Chapter 40

#Rong Yin Wool Roll#

Rong Yin’s slender fingers moved slightly, swiping the news page away with a sharp sound. “What kind of bullshit trending topic is this?”

Zhuang Jie sat in the passenger seat, not even lifting her head. “Still better than stirring up a CP for a trending spot.”

Rong Yin shot back quickly, “Isn’t stirring up CPs also something you had people push up?”

Zhuang Jie glanced at her through the rearview mirror but said nothing.

Rong Yin lifted her eyelids, her pretty face devoid of any warmth. “What kind of heartthrob script did you even get me? I’m curious—is there anyone left in the entire entertainment industry I haven’t clout-chased off of?”

Zhuang Jie frowned, as if dealing with an unreasonable child. “Rong Yin, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Rong Yin said, tossing the tablet in her hand carelessly onto the seat beside her. She turned to look at the swiftly receding city nightscape through the dark-tinted window, her voice cold. “It’s just too meaningless.”

Zhuang Jie fell silent for a moment, then turned around to face Rong Yin, her voice softening. “You’ve been too tired lately. It’s perfect timing now that the drama has wrapped. I’ve already discussed postponing the ad shoot. Take these next two days to rest well at home. Don’t overthink things.”

Apart from the Spring Festival, Rong Yin hadn’t had a day off in years. The two days of rest Zhuang Jie mentioned were indeed a major holiday for her. Though that was partly because of the incident where she’d fled in the middle of the night—Zhuang Jie had cleared the time specifically to placate her. In reality, her workload hadn’t decreased one bit.

“You need to understand, most people in this company have to move heaven and earth just to get a trending topic. If you keep complaining, you’re being ungrateful.” Zhuang Jie said with a smile, even reaching out to pat her knee. “Rong Yin, cherish it.”

Rong Yin’s knee twitched sharply, shaking off the hand. Her face was full of suppressed restraint.

Zhuang Jie wasn’t angered. She straightened up in the passenger seat again and said, “Yinyin, we’re good friends, so it’s fine for you to throw little tantrums around me. But you can’t be like this at the dinner party later, got it? There will naturally be others to keep people company with drinks, but you still have to put on a smiling face, right?”

Rong Yin pressed her lips tight. There’d been a time when she genuinely considered Zhuang Jie a good friend. After all, during those final months when her mother was on her deathbed, Zhuang Jie had indeed gone out of her way to help. She’d even used company connections to find a renowned expert physician for treatment, and before Rong Yin had even signed a contract, she’d fronted three million in medical expenses.

Although her mother ultimately still passed, Rong Yin had remembered that kindness all these years.

But repaying kindness—repaying kindness. She’d signed that kind of indentured contract, and four years under Zhuang Jie’s hand had been like a never-ending relay. She’d joined seventeen film crews, no matter how bad the scripts, regardless of whether they’d even air, no matter how sordid the track records of her co-stars. As long as Zhuang Jie opened her mouth, she had to swallow her disgust and accept. At the same time, she squeezed herself into every possible opening between schedules…

By now, Rong Yin was utterly disgusted by Zhuang Jie’s manipulative leveraging of past favors. Every time Zhuang Jie called her Yinyin, it made her stomach turn.

Rong Yin said nothing. The atmosphere inside the car nearly solidified.

The Mercedes business van finally pulled up slowly in front of the club. A doorman wearing white gloves came over and opened the door, and Rong Yin stepped out, her face a sheet of frost.

Quite a few people had come to the private room. Rong Yin had been to many dinners like this. Even though her heart loathed it, she still managed to hang a faint, forced smile of thirty percent charm the moment she stepped in.

A familiar producer was already greeting them warmly, gesturing for them to sit. Rong Yin’s gaze swept past the main seat—a young man dressed in black casual clothes. From Zhuang Jie’s introduction, he was the Eldest Young Master of Chenzhou Group, He Li, the future heir of a real estate giant, the wealthiest and most powerful big shot in the room.

But Rong Yin’s gaze finally settled on Lu Zhi, who was sitting beside him.

Lu Zhi’s outfit today was still comfortable and simple: a light-colored satin blouse, with only a deep green silk scarf tied at the collar, making her skin appear very fair and her aura refined and noble.

She was leaning back in her chair speaking softly to the man beside her, her posture relaxed, her expression carrying polite attentiveness.

As if noticing the movement at the door, Lu Zhi shifted her gaze slightly and quickly saw Rong Yin, whose surprise hadn’t yet faded from her face.

Lu Zhi smiled and waved them over. “Rong Yin, Sister Zhuang.”

Not just Rong Yin, even Zhuang Jie was stunned for a moment. She hurriedly led Rong Yin over, but first approached the man in the main seat, smiling apologetically. “President He, hello. Sorry, traffic jam. Rong Yin arrived late.”

“President He, hello. I’m Rong Yin from Splendid World Entertainment.” Rong Yin also came over. Slender high heels paired with a fitted black velvet gown made her sway gracefully, alluring and lovely. But her vocal tone was very clear, like a stream in springtime. She wore a faint smile, respectful yet neither servile nor overbearing.

He Li gave an “Mm,” his gaze sweeping up and down over Rong Yin. Chenzhou Group’s business portfolio already extended into the entertainment industry, so he naturally knew of Rong Yin, though they’d never interacted before. He turned and asked Lu Zhi, “She’s from your company too?”

“Yeah, a kid.” Lu Zhi laughed.

He Li snorted in amusement and teased, “How come everyone’s a ‘kid’ in your eyes?”

Just then, a moderately well-known director who’d been sitting nearby very tactfully vacated his seat. Although Zhuang Jie was inwardly shocked at how familiar Lu Zhi seemed with He Li, she still made a show of politely declining before pressing Rong Yin into the seat. At the same time, she very naturally struck up a conversation with the director, thanking him warmly.

The moment she entered, Rong Yin noticed that among the artists present were two newcomers from Splendid World Entertainment. This was something the company often did—whether for filming or routine dinner parties, they loved the “bring one, bring two” approach.

Being on camera was one thing, but this sort of packaged dinner party attendance was chiefly about riding the coattails of the big sister’s status to network and find resources. There was also a more unspoken reason: when necessary, to take the place of the big sister in dealing with those ill-intentioned demands to keep someone company drinking and smiling.

Rong Yin had been in the industry for years. Though she inwardly resisted it, she’d long grown accustomed.

She scanned the room again to confirm that Zhou Mingming wasn’t there—only her agent had come.

Rong Yin pressed her lips together. When she refocused, she heard Lu Zhi and the others discussing the jade thumb ring He Li was wearing.

“Gold-red infused jade thumb rings aren’t common on the market. In ancient times, this was an imperial color only emperors could wear. The most famous one should be from modern times—the one belonging to that Emperor Wenshu.” Lu Zhi smiled and said, “I wonder which exhibition hall it’s sitting in now. I’ll have to find time to go see what difference it has from yours.”

Rong Yin listened to Lu Zhi speak. Her voice was clear and light, the few words of flattery she offered coming out so plain they almost sounded casual, yet utterly sincere.

Then they began discussing jade’s color and luster, how to discern quality, how to select.

Rong Yin didn’t know much about these things. She only occasionally chimed in with a word or two, rarely interjecting. Surrounded by a circle of big shots, her attention kept involuntarily drifting toward Lu Zhi.

People who move in entertainment circles all develop the ability to speak the right words to the right people—human speech to humans, ghost speech to ghosts. As long as your status is established, no topic that drops is unfollowable. And so the dinner topics quickly changed again and again—from jade gambling and appraisal to economics and finance, from Jiangnan cuisine to the war situation. Every subject was plucked up for a few words of commentary, with a personal dissection tacked on to showcase intellect and ability.

Rong Yin noticed that Lu Zhi didn’t falter among a group of men practically wearing the words “encyclopedic knowledge” on their faces. She didn’t speak much, but her words carried substance. It was as if she’d dabbled in everything—shallow topics she could gloss over, deep ones she could outline with precision. Yet at the same time, her words were restrained, her manner understated, giving absolutely no discomfort of intellectual showiness.

She was a very comfortable conversationalist—measured in demeanor, naturally warm.

Zhuang Jie always talked about effective socializing. Rong Yin couldn’t help glancing back at Zhuang Jie, who was going around making toasts everywhere, then at Lu Zhi, whose fingers gently traced the wine glass but who had barely drunk at all. She curved her lips slightly.

Midway, Lu Zhi went to the restroom. When she came out, she saw Rong Yin.

The restroom of this high-end club was also decorated with extreme opulence and cleanliness, a faint sandalwood fragrance in the air.

“Waiting for me?” Lu Zhi looked at her, unsurprised.

“Yes.” Rong Yin tilted her head slightly, smiling prettily.

Her barefoot height was 1.67 meters, and today she wore six-centimeter heels. But compared to the 1.7-meter Lu Zhi, dressed in light gray trousers and low-heeled leather shoes, she only just managed to match her height.

Lu Zhi smiled, turned on the tap to wash her hands first, then shut it off, pulling out a paper towel to slowly dry them.

She then turned her head to look at Rong Yin, who waited quietly. She was the type of beauty with strong, concentrated features—radiant and innocent blended into one. Her brows and eyes were pure black, her skin pure white. When she stood perfectly still, she had the brittle fragility of ancient porcelain. Especially that long, graceful neck. Today she wore a square-necked black dress, her thick hair pinned up behind her head, exposing a neckline of astonishing beauty.

Perhaps because her gaze was too unbridled, Rong Yin raised an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically.

“Your neck is very beautiful,” Lu Zhi said.

Lu Zhi’s compliment was very specific. Rong Yin first blinked in slight surprise, then laughed, her thick, curled lashes carrying her dark eyes curved into crescent moons.

Then she leaned in closer, the two of them near enough to catch each other’s perfume—one a cold fragrance of distant mountain frost and snow, the other a rich, lingering floral scent.

“Sister…”

When she called her “Sister,” her voice was soft and cottony, her vocal tone transforming from a clear stream into sweet, honeyed syrup—coquettish and ambiguous.

“Sister,” Rong Yin called again in a low voice, gazing at Lu Zhi with tender eyes, their depths as if holding a layer of watery light, carrying a pitiful hint of grievance. “So, have you thought it over?”

“Want me?”

This was a person wielding beauty to commit murder.

Lu Zhi smiled and thought for a moment, then said, “Zhuang Jie is married.”

The beautiful, smiling eyes of Rong Yin froze.

“Married?”

“When?”

“To who?”

“End of last year,” Lu Zhi said, tossing the paper towel in her hand into the trash. Her voice was casual as she supplied a name: “Jiang Yan.”

Zhuang Jie managed two people at Splendid World Entertainment: twenty-four-year-old Jiang Yan and twenty-two-year-old Rong Yin.

Most of Rong Yin’s resource swaps over the past two years had been because of Jiang Yan.

Zhuang Jie had always said it was because the company wanted to cultivate a big brother figure.

Jiang Yan’s position as Splendid World Entertainment’s big brother had been entirely built by Rong Yin using her own traffic.

Zhuang Jie had married Jiang Yan. A secret marriage.

Rong Yin was so blown away by this explosive news that she couldn’t recover.

“Use this information to make Zhuang Jie let you go.” Lu Zhi turned around, her gaze calm as she looked at Rong Yin. “On the company side, I’ll negotiate a top-tier endorsement deal for you as an explanation.”

“…” Rong Yin didn’t speak for a good while.

To be honest, her initial thought in wanting Lu Zhi to be her agent was, first, naturally because she saw how well Lu Zhi treated Zhou Mingming—dedicated in work and not harsh in lifestyle. Second, it was because Lu Zhi was young. Although sometimes frighteningly assertive, she ultimately didn’t have much in the way of resources or experience. If Rong Yin signed under her name, she’d gain a lot more say, and picking and choosing work would be far more convenient. She was truly sick of being watched and controlled twenty-four hours a day by someone else.

But now…

Wouldn’t she just be fleeing a wolf’s den only to enter a tiger’s lair?

Rong Yin pressed her lips together and asked uncertainly, “Then… when would be best to bring it up?”

“Either today or tomorrow will work.”

Rong Yin again fell into suspicious silence. Could a happy life really come this fast?

Outside the restroom was a lavishly decorated hallway. Rong Yin slowly followed behind Lu Zhi. After a long pause, she asked, “Will you treat me the way you treat Zhou Mingming?”

Lu Zhi’s steps paused for a moment. She turned her head slightly and smiled. “Mingming is very well-behaved.”

Meaning: I’m not well-behaved?

Rong Yin grumbled inwardly but finally couldn’t hold back. Just before pushing the door open, she murmured a soft but forceful retort, “I’m very well-behaved too!”