Lin Wanwan was stunned for a moment, then she turned sideways and said naturally, “Come in and have a seat?”
With that, the woman stepped over the threshold and entered the studio, which was only about ten square meters in size.
She looked around, taking in the cardboard boxes stacked up to the ceiling, the folding bed in the corner that was only eighty centimeters wide, the mineral water bottle on the windowsill holding white chrysanthemums, and the countdown note taped to the nearby wall.
The words “Thirty Days” were circled twice in red ink.
The woman remained silent for a long time before turning to look at Lin Wanwan, her eyes slightly reddened. “You live here?”
Lin Wanwan replied calmly, “For three years now.”
The woman took a deep breath, her lips trembling slightly, but no words came out.
Lin Wanwan pulled out the only plastic stool from the corner. Its legs were a bit crooked, wobbling slightly when placed on the floor. “Sit.”
The woman sat down, and Lin Wanwan took a seat on the edge of the bed. They faced each other.
Only about one and a half meters apart, with a thermos sitting on the floor between them. Its outer shell was dented from falling off the table last winter.
The woman removed her mask.
Her face appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with delicate features but fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Dark circles under her eyes hinted at an indescribable exhaustion—not the kind from staying up a few nights, but the kind that comes from carrying a burden for many years, almost to the breaking point.
“My name is Xu Jia,” she said. “I used to be a talent agent at Xingyao Media.”
Lin Wanwan’s eyebrows twitched slightly. “Used to be?”
Xu Jia nodded. “Ten years ago, I was quite well-known in the industry. I managed three A-list celebrities, with annual revenue exceeding a hundred million.”
She paused, then smiled—a smile so bitter it was almost painful. “Then I offended someone.”
“Li Jianguo?”
“Li Jianguo’s boss.”
Lin Wanwan was stunned.
Xu Jia could tell what she was thinking and shook her head.
“Li Jianguo is just the public face. The real power is the person behind him—the true capital. That person never shows up publicly, but in the entire entertainment industry, whoever he wants to blacklist gets blacklisted.”
“You offended him?”
“It wasn’t me who offended him,” Xu Jia’s eyes turned cold. “He took an interest in one of the artists I managed and wanted me to arrange a dinner. I refused.”
“And then?”
“Then, within a week, all three of my artists terminated their contracts. I couldn’t secure any work, and every company blacklisted me. For three years, I completely disappeared.”
She looked at Lin Wanwan, speaking each word deliberately. “Just like you are now.”
Lin Wanwan remained silent.
Xu Jia continued, her voice flat, as if recounting someone else’s story.
“Over the past ten years, I’ve worked as a waitress, delivered food, driven for ride-sharing apps. I didn’t dare use my real name or contact anyone I used to know. During holidays, I’d lock myself in my rented room and stare at the ceiling.”
“Until two days ago, when I saw you on my phone.”
“I saw you in court saying, ‘Let me sleep on the company floor.'”
“I saw you receiving white chrysanthemums and singing that song, ‘I’m Not Dead Yet.'”
“I saw you asking fans to crowdfund fifty yuan and saying, ‘I’m just begging for food.'”
She smiled, and there was something bright in that smile. “At that moment, I knew…”
“You’re the person I’ve been waiting for these ten years.”
Lin Wanwan’s heart stirred, and she activated the [Eye of Truth]. Above the woman’s head, several lines of semi-transparent text appeared:
[Emotion: Calm 71%], [Anticipation 86%], [Sincerity 92%], Inner Thought: “This isn’t an act. She’s not lying.”
【Background: Former top agent at Star Glory Media, with twelve years in the industry, having nurtured three A-list celebrities. Known in the industry as “Sister Jia.”】
【Hidden Information: Ten years ago, she was blacklisted by capital for refusing to arrange for artists to attend drinking parties. The blacklist remains in effect to this day. Currently renting a 10-square-meter partitioned room in Tongzhou, with a bank balance of 638 yuan.】
Lin Wanwan read through it and fell silent for a few seconds.
Outside the window, a tricycle collecting scrap passed by, its loudspeaker blaring, “Old refrigerators, old TVs, washing machines…” The sound faded into the distance.
She asked, “Why have you come to me?”
Xu Jia took a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her.
It was a handwritten agreement, the characters pressed so firmly into the paper that some strokes had pierced through:
“Letter of Intent for Cooperation”
Xu Jia would serve as Lin Wanwan’s personal consultant, with no formal contract, no binding obligations, and the arrangement could be terminated at any time.
Xu Jia would be responsible for connecting all work opportunities, media resources, and legal matters.
All income would be split 70% to Lin Wanwan and 30% to Xu Jia.
Accounts would be transparent and open to inspection at any time.
If Lin Wanwan felt Xu Jia was problematic, she could dismiss her at any time, without needing to provide a reason.
Lin Wanwan stared at the paper for a long time.
She had seen too many contracts—90-10 splits, predatory clauses, hidden terms, five-million-yuan penalties for breach—all of them traps. But this one…
She looked up and met Xu Jia’s eyes. “You’re not signing me, just helping me?”
Xu Jia nodded.
“I take 70%, you take 30%?”
Xu Jia nodded again.
“Accounts transparent, open to inspection anytime?”
Xu Jia continued nodding.
“If I want you gone, you leave immediately?”
Xu Jia smiled. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Xu Jia looked at her, her expression earnest. “Because I’m not here to make money off you.”
“I’m here…”
She paused, as if holding something back, her Adam’s apple moving slightly. “To finish the battle I didn’t finish ten years ago.”
Lin Wanwan studied the agreement intently for a long time.
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the floor between them. The bouquet of white chrysanthemums was in full bloom, the edges of the petals slightly wilted, but their faint fragrance mingled with the musty smell of cardboard boxes.
Xu Jia didn’t rush her, just sat there quietly, hands resting on her knees. Her nails were trimmed short, her knuckles slightly rough from years of hard work.
Lin Wanwan suddenly asked, “Aren’t you afraid?”
Xu Jia was taken aback. “Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of being blacklisted again.”
“Afraid of disappearing for another ten years.”
“Afraid that in the end, you’ll still have nothing.”
Xu Jia fell silent for a few seconds, then smiled, her eyes reddening as she did. “Yes, I’m afraid.”
“But I’m even more afraid…”
She looked out the window, her voice dropping low:
“More afraid that on the day I die, I’ll look back and regret giving up ten years ago.”
Lin Wanwan looked at her, at the fine lines around her eyes, the dark circles beneath them, and the fire that still burned in her gaze.
It wasn’t a big fire, but it was still burning.
Lin Wanwan picked up a pen and signed the agreement.
Xu Jia was stunned. “You… aren’t you afraid I’m a fraud?”
Lin Wanwan handed the agreement back and smiled.
“A fraud wouldn’t write ‘you can dismiss me at any time.'”
“A fraud wouldn’t say ‘you take 70%.'”
“A fraud…”
She paused. “Wouldn’t have eyes like yours.”
Xu Jia took the agreement, looked at the signature, and suddenly lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. When she looked up again, her eyes were red, but she didn’t let the tears fall.
She stood up and extended her hand. “Lin Wanwan, I look forward to working with you.”
Lin Wanwan shook her hand. “Sister Xu Jia, welcome aboard.”
Xu Jia sat back down, suppressing her emotions as her expression turned serious. “Now, I need to tell you the first thing.”
Lin Wanwan nodded.
Xu Jia pointed to the bouquet of white chrysanthemums on the windowsill. “Do you know who sent these?”
Lin Wanwan shook her head.
“It wasn’t Li Jianguo.”
Lin Wanwan froze.
Xu Jia continued, “Li Jianguo is locked up now. The people under him are busy cutting ties and saving themselves—they don’t have time to bother with you.”
“The one who sent these is someone else.”
“Who?”
Xu Jia looked at her and spoke slowly, word by word. “The person behind Li Jianguo.”
Lin Wanwan’s pupils contracted slightly.
Xu Jia took out her phone, pulled up a photo, and handed it over.
The photo was blurry, as if taken from a distance. But it was clear enough to make out the profile of a man in his fifties, wearing a dark suit, standing beside a black car while talking on the phone.
“His name is Zhao Tai,” Xu Jia said. “The owner of Taihe Capital.”
“He holds shares in more than half of the entertainment industry’s companies.”
“Li Jianguo was just the pawn he pushed to the forefront.”
“What you’ve offended was never Xingyao Media.”
“It was Zhao Tai.”
Xu Jia put her phone away, her voice lowering. “Why do you think Li Jianguo dared to act so arrogantly?”
“Because he had someone backing him up.”
“Why do you think the trending searches still couldn’t be taken down even after Xingyao Media collapsed?”
“Because someone was protecting you.”
Lin Wanwan was stunned. “Who was protecting me?”
Xu Jia shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“But whoever can suppress Zhao Tai must have significant influence.”
Lin Wanwan fell silent.
She remembered the text message: “The game has just begun. Don’t die too soon.”
She remembered the mysterious “Capital Bane,” who deleted their account after sending the evidence.
She remembered the tax bureau officials from Jiangcheng, who arrived so quickly and precisely.
She had always thought she had won because of public support. But now it seemed that wasn’t the only reason.
Xu Jia leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as if speaking to herself. “Do you know how Zhao Tai got his start?”
“Twenty years ago, he was just a loan shark. Later, he realized the entertainment industry was a fast way to make money and started investing in films and TV shows. At first, it was small investments, then gradually he took controlling stakes, and after that…”
She paused. “Whatever he wanted, he got.”
“If he wanted a certain actress to have dinner with him, you had to arrange it. If he wanted a cut of a project, you had to give it to him. If he wanted someone to disappear, they disappeared.”
“The artist I managed back then was named Zhou Xiaoyun. She was twenty, just starting to get famous after a breakout role. Zhao Tai sent word that he wanted to invite her to dinner.”
“I said no, she was too young.”
“The next day, all three artists under me received calls saying their contracts were terminated.”
“Within a week, I had nothing left.”
“Zhou Xiaoyun ended up going to that dinner anyway. Later, she fell into depression, left the industry, and now runs a clothing store in her hometown.”
As she spoke, Xu Jia let out a laugh, but it was uglier than a sob. “Before she left, she sent me a text message saying, ‘Sister Jia, I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on.'”
“I told her I was the one who should be sorry.”
Lin Wanwan looked at her and suddenly asked, “Can you still get in touch with her now?”
Xu Jia was taken aback. “Yes, why?”
Lin Wanwan said, “When I make it big, I’ll invite her to dinner.”
Xu Jia looked at her, her eyes reddening again.
She took a deep breath, suppressing her emotions. “Remember when I said there was a condition?”
Lin Wanwan nodded.
Xu Jia gazed at her, her expression serious. “You have to help me take down someone.”
“Zhao Tai.”
Lin Wanwan remained silent.
Xu Jia continued, “Ten years ago, he destroyed me.”
“Ten years later, he wants to destroy you.”
“If we don’t take him down, what happened today will repeat itself in another ten years.”
“There will be another Lin Wanwan, another Xu Jia.”
“There will be white chrysanthemums, countdowns, blacklisting, and disappearances.”
She stood up, walked to the window, and turned her back to Lin Wanwan, looking out at the dusty street. “I’m thirty-seven this year.”
“No family, no children, no career.”
“For the past ten years, every morning when I wake up, I’ve thought about one thing…”
“What would it have been like if I hadn’t given up ten years ago?”
She turned around, looked at Lin Wanwan, and finally, tears fell. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“Now, I just want to act.”
Lin Wanwan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Xu Jia for a long time. Then she stood up, walked over to Xu Jia, and stood beside her.
Outside the window were the low-rise buildings of the urban village, crowded together densely. In the distance, a few newly built high-end residences gleamed blindingly in the sunlight.
She said, “Sister Xu Jia, do you know why I’m called Lin Wanwan?”
Xu Jia shook her head.
Lin Wanwan smiled. “My mother gave birth to me at night.”
“She said children born at night have tough fates.”
“They’re not afraid of the dark.”
She turned to look at Xu Jia. “I’m not even afraid of death.”
“Why would I be afraid of someone like Zhao Tai?”
Xu Jia was stunned, then she laughed. But as she laughed, tears streamed down her face again. She raised her hand to wipe them away, but they only flowed more heavily.
Lin Wanwan didn’t say anything, just stood beside her and waited.
When Xu Jia finished crying, Lin Wanwan pulled a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to her. “Done crying? Time to work.”
Xu Jia took the tissue, wiped her face, her eyes still red, but her gaze had changed.
Hot search updates in real-time:
#Lin Wanwan Signs with Mysterious Agent!# (7th place)
#Who Is Xu Jia?# (9th place)
#The Top Agent from Ten Years Ago!# (12th place)
Under the topics, people began digging into Xu Jia’s past:
“Holy crap, I found it! Ten years ago, Xu Jia managed Zhou Xiaoyun, Chen Bei, and Zhang Han—all top-tier stars back then!”
“Why did she disappear later?”
“Heard she offended someone…”
“Offended who?”
“Don’t know, but definitely someone powerful.”
“Lin Wanwan is about to stir up something big!”
Some poured cold water:
“A washed-up agent and a blacklisted minor actress—what can they possibly achieve together?”
“Don’t end up sinking together.”
“Lin Wanwan should back out now. It’s not too late to leave the industry.”
But fans quickly fired back:
“Sink? Our Wanjie was never even popular to begin with!”
“Exactly, climbing up from the basement—every step counts.”
“Waiting for the comeback.”
Meanwhile, an anonymous post appeared on a forum:
“Warning to Lin Wanwan: The person Xu Jia offended is someone you can’t afford to cross. It’s not too late to back out now.”
Under the post, there was only one reply:
“It’s too late.”
“She’s already on her way.”
At that moment, Xu Jia hadn’t left.
She said to Lin Wanwan, “Since you’re here, let me treat you to a meal.”
The two went downstairs and sat down at the ramen shop at the entrance of the alley. Two bowls of beef noodles, each with an extra egg, came to a total of thirty-six yuan.
Xu Jia insisted on paying.
However, Lin Wanwan looked at her bowl of noodles and suddenly asked:
“You only have six hundred-something yuan left in your card, and you’re treating me to noodles?”
Xu Jia was taken aback. “How do you know?”
Lin Wanwan lowered her head and ate her noodles without answering.
Xu Jia watched her for a moment but didn’t press further, instead turning her attention to her own bowl.
Halfway through the meal, Lin Wanwan suddenly spoke:
“Sister Xu Jia.”
“Hmm?”
“Starting today, you don’t have to carry everything alone anymore.”
Xu Jia’s chopsticks paused.
Lin Wanwan continued eating her noodles without looking up.
Xu Jia watched her, staring at the head buried in the bowl for several seconds, then she lowered her own head and kept eating.
The noodle shop was filled with steam. The owner’s wife called from the kitchen, “Order fifteen is ready!”, and outside, someone rode past on an electric scooter, honking twice.
As Xu Jia ate, she felt that today’s noodles tasted a little different.
Now, Xu Jia stood at the door, ready to leave. She put on her mask, pulled up her hood, and turned to look at Lin Wanwan:
“Starting tomorrow, I’ll handle all the arrangements for you.”
“Take these next few days to rest and recharge.”
Lin Wanwan nodded.
Xu Jia turned to leave.
After taking two steps, she stopped again. Without turning around, her voice muffled as she spoke with her back to Lin Wanwan:
“Lin Wanwan.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For making me wait ten years, and finally giving me someone brave enough to go crazy with me.”
With that, she walked away.
Her footsteps echoed in the stairwell for a while before fading.
Lin Wanwan stood at the door, watching the black figure disappear around the corner.
The stairwell was quiet, but faint sounds of an argument drifted down from the third floor, and a child was crying downstairs.
Just as Lin Wanwan was about to close the door, her phone vibrated. It was a text message from an unknown number.
The message contained only one sentence: “She waited ten years for you, and you waited ten years for her. Now, you can finally go crazy together.”
Lin Wanwan stared at the words, her fingers tightening slightly.
She looked up toward the window at the end of the hallway. Outside, the sky was growing dark, and the streetlights had just flickered on, casting a dim yellow glow on the ground.
She didn’t recognize the number, but the tone reminded her of the “the game has just begun” text message; of the mysterious “Capital Bane”; of what Xu Jia had said earlier that day: “Someone is protecting you.”
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned to go inside.
The room was unlit, but the light from outside filtered through the window, illuminating the bouquet of white chrysanthemums.
Standing in the darkness, Lin Wanwan looked at the flowers, then smiled softly and whispered, “Then let’s go crazy together.”