The backstage area was a labyrinth of hanging garments, tangled cables, and the frantic whispers of stylists. Su Qing leaned against a cold brick wall in the corridor, her lungs burning. The applause for her performance still echoed in the distance, but it felt hollow. In this industry, applause was just the seasoning before they devoured the main course.
"Su Qing! There you are!"
Her manager, a man named Director Wang with eyes like a vulture, stepped out of the shadows. He grabbed her arm, his grip bruisingly tight. "The producer from East-Media is in the lounge. He loved your high note. He wants to discuss your 'future' over a private dinner tonight. You know what to do."
Su Qing's stomach turned. "Director Wang, I... I'm not feeling well. My mother's nurse called—"
"Your mother's medical bills are sitting on my desk, Qing," he hissed, leaning close enough that she could smell the stale tobacco on his breath. "Do you want her out on the street? Go to the lounge. Now."
He shoved her toward the VIP dressing rooms. Su Qing stumbled, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She felt like a piece of meat being walked to the butcher's block. She turned a corner too quickly and collided with someone—a wall of soft cashmere and the scent of sandalwood and rain.
"Careful," a cool, steady voice commanded.
Su Qing looked up, her breath hitching. It was her—the woman from the panel. Lin Yan.
Up close, the CEO was even more intimidating. Her skin was porcelain, her eyes a deep, intelligent brown that seemed to read the secrets Su Qing had buried under her skin. Lin Yan reached out, her gloved hand steadying Su Qing's shoulder.
"I... I'm sorry, President Lin," Su Qing stammered, dropping her head. She tried to pull away, but Lin Yan didn't let go immediately.
"You were crying," Yan noted. It wasn't a question. It was an observation that felt like a trial.
"It's just the stage lights," Su Qing lied, her voice trembling. "They're very bright."
Lin Yan looked at the girl—really looked at her. She saw the cheap, fraying lace of the dress, the faint purple shadows under her eyes, and the way her hands shook as she clutched her old microphone. Most of all, she saw the fear. It was the fear of a small animal that had been cornered too many times.
"The lights in this building are designed to hide the truth, not show it," Lin Yan said softly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a clean, silk handkerchief. She held it out. "Wipe your eyes. You have a reputation to build, not a tragedy to sell."
Su Qing stared at the handkerchief. It cost more than her month's rent. She reached out with a trembling hand, her fingers grazing Lin Yan's for a split second. A spark—sharp and electric—shot through both of them.
Lin Yan's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.
"Thank you," Su Qing whispered, clutching the silk like a lifeline.
"Su Qing!" Director Wang's voice boomed from the end of the hall.
Su Qing flinched violently. The reaction was instinctive, a reflex of someone used to being struck or shouted at. Lin Yan's gaze sharpened, shifting from the girl to the man approaching them. Her protective instincts, dormant for years, flared into a cold, controlled fire.
"Is there a problem, Director?" Lin Yan asked, her voice dropping an octave, becoming the CEO who could dismantle companies with a phone call.
Wang froze, his oily smile faltering. "Ah, President Lin! No, no problem at all. Just looking for our little star. She has an important meeting."
Lin Yan looked at Su Qing. The girl was looking at the floor, her shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear.
"She looks exhausted," Lin Yan said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I believe your 'little star' needs rest, not meetings. I was just telling her that my company is looking for a voice for our next global campaign. Perhaps we should discuss her schedule first?"
Wang gasped, his eyes lighting up with greed. "Of course! Whatever you wish, President Lin!"
Su Qing looked up, her eyes wide with shock. Lin Yan gave her a look that was both a warning and a promise—a look that said, I see you.
But as Lin Yan walked away, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor, Su Qing felt a new kind of terror. To be noticed by a goddess was just as dangerous as being hunted by a wolf.
Why would someone like her help someone like me? Su Qing thought, clutching the silk handkerchief to her heart. I am already stained. If she touches me, she'll only get dirty too.
"She offered a handkerchief to dry the tears, not knowing she was handing over the map to her own heart."