Chapter 42

The position of personal assistant isn’t the easiest to fill. While many people apply, the unique demands of the job mean celebrities in the industry usually choose their own friends or family members.

Since Splendid World Entertainment maintains strict control over its artists, agents typically handpick their assistants. Lu Zhi, however, didn’t go looking for her own friends or family. Instead, she had HR post a public listing on the company website. After an initial screening, the candidates were brought before her.

The hiring process for the newcomer was slow, but Little Ma had already moved out of the villa.

Rong Yin, finally able to do whatever she wanted alone at home, was required on set at ten in the morning. At nine, Lu Zhi called her from downstairs, but no one answered.

Lu Zhi punched in the villa’s entry code, two assistants following behind her.

God knows what time Rong Yin had finally gone to sleep last night; the TV downstairs was still on. Lu Zhi dispatched one assistant to the kitchen and tasked the other with tidying up the first-floor living room, which Rong Yin had turned into a chaotic mess.

Rong Yin herself was, naturally, still sprawled face-down on the king-sized bed on the second floor, dead asleep.

This time, when Lu Zhi woke her, Rong Yin wasn’t met with the same irritable temper as before. Although her expression remained sour, she shuffled through brushing her teeth and washing her face like a listless ghost.

For breakfast, they’d brought her two siu mai. Since they contained glutinous rice, a proper staple, Rong Yin ate them with immense satisfaction. The only problem was her slow chewing. The moment she swallowed her last bite, Lu Zhi plucked a tissue from the box, wiped her mouth, and slapped a sheet mask onto her face.

“Hey, hey!” Rong Yin protested, her voice muffled. “I haven’t finished my soy milk…”

An assistant promptly stuck a straw into the cup and handed it over.

Since the shoot location was a fair distance away and morning traffic was its usual nightmare, Rong Yin had to get into the car with the mask still on. Clutching her soy milk, she refused to part with it, taking tiny, delicate sips the whole way.

“What are you typing?” Rong Yin asked when the allotted time was up. She peeled off her face mask, took the damp cleansing cloth the assistant in the passenger seat handed her, and turned to look at Lu Zhi, who had been tapping away at her keyboard the entire ride.

“A career development plan for Su Xi’s artists.”

Rong Yin’s eyes lit up and she leaned closer. “Mine?”

“That’s for Mingming. Yours has already been submitted,” Lu Zhi said.

“Huh?” Rong Yin puffed out her cheeks, glaring at her. “When did you write it? You submitted it without even letting me see?!”

Lu Zhi didn’t look up. “I submitted it before Zhuang Jie even transferred you over. Why do you think Su Xi agreed so easily?”

Rong Yin made an “Oh” sound, her tone softening. “Then send it to me now so I can read it.”

Lu Zhi didn’t refuse, sending the PDF from her folder to Rong Yin’s phone.

Rong Yin opened it—a fifty-seven-page document with illustrations. The first few pages were relatively simple, merely outlining some of the labels attached to her. The flattering ones: Traffic Starlet, Sweetheart, Little Fairy, Runaway Princess, Peerless Beauty. The unflattering ones: Spotlight Hogger, CP Bait, Web Drama Queen, Low-Class Celebrity, Set-Crash Expert, Diva on a Power Trip…

Rong Yin had been criticized since her debut. She prided herself on having developed a thick skin, but seeing these pages still made her grit her teeth. She flipped past them with a darkened face, finally reaching the core of the plan.

To earn Su Xi’s trust, Lu Zhi had painted a detailed blueprint for Rong Yin’s development: how to gather a fanbase, how to counteract haters, how to elevate her status, how to transition her image, how to collaborate with other artists later on, how to maintain lasting relevance, how to become one of Splendid World Entertainment’s aces, how to generate profit for the company…

The more Rong Yin read, the brighter her eyes became.

“Only trust about thirty percent of it,” Lu Zhi cautioned, noticing how absorbed Rong Yin was. “That’s the big promise I fed to Su Xi. If you swallow it whole, you might get indigestion.”

Rong Yin paused, caught off guard. But once she understood, there wasn’t a trace of disappointment. Instead, she flashed Lu Zhi a particularly sweet smile, excitement shining in her eyes as she squealed under her breath, “Ahh! Ahh! How are you this brilliant?!”

Lu Zhi gave a small smile, murmuring an acknowledgment to accept the compliment.

Rong Yin stared at her phone. The more she looked at each item, the more she felt every single one had real, actionable potential. It didn’t read like an empty promise at all.

Even she herself couldn’t tell, let alone Su Xi.

Rong Yin put her phone down, deeply satisfied, genuinely convinced she’d stumbled upon a treasure. She turned, noticing Lu Zhi was still typing, curiosity getting the better of her. “Can I see Zhou Mingming’s?”

Lu Zhi stopped typing, considered it for two seconds, and nodded. “Sure.”

Rong Yin eagerly scooted over, her eyes following the scrolling text on Lu Zhi’s screen.

Compared to her own, Zhou Mingming’s plan was clearly much simpler. Yet, as Rong Yin read on, a slight discomfort crept in. Why did hers feel so much more proper and academic?

“Barring the unforeseen, I’ll probably only be managing you and Mingming for the next few years,” Lu Zhi said, closing the laptop and looking at Rong Yin. “You’re both positioned as actors now, but neither of you has a formal academic background. Mingming is still young. She’s new to the industry; her thinking hasn’t been confined in terms of acting yet. Later on, I’ll arrange for her to take classes first.”

“As for you,” Lu Zhi paused, then continued, “I’m not a professional, but I know how hard it is to break bad habits. Zhuang Jie managed you for four years, running you through so many third-rate crews. Your expressions of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness have become superficial. Unlearning that will be harder than it is for Mingming, who’s a blank slate.”

Rong Yin pressed her lips together. Although she knew it was the truth, her heart still felt heavy, a hint of shame and annoyance flickering across her face.

But she adjusted quickly, a smile even gracing her features. She’d been a star for so many years; she knew full well what her biggest advantage was.

“So what?” She tilted her sharp chin upward.

“Sister,” Rong Yin said, her pretty, peach-blossom eyes fixed on Lu Zhi with a teasing and triumphant mirth, like a little fox. “I’m better-looking than Zhou Mingming.”

Lu Zhi raised an eyebrow and laughed.

It was true. In the kaleidoscopic world of entertainment, a beautiful face could effortlessly outmatch the talent of ninety percent of people.

The Q&D shoot was scheduled across indoor and outdoor locations, taking about three days. Today was primarily for the indoor set. Their product line targeted young office workers and college students, so the clothing consisted mainly of simple, business-casual basics, matched with extremely natural, understated makeup.

Lu Zhi watched as the makeup artist used a brow pencil to draw fine, hair-like strokes to shape the feathered arch of the brow.

Because it was a no-makeup makeup look, Rong Yin’s face needed hardly any work from the artist. She was a beauty with excellent bone structure, her features as delicate as a meticulously carved work of art. Her skin, maintained well through years of dietary habits, had a fine, porcelain-white undertone. With just a light dusting of foundation, she looked as though a beauty filter had been applied solely to her amidst a crowd.

The only thing was her eyebrows. They’d been tweezed a bit too long and thin for a previous role, so to fit the brand’s theme, they required slight grooming.

The makeup artist soon stopped, consulted with the photographer, and immediately sent Rong Yin for test shots.

After a set of photos, the artist used a thin eyeliner pencil to elongate the already slightly upturned outer corners of Rong Yin’s eyes by another two millimeters.

Then, under the magnified and sharpened lens, Rong Yin’s dark eyes, as though holding a crescent moon, gazed at the world with a detached and alluring aura.

Lu Zhi had to admire the professional artist’s precise, sharp aesthetic sense—that one touch instantly elevated the final shots by entire tiers.

It was past seven in the evening when Lu Zhi still had to go to dinner with Q&D’s promotion director, who had dropped by mid-shoot. Rong Yin was so exhausted she couldn’t even lift her hands.

Lu Zhi sent an assistant to take her home, then took the other assistant to the engagement herself. At a private kitchen restaurant, the discussions lasted until after ten o’clock before wrapping up.

And yet, at two in the morning, Lu Zhi received a phone call from Rong Yin. The voice on the other end was barely a whisper.

“I think I’ve been poisoned…”

Lu Zhi had recently requested a car from the company. She drove over as fast as a shooting star at midnight.

Walking in, the first thing she saw was the coffee table littered with colorful snack bags—chips, spicy strips, cookies, chocolates… along with iced cola, fried chicken, and a hamburger with just a few bites taken out.

Rong Yin was wearing a black nightgown, crouched in the depths of the sofa like a broody hen. Her small face was ghastly pale, her lips nearly colorless, her brows furrowed, and a few beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her pitiful appearance was, admittedly, quite endearing.

Lu Zhi glanced at her, then sat down across from her with a blank expression. She reached out and poked through the dazzling array of snacks on the table. Every single bag was open, but not much had actually been eaten. It probably wasn’t that she didn’t want to—her stomach had simply shrunk after years of being starved and couldn’t handle it anymore.

Zhuang Jie had controlled Rong Yin’s figure and weight with an iron fist, feeding her like a rabbit, day in and day out. If there was meat, it was mostly chicken breast. After a year or two of that, her stomach simply could not accept these greasy, stimulating foods. The one time Lu Zhi took her for hot pot, she’d only let her have a few bites from the tomato broth.

Recklessly indulging in private like this—puking and diarrhea were exactly what she deserved.

Rong Yin knew she was in the wrong and didn’t dare meet Lu Zhi’s eyes. Her long eyelashes hung low, both hands pressing against her stomach. She whimpered miserably a couple of times before timidly asking, “What do we do… do we need to go to the hospital…?”

Getting caught eating junk food to the point of needing a hospital visit—if that got out, netizens would laugh their heads off.

Lu Zhi was practically angered into a laugh by this self-destructive behavior.

Hearing Lu Zhi’s silence, Rong Yin lifted her dark eyes to sneak a careful peek at her, like a cat testing its owner’s mood after causing trouble.

Lu Zhi suppressed the surge of irritation inside her, pinched the bridge of her nose, and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of warm water, dissolving some salt and sugar into it.

“Drink up,” Lu Zhi said, placing the glass in the girl’s hand before reaching out to pick up the car keys from the coffee table.

Seeing Lu Zhi’s unmoved, steely expression, Rong Yin thought she was about to be abandoned. She immediately grabbed Lu Zhi’s wrist. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears from the severe pain, looked at Lu Zhi urgently. “Don’t go…”

Lu Zhi sighed. “I’m going to get you some medicine.”

“Oh.” Rong Yin let go, cradling the glass and watching Lu Zhi leave the door with hopeful eyes.

Lu Zhi found the nearest 24-hour pharmacy on the map and bought stomach medicine along with some basic household first-aid supplies. The round trip took the better part of an hour.

Compared to a normal person’s appetite, Rong Yin hadn’t eaten that much, but her reaction was severe. After another bout of gut-wrenching torment, she lay in bed, looking as drained as a crabapple blossom beaten by frost.

Lu Zhi mixed an electrolyte powder packet into a warm drink and cradled her head while helping her drink it.

Rong Yin asked weakly, “Is the shoot still on for tomorrow?”

“What do you think?” Lu Zhi set the glass on the nightstand.

“Sigh…” Rong Yin sighed, shifting under the covers, curling onto her side into a small bundle.

Lu Zhi’s anger had mostly dissipated in the face of such a miserable state. She pressed a hand over the thin silk blanket against Rong Yin’s abdomen. “Still hurting badly?”

Rong Yin gave a muffled “Mm.” The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm halo on her face. Her thick, curled eyelashes were clearly defined, some wet and clumped together from tears of pain, both beautiful and fragile. Her delicate, slightly upturned nose was tinted pink at the tip. Her perfectly shaped lips were bitten into an unnatural, bruised red by her small teeth.

Lu Zhi watched her for a moment, then suddenly slipped her hand under the blanket, gently placing it over the other girl’s lower belly. Under Rong Yin’s gaze, quivering like cicada wings, she said calmly, “A little massage should help.”

Rong Yin stared at her, dumbstruck, then said dazedly, “Your hands are so warm.”

Only then did Lu Zhi offer the first faint smile of the night.

Having just held the hot glass, her palm’s temperature was naturally higher than normal body heat.

She adjusted her sitting position, resting a knee on the bed, and leaned over to look at Rong Yin’s exquisite face. Under the blanket, her fingers pushed aside the thin layer of the nightgown, her palm applying gentle pressure, kneading the soft, smooth skin of the girl’s belly.

Rong Yin’s waist trembled. The bare skin-to-skin contact after the removal of that fabric clearly made her a bit uncomfortable, but she quickly closed her eyes in relaxation.

“Does that feel good?” Lu Zhi asked gently, her other hand gently brushing away the hair sticking to the girl’s neck.

Rong Yin gave a delayed “Mm,” a tiny nasal tone in her voice. Under Lu Zhi’s soothing touch, her body slowly unfurled from its curled-up state.