Chapter 1

◎Blinding White◎

“Bang bang bang bang bang!” Rapid gunfire echoed across the empty rooftop.

The police downstairs held a megaphone, shouting up to the stubborn armed robber resisting on the rooftop, “Drop your weapon, you have nowhere left to run.”

The female robber was unmoved, instead, she swept a burst of bullets toward the direction of the voice, with a very arrogant attitude.

Another SWAT team quietly circled around to the side of the criminal and approached silently. The robber seemed to sense something, turned around to raise her gun—only to be accurately shot in the chest by a policeman behind her. She staggered and fell off the rooftop.

“Cut!” the director shouted, “The final expression was wrong, again!”

Jiang Wanxing, the “female robber” sporting a big afro and smoky makeup, struggled to get up from the foam mat, holding the prop submachine gun in one hand and pressing her waist with the other. She nodded obediently, “Okay, director.”

“Cut! Your posture is wrong. Face the camera directly. Again!”

“Cut! Your movement was half a beat slow. Again!”

“Cut! What’s going on with that makeup? We can’t even see your face! Makeup team, makeup team!”

Makeup artist Sister Zhang hurried over, holding powder and a small brush, quickly touching up Jiang Wanxing’s makeup.

“Thank you, Sister Zhang,” Jiang Wanxing smiled apologetically in a low voice, “We’ve redone this so many times, I’ve messed up your makeup.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not your fault,” Sister Zhang said as she hurriedly wiped Jiang Wanxing’s face with a wet wipe, lowering her voice. “That guy’s been scolded by the investor for slow work producing rubbish, the last movie even got pulled from theaters. He’s got nowhere to vent his anger. Xiao Jiang, you’re just unlucky.”

Jiang Wanxing smiled unconcernedly, “The director’s under pressure, a bit of temper is normal.”

Sister Zhang shook her head disapprovingly, “It’s only because you have a good personality. If it were someone else, they would have quit by now.”

Who shoots a jump-off-the-building scene so many times? Does he think people are made of steel?

Jiang Wanxing said nothing, letting Sister Zhang wipe and touch up her face, her expression as gentle and patient as ever.

They ended up filming eight takes in total before the director reluctantly approved one. During the test screening, he discussed at length with the assistant director and finally decided to use the first take.

The editor was speechless, looking at Jiang Wanxing with eyes full of sympathy.

Jiang Wanxing didn’t mind at all. She politely greeted the director and the crew before wrapping up the shoot.

This was her final scene — the conclusion of one story arc in the police drama, depicting the female robber’s desperate end.

“Sister Xing, you’re leaving now? It’s all my fault for getting so busy I forgot. I’ll have Xiao Wang order you some flowers and a cake later. Let’s eat before you go. We’ve worked together so long, it’s hard to say goodbye.”

Jiang Wanxing politely declined, saying the crew was busy and she didn’t want to trouble anyone.

The other party expressed gratitude again, saying Jiang Wanxing was the most dedicated, down-to-earth, and understanding actress they had ever worked with.

Jiang Wanxing responded with a gentle smile.

Taking out her phone, she logged into her promotional account and chose a well-lit angle. She took a photo of herself, covered in blood and dirt from head to toe, and posted it with the caption: 【Last scene. Repeating takes over and over showed me the director’s relentless pursuit of perfection in every shot. Truly worthy of being called a craftsman of film and TV. Thanks to the crew for all their hard work and care during this time. You are the most lovable behind-the-scenes heroes. Throwing flowers jpg.】

After checking carefully to make sure there were no typos, she clicked “post.”

Jiang Wanxing didn’t have many fans. Counting the inactive accounts on Weibo, she usually got a few hundred comments per post, mostly from fans who loved her looks and a small number of drama fans—very few overall.

This was because the dramas she acted in weren’t well-known, ratings were mediocre, and there were no big-name stars, so her real-life online fanbase didn’t overlap much.

But that was okay—some efforts still had to be made.

As expected, a small wave of comments soon gathered, praising her dedication while complimenting her looks and thanking the crew for their care. They openly called her a hardworking model employee and looked forward to seeing her in new dramas soon.

After the social media routine, Jiang Wanxing returned to the makeup room to remove her makeup.

The room was empty. As soon as she sat down, she let out a sharp breath.

She had twisted her waist.

Jiang Wanxing had already twisted her waist during the first take of the jump-off-the-building scene, but she endured the pain without a word. Yet that idiot director made them shoot eight takes.

“It hurts so much, it hurts so much,” she gritted her teeth and gently rubbed her waist, frowning deeply.

Zhao Bin, that bastard! His skills are so poor, all he knows is to torture actors. No wonder his box office bombs forever. If he shoots another drama, I’ll be a dog!

Jiang Wanxing swore silently in her heart, biting her lip as she poured makeup remover on her face. Moving a little too much stirred her waist again, making her gasp.

After struggling to remove her makeup, she saw it was past lunch time and hurried to the logistics department to pick up a boxed meal.

“Ah, sorry,” the logistics girl said, a little flustered. “The last batch was just taken by the stage crew. I thought everyone had eaten already. The headcount matched perfectly…”

“Is that so,” Jiang Wanxing forced a smile. “Well, perfect timing—I was just thinking of improving my meals. You know, the crew’s boxed meals are tasty but eating them all the time gets tiring.”

With a reassuring smile to the girl, she turned and left.

“Such a beautiful and kind person.” The logistics girl watched Jiang Wanxing’s retreating figure, sincerely grateful. She was a newbie intern on the crew, at the very bottom of the totem pole. Hardly anyone noticed her good work, but if anything went wrong, she’d be the first to take the blame. Missing meals for actors could be a big deal, if it happened with someone bad-tempered, it might mean a scolding or even getting fired.

She had been with the crew for over a month, and whether from her own experience or overheard gossip, Jiang Wanxing was a rare celebrity in the entertainment industry—completely down-to-earth and empathetic toward workers like them.

How could such a good person not be famous?

Good-hearted Jiang Wanxing walked straight to the parking lot, opened the car door, and struggled to squeeze herself into the cramped seat, grimacing again.

She muttered curses, used her phone to check her waist, but the car was too dark to see anything clearly. Fumbling, she opened the glove box, took out a medicinal patch, tore one open, and carefully stuck it on her lower back.

That would have to do for now. Sleep on it tonight, and if it’s still bad tomorrow, she’d visit a small clinic for treatment.

After applying the patch, Jiang Wanxing slowly climbed out of her seat, displeased, opened her phone, logged into her secondary account, and started searching keywords related to Zhao Bin. Verbal curses couldn’t vent her anger—she had to give him a piece of her mind online.“

Since Zhao Bin’s newly released movie was right in the middle of a pulled-from-theaters controversy, there was a lot of negative online commentary about him.

Expressionless, Jiang Wanxing liked each of those posts one by one. Seeing one especially spot-on criticism, she even impulsively wanted to buy a trending spot for it.

Of course, that was just a thought. She was a stingy penny-pincher, spending money on Zhao Bin? No way.

Casually opening her bank account, Jiang Wanxing counted the seven-digit balance and instantly felt great again.

This shitty entertainment industry… at least it had some redeeming qualities.

She transferred next month’s hospital fees into the hospital’s account. Her finger hovered over the video call button for a moment—then moved away.

She’d wait until she was in better shape to video chat.

Rubbing her growling stomach, she drove to the nearest restaurant and ordered a simple bowl of malatang (spicy hotpot). While waiting at her table, two teenage girls, about fifteen or sixteen, were sitting across from her, their heads down, eyes glued to a phone screen.

Jiang Wanxing also took out her phone to play a few mini-games and kill time, but suddenly heard loud squeals from the table across, “Ahhh! So handsome, so handsome!!”

The sound was so abrupt that she nearly dropped her phone onto the table.

She glanced over at them—both girls were still fixated on the screen. Music could be heard from the phone, thumping with heavy beats, and a few lines of lyrics could be faintly made out. Jiang Wanxing didn’t recognize the song.

“Oh my god, he’s so handsome, how can anyone look like this? He’s like a celestial being descended to earth!” One girl clutched her chest dramatically. “I’m so worried he’ll be lonely for life—no one is worthy of him! What do I do? Just thinking about how beautiful he is makes the whole world look better!”

“God, those legs! They look longer than my lifespan! Brother, don’t step on the floor, step on me! Ahhh I can see abs! Thank you, Mom, for blessing me with these dog eyes—I knew they weren’t grown for nothing!”

“He’s a walking work of art! Even his hair is sparkling!”

“Holy crap, that Adam’s apple—huff huff—I want to lick it.”

Jiang Wanxing turned her head toward the window, pretending to be deeply interested in the view. She figured they probably didn’t want to be reminded that someone else was present during their fan-girling frenzy.

Just as she was thinking this, she suddenly heard someone call her name. “Huh? Sister, are you Jiang Wanxing?”

One of the girls had finally noticed there was someone else in the shop. She paused the music and looked at her with sparkling eyes.

Turns out, Jiang Wanxing had been overthinking it. She turned her head back around and put on a friendly smile. “Yes, that’s me.”

In the industry, she was considered a D-list actress—far from popular enough to worry about being mobbed. So, there was no need to deny her identity, acting friendly would help build a good public image.

“Wow, you’re even prettier in real life than on TV! My grandma’s been watching your wartime drama lately, and I watched a bit with her. You acted so well—she kept saying how beautiful you are.”

Jiang Wanxing gave a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

The two girls were cheerful and outgoing and soon moved over to her table. Jiang Wanxing assumed they might ask for an autograph and was just thinking about what kind of message to write, when the girl from earlier suddenly changed the subject. “Sister, you’re in the industry too. Have you ever met Chen Re?”

Jiang Wanxing paused, trying to recall the name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t match it to a face.

The other girl seemed to pick up on Jiang Wanxing’s awkwardness and nudged her friend with an elbow. “Xiao Re is a singer. Sister is an actress. They don’t work in the same field—it’s normal if they’ve never met.”

The first girl let out an “oh” and instantly lost her earlier excitement.

Jiang Wanxing figured this Chen Re must be the one they were just “huffing and puffing” over and curiously glanced at the phone on the table.

The video had been paused on a man’s ending pose. The surroundings were dark, with a single beam of golden spotlight pouring down. In the center of the light stood a man in a red fringed jacket, arms crossed, gaze imperious.

From her angle, the screen was upside down, so she couldn’t see his face clearly—but what she could see was dazzlingly white.