Wu Man sat down in front of the vanity mirror and leaned in close under the cold white fluorescent lights to examine carefully—there was a very faint fine line at the corner of her eye.

She forced a smile at her reflection. Like a breeze rippling across water, the wrinkle at the corner of her eye became slightly more distinct.

Someone knocked lightly at the door. Wu Man relaxed her expression and draped herself lazily against the chair back: “Come in.”

The door handle turned, and the makeup artist entered respectfully carrying a large toolbox, praising her without even looking up: “Sister Man, your bare face looks so good, you barely need any foundation.”

While saying this, the makeup artist deliberately applied an extra thick layer around the eye area, almost covering the small mole beneath Wu Man’s inner eye corner. Wu Man’s brow furrowed, and the makeup artist seemed to sense her invisible irritation, not daring to even breathe heavily.

Trees grow rings, people grow wrinkles—this was the most natural law of life. But for actresses, it seemed to be a shockingly rare occurrence.

Even after eleven years in the industry, time had mercifully left only an insignificant line at the corner of her eye, but there was ultimately a gap between her current appearance and the girl she had been at twenty.

Female celebrities were not allowed to age.

Wu Man closed her eyes, her restlessness not yet dissipated when an even more annoying matter came knocking. Her assistant Wei Wei returned with photos just taken from the wardrobe room, showing two very similar haute couture gowns hanging there.

“One is yours—I just took it to be steamed. The other… is He Huiyu’s.”

The makeup room fell into suffocating silence. Wu Man lifted her eyelids to glance at the photo, then closed them again.

Wei Wei watched her cautiously through the vanity mirror, forcing herself to say: “I just contacted several brands. The only ones still available that can be delivered before the awards ceremony starts are all from past seasons… What do you think we should do?”

Undoubtedly, wearing a past-season piece would invite mockery. But wearing the same dress wasn’t necessarily fatal—either you completely outshine the other person and win beautifully, or you get mocked even more mercilessly. It all depended on who was willing to spend more money buying promotional articles.

However, today was the Golden Image Awards ceremony. A wardrobe clash concerned not just the red carpet, but also which of them would claim the award. She and He Huiyu were both nominated for this year’s Best Actress. The tension was even more obvious. If she lost, it wouldn’t be as simple as getting mocked through paid articles—she wouldn’t be able to hold her head up for years to come.

Wu Man unconsciously picked at her nails. A sharp pain—the long nail on her little finger had broken.

“Bring back the steamed dress. I’ll wear it.”

It was nothing more than a do-or-die gamble. Who was afraid of whom?

She broke off the little fingernail completely at the root without changing expression, as if the nail wasn’t connected to flesh but to stone.

Half an hour remained before the official red carpet walk. Wu Man dismissed everyone and slipped into the last stall of the restroom, locking the door.

She pulled out a pack of Su cigarettes from her pocket, didn’t light it, just held it loosely between her lips, staring blankly at the windowless ceiling, occasionally pulling out her phone to check. Messages kept coming in, but the pinned WeChat conversation remained silent.

Two people entered the restroom, each choosing a stall to relieve themselves while chatting with each other.

“Did you see Wu Man and He Huiyu’s dresses? Bloodbath incoming.”

“Of course I saw! It’s already spread all over backstage—everyone’s waiting to watch the drama unfold. Who do you think will win Best Actress tonight?”

“In terms of acting, I definitely support He Huiyu. But in other aspects, it’s hard to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think Wu Man actually won all those watered-down awards before through real talent? Look at what she’s been acting in—if it weren’t for the person behind her buying awards for her, she wouldn’t even get nominated.”

“I’ve heard about this, but I never knew who her patron was.”

The two stall doors opened. The female voices lowered, mumbling a surname: “Yu.”

The response was a sharp intake of breath: “…Really?”

“Besides that young master, who else has this kind of influence? Apparently he’s the one who secured Wu Man’s nomination this time too.”

“Come on, this is the Golden Image Awards—doesn’t it have high prestige? Can they really manipulate it like that?!”

“Getting nominated is easy. Rigging the actual award would be harder to say. It would probably cost a fortune, not worth it. Maybe two years ago the young master would still be willing, but now…”

“Now?”

“It’s been so many years, he must be tired of her by now.”

Only after the footsteps faded did Wu Man spit out the Su cigarette she’d bitten into shreds. Several WeChat messages from Wei Wei had already arrived on her silenced phone, urging her to hurry back to the makeup room to change. The pinned conversation remained completely quiet.

She stopped waiting and walked slowly out of the restroom. The nearby clock tower chimed the hour. Several employees wearing work badges came running toward her in the corridor, speaking urgently in Cantonese.

Wu Man couldn’t understand much, only vaguely catching two words: Zhui Ye.

A name that had been causing quite a stir despite having just debuted recently.

After Wu Man changed into her complete outfit and walked outside, she discovered it had just rained. The ground was slick with water, the puddles reflecting colorful neon lights like the dazzling competition among those present.

She walked steadily in ten-centimeter stilettos through the wetness. Wherever she went, the sound of camera shutters was louder than the earlier rain. Countless spotlights surrounded her, falling on her exposed back—add one more piece of kindling and it could burst into flames.

That kindling came as promised.

He Huiyu appeared beside Wu Man in a similar lotus-colored long dress, wearing sky-high heels with an assistant’s support. The two had similar builds and were about the same age, but their temperaments were distinctly different. He Huiyu had her hair up, immaculately styled, exposing her delicate neck, her whole being radiating a just-right yet somehow familiar elegant grandeur.

Wu Man, meanwhile, had dyed her hair dark red, like a nightingale’s plumage, loosely draped over her shoulders, unable to completely cover her bare back, revealing the birthmark there—a large patch shaped like a broken feather, brazenly embedded in her pale skin. That kind of chaotic yet decadent beauty always felt like something that shouldn’t exist in this world.

When two queens meet, someone gets hurt. The camera shutters grew even more intense than before, nearly deafening Wu Man’s ears.

He Huiyu reached out to embrace her, whispering as they separated: “If I were you, I absolutely wouldn’t wear this outfit.”

Wu Man didn’t respond. He Huiyu said meaningfully: “I don’t seem to see Mr. Yu at the venue tonight.”

Wu Man’s smile turned cold: “The organizers invited him, you should ask them.”

“Isn’t he closer to you?” He Huiyu linked arms with her intimately, murmuring in a tone only the two of them could hear, “Looks like the rumors outside aren’t baseless. Without Yu Jiaze as your backing, what do you have to compete with me?”

Wu Man calmly withdrew her hand: “I haven’t even considered you a threat, so how is there competition?”

She swept past He Huiyu toward the red carpet. Wei Wei waited at the other end clutching a phone, seeing Wu Man approach and jogging over to hand it to her: “Sister Man, you have a WeChat message.”

Wu Man’s heart skipped a beat. The hand reaching for the phone shifted to sweep through her hair first, then took it.

However, the WeChat sender wasn’t the person she’d been expecting, but her agent Zhao Boyu.

“Why didn’t you discuss the wardrobe clash with me? Or do you already know the result? You should have told me earlier! I’ll arrange a celebration banquet right away!”

Wu Man replied self-mockingly with two words: “No.”

Zhao Boyu rapidly sent several more messages.

“What’s going on with Mr. Yu this time, isn’t he handling it?”

“You dare to clash outfits when nothing’s certain… Auntie, in a head-to-head fight we can’t compete with He Huiyu.”

“I guess the celebration banquet is off, I’ll contact PR first…”

Wu Man scrolled to her pinned WeChat, labeled Yu Jiaze, with a little bird as the profile picture. Still no new messages. The last conversation ended a month ago with her cold two-word reply: Received.

After the red carpet ended, the awards ceremony officially began at the Hong Kong Cultural Centre.

The seats below were almost entirely filled. Wu Man scanned quickly and noticed two seats conspicuously empty.

One in the front row—she didn’t need to look to know it belonged to Yu Jiaze. The other seat was several rows behind her; she couldn’t see the name on the card clearly, feeling somewhat curious.

The host on stage began presenting the first award, Best New Actor. The big screen started showing excerpts from nominated performances. Wu Man looked up—many faces were unfamiliar, the selected clips were competent but nothing eye-catching.

Until the screen rotated to the last one, a Republican-era drama. A boy in khaki overalls leaned casually against a pavilion, the lighting very dim. He was smoking, the spark intermittently illuminating his nose—beyond that, nothing could be seen. A woman in a qipao leaned toward him infatuatedly. He laughed softly, lifting his hand to push back his newsboy cap brim, exhaling a ring of smoke toward the woman while his eyes slanted toward the camera, instantly revealing the hidden half of his face. Ash fell to the ground, burning a void in the viewer’s heart.

Wu Man’s gaze fell on the name that appeared: Zhui Ye / “Sinful Son”

This film had been nominated for the main competition at Cannes for the Palme d’Or. The lead actor Zhui Ye was acting for the first time—everyone envied how incredibly lucky he was. Just riding the film’s coattails for a nomination was already a resume that made most people green with envy. No one dared hope he would actually win Best Actor.

After all, the popular candidate at the time was a French national treasure-level actor. Defeating him would be like an ant crushing an elephant.

Yet when the result came out, the whole world was shocked.

That brand-new, young Eastern face casually glanced past numerous blonde-haired, blue-eyed people and lifted the Best Actor trophy, pressing it lightly to his lips.

Who wouldn’t be jealous? This kind of debut starting point was fundamentally the peak that most people in the industry could never reach in their lifetime. Talent was truly tyrannically unfair.

The presenter didn’t build suspense but got straight to the point, because the result was foregone.

“This year’s Best New Actor Award, without question, absolutely goes to this breakout new actor—Zhui Ye!”

The director’s camera tracked to that empty seat.

So this was his seat.

“Due to health reasons, Zhui Ye regrettably couldn’t make it to the scene today, but let us still offer our congratulations with applause.”

The thunderous applause from the industry elites below was given to an empty chair. Wu Man found it amusing, too lazy to even raise her hands.

She absolutely didn’t believe the health issue excuse. Recalling those staff members who’d passed her in the corridor, they were probably stressed about Zhui Ye deliberately abandoning the event. But the organizers couldn’t give the award to anyone else—a Palme d’Or Best Actor losing to other newcomers would be absurd.

Although the Golden Image Awards weren’t as prestigious as the Palme d’Or, domestically it was already top-tier. Wu Man had heard he was arrogant, but hadn’t expected him to be this arrogant.

Too rigid and it breaks—he’d just entered the industry, there would be plenty of times for him to kneel later. Wu Man thought coldly, turning her head to find He Huiyu looking at her. He Huiyu pointed at Yu Jiaze’s empty chair in the front row, pursing her lips in a smile, with a kind of confident composure.

The venue was airtight. Wu Man’s expression remained unchanged, but she began feeling oxygen-deprived.

After enduring a long time, just before they were about to announce Best Actress, Wu Man’s phone vibrated once.

A new unread notification appeared on her pinned WeChat.

Yu Jiaze: “Ten-year anniversary gift.”

Then she heard the host on stage announce her name.

Eyes converged from all around—jealousy, disdain, scrutiny, mockery… In short, not a single kind gaze, but so what? Victors don’t need to justify the process. She’d won the bet.

Wu Man squinted slightly in the spotlight, her tense shoulders relaxing, standing straight with a beaming smile, looking down to meet He Huiyu’s gaze.

The other woman’s face was deathly pale, losing composure and forgetting to applaud.

Before going on stage, she leaned down and whispered in He Huiyu’s ear: “If I were you, I absolutely wouldn’t wear this outfit.”

The awards ceremony dragged on until very late. When they came out, Star Ferry Pier was still lively, surrounded by an impenetrable crowd.

Wu Man got into the nanny van and left. After the car drove some distance, the street gradually grew deserted. From grand to desolate, separated by just a dozen meters—this was the entertainment industry. From her debut until now, Wu Man still felt a bit of disoriented unease.

Wei Wei hugged her phone, scrolling constantly: “Brother Zhao has already arranged for all the articles to be published. The trending topic about your win has already climbed to second place.”

“Not first yet?”

“First is…” Wei Wei glanced at it, hesitating.

Wu Man opened the trending topics, encountering that name for the third time tonight.

Zhui Ye.

The topic was about him missing the Golden Image Awards, but why would this have even higher popularity than herself? Wu Man clicked on related videos in confusion. A video recorded on a phone had gone viral.

The phone owner had originally been filming night cherry blossoms. A boy wearing a baseball cap entered the frame, instantly making the full tree of cherry blossoms in the spring night become his backdrop.

The camera shook, the voice behind the phone trembling: “You… are you Zhui Ye? You’re Zhui Ye, right!”

Zhui Ye froze for a moment, then casually tossed a can of beer toward the camera.

“Want to drink? My treat.”

“Ah? Thank you…”

The phone camera spun wildly for a moment, then returned to normal. The person filming murmured in confusion: “I’m not dreaming, am I? I’m actually viewing flowers and drinking with Zhui Ye right now? The fan group was just saying you were in poor health so you were absent, how could you be in Japan…”

“How could going to receive a watered-down award compare to flying here to see the cherry blossoms at Meguro River?” Zhui Ye stretched lazily, lying down on the park lawn. “Life is so short, live intensely then die—can’t waste time.”

“Watered… watered-down award?—The Golden Image Awards?”

“An award that went to Wu Man instead of He Huiyu, if that’s not watered-down, what is?”

He looked toward the camera, with that same unpleasant, naked gaze.

The video stopped abruptly there.

The heating in the nanny van blew warmly. Silence was tonight’s Bridge of Helplessness.

Wu Man’s expression was blank, her finger scrolling through Weibo showing a prominent vein.

Two minutes later, netizens refreshed to find Wu Man had liked a marketing account post from two months ago—

“Newly crowned Palme d’Or Best Actor Zhui Ye constantly neglecting his work? Another new romance exposed, suspected to be top actress He Huiyu!”

After waiting a few seconds, she unliked it and posted a Weibo.

@Wu Man v: Hehe, finger slipped [cute]