The next morning, at dawn.
Su Qianqian took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the artist's lounge.
The lounge was chilled by strong air conditioning, carrying the scent of an expensive fragrance.
Lin Shu sat before a large vanity mirror, eyes closed as the makeup artist touched up her look.
She wore a silver-gray silk slip dress, its delicate straps accentuating her snow-white shoulders and delicate collarbones.
The hem stopped mid-thigh, revealing a pair of slender, perfectly proportioned legs casually crossed at the ankles. On her feet were diamond-studded stiletto sandals.
Gorgeous, bold—like a red rose in full bloom.
Su Qianqian did her best to minimize her presence.
Oversized black-framed glasses perched on her delicate nose, obscuring nearly half her face.
The lenses were plain, blurring the lively, doe-like shimmer of her almond-shaped eyes.
A dark-toned tinted moisturizer had been meticulously applied to her face and exposed neck, dulling her naturally radiant complexion into a muted, matte finish—several shades darker than average.
On her feet were plain white canvas sneakers.
Everything about her screamed "small-town girl trying too hard to blend into the city," still carrying an air of awkward provincialism.
Her voice was timid, almost hesitant: "Sister Shu, I’m Su Qianqian, Brother Wang’s new assistant."
Hearing that sweet, melodious voice, Lin Shu paused, then lifted her eyelids to glance at Su Qianqian through the mirror.
The bulky glasses, dull complexion, frumpy outfit, and the way she hunched as if trying to disappear into the floor—
"Tch." Lin Shu let out a derisive scoff, her disdain unmistakable. What a waste of such a lovely voice.
"You look like you’d be all thumbs."
Clearly, she had no high standards for an assistant’s appearance—or rather, one this plain, even bordering on unattractive, suited her just fine.
Lin Shu’s gaze quickly shifted away, settling on her freshly manicured crystal nails, as if Su Qianqian’s presence mattered less than the tips of her fingers.
Su Qianqian exhaled inwardly.
Good. No attention drawn.
After a moment, Lin Shu spoke again, still not looking at her, addressing the air instead:
"Coffee. No sugar, half a portion of milk. The temperature should be just right—not too hot, not too cold."
"Right away, Sister Shu," Su Qianqian responded promptly.
---
Three days later, afternoon on set, VIP lounge.
Gu Chengyu lounged in a spacious sofa, exuding effortless ease.
He wore a dark gray shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms and a luxury watch.
The top two buttons of his collar were undone, lending him a roguish air.
Between his long fingers, he flipped through a production progress report.
This big-budget period drama had Gu Corporation’s investment, so it was only natural for the heir of the conglomerate to personally inspect its progress.
But that was just an excuse—this was merely a drop in the bucket for the Gu family’s portfolio.
Gu Chengyu’s real purpose was the bet he’d made a week ago.
Lin Shu had been ignoring his overtures, subtle and otherwise, so he’d decided to pay her a visit himself.
Speak of the devil.
Lin Shu swept into the room in an elaborate costume, her makeup flawless, her profile stunning under the lights.
Yet her posture was straighter than usual, her lips pressed into a tight line, radiating aloofness and pride.
Facing Gu Chengyu, her gaze settled on him with measured respect, her voice steady and cool, betraying nothing:
"Young Master Gu, is there anything in the progress report that requires adjustment?"
She deliberately used "Young Master Gu," drawing a clear boundary.
Gu Chengyu lifted his eyes from the report, his deep, phoenix-like gaze sweeping over her, a flicker of amusement passing through them.
He loved this act of hers—the forced composure, the barely concealed panic in her eyes.
Tilting the report in his hand, he locked onto Lin Shu’s striking yet tense face, his voice laced with lazy provocation:
"Progress is on track. As always, Miss Lin’s performance is exceptional."
"I wonder if you’d be interested in Gu Corporation’s next project as well..."
The open collar of his gray shirt revealed the sharp line of his Adam’s apple.
His long legs were crossed, the effortless dominance of a man used to power radiating from him.
He studied her like a collector admiring a golden canary putting on airs.
Lin Shu stiffened imperceptibly.
He called her "Miss Lin"—distant, mocking.
The scrutiny and amusement in those phoenix eyes pricked at her heart, leaving it sore and swollen.
Suppressing the turmoil inside, she clenched her fists but forced a flawless smile.
"You flatter me, Young Master Gu."
Her voice was crisp, deliberately emphasizing the title as she met his gaze head-on.
"A new project depends on whether the role suits me and if the script is compelling."
"Gu Corporation’s standards are high. My meager acting skills would hardly meet your expectations—I wouldn’t dare presume."
Her words were barbed, self-deprecating yet firm in drawing the line.
Beneath the surface of those beautiful eyes lay suppressed resentment, unwillingness, and defiance.
Gu Chengyu chuckled lowly, tossing the report onto the side table with a soft thud.
Leaning forward slightly, he teased:
"Meager acting skills?"
His lips curled in a smirk as his gaze roamed freely over her face—from her smooth forehead to her tightly pressed lips, finally lingering on her faintly trembling lashes.
"You’re too modest, Miss Lin."
"At the very least… you’ve mastered the art of playing hard to get. Even I was fooled."
His tone was light, every word laced with humiliation, striking deep into Lin Shu’s heart.
That phrase—"playing hard to get"—shattered any lingering hope she might’ve harbored.
The color drained from Lin Shu’s face. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out:
"I wasn’t acting!"
Her voice rose, trembling with barely contained distress:
"Young Master Gu, the termination agreement was signed, the compensation paid—we’re settled!"
