Chapter 5

Jiang Yanzhou wasn’t always such a bastard. When Song Zhi first met him, he could still pass as a relatively normal teenager.

Though quiet and exuding an aloof aura that made others keep their distance, his prominent family background, excellent academic performance, and devastatingly handsome face were enough to draw crowds of infatuated girls—even if he did his best to appear unapproachable.

At least back then, he would politely decline their advances instead of resorting to the kind of violence he displayed now—like throwing someone out of a bar for simply showing interest.

During a senior-year basketball game, Song Luo, the team captain, had forcibly dragged his younger sister, Song Zhi, over to act as a cheerleader.

It was midsummer, and Song Zhi wore a revealing cheerleading outfit she’d borrowed from some dance students. The fit wasn’t perfect—too loose where it should’ve been snug, and too short where it should’ve been modest. In the end, she opted for the shorter version.

Because she spent extra time in the locker room fussing over the sizing, she arrived late to the match.

She held a parasol and took a shortcut to the court.

The high school building was so luxurious it resembled a commercial center, complete with elevators, a gym, and two newly built swimming pools. Rumor had it that a wealthy transfer student’s family had donated funds to the school—and even three entire buildings.

Rich and clueless, indeed.

The atmosphere at the basketball court was electric. Song Zhi walked under her umbrella, shielding herself from the sun.

Then, her steps froze.

In a narrow alley nearby, a figure leaned against the wall, smoking. Behind him was darkness, devoid of sunlight.

When their eyes met, he didn’t flinch. He stared directly at her, unbothered.

His hand holding the cigarette was long, pale, and bloodless—like a vampire emerging from the night. Restrained yet dangerous.

His bangs were slightly too long, almost covering his eyes, but they couldn’t obscure the sharp, almond-shaped eyes beneath. His gaze was shadowed, exuding a quiet sense of despair.

He looked like a wilting rose—beautiful in its decay, carrying the most exquisite allure of ruin.

His uniform was worn impeccably, the zipper pulled all the way up to his chin, lightly brushing against it.

If you ignored the cigarette between his fingers, he might’ve passed as a model student.

He had been watching her for a while now, ever since she took the shortcut. His gaze never left her, trailing from her thighs to her slender waist, and finally resting on her delicate, palm-sized face.

Far from being offended, she coyly asked, “Am I not beautiful?”

He said nothing, extinguishing the cigarette butt and tossing it into the trash.

Cold and detached, yet impeccably mannered.

Song Zhi stood there confidently, closing her umbrella. “Everyone has the right to admire beauty. If you want to look, go ahead.”

He was silent; she was vain.

Two strange individuals meeting on a sunny summer day, amidst the innocence of campus life.

Recalling this memory made Song Zhi cringe so hard her toes curled. How could she have been so shameless back then?

She happened to be standing right by the elevator entrance, blocking the path of Jiang Yanzhou and his entourage. His assistant politely interjected: “Excuse me, could you step aside?”

Only then did Song Zhi realize her faux pas. She apologized and moved out of the way.

As the elevator doors slowly closed, Xu glanced back wistfully. “That guy was insanely handsome, manly as hell. And judging by his demeanor, he must be some big shot.”

Song Zhi wanted to tell him, “Actually, he’s even manlier in bed.”

But that wouldn’t fit her persona.

“Enough,” Song Zhi said. “Your eyes are practically glued to his ass.”

Beside her, He Hanyang raised an eyebrow, thinking he’d misheard.

Song Zhi nearly forgot there were others around. Feigning shock, she dramatically covered her mouth. “Oh no, did I just swear?”

He Hanyang chuckled. “What swear? That’s philosophy.”

Xu stood there awkwardly, utterly speechless.

These two truly made a perfect pair—one shameless, the other blind.

After parting ways with He Hanyang, Song Zhi was about to call her driver when Xu approached her, hesitating. “Song Zhi, you might have to pull an all-nighter today.”

The Night’s Big Guest , the flagship program of Diamond TV, had been running since the 1990s. Though its outdated hosting style had caused ratings to drop, it remained a highly regarded show thanks to its strong backing.

The originally scheduled guest had canceled due to unforeseen circumstances, and Song Zhi was called in as a last-minute replacement.

The last time she appeared on this show was two years ago when she was still the maknae of an obscure girl group, playing the role of a clueless ditz who struggled to calculate 5+6 without using her fingers.

In the dressing room, the director handed her a bottle of sugar-free soda. “You just came straight here after another event. I wouldn’t have bothered you if we weren’t desperate.”

Song Zhi smiled sincerely, exuding a mix of charm and cuteness. “Sister, don’t say such formalities. I should be thanking you for letting me appear on the show.”

With just those few words, she managed to make Jiang Yin, the director nicknamed “The Exterminator,” beam with delight. “Still calling me ‘sister’? Aren’t you afraid of messing up the hierarchy?”

Song Zhi feigned innocence. “But your skin looks amazing. You don’t look a day over thirty.”

Jiang Yin pretended to be upset. “You little brat! Don’t joke about my age. What do you mean ‘thirty-something’? I’m already in my forties!”

Song Zhi gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Sister is already forty? I thought you were in your early thirties!”

Xu watched as Song Zhi effortlessly turned the intimidating director into a smiling, cheerful woman. He silently gave her a mental thumbs-up.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With her talent for flattery, how could she possibly lack connections?

In the entertainment industry, connections were everything—and this was one of Song Zhi’s natural advantages.

With ten minutes left before recording began, Jiang Yin adjusted her watch and glanced at the time. “It’s almost time. I won’t disturb you anymore. Get ready.”

“Thank you, Sister~ See you later!”

Before leaving, Jiang Yin added, “My birthday is next week. You must come. I’ll introduce you to some important people.”

“Of course! I’ll definitely be there!”

The door opened and closed again, the sound of heels clicking on marble fading away.

Finally alone, Song Zhi relaxed her posture and leaned back in her chair to message Jiang Yanzhou.

[Song Zhi: I have something tonight and might return late. My little darling, rest early. MUA~]

After a moment’s thought, she added a cute kitten emoji before putting her phone away.

From the neighboring dressing room came the sounds of an argument, occasionally punctuated by the shattering of objects.

Where there were women, there was drama. Song Zhi’s inner gossip fiend ignited, ears perking up as she focused on eavesdropping.

Xu entered with a coffee, handing it to her. “Hot, no sugar.”

Song Zhi accepted the coffee. “It sounds like they’re fighting next door.”

Xu pulled up a chair and sat down. “I heard it when I came in earlier.”

The argument grew louder, reaching its peak. There was no need to strain to hear now.

Faintly, she caught words like “fifty million” and “investor.”

Xu pulled out his thermos, preparing a cup of Ovaltine. Stirring it with a spoon, he explained what he’d overheard earlier. “Apparently, some big shot named Jiang Yanzhou invested fifty million in a drama and forced an actress into the cast—a complete nobody, Lin Shanshan or something. She stole the role of the original lead actress, who just got the news and is now throwing a tantrum next door.”

Role-stealing was common in the entertainment industry.

Young, beautiful actresses often slept their way to resources, climbing into the beds of balding, beer-bellied investors. Song Zhi had seen plenty of cases like this, and...

Her train of thought snapped back to the present. Frowning, she asked Xu, “Can you repeat those two names you mentioned earlier?”

“Jiang Yanzhou and Lin Shanshan.”

The paper cup in her hand crumpled. Damn it, Jiang Yanzhou—the supposedly chaste and righteous man—had surprisingly consistent taste.

No matter the age, he always preferred white lotus types.

After the show ended, Song Zhi returned to the hotel and immediately called Tang Xiaoyan to vent her anger at Jiang Yanzhou.

“Jiang Yanzhou is such a fucking idiot! Do you know who he’s messing around with now? And he has the nerve to criticize my taste? I think his eyeballs fell into a garbage dump. Should I donate him a new pair? Seriously, who does he think he is? If I don’t yell at him to his face, I’ll strip and do a pole dance right now, you old bastard!”

As her best friend, Tang Xiaoyan always sided with her unconditionally.

So Song Zhi felt free to curse and make empty threats during their calls, though she’d forget all about them by the next day.

After all, she could never dare to confront Jiang Yanzhou face-to-face. She’d probably vanish without a trace if she did.

Thinking about the guard dogs he kept made her shiver. A single bite from them would probably hurt for days.

Just as she finished venting, she noticed Tang Xiaoyan hadn’t chimed in with curses. Confused, she waited.

Tang Xiaoyan hesitated before speaking. “Song Zhi, brace yourself. If there’s a chair nearby, sit down. If not, lean against the wall—just find something to steady yourself.”

Song Zhi frowned. “What?”

Tang Xiaoyan took a deep breath, her tone heavy with complexity. “I went home today, and... my uncle was there. When you called, he happened to glance at me, and I panicked, accidentally hitting the speaker button. Long story short, my uncle’s face isn’t looking too good right now. Maybe you should pack some essentials and flee the country until things cool down.”

Tang Xiaoyan’s uncle...

Song Zhi’s legs buckled, and she finally understood the gravity of the situation. Leaning against the wall, she barely managed to stay upright.

Hoping against hope, she asked, “Is it one of your other uncles?”

Tang Xiaoyan sealed her fate. “No, it’s the one surnamed Jiang.”