Huang Yuanshan listened to Wen Tingli’s account with her heart pounding, letting out low gasps from time to time. By the end, she pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her forehead and said through gritted teeth: “That petty, small-minded Liu Menglin! Just you wait!”

She then patted her own chest in relief. “Good thing you played it cool and kept Ding Hengjun in check with an empty-city bluff. Now the whole thing hinges on Zhuang Xiaosheng—how did it go, did he agree to see you?”

Wen Tingli shook her head. “Still working on it. Zhenzhen won’t be back from Tianjin until midnight, but I’ve already gotten in touch with Zhuang Xiaosheng’s niece, Zhuang Xiaolan. She’s friends with Sister Yaqiao, so I’ll go see if she can help me get somewhere.”

Since their plans had changed, Huang Yuanshan had no choice but to switch her ticket to Hangzhou from tomorrow morning to tomorrow evening, while also preparing for tomorrow’s press conference.

Wen Tingli, meanwhile, continued working on the Zhuang Xiaosheng front. With Zhuang Xiaolan’s introduction, her calling card was finally successfully delivered into the Zhuang residence.

Confident, Wen Tingli drove to wait outside the Zhuang residence—and waited until past ten at night.

Suddenly she heard laughter and chatter from the entrance of the Zhuang residence. Wen Tingli quickly put on a smile and moved to greet them, only to run into a familiar face—Manager Liu from Golden Film’s [REDACTED].

Manager Liu handled most of Golden Film’s script adaptation work. He’d also been present the day before during her argument with Liu Menglin.

Manager Liu’s shock was clearly no less than her own. “Miss Wen? Are you also here to visit Zhuang Xiaosheng?”

Wen Tingli’s eyes flickered, and she feigned surprise with a smile: “Zhuang Xiaosheng lives here too? I’m here to see Zhuang Xiaolan.”

Manager Liu didn’t seem to suspect anything—or perhaps it simply never occurred to him that within just a single day of leaving Golden Film, Wen Tingli was already busy laying the groundwork for her own new company.

His thoughts were clearly still preoccupied with Wen Tingli’s departure. He’d remained completely silent throughout the confrontation the day before, but today he offered half-sincere advice: “Miss Wen, Boss Liu may have a temper, but he’s not truly bad at heart. Don’t take those angry words too seriously. You were made a star entirely by Golden Film—what could you possibly do after leaving the company? Stop being stubborn. Before things escalate further, go back and apologize to Boss Liu. We’ll all help smooth things over, and this will all blow over.”

Wen Tingli deliberately waited until he’d left before approaching, only to be told by the gatekeeper: “Mr. Zhuang doesn’t receive guests after ten o’clock. Miss Zhuang? Even Miss Zhuang can’t persuade the master otherwise. You’d best come back tomorrow.”

With no other options, Wen Tingli had no choice but to go find Yan Zhenzhen that very night to dig up information about the old dispute between Zhuang Xiaosheng and Yue Zhaoyun.

The next morning, Huang Yuanshan set off for the Lilac Grand Hotel to arrange the noon press conference, while Wen Tingli, taking the company’s newly hired clerk, Xiao Tian, went to visit Zhuang Xiaosheng—only to be shocked to find that Liu Menglin and Duan Miaoqing had already arrived ahead of her.

Most surprising of all, that notoriously standoffish Zhuang Xiaosheng personally walked them out, standing on the front steps and watching Liu and Duan get into their car before turning to go back inside.

Wen Tingli thought to herself—it seemed old Manager Liu must have gone straight to Liu Menglin last night to report their encounter, and Liu Menglin was probably itching to skin her alive right now, which would naturally lead him to come sabotage things. She greeted them as casually as ever: “Boss Liu, Sister Miaoqing, what a coincidence.”

Duan Miaoqing nodded to her, but Liu Menglin gave an odd, taunting laugh: “If it isn’t the famous Miss Wen Tingli. What’s this, has Huang Yuanshan got no films to give you, leaving you so idle this early in the morning?”

In his imagination, Wen Tingli should have been utterly regretful by now, even in a state of panic and disarray. Instead, after a full day and night of “defection,” she seemed just as vibrant and full of spirit as ever.

The more composed she appeared, the angrier Liu Menglin became.

“If you’re here for Twin Pearls, I’d advise you to give up that idea right now,” Liu Menglin said smugly. “Zhuang Xiaosheng is a devoted fan of Duan Miaoqing’s. The moment he heard she’d play the female lead in his novel, he agreed at once to sell the adaptation rights to Golden Film. Manager Liu will be over shortly to represent the company and sign the contract with Zhuang Xiaosheng. As for you, might as well go back where you came from.”

Wen Tingli stood unmoved, but Xiao Tian panicked immediately. Watching Liu Menglin’s car speed off in a cloud of dust, she said flusteredly: “Miss Wen, what do we do now?”

Wen Tingli stepped forward up the stairs: “Whatever needs doing, we’ll do.”

Since he’d accepted her card the night before, they weren’t turned away this time. Zhuang Xiaosheng received them in his study.

Before this morning, Wen Tingli had assumed he’d be a pedantic, stuffy old scholar in his fifties or sixties. Face to face, though, he turned out to be barely past thirty, with thick-lensed glasses perched on his nose, drooping eyelids, and a somewhat dazed expression, as if he’d never quite woken up.

Zhuang Xiaosheng paid no attention to the valuable gifts Wen Tingli had brought, instead craning his neck like an egret to peer down at her calling card. “Miss Wen—Ting—li. Now I remember. Several cinemas around town have your posters up outside—no wonder you looked a bit familiar.”

“You’ve seen my films?” Wen Tingli’s face lit up with delight. “I’m truly honored. Which one did you think was best?”

Zhuang Xiaosheng abruptly turned stone-faced. “Sorry, I haven’t seen a single one.”

He truly was as moody as rumored. Xiao Tian glanced worriedly at Wen Tingli, but Wen Tingli quickly changed the subject: “Then you must have seen the film my partner directed—can you guess who she is? Here’s a hint: that film you love, The Legend of the Spirit Pearl, starring Duan Miaoqing—she was the director.”

Zhuang Xiaosheng raised a hand to cut her off. “Miss Wen, there’s no need to continue. I’ve already guessed your purpose here. To be frank, before you arrived, I’d already had visits from five other companies. Of them, Golden Film has shown the most sincerity, and I’ve already decided to sell Twin Pearls to them.”

At the Lilac Grand Hotel.

Huang Yuanshan was busy greeting the first wave of reporters arriving, when someone suddenly squeezed through the crowd and clapped her on the shoulder. Turning around, she found it was Gao Xiaowen, Zhao Qingluo, and Yan Zhenzhen, all three of them. Gao Xiaowen launched right in: “Sister Huang, do you and Wen Tingli even consider us friends anymore? If Yan Zhenzhen hadn’t called us first thing this morning, we still wouldn’t know you two were striking out on your own.”

Huang Yuanshan quickly pulled them aside. “Don’t even ask. Wen Tingli and I got dragged into this too—it’s a complete mess, I’ll fill you in properly later.”

Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen looked up happily at the red banner hanging above the venue: “Xiufeng Film Company—what a wonderful name!”

Suddenly someone came pushing frantically through the crowd toward them—it was Xiao Tian.

Sensing trouble, Huang Yuanshan pulled her into a corner.

“It fell through,” Xiao Tian said, out of breath. “This Zhuang Xiaosheng is even more stubborn than we imagined—like a stone at the bottom of a latrine, both foul and unyielding. No matter how Miss Wen tried to persuade him, he simply won’t sell us Twin Pearls.”

Yan Zhenzhen asked anxiously: “I told Wen Tingli everything I knew—and it still wasn’t enough?”

“No good. Liu Menglin must have said plenty of bad things about us to him. Zhuang Xiaosheng says he already knows all about the state of our new company—apparently we don’t even have a studio built yet, and the relevant actors aren’t in place either. He can’t think of any reason to sell Twin Pearls to us instead of the wealthy, powerful Golden Film. He also said he’s never seen Miss Wen perform before, so how would he know whether she’d botch his work?”

Huang Yuanshan had no time even to curse Liu Menglin. “What do we do now?! If we can’t get this settled before noon, today’s going to be a disaster.”

This was the first time Gao Xiaowen had ever seen Huang Yuanshan this flustered, and it made her anxious too. “Is he unhappy with the price you’re offering? That’s simple enough—let me go talk to him. Whatever he wants, I’ll pay it, consider it my investment in you and Wen Tingli’s company.”

Xiao Tian shook her head, pale-faced. “Miss Wen already brought that up earlier. But Zhuang Xiaosheng said Liu Menglin promised him before leaving: whatever price Miss Wen offers, Golden Film will double it.”

Everyone gasped.

Huang Yuanshan looked around anxiously, watching more and more reporters filing in, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“I do hope for the chance to work with your company in the future, but this time, there’s no way this can happen. Finish your tea, and then please, don’t stand on ceremony.” Zhuang Xiaosheng’s expression was cold as he offered tea as a gesture to see them out.

Wen Tingli, however, showed no sign of leaving. Instead, she smiled broadly and pulled two old newspapers out of her bag.

“Mr. Zhuang, the writer you admire most is Yue Zhaoyun, isn’t she?”

Zhuang Xiaosheng’s face changed at once. “This is getting more absurd by the minute. I have no time to listen to your nonsense. Along, come see our guest out.”

Wen Tingli, undeterred, began reading aloud from an old article in the newspaper.

“‘Regarding Yue Zhaoyun’s recent rise to fame, a little-known writer named Zhuang Xiaosheng has expressed considerable disdain, believing her storylines to be dull and her characters as wooden as puppets. Her popularity, he claims, is nothing more than a case of being in the right place at the right time. Had another writer taken up her material, it might have caused an even greater sensation. As competition in the romance-fiction market intensifies and increasingly talented writers emerge, Yue Zhaoyun will likely fade from relevance within a year.'”

Just as Zhuang Xiaosheng was about to explode with anger, Wen Tingli raised the second newspaper and read on: “‘Regarding Yue Zhaoyun’s new book once again shattering sales records, Zhuang Xiaosheng maintains the same view he held six months ago. In his opinion, Yue Zhaoyun merely knows how to pander to popular taste—whatever the public wants to read, she writes. She is essentially the most attention-seeking clown in the literary world, and moreover, she is remarkably skilled at leveraging press connections to promote herself. Her conduct resembles that of a businessman more than a writer… He believes that relying on clever wordplay alone cannot sustain a career forever, and that within a year, Yue Zhaoyun will have exhausted her creative well.'”

Having finished reading these two old pieces, Wen Tingli said with a smile: “Three years have passed, and far from having ‘exhausted her creative well,’ Yue Zhaoyun has become even more popular than before. This year, Beauty of the South, adapted from her new work, was an enormous hit. Mr. Zhuang, what are your thoughts on that?”

Zhuang Xiaosheng’s face turned livid with anger. “What exactly are you trying to say?!”

“Before visiting you today, I did quite a bit of research. Your path to fame has been far rockier than Yue Zhaoyun’s. You published fiction a full year before she did, yet remained in obscurity, while Yue Zhaoyun’s novels kept setting new sales records year after year for romance fiction. Your fees remained stuck at the low rate of one silver dollar per four thousand characters. Three years ago, you finally broke through with A Woman’s Household, yet it only held the front page of the major supplements for a single week before Yue Zhaoyun’s new work, The Voice of Freedom, knocked it down. Although you went on to achieve considerable success over the following two years and built a solid reputation in literary circles, in the hearts of readers, your name always seems to trail behind Yue Zhaoyun’s. I imagine, looking at her name, you must often feel the bitterness of ‘why, when Yu existed, did Liang also have to exist?'”

“Enough!” Zhuang Xiaosheng trembled all over. “You—you’re judging a gentleman’s heart with a petty person’s mind. Those two old pieces criticizing Yue Zhaoyun’s work were nothing but careless nonsense I spouted in my youth. Our writing styles are completely different. I have my own devoted readers—why would I need to view her as a rival? Say one more word of this nonsense and I’ll have you thrown out.”

“‘Nanqi loves to wear pale pink clothing’—’Lingzhu despises pale pink most of all, believing the color to be frivolous, worn only by shallow people’; ‘The older Nanqi gets, the more she craves sweets, always believing sweet things can fill the emptiness in her heart’—’Ugh, this is far too sweet, take it away, eating like this only makes one more foolish’; ‘Nanqi’s favorite Taizhou restaurant is called Lishan Pavilion.’—’Ah, Lishan Pavilion, that’s actually a newly opened foot-washing parlor, the pedicurists there have quite a skilled hand.'”

With each line Wen Tingli read, Zhuang Xiaosheng’s temple twitched.

Wen Tingli solemnly handed over her own notebook of excerpts for him to examine himself: “The earlier lines are from Beauty of the South; the latter are from your recently published Twin Pearls. These lines read like mirror images of each other—clearly you unconsciously wrote them to belittle her work. Her characters love pearls, so your characters must hate pearls; she goes east, you insist on going west. Anyone else might not have noticed these details, but as it happens, I played the role of Nanqi in Beauty of the South.”

Wen Tingli smiled. “To prepare for that role, I memorized nearly every line of the script, and I read the original novel more than a dozen times. So last night, the moment I borrowed Twin Pearls from a schoolmate and read it, I understood immediately: contrary to what you claim, you have never stopped viewing Yue Zhaoyun as a rival. She has clearly become your deepest obsession.”

“Keep talking nonsense and I’ll have you thrown out. Go ask around—my Twin Pearls is the most popular romance novel on the market this year, far surpassing Yue Zhaoyun’s Faded Splendor of Bygone Days from the same period last year. Don’t even suggest I’m reluctant to compare myself to her—if it truly came to a comparison, Yue Zhaoyun would clearly already be no match for me!”

“Isn’t that simply because Yue Zhaoyun hasn’t published anything new this year? The moment she releases something new, your Twin Pearls would fall behind in an instant.”

“Nonsense! Clearly it’s—” Zhuang Xiaosheng was shaking with fury. “I almost fell for your trap. Say whatever you like, I won’t argue with you. In any case, I will not be selling the adaptation rights of Twin Pearls to you. Along, Along, please show this troublesome young lady out.”

“Of course you don’t dare sell it to us—because you’re afraid of being exposed.” Wen Tingli sighed languidly. “Someone who has read every single line of Beauty of the South in the original—how could such a person not pay attention to what happened after it was adapted into a film? The moment you took my card, you already recognized me as the lead actress of Beauty of the South. Yet the first thing you said was that you’d never seen any of my films. First, to express your disdain for anything related to Yue Zhaoyun. Second, because you knew I rose to fame through that very film, and you’d already decided from the start not to hand Twin Pearls over to us. With the same lead actress and director, if Twin Pearls‘ box office turns out to fall far short of Beauty of the South‘s, wouldn’t that only prove once again that you remain Yue Zhaoyun’s inferior?”

“Shut your mouth!” Zhuang Xiaosheng was now practically apoplectic.

“If I were you, I’d hand the film over to us instead. Think about it—if you give the film to Golden Film, whatever the outcome, the credit will go either to Golden Film itself or to the director and lead actress. Few people will pay attention to Zhuang Xiaosheng’s name at all. Only by using the exact same cast and crew as before would people be able to fairly compare the two source novels.

“If your Twin Pearls outperforms Beauty of the South at the box office, it would prove to the world that your story is more compelling than hers—that your ten years of frustration weren’t due to lesser talent, only worse luck than others.

She shifted her tone. “Of course, if you lose again, from then on, whether you like it or not, you’ll have to concede that you’re no match for Yue Zhaoyun. Do you dare take the gamble?”

Zhuang Xiaosheng began scratching his head like a monkey in distress. The servant named Along, seeing this, rushed in fearfully to pull Wen Tingli away: “Please, stop provoking our master. You should leave now.”

Quick as lightning, Wen Tingli stuffed a prepared pamphlet into Zhuang Xiaosheng’s hands. “Just two more words and I’ll go. Mr. Zhuang, this is a list of romance novels Golden Film has purchased over the past two years—nearly twenty titles in all!

“Of all these books, only Director Huang Yuanshan’s Beauty of the South was a hit!

“The rest either flopped miserably at the box office due to shoddy production, or were completely forgotten, buried in some script drawer. If you sell Twin Pearls to them, it will suffer the same fate. This time, Liu Menglin’s offered price may be a bit higher than ours, but for the sake of your long-term interests, you absolutely must not hand your book over to him!”

As she spoke, she was already being pushed toward the door. Along called two more people over to help, but Wen Tingli clung desperately to the doorframe: “Give it to us and it’ll be different! The company just started—Twin Pearls would be our founding work. Director Huang and I would cherish your life’s work immeasurably! You may not have seen Beauty of the South, but surely you’ve heard how well-received it was? Whether Twin Pearls gathers dust in Golden Film’s cabinet, or shines brilliantly in our hands—that’s entirely your choice to make. Don’t let a small gain cost you something far greater! Mr. Zhuang! Mr. Zhuang?!”

At the venue, reporters from all sides had already taken their seats. Huang Yuanshan faced the packed reception hall, sweat soaking through her clothes layer after layer.

Not far off in a corner, Ding Hengjun of Minle Evening News stared fixedly at her. If Wen Tingli didn’t show up soon, Ding Hengjun might well cause a scene.

Xiao Tian’s legs were already trembling with fear: “Boss Huang, Miss Gao and the others might not be able to help much. Are you sure you don’t want to go over there yourself?”

Huang Yuanshan closed her eyes. Someone had to stay here to hold things together—at least her presence could keep the scene from falling apart.

Besides, she knew full well how capable Wen Tingli was. She had to have faith in her.

But—it was already past noon. Not only was Wen Tingli nowhere to be seen, Gao Xiaowen and the others had vanished too.

Huang Yuanshan’s heart sank like a stone.

Man proposes, heaven disposes. Perhaps some things simply couldn’t be turned around by personal effort alone—in the end, it came down to fate.

Could it be that even heaven wasn’t on their side this time?

A commotion rose from the direction of the entrance. Huang Yuanshan’s spirits lifted—but looking closer, it was Liu Menglin, swaggering in with his entourage. Reporters at the venue rushed to greet him: “Boss Liu.”

“Heard it was lively over here, thought I’d come take a look.”

As he spoke, Liu Menglin walked to the front row and sat down, watching Huang Yuanshan with a gleeful, gloating expression.

Huang Yuanshan had no choice but to force a smile and step forward to greet him: “Boss Liu, what brings you here today?”

“Why shouldn’t I come? Two of my former employees are trying to strike out on their own. As their old employer, of course I had to come deliver a grand gift in person.”

He glanced meaningfully to either side, and immediately someone in the crowd called out mockingly: “Boss Huang, weren’t you going to announce some major news at noon sharp? We all came out of respect for you. It’s already past noon by five minutes—why hasn’t it started?”

“Exactly, what kind of press conference runs past its scheduled time with no sign of starting? Surely Boss Huang isn’t deliberately toying with us?”

Huang Yuanshan raised a hand to calm the crowd. “Everyone, please be patient—three minutes, at most three minutes and we’ll begin.”

“You said that a while ago too, how many three-minutes has it been now? We’ve all got plenty of news to write, and it’s hot out—we don’t have time to keep waiting around for you. I’m leaving!”

More and more voices chimed in agreement: “Let’s go, everyone, let’s go.”

Just as the scene was about to descend into chaos, a clear voice rang out from outside: “Sorry, Mr. Zhuang and I are running late.”

The smile on Liu Menglin’s face froze instantly. The person who’d arrived wasn’t just Wen Tingli—it was Zhuang Xiaosheng as well.

Huang Yuanshan rushed forward in overjoyed disbelief.

Wen Tingli, beaming, led Zhuang Xiaosheng toward the stage under the collective gaze of nearly a hundred people.