The door of the VIP lounge closed softly behind Gu Chengyu as he strode forward, ready to leave.
The hallway wasn’t particularly wide, with prop boxes stacked against the walls and staff hurrying past.
His gaze swept casually over the scene but abruptly stilled when it landed on a relatively quiet corner.
Leaning against the wall was a cheap folding stool, and sitting on it was a girl in a faded plaid shirt and washed-out jeans.
Her head was bowed, her hair loosely tied back, a few stray strands falling to obscure part of her face.
A pair of bulky black-framed glasses sat on her nose, nearly covering the upper half of her features.
The visible lower half of her face was dull in complexion, save for her soft, rosy lips.
She looked plain and unremarkable.
What caught Gu Chengyu’s attention was her posture.
She was holding a thick script, reading with intense focus.
Her small frame leaned slightly forward, delicate fingers turning a page.
There was something stubbornly earnest in her concentration.
The sunlight traced the graceful curve of her back, a stark contrast to her otherwise unassuming appearance.
Gu Chengyu paused mid-step.
This image…
For some reason, it reminded him of the florist girl he’d glimpsed that day—the one who’d seemed like a fairy who’d stumbled into the mortal world.
Though this girl in front of him was dowdy and dull-skinned, worlds apart from that fleeting moment of enchantment.
He almost laughed at himself. Even his instincts could be wrong sometimes.
Yet, without thinking, his steps shifted direction, carrying him toward that quiet little corner.
Su Qianqian was lost in the world of the script.
The character of Shu-jie was a strong female lead—innocent and kind at first, then tempered by hardship into resilience.
It was the kind of unyielding spirit she secretly admired.
She was so absorbed that she barely registered her surroundings.
Then a shadow fell across the page, blocking the light.
Instinctively, she looked up.
Behind those black-framed glasses, her clear, dewy almond eyes met Gu Chengyu’s gaze.
Even blurred by the lenses, they held a quiet brilliance that momentarily stole his breath.
For Su Qianqian, seeing the so-called "favorite of fate" in person was far more overwhelming than any image could capture.
He was tall, standing against the light, his shadow looming over her like an insurmountable peak.
His face wore an idle smile as he looked down at her, his presence effortlessly commanding.
Her heart skipped a beat, then raced wildly.
She’d known that staying near Lin Shu might increase her chances of running into him.
But today, him walking right up to her—that was entirely unexpected.
Especially when she was deliberately hiding her true self like this.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the script as she suppressed the turmoil inside.
She kept her head tilted up, forcing her eyes to remain calm, her voice soft with feigned timidity and confusion.
"Mr. Gu… is there something you need?"
Her voice was delicate and sweet, the kind that could melt into one’s bones.
Gu Chengyu sighed inwardly. None of the women who fawned over him could match the natural allure of that tone.
A shame, really.
His eyes skimmed over her face.
Tsk. Not particularly pretty—far from the bold, striking beauties he usually favored.
But those eyes… unexpectedly clear.
Even if the glasses obscured them somewhat.
He folded his arms, leaning down slightly, closing the distance between them.
The weight of his presence grew even more overwhelming.
His tone was lazy, laced with the teasing amusement one might use on a small animal, his gaze lingering on the script in her hands. "You're Lin Shu's assistant? This is her character's script."
He glanced at the name tag on her chest. "Su Qianqian?"
He drew out her name, the syllables lingering with an inexplicable magnetism.
Gu Chengyu tilted his chin toward the script, the smirk at the corner of his lips deepening. "Reading so intently? What, you want to be a star too?"
His voice carried the natural arrogance of someone who held power, laced with a mocking undertone that seemed to say, As if you could.
Beneath the thick layer of foundation, Su Qianqian's cheeks warmed—not from shyness, but from the defiance stirred by his blatant taunt.
She lowered her lashes, avoiding his gaze, letting her eyes settle on the name of the female lead in the script.
She didn’t stammer out a denial, nor did she meekly agree.
Instead, she simply shook her head, her voice still soft but edged with quiet conviction:
"No. I just think this character is very well-written."
Her slender fingers brushed lightly over the script, her touch gentle. "She’s strong and brave—the kind of person I admire. That’s why I wanted to read more."
Her answer caught Gu Chengyu off guard.
No flattery, no flustered excuses, no wounded pride.
Just a simple, earnest statement about a fictional character she admired.
Gu Chengyu studied her face, half-hidden behind glasses and stray strands of hair.
There was something stubborn in her docility, like the Siamese kitten he’d kept as a boy.
"Admire?"
He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. "Big dreams for a little assistant. Fine, go ahead and admire then."
Straightening, he stepped back, the oppressive weight of his presence easing slightly.
Gu Chengyu gave the plain, peculiar assistant one last glance, finding her unremarkable.
And yet, there was something—just a flicker—he couldn’t quite place.
No matter. She wasn’t his type anyway. A few taunts were enough.
Without another look, he turned and walked toward the set’s exit.
Only when Gu Chengyu was gone did Su Qianqian finally exhale deeply.
Behind her glasses, the timidity and uncertainty in her clear almond eyes faded.
She steadied the ripples in her heart, frowning in thought: Gu Chengyu—just as the system’s intel described. Arrogant, domineering, treating everyone else as beneath him.
When his eyes had locked onto her, it felt like they could pierce through her disguise, stirring an instinctive sense of danger.
And his boundaries with women? Practically nonexistent.
How can I stand out? How can I leave an impression on him?
Then she looked down again at the script in her hands, her fingers tracing the heroine’s name.
I’m not good enough?
Then who is? Lin Shu?
She remembered yesterday afternoon—Lin Shu, scolded by the director for her wooden acting, then taking it out on her in the dressing room, hurling scalding coffee at her. Even now, her shoulder burned red, aching faintly.
Her grip tightened on the script.
The road ahead is long.
She wanted to take everything from Lin Shu.
And she wanted him—Gu Chengyu—to willingly lay it all at her feet.
