Looking at the photos.
Cao Cheng stroked his chin with the air of a chosen one, admiring them with calm confidence.
"Not bad at all," Fat Fairy beside him marveled at her own photos, clicking her tongue in approval.
"..."
Cao Cheng shot her a sideways glance, baffled. "Have some shame, will you?"
"It really does look good," Fat Fairy insisted, tilting her chin up stubbornly. She genuinely thought she looked great.
With a hint of regret in her tone, she added, "But... why focus so much on the legs? I feel like... they do look a bit thick here."
In the photos,
there were plenty of close-ups of her legs, deliberately shot from angles that emphasized their "thickness."
Clearly intentional.
In reality, they didn’t look that heavy.
"Don’t you get the vibe I’m going for?" Cao Cheng frowned.
"What vibe?" Fat Fairy blinked, studying the photos again before shaking her head. "I don’t see it. The overall composition and aura are heroic, like a female general, and the temperament comes through. It’s just the leg angles that are off..."
"I wanted those legs," Cao Cheng cut her off.
Her previous photoshoots had also featured warrior-themed costumes.
They were all over the internet.
But back then,
those shots mostly focused on her face or upper body.
Either elegant white dresses
or purple robes with a sword.
The emphasis was always on an ethereal, icy beauty.
She rarely had photos as a horseback general, and even fewer in ancient attire that showed her legs—though there were some modern ones.
Sadly, none of them matched up to these new shots.
Fat Fairy didn’t understand Cao Cheng’s plan, but she knew that once these photos were released, her fans would love them—while her haters would zero in on those legs.
All because Cao Cheng had deliberately instructed the photographer to make them look thicker than they really were.
She wasn’t even that heavy these days!
But what could she say?
Cao Cheng was the boss, and he’d done this on purpose.
Fat Fairy asked, "What’s the promotion plan?"
"Just wait and see. Oh, and the PR costs will be deducted from your salary."
"I have to pay for it?!" Fat Fairy gasped.
Cao Cheng gasped right back, "Well, duh! I’m personally handling your promotion and only charging you the standard rate—you should be grateful! These days, TV dramas, movies, even variety shows are begging me to give them a push, offering piles of cash. And who do I bother with? Nobody!"
"..."
He wasn’t wrong.
Fat Fairy knew it too, so she faltered, muttering, "Heartless capitalist."
Cao Cheng laughed in exasperation. "Heartless, huh? Fine, I won’t handle your PR then. You’re used to the hate anyway. I’ll cover the photo shoot and crew costs myself."
"Hey—wait!"
Fat Fairy tugged at his sleeve, pouting. "The photos are already taken. Alright, alright, I’ll pay. Happy now?"
"Of course you’re paying. Don’t act like I’m scamming you. Count yourself lucky."
"Yes, yes. This humble girl knows her blessings. Plenty of people are begging for your help, and I’m just fortunate enough to have caught your eye."
"Glad you’re aware."
Cao Cheng snorted and pointed at his teacup.
Fat Fairy promptly poured him a fresh cup, flashing a flattering smile.
Then,
sipping his tea, Cao Cheng sent digital copies of the photos to an obscure email address.
The caption read: "Begin."
...
Fat Fairy watched the images being sent off, her anticipation growing.
Cao Cheng, meanwhile, remained utterly unruffled.
This whole thing was nothing to him. Claiming he was personally handling Fat Fairy’s PR and promotion was just for show—in reality, he only needed to say the word.
He had an army of people working for him.
The only thing he might actually do himself was tweak her figure a bit.
Setting down his cup, Cao Cheng asked, "Want to improve your physique?"
"What do you mean?" Fat Fairy frowned.
Cao Cheng explained, "You know I own a pharmaceutical company—not Western medicine, but traditional Chinese remedies, including some potent ointments. They can help you reach the peak of your body’s natural potential."
As he elaborated, Fat Fairy began to understand.
Everyone’s body has a fixed upper limit.
Take some people, for instance—like his sisters, especially the second eldest.
Her limit was absurdly high.
That kind of figure could outshine 99.9% of the population anywhere.
But others, like Fat Fairy, had a more modest ceiling. No matter how much they dieted, exercised, or tried every trick in the book, the improvements were limited.
She wasn’t at the bottom, but without constant effort, she’d easily slip into being heavier or stockier.
That was her baseline.
Cao Cheng’s ointments—like the foot patches—targeted key acupuncture points on the soles, absorbing excess dampness and impurities. With regular use, they could help maintain a certain physique.
Of course,
they had to be paired with other supplements, like specialized pills.
It was like those miracle cosmetics with "X-serum" that slowed aging and preserved youth.
After hearing all this, Fat Fairy gasped, "You have something that good? Does that mean I won’t have to watch my diet anymore? I can eat and drink whatever I want?"
Cao Cheng rolled his eyes. "In theory, yes. But if you push it, no one can save you—unless you get your hands on the premium stuff. Which you can’t afford."
"I can’t afford it?" Fat Fairy scoffed. "Impossible."
"Very possible. Those top-tier remedies aren’t for sale. They’re only for family."
"I’m part of Miracle Media too, you know," Fat Fairy argued.
"By ‘family,’ I mean blood relatives. What does Miracle Media have to do with it?" Cao Cheng gave her a sidelong glance.
"..."
Fat Fairy smirked knowingly. "So after all that, you’re still angling for a ‘private rehearsal,’ huh?"
Cao Cheng burst out laughing, clapping his hands. "Not as dumb as you look."
"Pfft!" Fat Fairy rolled her eyes.
Cao Cheng had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.
If she wanted to maintain her best shape,
a single "Body Refinement" pill could work wonders, keeping her in top form without the usual struggles.
This was cultivation-world stuff.
Even low-grade pills were overkill for something like weight loss.
But here was the catch—
why would he just hand them over?
Sure, he joked about "private rehearsals,"
but Cao Cheng wasn’t that desperate.
With his natural charm, did he really need to resort to bribes to win someone over?
What he really wanted was simple.
"I can give you the goods. We’ll talk about ‘rehearsals’ later. The real issue is your contract—a few years isn’t enough." Cao Cheng wagged his head smugly.
Fat Fairy finally caught on: "Oh, so you're trying to make me sign a contract selling myself?"
"Don’t put it so harshly. It’s just that you have your needs, and I have my contributions—a fair trade. I can’t just turn you into a heartthrob only for you to leave in two or three years. Where would I go to complain then?" Cao Cheng said.
Fat Fairy pondered: "So how many years do you want to sign me for?"
"If the law allowed it, I’d sign you till you’re sixty."
"..." Fat Fairy was speechless for a moment. "Be serious."
"Ten years." Cao Cheng clenched his fist.
Fat Fairy nodded immediately. "Deal."
"Uh... make it twenty." Cao Cheng instantly backtracked.
Fat Fairy scoffed. "Don’t make me lose respect for you. We already said ten."
"Ugh, I’m getting totally ripped off. I should’ve started with twenty and haggled down." Cao Cheng stomped his feet in frustration.
Fat Fairy snorted. "Cut the act. You said ten, but your real bottom line was eight. I didn’t even bother bargaining—be grateful."
She threw Cao Cheng’s own words back at him.
And that was the truth.
Cao Cheng wasn’t actually aiming for a long contract.
It was just that this girl had high emotional engagement and a massive fanbase.
She alone was worth half the artists at Miracle Media.
After all, she’d been famous for years. Adding another decade to her existing career would make it fifteen years total.
That was already an incredibly hefty contract.
Think about it—this girl could bring Cao Cheng a flood of emotional engagement every year. Supporting her was like supporting half of Miracle Media.
Not only would it save money, but it’d also save effort.
Plus, he could use her to step on half the female celebrities in the industry, squeezing out even more emotional engagement.
She was basically a tool for attracting hate.
As long as she was around, most female stars in the industry would resent her.
So no matter what, Cao Cheng wouldn’t lose out.
That was why he was willing to help her.
Without all that emotional engagement, even if Cao Cheng had genuinely mentored her in acting, he wouldn’t have spent this much time on her.
......
That same night.
The press releases about Fat Fairy were already out.
Cao Cheng also had to invest in PR and promotional expenses.
The angle of the press release was all about her "honey legs" and healthy beauty.
A heroic, valiant female warrior—her "light tank" presence was overwhelming.
If you said her legs looked a little thick from this angle, sure, no argument there.
But if you said it was appealing?
Also no argument there.
With a frame like hers,
Calling her "fat and greasy"?
Impossible.
The focus was on sweetness and health.
At the same time, Baby and a few other female celebrities were dragged into the mud for comparison.
Originally, it was just Baby, but now that they’d made a move, Cao Cheng wasn’t about to hold back. No matter who was backing them, stepping on Fat Fairy meant stepping on Miracle Media—which meant stepping on Cao Cheng himself.
And Cao Cheng wasn’t the type to take that lightly.
He’d drag them all into it.
Finding unflattering photos of these female stars wasn’t hard at all, especially the ones who were painfully thin.
So thin their collarbones jutted out.
So thin they looked brittle.
So thin they barely looked human anymore.
Cao Cheng’s strategy was to flip the script—if they called Fat Fairy fat, he’d dig up their own ugly photos where they were too skinny.
When these two types of unflattering shots were compared, fans quickly realized: Fat Fairy’s "ugly" photos just showed her as thick, while the others’ skinny photos made them look unhealthy, almost skeletal.
Pitted against Fat Fairy’s heroic horseback pose, it looked like she could spear every one of them into the sky with a single thrust.
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
lan, the Luo family, tracked him down - along with the babies in their arms. Mo Xuan stared pensively at the paternity test results from over a dozen top institutions, both domestic and international, showing a 99.99% match between himself and the two baby girls. At 23, Mo Xuan, a doctoral student, had become the father of two three-year-old children. The kicker? The mothers weren't even the same person! He gradually realized he was being lured step by step into an elaborate trap designed by these two yandere sisters. "Be good, little Xuan. Sister's life belongs to you entirely." "Brother, if you try to run away, I'll have no choice but to tie you up." Mo Xuan: "Do whatever you want, ladies. I give up."
