Public [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Adult’s Holiday

4 a.m.

Secretary Cong Zhen and the driver arrived punctually at the lakeside estate. The driver took the suitcase handed over by the butler.

Through the half-lowered rear car window, one could faintly make out He Lingji’s handsome profile, his pupils icy cold, devoid of warmth—until his gaze swept across the tightly shut terrace on the second floor.

Just before the car started, he unexpectedly asked about Qin Mang’s smoking.

The butler waiting by the door was caught off guard, pausing half a second before replying respectfully, “Madam is practicing for a role in her next film.”

He Lingji responded with a vague hum, as if it were a casual remark, and his thin lips lightly uttered three words: “To the airport.”

The car drove out of the estate gates.

The sky was still dark, the cabin dimly lit.

Secretary Cong inadvertently looked up and caught a glimpse of his boss’s elegant and refined face in the rearview mirror. At this moment, his expression was indifferent, his features cold and sharp—enough to instill fear.

It was his usual look, but now carried an inexplicable nuance.

Recalling the question He had just asked at the door, Cong composed himself, then tentatively suggested, “If it’s just for practice, perhaps we could develop a harmless type of cigarette for Madam?”

He Lingji slowly looked up.

His cold eyes were sharp, but he didn’t stop Cong from continuing.

Feeling reassured, Cong pressed on, “I’ve read the script of Old Dreams of Jinghua—there really are many smoking scenes. This specially made cigarette could also be used during filming.”

After all, He was the investor, and Madam the lead actress. Cong had made time in his busy schedule to read the entire script.

He Lingji didn’t respond. His fingers bent slightly, tapping the armrest seemingly absentmindedly.

In the quiet car, only shallow breaths could be heard.

And a faint, rhythmic tapping sound.

“…”

Cong snapped back to attention and added seriously, “Since it’s your first film investment, caring about the actor’s health is something an investor ought to do.”

Finally, a faint and mocking sound escaped the man’s throat: “Cong Zhen, do you know that trying to guess your superior’s thoughts is a grave taboo in the workplace?”

Not a question, but a statement.

Cong Zhen: “…”

Cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.

He had overestimated Madam’s importance in He’s eyes—forgot his place—and forgot that what He loathed most was having his thoughts guessed at, especially guessed wrong.

Thinking of He Lingji’s usual zero-tolerance and ruthless approach, Cong’s face turned ashen.

He was doomed.

But then—

The next second.

He Lingji calmly ordered, “You handle the follow-up.”

In just a few seconds, Cong felt as if he had ascended from hell to heaven.

Thank heavens, thank earth, thank Madam!

It wasn’t an overestimation—it was an underestimation!

…

As dawn approached, a streak of rich rouge color slowly appeared on the horizon, and not long after, the clouds fully dispersed.

Qin Mang was still in a deep sleep.

In her dream, mist swirled and gradually condensed into a mysterious manjusaka flower. Its petals were thin and winding, elegantly unfurling. The flower floated over a cool-toned white canvas, which slowly transformed into the sculpted back of a man. Water droplets cascaded down, soaking black tattoos until they looked alive—seductive, mysterious, and surreal.

Drip drip—

The water droplets grew more dense.

Like scattered pearls.

They trailed down perfect, sculptural lines… lower and lower, until—

Qin Mang sat bolt upright in bed, staring blankly at the wall. Without even bothering to put on slippers, she ran barefoot to the bathroom.

The mirror reflected her face flushed with color, eyes shimmering with emotion.

Qin Mang’s expression was hard to describe.

Ahhhh!

How desperate was she to be dreaming like that?!

This was all that dog He Lingji’s fault!

Clearly, she needed to get back to work. Too much free time led to nonsense like this.

So Qin Mang expressionlessly ordered Meng Ting to fill up her schedule before she joined the film crew.

Meng Ting even wondered if the heiress’s family had gone bankrupt, and she was suddenly forced to hustle for a living.

But the heiress didn’t last more than a few days before crashing.

The fairy was exhausted.

Running from one appointment to the next every day was so hard, and so she turned the tables and accused him: “Are you treating me like a cash cow? Even accepting these useless variety shows and interviews?”

Meng Ting: “…”

He silently prayed for Old Dreams of Jinghua to start filming soon and send their little ancestor into “rehabilitation.”

Originally, Qin Mang thought that since she hadn’t heard from Lin Chenxuan’s side, it was all in the past.

But—

A week later.

After a physical training class, she saw Meng Ting walk in holding his phone, eyeing her from head to toe.

Qin Mang took the soft wet towel from A-Tong and calmly wiped her sweat, glancing sideways. “What are you looking at?”

Dressed in a dark qipao, her figure now more graceful from the intense training, she looked even more enchanting—retaining her natural elegance while now exuding a mature, alluring charm.

“I’m wondering if you secretly went to a fortune master to change your luck.”

Qin Mang: “…”

Her red lips parted.

She wanted to curse him out, but had no words.

After all, none of the lessons from her youth included how to curse people out!

“Speak like a normal person.”

Meng Ting handed her a platinum-gold invitation:

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t land a single decent lead role for two years, and now someone like Director Lin Chenxuan insists it must be you. Don’t tell me you really went and lit incense in a temple?”

Qin Mang: “Stop spreading superstitions.”

Meng Ting: “…”

Qin Mang toyed with the intricately embossed invitation with her porcelain fingers, not even opening it.

Seeing her expression, Meng Ting’s heart trembled. He quickly reminded her, “If you want to make it in film, even if we don’t want to accept Lin’s project, we need to politely decline. Do you even know what ‘polite’ means?”

Especially since Director Lin had shown great humility—and it was for the script.

Qin Mang replied coolly, “Nope.”

To her, it was a foregone decision. Whether she looked or not didn’t matter—why waste time?

It was a great script, but she couldn’t take it. If she dared, her uncle would break her legs.

Meng Ting tried reasoning:
“We’re just getting started. We can’t afford to offend anyone. It’s just a movie screening—three hours tops.”

“Otherwise your Best Actress dreams will…”

“Fine.”

Qin Mang lost her patience, casually slapped the invitation back into his hand, and walked past him. “I’ll go. But I’m not taking the role.”

“Relax.”

“When have I ever forced you to accept a role?”

…

Two hours later.

Qin Mang changed out of her qipao and chose a youthful pleated skirt and school-style top, trying to look as far removed from the lead in Director Lin’s script as possible.

Inside a privately booked theater in Deep City, the lights were dim, with only a faint glow from the screen.

It was clearly an old film, not high-definition, but there was a kind of hazy beauty to it.

As Qin Mang walked down the steps, she noticed the man seated in the second-row corner. His long hair draped over his slim shoulders, and his elegant profile appeared faintly pale in the projection light.

Sensing her arrival, he didn’t turn around and simply said in a calm voice, “Sit.”

Ten minutes into the movie.

Lin Chenxuan suddenly asked, “Still not considering acting in my film?”

It was a foreign movie.

The beginning was dreamy and artistic, about a blonde girl from a small town making it into a top university. But since it was summer, the girl wore very little, and there were occasional revealing shots.

The plot was strong, and Qin Mang—who loved movies—was quickly drawn in. Caught off guard by Lin’s question, a hint of confusion flashed through her beautiful eyes.

She gradually pulled herself out of the movie.

Then she heard Lin Chenxuan calmly offer a new condition, “You have priority in choosing the male lead who plays opposite you.”

In the entire entertainment industry, this was considered a very sincere offer.

Moreover, Director Lin was notorious for being capricious and domineering in casting decisions—no one could ever change his mind once it was made.

Qin Mang stayed silent for a long time.

After about two minutes.

She finally let out a soft sigh and said slowly, “Director Lin, you’re a great director. But I’m not yet a good actress.”

“I really can’t make sacrifices for the sake of film art.”

Lin Chenxuan frowned, thinking Qin Mang wanted to keep bargaining.

Just as he was about to up the offer again, his phone lit up. After he turned it off, it lit up again.

His frown deepened.

Qin Mang, showing some tact this time, said, “If you’ve got something to handle, you can go ahead.”

Lin Chenxuan turned off his phone again and stood up. His pale jaw motioned toward the screen. “You can finish watching the movie before deciding.”

“The content isn’t as explicit as it was in the script—at most, it’s about the same as this film.”

Anything more wouldn’t pass censorship, even abroad.

With that, Lin Chenxuan didn’t wait for Qin Mang’s answer and left the theater.

Outside, his assistant had already been waiting for some time.

In his rush, he didn’t notice the plain black sedan behind the trees nearby, whose headlights flickered for a moment.

…

Qin Mang had been tense for so long that she felt a little tired. Her eyes returned to their usual clear and languid state. Leaning back against the genuine leather armchair, her whole body finally relaxed.

She liked to watch movies from start to finish—once interrupted, it was hard for her to concentrate again.

But not seeing the ending always left her unsatisfied.

Her fingers toyed with her thin phone, a bit bored.

As her eyes accidentally landed on the date—June 8th—she suddenly felt frustrated.

She’d actually missed a legitimate occasion to ask for a gift!

Qin Mang had a tradition when it came to shopping:

No matter the holiday—domestic or international—if there was one, she would buy herself a gemstone as a present.

Otherwise, how would that vibrant, multicolored gemstone collection have come to be?

After calming herself down for quite a while, she began rapidly tapping out a message to Wu Yuxi:

**[Little Watermelon, I’m really miserable. I’ve been so busy I didn’t even get to celebrate June 1st. I was planning to gift myself a ruby coral ornament for Children’s Day, but now I missed it. Gotta wait for the next holiday…]**

**[Being an actress is inhumane!]**

Wu Yuxi replied instantly.

**World’s No.1 Influencer: [What adult celebrates June 1st? Celebrate June 9th instead.]**

**[Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything.]**

**Little Lion Awoo Meow: [June 9th? What kind of holiday is that? Never heard of it.]**

**World’s No.1 Influencer: [Look it up. It’s a restricted holiday—you can only celebrate it with your husband~]**

Husband?

Oh.

She did still have a husband who had been « missing » for seven days without a word.

Thinking of the black card the housekeeper had handed her, Qin Mang gave a low laugh and slowly sent a voice message: “From now on, I’ll spend every holiday with my husband.”

Wu Yuxi: “Hehehe, that’s how it should be.”

Qin Mang took a sip of lemon juice, then opened a search app with one hand and typed: 69

She entered the two numbers and tapped search.

One second later.

She entered an entirely new world.

?

Qin Mang had just taken a sip of lemon juice and nearly choked—What the heck kind of « June 9th » is this!?

Wu Yuxi!

That little pervert!

As she picked up her phone, preparing to video call and « punish » the little pervert, the lemon juice in her hand accidentally sloshed a bit, spilling a few drops onto the screen. In the dim lighting, Qin Mang didn’t notice anything unusual.

Not until she tried to start a video call with Wu Yuxi and the phone unexpectedly switched to the WeChat page of « Cold-blooded Capitalist. »

Qin Mang was completely unprepared.

The video connected.

And revealed the elegant, handsome face of He Lingji.

At that moment, Qin Mang didn’t realize what was wrong. Lips slightly parted, she was just about to say she called the wrong person.

But the next second—

A low, magnetic voice from the other side reached her first, “Mrs. He, what kind of movie are you watching?”

The movie had already progressed to the scene where the female lead meets the young heir at her graduation ball—Qin Mang hadn’t noticed the plot had shifted.

At those words, she instinctively looked up, only to see on the big screen:

On a lavish, retro French bed, behind half-drawn golden sheer curtains, the man and woman had already rolled to the edge.

And their current position—

Was exactly the one she had just searched.

** »Oral sex— »**

** »For me. »**

Qin Mang was shocked by the line, and Lin Chenxuan’s earlier words suddenly echoed in her head—**“The content isn’t too explicit.”**

This? Not explicit?

Any more and it would be straight-up adult film territory!

Wait a minute.

Qin Mang’s slender wrist holding the phone suddenly froze.

Replaying everything in slow motion, she turned her gaze back to the screen—

Only to realize she had been using the **rear camera**, aimed directly at the movie screen!

Her wide black-and-white eyes went round.

She fumbled to switch it to the front camera, but the lemon juice had made the screen unresponsive. While pretending to be calm, she loudly declared, “This is cinematic art! Raise your level of thinking a bit—don’t just have dirty thoughts!”

Finally, she found the power button and shut the phone off.

…

**Ling City, He Corporation Second Branch Office.**

Qin Mang’s righteously indignant words had echoed through the entire large conference room via the phone.

Everyone held their breath.

The meeting had already concluded, but now that they had overheard something they shouldn’t have, and since President He hadn’t said anything, no one dared move.

He Lingji paused thoughtfully, then casually tossed the phone onto the cool silver conference table. As if offhandedly, he said:

“Everyone here was selected for being top-tier talent. I’m sure you all understood the artistic depth my wife just mentioned, right?”

The team exchanged nervous glances.

Who would dare say they didn’t?

But they didn’t dare say they *did*, either.

What if it was a trap?

He Lingji took their silence as understanding and calmly concluded, “I don’t quite get it—why don’t you all explain it to me?”

**“No one leaves until it’s fully explained.”**

**Everyone else: « ! »**