“If the exposé is true, it seems like her final line was directed at those who forced her out of the entertainment industry.”

“No wonder it was so heartfelt. What a massive injustice!”

“For her to reveal this now, it must be true.”

“The evidence is there, but why is it only coming out now?”

“Could it be that she didn’t have anyone backing her before? Even if she had tried to expose it, she would’ve been crushed by powerful interests. But now, with the ‘Entertainment Judge’ on her side…”

“You guessed it right. I found reports of a police record from when she reported the incident, but due to insufficient evidence, it couldn’t be pursued. The news was suppressed, and barely any netizens knew about it. Those who did dismissed it as attention-seeking, and it all faded away. If the law couldn’t help her, how could she stand against public scrutiny alone?”

“I never criticized her back then. Does that mean I’m better than 90% of netizens? I always thought it was odd—how could a minor actress bring down an entire company? It never made sense.”

“It seems some things never change, from ancient times to now. If you fail, don’t shift the blame onto women.”

“It’s easier to deflect blame onto a woman, because questioning any other reason invites pushback and might highlight incompetence. But blaming a woman makes her defenseless—after all, ‘it’s always for the sake of a woman.’”

“As someone in the finance world, I can say she was the perfect scapegoat. Those films weren’t the reason the company nearly collapsed; it was their own poor management and financial troubles. The film investment just became a convenient excuse for that tycoon to save face.”

“Wow, more D-list actresses are now coming forward with stories of being harassed by that tycoon. He’s clearly a repeat offender!”

“I want to cut off my own hand. Just earlier, I was in that tycoon’s wife’s comments supporting her. She’s just as awful—her husband drugged and harmed someone, and she still wanted to destroy that woman’s reputation. Truly, birds of a feather stick together!”

“What company is this? Wait, it’s publicly traded? Guys, should we let this company’s stock stay afloat? Absolutely not!”

Soon, any account connected to the company faced an onslaught of online attacks. Employees who were casually watching the premiere at home were suddenly bombarded with urgent calls, instructing them to handle the PR crisis.

But no matter what statements they issued, it was useless. The momentum of the Top Flow Group and the ‘Entertainment Judge’ was unstoppable. The company now understood the isolation that actress must have felt back then.

They couldn’t imagine what the market would look like when it opened the next day and their stock faced the inevitable fallout.

The tycoon’s wife, staring blankly at her phone, turned pale. The door burst open as the tycoon stormed in and slapped her. “Why did you have to keep pushing? Now look! We’ve been bitten back. We’re finished—finished!”

Meanwhile, the premiere’s live chat was flooded with apologies directed at the actress.

The director and producer exhaled in relief. They had feared all hell would break loose, but the tide shifted surprisingly quickly. The Top Flow Group’s handling of the narrative was masterful; the timing of their revelations during the premiere left no room for rebuttal, with each turn of events meticulously planned and executed.

It was clear that the selection of supporting actors had not been random.

Now, only a few acts remained…

Act three featured An Lushan using Lady Yang as an excuse to rebel, leading to Emperor Xuanzong’s tragic decision to have her killed.

Act four portrayed Wu Sangui’s betrayal, where he let the Qing forces into the empire, driven by his love for Chen Yuanyuan.

Act five…

Each act demonstrated a central truth:

There was never truly a “beauty that brought calamity.”

Throughout history, emperors and leaders surrounded themselves with countless beauties, many of whom wielded influence and favor, yet not all brought ruin. The idea that beauty was synonymous with disaster was a myth.

While the audience at the live show focused intently on the performances, netizens were busy devouring the drama online. They bounced between watching the premiere and researching gossip, switching platforms as trending topics overwhelmed servers.

Each actress’s appearance sparked a new wave of revelations online.

After the initial bombshell, subsequent actresses faced less hostility as netizens began to assume they, too, were victims of injustice.

Spurred on, users organized themselves to dig up old scandals, gather evidence, and refute false claims. Anonymous posts exposing hidden truths brought past “victims” and “innocents” to light for public scrutiny.

From renowned directors to the hottest actors, men and women alike who had once wielded power in the industry found themselves exposed. Not one of them could stand firm against the growing storm.

Those bold enough to challenge the wave were silenced by new exposés, and every collapse of credibility led to further revelations.

The smartest ones went into hiding, but in this chaos, everyone was tied together, and no one could escape.

The director and producer had long since turned off their phones, watching only the flow of comments. As long as the program wasn’t being criticized, they didn’t care.

But one thing still needed addressing—they needed to notify Pei Mingxuan.

After all, this was still their competition. Ji Fei couldn’t just sit out.

Using a few scenes for the other actresses was already pushing it.

Pei Mingxuan received the notice and turned to look at Ji Fei, who was engrossed in her phone, laughing as she scrolled.

“Sister-in-law, look!” Qin Rong, also nearby, was excitedly following the online frenzy, showing funny highlights to Ji Fei.

“Wow, did the Top Flow Group deliberately choose these actresses to clear their names? It’s almost like charity work.”

“It fits perfectly with the theme and does good at the same time, while also playing to Fei-jie’s strengths. Ha! I knew joining Fei-jie’s side was the right choice. Tonight’s battle has earned me plenty of karma!”

**[Suddenly, I think the ‘Entertainment Judge’ is pretty great. But this is really all thanks to Pei-jie, who managed to find so many wronged actresses, and with proof to boot. Impressive.]**

**[It’s a triple win—clearing their names, boosting the show, and paving the way for new talent in the studio.]**

**[When this plan was first proposed, Hao-ge was terrified, crying and begging Pei-jie not to go through with it, afraid it would alienate the entire industry. But Pei-jie is both skilled and brave. I bet it’s related to her promise to back Yu Rouyin. In the end, Qin Zhao gave the final nod. With results like this, Hao-ge can’t say a thing.]**

**[Best part? I get to skip several scenes! Fewer lines to memorize! Qin Zhao’s annoyed expression earlier said it all—he hates seeing others slack off while he’s working.]**

Ji Fei, now dressed in modern clothes, saw Pei Mingxuan approach. “It’s time. There are still five acts left.”

Ji Fei stood up to get ready. “By the way, how’s Yu Rouyin doing?”

Pei Mingxuan replied, “Originally, I thought these performances would boost her reputation and attract help, but improv is still too difficult. She probably won’t make it on stage. Still, with this setup, signing her later shouldn’t be an issue.”

Ji Fei nodded, not thinking too much of it, but as she left, she saw Yu Rouyin still desperately making calls.

Her face was full of defiance, refusing to give up.

Ji Fei paused, then glanced sheepishly at Pei Mingxuan.

Once on stage, the lights flashed.

Before she even spoke her first line—

A surprised cry escaped Ji Fei as she tripped and fell off the stage.