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Yu Chi’s brows furrowed slightly, his eyes filled with complex emotions that carried a hint of indifference and shadow. It was as though he had already accepted his fate—if Yuan Yuan were to drag him out to silence him, he wouldn’t protest or plead. There was a sense of calm resignation, as if he’d given up on resisting.
At the same time, Sheng Li felt that Yu Chi’s gaze exuded arrogance and defiance. Her words seemed to have no effect on him at all.
This irritated her immensely.
She had never met such an annoying brat.
“Li Li, I’m willing to do anything for you! But in this lawful society, murder is illegal,” Yuan Yuan stammered nervously, craning her neck to look up at Yu Chi, who towered over her. “Besides, I don’t have the guts.”
Sheng Li let out a cold snort and turned to walk inside. “Close the door. Do you want everyone to come and gawk?”
“What about that little bas—” Yuan Yuan caught herself mid-sentence and coughed. “Uh, what should we do with Yu Chi?”
After quickly putting on her mask and cap, Sheng Li turned her back to the door. “Let him in.”
A minute later.
Sheng Li sat in a chair, summoning the haughty demeanor of a spoiled princess from one of her roles. She coolly looked at Yu Chi standing before her. “You said you wanted to talk to me about compensation for lost wages and medical expenses. Do you even know how much I earn in a day?”
Yuan Yuan stood beside her like a timid maid, adding softly, “It’ll take at least a week for her to recover.”
Though it was past six in the evening, the summer sky was still bright. Yu Chi stood casually, his figure silhouetted against the backlight. His fingers lightly tugged at the strap of his backpack. He had rushed over in a hurry, and sweat dampened the hair at his forehead, causing a few strands to cling to his skin. The side of his face shimmered faintly with perspiration.
He lowered his gaze at her, the dark emotions in his eyes now subdued. “I don’t know.”
Sheng Li glanced at Yuan Yuan.
Receiving her cue, Yuan Yuan immediately quoted an approximate compensation amount.
Yu Chi pressed his lips together and fell silent.
Sheng Li raised an eyebrow. This look of being overwhelmed by financial pressure made him appear surprisingly docile.
She recalled their family restaurant—it wasn’t large, and business probably wasn’t great either. This catering order for the production team was likely the most profitable gig they’d had all year. If they were to calculate proper compensation, selling the entire restaurant wouldn’t be enough.
In her mind, as long as this little bastard sincerely apologized and acted humble, she wouldn’t make things too difficult for a high school student.
The next moment.
Yu Chi let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “So my life must be worth quite a bit.”
Sheng Li: “….”
Humble? Hardly. This rebellious little wolf pup was insufferable!
She narrowed her eyes, suddenly remembering something. “Are you even an adult?”
Yu Chi: “Does my age matter when it comes to compensation?”
“Of course it does. If you’re not an adult, I won’t bully you. Your parents can negotiate with us.” She glanced at the time and extended her hand toward him. “Didn’t you just come from the exam hall? Let me see your ID.”
Yu Chi didn’t move, clearly unwilling to comply.
Sheng Li crossed her arms and scrutinized him. “You say you’re Yu Chi, but I’ve never seen you before. How do I know you’re not lying?”
Without any change in expression, Yu Chi pulled out an English exam admission ticket from the side pocket of his backpack and handed it over.
Sheng Li took it and glanced at it. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the one-inch photo on the admission ticket. In the picture, Yu Chi’s hair was shorter than it was now, and his eyes carried a certain aloofness and untamed edge. He resembled a young wolf restrained by invisible chains—limited in attack power but far from obedient.
Even though her impression of Yu Chi was terrible, and despite being surrounded by handsome men and beautiful women in the entertainment industry, she couldn’t deny that this little bastard was undeniably good-looking. A guy like this would surely wreak havoc among the girls at school.
Click. She wondered how well he’d performed on the college entrance exam.
“Staring at it for so long—are you trying to determine if the photo is fake?”
“….”
Sheng Li raised her eyes to meet his and said indifferently, “No, but I also can’t tell if you’re 18. Give me your ID.”
With visible irritation, Yu Chi glared at her. His prominent Adam’s apple moved as he exhaled deeply. After a brief pause, he reluctantly unslung his backpack, rummaged through it, and handed over his ID card to this unreasonable, stubborn actress.
Sheng Li glanced at it and confirmed—indeed, he wasn’t yet an adult. His birthday was June 29th.
“Not quite 18, but close enough,” Yu Chi muttered. He didn’t understand why she was so fixated on his age. “There’s no need to involve them. They wouldn’t be able to afford this kind of compensation anyway.”
Even if they could afford it, they wouldn’t pay a single cent.
In fact, they might even hope the compensation amount was higher—to pressure him into submission.
Sheng Li found this strange and countered, “So you think you can pay?”
“I—” Yu Chi paused, lowering his eyes. Once again, he appeared somewhat docile. Softly, he said, “I’ll write an IOU. Interest can be included. I’ll repay it eventually. If you’re not reassured, we can have it notarized by a lawyer.”
For some inexplicable reason, Sheng Li felt a pang of guilt. At this moment, she truly felt like a bully.
“If you agree, then I’ll leave now.” It was as if he had prepared everything in advance. He placed a piece of paper on the table. “This is my number. You can contact me anytime.”
He took a step forward and reached out to take back his ID card.
But Sheng Li suddenly grabbed it and refused to let go.
The small ID card was held firmly by both of them, each gripping one side.
Yu Chi’s fingers brushed against Sheng Li’s. His fingers were warm, while hers were icy from sitting in the air-conditioned room for so long.
Sheng Li looked closely at Yu Chi’s face, locking eyes with his deep, dark pupils. He probably hadn’t expected her to hold on so tightly, and for a moment, he froze—but he didn’t pull away either.
After three seconds of stalemate, Sheng Li quickly withdrew her hand. “I’ll keep your ID for now. I’m returning to the set the day after tomorrow. You can come with your parents anytime to find me.”
“Suit yourself.” Yu Chi straightened up, glanced at her face, and murmured softly, “Sorry.”
________________________________________
Thanks to Yu Chi’s interruption, it was nearly seven o’clock by the time Sheng Li finally had dinner. The meal was utterly tasteless, and since it was so late, she only ate a few bites before setting down her chopsticks.
Yuan Yuan noticed how little she had eaten and assumed she was worried about gaining weight. “You haven’t been resting well these past two days and have already lost weight. Eating a bit more won’t hurt.”
“I don’t feel like eating.” Sheng Li glanced at the ID card lying on the table and frowned, lightly touching her face with her fingertips. “Yuan Yuan, am I really that ugly right now? Is that why that little bastard was so arrogant?”
It wasn’t surprising that she doubted herself. Among the current crop of popular actresses, Sheng Li had a significant number of male fans, particularly those aged around 20. The crazier ones would shout “I love you!” in public, while the shyer ones would blush and get flustered. Even ordinary passersby wouldn’t remain so composed upon seeing a famous actress.
The younger male stars in the industry always greeted her politely, calling her “Sister Sheng Li” or “Sister Li.”
Yu Chi clearly wasn’t one of her fans—not even an ordinary passerby. He was far from polite or gentle.
“Maybe he doesn’t chase celebrities?” Yuan Yuan suggested.
No assistant of a female star could afford to be too thin, especially since they often polished off whatever their celebrity clients left behind. Yuan Yuan’s plump figure was a testament to that. She swallowed the food in her mouth, blinked, and added, “Or maybe… he has a girlfriend.”
Sheng Li, holding her water glass, thought for a moment. “His relationship with his parents is probably strained. With someone so young and rebellious, early romance is pretty common.”
She thought back to her own 18th year. Back then, Rong Hua, along with her parents, had kept her under strict control—filming, preparing for auditions, and studying for the college entrance exam. The minimum passing scores for both the art exams and the regular exams were second place nationwide.
Early romance had been a luxury she couldn’t afford. She had missed that train.
Sheng Li set down her water glass with a loud clap . “If that crazy woman Rong Hua tries to stop me from dating again, I’m terminating my contract.”
Yuan Yuan: “!!!”
Her chopsticks nearly dropped in shock.
At nine o’clock in the evening, Sheng Li was sitting on her bed memorizing lines from her script. Yuan Yuan quietly reported from the side: “There’s a heavy rainstorm in Shanghai. Sister Rong’s flight has been delayed. She’s rescheduled for tomorrow morning and will arrive in the afternoon.”
Without looking up, Sheng Li grunted in acknowledgment.
Her phone rang again. Yuan Yuan held it up to her face. The screen displayed a voice call request from “Empress Zhou.”
Thankfully, this time she hadn’t gone so far as to request a video call.
As soon as Sheng Li tapped to answer, the voice on the other end shouted, “I’m downstairs at the hospital. Have Yuan Yuan come down to pick me up.”
Sheng Li: “….”
What auspicious day was this? Was there a special promotion for visiting patients today—one visit, two free extras?
________________________________________
Once again, Sheng Li put on her mask and cap, glaring coldly at Zhou Sinan, who had just finished filming an advertisement and looked dazzlingly radiant.
Zhou Sinan reached out to remove Sheng Li’s mask. “Come on! Take off your mask and let me see. It’s just mango allergy—I’ve seen it before. Don’t carry that celebrity baggage so heavily.”
Sheng Li slapped her hand away and rolled her eyes. “Get lost! Didn’t you see my Weibo post at six?” Earlier, when Yuan Yuan had gone to deliver flowers and fruit to the doctors and nurses, Sheng Li had posted a unified response to those concerned about her health, explicitly refusing visits.
“Allergic reactions are ugly. What’s there to see? I said not to visit me, not to visit me. Let me recover my beauty in peace. Why are you here causing trouble? Did you do this on purpose?”
In recent years, the people around Sheng Li had been extremely cautious about her diet. The last allergic reaction had occurred five years ago. Back then, she had just enrolled at the Beijing Film Academy. On the first night of her freshman year, she had taken a bite of cake enthusiastically offered by her roommate—and triggered an allergic reaction.
That enthusiastic roommate who had fed her the toxic cake was none other than Zhou Sinan.
At the time, Rong Hua had secured an audition slot for Sheng Li with Director Li’s film. However, due to her hospitalization from the allergic reaction, she missed the audition. Meanwhile, Zhou Sinan’s agent coincidentally had also secured an audition slot, which she attended—and landed the role.
The timing of the incident was too coincidental. It was no wonder that Rong Hua and Sheng Li had suspected foul play. They believed that Zhou Sinan had intentionally fed her the toxic cake, as resource-grabbing tactics were all too common in the entertainment industry. This incident sparked a feud between Sheng Li and Zhou Sinan that lasted throughout their four years of university. The rivalry extended beyond just the two of them—it even spilled into their fanbases, with both sides clashing fiercely online. Sheng Li’s fans and Zhou Sinan’s supporters were like oil and water, completely incompatible.
It wasn’t until last year, when they were cast together in the same drama, that things began to shift. Over the course of two months on set, they were forced to play close-knit best friends—a pairing that many speculated was a deliberate attempt by the director to stir up publicity.
While they battled fiercely off-screen, their on-screen chemistry as devoted sisters was undeniable. By the end of the two months, the line between reality and fiction had blurred for both of them.
On the night of the wrap party, Zhou Sinan showed up at Sheng Li’s door with a bucket of spicy crayfish and a case of cold beer. After an awkward moment of staring at each other in the doorway, Sheng Li eventually invited her in.
That night, the two actresses—both of whom had been dieting for months—secretly indulged behind the backs of their agents and assistants. They devoured six pounds of crayfish and ten cans of beer. Midway through, Zhou Sinan earnestly apologized to Sheng Li, insisting that she hadn’t known about Sheng Li’s mango allergy and hadn’t intended to poison her.
Sheng Li, perhaps tipsy or deeply immersed in the emotions of their reconciliation, believed her. With magnanimity, she said, “Forget it. That movie didn’t do well anyway, and you got criticized for years.”
Zhou Sinan: “….”
A beat later, they burst out laughing, clinked their beer cans, and officially reconciled.
The next morning, Sheng Li regretted her words but knew it was too late to take them back. For Zhou Sinan, who had also grown emotionally attached during filming, the reconciliation seemed genuine. Over time, the two found themselves connecting more frequently, and before long, they realized they had waited too long to make peace.
In the past six months, their interactions on Weibo had become frequent. They posted pictures of meals together, shopping trips, and even promoted each other’s new projects, leaving fans stunned. However, their respective fanbases remained convinced that the reconciliation was nothing more than a publicity stunt for the drama they had filmed together—which was about to air. To the fans, this was all surface-level camaraderie, fake sisterhood through and through.
________________________________________
“I came to visit you, and you’re still complaining?” Zhou Sinan opened her private messages on Weibo and shoved her phone into Sheng Li’s hands. “Go ahead, look for yourself. Your hospital stay trended because of your mango allergy, and now everyone’s digging up that incident five years ago when I supposedly fed you that toxic cake. Read my comments and DMs. All your fans are cursing me. I didn’t even eat after wrapping my commercial shoot, and my driver drove for two hours to get me here. You owe me an explanation.”
Sheng Li: “….”
She frowned slightly. “I didn’t buy any promotional articles or push the topic onto the trending list. Only a small group of people know I’m hospitalized.”
“Sheng Baixue, you really underestimate your own popularity,” Zhou Sinan shot back, rolling her eyes. “There are hundreds of people on set, and you think you can keep a lid on it? Hospitals are bustling with people every day. Someone must have seen Yuan Yuan or your agent coming and going.” She added smugly, “Anyway, I’m the one suffering here.”
Sheng Li gave a tight-lipped smile. “Is that so? Empress Zhou?”
Because of that infamous “poisonous cake” incident five years ago, Zhou Sinan had earned the nickname “Empress Zhou,” while Sheng Li—the victim—was seen by her fans as pure and innocent, whiter than snow itself. In fact, nicknames like “Sheng Baixue” (Snow White Sheng) and “Empress Zhou” had initially been coined by fans as insults, but over time, they became inside jokes between the two women.
Sheng Li scrolled through the private messages and comments on Zhou Sinan’s Weibo. With 30 million followers, Sheng Li’s fanbase dwarfed Zhou Sinan’s by 10 million. As a result, Zhou Sinan had always been at a disadvantage in terms of online clout. Add to that the lingering stigma of the “poisonous cake” scandal, and her reputation among the general public had suffered significantly. For years, Zhou Sinan had been the target of relentless criticism from Sheng Li’s fans.
“These comments are brutal…” Sheng Li muttered under her breath.
Some examples:
“I’d forgotten about that time you poisoned her, but seeing it trend again reminded me. You’re so malicious!”
“Seeing this trending topic made me remember the past. Just wanted to come and curse you a bit. Malicious woman, I hope you disappear from the industry!”
“Li Li spent so much time promoting your new drama and even clarified during a livestream that it was all a misunderstanding. I almost believed you weren’t intentional, but now I’m not so sure. How could something like that happen by coincidence? Only someone as pure-hearted as Li Li would believe you. You’re such a schemer!”
“How does someone as malicious and disgusting as you still get roles? There must be some powerful backer pulling strings behind the scenes, taking advantage of our Li Li’s lack of connections.”
And worse still, there were conspiracy theories from fans: I suspect Empress Zhou hired someone to poison her. Didn’t some marketing accounts say she tried to steal the lead role for Jiangshan Scroll from Li Li?
Sheng Li: “….”
It really was quite bad. Her fans’ paranoia and conspiracy theories were even more intense than her own.
She glanced sympathetically at Zhou Sinan. “I’ll post something on Weibo later to clear things up.”
“Why wait? If you don’t hurry, I’ll drown in the flood of hate comments from your fans,” Zhou Sinan complained impatiently, snatching her phone back and shoving Sheng Li’s into her hands. “Post it now! Hurry up!”
Sheng Li sighed innocently. “Ever since I accidentally liked a bunch of promotional posts praising myself using my secondary account last time, Rong Hua confiscated my main Weibo account.”
Zhou Sinan: “….”
That incident had happened just two months ago, landing Sheng Li on the trending list for half a day and causing significant embarrassment. In the end, the company had to issue a lame statement claiming her account had been hacked.
Zhou Sinan wasn’t genuinely in such a rush for Sheng Li to post anything. After years of being attacked online, she had developed thick skin. Retrieving her phone, she asked casually, “You haven’t answered my question yet. In recent years, everyone around you has been super cautious about what you eat. Who dared to feed you something toxic this time?”
Too lazy to explain herself, Sheng Li let Yuan Yuan take over. Yuan Yuan smoothly recounted the events leading to Sheng Li’s allergic reaction, including Yu Chi’s visit earlier to discuss compensation.
Zhou Sinan noticed the ID card lying face-down on the table, partially covered by two sheets of paper. Picking it up, her eyes lit up. “Wow, he’s handsome—and not even 18 yet. In another three to five years, once he grows into his features, he’ll be unstoppable. Looks and presence like that could dominate the entertainment industry.”
Sheng Li shrugged dismissively. “From what I saw of his personality, he doesn’t seem like someone who’d enjoy this industry.”
“Based on my experience, anyone who dares to poison you is practically a warrior. Take me, for example—I survived years of your attacks without quitting the industry, which shows how resilient I am,” Zhou Sinan quipped, placing Yu Chi’s ID card on top of Sheng Li’s script. Raising an eyebrow, she added, “I have a feeling this kid is destined for great things. Given his looks, go easy on him. He’s still a minor, after all.”
Yuan Yuan couldn’t help but chime in quietly, “She already went easy on him. Otherwise, news of Li Li’s allergic reaction wouldn’t have only surfaced now. If it had leaked earlier, the restaurant and its owners would’ve been swarmed by angry fans and media. They might’ve even faced online harassment, which could’ve impacted his college entrance exam.”
Zhou Sinan thought for a moment. “So… where exactly did things go wrong?”
Sheng Li blinked. “I forgot to ask him.”
________________________________________
At 10:30 PM, deep into the night, within the hospital building.
Sheng Li held the piece of paper with Yu Chi’s number and entered it into her phone. She composed a text message and sent it off.
By midnight, she still hadn’t received a reply.
High school graduates fresh out of their exams were usually either attending graduation parties or letting loose, so it was unlikely he was sleeping.
Growing impatient, Sheng Li dialed the number directly. A cold, mechanical female voice responded: “Sorry, the number you dialed is currently switched off. Please try again later…”
Didn’t he say she could call him anytime?