"Go bother Tang Xin."

The Fourth stood up,

huffed, and walked off.

...

Over the next few days,

Goodbye Mr. Loser and the Lost in series kept climbing at the box office.

Their screenings kept squeezing out other films, leaving competitors in the dust.

By now, the rankings were clear—first and second place.

But everyone was more focused on Goodbye Mr. Loser, the dark horse. No one knew how high it could go, but breaking 2 billion seemed certain.

A true underdog story.

Small budget, massive returns.

It had trampled over big-budget blockbusters—a new king had risen.

Rumors said Goodbye Mr. Loser cost only 20 million to make, 50 million total with promotions and fees.

Others claimed the full budget was 100 million.

Whatever the case, it was still a low-budget, no-name production.

The cast became overnight sensations.

Shen Teng, once known only as "Hao Jian," now carried the aura of a leading man. At events, fans chanted "Xia Luo! Xia Luo!" and "Mary! Mary!"

For the first time, they felt what it was like to be hot.

Pumped with adrenaline, they kept up nonstop promotions and roadshows.

...

The box office climbed daily.

The gap between first and second place widened.

Finally, it crossed 2 billion, becoming the second-highest-grossing film in domestic history (including foreign releases).

That night,

Qianqian’s Mom approached Old Cheng

to discuss transferring Qianqian’s contract.

A few sentences in, Old Cheng exploded.

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"I. Do. Not. Agree!"

His stance was firm.

Understandable.

He’d nurtured this little cabbage, never getting a taste himself. If he couldn’t have her, he’d at least maximize her value.

And now she wanted to leave?

What about all his years of investment?

Sure, her fame had boosted his own reputation—it was mutually beneficial.

Without her, some things would’ve been harder for him these past years.

But right now, he wasn’t thinking about that.

All he saw was his little cabbage.

Without him, she’d be nothing.

Qianqian's Mom reassured, "Old Cheng, Qianqian is grown up now. She can't stay sheltered under our wings forever, can she? She needs to spread her wings. Miracle Entertainment has extended an olive branch—this isn’t an easy opportunity to come by. Their resources far surpass what our own company can offer."

She wasn’t wrong.

If he were her real father, he might have given more thought to her growth.

But they weren’t blood-related.

Old Cheng snapped, "I said no, and that’s final."

Qianqian's Mom had expected this reaction, but she had already prepared her arguments.

She remained calm, unfazed, and spoke evenly, "Old Cheng, this could benefit you too. Do you know how wealthy Cao Cheng is? If Qianqian joins his company, your business might even land collaboration opportunities with him."

"..."

That gave Old Cheng pause.

He snapped back to reality.

That… was indeed an opportunity.

If he could leverage connections with the Cao family—or even the Ren family—his business could skyrocket overnight.

But still!

He couldn’t shake his resentment.

Why should he?

Suddenly,

An assistant rushed over and whispered something into Qianqian's Mom’s ear.

Her expression instantly twisted with shock and anger.

Old Cheng frowned. "What’s going on?"

He shot the assistant a glare. What the hell? Whispering to Qianqian's Mom right in front of him—who were they trying to hide it from?

Were they hiding it from him?

Qianqian's Mom ignored his reaction and pulled out her phone, quickly searching for something.

Within seconds, she found the news online.

Old Cheng leaned in to look—and the moment he saw the headline, his mind went blank.

Damn it.

The headline was simple: Fairy Sister Publicly Confirms Relationship!

That little bastard.

It was that damn actor she’d worked with.

Earlier today, media outlets had leaked photos of Fairy Sister secretly meeting with the guy.

At first, it was just speculative news with blurry pictures.

But then, the guy’s side immediately confirmed the relationship—publicly, in his home country, earlier in the afternoon.

By evening, the news had spread domestically, and Fairy Sister responded on her Weibo with two ‘heart’ emojis, seemingly acknowledging the rumors.

And just like that, the internet exploded.

Even though it was past 10 PM,

Weibo nearly crashed from the traffic.

Somehow, the servers held—but barely.

Thankfully, it was late at night, and most people were asleep.

Otherwise, the platform might have actually gone down.

"This—" Old Cheng jabbed a finger at the phone, seething. "This is the daughter you raised so well? Weren’t you protecting her? What the hell is this? Are you mocking me?"

Qianqian's Mom was just as stunned.

She knew the guy had been pursuing Qianqian privately.

But Qianqian had claimed she wasn’t interested.

Had she been lying? Playing hard to get?

And when were these photos even taken?

They looked like behind-the-scenes shots from filming—when the two were reviewing scripts over a meal. The crew had kept them under wraps.

That was ages ago.

Why were they surfacing now?

Something felt off. The guy’s statement was carefully worded—he said they were "just starting to date" and were "in the process of getting to know each other."

The phrasing was deliberately ambiguous.

The first part suggested a confirmed romantic relationship.

The second part left room for interpretation—it could just mean they were friends getting closer.

He was covering his own ass.

Qianqian's Mom suddenly realized—this was a power play. The guy had probably leaked the photos himself, then "confirmed" the relationship to force Qianqian’s hand.

But she hadn’t expected Qianqian to respond with those heart emojis.

...

Seeing Qianqian's Mom silent,

Old Cheng’s fury only grew.

He stood abruptly.

"You two are unbelievable."

"Fine. Since it’s like this, don’t come to me for help anymore. You’ve got Miracle’s resources and a Korean son-in-law now—go enjoy yourselves."

With that, Old Cheng stormed out.

Left with no choice, Qianqian's Mom called her daughter.

"Qianqian, what’s going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You’re dating him? I thought you said you weren’t interested?" Qianqian's Mom pressed urgently.

Qianqian deflected, "You went to see him? What did he say?"

"He left in a huff. Said he’s done with you—that you can do whatever you want from now on."

Qianqian scoffed. "Figures. So, can my contract be transferred to Miracle now?"

"Who knows? Even Miracle might not want you if you’re in a relationship. You should call Cao Cheng yourself—didn’t you keep his number?"

"Fine. I’ll call him tomorrow. It’s too late now."