Qingxin Entertainment.
Wen Li pulled a folder from the thick stack of documents and slapped it onto the table with a crisp smack. “Whose role is this? Reject it. Our company isn’t taking it.”
The moment agent Liu Jie saw the three big characters Chang’an Crossing on the script, her expression changed.
“Ms. Wen, this is the female second lead our company spent two months fighting to secure. Director He Jianping’s project. An S+ production with three hundred million in investment. This role was meant for Xiangwan. You see…”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but her meaning was plain. A resource this good, and you’re throwing it away just like that?
Su Xiangwan was the most popular actress under her. She’d told her just two days ago that the company would give her this female second lead. If they rejected it now, what would Su Xiangwan think?
Wen Li’s expression didn’t change.
Of course she knew what caliber of project Chang’an Crossing was. In her last life, from development to promotion, it had been a top-tier configuration. Everyone assumed it would blow up. When it aired, it flopped so quietly nobody noticed.
The flop wasn’t entirely because the male lead, Zhou Ze, had crashed and burned later. It was because the director, He Jianping, came from a film background. Even doing television, he insisted on so-called “respect for history.” He believed women in the Tang dynasty had high status and dressed openly, so he demanded all his actresses wear extremely revealing costumes, pushing right up to the line of indecency.
Less than a week after the drama went live, it was hit with mass reports from viewers. The broadcasting authority ordered immediate rectification. With the order in hand, the entire drama was pulled from the air. It took two full months of editing before it was allowed back online. By then the plot was in tatters, and both its reputation and ratings collapsed.
A pit like that. She’d have to be an idiot to jump in.
“The role isn’t good. We’re not taking it.” Wen Li was brief and to the point. She didn’t bother explaining further. “Tomorrow I’ll give Su Xiangwan a better script. I guarantee it’ll be a hit.”
Liu Jie opened her mouth, then closed it without saying anything. But her face was written all over with disbelief.
The other agents stayed quiet too, exchanging glances. The air in the conference room thickened.
Wen Li couldn’t be bothered to care whether they believed her.
She glanced up at the clock on the wall. The hour hand had just touched six. Today was the second day of her rebirth, the beginning of her new career. She was not working overtime.
Wen Li shot to her feet.
“Work’s over. Anything else, we’ll discuss tomorrow.”
She grabbed her bag and walked out on her heels. The click of her heels against the marble floor echoed behind her, her retreating figure so unhurried that the overtime-hardened agents exchanged stunned looks.
Downstairs, the driver, Old Chen, had already parked in front of the office building and was waiting. A black Maybach, its body gleaming, stood out conspicuously among a row of shared bikes and ride-hailing cars.
Old Chen spotted Wen Li coming out from a distance and hurried to open the rear door for her, manner deferential. “Madam, please get in.”
Wen Li bent and slid inside. The door shut softly, sealing out the muggy early-summer evening air. The Maybach pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and merged into the rush-hour traffic.
Up by the office windows, several people had pressed themselves against the glass, watching the Maybach’s taillights disappear around the corner. A chorus of hushed gasps went up.
“Good lord. A Maybach. What kind of family does Ms. Wen come from?”
“That face plus that car. Top-tier rich girl. Beautiful, family’s loaded, and she walks straight in as general manager right out of school. Ms. Wen’s future is blinding.”
“She’s probably never had a single worry in her life.”
Amid the wave of envy, a sharp, cold laugh cut in. “Rich girl, my foot. Qingxin’s about to go under. She won’t stay rich for long.”
Everyone turned. The speaker was an agent in her thirties, surnamed Fang, who managed a few minor artists and had a reputation in the company for a venomous tongue.
She leaned against her cubicle partition with her arms crossed, a mocking smile on her lips.
“Sister Fang, what do you mean by that?” Someone edged closer to ask.
Seeing that everyone had their ears pricked, Agent Fang grew more animated, pitching her voice so the whole office could hear. “You didn’t know? Mr. Wen lost a performance bet in the first half of the year. The company’s funding chain is about to snap. Otherwise, why do you think he’d push his own daughter out to take the reins?”
Someone gasped. “Really?”
“Would I lie to you? And the best part’s still coming.” Agent Fang jerked her chin toward the conference room. “Our Ms. Wen, on her very first day, did something earth-shattering. She threw away the female second lead in Chang’an Crossing.”
“What?!”
“Chang’an Crossing? Director He Jianping’s Chang’an Crossing? That’s a resource our company spent two months fighting for!”
“Just like that, she’s giving it up?”
Agent Fang savored the shock on their faces, then slowly twisted the knife. “She said the role wasn’t good. Said she’d find Su Xiangwan something better tomorrow. Better, if you can believe it. Better than Chang’an Crossing. I’d like to ask, is there anything better than Chang’an Crossing in this industry? Just wait. The way she’s going, Qingxin won’t last a month.”
The words landed like a bucket of cold water on everyone’s heads. The employees who had been lost in the fairy tale of the “rich-girl Ms. Wen” suddenly grew anxious and restless.
Some quietly opened their job-hunting apps. Some bowed their heads to message recruiters they knew. Others huddled together, whispering about whether they should jump ship before it was too late.
Wen Li knew nothing of any of this.
The Maybach glided down Haishi’s busiest streets, the neon lights flashing across her profile one by one. She leaned back against the leather seat, her gaze drifting over the city’s nightscape outside the window, her mind still running through the project files she’d reviewed today.
Then, belatedly, a thought surfaced.
Ji Zongting would be home tonight.
The thought came out of nowhere and made her spine stiffen for a beat. Her last life had been the same. He’d flown overseas after they got their certificate and returned three days later.
Tonight was their nominal “wedding night.”
They had no feelings for each other, but that night, what was supposed to happen still happened. And…
Wen Li thought of certain ambiguous details, and her ears warmed.
She looked down at her newly done nails, the crystal fragments catching a cold glint under the car’s ceiling light. Her fingers curled unconsciously.
Just as she was lost in thought, the phone resting on her lap buzzed.
She looked down. A WeChat message had popped up on the screen.
[Ji Zongting: Where are you?]
Wen Li picked up the phone, her fingers reacting faster than her brain.
[Wen Li: At the office.]
Wen Li stared at the message she’d sent, so annoyed with herself she wanted to chop off her own hand.
Stupid hand. Why did you reply so fast? Couldn’t you leave him hanging for a while?
But she had spent five years in her last life playing her part, and some habits had carved themselves into her bones. His messages got instant replies. Whatever he asked, she answered. She never made him wait a second longer than necessary. Five years of that had become muscle memory.
Still, Wen Li didn’t agonize over it for long. She’d already made up her mind to live differently this time. Early or late, a reply was a reply.
Now let Ji Zongting get a good look. She, Wen Li, was no pushover he could handle at will.