Wen Tingli quietly lifted a corner of the curtain to look down below.

The vast open-air theater was packed to capacity.

Dong Qinfang told her that, from evening until now, a steady stream of customers had been pouring in — not only was the seventh-floor garden, where the competition was being held, packed, but every other floor was crowded with citizens who had come to watch the excitement.

The soda fountain on the first floor had completely sold out, and every department on every floor was swamped.

The Bailong Gang, in their wildest dreams, could never have imagined that despite stirring up such a storm in the papers, Xinxin, far from falling into a slump, had instead been treated to its liveliest night since opening, thanks to their own vigorous “performance” beforehand.

Wen Tingli’s attention was fixed firmly on the VIP section in the front row.

She desperately hoped to spot Lu Shicheng in the audience.

She wanted to thank him in person.

Ever since the Xinmin Evening News broke the story about Qiuhua Company and her, the situation had turned completely around.

Reporters had traced this Qiuhua Company back to Nanyang. The product she was collaborating on, “Beauty Sour Plum Candy,” was Qiuhua Company’s first major product for entering the Shanghai market. They attached great importance to its promotion, and had approached Wen Tingli precisely because of her recent surge in popularity.

To achieve the best advertising effect, Qiuhua Company had had Western-style dresses tailor-made for her in advance, and had specially invited an experienced Western photography team from America.

Then, unexpectedly, Wen Tingli’s father had suddenly passed away, and Wen Tingli, overcome with grief, had no heart to continue in the competition. Qiuhua Company, beyond demanding the breach-of-contract penalty stipulated in the contract, also cited the clause that “for every day the American photographers remain stranded in Shanghai, this company must pay an additional day’s expenses,” demanding that Wen Tingli pay tenfold compensation for that portion of the loss.

[Only now has Miss Wen realized just how many sinister clauses were hidden in that contract.]

[Alas, Miss Wen’s “circumstances are pitiable, her resolve admirable” — Miss Wen’s father had been receiving treatment at Cixin Hospital for months, and Miss Wen’s original reason for entering the “Flower of Shanghai” pageant was precisely to raise funds for her father’s medical expenses. It is reported that during her father’s illness, Miss Wen showed the utmost filial devotion at his bedside, a fact personally corroborated by Dr. Thompson of Cixin Hospital and a number of fellow patients… etc.]

Once these facts came to light one after another, those following the story shifted from suspicion of Wen Tingli to sympathy. Within half a day, the front of Xinxin’s management office was piled high with flowers and gifts sent by audience members to Wen Tingli, all of them fervently hoping Wen Tingli would take the championship in the competition, so as to spare her from Qiuhua Company’s malicious compensation claim.

Hence tonight’s unprecedented scene of excitement.

Meanwhile, Qiuhua Company refused to respond to the matter in any way, and this “arrogant” attitude drew a great deal of criticism from the public, which further amplified the incident’s impact.

Gao Xiaowen came backstage excitedly to see Wen Tingli, and upon entering, found her sitting deep in thought before the dressing mirror. She reassured her boldly, “Don’t worry, the Lu family has plenty of experience handling this sort of situation. However fierce things look in the papers, the public still hasn’t gotten to the bottom of Qiuhua’s real identity — it’ll all blow over soon enough.”

Even so, Wen Tingli still felt somewhat uneasy.

Unfortunately, when Qiuhua Company had sent over the contract the previous afternoon, they had only sent a manager from the business department — Lu Shicheng hadn’t shown up in person.

Wen Tingli had asked the manager about it, and he’d only said, “Young Master Lu has been very busy lately — this matter today was handled by Mr. Fang Da on his behalf.”

Wen Tingli had once thought of calling Kuang Zhilin’s residence, but ultimately gave up the idea, feeling it would be a bit presumptuous. So, right up until the moment she stepped on stage, she still hadn’t managed to see Lu Shicheng even once.

Suddenly, she heard the emcee outside announce, “Let’s welcome contestant number seventeen, Miss Wen Tingli.”

The whole venue erupted in thunderous applause, the wave of sound almost drowning out the person on stage.

Wen Tingli had no choice but to set aside the thoughts weighing on her mind and step up to the front of the stage.

“Miss Wen, you can do it!” “Don’t be afraid! We’re all rooting for you!”

Wen Tingli’s heart swelled with mixed emotions, and she bowed deeply to the audience below. The performance that followed didn’t disappoint — she delivered a routine even more brilliant than her preliminary round.

It was still comic opera, and this time she played “A Man Who Kept a Cat.” In the story, an old scholar who kept a cat had, as his greatest pastimes, reciting texts and scolding his cat. The cat, unhappy at being scolded, schemed up various ways to torment its master.

Constrained by the size of the stage, the “big cat” was, from start to finish, nothing more than a white fur ball prop pulled along by a hidden string in the old scholar’s hand — yet with just one person and one prop, Wen Tingli brought to vivid life not only a stuffy, pedantic old scholar, but also a petty, small-minded big cat.

The audience laughed until they doubled over — these were scenes that played out in every household, every day, but the closer to real life, the more it struck a chord in everyone’s hearts. What’s more, this “old scholar” on stage was in fact a young girl, and yet her every word and gesture matched an old codger down to a tee — the moment the audience realized this, they slapped their thighs in sheer admiration.

Huang Yuanshan, moved, remarked in the audience, “What a madwoman! The moment she steps under the spotlight, she can forget even who she is — who could not be moved by that kind of selfless focus? Wen Tingli was simply born to act. I knew she had this talent the very first time I saw her in a play at Xiude High School!”

By the curtain call, Wen Tingli’s face was streaked with tears.

Seeing this, the audience applauded even more fervently — this girl’s recent ordeal would have broken anyone, and yet her performance just now had been dazzling enough to make everyone in the venue forget all their troubles, if only for a moment.

Even those who had simply wandered in to see what the fuss was about applauded Wen Tingli wholeheartedly.

Wen Tingli left the stage amid thunderous applause. Dong Qinfang stepped forward to give her a great big hug. Needless to say, plenty of papers would spontaneously cover this performance the next day, and Xinxin’s buzz would carry on for quite some time.

In the awards segment that followed, Wen Tingli, living up to expectations, won the “Flower of Shanghai” championship.

That night, on the tree-lined avenue outside the Lu residence.

A Rolls-Royce sped forward, and the iron gates of the Lu residence slowly swung open on both sides.

Suddenly, a girl darted out from the shadow of the trees, calling toward the car, “Mr. Lu!”

But it wasn’t Lu Shicheng sitting inside — it was Fang Da.

He looked out toward the voice and recognized the girl as Wen Tingli. She wore a plain black satin qipao, a white flower pinned in her hair, her face noticeably thinner, her features all the more striking for it — but she was too thin, and stepping suddenly out of the tree’s shadow, she looked like nothing more than a wisp of a shadow herself.

Up close, he noticed that not only was there sweat on Wen Tingli’s forehead, but two small red bumps from mosquito bites had appeared on her cheeks.

By the looks of it, she had been waiting under that tree for quite some time.

“Miss Wen.”

Wen Tingli only realized, once she reached the car window, that Lu Shicheng wasn’t inside, and she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“Mr. Fang, hello.”

Fang Da hurried to push open the car door and get out.

“Miss Wen is here looking for Young Master Lu? How long have you been here?”

“I came right after the competition ended,” Wen Tingli said, her voice a little hoarse. “This whole affair — I owe a great deal to Mr. Lu’s help. My father’s funeral is tomorrow morning, and I wanted to thank Mr. Lu in person before then.”

“My condolences, Miss Wen.” Fang Da nodded sympathetically. “Very unfortunately, Young Master Lu has urgent matters to attend to tonight, and probably won’t be back until two or three in the morning. If Miss Wen doesn’t mind, you’re welcome to wait inside the residence.”

That was too late. For a Lu Shicheng who’d been busy all day, that would only be an imposition — besides, she still had to go back to keep vigil at the memorial.

“If there’s anything you’d like to say, I can relay it to Young Master Cheng for you.”

Wen Tingli solemnly held out a brocade box to Fang Da.

“Would you mind passing this gift along to Mr. Lu for me?” she explained. “This is tonight’s prize for winning ‘Flower of Shanghai’ — there’s only the one, embroidered by an elderly embroidery artisan from Qingpu in the late Qing era, quite exceptional craftsmanship. I hope Mr. Lu won’t find it too crude. Of course, the huge favor Mr. Lu did for me could never be repaid by such a small gift — I just—”

Fang Da hurriedly accepted the box. “Miss Wen worries too much. Mr. Lu would never find it crude.”

Wen Tingli, at a loss for what else to say, hesitated for a long moment before asking, “I don’t suppose Mr. Lu might have time to see me tomorrow? At least let me thank him to his face once.”

Fang Da smiled. “If it’s about the Qiuhua Company matter, Miss Wen needn’t worry too much. Young Master Lu did leave word — the Lu family has another candy company under its name that’s about to launch a new pear-juice candy drink, and to boost sales, they’re currently planning to find someone to advertise it. If Miss Wen doesn’t mind, perhaps she’d consider doing a full year’s advertisement for it free of charge — our company would be deeply honored.”

“Are these Mr. Lu’s exact words?”

“These are exactly what Mr. Lu instructed.”

Wen Tingli paused for a moment, then a brilliant smile suddenly bloomed across her face, and she nodded eagerly. “I’m willing! I couldn’t be more willing!”

She had never felt this light, this relieved, this grateful.

The favor Lu Shicheng had done for her had felt, to her, like an insurmountable mountain.

True, after so many dealings with him, she had come to understand Lu Shicheng’s character fairly well — he wouldn’t use this as leverage to demand anything of her, he probably wouldn’t even give it much thought. But he had, after all, extended a hand to her in her moment of crisis, and that left her grateful, yet also weighed down by a heavy stone in her heart.

Such a heavy debt of gratitude — who knew when she’d ever be able to repay it.

But she’d never expected he would ask for “payment” so quickly, and in such an open, dignified way that treated her as an equal.

She felt the weight lift off her shoulders almost instantly.

“I’m willing — never mind one year, I’d do two or three years of free advertising for your company.” She was so pleased she could barely get her words out straight. “Once I’ve finished with the funeral tomorrow, I can sign the contract with your company right away.”