Su Qianqian received the document and immediately forwarded it to Fang Qing, adding a note:
[Fang Qing, once you get the costumes, could you please print this out for me?]
[KittenThanks.jpg]
After sending it, she finally let out a long sigh of relief.
Her scenes for the day were light, so she could head home soon.
In a couple of days, she would be filming several emotional scenes between Lin Wan and the emperor.
She had to nail her performance.
A mischievous glint of anticipation flashed in Su Qianqian’s clear almond eyes.
Tonight, she’d make Gu Chengyu familiarize himself with the character of Emperor Qi Heng—she’d drag him into rehearsing with her.
In a roundabout way, this meant he’d temporarily play the role of Lin Wan’s love interest.
Not only would this keep him from getting jealous, but it would also help her better grasp the emotional depth of her character. A perfect two-for-one.
Fang Qing returned shortly.
"Qianqian, the costumes are in the car, and the character breakdown is printed and bound," she said, handing the neatly stapled document to Su Qianqian.
"Great, thanks, Fang Qing," Su Qianqian replied, flipping through the pages with a satisfied nod.
"Let’s go then—straight home."
Two hours later, the internet erupted again.
First, screenshots of legal notices were simultaneously leaked by several entertainment influencers, targeting the accounts that had hurled vulgar insults at Su Qianqian.
The charges: fabricating facts, malicious defamation, and severely damaging the artist’s reputation.
Then, a less-than-a-minute-long video went viral across major platforms.
It showed several plainly dressed men being escorted into police cars.
The trolls who had been shamelessly asking how much she charged for a night instantly fell silent.
The comment sections became noticeably cleaner.
A few still questioned her acting skills, but their wording was now polite.
Gu Chengyu’s approach wasn’t subtle, but it worked instantly.
Most of those spewing hate online were just ordinary people in real life.
Under the Gu family’s pressure, a conviction for defamation or slander would leave a permanent mark on their police records.
Such a record could haunt them during job hunts, loan applications, or even background checks for their children’s schooling.
Risking their careers, futures, and even jail time just to spout nonsense online?
Only fools would take that bet.
As for those with slightly more status—those who had attended Yun Que’s gambling nights and knew a thing or two—they didn’t dare leave a single trace of commentary after witnessing Gu Chengyu’s ruthless efficiency.
If they absolutely had to vent, they’d privately gossip with their close friends, sneering in envy.
[Wow, the internet’s suddenly so civilized.]
[Who dares mess with someone the Gu family’s shielding?]
[These legal notices and police reports moved at lightning speed. When I sued trolls, the process dragged on for months. Unbelievable.]
[Wake up, sis. We’re not part of the capital circle.]
[Ugh, Su Qianqian’s backing is terrifyingly strong.]
[Even if she did sleep her way up, landing someone from the Gu family is still a skill. I’d do it too…]
[Huh? You still don’t know? Well, you weren’t there that night, and we couldn’t spill.]
[What are you all hinting at?]
[Rumor has it—it wasn’t some old executive. She bagged Young Master Gu himself.]
[The man’s universally considered top-tier. She hit the jackpot.]
...
In his office, Gu Chengyu listened to his subordinates’ reports before personally monitoring the online response.
Watching the hate comments vanish and the new ones turn polite, he scoffed and tossed his tablet onto the desk.
Then he picked up his phone, opened the pinned chat, and tapped Su Qianqian’s avatar. A cute notification popped up: You patted Su Su.
The icy sternness that had hardened his expression all afternoon finally softened.
His girl would be protected—impeccably.
Not a single drop of that filth would ever touch her.
