CHAPTER 199: CHAPTER 199: IT’S THE GODDESS WEN JIU!

Ever since experiencing the thrill of gaining followers during a live-stream, Sang Ning now has no fear of the words "blacklist" anymore.

If she can’t stay in the entertainment industry, she can just dive into live-streaming herself. After all, there are countless ways to show one’s face to the public, and being a celebrity isn’t the only path.

The little spat in the backstage waiting area had temporarily passed, and the host out front continued introducing the members of the mentor panel.

Next up were two professionally trained performance coaches from prestigious institutions: Yu Dandan and Ma Liheng.

The mentor panel only consisted of three members, and after they were introduced, the host moved on to introduce the scriptwriting team.

This show had brought in industry-renowned screenwriter Xu Qiqi to helm the team, along with six other outstanding professionals from the field.

It was clear that "Who’s the Acting Pro" had spent a fortune and was sincerely dedicated to producing a quality variety program.

Once the mentor and scriptwriting teams were introduced, the next stage was even more exciting—revealing the program’s Movie Critique judge.

"She’s a high-profile beauty—"

"She’s also an academic achiever—"

"She’s the youngest Grand Slam Best Actress in history—"

Onstage, Brother Hua barely finished listing these keywords before the audience in the front and the actors waiting backstage erupted in excitement.

"Holy shit! What’s going on? Brother Hua almost gave out my goddess Wen Jiu’s ID number in his intro!"

"Is it really Wen Jiu? No way! Hasn’t the goddess retired? So many shows tried to invite her but couldn’t lure her back."

"Feels like hype to me. If the production team actually got Wen Jiu on the show, I’ll live-stream myself eating crap!"

"Dude, no need to go that far..."

At that moment, the camera zoomed in for a close-up of the mentor panel.

All the mentors were tightly clasping their hands and widening their eyes, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the figure from backstage.

Qin Jiaxiang’s reaction stood out the most—he directly jumped to his feet, marched to the center of the stage, and loudly questioned Brother Hua: "Is it Wen Jiu? Is the person Wen Jiu? Hurry up and tell me!"

The successive questioning nearly left Brother Hua speechless—a borderline stage mishap. Brother Hua, looking awkward, politely urged Qin Jiaxiang to return to his seat.

"Director Qin, I understand your excitement about meeting the Movie Critique judge, but please curb your enthusiasm for now and leave the stage center to the judge."

Qin Jiaxiang didn’t budge—he even snatched the microphone right out of Brother Hua’s hands, turning the encounter into full-blown theater.

Brother Hua broke into a cold sweat, his face almost splitting from horror. He reached out to retrieve the microphone, only to see Qin Jiaxiang dodging him with a quick spin.

"Wen Jiu, is it you?"

"What’s the deal here? I beg you out of retirement to shoot a film, and you don’t show up. But when some lousy show asks you to be a guest, you just waltz in?"

"Do you even have me, this old man, in your sights?"

Microphone in hand, Qin Jiaxiang started stalking toward the backstage area, calling out bitterly as he went.

Brother Hua was sweating buckets, hastily catching up to grab Qin Jiaxiang, and then giving a quick eye signal to the mentor panel.

Yu Dandan and Ma Liheng, the two mentors, rushed to the stage and escorted Qin Jiaxiang away.

"Director Qin, we’re filming a show here—your reputation as a famous director still needs to be upheld."

"If you’re this fond of stealing microphones, you might as well host the show next time. Why bother being a mentor?"

Yu Dandan and Ma Liheng teased Qin Jiaxiang back and forth, each linking an arm around his, forcibly pulling him back to the mentor panel seats.

The backstage waiting area instantly burst into laughter.

"Looks like the show didn’t prep any scripts for the guests. Look at how Director Qin almost scared Brother Hua into an early grave."

"If anyone in the entertainment industry can handle Director Qin, it has to be Wen Jiu, the goddess."

"You’re missing one—besides Wen Jiu, there’s Sang Ning now. Don’t underestimate her; on this show she’s got Director Qin utterly wrapped around her finger."

Some of the competing actors glanced surreptitiously at Sang Ning.

One of them shot a disdainful look in her direction and remarked dismissively, "Sang Ning? Give me a break! Wen Jiu, the goddess, won over Director Qin with pure skill. What does Sang Ning have? Just a bit of brute strength, like some brawny ruffian!"

Sang Ning turned her gaze toward the source of the chatter, her sharp and cold expression immediately silencing the two speakers.

If you’re going to badmouth someone in public, can’t you at least lower your voice? What, you think people are deaf?

Sang Ning had no intention of arguing with them. When it came to acting, she had to admit she wasn’t good enough yet.

But just because she wasn’t skilled now didn’t mean she wouldn’t be in the future.

Before joining the show, Sang Ning’s sole wish had been to make it past the preliminary round.

But now, she had a new goal in mind—to advance smoothly to the finals.

Sang Ning held her breath and focused intently on the big screen, waiting eagerly for Wen Jiu’s appearance.

Although she had no direct connection with Wen Jiu, they represented two completely opposite ends of the spectrum in the entertainment industry.

Things were slightly better now, but before, Sang Ning had been everyone’s punching bag, while Wen Jiu had been universally praised.

To achieve zero negative reviews in the entertainment industry, Wen Jiu was undoubtedly a divine presence.

On the big screen, Brother Hua visibly became even more excited, his voice nearly breaking as he shouted—

"Let’s welcome the Movie Critique judge of ’Who’s the Acting Pro,’ Wen Jiu!"

The stage lights dimmed instantly, and both the audience and the backstage waiting room sank into brief silence.

It took a while for people’s minds to catch up, and then both the audience in the theater and the actors backstage erupted in unison, shaking the venue with deafening noise.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!"

"The goddess!!!!"

A cacophony of hysterical screaming arose and rippled outwards like a sonic earthquake, nearly lifting the broadcast hall right off its foundations.

Among the competing actors, some couldn’t suppress their emotions and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. One even went so far as to run to the big screen, fall dramatically to his knees, and gaze at it reverently as though worshipping holy relics.

"The goddess!!!! You’ve finally returned!!!!"

"Do you still remember your ’Little Dimples’?"

The ones kneeling and crying their hearts out were mostly grown men, leaving Sang Ning twitching the corner of her mouth.

Sometimes men can be even crazier fans than women!

Onstage, a spotlight lit up, and a woman with a gentle, radiant smile stepped into view.

Her hair was styled into an elegant bun, and she wore a fitted white cheongsam that accentuated her ethereal features.

Wen Jiu and Chu Xi were both delicate beauties, but Wen Jiu was clearly on another level—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call her the pinnacle of the delicate aesthetic.

Chu Xi’s softness had a hint of artifice to it, making it somewhat unrelatable.

Wen Jiu, however, was entirely different. Her gentleness radiated naturally from within, drawing people in effortlessly.

She maintained her radiant smile as she gently walked toward center stage, moving with grace so delicate it swayed like a willow branch in the wind. Each step she took, every subtle expression, seemed to melt hearts.

"Hello, host. Hello, mentors. Hello to all the audience members here. I’m Wen Jiu. Long time no see."

As soon as she reached center stage, Wen Jiu picked up the microphone and began to speak slowly.

Her voice was incredibly gentle, like a spring breeze carrying the faintest hint of floral fragrance—intoxicating from the very first note.