Chapter 1: Rebirth

Cheng Jinzhi woke up feeling utterly ruined. She forced open her left eye, already dreading how she’d deal with the reporters. When she opened her right eye, all she felt was a numbing ache at the base of her skull—not the kind of pain from a car accident, but the dizzying aftermath of a hangover.

Strange.

She reached out, but instead of a hospital call button, her hand met slick, bare skin. Her brain lagged as her hand instinctively explored. Wait… no clothes?

Before she could process it, her wrist was caught. The grip was firm, trembling slightly, then quickly released. “Master…”

The voice was familiar. A name flickered through her mind—that person… How was that possible?

The woman leaned in close, her warm breath inches away. She pressed a kiss to the corner of Cheng Jinzhi’s lips. “Good morning.”

The curtains were drawn tight, leaving the room dim. Cheng Jinzhi swallowed hard.

The woman beside her got out of bed, naked, and picked up the white sheet draped over the sofa, wrapping her slender figure in it. Cheng Jinzhi propped herself up on her elbows, opening her mouth to speak, but the woman had already disappeared into the bathroom. The bathroom light clicked on, spilling warm tones into the bedroom. A thought struck Cheng Jinzhi, and she turned on the bedside lamp. The light bloomed along the bed—a garish, flashy color. Who was it who said that only Cheng Jinzhi would turn her own home into a nightclub?

Cheng Jinzhi looked around the room. Clothes were scattered everywhere, and beside the bed were some things best left undescribed. She jumped out of bed naked, but before she could reach the curtains, the emerging woman caught her wrist again. The woman was a head taller, her lips pressed into a serious line. “There are reporters outside.”

In the dim light, Cheng Jinzhi finally got a clear look at the woman’s face. Her breath hitched. The woman quickly drew the curtains shut, plunging them back into shadow. Cheng Jinzhi’s eyes had already adjusted to the gloom. “Rong… Rong Si?”

Rong Si. Who was she? A dazzling Best Actress whose star had soared, who’d retired at the peak of her career to go into business, only to return to the silver screen as a legendary investor. Even in the entertainment circle, she was the gold standard of a “winner in life.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was still crisp and clear, just slightly younger.

The Rong Si before her had the same exquisite face, but her brow carried less regal composure and more youthful vigor.

Cheng Jinzhi pinched her own arm. Was she still asleep? Why was she dreaming about Rong Si—and Rong Si from years ago at that? Could it be because she’d seen her in the news a few days ago? Thinking about her by day makes you dream of her by night?

Rong Si seemed used to Cheng Jinzhi’s dramatics. “I’ll make breakfast. Master, would you like some?”

“I…” God. Rong Si was going to cook for her. “Yes, let me go freshen up.”

In the mirror was a face showing signs of fatigue. Cheng Jinzhi covered her face with both hands, leaving only a pair of disbelieving eyes exposed. This was her face—or more precisely, her face from her early twenties. Another thought struck her. She reached back to feel her spine. It was perfectly smooth. She turned and looked at her back in the mirror.

She remembered filming a martial arts film two years ago and getting injured. By then she’d already gone bankrupt and delayed the scar removal surgery, leaving several hideous scars across her back. But now, her back was smooth and flawless, without a single mark.

“Master?” A pleasant voice accompanied a knock at the door.

“Mm, I’m coming out.” Her voice was still trembling slightly. She turned off the faucet.

Rong Si had pan-fried a steak for her. Cheng Jinzhi sat down at her spot and glanced at Rong Si’s plate. Rong Si had only taken some salad from the counter. She ate very little.

“You’re eating too little.” Cheng Jinzhi couldn’t live without meat, and Rong Si knew her tastes.

Cheng Jinzhi cut off a large piece of steak and placed it on Rong Si’s plate. “Eat it.”

Rong Si lifted her eyelids and glanced at Cheng Jinzhi. “Mm.”

Cheng Jinzhi bit into the beef on her fork. The familiar taste explosion confirmed it—she had been reborn, sent back twenty years to when she and Rong Si still had… “entanglements.” Soon, a porcelain white plate appeared beside her hand, the steak on it already cut into small pieces. Cheng Jinzhi looked up at Rong Si beside her. Rong Si hadn’t touched the steak Cheng Jinzhi had given her; instead, she’d cut up Cheng Jinzhi’s. Her expression unchanged, Rong Si dabbed her lips with a napkin. “I’m full.”

Rong Si didn’t want to touch her steak. Cheng Jinzhi looked down at the neatly sliced pieces. Rong Si had excellent knife skills. Cheng Jinzhi thought that if Rong Si had a choice, she’d probably rather have her cutting skills directed at Cheng Jinzhi herself rather than at a steak. The current Rong Si must absolutely hate her.

Cheng Jinzhi set down her knife and fork, looking up at Rong Si across the room as she washed dishes with her head bowed. If this was truly twenty years ago, then Rong Si was… eighteen or nineteen? Cheng Jinzhi remembered this year. This was the year the Rong family went bankrupt, when Rong Si’s parents jumped to their deaths one after another, leaving behind only Rong Si and her younger brother Rong Zhan—along with a mountain of debt.

After finishing her meal, Cheng Jinzhi carried her plate into the kitchen. Rong Si grabbed the plate from her hand just as she turned on the silver faucet.

“I’ll wash…” Cheng Jinzhi started.

Rong Si’s expression was strained as she snatched the plate away. “Master, go rest.”

“You don’t have to call me… Master…” In her previous life, Cheng Jinzhi had been smooth sailing and arrogant. It was she who had made Rong Si call her “Master” in the first place.

The moment the words left her mouth, Rong Si turned off the faucet and looked up at her. “Do you want to take it back?”

“No…” It had been too long since she’d seen that expression on Rong Si’s face. Cheng Jinzhi froze. “Of course I won’t.”

She and Rong Si had a deal. Cheng Jinzhi gave Rong Si roles, and Rong Si agreed to sleep with her. At the time, Cheng Jinzhi was a junior in the acting department at Jingying, from a wealthy family with no worries about food or clothing, dreaming of stardom since childhood. She’d known of Rong Si for a long time. When Rong Si was only sixteen, she’d stolen the show at a tycoon’s salon—exquisite features, remarkable eloquence, the standout of her generation. Cheng Jinzhi had approached Rong Si with every intention of “toying” with her. Back then, Cheng Jinzhi just wanted to string Rong Si along, and Rong Si got lucky—Cheng Jinzhi happened to have a lesbian film script in her hands. The director was a rising star in art films, and Cheng Jinzhi had pulled strings to get it. At the time, she was still pursuing a popular young flower actress and had offered it up like a treasure. But the girl found too many nude scenes and rejected it, so Cheng Jinzhi tossed it to Rong Si instead.

Who would’ve thought Rong Si, relying on that film which only circulated online, would capture the attention of young netizens? With her exquisite looks, heaven-given acting talent, and natural audience appeal, offers started pouring in. Some people, even at rock bottom, don’t stay there long. Every stumbling block becomes a stepping stone for their leap. Born dealers.

“I hope you’ll keep your promise.” Rong Si lowered her head and continued washing the dishes.

Cheng Jinzhi’s feelings toward Rong Si were complicated. After her family went bankrupt and she was framed—someone had tossed a bag of heroin into her luggage—she’d made plenty of enemies in the industry from stealing roles and overbooking schedules. The media made her the cautionary tale, even using her story to curry favor with Rong Si, asking for her opinion.

“She wouldn’t.” Rong Si had said only that.

In the face of overwhelming negative press, Rong Si’s single statement left the assembled media exchanging dumbfounded looks. Later, the police cleared Cheng Jinzhi and released her. All those stars she’d been close with said nothing, not a word. It was her sworn enemy who spoke up for her. Rong Si knew Cheng Jinzhi had an actress dream and wouldn’t ruin her body with drugs.

Cheng Jinzhi was jealous of Rong Si. Hard work can compensate for lack of talent, but some things in acting require natural gift. Rong Si, blessed with talent, wasn’t as passionate about acting as Cheng Jinzhi. In a way, Rong Si was just using her star status as a springboard. Cheng Jinzhi studied Rong Si’s profile. It was stunning—the high bridge of her nose gave her face striking dimension.

Perhaps it was her cool, aloof temperament that made the exquisite Rong Si seem less flashy on screen. Compared to Rong Si, Cheng Jinzhi was lavishly beautiful, her naturally extravagant aura making her look domineering—and basically disqualifying her from ingénue leading roles. Cheng Jinzhi had played female leads before, but her acting was too flat, and combined with her aggressive PR team, her public image was terrible.

Ten years to sharpen a single sword; by the time she’d finally developed some skill, she’d already passed the most critical stage for a female star. Just the other day, an idol drama had come to her about playing the male lead’s mother. The male lead’s mother? Unbelievable. In her youth, she’d only found fame through two vicious supporting roles, and as she aged, she transitioned straight into evil mother-in-laws. Especially when she saw news about Rong Si, Cheng Jinzhi’s heart constricted. These past days, she’d been contacting a big director about auditioning for the female lead’s… mother. Then she learned the director had invited Rong Si out of “retirement” to play the eighteen-year-old female lead.

Before the car accident, Cheng Jinzhi was heading to the production crew’s dinner, mentally rehearsing how she’d greet Rong Si. But the driver, Old Zhou, dozed off, hit a roadblock, and the car rolled.

“Why did you take so long to answer?”

The caller ID showed Xia You. Cheng Jinzhi froze—her college classmate.

“Where are you?”

Cheng Jinzhi looked around the layout. A split-level circular hall, kitchen facing north with a north balcony, dining area facing south with a south balcony. This was her apartment in… Moscow?

“Forget it, I’ll just tell you the essentials. You missed Teacher Wu’s class, and he’s reported it to the grade office.”

The unfamiliar campus days were awakened by one familiar name after another. Teacher Wu—Wu Yi—the renowned martial arts action director. Back then, when Cheng Jinzhi had no roles and was idle at home, it was Teacher Wu Yi who called her to help out. Of course, that was also the film that got her injured, leaving those hideous scars on her back. The props team had screwed up, and Cheng Jinzhi certainly didn’t blame Teacher Wu Yi. Later, he pulled her into Embroidered Uniform Guard, overriding all objections to cast her as the female lead. But just as filming began, Teacher Wu Yi died of a sudden heart attack, and the project was shelved. When news of the film restarting came out, Cheng Jinzhi saw it on her phone—the female lead had been replaced with a newcomer. Clearly, she’d been quietly swapped out.

“Students these days, thinking about fame from morning to night, but their acting is a mess…”

Returning to campus, Cheng Jinzhi heard Teacher Wu Yi’s scolding voice before she even entered the office.

“Reporting. Cheng Jinzhi, Acting Department.”

Acting Department. Cheng Jinzhi.

A long-missed designation. Cheng Jinzhi repeated it silently to herself.