Ch 43: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

She couldn’t help but say, “Yiyi, maybe you should…”

Go apologize to that person?

No one understood better than Amy how extraordinary Qin Leyi’s resources had been these past two years.

And precisely because she understood, she couldn’t believe the relationship between Qin Leyi and that man had been just a simple sugar-daddy arrangement.

She didn’t know why Qin Leyi had offended him, but since he had once genuinely cared, if Qin Leyi bowed her head and apologized, surely he wouldn’t go so far as to cut her off completely?

Unfortunately, Amy didn’t know what Qin Leyi had actually done. If she had known that Qin Leyi had betrayed the very top figure behind Glory, she would never have thought of advising her to apologize.

She would’ve packed her bags that very night, making it crystal clear she and Qin Leyi had nothing beyond a work relationship.

Qin Leyi cut her off.
“Sister Amy, don’t say anything else. Prepare the termination paperwork for me.”

Amy was startled. “Terminate your contract?”

Her heart raced as she searched Qin Leyi’s face for a trace of joking.
“Don’t be crazy. Do you even realize how much your penalty fee is?”

Qin Leyi’s tone was low.
“Of course I know. But I have no future left at Glory. Even if I have to sell everything I own, I must leave.”

She looked at Amy, her expression apologetic.
“Sister Amy, I’m sorry for all the effort you’ve put into me.”

Amy’s chest tightened.

As her agent, she had benefited greatly from Qin Leyi’s rise these past two years.

Besides, while Qin Leyi sometimes had a temper, she was generous and easy to get along with. They had genuine rapport.

She asked softly, “There’s really no other way?”

Remembering that hospital room, that indifferent face and merciless words, Qin Leyi’s expression cooled.
“No need to say more. Just prepare the termination.”

Amy sighed and turned to gather the paperwork.

Meanwhile, in another ward, Mu Xing received a message from Glory Entertainment’s manager.

“Terminate her contract?” Mu Xing nodded. “Good.”

The manager knew about their relationship, and knew how much Mu always used to like his girlfriend. But he had no idea why the two had fallen out.

He asked, “Then, President Mu, should we make things…difficult in the process?”

Glory’s legal team was the same one under Zhaoxing Group—among the best in the industry. If they wanted to, they could skin Qin Leyi alive.

Mu Xing shook his head.
“No need. Just follow the normal procedure. Handle it as you see fit.”

He didn’t want to see that woman again. Since Qin Leyi herself wanted to terminate and was willing to pay, there was no point dragging it out.

And so the process went unusually smoothly.

Qin Leyi’s fans kept waiting for an explanation from the company—or for her to come forward to fight back.

But what they got instead was a bombshell from well-known paparazzo Huahuazi:

#Top rising star Qin Leyi terminated her contract with Glory Entertainment the other day, paying a penalty in the tens of millions!#

The report connected this with her recent string of canceled appearances, hinting that she must have offended the higher-ups at Glory.

The scoop immediately shot to the top of the hot search.

No one knew Huahuazi’s true identity, but he always managed to be one step ahead, exposing secrets no one else knew.

He had once insinuated that Qin Leyi had powerful backing, and was viciously attacked by her fans for it.

Back then, Mu Xing had suppressed it.

But this time, no one did PR for her.

Fans swarmed her Weibo, demanding answers. Glory Entertainment’s official account was flooded with comments. Even the company’s phone lines were jammed.

Finally, Qin Leyi spoke:

@QinLeyiV: I have now terminated my contract with Glory Entertainment. The past two years were the most brilliant of my life, and I don’t regret them.

This confirmed Huahuazi’s report.

She didn’t even deny that she had personally paid the astronomical penalty.

Glory followed up with a statement: the cooperation between Glory Entertainment and Miss Qin Leyi had ended.

Compared with Qin Leyi’s polite farewell, Glory’s announcement was cold and formulaic.

First her roles and appearances were taken away.

Then she terminated her contract, paying a sky-high penalty.

Then Huahuazi’s explosive scoop.

No one doubted it anymore—Qin Leyi had offended someone.

And that someone had to be high up in Glory Entertainment.

How could her fans swallow such an injustice?

They flooded all of Glory’s social media accounts, and started digging into the dirt of the company’s executives.

They even uncovered some: a deputy GM’s affair, a director’s questionable orientation, and so on.

None of it had anything to do with Qin Leyi.

But it was enough to make many nervous. For a while, the higher-ups at Glory all felt on edge.

And this was only the beginning.

Her fans, convinced their idol had been wronged, turned their attacks on Glory’s other artists when they found no more dirt on the executives.

Among them, the worst hit was Jiang Zhi—the actress who had “stolen” Qin Leyi’s lead role.

She was viciously harassed online. Even her home address was leaked. One night, someone knocked on her door and left a bloody dead rat outside.

And yet those extreme fans still felt they were the ones wronged—fighting for their Yiyi’s injustice.

[For two years Yiyi has worked so hard—how much money did she earn for Glory? Paying tens of millions in penalty fees—Glory, you’re heartless!]

[I looked it up. This lousy company has only been around for two years, right? Yiyi’s the only real top star there. They sucked her dry for two years and now kicked her to the curb. Glory, I curse you to go bankrupt tomorrow!]

[So who exactly did Yiyi offend? Don’t tell me she refused some sleazy old man’s casting couch and got retaliated against?]

[Glory is doomed to flop—may every artist under Glory flop straight to the earth’s core!]

While cursing Glory, these fans also went everywhere promoting Qin Leyi, telling everyone how miserably she’d been bullied.

…

The situation escalated so much that hot-tempered people like Jiang Zhi had already called the police, sent lawyer’s letters, and were preparing to sue.

A few lesser-known small artists were tormented to the point of utter misery.

From start to finish, Qin Leyi didn’t say a word—in fact, she was pleased to see it happen.

How could she not harbor some resentment toward Mu Xing for being so heartless?

And after this wave of fan-driven ferment, the story became: she was maliciously targeted by the company, refused the casting couch, couldn’t fight the powers that be, and had to pay an astronomical penalty with tears in her eyes…

A textbook “beautiful, strong, tragic” figure, winning over who knows how many casual onlookers as fans.

In this story, Glory Entertainment naturally became the ultimate vicious villain.

Glory, which had been preparing for an IPO, suffered a heavy blow. Forget listing—many partners hinted they wanted to terminate collaborations with its artists.

Mu Xing originally knew nothing about this.

In the hospital, his shelves held a dozen-odd sets of children’s literature that Mu Shao had bought him. Each day he read a bit, sipped his health tea; aside from his immobile legs, the rest of his injuries were mostly fine.

He wasn’t the type to follow entertainment gossip, and now he had every reason to focus on recuperating, setting aside company matters—let alone a Qin Leyi he’d already pushed from his mind.

It was Mu Shao who called him.

Mu Shao knew Qin Leyi was his brother’s girlfriend, but not what had happened between them. Seeing the gossip, he sent Mu Xing the link with three question marks:

【What’s going on, bro—you broke up? Even if you did, it didn’t have to get this ugly, right?】

He didn’t particularly care about Glory Entertainment—this small company his brother had built for a girlfriend was nothing compared to the vast Zhaoxing Group.

He was curious about his brother’s love life.

Mu Xing didn’t reply. He clicked into the link and finally understood what had been happening.

He called the general manager of Glory Entertainment.

The other party spoke with a forced smile:
“You’re recuperating—we didn’t want to bother you with a small matter like this.”

Mostly, they were afraid of being scolded and wanted to handle it themselves.

Mu Xing sighed.

He had no idea why Qin Leyi could stir up so much trouble.

He hadn’t planned to get involved at all—who would’ve thought her fans would go this crazy?

As for this big farce, if anyone said it didn’t have her tacit approval—or even her fanning the flames—Mu Xing would never believe it.

He couldn’t understand: was Qin Leyi so certain that, for the sake of pride, he would hide the fact he’d been cheated on?

Well… thinking about the original him, he might indeed have swallowed it for the sake of face.

As for Qin Leyi’s thinking, he could guess: since she’d already fallen out with Mu Xing and wouldn’t get anything good from him, she might as well fish some benefits out of it.

What she hadn’t accounted for was that her ex-boyfriend had been replaced by someone else.

Mu Xing couldn’t fathom the original Qin Leyi’s mindset.

She was the one who had actually cheated, yet she acted so fearless.

Mu Xing was clearly the victim—yet he still had to cover up her secret?

Why?

Mu Xing picked up his phone and messaged a news site the original him contacted frequently.

The reporter arrived at the hospital dressed very formally, with an equally proper team in tow.

A little over an hour later, they left looking somewhat shell-shocked.

That night at 8 p.m., prime time when netizens are most active—

A piece of news dropped out of nowhere.

A highly authoritative yet niche financial news website published an entertainment-gossip article.

The site’s traffic wasn’t large, because its content was usually sober, abstruse coverage of economic and current affairs—mostly read by business magnates and students in related fields.

But that day, on the right side of the homepage, they placed a story tied to the hottest topic of the moment.

Many people clicked in.

Ten seconds later, they clicked out in confusion, double-checked the URL to make sure they hadn’t gone to the wrong site, then, curiosity piqued, clicked back in again.

And of course, they shared it.

Once the interview hit the public eye, it inevitably—

Blew up.

“Did rising actress Qin Leyi get suppressed for refusing the casting couch? No—the truth is here!”

The title sounded like clickbait from a sketchy marketing account.

But once you clicked in—

The content was rigorous, well-argued, with evidence piled up like a mountain. Most importantly…

The interviewee was the other true principal in this entire affair.

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