WBSGVS Chapter 223 V1

The lead actors were confirmed, the director was in place, and the filming crew was fully assembled.

Once all the contracts were signed, everything proceeded as scheduled.

Under Su Qingli’s direction, the shoot progressed in an orderly fashion. None of the issues Producer Zhang had worried about—like a screenwriter-turned-director being clueless or the footage being utterly unwatchable—ever came up.

She seemed quite experienced. When a scene called for emotion, it hit hard; when it called for humor, it landed; and when it flirted with romance—even if the actors were sweating so much in their heavy period costumes that they lifted their robes to cool their legs—Su only filmed them from the waist up, yet still managed to capture a sweet, smile-inducing intimacy.

She was also great at coaching the actors—everything from line delivery and tone to physical movement.

Sometimes, watching her work, Producer Zhang couldn’t help but think: Is she a real director?

The thought startled even him.

This was his first time working with He Tianzhuo. He’d fought hard for the opportunity—after all, joining the Phoenix Kill production meant instant clout. Even producers needed credentials. But he had never actually seen He Tianzhuo direct before.

What if… the screenplay was written by Su Qingli, and she was the one directing behind the scenes all along? What if He Tianzhuo had just been her puppet, propped up by her and riding high, mistakenly thinking his skills had won everyone over?

The more Zhang thought about it, the more convinced he became. He even started looking at Qingli with a kind of you poor fool expression.

Women…

They give up everything for love.

But look how effective she was now!

In just a single day, she had breathed new life into the production.

“Cut!” a scene ended.

Zhang rushed to take over the assistant’s job, carrying Su Qingli’s insulated cup over to her.
“Director Su, here! I brewed this fresh for you—added some goji berries and brown sugar. It’s sweltering today, make sure to stay hydrated so you don’t get heatstroke.”

“Thanks.” Qingli took it with a nod.

Zhang leaned in excitedly. “Director, can I take a look at the scene we just shot?”

The production was still divided into two units—Team A and Team B. The assistant director led Team B to film supporting roles and background scenes. Qingli was handling the main cast’s scenes. The one they just wrapped was a key moment between the male and female leads.

The female lead had just shown her power, but felt a little down after being betrayed by her maid. Just then, the playful young marquis jumped from a tree to surprise her—but the branch was too high, and he chickened out. So he stood awkwardly on the branch and yelled down, “Hey! Look at me! I haven’t come down yet…”

Zhang loved this couple pairing. Just seeing them walk together gave off major “CP energy.” On camera, when the female lead saw the marquis acting like that, she broke into a spontaneous laugh. Her sorrowful expression lit up like a galaxy, and the marquis laughed too.

Wow, that was a perfect shot.

They’d also done a reshoot of the marquis fumbling his way down from the tree, but Zhang had worried the actress’s first, most natural laugh hadn’t been captured.

Turns out, Director Su had nailed it the first time.

Zhang felt both relieved and satisfied. After watching the footage, he turned to Qingli and said,
“Director Su, by the way… someone leaked that we replaced the director and that the screenwriter is directing now. People online are criticizing us hard. Should we do something about it?”

Qingli waved him off. “No need. The more they talk, the more buzz we get.”

“Well… okay then.” Zhang still felt uneasy, but Qingli’s decisiveness carried weight. The crew now followed her lead without question, and he didn’t dare oppose her.

So he just avoided checking Weibo. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then Qingli patted him. “The official character photos for the male and female leads are ready. Post them tonight. But first, release a short teaser clip to hook the audience. I’ll cut it and send it to your phone in a bit.”

Zhang scratched his head. “Director Su… are you throwing the leads to the wolves as a distraction?”

Qingli looked at him. “What do you think?”

Zhang quickly shook his head. “No, no, not at all! That was dumb of me. Just send it over—I’ll handle it.”

Qingli smiled and opened her laptop to start editing the scene they’d just shot. She had to admit, Ning Xi really was stunning. With makeup on, he was cute and handsome—guaranteed to draw fans.

As for Kong Li, her looks were already impressive, but her acting had matured. Every move and expression brought the book’s gentle, determined, and playfully charming heroine to life.

—

Online, the buzz around Phoenix Kill’s screenwriter-turned-director was reaching a fever pitch.

After days of sleeplessness, He Tianzhuo finally gathered the courage to check Weibo—only to see the trending topic was still all about Phoenix Kill and its screenwriter taking over as director.

Comments were harsh and emotional:

“It’s like she doesn’t even care about her baby. Luli, why be so reckless?!”

“She’s not even trained as a director! Now, Phoenix Kill is just a playground for their couple’s drama. I’m furious!”

“It’s fine to challenge yourself, but know your limits! Don’t ruin a good project just to prove a point.”

People weren’t just criticizing the show—they were going to Su Qingli’s own Weibo to beg her not to ruin her work. Some even said she should apologize to He Tianzhuo and ask him to return to save the production, claiming it was her fault for publicly exposing his “shortcomings,” causing him to quit.

For the first time in days, the gloom on He Tianzhuo’s face lifted slightly. The Weibo feed didn’t feel quite as terrifying anymore.

That said, he still hadn’t gotten over the damage. Su Qingli’s merciless revelation had made him too ashamed to even leave the house, convinced that everyone who looked at him was secretly thinking he can’t perform.

What a humiliating blow to a man’s pride.

Even He Tianzhuo, who had never blamed Zhao Rongrong before, now harbored some resentment.

Why come back after five years? And even if you had to show up, couldn’t you have stayed discreet? Now everything’s blown up and I’ve lost face.

Phoenix Kill—his trump card, meant to prove he wasn’t washed up—was now out of his hands.