Even the makeup artist was at a loss!

In truth, everyone understood what was on Luo Zizhen and Zhang Chuchu’s minds. The moment Zhang Zhichang entered and heard the makeup artist’s words, he too realized what the two were plotting. In the past, he might have turned a blind eye to such a scene—after all, in the entertainment industry, this was nothing out of the ordinary.

But things were different now. He had just been warned by Lu Yiqing, and with Old Master Lu’s repeated instructions to protect Su Yunjin, he found himself caught in the middle, squeezed from both sides with no escape. Now, these two women, Luo Zizhen and Zhang Chuchu, who were hardly worth his attention, had the nerve to cause him more trouble. Did they really think he was just a figurehead producer?

“What’s all this talk about satisfaction or dissatisfaction? I think it looks just fine. Hurry up and do everyone’s makeup—this is a program, not a one-person show. Let me tell you, if anyone delays the opening because of this, I’ll have you fired on the spot!” Pointing at the two makeup artists, Zhang Zhichang unleashed his temper without restraint.

It was clear he showed no regard for Luo Zizhen and Zhang Chuchu. After being scolded like this, the two makeup artists felt a weight lifted off their shoulders and quickly left Luo Zizhen and Zhang Chuchu behind, heading straight for Su Yunjin.

“Miss Su, may we do your makeup?” one of the makeup artists asked.

“Please do Mr. Shao and Mr. Wang first,” Su Yunjin replied, glancing toward Wang Tao and Shao Xinghui. Shao Xinghui still had dark circles under his eyes, and Wang Tao’s face had broken out; his yellowish complexion was marred by a bright red patch. Clearly, neither of them had been scheduled with a makeup artist.

Though neither Wang Tao nor Shao Xinghui had spoken up for her earlier, Su Yunjin wasn’t one to judge by a moment’s behavior. She felt at ease with these two and was happy to let the makeup artists tend to them first. After all, these minor imperfections might be nothing in real life, but under a high-definition camera, they could easily become unflattering images—or worse, land them as trending topics for all the wrong reasons.

“No, no, it doesn’t matter whether we get makeup or not. Miss Su, you should go first,” Wang Tao insisted.

Shao Xinghui echoed him gratefully, “Exactly. The two of us are just rough men—even without makeup, it’s fine. But you, Miss Su, as the center-stage mentor, should look your best.”

“I’ll handle Mr. Wang and Mr. Shao. You stay here and do Miss Su’s makeup,” said the other makeup artist, coming over to Wang Tao and Shao Xinghui.

Although one makeup artist was now handling Wang Tao and Shao Xinghui—their needs were simple, being men—the one responsible for Su Yunjin quickly got to work. Yet, just as she picked up the foundation, her hand froze midair.

Su Yunjin’s skin was flawless—fair, luminous, and delicate. In comparison, the foundation in her hand seemed almost unnecessary. The artist picked up an eyebrow pencil, but again paused. Su Yunjin’s brows were soft as distant mountains, elegantly curved like willow leaves, so beautiful that she didn’t know where to start.

She tried the blush, but realized Su Yunjin’s complexion was already radiant; blush would only detract from her natural beauty. Then she considered the lips—soft and pink as morning clouds, bright and tender, needing no enhancement.

After staring, dumbfounded, for four or five minutes, the artist could only put away her tools with a wry smile. “Miss Su, I can only dust a bit of powder on you.”

“Hm?” Su Yunjin looked at her, puzzled.

The makeup artist smiled ruefully. “Honestly, I’ve worked on so many celebrities and artists, but you’re the first I’ve met who leaves me at a loss for what to do.”

There were plenty of beauties in the entertainment industry. No matter how lovely, every actress’s features had some flaw. The makeup artist’s job was to conceal flaws and highlight strengths, but she had never seen anyone like Su Yunjin—so perfect it was moving. Even as a woman, looking at Su Yunjin for too long made her heart race.

Makeup? She simply couldn’t do it! All she could do was pat on a bit of powder to control any potential shine.

“By the way, your skin is incredible, Miss Su. How do you care for it?” Wang Tao asked, glancing at Su Yunjin through the mirror. He had noticed before—her skin looked nothing like that of someone in their twenties. Even in the industry, most women’s skin started to lose its glow by their mid-twenties, but Su Yunjin’s was as flawless as a child’s—supple and delicate. He genuinely wanted to know how such skin was possible.

“I don’t really do much skincare—just early to bed and early to rise,” Su Yunjin replied, checking her watch. It was almost seven. “If I’m not working, around this time, I’d usually do my evening reading and go to bed by eight.”

“Evening reading?”

“Mmm, just reading, writing a bit, and then some meditation or chanting before sleep.” For her, the main thing was to lower her heart rate before bed. In the Seven Peaks Monastery, these routines had long become second nature, so she spoke of them as if they were nothing unusual.

But while this was routine for her, it was quite the opposite for Wang Tao. He had thought to emulate her, but hearing that she went to bed by eight immediately put him off. Eight o’clock? His nightlife was just beginning at that time. Sometimes he was still out until one or two in the morning—sleeping early was simply out of the question!

Wang Tao grew despondent, but Shao Xinghui, still unwilling to give up, asked, “So if you sleep that early, when do you wake up?”

“Five or six o’clock. In winter, maybe a bit later, but never past seven at the latest.”

That was it—no hope. Rising at six or seven? How was that any different from a grade-schooler? Shao Xinghui gave up too. Beside them, the makeup artist could only marvel, “No wonder your skin is so good, Miss Su. With a schedule like that, even without skincare, you’d look ten years younger than everyone else.”

“Actually, this is something anyone could do—it’s just that life is too hectic these days. Besides, smartphones take up such a big part of everyone’s time now. Self-discipline is really just about reclaiming the time we waste and putting it to better use—like in the old days, before smartphones, life was just as full, wasn’t it?” Su Yunjin smiled sincerely.

Though she hadn’t left the monastery in ten years, from the information she’d gathered these past couple of days, she realized the issue today wasn’t a lack of discipline, but too many temptations. One big reason she didn’t upgrade her phone was to resist such distractions. After all, she planned to return to the monastery in the future.

It’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back. If she got used to this lifestyle and then returned to a life of ascetic practice, she’d surely find it difficult—and then her grand-uncle would be displeased yet again.