Chapter 2

◎Such Long… Legs◎

“Isn’t he handsome?” The girl noticed Jiang Wanxing looking at the phone screen and immediately asked excitedly.

Jiang Wanxing nodded in agreement.

“I heard a lot of female celebrities in your circle like Xiao Re—is that true? It must be, right? He’s so charming, who wouldn’t like him!”

Jiang Wanxing didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t really interested in the entertainment industry, and the name was only vaguely familiar—probably just something she’d seen trending often.

Fortunately, the girls didn’t care about her answer and went on talking to themselves.

“I heard his parents are both CEOs, and he’s just playing around in showbiz. He’ll eventually go back to inherit the family business. That can’t be true, right?”

“They say you’re not familiar with Xiao Re…”

“Well, maybe you’ve heard a little bit—after all, it’s the same circle…”

The two girls went back and forth, arguing.

“Meals are ready, meals are ready,” the shop owner came out just in time to break the tension, bringing out three meals—two for here and one to go. When handing Jiang Wanxing her food, he casually reminded her, “Extra scallions and cilantro, double portion, packed separately.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Wanxing took the food, stood up, and said to the two girls, “I have to go now, I still have work this afternoon.”

“Okay, bye, sister,” the two immediately behaved obediently, sweetly saying, “Good luck with your work, hope your new drama becomes a hit.”

Jiang Wanxing smiled at them and turned to leave.

She drove to a quiet park nearby to eat her lunch. Thinking about the girls’ last words, she chuckled self-deprecatingly—her “new drama becoming a hit“? With her current fame, just securing steady roles would be a blessing.

Because it’s widely known the entertainment industry makes money fast, it’s especially quick to replace people. Jiang Wanxing entered the industry at eighteen and was now twenty-five. To ordinary people, she was in the prime of youth, but in showbiz she was already considered an older sister generation. Seven years without a big break meant no one in the industry thought she was worth cultivating anymore.

Male actors might have a “late bloomer” chance, but for actresses, becoming popular in middle age was extremely rare—practically no reference point. What awaited them was the frequently criticized roles on TV: nagging mothers and aunts who pressured younger women to marry and have kids, gossiping for no reason.

Jiang Wanxing could clearly see what her future held, so what she needed to do now was seize every opportunity to make money and make her life easier down the road. This was also why she tolerated those idiotic peers and worked hard to maintain the image of a gentle, kind, innocent “little white flower.”

Halfway through her meal, her phone rang. Jiang Wanxing took it out and saw it was her agent, Zhou Jiayan. The text was brief: “Finished? When will you be back at the office?”

“I’m on my way back,” Jiang Wanxing typed in reply, quickly packed up the unfinished food and threw it away, wiped her lips clean, and drove toward the company.

Her agency was called Xiang Wei. It wasn’t well-known in the industry and was a small company, but the boss was skillful and well-connected, so there were still plenty of work opportunities—just not high-end ones.

She took the elevator up to the eighth floor, pushed open the glass door, and saw Zhou Jiayan sitting at her desk organizing papers. Zhou Jiayan looked up and, recognizing Jiang Wanxing, quickly pulled out a sheet from a stack. “Here’s the schedule for the week. Take a look. Let me know if you have any comments.”

Zhou Jiayan was the company’s right-hand person—the most influential figure after the boss. She was capable, managed seven or eight artists, and earned their respect.

Jiang Wanxing was among the most obedient of them all. She took the paper, awkwardly pulled over a chair, sat down, and began reading carefully.

“What’s wrong?” Zhou Jiayan suddenly asked, staring at her.

“Nothing much, just a slight twist in my waist,” Jiang Wanxing replied casually, shaking the paper in her hand, then asked, “For this afternoon’s beauty endorsement and beverage promotion, do I have to choose one? I think I can squeeze both in.”

Zhou frowned, thinking for a moment. “Did something happen during the morning shoot?”

Jiang Wanxing shook her head. “No, it’s just that the last scene took eight takes.”

Zhou Jiayan was silent for a moment, typed something into her phone, then decided, “Afternoon work is canceled. You should go to the hospital and get some scans.”

“No, please,” Jiang Wanxing immediately refused. “I’m fine, I can walk and jump. It’s tens of thousands of yuan—I’d hate to miss it.”

“And what then? Pay the production millions in breach penalties?” Zhou Jiayan’s expression turned cold as she stared at Jiang Wanxing. “Ignoring a waist injury, dragging it out, delaying important work at a critical moment—should I praise your professionalism or scold you for being shortsighted and risking your health just to make money?”

“It’s not that serious,” Jiang Wanxing muttered quietly but didn’t argue back. She lowered her head and focused on the schedule.

“Use your scans as a ticket to rearrange your work,” Zhou Jiayan said firmly, leaving no room for refusal. “I need to adjust your schedule based on your physical condition…”

“Sister Jiayan, I don’t want to play Yue Shuyu!” A clear female voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. Jiang Wanxing looked up and saw the owner of the voice pushing open the door.

Wang Yaqing—her junior in the same agency—was also managed by Zhou Jiayan.

“Why not?” Zhou Jiayan closed her pen and folded her hands, looking at Wang Yaqing.

“… I—I’m afraid I won’t do well,” Wang Yaqing glanced at Jiang Wanxing beside her, her eyes pausing for two seconds on Jiang Wanxing’s outfit. Then she quickly straightened her back, casually adjusted the pearl necklace on her neck, and subtly revealed the new diamond watch on her wrist before saying, “Acting opposite Luo Ming makes me nervous.”

“Oh?” Zhou Jiayan looked at her calmly.

“Well, there are other reasons too,” Wang Yaqing said, pouting. “I just played a villain in my last role and got badly scolded. People are still chasing me down in the comments on Weibo. This new character is even worse—and opposite such a popular actor like Luo Ming? I’m afraid his fans will tear me apart.”

She fluttered her eyes in a show of pitiful innocence, her lips shimmering with gloss.

“But didn’t you really want this role before?” Zhou Jiayan asked, staring at her.

“… That was before I properly read the script,” Wang Yaqing mumbled guiltily, then began to act coy. “Besides, I haven’t signed a contract yet. Let’s just drop this one.”

Zhou Jiayan said nothing, just stared at her. Wang Yaqing grew nervous and suddenly pointed to Jiang Wanxing, who had been sitting quietly. “Let Senior Wanxing take it! Didn’t she just wrap up her last project today? She can take over this one right away.”

Of course Jiang Wanxing knew Wang Yaqing wasn’t being generous. But she also understood the real reason Wang Yaqing was backing out—because the role wasn’t just a villain, but an ugly villain. Playing someone unattractive or older was absolutely off-limits for Wang Yaqing.

Wang Yaqing was actually 26, a year older than Jiang Wanxing. But since she entered the industry two years later, she had to call Jiang Wanxing her “senior.” She was petite, with delicate features, and marketed herself as a fresh, pure “white moonlight” type. Regardless of whether her characters were good or bad, they always looked pure and elegant, like a lotus flower.

“I don’t mind,” Jiang Wanxing looked at Zhou Jiayan. Glancing at her schedule, she saw that the next week was just filled with small promotional gigs. The next drama wasn’t even locked in yet—though something would probably come eventually, it likely wouldn’t be a big role. But the role Wang Yaqing was giving up? The male lead was a hotshot idol, which meant plenty of buzz. Her character had lots of scenes with him, so the pay wouldn’t be bad either.

“You’re amazing, Senior,” Wang Yaqing said with a sigh of relief, immediately buttering her up. “You’re so pretty and such a great actress. Now that you’ll be working with Luo Ming, I just know you’ll blow up!”

Then why don’t you take the role, if it’s such a golden opportunity?

Jiang Wanxing didn’t show her thoughts on her face, only forced a polite smile.

“Did I say you could take it?” Zhou Jiayan’s tone suddenly turned cold. She shot a glare at Wang Yaqing, then fixed her eyes on Jiang Wanxing. “Go to the hospital first. Don’t come back without those scans!”

With no choice, Jiang Wanxing obediently went to get checked out. Fortunately, nothing was broken—just a muscle strain, which explained the sharp pain. The doctor massaged her back with medicinal wine, told her to apply warm compresses daily, and promised she’d be fine within a week.

Jiang Wanxing sent the update to Zhou Jiayan, who didn’t say much else, only told her to come to the office to discuss the script Wang Yaqing had turned down.

Only then did Jiang Wanxing learn that it was an ^[1]xianxia drama is a Chinese fantasy genre based on Taoist mythology, immortality cultivation, martial arts, and supernatural beings. It often features characters training to become immortals, using … Continue readingxianxia drama called “Song of the Immortal Caves” (Dongxian Ge). The role Wang Yaqing rejected was named Yue Shuyu—indeed a villain. She was the male lead’s martial aunt. Early on, she was gentle and caring toward the young male lead, but later revealed her true colors: she killed her husband and framed the male lead for it, all to drive the exceptionally gifted protagonist into a desperate situation so she could win him over emotionally and use him for her own ambitions—eventually rising to the pinnacle of power.

Although a villain, the character had both ambition and emotional depth—a well-rounded role. Jiang Wanxing was very pleased. As she read the script, she smiled and said, “So she gets disfigured later on—that explains why Wang Yaqing wouldn’t take it.”

And not just that. The actor playing the male lead, Luo Ming, was in his thirties. Since he’d be playing a disciple, his martial aunt would naturally be styled more maturely—something Wang Yaqing would absolutely refuse.

The audition was scheduled two days later. Jiang Wanxing stayed up late reading the script, carefully analyzing the character’s motivations and emotional arc. During the audition, she delivered a flawless performance of one of the key scenes, leaving even the demanding director with no criticisms.

Everything went smoothly. All that was left was to wait for filming to begin in a week.

On Friday afternoon, Jiang Wanxing went to a commercial center to attend a branding event for a tea beverage company. She was required to wear a celadon-colored traditional Chinese outfit and a sash.

It looked good—very elegant—but it also made her look a bit like a tea-serving hostess. Just as she finished dressing and stepped out, she saw a group of staff at the front desk hurriedly packing things up.

“What’s going on?” she asked, puzzled.

A coordinator rushed over to explain, “Today’s event is canceled. The venue’s been booked last minute by a celebrity.”

A celebrity? Aren’t I one already?

Realizing the implication too late, the coordinator quickly apologized, “Sorry, sorry—we heard it’s someone really famous. They booked the entire venue, and even brought twenty bodyguards. Even if we held our event, no one would be paying attention.”

Jiang Wanxing nodded in understanding and asked the only question she cared about, “Then my appearance fee…”

“You’ll still get it, definitely,” the coordinator assured her. “It’s not your fault. We’ll pay the full amount as agreed.”

Getting paid without having to do the work—Jiang Wanxing was perfectly satisfied. She waved casually, “Alright, you guys go ahead, don’t worry about me.”

She watched as a swarm of security guards in black uniforms rushed past. Barricades were quickly set up. Lighting crews and camera operators wheeled in their equipment.

Just who was this major celebrity?

Jiang Wanxing glanced over twice, then turned to head backstage to change out of her outfit. But when she got there, she found the area had been surrounded.

…She lifted her long legs, ready to step over the barrier, when a burly security guard stopped her with a shout: “What are you doing?”

Jiang Wanxing: “Stepping over.”

Guard: “…What are you trying to do? You’re not allowed back there.”

Jiang Wanxing: “Why not? I need to go change.”

Guard: “Our guest is getting makeup done backstage. Outsiders aren’t allowed in for now.”

Jiang Wanxing: “I’m not going to see your guest. I just want to change my clothes.”

The guard looked her up and down. “You look good. Just keep it on. Change in thirty minutes.”

Jiang Wanxing usually kept a friendly persona in public, but this time the other party was clearly being unreasonable—she wasn’t about to back down. “I—”

She had barely spoken a word when suddenly, a deafening roar of screaming erupted behind her. The overwhelming sound surged through the building like a tidal wave.

Startled, Jiang Wanxing turned to look and saw the glass doors of the building thrown open. A massive crowd of people poured in, screaming at the top of their lungs.

What the hell—why are there so many people?!

There was no time to do anything else. Trapped in the center of the lobby, she was swept forward by the crushing tide of people, straight to the front row of the stage.

Shoulder to shoulder, heels stomping on toes, ears assaulted by ear-splitting screams that felt like they were piercing her eardrums—Jiang Wanxing thought she was going to go deaf.

Then, the stage sound system kicked on. A pounding rhythm and a rhythmic countdown lit the entire room ablaze with excitement.

Everyone’s eyes burned with fanaticism, waiting for their idol to make his grand entrance. Caught in the middle of the crowd, Jiang Wanxing’s face turned pale as ash as she struggled to pull her toes free from the crush of bodies around her.

Today’s appearance fee was basically payment for this suffering—great, she didn’t get a single advantage out of it.

She covered her ears and sighed over her miserable luck with money.

A nearby screaming girl noticed her, poked her shoulder, and loudly shouted, “Are you wearing that outfit to get Xiao X’s attention?”

Jiang Wanxing didn’t catch the full name, so she shook her head.

The girl waved her DSLR camera at her, “Why didn’t you bring anything? Not taking pictures?”

Jiang Wanxing shook her head again.

The girl immediately handed her the camera, “Then help me take pictures. I’ll pay you a thousand yuan.”

Jiang Wanxing’s eyes lit up at the mention of money.

She instinctively wanted to agree but hesitated, thinking about her public image. Making money off a minor—what would that say? The girl didn’t know who she was now, but if later recognized on TV, it might reflect badly on her.

She tearfully refused, but seeing the girl’s disappointed face, she finally agreed to take pictures for free.

Anyway, she couldn’t get out now, so better to pass the time—and if that girl later recognized her on screen, it’d make a nice story.

The girl immediately brightened and sweetly said, “Sister, you really are beautiful and kind-hearted.”

But can being beautiful and kind-hearted earn money? Jiang Wanxing sighed inwardly and lifted the camera.

The countdown ended, and the host stopped speaking. Everyone held their breath and stared toward the backstage entrance leading to the stage.

Jiang Wanxing caught the excitement and focused her gaze that way too.

Soon, a tall figure appeared: deep blue hair tips like drifting smoke, prominent browbones, thick eyelashes spreading like black feathers, and black irises crystal-clear like polished gems.

His lashes lifted lightly, instantly capturing countless hearts.

Such long… legs.

Jiang Wanxing thought to herself.