Chapter 91: Film Emperor (11)

“Tong Jianxu? His reputation in the industry is pretty good—he doesn’t act like a diva, he’s kind and polite, and most importantly, his professional skills are top-notch. Just look at how many awards he’s won. He’s basically swept all the prestigious ones in the country.”

“As for his private life, there really isn’t much to say. Most of the gossip about him floating around the industry is fake. From what I know, the rumors from his early days about ambiguous relationships with directors, rich ladies, or actresses were all nonsense.”

“So when he suddenly showed up with a daughter recently, we were all really shocked. No one had caught a photo of his partner or daughter in over three years—no one in the industry knew anything. It’s like she popped out of a crack in a rock, that’s how well he hid her.”

Zhang, the executive assistant, kept tapping away at her phone, checking with several contacts. Notification dings rang out constantly.

Another friend sent over a message:

“The Film Emperor Tong? I really like him! You remember I used to do interviews, right? I met all kinds—some would show up super early or ridiculously late. But Tong showed up right on time. Not too early so we wouldn’t be scrambling to entertain him, and not late so we didn’t have to wait.”

“He answered questions sincerely, very thoughtful too, no annoying catchphrases or tics. Talking to him was relaxing. Some stars treat you like you’re trying to dig into their privacy, and they get all combative. Some just sit there saying ‘uh-huh, um,’ and we have to rescue the conversation.”

“That day, I wore a skirt and didn’t realize it was at a bad angle on camera—he quietly reminded me. I swear, I melted on the spot. And he’s just so good-looking.”

A flood of compliments followed.

Next came a message from an older classmate:

“Tong Jianxu? He’s quite a formidable guy. Don’t let that ethereal look fool you—he’s not simple. People say he’s low-key and uncompetitive, but that’s because they haven’t seen how hard he fought in the early days. He literally risked his life for roles. If he were really some harmless flower boy, he wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“I remember someone in his debut cohort kept targeting him. But once Tong rose to fame, that guy basically vanished without a trace.”

“People in the industry who crossed him—some left the scene altogether, some are now livestreaming just to sell products. Seriously, ‘a gentleman’s revenge may come ten years later.’ He’s got a sharp eye—snagged shares in Xinghong Entertainment, and teamed up with a powerhouse agent. His image management is brilliant. He’s on a pedestal now.”

“His agent, Feng Yu, is super slick too. When the daughter scandal broke recently, Jiang Jin tried to drag Tong down to cool off his own heat. But Feng Yu flipped it around and completely trashed Jiang’s rep, stealing a bunch of endorsements and deals in the process.”

“Then suddenly, news broke about someone doing drugs, someone else sleeping with fans—it shifted public attention completely off Tong. A lot of us suspect Feng Yu was behind it. Otherwise, how is it such a coincidence that everyone exposed had beef with Tong? And right at that exact moment?”

“After all that, people were saying compared to those criminals, having a daughter is no big deal. Boom—reputation cleaned up.”

…

Zhang sent out red envelopes one by one and calmly reviewed all the messages, compiling them.

Besides the basic info—Tong Jianxu’s age, address, and such—she’d originally hoped to dig up some juicy secrets. But he was practically flawless.

A person like this either truly lives a simple, transparent life… or is hiding a massive secret.

After asking around, all she got were surface-level facts. His private life was a black box. Even insiders said he rarely socialized and didn’t have close industry friends. As for his daughter and wife? Practically no information—almost suspiciously little.

Zhang switched tactics and joined an anonymous chat group, tapping quickly on her screen.

This finally turned up some useful stuff.

Someone who worked at the city hospital said Tong Jianxu might have some psychological issues—he’d been prescribed antidepressants there. There might have been something else too, but they weren’t sure.

People were also digging into the mystery daughter, but turned up nothing concrete. Just wild theories with no evidence.

However, someone trying to look into his family did find out that Tong likely had a rough childhood.

Unfamiliar with the entertainment world, Zhang followed a friend’s suggestion and dug into some obscure forums. That’s where she uncovered the old gossip.

His parents passed away when he was young. Instead of being raised by his paternal grandparents, he lived with his maternal ones.

A former neighbor once revealed that Tong wasn’t liked by his grandfather—neighbors could often hear the old man yelling at him. Except for school, he wasn’t allowed to go out.

When he was discovered by a director in his teens and starred in a hit movie, he didn’t continue acting because his grandparents disapproved. His grandfather reportedly got so angry about Tong becoming famous that he beat him.

Around that time, his grandfather suffered a stroke. Tong stopped acting and even delayed his schooling for a year to care for the old man.

Later, his grandmother also fell ill. Only after both grandparents passed did he re-enter the entertainment world.

There was even an old paparazzi shot in one of the posts—Tong in his early teens, looking young and delicate, his fair face bruised, his hand bandaged, carrying a bag of fruit, walking with his head down.

Even exhausted and scrawny, he was still stunning.

Zhang saved that photo alongside a recent one where he was snapped at a hospital holding a child. All of it went into her research folder.

After the film festival, Tong Jianxu brought the child back to H City to continue filming.

In just a few days, the weather had suddenly cooled down.

Qian swapped out her little dresses for long sleeves and pants. Mornings and evenings required a jacket—one with a shark pattern and a little tail sewn onto the back.

Worried she might catch a cold with the seasonal change, Tong also bought her a little hat. It had two rounded ears, like a kitten’s, and looked ridiculously cute on her.

The moment the manager Feng Yu saw Qian during her visit to the set, she broke into a loving smile and scooped her up for a round of affectionate squishing. She only put the child down when Tong Jianxu finished his scene and came over.

“Not bad, you didn’t lose too much weight filming this time.” Feng Yu gave her artist a once-over. The last time Tong Jianxu returned to S City to receive an award, she had been away on other business and missed him. This was her first time seeing him in person since then.

“I thought with you filming and taking care of a child at the same time, you’d be even skinnier than before.” Her tone was full of satisfaction.

In the past, after shooting projects that lasted seven or eight months, he’d always come back visibly thinner. It would take her a lot of effort—and several different nutritionists—to nurse him back.

“It’s because Qian is taking care of Daddy this time.” Tong Jianxu sat down to rest and smiled, waving to his daughter.

He pulled her into his lap, her soft, chubby little body naturally leaning against him.

“Daddy’s legs are sore, Qian, want to massage Daddy’s legs?”

The child rested her two short legs on his and started kicking enthusiastically at his thighs with her sock-clad feet.

Feng Yu: “…”

This is what you call a leg massage? And look at this dumb dad—so proud and content he’s practically glowing. Unbelievable.

While Feng Yu’s assistant went around the crew distributing care packages, Feng Yu stayed to chat with Tong Jianxu, mostly about the child and family life.

Tian Miao came over with a bag of fruit. The moment she saw Feng Yu, she immediately wiped the smile off her face and adopted a cautious demeanor. Managers weren’t as easygoing as Movie Emperor Tong—one small mistake and she’d be scolded.

“Qian said she wanted to eat baby watermelon, so I went nearby to buy some,” she explained quickly, afraid Feng Yu would think she was slacking off.

Feng Yu gave her a glance but said nothing.

Tong Jianxu took the watermelon and said, “Daddy will cut the watermelon for Qian. Let’s cut it open from the watermelon’s butt so Qian can scoop it out, okay?”

Qian corrected him: “That’s not the watermelon’s butt.”

Tong Jianxu changed tack: “Okay, then let’s cut from the watermelon’s head.”

Qian replied again: “It’s not the watermelon’s head either.”

Holding a fruit knife near the watermelon’s stem, Tong Jianxu asked, “Hmm? Then what is it?”

Qian declared: “It’s the watermelon’s belly button.”

The child’s whimsical thinking sounded odd at first, but made some sense on second thought. After all, belly buttons are where umbilical cords connect, and the watermelon stem connects to the vine.

Tong Jianxu laughed and went along with her, cutting the melon open as she suggested.

After seating Qian next to him with her watermelon, Tong Jianxu stood up and walked off to chat with Feng Yu.

Feng Yu rarely had time to visit the set—naturally she wasn’t just here for small talk.

“You asked me to look into the boss of Wild Games, and I did,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“I didn’t find any connection between him and your daughter. But I did find something else. He had a daughter back when he was in school—he was about 20, the girl was around two. Coincidentally, his daughter’s name was also Qian. Look.”

Tong Jianxu looked at the photo on her phone.

A rebellious-looking young man held a flower-like little girl in his arms. They looked very similar, both wearing matching parent-child T-shirts.

Tong Jianxu nodded and commented, “Those matching T-shirts look nice. I’ll get some for me and Qian next time.”

Feng Yu rolled her eyes and swiped through a few more pictures: “This was when he started his company.”

“And this one—the kid looks about five or six.”

In the photo, the little girl had big round eyes and puffed cheeks, sipping yogurt—the same kind Qian loved.

Feng Yu said, “That child died young, in a car accident. After that, there’s no sign of any other children around him. I think you may be mistaken. The boss probably just noticed Qian’s name and paid a bit more attention because it reminded him of his own daughter.”

Tong Jianxu shook his head. “No.”

He clearly felt that Qian was the one paying special attention to that man. And since they returned from S City, she’d been acting strangely—he had noticed.

“Forget it. Just send me all the photos, sis.”

While Tong Jianxu and the manager chatted, Qian gnawed on watermelon, the blue light before her eyes flickering. The system’s voice reappeared beside her ear.

【Host, have you decided? My suggestion is for your own good—it’s the best choice.】

【As long as you’re willing to accept the luck value of target character Tong Jianxu after completing the conquest, you can live peacefully in this world and have an easier time in the next.】

【Even though you’ll lose your current daddy, you don’t need two dads. You can reunite with your original dad, Zaiye. Haven’t you always wanted to see him again?】

【Isn’t it painful to die young in every world? Don’t you want to grow up? To live safely and soundly for decades here?】

Ever since she saw Zaiye in S City, this long-silent system had started tempting her again, repeating similar lines.

All she had to do was give one up, and she could keep the other—and survive.

This wasn’t the first time the system had watched a host make such a choice. No matter how firm they were in the early worlds, once they reunited with their first love, they could rarely choose to separate again. They’d follow the system’s advice, sacrifice one target character, and stay with the other longer.

But once that decision was made, it became impossible to stick to the original intent in future worlds.

This time, though, the system was dealing with a three-year-old.

A child this age didn’t think so much. Her only reaction—was to find her “clapper” and chase the system around, swatting at it.

When Tong Jianxu returned from talking with his manager, he saw his daughter once again swatting at empty air.

She’d done this odd action more than once or twice lately. Sometimes she’d be fine one moment and suddenly get up angrily to smack at the air.

At first he thought it was mosquitoes, so he bought her mosquito-repellent patches. But later, with no bite marks or flies found, he started to worry that something might be wrong with her.

One of the reasons Feng Yu had come today was because Tong Jianxu had urged her to help bring the child to see a doctor—just to check whether there was something wrong with her eyes.