Zhao Ping Jin responded casually, staring at the corner of her left eye for a long time before suddenly asking: “Why did you get plastic surgery?”

Xi Tang knew what he was looking at. After those days and nights of suffering through the surgery, as the bandages were removed layer by layer, she had long since become fearless of any gaze: “To look better on camera, of course.”

Zhao Ping Jin was noncommittal: “You were quite fine before.”

Xi Tang’s face remained cheerfully smiling: “The doctor said opening the corner of my eye would make my features more three-dimensional.”

Zhao Ping Jin’s tone was quite disapproving: “You looked better before.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Zhao.” Xi Tang didn’t mind, smiling as if he were talking about someone else.

But Zhao Ping Jin hadn’t intended to let her off: “After plastic surgery, why are you still filming so many terrible shows?”

When discussing acting, Xi Tang showed sincerity: “Ah, don’t say that. The environment has been like this for the past couple of years. Whether entering or exiting a role, whether one looks deeply into it or just superficially, as long as the audience can be entertained, it’s a blessing.”

This attitude was flawless. Even Zhao Ping Jin found himself admiring this unfamiliar Huang Xi Tang.

She had changed too much—her personality, appearance, how she treated people—everything was different.

When he first saw her again in that chaotic film set in Hengdian, the feeling at that moment was extremely painful. Her voice, appearance, and smile seemed to still be hidden deep in his memory, yet it was as if she had suddenly become a different person. She had abandoned everything, even going so far as to change her face. He had loved her original appearance. Even after years of deliberate forgetting, he had almost forgotten what she originally looked like.

That was the appearance he had once loved so much. What right did she have to go under the knife? The thought alone made him angry.

Housekeeper Auntie Mei called from outside the living room: “Mr. Zhao?”

Zhao Ping Jin said to Huang Xi Tang: “Come out.”

In the living room, a steaming bowl of noodles was placed on the coffee table, with two sets of bowls and chopsticks.

The aroma of food wafted over. Xi Tang sniffed and narrowed her eyes, unable to help swallowing silently.

Zhao Ping Jin pushed the bowl and chopsticks in front of her: “Help yourself.”

Xi Tang said conscientiously: “I won’t eat.”

Zhao Ping Jin raised his eyes: “Are you hungry?”

Xi Tang nodded instinctively, then paused, and then firmly shook her head.

Female celebrities rarely even drink water after 4 PM. Everyone endured this way.

Zhao Ping Jin gave her a cold look: “Eat or don’t eat, it’s up to you.”

Xi Tang looked at him—fine noodles, rich broth, two golden fried eggs. Zhao Ping Jin elegantly drank half a bowl of soup in one go.

She was about to leave.

“Stop.” Zhao Ping Jin picked up the noodles with his chopsticks, saying leisurely: “Watch me eat.”

The aroma was overwhelming. Xi Tang felt like killing someone.

Zhao Ping Jin took his bowl, broke open the eggs, left the bright green vegetable leaves for her, then ladled half a bowl of noodles and placed it in front of her.

Xi Tang asked softly: “Is it past midnight now?”

Zhao Ping Jin checked his watch and nodded.

Xi Tang took a spoon, stirred the soup, and took a small sip. The chicken broth was delicious to the extreme. She hypnotized herself: “This counts for tomorrow’s portion.”

Zhao Ping Jin glanced at her indifferently: “Don’t torture yourself. You don’t have that kind of constitution.”

Xi Tang lowered her head and ate a few strands of noodles in small bites. Suddenly she looked up at him: “Zhao Ping Jin, are you married?”

Zhao Ping Jin was wiping his hands with a handkerchief from the porcelain dish. Hearing this, his hand paused. His eyes, dark as deep pools, revealed no emotion: “Why are you asking this?”

Xi Tang’s voice was particularly calm: “Your family used to be very eager for you to get married.”

Zhao Ping Jin threw the handkerchief on the table, stood up, and pointed at her bowl. With a cold, expressionless face, he said: “Finish it. If you don’t finish it, I’ll deduct ten thousand yuan from you this month.”

The next day, Zhao Ping Jin went out on business.

Xi Tang stayed at home alone.

She had taken two days off from the film crew. Fortunately, she wasn’t the lead actor, so the production coordinator had rescheduled her filming time. Early in the morning, she was in the second-floor living room memorizing her lines.

Near noon, housekeeper Auntie Mei came in: “Miss Xi Tang, someone is looking for you at the door.”

Her voice sounded a bit excited.

The house driver followed the housekeeper, muttering: “Mr. Zhao isn’t home. No one is allowed in.”

The housekeeper proudly reported to Xi Tang: “It’s Wu Zhen Zhen, the big star. I’ve seen her shows.”

Wu Zhen Zhen had come to the door.

Xi Tang went downstairs and saw her in high-end fashion, removing her sunglasses. Her makeup and hairstyle were immaculate—no wonder the housekeeper recognized her at a glance.

Wu Zhen Zhen saw her bald head and her eyes widened. Ignoring everything else, she laughed first: “My goodness, you went through with it.”

Xi Tang smiled embarrassedly: “Zhen Zhen.”

Wu Zhen Zhen looked around: “Is Mr. Zhao here? I know he’s in Shanghai. Someone saw his car at the Grand Hyatt Jin Mao last night.”

Xi Tang said: “He went out.”

It was awkward for the two to just stand there, so Xi Tang thought for a moment and said: “Please, have a seat.”

Wu Zhen Zhen sat down. With just one sentence, Huang Xi Tang had already assumed the posture of the lady of the house. She finally came to her senses and said a bit sourly: “I came just to see things. You’ve been with the company for over two years, and I completely misjudged you.”

Xi Tang had no way to defend herself. Wu Zhen Zhen thought she had struck good fortune, but in reality, she was just being manipulated. She had gone through this before. Being with people like them was just living in an illusion, unaware that you’re merely a guest in a dream.

Zhao Ping Jin’s methods with women were simple and brutal. He didn’t spend any effort, but they were effective. The illusory vanity of fine clothes and jewels, the self-delusion of being favored and cared for—only when the day came that he turned his back on you would you fall and be torn to pieces.

Wu Zhen Zhen said: “I heard the previous mistress of this house was Wu Mei Ci.”

Wu Mei Ci, an award-winning actress, is a great beauty.

“The golden house remains, while the beauties come and go.”

“You seem quite at peace with it.”

“Zhen Zhen, I learn from you.”

The two women looked at each other and couldn’t help but smile. With that smile, Wu Zhen Zhen was as beautiful as peach and plum blossoms. There was a reason she had been famous for so many years.

Wu Zhen Zhen was a bit surprised: “The company has mentioned you more these days. Looking through old materials, I didn’t realize that you were in ‘Orange Youth.'”

Xi Tang smiled embarrassedly: “That’s ancient history.”

“When the film won awards, I was still a junior in college. The film wasn’t released domestically, right? But I have some impression. It was very highly regarded in the industry.”

“I don’t deserve such praise.”

Wu Zhen Zhen asked curiously: “Why didn’t you continue making films afterward?”

Xi Tang paused for a second, then answered lightly: “Something happened.”

Wu Zhen Zhen was an old hand in the industry and didn’t press further. She just looked around the house and said with good intentions: “If you have any resources, you should be selective about scripts. You’re actually—very suitable for acting.”

Xi Tang simply answered: “I do enjoy acting quite a bit.”

Wu Zhen Zhen took in the luxurious furnishings of the house without showing any reaction: “What’s Zhao Ping Jin’s background after all? Is he from Beijing or Shanghai?”

Xi Tang shook her head: “I’m not very clear either.”

Xi Tang sighed inwardly. Wu Zhen Zhen had at least had a relationship with him, yet she had no idea about his identity. Indeed, Zhao Ping Jin’s layers of connections and protected identity were complex. How could ordinary people easily see through it?

Suddenly, there was the sound of a car in the garden. While they were chatting, they heard the driver greet loudly: “Teacher Zhou, you’re here!”

Wu Zhen Zhen looked out the window: “Who’s that?”

A middle-aged woman wearing a light-colored suit with a Hermès silk scarf, her hair styled in a fixed wave pattern, walked toward the house with her head held high.

Xi Tang jumped up like a startled bird: “Zhao Ping Jin’s mother.”

Wu Zhen Zhen said with a bit of excitement: “Really?”

She was an expert at networking in the circle. Xi Tang couldn’t care about that now. She grabbed her and said: “Don’t tell her there’s someone else here.”