Chapter 9: Chance Encounter

The crew of Injustice Cleared noticed that their production director, who had been pinching pennies just a month earlier, had suddenly turned generous.

Box lunches now included chicken legs, props had become more elaborate, and Producer He had even hired ancient etiquette instructors for several of the leads. Shen Xinghe, who played the female lead, received especially lavish treatment with her own dedicated classical dance teacher.

Someone quickly sniffed out the reason behind it all, and rumors flew that Shen Xinghe had brought her own investment into the production.

Fortunately, Jiang Zhizhou—wearing Shen Xinghe’s skin—possessed impeccable acting skills. She nailed her scenes in single takes, never causing any headaches for the crew. Her dancing was exquisite too, her movements fluid and graceful. Her beauty and poise were beyond reproach, a true delight to behold. Though not overly chatty, she never gossiped about others behind their backs and would occasionally treat everyone to milk tea or cold drinks. After two months together, Jiang Zhizhou had earned herself a solid reputation among the crew.

Producer He, approaching thirty, sometimes teased her during their chats. “Little Shen, you’ve changed quite a bit lately. Sometimes you don’t seem like a nineteen-year-old girl at all—you seem more like someone my age.” Jiang Zhizhou would just smile and reply, half-serious and half-joking, “I’ve been through too much crap to compare with a real nineteen-year-old.”

No matter her talent, a twenty-seven-year-old like Jiang Zhizhou couldn’t stay in character as a nineteen-year-old Shen Xinghe every waking moment. It wasn’t impossible, but putting on a mask for the camera and another one off it was utterly exhausting.

She was a woman who had died once before. She refused to live that tiringly again.

Time passed in a blur on set. That evening, after they wrapped for the day, Jiang Zhizhou skipped the crew van back to the hotel. She said goodbye to the person in charge and wandered over to the nearby pedestrian street.

Back home, it had been ages since she’d strolled so freely—no mask, no sunglasses, no entourage, no paparazzi trailing her every step. She could go anywhere she pleased, do whatever she wanted.

The one downside? She was flat broke. Her pay per episode was barely a tenth of what she’d commanded before, forcing her to cut back drastically. Even out on the street, she didn’t dare splurge.

After some window-shopping and a simple dinner, Jiang Zhizhou was heading back to the hotel when a black Maserati approached. Its headlights flashed twice before the car pulled to a smooth stop in front of her.

“Little Star!”

The passenger door swung open, and a familiar figure hopped out. She rushed forward for a bear hug, but Jiang Zhizhou deftly sidestepped, draping an arm loosely around her shoulders instead. “Yuhe, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Qingmeng?”

Xia Yuhe explained, “Qingmeng tweaked her arm during the fight scene. She needs ice for it, but the crew ran out. I’ve checked several shops and can’t find any.”

“How bad is it?” Jiang Zhizhou asked.

“It’s swollen up huge,” Xia Yuhe said.

Jiang Zhizhou thought for a moment. “Come on. I know a place nearby. I’ll take you.”

She led Xia Yuhe to a corner shop and bought a bunch of ice, then swung by the pharmacy for a bottle of Yunnan Baiyao spray before walking her back to the car.

Jiang Zhizhou raised her hand to wave goodbye when Xia Yuhe poked her head out the window. “Little Star, why don’t you come to the set and check on Qingmeng?”

Jiang Zhizhou’s first instinct was to say no, but then she remembered those WeChat messages from Jiang Qingmeng. A little voice in her head urged her on—for the sake of that fan who’d adored her for ten whole years, why not pay a visit?

“Give me three minutes.” Jiang Zhizhou rattled off the set’s address, dashed back to the corner shop for several big bags of popsicles, then stopped at a cold drinks stand. Gritting her teeth against the expense, she ordered over a hundred servings of fruit juice before climbing into the car with Xia Yuhe and heading to the set to see Jiang Qingmeng.

In the car, Xia Yuhe bombarded her with questions. How was her health? Was she recovering well? Was filming wearing her out?

Unlike her previous life, with its hordes of assistants and entourage, she was on her own now—no team, no help. It felt just like those days a decade ago, before she’d made it big. She’d gone from uncomfortable to accustomed, but Xia Yuhe’s sudden concern warmed her heart all the same. A second later, though, she remembered that concern wasn’t really for her—it was for the original host.

She answered patiently before steering the conversation elsewhere. “And how have you been lately?”

Xia Yuhe beamed. “Pretty good! Qingmeng takes great care of me. I’ve learned so much just by sticking close. Whenever I don’t get something, she explains it so patiently. She’s such a pro—super dedicated to her work, insists on doing all her own stunts. Not like that male lead in our crew, who won’t show up himself and just sends a half-dozen stunt doubles…” She trailed off, realizing mid-sentence that gushing about Jiang Qingmeng in front of Shen Xinghe might not land well. She sneaked a cautious glance at the other woman’s face and saw no hint of displeasure. Only then did she relax.

Jiang Zhizhou gazed at the scenery flashing by outside the car window, saying offhandedly, “From now on, just say nice things about people behind their backs. Don’t praise one and trash another—it’s easy to invite trouble with loose lips.”

She withdrew her gaze and looked at Xia Yuhe. “The bigger your artists get, the more careful you’ll have to be. Don’t trust people too readily, understand?”

Xia Yuhe nodded in a daze, then bowed her head. “Actually, Sister Chen Lin warned me not to gossip behind people’s backs, and I’ve always kept that in mind. It’s just been so long since I last saw you, and I was so thrilled to run into you today that it slipped my mind.”

Spilling secrets behind the scenes was a major taboo in the industry. If word got out, no one would touch you. There had once been an assistant to a certain A-list star who blabbed to the media about the celebrity cheating, throwing diva fits, and having a rotten temper. The star’s PR team smothered the scandal in days with hardly any fallout, but that assistant was radioactive from then on—blacklisted across the board and forced to switch careers.

Jiang Zhizhou smiled faintly. “It’s no big deal. Just watch it next time.”

Xia Yuhe nodded, thinking to herself that Little Star really had changed after the car crash—so much that she barely recognized her anymore. The realization brought a twinge of loss; she had the vague sense that they could never go back to the way things used to be.

“By the way, do you know He Jia?”

Lost in her thoughts, Xia Yuhe was caught off guard by Jiang Zhizhou’s question and answered without missing a beat. “Of course. She used to be Qingmeng’s publicity assistant. When Qingmeng hit it big, He Jia got promoted right along with her. Now she’s the publicity director at Star Source Entertainment.”

“I see. So she and Qingmeng are still close?”

“Yeah, even though she’s not on Qingmeng’s publicity team anymore, they keep in touch all the time.”

Jiang Zhizhou nodded. Noticing Xia Yuhe’s puzzled stare, she explained without batting an eye, “My health’s been improving, and bits of people and events from the past are coming back to me. I’m just asking around to help jog my memory.”

Xia Yuhe grew solemn. “You can’t just ask randomly. The doctor said I should fill you in on the old days to aid your recovery. Let me give you the whole rundown…”

He Jia had once been the publicity director for a top-tier idol, orchestrating PR triumphs that belonged in textbooks. Then she blew the whistle on her own client for drug use and soliciting prostitutes, sending shockwaves through half the entertainment world. Some hailed her as a righteous whistleblower; others whispered it was payback for bad blood. Regardless, after that, no star would go near her. The industry was a vast cesspool with precious few who stayed spotless and upright. Nobody wanted a live grenade in their midst, liable to blow up in their face at any moment.

Until she crossed paths with Jiang Qingmeng.

By then, He Jia had been shown the door by her old employer, her name mud, with not a single company willing to hire her—not even Star Source, which chucked her resume straight into the trash while she watched. Heartbroken, He Jia trudged out of the building, only for Jiang Qingmeng to dig the resume out of the garbage herself and chase her down the street, asking if she’d join her team.

From there, Jiang Qingmeng rocketed to stardom.

Jiang Zhizhou listened attentively the whole way, musing to herself: This little fan of mine—dedicated, gentle, kind, clever…

She really was something.

Her fondness for Xia Yuhe deepened even further.