Chapter 41: To Whom Does She Belong?

As she slowly walked from the snowy ground toward the rest area of the photography studio, Chu Luoxi could clearly feel the temperature rise sharply—a difference that was truly extraordinary.

“Here, milk tea.”

A steaming cup of milk tea was handed to her. Chu Luoxi hurriedly took it, instinctively muttering a “thank you” before raising her eyes to see who had spoken. It turned out to be the female assistant by Xiao Jingxuan’s side.

She looked over at Xiao Jingxuan with a hint of puzzlement, just in time to see his male assistant hand him a cup of hot water. How odd, she thought—why did he need so many assistants? Chu Luoxi was somewhat confused. In her previous life, it had been exposed that the team around Master Xiao did not include any women. This was why the notoriously scandal-free Xiao was publicly assumed to be “gay.” This rumor was so persistent that whenever a female celebrity tried to stir up gossip about herself and Xiao, not only did the public refuse to believe it, even the journalists scoffed.

Could it be that at this point in time, Xiao’s team actually had a woman? Chu Luoxi’s eyes brightened with a flash of curiosity; all kinds of inside stories—she was very interested.

While she was watching Master Xiao, others watched her with equal curiosity. For instance, the female assistant who had just handed her the milk tea was looking at her with sparkling eyes: “Hello, I’m Ding Ju, Xiao Jingxuan’s newly hired assistant.”

After introducing herself, Ding Ju silently grumbled and glanced away. She was indeed Xiao Jingxuan’s new assistant, but earlier, the formidable Ji had specifically instructed her that she needn’t attend to Xiao Jingxuan, and should instead focus on taking care of her employer’s junior. It left her confused—whose assistant was she, really?

Chu Luoxi didn’t quite understand the emphasis on “newly hired,” but she smiled and nodded. “Hello, I’m Chu Luoxi.” Her mind was still lingering on the gossip about Master Xiao, and she took an unconscious sip of milk tea, feeling warmth return to her body from within.

“How does it taste? What flavor do you prefer? I can get you another next time.” Ding Ju seemed in good spirits, feeling that Chu Luoxi was easy to get along with, which put her at ease.

Blinking, Chu Luoxi found it a bit odd but replied, “Strawberry, please!” In matters of daily life, she never forced herself unless absolutely necessary.

Soon enough, it was time for dinner. Ding Ju brought her a boxed meal, and Chu Luoxi felt especially grateful—having an assistant was truly wonderful! She had just opened the box and hadn’t yet seen what dishes were inside when she suddenly remembered something important: How had Zhu Xueshuang and Liu Yujia’s auditions gone?

So, when Xiao Jingxuan entered, he saw Chu Luoxi absentmindedly pinching a pair of disposable chopsticks, clutching the hem of her costume, bending over searching for something. Her actions were rather perplexing. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

Chu Luoxi straightened up and shook her long, dark hair. “My bag—I distinctly remember leaving it here. Where could it have gone?” Surely it was a joke; people came and went constantly, and there were always attendants. How could something disappear?

Xiao Jingxuan raised an eyebrow and placed his boxed meal on the table. “I asked Ding Ju to put your bag in my car. There are too many people coming and going here—it’s not safe.”

“Oh, we can talk about it later then!” Chu Luoxi breathed a sigh of relief, thinking her bag was truly lost. The monetary loss was secondary; the real problem would be the hassle, since all her IDs and bank cards were inside. Reporting them lost and replacing them would be a disaster.

“If you need anything, you can ask Ding Ju. For the next few days, you can borrow her as your assistant.” Xiao Jingxuan spoke calmly.

“Heh, thanks.” Chu Luoxi accepted without fuss—since he had offered, refusing would be rude. Besides, having an assistant nearby really was much more convenient.

“What do you need?” Xiao Jingxuan brought the conversation back, seemingly in an offhand way.

“My phone! You know Director Li Shuangmu is filming a new drama, right? My two roommates auditioned for the lead female roles today, and I want to ask how it went.” Chu Luoxi was certain Xiao Jingxuan would know. Many things within the industry were hardly secrets, and Li Shuangmu hadn’t tried to conceal it.

Xiao Jingxuan paused, chopsticks in hand, surprise unmistakable on his face. “Your roommates? Why not you?”

Given the brief acquaintance from “Dragon Roars Across the World,” even if Li Shuangmu was recruiting actors at Imperial Shadow, it should have been Chu Luoxi. How did it end up with her roommates? It made no sense.

It was rare to see Master Xiao display such obvious thoughts, and Chu Luoxi let out a laugh. “I recommended them. He’s filming a youthful campus idol drama, and I don’t want to act in it.”

Hearing this, Xiao Jingxuan couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. This woman was even more formidable than he was. She hadn’t even officially debuted, yet when someone came seeking her, she not only declined but recommended others—and not just the lead, but the second female as well? He really didn’t know what to say…

Sensing Xiao Jingxuan’s speechlessness, Chu Luoxi smiled. “He said investment was tight, and the drama is meant to promote the male lead. I thought, looking for new talent outside would be just as good, and student actors cost less. So I casually made a recommendation. But Director Li was genuinely interested in my roommates, so he had them audition today.”

So that’s how it was. Xiao Jingxuan’s brow twitched. Someone wanted to spotlight a male lead but still lacked funding? How was Li Shuangmu still struggling like this—was it a favor for a friend?

Chu Luoxi eyed Master Xiao’s boxed meal and began to eat contentedly, still a bit puzzled. Back during the “Dragon Roars Across the World” shoot, there were explanations for not making exceptions, but now, filming an MV, the entire crew was his own people. Yet he still ate boxed meals so frugally? Tsk tsk, Senior Xiao was indeed very disciplined. Those rumors in her previous life about him being a diva were surely just jealousy or tabloid fodder. Look at him now—where was the diva behavior?

“Do you think this story will make a good drama?” Xiao Jingxuan took a few bites, his mind drifting.

“Yes, as long as the process is handled well and the filming is beautiful, it can definitely become a classic of the fantasy genre. The story isn’t particularly novel, but there aren’t many like it in today’s film market. It’s either demon-mortal, immortal-mortal, or mortal-mortal stories; one side is always banished, reincarnated, or something similar. Who knows if audiences are tired of it—and I don’t know who started the trend, but the male leads are almost always delicate scholars, utterly useless. I used to wish they’d just swap out the actor,” Chu Luoxi said, sighing and shaking her head.

Compared to the vast world of web novels, the story wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but the film industry had yet to really explore it.

“I really don’t get it—what’s so great about scholars? All those immortals and demons, rushing to fall for them? What do they like? Their kindness? If you’ve never managed a household, you don’t know the price of oil and salt, yet everyone loves a destitute, indecisive scholar. I just can’t see the appeal.”

Truth be told, the tragedy in these stories often stemmed from the scholar’s indecisiveness—or rather, their so-called kindness, which bordered on having no backbone at all!