CEO's Sweetheart is a Super Idol-Chapter 384 - 376: Chaotic Fish Pond

Rong City, a certain hotel

Su Xiaoya lay on the sofa, holding her phone with a goofy smile on her face.

If you call me Xiao Ya, I’ll just smile.

I hope you stay happy every day too.

Lan Yening’s reply came quickly—a string of long, smiling emojis.

Staring at the screen, Su Xiaoya seemed to see the breathtakingly beautiful face of her "brother" before her eyes.

Her fingers darted across the screen as she typed:

"Actually, I was never into idol-chasing. I always thought fans were silly before."

"But after meeting you, I finally understand why those girls chase idols."

"From now on, you can treat me like a friend—like one of your inner circle. Saying that won’t make you upset, right?"

Lan Yening replied: "Of course not, I’m your male ’bestie.’"

"Haha, then if you ever feel unhappy, you can talk to me about it. I’m not a crazy fan; I just purely admire and ’like’ you."

"I know you feel the same way about me. Just thinking about how you call me Xiao Ya makes me smile."

Lan Yening’s response popped up:

"Definitely! I see you as one of my ’best bros.’ You understand me so well too, and I hope you keep shining brighter and brighter."

"Also, you’re the most adorable, most positive Xiao Ya out there."

When Su Xiaoya finally put her phone down, she was so blissfully happy that she felt surrounded by pink bubbles of joy.

What she failed to notice was the glaring hostility in Xiao Li’s cat-like round eyes on the other side of the sofa.

However, when Xiao Li looked up towards her so-called closest friend, she was already wearing an innocent, fervent smile: "Xiao Su, you’re so happy. What did Xiao Ning say to you?"

"These are our secrets—they can’t be shared... But you’re my best friend. I can share them with you." Su Xiaoya couldn’t resist the smugness in her heart.

Looking at the exchanged messages, Xiao Li exaggeratedly teased: "Xiao Su, you and Xiao Ning are gonna get in trouble!"

"Trouble? There’s no trouble! We’re just purely besties. Don’t overthink."

"Haha, I’m just joking. But Xiao Ning wouldn’t send similar messages to his other major fans, would he?"

Xiao Li’s words instantly darkened Su Xiaoya’s expression, leaving her quietly stewing in jealousy.

"Sorry, Xiao Ya, I—I misspoke."

"It’s nothing. Whoever he contacts is his choice. But casually messaging fans is against idol rules—those people could hurt him."

Watching Su Xiaoya, Xiao Li snickered inwardly. This girl had clearly become irrational—spouting hypocritical comments with such conviction.

"Right! So we should stick close to Xiao Ning and keep those ’toxic fans’ away from him, especially now while his career is rising."

Su Xiaoya wholeheartedly agreed: "Exactly... Xiao Li, I’m feeling hungry. I want that steamed turtle from the restaurant we went to yesterday."

"Alright, I’ll go get it for you!"

"Here, take my bank card. You know the PIN."

Su Xiaoya handed over a gold card, and Xiao Li took it without hesitation, as though it was perfectly normal.

Holding the card as she walked out of the hotel, Xiao Li toyed with it in her hands several times.

The money on this card was enough to support her parents their entire lives without eating or drinking.

However, for Su Xiaoya, it was merely a month’s allowance.

While following Su Xiaoya’s lifestyle, Xiao Li had seen firsthand what indulgent extravagance and true privilege looked like.

She didn’t realize that Su Xiaoya was watching her from the window above.

Su Xiaoya’s vigilance towards Xiao Li was slowly diminishing.

This girl had never taken advantage of her.

Apart from food, the hotel costs, and some essential expenses,

Xiao Li never accepted gifts from her, insisting that doing so would corrupt their friendship.

Food and shelter, Xiao Li argued, were necessities she couldn’t manage on her own.

When hanging out together, she couldn’t afford those luxuries.

Su Xiaoya was moved by Xiao Li’s honesty, convinced that the girl had no ulterior motives.

Film Set

Lan Yening set down his phone.

He was intentionally trying to engage with certain "second-generation" fans.

He understood that if he wanted to outmaneuver Zhang Shuya’s influence, he needed powerful allies.

"Brother Ning, your scene is up." A script clerk approached him on set.

"Got it," Lan Yening responded with a gracious smile.

A makeup artist arrived to touch up his appearance for the scene.

Today, his role was that of a tender young opera singer victimized by a ruthless warlord.

His costume had been deliberately torn into tatters. To enhance realism, artificial bruises and wounds had been added to his skin.

The makeup artist also refreshed his lipstick—a shade so bold it burned like fire.

After delicately outlining his lips, they added a dab of snake oil balm to make them look softer and fuller.

This was the most provocative role he had taken on since his debut.

However, the production crew for this film was top-notch—it was adapted from a 1930s Huaxia-era novel by Shen Congwen. Zhang Shuya had fought hard to secure this role for him.

Playing opposite him was a veteran actor who also doubled as the film’s executive producer.

Originally a fledgling actor, he had networked his way to success, becoming a prolific investor in projects that turned out to be industry hits. His reputation in the field was highly regarded.

He was the kind of actor audiences recognized instantly on TV but couldn’t name—a quintessential character actor.

However, Lan Yening had developed a deep aversion towards the man, whom everyone respectfully called Brother Le.

The man’s perverse proclivities were infamous in the industry.

Though he didn’t dare openly coerce Lan Yening, he constantly exploited filming "accidents" to grope him, sneaking in unwanted touches.

As the camera crew, lighting engineers, and sound team settled into place, the director shouted action.

"...Please, I beg you, let me go! I’m just a singer."

Lan Yening’s tear-filled eyes darted desperately across the rough wooden floor.

Bald-headed, thick-necked, dressed in a sweat-stained undershirt, wielding a whip, stomping around in riding boots with his gut protruding, Brother Le let out a sinister chuckle. Two subordinates hovered behind him without expression.

"...Let you go? You entered this door; you might as well make yourself comfortable as my golden canary!"

"...No, no! You...you’re shameless!"

Lan Yening flushed with shame and fury, biting his crimson lower lip hard.

Brother Le tilted his head, and the two subordinates moved forward. They seized Lan Yening, binding him tightly to a pillar despite his violent struggle.

Cut!

The scene supervisor shouted, signaling the completion of the shot.

"Let’s keep this take. Next scene!" The director glanced at the playback and decided to proceed without further retakes.

Lan Yening let out a long exhale of relief—after one more scene, his filming for the day would be over, and there wouldn’t be any more scenes like this afterward.

What he didn’t notice was the exchanged look between Brother Le and the director.

The makeup artist rushed over to tousle his hair with a blow dryer.

The goal was to make it look disheveled, as if caused by intense struggling.

Brother Le ogled Lan Yening, feeling his blood pressure rise and his body stir.

This young man was simply too pleasing to the eye.

His porcelain-smooth skin was as flawless as a doll’s.

Despite being male, his boyish charm felt as velvety and delicate as a flower petal.

When the director called action again,

Brother Le limped forward with his frog-like legs, grinning wickedly.

According to the script, Lan Yening was supposed to look scared and embarrassed.

But right now, Lan Yening was genuinely terrified.

His instincts and professional experience warned him that Brother Le had disturbing intentions.

Step by step, Brother Le closed the distance, his bulbous, froggish eyes glimmering with unsettling malice.

He couldn’t get enough of Lan Yening at this moment.

The boy’s aura was captivating, his tear-brimmed eyes full of innocence and charm—he truly resembled the opera apprentices who had trained diligently for years.

Seeing him made one’s heart itch, the desire to stroke him with the whip taking over.

"Kid, stop pretending. Haven’t you heard the saying? To learn well, you first have to sleep with the master."

"Commander, please, let me go. I’m really not that kind of person."

"Hah! Not? Then let me check and see for myself."

Brother Le lunged forward, his bald head bulging with veins, his face twisted into a brutal sneer.

His thick arm muscles bulged, the sleeves straining under the tension. The black whip in his hand rose high into the air.

Lan Yening cried out in terror and despair.

Snap! Snap!

Brother Le’s whip cracked fiercely against Lan Yening’s body.

Of course, he wasn’t truly struck—the camera would cut to Lan Yening’s face while another angle captured a wide shot from behind.

Later, these shots would be edited together during post-production.

Yet deliberately or not, one lash from Brother Le struck across Lan Yening’s thigh.

The blazing pain felt like a hot iron brand searing his skin.

Lan Yening clenched his teeth, enduring through the agony because the director hadn’t yet called for a halt.