Chapter 2: Accident

After "Tiger Tooth" won its award, Chi Xing received olive branches from several talent agencies.

She knew nothing about any of it, so she discussed it with friends and shamelessly sought advice from the director of "Tiger Tooth," finally choosing the well-known domestic firm, Peak River Media.

Her first agent at Peak River Media was Lin Shuchuan.

Lin Shuchuan did teach her many things and indeed gave Chi Xing a great deal of help in her career. But she could never get along with him; Lin Shuchuan’s moodiness and temper still left Chi Xing fearful to this day.

Lin Shuchuan was the youngest son of Peak River Media’s CEO. After taking over the business, he split up all the talent he managed. Chang Xiaoyan only started working with Chi Xing four years ago. Her temperament was similar to Chi Xing’s, but she was far more tactful, and Chi Xing enjoyed working with her.

By comparison, Lin Shuchuan seemed all the more cruel, cold, and unreasonable.

As always, faced with Chi Xing’s anger and discontent, Lin Shuchuan never explained himself. He simply demanded Chi Xing accept everything he arranged.

“Why didn’t you go to last night’s dinner?” Lin Shuchuan’s voice was low; even through the phone, Chi Xing felt a chill. “They specifically asked to meet you.”

“How would I know I’d become someone’s drinking companion?” Chi Xing sneered. “Lin Shuchuan, you and I both know—if it were a proper dinner, would I not show up?”

The makeup artist was nervous; Chang Xiaoyan handed her two mint candies.

Lin Shuchuan didn’t get angry. “You didn’t go, and you encouraged Shen Yingzi and the others to skip as well. When did you become their agent?”

Chi Xing replied, “Sending eighteen- or nineteen-year-olds to those kinds of dinners? Are you out of your mind?”

Lin Shuchuan said nothing, just laughed.

Chi Xing said, “If shamelessness could be sold by the pound, you’d be a billionaire.”

Lin Shuchuan replied, “Next year there’s an S-level variety show investment. The company is planning to push Yingzi and the others forward. Everyone at the dinner was arranging the show; it’s a rare opportunity. Do you think everyone’s as stupid as you?”

Chi Xing coldly laughed, “The same old excuses.”

Lin Shuchuan continued, “I’ve already talked to them. None of them are grateful to you—they think you’re blocking their earning potential. I’m setting up another dinner tonight. Yingzi and the others agreed to go. What about you? Oh right, you’re Chi Xing, you look down on these dinners.”

Chi Xing was at a loss for words.

Lin Shuchuan spoke slowly, “Since you won’t obey, you have to face some consequences. Forget about ‘Cataclysm.’ It’s impossible. I’ll arrange another show for you. If you don’t accept it, you won’t get any new work this year.”

Chi Xing never managed to keep pace with Lin Shuchuan in their confrontations. He finished speaking and hung up. Chi Xing gripped her phone, breathing hard. Chang Xiaoyan rushed over and deftly snatched the phone away, “Please, this is my new phone—it cost seven or eight thousand.”

Chi Xing was still fuming when the assistant director knocked to remind her it was time to shoot. Chi Xing flashed a reflexive smile; when the assistant director left, her gloomy expression returned.

She brooded alone, holding in her anger for a long time, finally muttering, “All that I said to them last night—what a waste.”

Chang Xiaoyan patted her shoulder, “So what if they’re eighteen or nineteen? Anyone who gets into this circle isn’t a fool. Sister, mind your own business a little less.”

Chi Xing brought her rage to the set, slipping into character instantly. The director was so excited he couldn’t sit still. “Excellent, Chi Xing! That energy is perfect today!”

Her co-star was a ten-year-old, acting for the first time and struggling to immerse himself. But when Chi Xing, covered in blood and wounds, stood before him, her fiery gaze seemed to ignite something in him—he burst into tears, clinging tightly to Chi Xing.

Everything went well until the final scene, which unexpectedly went wrong.

Chi Xing leaped from the second floor, holding her brother. The floor was low, so no harness was needed, but her jump and landing were off. She was about to roll off the mat, but reacted quickly, shielding the child with her chest as they rolled onto the mat. Her wrist gave a crisp crack.

The doctor examined her: a dislocation.

She finished the last scene, thanked everyone, and a group escorted her to the hospital.

After the check, she was found to have a dislocation and a minor fracture, but nothing serious.

Relieved that the injury wasn’t severe, Chi Xing breathed easier—she could still attend her dance classes. She had only learned basic steps and wasn’t yet familiar… but then remembered she had already lost the role in “Cataclysm.”

Once everything was settled, Chang Xiaoyan and the assistant took her home. Chang Xiaoyan kept fielding calls about Chi Xing’s condition. What Chi Xing had said in her “One Minute Question” interview was bound to stir things up; if news of her injury got out now, it would be seen as a publicity stunt. Chang Xiaoyan dismissed it as a minor scrape, brushing off the inquiries one by one.

Though Chang Xiaoyan worked for Peak River Media, her approach was very different from Lin Shuchuan and the others—more conservative, more steady.

Chi Xing trusted her deeply. Two years ago, a drama catapulted Chi Xing to fame, but Lin Shuchuan repeatedly refused and blocked her from taking the role, fearing the villainous character would damage her image. Chang Xiaoyan, however, read the script and character thoroughly, and strongly urged Chi Xing to accept it.

“Are we not going to the wrap party?” Chi Xing asked.

Chang Xiaoyan put away her phone. “I’ll go after I drop you off. The director and producer know your situation and told you to rest more. If you feel bad, just treat everyone to a meal after the premiere—watch the first episode together, it’ll be fun.”

Chi Xing nodded, then turned to gaze quietly out the window. A light rain fell outside, droplets streaming down the glass like tears.

“…Chi Xing, why are you so fixated on ‘Cataclysm’?” Chang Xiaoyan said, watching her in the rearview mirror. “The project is under tight wraps. The outline is good, but so far only the producer has contacted us; plenty of details still need to be discussed—it’s just an intention. I’ve asked several times, but the producer refuses to reveal who the writer and director are. Are you sure you fell for it just reading the outline?”

Chi Xing replied, “Yes.”

Chang Xiaoyan turned back, “Why? Is there something special about the story that draws you?”

Chi Xing gazed out the window and smiled faintly. Her lip gloss was gone, her face pale, her eyes reflecting the flow outside—yet they brimmed with spirit. She didn’t answer Chang Xiaoyan’s question.

Chang Xiaoyan could only bring up another matter. Lin Shuchuan had indeed lined up another show for Chi Xing—a modern urban idol drama, with a career subplot, and Chi Xing as the second female lead. Chang Xiaoyan summed it up directly: “Meryl Streep’s role in ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’”

“…I get it,” Chi Xing grew even more dispirited. “I’ve played at least three roles like this already. Does Lin Shuchuan have no taste? Am I some angry queen bee photocopier?” She sighed deeply.

Chi Xing wasn’t someone easily brought low; she seemed forever spirited, passionate, sometimes even aggressive. Chang Xiaoyan was a bit worried—she hadn’t expected losing “Cataclysm” would hit Chi Xing so hard.

When they reached the gate of her apartment complex, Chang Xiaoyan wanted to accompany her inside, but Lin Shuchuan called again, urging her to attend the dinner. Chi Xing said goodbye to both in the car and walked into the complex.

It was late. Property staff patrolled the grounds, someone was out for a night run, others walked their dogs, the lights hidden among the trees.

Chi Xing lived in a remote corner. The stone path twisted and turned.

She resided on the fifth floor, climbing the stairs daily as her exercise. Tonight, after two flights, Chi Xing stopped abruptly.

She heard light, steady footsteps below, closely trailing her own. When she stopped, the footsteps stopped too.

Chi Xing held her breath. The stairwell lights were on—she turned to look down the railing but saw no one. Yet she felt someone breathing quietly in the shadows, sending chills down her spine.

Chi Xing hurried up a few steps; sure enough, footsteps sounded below again. That person was cautious—when she stopped, they stopped.

Normally, Chi Xing would swing her bag and go downstairs to confront them. But now, with her wrist in a cast, she couldn’t move recklessly. After a moment’s hesitation, Chi Xing broke into a run upward.

Her apartment was just diagonally opposite the stairwell entrance. She pressed her fingerprint, entered her code in one fluid motion, slipped inside, and slammed the door shut.

Inside, it was dim. She hadn’t yet turned on the lights, but peered out through the peephole.

The stairwell’s sensor light was on, a shadow slowly passed by—but didn’t try the door. A moment later, the shadow vanished, and the sensor light went out.

Chi Xing’s heart hammered wildly, her back drenched in cold sweat. She raised her hand to wipe her forehead, only to find her palm sticky.

“Damn…”

A wave of nausea swept through Chi Xing; she instantly flicked on the light.

Her palm was coated with a viscous, milky-white liquid—like bodily fluid.