Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 217

Su Ci was never good at social niceties.

But luckily, Ke Hua and the two assistants Jiang Yu had arranged were busy handling everything. With the kind of salary Jiang Yu was offering, there was no way these assistants were just there to warm chairs.

Afternoon tea and other little gestures like that might seem trivial, but they made things run smoother on set. A little goodwill could go a long way in avoiding future problems.

Ke Hua walked into the exclusive, multifunctional dressing room Jiang Yu had specially arranged. His eyes nearly popped out of his head—it was so luxurious it looked like something out of a palace.

To be fair, Ke Hua hadn’t seen much of the world. Every artist he’d managed so far was either a background actor or working their way toward being one.

And the few who had managed to catch a break? All poached by Wu Tong through underhanded tricks.

With the AC softly humming and a plush couch under him, Ke Hua leaned back and switched into hype-man mode, piling on the flattery.

“My lucky star! Finding you was like striking gold. I swear I’m retiring after this—I’ll only represent you from now on. My life’s mission is to make you a megastar!”

Yoyo, who was helping Su Ci with her makeup, twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Please. You don’t even know how to use idioms properly. Don’t go embarrassing Ci-jie in public.”

Despite the banter, no one slacked off. When it came to work, they were all professional. On set, all Su Ci had to focus on was memorizing lines and acting.

Jiang Yu had already taken care of everything else.

A specialized team handled her makeup and styling.

Even her wardrobe had been upgraded—Jiang Yu had hired professional tailors to remake all of Su Ci’s costumes from scratch using the best fabrics. The fit and quality easily outclassed everyone else’s.

Still, Ke Hua couldn’t help but worry.
“Hey, don’t you think all this might rub people the wrong way? Word gets out, and it might hurt your reputation.”

There were too many eyes and ears in a production crew. Jealousy ran rampant.

Especially now, with the entertainment industry obsessed with “hardworking underdog” personas. Struggling actors crying on social media about getting no roles while Su Ci had people waiting on her hand and foot? Not a great look.

Take the second male lead of this drama, for example—he’d deliberately leaked a story about fainting from heatstroke during dance practice just to win sympathy.

And under his subtle manipulation, the first male lead, Yan Mo, who was cooling off in the dressing room at the time, got dragged through the mud by rabid fans as a lazy slacker.

But Yan Mo didn’t take it lying down. He immediately posted a video showing the second lead half-assing his dance moves, along with a savage tweet:

[Even my cat’s got better moves. And to the so-called “dance king” who got heatstroke—yeah, I’m talking about you. Not only did I sit in AC, I ate watermelon too. Did I spend your money? No? Then kindly shut it.]

Su Ci chuckled and reassured Ke Hua,
“Don’t worry. Just by landing the role of Wen Yu, we’re already going to be labeled as diva-tier. There’s no avoiding it.”

After all, she had brought funding into the crew—there was no way to argue that point. Having worked as an agent herself, Su Ci knew well: in the end, it all came down to acting skills.

You could market the hardworking angle all you wanted, but if the acting didn’t improve, audiences would tear you apart anyway.

“Hua-ge, help me find some endorsements and commercial appearances. As long as they’re legit, I’ll take anything. Fill up my open schedule.”

“Wait, what??”

Aren’t we already clinging to a golden thigh? Why the hustle?

And besides, the drama Zijin hadn’t even aired yet. Su Ci was basically a nobody. No one knew her—where was he supposed to find brand deals?

Su Ci knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I need money. Fast. If you don’t know where to start, look into beauty and skincare brands first. Reach out privately—don’t go through the agency.”

If Jiang Yu found out, he’d probably try to throw money at the problem again. Then it wouldn’t be her making money to support the family—it’d just be the two of them being used by capital as pawns to turn a profit.

Ke Hua looked at his client’s flawless face.

Actually… this could work.

A beauty brand ambassador—genius idea!

With that, Ke Hua and the assistant rushed off to get started.

Back in the dressing room, Yoyo circled back to their earlier topic: the male lead, Yan Mo.

“He brought funding into the show too. Comes from money. Famous for being hot-tempered. Acting’s decent, though. But don’t worry—our President Jiang’s richer.”

Just as Su Ci finished her hair and makeup, a scream echoed from outside, followed by the sound of people shouting over one another.

Yoyo’s face immediately darkened, alarmed.
“Ci-jie, stay here. I’ll go check it out. What if it’s some crazed stalker fan?”

In the dressing room next door, Sang Miaozhu’s face had swollen and reddened in real time. A burning, stinging sensation made it nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes open.

It started just minutes ago. The makeup artist had been removing her makeup using some cleansing water, and after only two swipes with a cotton pad, Sang Miaozhu had suddenly screamed and shoved the woman to the ground.

“It burns! Why are you trying to hurt me?!”

“I—I didn’t! I didn’t know…”

The makeup artist was stunned. Her hands, which had touched the cleanser, were also burning. She had cuts on her limbs from landing on broken glass during the fall—blood was trickling down.

Tian Zi, sipping her fruit tea from the sidelines, smirked.

Serves you right.

Maybe next time don’t go trash-talking people.

She’d never liked that extra to begin with.

And Shen Ruixuan? Oh, she hadn’t forgotten him either.

The costume pants he was wearing had been soaked in pure capsaicin extract. Once he started sweating… well, let’s just say the swelling would be hard to ignore.

Soon, the injured makeup artist was escorted to the hospital, and the crowd that had gathered dispersed. No one spared Sang Miaozhu—still clutching her burning face and sobbing—a second glance.

It wasn’t heartlessness. This wasn’t the first time she’d caused trouble.

Once, while doing a wire stunt, Sang Miaozhu had skipped proper safety gear. A male actor kindly reminded her—and she accused him of groping her.

Even though the surveillance footage proved he hadn’t even touched her, she still posted about it online to gain traction.

With someone like that, helping her could easily backfire. She might turn around and accuse them of spiking her skincare products just to make a show of “concern.”

Her eyes burning, Sang Miaozhu fumbled for her phone and called Wu-jie—only to hear:

“I’m at the hospital with Shen Ruixuan. Just put some ice on it yourself.”

Where was she supposed to find ice on set?

Left with no choice, Sang Miaozhu dragged herself to the restroom and splashed cold water on her face.

She cried as she rinsed.

It wasn’t just the physical pain. It was her agent ignoring her, her boyfriend not even checking in, and the way everyone else acted like she was invisible.

Every look, every indifference—stabbed her right in the heart.

She began to question everything.

Does Ruixuan really care about me?

If he did, why had he just left her behind and gone to the hospital? What was he doing there? Could he… be involved with that makeup artist?

Her emotions hit rock bottom. Once the burning subsided a little, she stepped out of the restroom—only to spot Su Ci and Yan Mo filming in the studio.

The two of them, dressed in simple blue-and-white school uniforms, looked like the perfect male and female leads in a campus romance novel—flawless faces, striking presence, sitting there like they were born for the spotlight.

Even though Ke Hua wasn’t with Su Ci, her whole team was. Stylists and wardrobe assistants surrounded her. Even a small crease in her skirt was steamed flat.

After each take, a girl would run up to offer water, blot her sweat, touch up her makeup, eyes sparkling as she asked for an autograph and showered her with praise.

Even Yan Mo, known for being sharp-tongued and cold, was unusually sweet around Su Ci.
Calling her “Teacher Su” at every turn, he even offered her one of his boxed meals.

Sang Miaozhu stared, transfixed.

Her hands slowly clenched into fists.

This used to be her.

All this attention, the fanfare—used to be hers.

Should she go try to win Jiang Yu back?

No. She wouldn’t.

What was the point of being powerful through someone else?

Then, a lightbulb went off in her head—something she had overlooked since being reborn.

If Jiang Yu was just a fake CEO… then who was the real heir to the Jiang family?

She vaguely remembered seeing something in the news during her past life—the one who ended up inheriting Jiang Group was a man named Jiang Jibai.

But back then, he hadn’t even taken the Jiang name.

He might even be poor right now.

If she could find him and tell him the truth, maybe he’d treat her as his savior.

Why should she keep scraping by in the entertainment industry, getting humiliated and cast aside?

And if she played her cards right, becoming the real Mrs. Jiang wasn’t out of the question. After all, in her previous life, even the fake one was obsessed with her—throwing money around like there was no tomorrow.