Chapter 1: The Goddess Would Rather Break Than Bend

Ten years ago.

In B City, at a remote suburban film studio area, the Beauty Light crew bustled about.

Busy staff members hurried back and forth, preparing for the next scene.

The props master called out, “Come help set up the platform!”

Leng Xiang sat in the makeup room as the makeup artist carefully applied her makeup.

She was only fifteen, tender like a new bamboo shoot after spring rain, still carrying the fresh scent of green grass.

At that time, Leng Xiang’s features hadn’t fully matured, differing somewhat from the stunningly cold and glamorous film queen she would become later, but her fair little face already showed the budding beauty of a future stunner.

Her nose bridge was high and straight, her lips thin, painted with a watery red shade that made them look plump and enticing. Her skin was fair and dewy, soft to the touch, her features exquisite. With her head lowered and brows furrowed, she looked utterly pitiable.

Her most beautiful feature was her eyes, like peach blossoms. A single glance sent ripples of light through them, enough to melt one’s bones.

The makeup artist put away the eyeliner brush, and Leng Xiang slowly opened her eyes, looking into the mirror.

Her eyes were like autumn waters, shimmering with light.

Every smile and frown conveyed deep emotion.

The platform was ready, and a staff member came to call her.

Leng Xiang straightened her elaborate, heavy costume and walked out.

Three cameras followed closely beside her. She wore a bright red long skirt costume—the purest shade of red—but it couldn’t dim her radiance in the slightest. She walked slowly onto the prepared palace hall set, elevated like a jade pavilion. From the ground to the palace entrance, the steps wound in triple folds, leading to that secluded inner sanctum.

On the second level’s landing, a circular stage had been marked out, with a massive red drum standing in the center.

Leng Xiang stepped in time with the drumbeats, her pace slow and resolute. With lowered brows, her eyes brimmed with autumnal charm; when raised, they held a hint of shyness. Every restrained glance brimmed with affection. She mounted the red drum, and the beats suddenly quickened.

She raised her wrist, lowered her gaze, and flicked her sleeve—the drum responded in perfect harmony.

Her jade sleeves whipped up wind. Her bright red attire spun into the world’s most bewitching red lotus, now slow, now fast, skirts flying, face like blooming peach blossoms.

One smile captivated the masses.

The crew stared in stunned silence.

Someone whispered, “Hey, this little beauty is right up my alley.”

The person next to him scoffed, “Forget it. She’s got sky-high standards—you’ll just get pricked.”

Another disagreed, “That’s what makes the chase fun.”

This was Leng Xiang’s first role: the young version of the female lead in the grand palace intrigue drama Beauty Light.

Once the scene wrapped, several assistants rushed over with tea, water, coats, and towels.

It was the depths of winter, and even after draping on the coat an assistant handed her, Leng Xiang still shivered uncontrollably.

The scalding tea made her flinch, her brows knitting tightly, even her delicate lips sharpening into edges that seemed ready to cut.

Yet even like this, Leng Xiang was breathtaking. Her peach blossom eyes were large and almond-shaped, tails upturned, carrying an innate arrogance. A mere squint or arched brow swept fiercely into her temples.

Leng Xiang had been scouted at fourteen and entered the entertainment industry, signing a fifteen-year contract with Excellence Media.

She underwent professional acting training at Excellence Media. Smart, eager to learn, diligent, and grounded, she had only her arrogance as a flaw.

At fifteen, Excellence Media placed her in the cast of their major period drama Beauty Light, where she played the female lead’s younger self, spanning the first ten episodes. Though her acting retained some youthful rawness, it was commendable.

Combined with her stunning looks, she exploded in fame nationwide alongside Beauty Light’s broadcast.

Her starting line was drawn far ahead of others.

At fifteen, Leng Xiang shot to stardom overnight with her Beauty Light role, winning the Golden Deer Award for Best Supporting Actress in a TV Series that very year. Her path was paved with glory.

Riding high, Leng Xiang grew somewhat arrogant, but the industry praised her as a rare talent blending acting prowess and beauty.

Her youth meant few held it against her.

Her future stretched endlessly—if no mishaps occurred, her prospects were limitless.

Later, she starred in the family light comedy Beijing Small Home, earning widespread acclaim. After that, she landed several TV drama leads, achieving solid success.

She caught a golden era. With Excellence Media short on fresh talent, they invested heavily in grooming and promoting her.

She brushed past the film queen title several times before claiming acting’s highest honor in her sixth year.

She shone at her peak, red-hot and untouchable—until decline followed.

The year after her crowning, her luck ran dry. Scripts grew worse, and several productions lost funding midway, money down the drain.

Worse still, rumors swirled of a clash with Excellence Media’s top brass. The haughty Leng Xiang reportedly fought physically with the executive, both injured.

Furniture and tables smashed everywhere, the executive slamming the desk in fury: “You’ll never work in this industry again!”

Leng Xiang stormed out.

Then family lawsuits drained her. She sold her house, squandered her savings.

Endless blacklisting followed.

The media turned vicious. From fifteen onward, she’d basked in praise; now, for the first time, she faced a torrent of abuse.

Tabloids claimed affairs with multiple men, dirtied her family origins, questioning how such a young girl entered the industry. Nothing was off-limits.

She plummeted from glory into the abyss, never seeing daylight again.

Ten years later.

Leng Xiang awoke groggily from a deep haze. Outside, torrential rain poured, streams sliding down the windowpanes. Some seeped into the sill—the window wasn’t fully shut—and a chill seeped through the cracks, piercing to the bone.

Leng Xiang wiped her face, rose to secure the window, shutting out the world.

The room was familiar: an old wardrobe thick with dust, bed and floor in disarray, quilt tangled, walls spotted with mold that reeked unpleasantly in the rain.

She closed the window and sat dazed on the bed. The dream had replayed her past life, yet felt like another lifetime entirely.

She raked her hair, chuckling self-mockingly.

At twenty-five, a decade in the industry, she’d hit rock bottom—pitifully so.