A replay video of a live stream, not to mention the revenue split, just a single ad can bring in millions.
Even though that income has nothing to do with them, the monthly bonus can still double because of it. No wonder everyone’s so motivated.
The PD lugged his camera around, not looking the least bit tired.
Renee Morgan suddenly realized—maybe she wasn’t even that ambitious? Because no one could outwork the production team anyway.
Wendy Aldridge had fallen behind. Looking up, she just happened to catch Renee Morgan and the PD whispering to each other, her eyebrows shooting up fiercely.
No wonder Renee Morgan could rise to fame so fast on the show—turns out she’s "intimately connected" with the crew.
Maybe she could get someone to keep an eye on Renee Morgan and her PD, and at the crucial moment record the evidence—best-case scenario, they’d catch their dirty, indecent actions on camera, expose them during a live stream. Once Renee’s perfect goddess image was shattered in front of the public, who would still like her?
Too bad she didn’t have her phone on her now, otherwise she could have snapped some photos for evidence first.
Wendy Aldridge felt as if she’d finally found Renee Morgan’s flaw. She was so excited her whole body trembled, her face flushed, and she mustered up her strength to catch up.
Renee Morgan heard her and turned back. Wendy Aldridge was now running beside her, blocking the PD’s camera.
The PD stopped chasing with the camera, and instead used a long lens to film the two of them from behind.
Renee looked at the others who were focused solely on running, then glanced back at Wendy Aldridge, whose eyes were eerily bright in the darkness. Renee frowned, instinctively picking up her pace, putting distance between them.
"Renee, Renee..." Wendy Aldridge suddenly called out to her by name.
Renee knew she couldn’t dodge it, so she turned her head and looked at her directly. "What is it?"
Wendy quickly caught up, panting as she spoke, "How are you so fit? Do you run a lot usually?"
Renee replied in an even tone: "I have a habit of working out every day."
Wendy ran to Renee’s left side, spotted the slope on that side out of her eye, her gaze flickering, then edged closer to Renee.
Renee instinctively shifted left, just about to move forward when Wendy’s body suddenly crashed into her.
If it had been someone else, they’d have had no time to dodge, and probably would have been knocked down the slope. But Renee had her skills; with a nimble swerve, she watched as Wendy went flying, tumbling down the hill.
A scream tore through the night, then Wendy’s voice was abruptly cut off by the darkness.
The others heard it and hurried over.
The team leader anxiously asked Renee what happened.
Renee pointed at the spot where Wendy had fallen, "She was running really fast, rushed over here, and I dodged. Then she just went right down the slope."
The team leader didn’t blame Renee for not grabbing Wendy, or for dodging; the road was wide enough—if Wendy somehow managed to plunge down the slope, she only had herself to blame for not watching where she was going.
"Team leader, Wendy won’t be in trouble, right?" Lynn Miller asked worriedly.
"She’ll be fine, there’s a railing here. At most, she’ll get a few scrapes," the team leader reassured them, telling the others to stay up top and not climb down. He’d been here during the day—he knew the terrain better.
Everyone watched the team leader climb down in the dark. Soon after, they heard his voice; he’d found her.
Gael Prescott and Lynn Miller tried making their way down, and soon enough, the three of them helped Wendy out.
Luckily, there were bushes on the slope; otherwise, from that height, she definitely would’ve broken something. Even so, Wendy was pretty beat up—her arms were scratched, a patch of skin was torn from her cheek. She looked a mess.
Wendy didn’t say a word, tears sliding down her face as she kept crying silently.
After they helped her up, the team leader took her back to treat her wounds, while the others finished the three-kilometer night run as usual and returned to rest.
Wendy followed the team leader back, noticing Renee’s PD still standing in the same place, seemingly focused on checking the camera and not having noticed what had happened ahead.
Wendy glanced at the other PDs. They had carried their cameras but stopped running after a stretch, turning and heading back up the path.
Of course, there was no way the PDs were going to follow them for a full three kilometers. It was night, not live broadcast time; a few shots would do, stitched together with other footage for the replay.
Wendy lowered her gaze, exhaling in relief—no one had caught it on camera. The resentment in her eyes had now morphed into burning hatred.
By the time Renee and the rest finished the three-kilometer run and got back, half an hour had passed.
The PDs were already waiting, ready to get more shots of them.
After greeting everyone, Renee grabbed her clothes and headed to the showers. A few minutes later, as she came out and reached the dorm entrance, she saw someone standing there.
Renee paused, walked over slowly to see who it was, but seeing that it was "the delicate flower" herself didn’t make her let her guard down. In fact, it put her even more on edge. "Wendy Aldridge?"
Wendy had been knocking at the door for ages. When she heard footsteps, she turned around to see Renee carrying a washbasin and a towel, clearly just back from the showers.
"Renee, my shoe slipped just now, that’s why I fell," Wendy said. The first thing out of her mouth was an excuse.
Renee didn’t know what she was after; in the dim light, she glanced at Wendy’s bandaged arms and cheek. The wounds had been treated and no longer looked too scary—nothing too serious, apparently.
Renee couldn’t tell if she felt regret or admiration. Just now, Wendy had taken a hard fall, but here she was in the middle of the night, "cleaning up the mess" herself. Only Wendy could manage that.
Seeing Renee silent, Wendy looked a little nervous. "I nearly bumped into you earlier. I wanted to come apologize."
Compared to denial, a bold admission makes people soften. Isn’t there a saying: honesty is always the ultimate weapon?
If it weren’t for those dream warnings, Renee would have no idea that Wendy had once slipped her allergy-inducing drugs, or that Wendy had picked Renee as a foil from the beginning, planning to use her as the sacrifice for her own rise.
Looking at the fragile, injured Wendy lowering herself like this, anyone would probably let their guard down, and step right into the trap she had set.
"It’s nothing, honestly. I didn’t see what was happening, and I dodged before I realized it was you. If I’d known your shoe slipped, I would’ve grabbed you. Sorry, I just didn’t catch you in time..." Renee glanced at her wounds with a guilty look. "Seeing you get hurt like that, it makes me feel really bad."
If the other party was taking the weak approach, she ought to show strong protectiveness toward the "vulnerable" party.
If Wendy wanted her to be the prey, then so be it—she’d play the part of the prey.
Isn’t there another saying—the best hunters often appear in the guise of their prey?
Seeing Renee softened by her act, Wendy’s tense expression eased, replaced by a smile. "I’m fine, it’s just some scrapes. The team leader helped treat the wounds; they’ll scab over in a few days. Good thing you dodged, or if you’d gotten hurt too, I’d feel horrible."