After finishing a day’s work, Xi Tang washed herself clean and collapsed straight onto the bed like a corpse.

The rented room had no air conditioning, making it the same temperature inside as outside year-round. Now, during the coldest time of the year, when Xi Tang emerged from the tiny bathroom, she felt the cold hissing into the crevices of her bones. She quickly jumped onto the bed, wrapped herself in the blanket, and stuck her head out to blow-dry her hair.

For dinner, she had a cup of red bean and black rice porridge, plus an apple.

The daily workload was heavy and physically demanding, so of course she wasn’t full. But Xi Tang always remembered Zhong Qiao in their university dorm, dressed flamboyantly with red lips, hands on hips, adamantly telling her: “Enduring hunger is the first skill of being a female star! Even for a Z-list minor celebrity!”

Back then she didn’t care. She was in the midst of a passionate romance with Zhao Ping Jin. Every time after their dates, passing through the bustling street of food stalls behind the school gate, though Zhao Ping Jin didn’t eat those things, he always remembered to buy her plenty. While Zhong Qiao was on a diet, she would be happily gnawing on lamb skewers at ten o’clock at night.

Strangely, back then she never gained weight despite eating so much. During these years in Hengdian, despite strictly controlling herself, a small ring of fat had quietly begun to accumulate around her belly.

Now that she was struggling through life on her own, no one discussed with her the survival methods of female stars anymore.

If she could finish work before ten, she would usually exercise for half an hour. If she returned after ten, she was too tired and could only hurry to sleep. Therefore, to maintain her weight, she could only eat less.

Fortunately, she was often too tired, and once asleep, all was well.

The phone rang.

Xi Tang answered; it was the company boss’s secretary, asking her to come to the VIP building.

She politely declined with a couple of laughs and hung up.

Five minutes later, the phone rang again. This time it was the company president: “Xi Tang, how can you not be free? We have an important client who particularly enjoys your performances. Don’t be unreasonable.”

Xi Tang knew that the company kept people like her—who could never quite become famous—for free entertainment purposes, specifically to impress those nouveau riche who had suddenly struck it rich. They would take her out to nightclubs, all made up and shiny, show them a few photos of her in period costumes, and claim she was a famous actress in Hengdian. This would make those older men who had just entered the game of pursuing actresses drool. Eventually, there would naturally be girls in the industry willing to sell themselves, leading to arrangements of sponsorship and investment, and quickly a new production would emerge.

Xi Tang sighed with a dejected face as she got up to reapply makeup and change clothes.

She took a motorized tricycle to town and walked into the private room. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too noisy inside. Glancing around at several familiar and unfamiliar faces, she unexpectedly saw Zhao Ping Jin sitting on the sofa, still with that arrogant and somewhat indifferent face, with the balding company boss smiling beside him.

It seemed tonight wasn’t the usual entertainment venue gathering but appeared to be a legitimate business meeting. This kind of company executive-level entertainment usually didn’t involve someone like her. Xi Tang looked around and noticed that Wu Zhenzhen herself wasn’t present.

Even Ni Kai Lun, the head of the artist management department, was there. Seeing her walk-in still wrapped in her down jacket with an expressionless face, she immediately shot her a warning glance.

Xi Tang promptly took off her coat, revealing an off-shoulder white dress underneath. She instantly squeezed out a smile and bounced in cheerfully: “Boss, I’m sorry I’m late—”

She acted coquettishly while picking up a wine glass and penalized herself with a drink.

The boss seemed satisfied and then smiled: “Don’t crowd around me, tonight you should keep Zhao Chairman company.”

Xi Tang, having drunk a glass of wine, was pushed to Zhao Ping Jin’s side. She naturally had a sweet appearance, and when smiling, she was so sweet it could make one’s bones melt: “Chairman Zhao, let me toast you first—”

Unexpectedly, Zhao Ping Jin glanced at her and frowned imperceptibly.

Xi Tang quickly shifted slightly, sitting close to his side, holding her wine glass with an intimate manner, sweet voice, and flirtatious smile on her face, but in reality not daring to touch even his sleeve.

He hated it most when people he disliked touched him.

That night’s entertainment was like all such gatherings throughout history—painful and false.

Except for when Zhao Ping Jin said with a superficial smile: “Chairman Wang, I can’t drink much, I’m afraid I’ll dampen everyone’s spirits. I’ve heard Miss Huang has an excellent capacity for alcohol. Tonight, everyone should drink to their heart’s content, but for my share, I’ll have to trouble Miss Huang. What do you think?”

So that night, all of Zhao Ping Jin’s drinks were passed to Xi Tang.

Old Wang became even more playful when he heard this: “Wow, what an honor—”

He pointed to a row of girls in sheer clothing sitting on the sofa in the private room: “None of our beauties here catch Chairman Zhao’s eye. Xi Tang, make sure you perform well.”

Xi Tang quickly smiled and agreed: “Chairman Zhao thinks so highly of me, I’m so happy.”

While smiling, the corner of Xi Tang’s mouth twitched secretly. Since when did Zhao Ping Jin who once roamed the world adopt such a vulgar title? Back then in Beijing, when he had just started his business, the founding team crammed into his apartment outside the Third Ring Road in Haidian District. Shen Min was available 24 hours a day, coding according to Zhao Ping Jin’s creative impulses at any moment. The people around him—his childhood friend who handled sales, his Tsinghua undergraduate classmate who managed operations—all called him by his nickname. Later, the year after Xi Tang graduated, when Zhao Ping Jin had built his tech company to a considerable scale and finally interviewed and hired several overseas returnees, they would call him “boss” in English. Xi Tang followed him like a little tail, feeling almost no restraint, except occasionally when going out with those offspring of Beijing’s elite compounds for entertainment, the club managers would address him as “Young Master Zhao,” which was already considered presumptuous. People unfamiliar with him could only politely call him “Mr. Zhao.”

She had vaguely heard that his publicly known identity was that of a wealthy real estate businessman from Shanghai, now investing in the company’s next production, appointing Wu Zhenzhen as the female lead. The boss, seeing the deal was almost done, got excited after drinking and started calling his brother while patting his shoulder.

Zhao Ping Jin had changed too. Previously, he would lose his temper if unfamiliar people merely touched him; now he also began to exchange pleasantries with people in a perfunctory way.

Xi Tang didn’t talk much, just maintained her smile and dutifully drank for Zhao Ping Jin.

The boss probably thought he was a sucker for spending huge sums to promote a female star, and as they chatted, began discussing the prices of female stars in the industry. He even offered to introduce him to young-looking women with large breasts, his words becoming somewhat excessively vulgar.

In the darkness, Zhao Ping Jin slightly raised his face and silently smiled with contempt.

Xi Tang was secretly alarmed. People like him typically wouldn’t reveal their true identities. The boss had offended him, and he wouldn’t even know how he’d meet his end.

“Oh my, Chairman Wang, don’t just keep talking. It’s Mr. Zhao’s turn to toast you—” Xi Tang quickly stood up, interrupting the boss’s endless talk, and began pouring wine. Her right hand trembled slightly, spilling some. She used her left hand to grip her right wrist, steadying it, then filled both glasses.

It was a very small gesture.

Zhao Ping Jin glanced at it casually.

Xi Tang continued to pour two more glasses for the company president.

Ni Kai Lun seized the opportunity to say: “The company is launching two new talents this time…”

She knew how to do business.

Halfway through the drinking, when she was about half drunk, she got up to go to the restroom.

Ni Kai Lun followed her in and touched her back, her voice filled with familiar concern: “Are you alright?”

Xi Tang emptied the contents of her stomach: “I’m fine.”

Ni Kai Lun said: “This white-faced King of Hell, who knows when Zhenzhen hooked up with him.”

Xi Tang got up from the toilet and stood in front of the mirror, silently applying powder.

Ni Kai Lun continued: “Tonight Old Wang suddenly changed the venue for entertainment, and I was startled when I came over and saw him. He’s investing in the next production, but I won’t give you a single role in it. For Director Liu Fu’s new film, I’ll arrange for you to shoot nun scenes in Shanxi.”

Xi Tang was silent for a moment, then moved closer, nuzzled her face, and hugged her waist saying: “Thank you, mommy.”

“Stop joking. Zheng You Tong has invited you for dinner and a show, with his long-term reporters going to take photos,” said Ni Kai Lun.

Zheng You Tong was a popular young actor from another company. If he wanted to stir up rumors, countless girls would want to be associated with him.

Xi Tang remained silent.

Ni Kai Lun asked: “Are you agreeing or not?”

Xi Tang made up her mind: “I don’t want to.”

Only with Ni Kai Lun did she dare to speak her true feelings.

Ni Kai Lun’s eyes blazed with anger as she pushed her, making her stumble, and angrily scolded her in frustration: “What do you want? Squatting by walls every day to film those trash scenes for a few dozen yuan a day, when will you ever rise!”

Xi Tang shrank her neck.

Ni Kai Lun said: “Next week at the Starlight Theater Awards Ceremony, you’ll walk the red carpet with the ‘Palace Love’ crew. I talked until my lips were raw to squeeze you in.”

For the red carpet, apart from directors and main actors, the remaining one or two spots would likely cause fierce competition among the company’s participating actors, all for a bit more exposure. Xi Tang could only reluctantly agree.

Ni Kai Lun lowered her voice: “Think about it. Being stubborn won’t get you any benefits. I heard the Thirteenth Master wants to retire, and the company might split its shares. I might not be able to protect you anymore. Those debts, even if you work like this for ten years, you won’t be able to clear them.”

Xi Tang moved closer again, resting her head on her shoulder, hugging her shoulders, and closing her eyes dependently saying: “I know.”

Ni Kai Lun warned: “Stay as far away from the surname Zhao as possible.”

Xi Tang said softly: “I know.”

The two walked out arm in arm.

That night they drank until two in the morning. Zhao Ping Jin seemed determined to toast round after round. Xi Tang drank with him, her stomach churning with white and red alcohol mixed with bubbles pushing upward. She drank until her limbs were numb, her heart racing, her hands shaking, and her eyes red.

Finally, as everyone was leaving, Zhao Ping Jin still raised his glass: “Chairman Wang, to a pleasant cooperation.”

Old Wang, with a slurred tongue, stood up: “S-sure… of course!”

Xi Tang had to pick up her glass and pour the wine down, her throat burning like a tongue of fire.

Over there, Old Wang waved his hand and collapsed with a thud.

Ni Kai Lun immediately stood up, exchanged a few pleasantries, and called the manager to sign the bill.

Xi Tang rose unsteadily from the sofa. Although her limbs were somewhat numb, her consciousness was still clear. All these years, she had never allowed herself to get drunk again.

She took a few steps forward and suddenly stumbled, about to fall. Zhao Ping Jin, behind her, grabbed her hair with one hand.

Xi Tang felt a pain in her scalp as she was pulled up, her face forcibly turned in one direction.

Zhao Ping Jin looked at the face before him, a familiar yet strange face, big eyes, an upturned nose, pink and delicate lips, and watery enchanting eyes. He gripped her hair, gritting his teeth viciously: “What kind of madness possessed you to turn yourself into this ghost-like appearance?”

For a moment, Xi Tang thought he was angry.

But with her half-drunken yet clear gaze, she saw only disdain and mockery in his eyes.

Xi Tang smiled at him, about to reply, when Zhao Ping Jin suddenly released her.

Xi Tang fell onto the sofa, then straightened her hair and stood up, smiling as she walked forward.