This wasn’t the outcome he wanted. Not at all.
Since that day, He Tianzhuo hadn’t posted a single word online.
His team advised him to handle the scandal with silence. Letting things cool off made it easier for the public to move on. Without a response, people might just assume it was all gossip. It was frustrating, but honestly, more effective than anything else.
Beyond that, he knew he had to focus on his career.
Su Qingli wanted to prove she didn’t need him to succeed.
But He Tianzhuo didn’t believe she could pull it off. Maybe if they’d hired a different director, it would’ve been fine, but her doing it herself? That would be a joke.
At the same time, he needed to prove that he could thrive without her. Only then could he walk into their next confrontation with enough confidence to win.
Married life, after all, is just a matter of who gets the upper hand. If he didn’t want to be the one crushed, He Tianzhuo had to be the one doing the crushing.
He didn’t log on to Weibo today just to check the buzz about Phoenix Kill—he had an announcement to make.
Over the past few days, he’d been working nonstop, practically around the clock, to pull together a new production team. Now, the news was official:
“Excited to announce that I’ll be directing Sovereign Power. Looking forward to working with @Su Yan, @Zhao Muyun, and the rest of the cast.”
As soon as he posted, the industry professionals who had been closely watching him immediately helped spread the word.
Weibo exploded again. The gossip accounts swarmed in—after days of silence, He Tianzhuo’s comeback was a whole new production!
Netizens still following the drama lit up with excitement. Upon seeing the title, the reactions were instant:
“Whoa! A direct showdown between husband and wife?! This is too good! Staying in the gossip pit was the right move!”
“Are these two about to go full-on divorce war? Waiting for the official divorce announcement!”
“I’m betting on He Tianzhuo to win! A good director is way more important than a good screenwriter!”
“Aaaah, congrats, oppa! Ditch the sesame seed, pick up a watermelon!”
“Seriously, haven’t you all noticed how glued He Tianzhuo is to Zhao Muyun these days? He even dumped that super nice wife just to go head-to-head with her. All the love Su Qingli gave to Su Yan was wasted!”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Su Yan only joined the project because of Director He! And let’s be real, if he quit, it’s probably because Luli did something terrible…”
“Am I the only one betting on Luli to win? Holy crap, did you guys not see that teaser Phoenix Kill just dropped?! The chemistry is off the charts!”
“Shut up, shills!”
“Get lost, paid posters! Stop pretending this thing is good!”
“…Okay, I take it back. That teaser was so good. You guys have to watch it! That is exactly how I imagined the leads! Seriously!”
He Tianzhuo’s face, which had just started to look less grim, froze once more. His lips tightened into a thin line as he exited his own Weibo page and went to search.
And there it was—trending near the top: #PhoenixKillTeaser
His frown deepened. Even as he clicked the video, he didn’t believe Su Qingli could have pulled anything decent off. She had never directed before. She was the kind of person who wouldn’t even bother taking photos—how could she possibly shoot a quality scene?
But the moment it started, a silhouette of a woman appeared. Her posture as she walked was carefree, almost triumphant—but beneath it, something lonely lingered.
She was walking from light into shadow. Alone. And the mood hit instantly.
He Tianzhuo’s heart skipped slightly—then a voice called out from up in a tree:
“Hey! Look at me! I can’t get down!”
The camera panned naturally upward from below, revealing a boy clinging to the tree. His features were sharp yet youthful, his expression embarrassed but tender.
He smiled sheepishly, concern flickering in his eyes.
“Come on, help me down~”
The girl, visibly out of sorts at first, slowly brightened. Watching him flail around trying to climb down, red-faced and awkward, she finally laughed.
The teaser was short—only ten seconds.
But when it ended, He Tianzhuo’s expression was even darker than before. His heart sank.
The new lead actors were unexpectedly perfect together. And as someone who had pored over that script countless times, he had to admit—this pairing was stunning.
Even more disturbing was the way the teaser was shot. Though brief, the directing techniques were unmistakably refined. As someone with years of directing experience, he knew this wasn’t the work of a novice.
After that incident, he had completely cut ties with Su Qingli, but he’d still heard rumors—ones saying she was directing Phoenix Kill herself.
He hadn’t believed them.
He Tianzhuo picked up his phone and called someone.
“Find out if Phoenix Kill has another director.”
There’s no way Su Qingli shot this. She probably hasn’t even touched a camera in her life.
His assistant agreed, and the call ended.
He Tianzhuo clicked to watch the teaser again, but this time, he accidentally activated the comment overlay (danmu).
Immediately, the screen flooded with reactions, especially during the upward camera shot:
“Ahhhhh the little marquis is too cute! I love him already!”
“OMG, Luli got Ning Xi for this?! She’s crazy good at casting!”
“So beautiful! That smile from the female lead—absolutely stunning!”
“OMG OMG OMG my baby marquis jumped straight out of the book! He’s her emotional support! Every time she’s sad, he shows up!”
“I knew this scene! It’s right after she got betrayed by her maid and is returning in triumph—this is textbook adaptation done right! Literal page-to-screen magic!”
“The female lead is gorgeous too… that backlit silhouette, it hurts my heart…”
“If the quality stays like this, this show is going to be a smash hit!”
“Long live Luli! Let that useless man see you don’t need him! I was so mad before—Luli was so good to him, and he kept getting into scandals! Even if they were just meaningless flings, it was infuriating!”
“I swear I’ll be glued to my TV just for this teaser alone!”
Public response doesn’t lie, and He Tianzhuo had always been someone who paid close attention to viewer feedback.
Now, as he stared at the screen, his expression darkened further. He exited Weibo immediately.
Just then, his assistant called back:
“Director He, they don’t have another director. The assistant director is handling the B-roll… your wife—uh, I mean Ms. Su—is directing Team A.”
He Tianzhuo took a deep breath and replied in a low voice, “Got it.”
He ended the call and furrowed his brows.
Unbelievable.
A screenwriter… who shot something this decent?
If she could keep this level up, Phoenix Kill really might succeed.
Maybe it was a female screenwriter’s particular instinct for emotion?
Still, there was one silver lining.
He Tianzhuo had analyzed this before—Phoenix Kill’s real strength lay in its thrilling schemes and satisfying revenge arcs. On that front, his current script might fall short.
But if Su Qingli’s take was now leaning more on romance due to her personal feelings?
That gave him an opening.
He’d just increase the emotional drama between Su Yan and Zhao Muyun. Su Yan had way more pull with TV audiences than Ning Xi. No way could some first-time director beat him at a romance-driven narrative.
Or so he told himself.