`Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Ye Peiqian’s husband’s surname was Min. Very few people knew his full name, but everyone respectfully called him “President Min.”

President Min was a man of dignity. Even if there were already signs of betrayal above his head, he did not publicly act like a madman and curse. He simply stood behind the monitor with a commanding presence, his eyes wide like copper bells, scanning every male actor who had scenes with Ye Peiqian with the sharpness of a hawk.

“This one won’t do, too old…” President Min touched his shiny bald head, critiquing in a low voice as if assessing merchandise. “That one’s almost okay, but the appearance is too plain, taking him out would lose face.”

A few young, fair-skinned, good-looking “puppy boys” laughed and walked by. President Min’s sharp little eyes immediately narrowed. After scrutinizing them for a moment, he shook his head in disdain: “These immature kids, no experience, unreliable. Peiqian would definitely look down on them.”

His gaze swept across the set like radar, finally locking onto Liang Yicheng.

Honestly, Liang Yicheng’s appearance was gentle, his temperament elegant. Among the ordinary males, he truly stood out.

President Min crossed his arms and let out a short, cold snort through his nose. The voice was quiet, yet it felt like a block of ice hitting the ground, chilling the surrounding air.

“Being a star is way too fortunate!”

Xiang Tingyan followed closely behind Shi Yin, carrying a tray and shoving small cakes into her mouth without any semblance of grace. “Free afternoon tea every day! Wow, this is Black Swan cake, ridiculously expensive!”

“Not every day,” Shi Yin calmly corrected her.

“What?” Xiang Tingyan jumped in surprise, hurriedly grabbing a cream puff. “No tea tomorrow? Then I have to make up for it today!”

“Don’t worry,” Shi Yin’s gaze swept over the not-so-friendly President Min nearby, then followed his deadly line of sight to Liang Yicheng, whose back for some reason looked a little stiff. A sly curve appeared at the corner of her lips. “Your afternoon tea… should be safe this week.”

“Woohoo, that’s awesome!” Xiang Tingyan shouted in happiness, drawing several staffers’ attention.

Shi Yin raised her hand to cover half her face and tugged her sleeve. “…Keep your voice down.”

Probably because President Min’s intimidation was too strong, Shi Yin’s next few days of filming went surprisingly smoothly. Liang Yicheng behaved like a completely different person—every minor off-screen movement and subtle touch had disappeared.

That “great Buddha” simply sat there, saying nothing, yet commanding the entire set.

During lunch break that day, Shi Yin carried a cup of coffee, lightly stepping over to Liang Yicheng, feigning concern. “Teacher Liang, don’t you want a cup of coffee to wake up? I can get one for you. I heard President Min prepared over ten flavors today. It would be a shame not to try them.”

Her tone carried a teasing undertone because she was in such a good mood.

Liang Yicheng’s mouth twitched, and his face instantly darkened like thick clouds covering the sky. He gritted his back teeth and stiffly refused, “No need!”

Then, seemingly to regain authority and with a hint of annoyance, he sharply ordered, “Finish quickly, don’t delay the afternoon scenes!”

“All right, Teacher Liang~”

Shi Yin responded smoothly, her voice sweet enough to feel like sugar threads melting. She even nodded obediently, her eyes forming two crescent moons.

As she turned to leave, the smile in Shi Yin’s eyes could no longer be restrained. Her peach-blossom-shaped eyes shimmered with radiance, sparkling vividly.

Liang Yicheng stared at her back, his face ashen, wanting to say something. But when he looked up, he saw the watchful eyes of President Min, and could only swallow his frustration with great effort.

~

“Outside abandoned dock warehouse, night”

“Miss, we’ve arrived.”

In the backseat of the business car, Chen Xiang slowly opened her eyes from her half-sleep.

Her posture, one hand supporting her chin, remained unchanged. The neon lights outside the window cast dim and unclear shadows on her face. Compared to three years ago, Chen Xiang’s eyebrows and eyes were sharper, like a dagger drawn from its sheath. Her long black hair was loosely tied at the back of her head, a few strands falling along her neck, adding a sense of laziness and danger. The once-clear black eyes now carried ice shards that would not melt, her gaze chilling to the bone.

The air inside the car was stagnant. Chen Xiang suddenly spoke, her voice like water steeped in a cold pool.

“Yan Lang,” she addressed the young man in the driver’s seat, “how long have you been following my father?”

Yan Lang’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on the steering wheel for a moment before quickly returning to calm. “Almost three years.”

“Three years,” Chen Xiang’s gaze lightly passed over the rearview mirror inside the car, briefly meeting the clear and determined eyes reflected in it. “Yet all you do is drive for me. Are you content with that?”

“Miss, I don’t have grand ambitions.” Yan Lang’s voice was steady, showing no sign of deception. “My younger siblings need schooling. Mr. Chen is generous and pays well. I am satisfied with my current life.”

Chen Xiang looked at him deeply, the corner of her lips moving slightly, barely noticeable. “Being satisfied is enough.”

The car door opened from the outside. A long, straight leg stepped out first. Then, the rest of her figure emerged—silk shirt and tailored suit pants outlining Chen Xiang’s slender yet upright body. A black coat casually draped over her shoulders, the hem fluttering in the night wind, adding a sharp, commanding curve. Behind her, a dozen black-clad bodyguards silently clustered like ghosts, moving swiftly. The crisp sound of high heels striking the ground was chillingly clear.

“The new arrival has come.” A bodyguard handed over a heavy object without expression.

“I’ll check it.”

Chen Xiang took the black handgun with a calm expression. The moment her fingers gripped the handle, an innate sense of familiarity surged within her. Her fingertips moved with blinding speed, leaving afterimages—removing the magazine, pulling back the slide, disassembling the sleeve, taking out the recoil spring… every motion precise and rapid, like a cold, calculated dance. In the blink of an eye, the complete gun lay in neat parts on the table. Chen Xiang lowered her gaze, her eyes scanning each component like the most sophisticated instrument. After careful inspection, she reassembled it with the same swift, efficient movements.

A soft “click” sounded as the pieces fit perfectly.

With a flick of her wrist, Chen Xiang silently tucked the gun inside her clothing, as if it had been part of her body all along.

At that moment, she already bore the shadow of Chen Shouzhuo, perhaps even surpassing him.

A new star of sin rose, carrying an unstoppable cold light, majestic and unyielding.

Yan Lang sat alone in the car, engine still running, quietly watching the black figure disappear into the crowd, his eyes deep as the ocean.

“Cut! Passed! Return to the car to secure one.” Behind the monitor, Gu Jizhou raised his eyelids to look at Shi Yin and, rarely, offered praise. “State captured very accurately. Improving lately.”

Shi Yin smiled brightly. “Mm, I got the feel for it.”

In the drama, “Chen Shouzhuo” was besieged by the forces of justice, forced to cede power to “Chen Xiang,” leading to the clumsy “fake death escape” scene; off-screen, Liang Yicheng, like a clay idol crossing a river, lived as a frightened bird under President Min’s intimidation, with none of his former composed charm.

Recently, Shi Yin would wake up laughing. Naturally, her state had reached new heights; it was impossible not to feel good.

~

By the time filming ended that night, it was already late. Xiang Tingyan complained about being hungry, and Shi Yin felt a bit empty as well, so they decided to get some late-night food together.

They found a barbecue stall near the film city. Shi Yin only ordered a few skewers of toasted bread and vegetables, plus two beef skewers, afraid that overeating would make her face puffy on camera the next day.

Xiang Tingyan, however, had no such worries. She ordered a bunch of skewers and generously added a bottle of chilled beer, ready to feast.

Among the dim lights and curling smoke, Shi Yin nibbled on her toast, her gaze casually sweeping across the busy staff.

Suddenly, her eyes froze.

[Tian Xiufang]

A familiar name moved deftly between the tables and chairs, carrying plates of food and jotting notes in a small notebook.

Shi Yin stared at the figure for a long while, until Xiang Tingyan had finished her meal and put down the bamboo skewer.

“Sister Yan,” Shi Yin grabbed a tissue to wipe her mouth, “you go back to the hotel first. I have some things to handle.”

Xiang Tingyan, confused, asked, “Huh? You’re not coming back? I don’t want to walk alone at night.”

Shi Yin’s tone was gentle yet firm: “I have some things to handle.”

Xiang Tingyan pouted: “Okay, okay… then I’ll just wait here for you, alright?”

Shi Yin sighed inwardly. Communicating with Xiang Tingyan often felt like talking to a high-level AI; her logic seemed always on a different frequency. “I mean,” Shi Yin slowed her speech, enunciating clearly as if giving a command, “I want to handle some things alone, by myself. Can you go back first?”

Xiang Tingyan reluctantly nodded: “Oh… okay. Come back early, stay safe.”

After sending Xiang Tingyan away, Shi Yin walked directly toward the server wiping the tables, who had her back to her.

“Tian Tian.” she called softly.

Tian Tian turned around, her face showing just the right amount of surprise. “Shi Yin? What a coincidence! What are you doing here?”

Shi Yin mercilessly exposed her: “You’ve already seen me. Why didn’t you say hi?”

Tian Tian’s “surprise” immediately collapsed, a flicker of panic crossing her face at being caught, quickly replaced by two stiff laughs. “Ahahaha… you’re too sharp-eyed, you noticed everything!”

“Off work?” Shi Yin invited directly. “Chat a bit?”

“Ten more minutes,” Tian Tian glanced at the greasy, old clock on the wall.

“All right,” Shi Yin nodded naturally. “I’ll wait for you.”

After leaving Feng Yang and exiting all work chat groups, Tian Tian had once sent her a cautious WeChat:

“Yinyin, you… terminated the contract?”

She replied briefly: “Mm, handling things on my own from now on.”

Tian Tian quickly responded: “That’s great! Congratulations! (throwing flowers.jpg)”

After that, the two of them didn’t contact each other again.

Ten minutes later, Tian Tian took off her oil-stained apron and sat opposite Shi Yin, pouring her a cup of sour plum juice. “Today’s employee perk, please drink.”

“Every time I see you, you’re trying out a new job,” Shi Yin took the cup, teasing in a familiar tone.

Tian Tian shrugged, forcing a light laugh, though her eyes drifted slightly. “Unfortunately, this time it’s not about experiencing life. I’m actually working for money, and… running some background roles.” She paused, lowering her voice. “Feng Yang is finished. The top actress left, and many others followed. Even my manager jumped ship. The company’s full of scandals now; terminations are everywhere, it’s almost ready to announce closure.”

Shi Yin’s hand holding the cup paused slightly. “…I see.”

She had been busy with her new drama and indeed hadn’t paid attention to the aftermath at Yang Tianming and Feng Yang’s place.

Tian Tian looked at her, her eyes brightening, her tone genuinely admiring: “By the way, I followed ‘Saints in the Fog’! You acted so well. Back then it was just Da Yan overshadowing you. After leaving her, you really soared.”

“It’s not really ‘soaring,’” Shi Yin, embarrassed by the praise, held two fingers apart to indicate a tiny gap. “Just… slightly, raised a little bit in rank.”

After that joke, silence fell between them. A faint awkwardness lingered in the air, whether because of the unspoken WeChat message they both knew about but never mentioned, or because of the completely different paths their lives had taken, quietly drawing a boundary of unfamiliarity.

Shi Yin lowered her eyes and finished the sour plum juice in one go. The cold liquid slid down sweet and sour, but it couldn’t suppress the emotions surging inside her. She stood: “I’ll—”

“I saw that WeChat message.”

Tian Tian suddenly spoke, staring at the now whitened tip of her washed shoes. “Too bad I saw it a little late… it was after I came out of Liu Cong’s room.”

Shi Yin’s heart skipped a beat. “You—”

“I left with Liu Cong that day,” Tian Tian raised her head, her expression calm as if a heavy burden had been lifted. “You’re smart, you probably guessed it, right?”

“I don’t even know if I should feel lucky or unlucky…” Shi Yin tugged at her mouth corner, revealing a smile uglier than crying. “I barely convinced myself to accept the unspoken rules, and the moment I walked in, I regretted it. My phone was taken away, and when Liu Cong started undressing, my whole body was trembling… for a moment, I really thought about running out no matter what, even if it meant never doing this job again.”

Shi Yin pressed her lips tightly, not interrupting, just silently listening.

Tian Tian smiled, a trace of fear and a hint of relief in it: “But I didn’t even move. Liu Cong got a call, I think it was from Xu Wei, and he left in a hurry. I was alone in the room, my legs weak, sitting on the floor for a long time before I could recover.”

“Later, I realized all that was left were relief and regret. Relief that I didn’t cross that line, and regret that I even thought about it.”

Her eyes met Shi Yin’s again, clear and honest like never before. “Actually… I was jealous of you. When you terminated your contract—no, maybe earlier, when we first met in Yunxi—I was thinking, why can’t I be like you, pretty, and able to act so well?”

Shi Yin unconsciously clenched the empty plastic cup in her hand, making a faint noise.

“But later I understood,” Tian Tian’s tone became calm. “Because I’m just an ordinary person, why force myself to compare with a ‘monster’ like you? You know, when you’re on set acting, your eyes don’t even blink, there’s a light inside them. That kind of light, I can’t learn, and I can’t fake it.”

Shi Yin opened her mouth to speak but felt her throat blocked, a single “I” hovering at her lips. “I—I actually—”

“Ah, the most frustrating thing in this world is when someone more talented than you works harder than you, it’s simply unfair…” Tian Tian rested her chin on her hand, smirking at Shi Yin. This time, her smile had no shadow, only friendly teasing.

“I don’t have talent, and I don’t truly love acting. I just took this career as my livelihood. These past two years, I’ve been muddling along, and it became a habit. Honestly, my goal as an actor is simple: earn money, go back home, buy a small house, live comfortably and retire. I don’t have that obsession to become famous.”

“When this month ends, my apartment lease ends too,” Tian Tian shrugged, a self-deprecating humor in her tone. “I’ll probably go back home, find a regular job, get used to earning three to five thousand a month. Haha, to be honest, even now, running background roles, I don’t even make three to five thousand, sometimes starving, sometimes full.”

“So I’m not jealous of you at all,” Tian Tian exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing. “Wow, saying this feels so good! No wonder I didn’t dare message you before, always felt awkward…”

Tian Tian rubbed her nose, her eyes carrying a faint, hard-to-notice nervousness, like a child seeking forgiveness after a mistake. Softly, she asked: “So… I couldn’t hold it in and spilled everything. We… still friends, right?”

Shi Yin’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Without hesitation, she replied firmly: “Of course.”

“All right, all right!” Tian Tian finally relaxed, her face lighting up with a radiant smile, and she began urging Shi Yin as before: “Go back! You’re filming a new drama, right? Don’t stay up late, or you’ll look bad on camera tomorrow! Let’s go, come on, hurry!”

Shi Yin obediently stood. Tian Tian also got up, looking at her seriously: “Thank you for messaging me back then, telling me how awful Liu Cong is.” She clenched her fist, making a cheering gesture toward the air, her eyes sparkling. “You will get more and more famous! Famous to the extreme!”

Shi Yin felt a softness in her heart and returned the same determined smile. “Definitely.”

That night back at the hotel, Xiang Tingyan was sitting cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with a delicate mooncake gift box—finding angles to take photos for social media and using apps to check prices. When she saw the results, she couldn’t help exclaiming: “Wow! So expensive? Over three hundred for a box of mooncakes?! Robbery!”

Shi Yin paused. “Where did the mooncakes come from?”

“Ye Peiqian’s assistant sent them.” Xiang Tingyan didn’t lift her head, speaking casually.

Shi Yin frowned. “For no reason? Why would she send mooncakes to you?”

“Isn’t it almost Mid-Autumn Festival? Giving gifts is normal!” Xiang Tingyan blinked, her face saying plainly: “What’s there to ask?”

Shi Yin walked over, picked up the tin stamped “Meixin Lava Custard Mooncakes,” and examined it carefully, her voice cold. “Did she send this only to you, or did others get it too?”

Xiang Tingyan stared blankly. “Huh? I… didn’t ask. Probably… everyone got some?”

Seeing her dazed expression, Shi Yin continued to probe: “You didn’t think about why she sent the mooncakes and just accepted them without a second thought?”

Xiang Tingyan shook her head blankly.

“What did you two talk about?” Shi Yin asked in another way.

“How do you know we talked…” Xiang Tingyan mumbled quietly, trying to recall. “It wasn’t anything special, just asked where I usually live, which company I signed with, who my current manager is…”

Shi Yin’s expression darkened. She put down the gift box and stood in front of Xiang Tingyan, looking at her seriously: “Sister Yan, you are my assistant; you should be on the same page with me. Some things, before you speak them, you must think twice, and then think twice again. You cannot casually reveal my whereabouts or private matters to outsiders, because you never know how much trouble a casual word from you might bring, both to me and to yourself in the future.”

Sensing the coldness in Shi Yin’s tone, Xiang Tingyan panicked slightly, quickly grabbing her hand and shaking it, pleading coquettishly: “Alright, alright, I know I was wrong, I’ll pay attention next time!”

Shi Yin didn’t speak, just lowered her eyes and looked at her. The coldness in her gaze didn’t dissipate despite Xiang Tingyan’s admission of fault.

Xiang Tingyan fiddled with her phone for a long while, watching the chain of likes and envious comments on her social media, her vanity fully satisfied. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, as if discovering a new continent, and she exclaimed excitedly: “Yinyin! What do you think… I try acting too?”

Shi Yin: “?”

Xiang Tingyan felt even more confident about the idea, her eyes shining with longing: “I think I could act in those dramas you do! Then we could act together, go to work together, how great would that be!”

Those who have never waded through the deep waters of the entertainment industry always harbor unrealistic, idealized notions.

Shi Yin looked at her eager eyes and almost spoke, but in the end swallowed the words.

Forget it, let go of the compulsion to help, respect the destiny of others.

The next early morning, after finishing filming, Shi Yin returned home. She didn’t even have time to remove her makeup before the first thing she did was grab her phone and call Wen Jinhe, without any hesitation: “Sister Wen, regarding Xiang Tingyan, have her go back.”

“What, doesn’t suit you?” Wen Jinhe sighed. She couldn’t directly assign people from Hengxing, so she could only choose from the interns. But these interns were one less competent than the next.

“Mm,” Shi Yin rubbed her forehead, too lazy to recount all the troublesome moments, speaking concisely: “She works diligently, but she’s not clever, and her sense of discretion is poor.”

Fortunately, Shi Yin had always been cautious, avoiding Xiang Tingyan whenever possible, even making calls mostly from home. That’s why, after a few days, Xiang Tingyan’s habits and details were all clear to Shi Yin, while she knew nothing about Shi Yin.

“Understood,” Wen Jinhe was always straightforward. “I’ll recruit someone new for you; you can choose yourself. But I should remind you, you have to pay the assistant’s salary yourself. That’s the industry norm.”

“You should understand, I can’t openly use Hengxing’s resources for your personal matters; many eyes are watching,” Wen Jinhe reminded.

“I understand, Sister Wen,” Shi Yin replied, indicating her comprehension. Their cooperation was always under the radar; Wen Jinhe was still employed at Hengxing, so precautions had to be taken.

Wen Jinhe nodded in satisfaction, returning to her usual strong and shrewd tone: “Here’s the plan: I’ll post a recruitment under the studio’s name. As for the salary… since you’re just starting out, if funds are tight, I can subsidize. If you want to hire someone capable and reliable, the offer can’t be too low. A budget of three to five thousand won’t make someone do work worth thirty to fifty thousand.”

Shi Yin was about to agree, but then an image flashed through her mind like lightning, a clear figure instantly appearing.

She immediately corrected herself: “Wait, Sister Wen! No need to rush recruiting. I might… already have a suitable candidate.”