All the city’s lights had been extinguished by a heavy rain. Overhead, the sky was pitch black, and the wind and rain seemed to hide knives within them.

Qiao Qi’s eyesight wasn’t good, and once the sky darkened she could see even less. The narrow alley ahead was pitch black. She was just about to take out her phone to turn on the flashlight when she suddenly heard overlapping footsteps behind her.

More than one person.

Someone let out a lewd whistle.

Qiao Qi’s body stiffened. Goosebumps instantly rose across her skin, her hands and feet went numb and weak, and her ears buzzed.

“Wow, single lady?” The tone was oily and full of ill intent.

Qiao Qi swallowed, pretending she hadn’t heard anything. She steeled herself and kept walking forward, only to discover after a few steps that two more men were standing at the mouth of the alley ahead.

It was over.

The chastity she’d guarded for twenty years was about to be lost in this unfamiliar foreign land.

She should have known better than to go through all this trouble chasing groundless rumors abroad.

Now look at this.

She’d lost both ways.

The rain overhead grew heavier. Qiao Qi’s hands and feet had gone numb with cold. She wore a black baseball cap and a black mask covered her face; beneath the brim, her eyes stared fixedly at the two men not far off. Suddenly her vision went dark—she couldn’t see anything at all.

Once a person is deprived of sight, hearing and touch become infinitely amplified.

Qiao Qi felt herself shoved against a rough wall, the thin T-shirt on her back scraping open, a sharp pain at her shoulder.

Breath reeking of fish and tobacco washed over her face. Qiao Qi frowned and turned her head away. The man’s large hand slid down from her neck, and her heart sank inch by inch—

“Hey?”

“Are you bullying the girl?”

The newcomer’s voice was casual, but the contempt and mockery laced through his words were blatant.

Almost at the same moment, the weight pressing down on her vanished.

Qiao Qi looked up. Through the blur she could only make out a man, also wearing a baseball cap.

He wasn’t close. Qiao Qi couldn’t see his face clearly—only, faintly, the high bridge of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw beneath the cap’s brim.

He held a black umbrella in one hand, watching silently in her direction.

Lightning suddenly split the sky. White light cut across the man’s face, illuminating the almost-smile at the corner of his lips.

Thunder followed close behind—a rumble at her ear—and Qiao Qi’s eyes snapped open.

—Awake.

The curtains in the room were open; the interior was bathed in warm red light. Qiao Qi stiffly turned her neck to look out the window.

The sky looked like spilled jam, a red-orange gradient, the sun half sunk.

Evening.

She blinked, dazed for a few seconds. Her phone alarm was still going. Once her muscles gradually relaxed, she raised a hand to wipe away the glistening sweat on her forehead, then picked up her phone and saw the alarm label: 7:30 PM, Tianyi Building 706, Director Zhou.

This was the director she was meeting tonight—also the assistant director of the shampoo commercial she’d shot a few days ago. At the time she hadn’t noticed any interest from him, but after the shoot the two of them had run into each other outside the restroom, and he’d asked if she was interested in shooting a web drama.

Of course she was.

Commercial or web drama, as long as it paid, she’d shoot it.

After all, she was just an eighteenth-tier newcomer who hadn’t even fully set foot in the entertainment industry—she had no right to be picky.

Before heading out, Qiao Qi had meant to search for Director Zhou’s past work, but a message suddenly popped up from her pinned contact on WeChat.

Liangou: ?

Liangou: Really mad at me?

Liangou: Talk to me?

Qiao Qi’s expression stayed cool on the surface, but seeing the note she’d saved him under, a smile slowly rose in her eyes. Her fingers moved.

Qi: No time.

Liangou: So busy doing what?

Qi: Making big money.

Liangou: ?

Qi: Going to keep a little brother as my kept man.

Liangou: ……

Liangou: Don’t be like that.

The phone screen glowed clear and bright, the two characters drifting lightly past her eyes as the last red light of the setting sun fell against the shell of her ear.

Her fair, delicate skin flushed, silently, to an almost transparent red.

Her lips curved up slightly. She didn’t reply.

—

Tianyi Building wasn’t in the city center, but the decor was impressively grand. There were no idle loiterers nearby, no stalking fan-paparazzi to be seen—every parking spot out front held a car worth seven figures or more.

Traffic was a little heavy on the way. By the time Qiao Qi got out of the taxi, she had no time to look around before hurrying into the lobby. The moment she stepped in, she spotted a few familiar faces.

Possibly just because those faces all came from the same hospital.

They were likely all people from the newcomer circle—she might have seen them at commercial shoots before, but neither side could remember the other’s name.

Qiao Qi herself had no habit of catching up with acquaintances, so she headed straight for the elevators.

Quite a few people were waiting there. The mirrored glass reflected each of them—everyone dressed brightly, makeup impeccable.

They were all people who’d just barely set one foot into the entertainment industry, come to this hotel rumored to serve only industry insiders, for one purpose: to break into the circle successfully.

Some landed roles on merit and rode that momentum straight into the third tier.

Some landed people on merit, and thrived in the circle from then on.

Since everyone here was a competitor, mutual sizing-up and covert comparison were inevitable.

Qiao Qi had originally dressed similarly to the others—a couture dress and stiletto heels—but right before leaving she’d gotten a message from Director Zhou saying the scene they wanted to test required a qipao.

Fortunately, from her past work shooting print ads and commercials across a wide range of styles, she didn’t lack for any kind of outfit.

Now she was wrapped in silky fabric, the buttons at her chest extending to an inch below the collar. The collar stood up against her slender, fair neck, where a small red mole sat at the side.

The mole’s placement was subtle enough to set imaginations running without a word said.

A man nearby glanced sideways, his gaze lingering on her neck for a few seconds before trailing down, lingering and reluctant.

Her waist was slender enough to encircle with two hands; two palm-widths down, the slit flared open suddenly. A draft through the hall revealed glimpses of long legs.

The sight was genuinely eye-catching. The man exchanged a meaningful glance with his companion without a word, and the companion’s eyes rose with a leering smile. He was just about to step toward Qiao Qi’s side when the elevator suddenly went “ding—” and opened.

Everyone glanced over reflexively. The next second, they all froze.

Qiao Qi had been looking down at her phone. Sensing something off, she looked up—and found herself locked eye to eye with someone in the elevator.

He stood alone in the elevator, dressed nothing like formal wear—black T-shirt, casual pants—his posture anything but refined, leaning lazily against the corner, altogether loose and relaxed.

But none of that diminished his outstanding presence in the slightest.

Especially those peach-blossom eyes that always seemed to hold a careless smile—even a light glance from him felt like it was saying something worth pondering.

It was Liang Yan.

The young master of the powerful, influential Liang family of Pingcheng.

Also a young actor in the entertainment industry with both popularity and genuine talent.

Last year, Liang Yan had received double nominations for Best Actor and Best New Actor at the Golden Flame Awards for the documentary-style film Legend. Though he’d ultimately missed out on Best Actor, everyone knew this seemingly spoiled young master had an undeniably bright future ahead.

Running into Liang Yan here was a genuine surprise to Qiao Qi—and clearly to everyone else nearby, who all sucked in a breath.

“Young Master Liang, hello!”

“Teacher Liang!”

“Holy—! He’s a thousand times more handsome in person than on screen!”

Liang Yan had also been on his phone, thumb idly scrolling, brows lightly knit as if waiting for a reply. Hearing the excited greetings, he lazily lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

Everyone rushed to crowd in, each hoping to stand beside Liang Yan, only to hear him say the next second: “Excuse me, I’m getting off here.”

Everyone: “……”

All that excitement, wasted.

Disappointed inside, but outwardly they acted as though stars were gathering around him, tacitly clearing a path.

The elevator wasn’t small, but clearing an entire path was, admittedly, a bit much.

Still, Young Master Liang himself walked through as though it were perfectly natural. As he passed Qiao Qi, the two brushed shoulders. Qiao Qi kept her eyes forward, about to step into the elevator, when the small bag slung over her forearm was suddenly caught by someone.

She startled, turned around.

Liang Yan had hooked one finger through the chain of her bag. His peach-blossom eyes lifted slightly as he tossed off, lightly: “The clasp’s open.”

—

The elevator was strangely quiet. Everyone’s expression stayed neutral, though each harbored their own thoughts.

Qiao Qi glanced at the women behind her through the mirrored elevator wall. On the surface they remained composed, but their eyes practically bled envy.

So what if Liang Yan said a sentence to her.

Was it really that big a deal.

She withdrew her gaze, unimpressed. The elevator reached the seventh floor, the doors chimed open, and the moment Qiao Qi stepped out and turned, snide chatter immediately broke out behind her in the elevator.

“Tch. Such an act.”

“Right, who knows how pleased she actually is inside.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, dressed that provocatively and who knows who she’s really here to see.”

The doors slowly began to close, and the gossip grew even more brazen.

“Isn’t she the one who shot that commercial with you last time—ah!!”

The conversation cut off abruptly. A scream rang out.

Everyone stared, stunned, at the high heel wedged between the closing doors.

It was Qiao Qi.

With one high kick, she’d jammed her heel between the two elevator doors. The infrared sensor detected the obstruction and the doors sprang open again instantly.

Qiao Qi unhurriedly withdrew her long leg, even smoothing her skirt hem lightly, before lifting her eyes to the woman inside.

“Zhou Suiyu, was it.” Qiao Qi’s red lips parted lightly. “If you’d shown this much bite last time, that commercial spot wouldn’t have slipped through your fingers into mine.”

“You!” Zhou Suiyu’s face changed drastically.

Qiao Qi didn’t bother with her further and turned to leave.

The woman beside Zhou Suiyu offered her a way to save face. “Don’t stoop to her level—testing for the role matters more. There’ll be plenty of chances to deal with her later.”

Zhou Suiyu gritted her teeth. “That’s right! Qiao Qi! Don’t you dare let me get the chance to deal with you!”

—

Qiao Qi didn’t know much about Director Zhou. How little, exactly?

She didn’t even know the man’s full name.

As for the role she was here to test for today, she knew even less.

She’d dared to come because the director who’d shot the commercial hadn’t been bad, and this Director Zhou had made it to assistant director, so he couldn’t be too much worse—right?

Yet the moment she pushed open the door to 706, she froze on the spot.

The room was thick with people, smoke choking the air—several men slumped in their chairs like a crime scene from a drug bust.

Qiao Qi almost thought she’d walked into the wrong room and even stepped back out to double-check the room number.

“Qiao Qi, right?” Someone rose from the haze of smoke, waving her in. “Don’t bother checking, this is the place.”

Qiao Qi squinted, barely recognizing the man as the Director Zhou who’d invited her.

“Ha! We’re all just a bunch of old smokers here. We were just talking shop and got carried away.” Director Zhou added.

That carried away?

Talking about adult scenes, was it?

Qiao Qi surveyed the seating without a hint of expression, and before anyone could invite her, she took the seat nearest the door on her own.

But clearly, the old hands knew their tricks better.

Within ten short minutes, Qiao Qi had already been plied with wine under one pretext after another.

She had naturally pale, cool-toned skin; once touched by alcohol, it took on a flush like the last afterglow of a sun sinking into a river, two clouds of crimson blooming naturally across her cheeks.

With her poor eyesight making her squint slightly, every man in the room found himself unable to look away.

It was at that moment Qiao Qi finally realized she’d walked straight into a Feast at Hongmen.

The web drama might well be real.

But how she was meant to secure it was another matter entirely.

“Qiao Qi, right?” A man beside her, apparently a producer, used the chance to speak and leaned in closer. His face was a mess of coarse flesh, his eyes squeezed into slits, and as he spoke he reached to touch her hand.

Qiao Qi’s reaction was instant—she leaned back half an inch, her chair scraping back with her, then abruptly stood.

The atmosphere in the room stiffened for a beat.

Director Zhou’s face soured. “What’s wrong?”

Qiao Qi took a deep breath, smiled. “Sorry, I think I need to use the restroom.”

The producer beside her laughed, filled a glass of red wine to the brim, and set it down heavily in front of her.

The motion was rough enough to slosh liquid over the rim, trickling across the table and dripping to the floor.

Red liquid bloomed by Qiao Qi’s feet.

The producer said, deliberately, “When we come out to eat together, there are rules to follow. If you want to be excused, you’d better drink your fill first.”

The implication wasn’t subtle at all. The men in the room laughed along, chiming in: “That’s right, that’s right, what you’ve had so far isn’t nearly enough.”

Meaning: no drink, no leaving.

Qiao Qi’s expression turned cold. She looked at Director Zhou. “Director Zhou, didn’t we agree—”

“Agree to what!” The producer slammed the table and rose, swaying. He picked up the full glass of wine and, without a word, dumped it straight at Qiao Qi’s chest.

She had no time to dodge. Her front was instantly soaked.

The wet fabric clung tight to her body, the outline of her chest all the more pronounced.

Qiao Qi’s breath caught; she nearly cursed aloud.

The producer, oblivious, hastily pulled out tissues and reached to dab at her chest. Qiao Qi’s temper flared. She knocked his hand away. “Enough!”

The producer, already fairly drunk, stumbled off balance from her shove, his hands slamming onto the table and knocking over a wine glass.

The glass shattered on the floor.

“Crack—”

A crisp sound.

At that exact moment, the door was suddenly pushed open.

Everyone turned. Someone shouted, unsure who: “Y-Young Master Liang?!”

Him again.

Qiao Qi took the chance to step back, one hand covering her chest, and turned to look at Liang Yan too.

Liang Yan’s gaze met hers for only a few brief seconds before sliding down to her chest, his brow lifting lightly.

Qiao Qi felt a flush of embarrassment and indignation at his unmistakable, unspoken reaction—but she knew the situation was against her, and that Liang Yan might be able to help her out of it.

So she pressed her teeth lightly against her lip and lifted her eyes to look straight at him.

A pair of dark eyes, unguarded, full of grievance and plea.

But the next second, Qiao Qi watched Liang Yan’s gaze slide casually away, and heard him say: “Sorry, wrong room.”

Author’s Note: Qiao Qi: Sorry, switching male leads now. See you tomorrow night at eight.