Mad Dog

Chapter 72: Always – #JiangTheFilmEmperorAndHisLittleWife#

In January, “Proud Princess” made its way into the Venice Film Festival candidates thanks to its selection in the Chinese region, receiving unprecedented high scores for a foreign film in the main competition. The judges highly praised the director’s control over the overall story’s pacing and the actors’ performances.

When Qu Heng heard that “Proud Princess” would be screened as the opening film at the festival, he rarely got drunk that night—his intoxication was filled with satisfaction and joy.

The first snowfall of winter finally arrived before the Lunar New Year’s Eve in early February, with snowflakes fluttering down and blanketing the city, covering the gentle night with a layer of shimmering white.

On the day of the first snowfall, Jiang Qi and Zhi Qi went to the civil affairs bureau to get their marriage certificate, officially becoming a pair of “young couples”—the legal kind.

The young girl had become part of the married group before graduating from university, momentarily dazed as she stared at the bright red marriage certificate.

“Jiang Qi, are we really married now?” Zhi Qi looked at the photo on the marriage certificate, where she and Jiang Qi were leaning together in white shirts, unable to help but smile. “It feels so unreal.”

Jiang Qi felt the same way.

Convincing Zhi Minglin and Mei Ran, marrying Zhi Qi… every aspect of this was “unbelievable” for Jiang Qi, almost like a dream.

It felt as if he had fallen into a boundless beautiful dream, surrounded by sweet cotton candy, soft and fluffy to the touch.

And when he woke up, the dream had come true.

Jiang Qi embraced her from behind, his cool voice carrying a rare softness filled with satisfaction: “Qi Qi, let’s go home.”

He could finally take her home properly, back to their home.

Last month, under Zhi Yu’s guidance, Jiang Qi made a down payment on a new apartment in the East District, which had just been developed.

It was a fully furnished place ready for them to move into, but considering the new furniture and the need to air it out for formaldehyde, Jiang Qi renewed the lease with the current landlord for another year.

So for now, they were still living in the place Shen Lei helped him rent.

Actually, everything was pretty much the same as before they got married; the only difference was that Jiang Qi had become clingier—if before he had been somewhat restrained, now that they had the “marriage certificate,” he had fully transformed into a big dog, wanting to stick to Zhi Qi every moment he wasn’t busy with filming.

During their free time, they made up for the many years of experiences they had never had, such as dating, shopping, and walking hand in hand…

Often, paparazzi would capture their matching figures on the streets; even blurred candid shots couldn’t hide their stunning looks and the intense love reflected in their eyes.

#Emperor Jiang and His Little Wife#.

Ever since Jiang Qi eagerly announced his marriage on Weibo after getting the certificate, this hashtag had trended countless times.

At one point, they were even rated by gossiping netizens as the “most ship-worthy CP,” with the top-tier male movie star paired with a fair-skinned and beautiful high-achieving girl; just imagining this combination was enough to get fans excited.

Especially after Jiang Qi’s reputation gradually improved thanks to Qu Heng’s article, a non-industry wife like Zhi Qi became the most ideal “sister-in-law” choice in fans’ eyes.

Beautiful and unpretentious, the photos taken of her showed her adorably sticking close to Jiang Qi, and following the timeline from Qu Heng’s article, they had known each other since childhood—a redemptive love.

It was truly irresistible.

Moreover, having a low-key girlfriend from outside the industry wouldn’t affect the resources available in the circle.

When Jiang Qi got married, he didn’t hide it from the company when signing his contract; he openly stated that he didn’t intend to conform to the fan-friendly idol persona. He had a girlfriend and planned to marry her, and he would make those things public.

Despite this, Chendin still signed him again.

There was no other choice; in the face of absolute hard power, the “persona” was too ephemeral. With Jiang Qi’s popularity, acting skills, and potential for future development, it would be foolish not to sign him.

Chendin was an experienced company with a mature operating model; they wouldn’t make foolish decisions.

And their predictions were correct. Jiang Qi’s resources didn’t diminish after his marriage; instead, after receiving high praise from directors for two films, the scripts offered to him increased.

Perhaps because Jiang Qi wasn’t the type of star who relied on fans for his income, he had always walked the black-and-red route, rebellious and indifferent to explanations, so how could he have garnered fans?

Therefore, whether he had a girlfriend, got married, or had children wouldn’t affect his “value assessment” in the industry.

Face, acting skills, talent, comprehension ability, and a hardworking spirit were what truly mattered to production teams.

However, Jiang Qi didn’t plan to take on too many roles for the time being.

Aside from a project, “Ruling the City,” scheduled to start filming in mid-August, he only accepted a few magazine activities, ensuring he didn’t overwork himself—he could be said to be lacking in “career ambition.”

Whenever his newly reinstated agent, Xiao Yongfei, asked why he didn’t take advantage of the momentum to choose more projects, Jiang Qi would honestly reply, “I’m afraid I can’t handle it.”

To be honest, he hadn’t undergone systematic training and relied entirely on instinct and talent for acting, so Jiang Qi could only immerse himself fully in one role at a time, studying the character’s psyche and exploring everything to perform well—there was no way he could handle multiple projects at once.

He understood this hard truth very well; take on what you can, or he feared he might inadvertently overwhelm himself.

“Fine.” Xiao Yongfei understood Jiang Qi’s temperament and didn’t push further. He simply sighed with regret while furiously scheduling a ton of “business activities” to fill the gaps.

As he flipped through the iPad to check the itinerary, he said, “Starting next month, the film festival nominations will begin. You’re nominated for four this time. I estimate that the Golden Tree won’t award you a second time, but you still need to show up for the sake of appearances, understood?”

Earlier, when registering for the film season, Qu Heng had already submitted “Proud Princess” for various film festivals, even though the final cut was ready, it hadn’t been publicly screened yet.

The results were naturally predictable; being nominated for the big three festivals and acting as the opening film for Venice, “Proud Princess” was virtually unbeatable in domestic film awards, covering all aspects—directing, production, lighting, script, and more… Everything that could be nominated was nominated, let alone the acting categories.

As the male lead of “Proud Princess,” Jiang Qi was naturally a strong contender for this year’s major awards, just like he was for last year’s “Looking to the Sky” where he played Mu Xi.

Shen Lei often lamented that if Jiang Qi hadn’t withdrawn from the industry, the remaining male leads for several upcoming award ceremonies wouldn’t have stood a chance… Every time he mentioned it, he would sigh in regret.

Though it might sound like bragging, since his debut, the boy had always been acting in films aiming for awards.

Finding a thousand-mile horse and a skilled rider isn’t easy, but Shen Lei and Jiang Qi were a perfect match; with Shen Lei’s unique insight, he had created an unprecedented “Purple Micro Star” in the entertainment industry, leaving behind the most remarkable work.

Listening to Xiao Yongfei confidently say that “Golden Tree probably won’t award you a second time,” Jiang Qi didn’t find this remark outrageous. It was almost as if he hadn’t won; it was merely a reflection of his thoughts, pondering if he would achieve something this year at other film awards.

“Is this even a question?” Xiao Yongfei couldn’t help but laugh. “You should be asking: how many do you think I can get?”

Based on the reviews from abroad and the industry buzz surrounding “Proud Princess,” Jiang Qi winning Best Actor and Qu Heng winning Best Director were nearly guaranteed.

The only “unknown” was how many awards he would receive.

Jiang Qi thought for a moment and then asked, “Do I still need a female companion to walk the red carpet with me?”

He remembered that last year, Xiao Yongfei had persistently mentioned this request, but he had turned it down.

Xiao Yongfei was momentarily taken aback, his eyes lighting up. “What? Are you willing to walk with someone?”

If Jiang Qi, who had a “clean-freak” attitude about relationships, could accept walking the red carpet with a female star, it would be a major boost in popularity!

“Yeah.” Jiang Qi nodded, saying earnestly, “I want to bring my wife.”

Last year, he had promised Zhi Qi he would take her to the film festival so she could watch him receive his award, but unfortunately, the little girl had a school obligation that disrupted those plans. Now that he had another opportunity, he naturally wanted to make up for that regret.

……

Xiao Yongfei was speechless for a moment, realizing he had known all along.

However, Jiang Qi’s mysterious and beautiful wife making her public debut would undoubtedly generate significant attention.

So he nodded, “Of course, I’ll arrange the outfit.”

As for the countless brands wanting to sponsor Jiang Qi and his mysterious wife, they were beyond measure.

“Ruling the City” was tentatively scheduled to start shooting in mid-August, and for now, Jiang Qi’s work mostly involved magazine shoots and advertisements, along

with attending some commercial events, not too busy. He often returned home early.

Zhi Qi had fallen behind on her classes due to the car accident and had been catching up lately, usually returning home later than Jiang Qi.

As long as Zhi Qi got home after him, Jiang Qi could assume the role of a “house husband,” preparing dinner and waiting for her return.

The girl had once laughed, saying that compared to Jiang Qi being such a perfect husband, she felt like a bit of a waste for not being able to even make instant noodles properly; maybe she should learn to cook for him once.

Jiang Qi just shook his head at that.

He didn’t need Zhi Qi to cook for him; he only wanted to spoil her and let her live a life free from mundane concerns.

During dinner that night, Jiang Qi brought up the film festival he had discussed with Xiao Yongfei earlier.

“Ah? I’m walking the red carpet with you?” Zhi Qi looked surprised, but after a moment of thought, she smiled and nodded. “Sure, I’ll accompany you; I’ll definitely have time off this time.”

Realizing Jiang Qi’s intention, she knew he wanted to make up for last year, when she hadn’t been there to see him win his trophy.

Since she understood, she would definitely fulfill his request.

The trophy Jiang Qi had won last year still sat in the “treasure box” under her bed.

It was a unique gift from the boy.

And Zhi Qi believed…

Jiang Qi would give her another trophy this year.

There were three major awards in domestic cinema: the Golden Tree, the Bai Ling, and the Sheng Yu.

These were the three most authoritative awards in the domestic film industry; there were many other small awards, but they didn’t compare to the third one.

Last year, Jiang Qi had been nominated for both the Golden Tree and the Sheng Yu for his role as Mu Xi in “Looking to the Sky,” but the Bai Ling, as a municipal award in Beicheng, had likely overlooked Jiang Qi due to those unresolved “black marks,” denying him even a nomination.

However, this year, with his role as Chen Si, he had swept all three nominations.

The Golden Tree awards ceremony coincidentally fell on the hottest day of summer, sweltering and devoid of coolness even by night, the enormous venue bustling with thousands of attendees, resembling a large steamer.

In this kind of sweltering heat, only stars with striking looks could walk the red carpet without looking greasy, able to withstand the scrutiny of high-definition cameras from all angles.

Compared to male stars mostly in suits, female stars could wear more revealing dresses and gowns, which might seem better, but in reality, they were often covered in sticky materials, making it even more uncomfortable in the heat.

Zhi Qi wore such a gown once, and she truly felt the difficulty of being a female star.

She wore an ES spring/summer haute couture fairy dress, the color resembling chestnut flour, with a long skirt trailing on the ground, shimmering as she walked. The young girl exposed her long swan-like neck and delicate shoulder blades, her slim waist appearing even more slender, making her seem ethereal.

The stylist hadn’t gone out of their way to style her long, waist-length hair; instead, they simply adorned her fluffy hair with a few feathers that matched her gown, giving her an even more lively appearance like a golden canary.

Her face, lightly made up, was pure yet alluring, reminiscent of a breathtaking beauty.

“Your skin is so good.” The stylist couldn’t help but marvel while doing Zhi Qi’s makeup. “Some people really should wear less makeup. Your skin looks so tender it seems like it could be pinched to yield water. I’ve done makeup for so many female stars, none of them are as fair and delicate as you…”

Zhi Qi smiled gently, not commenting further—after all, she hadn’t seen many other female stars.

“嫂子, you’re really beautiful. I’m not lying.” The stylist, seeing her sweet demeanor and not responding, teased with a smile, “With your looks in the entertainment industry, you’re quite rare. If you could enter the industry, you’d definitely be marketed as the ‘national first love’ face. Imagine teaming up with Qi Ge, it’d be a power couple!”

Chendin’s staff referred to Jiang Qi as Qi Ge, which naturally led them to call Zhi Qi “sister-in-law.”

The stylist was just joking, but Zhi Qi hadn’t even considered the possibility, quickly shaking her head and waving her small hands, “I can’t do that.”

She had been clear about her goals since childhood—steadily pursuing them—and even Jiang Qi was not unexpected; she had already planned her future life and career—entering the entertainment industry was never on the table.

Seeing her reaction, the stylist couldn’t help but chuckle, her eyes crescenting as she looked at Zhi Qi. “Sister-in-law, you’re so adorable.”

Zhi Qi was teased, her fair cheeks flushing with a hint of pink.

When Jiang Qi finished changing and came to find Zhi Qi, he saw the girl in her fairy dress, her slender shoulder blades resembling fresh snow, almost glowing softly.

She was a sight to behold, and Jiang Qi’s gaze darkened slightly.

However, after getting married, he seemed to have mellowed in this regard.

Jiang Qi restrained his gaze, walking over to embrace the girl’s waist, his voice low, “Let’s go.”

Though he didn’t make any unnecessary movements, every touch was gentle, as if the girl in his arms was a precious treasure.

In front of the public, Jiang Qi’s usual demeanor was rebellious and indifferent, but this was the first time the stylist had seen him so “gentle.” While surprised, she realized that the rumors about him truly weren’t unfounded.

Everyone said Jiang Qi doted on his wife excessively, and seeing it firsthand today made her realize it was true.

This wasn’t some “constructed persona” or marketing gimmick; he genuinely cherished the girl, trying to restrain himself in front of others, but the stark contrast was easily noticeable.

The stylist silently watched the couple leave, looking at their equally slim and straight backs, and the phrase “a match made in heaven” flickered through her mind.