CHAPTER 31 (PART 1)

Jiang Su still chose Yu Xinyan and Wu Qingqing as her teammates.

Wu Qingqing was the first to step onto the stage.

In front of her was a microphone stand—but it was empty, with no microphone placed in it.

The audience erupted into screams.

Cheng Yue squinted.

…This? Jiang Su?

Dong Jiayu had no idea that Cheng Yue had almost forgotten what Jiang Su even looked like.

Overcome with guilt, Dong Jiayu clenched her fingers tightly, struggling to breathe. But after being directly called out by Cheng Yue earlier, she didn’t dare to faint now. If she collapsed at this moment, it would look too much like she was faking illness…

Yet, Cheng Yue remained silent.

This made Dong Jiayu even more anxious.

Cheng Yue had turned her own tactics against her.

He only mentioned that he had been held captive in her house—then stopped speaking.

What would others infer from that?

They would start wondering—what kind of connection did the kidnapper have with her?

Was she the daughter of a criminal?

Would people dig into the story of Dongjia Village? And the more they uncovered…

Would they start distorting her image in their minds? Would her public persona collapse?

A wave of torment washed over Dong Jiayu.

She knew better than anyone else what kind of associations such suggestive wording would lead to.

That was why this was even harder for her to endure.

But the stage had no sympathy for her.

As the spotlight turned on, Jiang Su stepped onto the stage, gripping a microphone.

She parted her lips, her voice carrying a hint of cold detachment and casual indifference.

“Have you ever seen her under the starry sky on a rainy night?”

Her hair was styled in voluminous curls, cascading over her shoulders. She wore a resplendent qipao, with pearl tassels dangling from the cuffs.

She was languid yet captivating, exuding an air of youthful charm.

She took a slow step forward.

“Dark red nails entangle the lingering smoke threads…”

Another spotlight beamed down, illuminating Wu Qingqing, highlighting her hands.

Her fingers were slender, grasping a black-gold cigarette holder. Her nails, painted dark red, matched the lyrics.

Yu Xinyan stepped onto the stage, positioning herself beside Jiang Su.

Jiang Su handed the microphone to Wu Qingqing. Wu Qingqing parted her lips.

“If you try to strike up a conversation, she will curve her lips into a smirk, with a hint of mockery in her gaze…”

Yu Xinyan gently rested her hand on Jiang Su’s shoulder, leaning in as if whispering intimately to her.

The next second, Jiang Su twirled gracefully, pulling Yu Xinyan into a waltz across the stage.

Her velvet high heels tapped lightly yet rhythmically against the floor.

Jiang Su danced the lead, while Yu Xinyan followed the female steps.

Yu Xinyan wasn’t particularly skilled in this style of dance, but she tried her best to soften her movements.

Jiang Su’s steps were powerful, the hem of her qipao lifting slightly with each motion, a blend of sharpness and allure.

Offstage, Cheng Yue raised an eyebrow slightly.

At last, the strikingly beautiful face on stage aligned with his memories.

Oh, so it really was Jiang Su.

This… was the real Jiang Su.

Or perhaps—not quite.

On stage, Jiang Su gently encircled Yu Xinyan’s waist before spinning her toward Wu Qingqing.

Wu Qingqing caught her wrist, pressing the microphone into her palm.

Jiang Su stood there, curling a finger at Wu Qingqing.

Wu Qingqing clasped her fingertips, slowly walking toward her.

“Love me deeply, love me truly.”

Yu Xinyan held the microphone and sang in a low, soft voice:

“The woman in my arms is beautiful—it is her unique gift. Time itself is her lover…”

The live stream chat was once again flooded with “Ahhhhhh.”

[Ahhh, I’m dying!]

[Wuwuwu, beauty is her innate talent.]

[That qipao is absolutely stunning—seductive yet effortless, cold yet noble.]

[Ahhh, even two girls dancing together can be this captivating.]

[Am I the only one noticing this? Jiang Su’s wrist strength is insane!]

Jiang Su spun around, passing by Yu Xinyan, one hand gripping the microphone:

“Have you ever met her?”

“Like a midnight rose, its hidden thorns growing stronger, more beautiful—painfully so…”

Jiang Su hooked Yu Xinyan up from her seated position.

Her dance movements became even more fluid, and the long tassel earrings hanging from her earlobes slowly trailed behind, intertwining with her hair.

Like a rose blooming in the dark night, her entire being exuded sharp, untouchable thorns.

Cheng Yue, who had been watching absentmindedly, finally allowed his gaze to settle on her.

The chat grew even more frenzied.

[It feels like a waltz but also has a touch of musical theater. The choreography is incredible, wuwuwu.]

[She’s both gorgeous and dominant, and she tells a whole story with just one performance!]

As the melody swelled, Jiang Su turned around and slowly walked toward the edge of the stage. At last, she stopped in front of the curtain, fading into the shadows, leaving only a delicate yet striking silhouette.

Yu Xinyan crouched on the ground, curled up, gazing in her direction.

Wu Qingqing lowered her eyes, singing the final verse:

“I only wish that the relentless dust of the world would become the devotion and dependence she longs to hear…”

Cheng Yue looked at that silhouette.

For a brief moment, an illusion struck him—that this was a beauty too otherworldly to exist, a shadow that could disappear at any time.

Cheng Yue blinked slowly, fingers curling.

She was Jiang Su, yet not quite Jiang Su.

At that moment, thunderous applause erupted from the audience, their voices shouting with all their might:

“Jiang Su! Jiang Su!”

Compared to that, the cheers for Yu Xinyan and Wu Qingqing were noticeably fainter.

Stop it, stop it!

Dong Jiayu wished she could cover her ears. Their fervent cheers felt like judgment, like a punishment towering over her.

She felt like her lungs were about to burst. She gasped for breath, struggling, not daring to turn her head to look at Cheng Yue.

On stage, Jiang Su slowly turned around, taking in every passionate, adoring face in the audience.

Her gaze flickered slightly—momentary astonishment.

She had never seen such a scene before.

They were calling her name with fervor, their voices nearly cracking. They waved their glowing signs, banners, and neon sticks, a sea of colored lights twinkling like scattered stars.

Were they… fond of me?

A foreign thought surfaced in Jiang Su’s mind.

She and Yu Xinyan slowly walked toward the judges.

Jiang N smiled. “This performance style is quite interesting!”

Yelena also smiled, gripping the microphone as she turned to ask, “What do you all think? What rating should they get?”

“A!”

“Jiang Su is the best!”

The fans’ voices nearly shook the entire venue.

Cheng Yue: ?

Cheng Yue: “Interesting.”

Just those four words—like a blade of jealousy, piercing Dong Jiayu’s heart straight through.

She couldn’t hold back her tears. “…Do you already know?”

Cheng Yue turned to her.

Oh?

So, she’s putting on an act now?

Dong Jiayu knew that at this point, admitting her mistakes was meaningless—but it was the only option left.

Because in front of Cheng Yue, if you didn’t admit your fault, he would only smile and watch you fall deeper and deeper into hell, waiting until you were on your knees, sobbing, and begging for forgiveness.

Jiang Su was coming.

She was about to face her!

Dong Jiayu had no choice but to frame everything as an impulsive mistake, something a girl would do when trapped by love.

She whispered, “I only did this because I like you.”

The people around immediately perked up.

“I find you quite annoying.” Cheng Yue scoffed. “Do you even know what kind of person you are? Greedy, ambitious beyond reason.”

The moment he said that, everyone’s expressions shifted.

Wait, what?

What’s the real story here?

What was Dong Jiayu referring to when she asked if he ‘knew’?

Could it be… she had been using Cheng Yue’s name for personal gain?

“My mother always remembered how you once gave up some of your food. Just for that, you were able to leave the mountains and live a comfortable life…”

Comfortable?

Just comfortable?

She had saved the only heir of the Cheng family!

Didn’t she deserve more?

Tears streamed down Dong Jiayu’s face. “You know how hard those first few years in the industry were for me…”

That was when she couldn’t resist the temptation—she started using Cheng Yue’s name.

Back then, she was full of resentment.

Why didn’t the Cheng family open an entertainment company? Why didn’t they help her? Why did they look down on actors?

For a long time, she had dreamed of the day Cheng Yue would fall in love with her. That he would build the first entertainment company under the Cheng Group—for her.

But none of that ever happened.

Which was why her path had been so difficult.