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Xu Jiaqi sat there on the hospital bed, her fingers tangled tightly in the blanket, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"I…"
She sniffled, her eyes swollen but still brimming with tears.
"I woke up to my phone buzzing nonstop. It was vibrating like crazy. I then I saw—nearly a hundred missed calls. My heart… it just… dropped."
Something was wrong.
The morning light hadn't even reached the curtains when her world fell apart.
Her hands had trembled as she returned the first call on the list, and her voice, unsure, "Hello?"
The voice on the other end was one she knew well— a girl, called An An from the company.
But the words that came next?
They shattered her.
"Qingsi is dead."
She blinked in disbelief. "What…? What did you just say?"
"I'm serious. She died last night on set. It's in the news."
"Stop it. Don't joke like that—!"
"I've sent you the link."
With trembling hands, Xu Jiaqi tapped the screen. The moment the page loaded, she froze.
It was a news report.
Trending.
'Young Actress Yan Qingsi Dies from Sudden Health Complication During Filming'
She could almost hear her own scream as her trembling fingers scrolled down the page.
Her fingers scrolled as if possessed, trying to find an error in the text, anything.
More articles followed, all reporting the same thing.
—
She stopped at a photo—Yan Qingsi's body being wheeled out of the hotel filming site. Though her face was covered, Xu Jiaqi saw her hand.
Her fingernails. Qingsi always painted them a soft pink.
It was her favourite.
She couldn't breathe. The world blurred.
She stumbled to her feet, still in her nightwear, not even stopping to change.
Dialing the girl again, "Where is she?"
"Yongsheng Mortuary. But—"
She didn't even hear the rest. She hailed a cab in tears, her heart pounding in her ears.
The ride there felt like a fever dream.
Xu Jiaqi could barely remember how she got out of the building, or how she hailed the taxi.
—
But she remembered what she saw when she arrived.
The entrance of the mortuary was cold.
Sterile. Lifeless.
Gu Yanchuan and Fang Zemin were talking to officers.
"You—!" she screamed, running toward them.
"What happened to Qingsi?! What did you do to her?!"
A police officer grabbed her shoulders. "Miss, please calm down—"
"I want to see her! Where is Qingsi?"
Fang Zemin didn't blink. His face was blank.
"She was found this morning in her hotel room. One of the extras came to wake her for filming and discovered…"
"No!" Xu Jiaqi shouted. "That's not true! Where is she?!"
"She's been cremated," one of the officers said plainly.
That word.
Cremated.
"What?! Already?! No—no! What do you mean cremated?!"
The officer frowned. "She had no listed relatives. She was under the company's guardianship. They handled it."
"You cremated her without telling me?! Without telling anyone?! She had friends! She had me!"
Her voice cracked, then broke entirely.
Just like that? Less than two hours since her death?
Xu Jiaqi's knees gave way. She fell to the cold marble floor.
"No… No, they did something… They did something to her!"
Her voice cracked.
She looked up at the men, her voice shaking with fury. "You killed her. You monsters… What did you do to her?!"
Her eyes went crazy.
"You murderers!! Beasts! Monsters... Give me Qingsi!!"
She screamed charging towards them but an officer held her back.
Gu Yanchuan's mask of calm cracked. "You'd better watch your words. We found her like that. She finished shooting, went to rest, and the next morning—she was gone."
Her heart cracked. Her lungs failed her. Darkness swept over her.
She fainted.
—
When she woke again, it was three days later.
The sterile smell of the hospital filled her nose. The white ceiling above her looked unfamiliar.
She was alone.
It was like waking up in another world.
Qingsi… she was gone.
Why? How?
"Qingsi…" she whispered, like saying the name might bring her back.
She forced herself out of the bed, yanked the IV from her hand, and stumbled into the hallway.
Her hospital gown swished around her ankles as she bumped into a familiar girl from the company.
"Where's Fang Zemin?" her voice rasped.
"He's… back at the company," the girl said hesitantly. "They're organizing the funeral."
Funeral?
That fast?
Her legs moved before her brain could process.
She flagged down a taxi in her hospital gown, ignoring the stares.
When she stormed into the company building and demanded to see Fang Zemin, the secretary shook her head.
"He's not in."
"I'll wait."
She waited all day.
But he never came.
—
That night, alone in her apartment, the silence hurt more than anything else.
Qingsi's scent still lingered.
Her slippers were by the door. Her mug was in the sink.
Her heart ached in ways she didn't think possible.
Why…?
Why did they kill her?
She had no evidence. But she knew. Deep in her bones—she knew.
—
Then, the funeral was announced.
The company made the arrangements.
It was broadcasted across media outlets as though they were showcasing a successful production.
She couldn't stop it.
Qingsi had no family. She'd told her she was an orphan. The company had every right.
The funeral day.
It was elegant, sure. Soft piano music.
Dozens of flower wreaths.
A huge screen displaying a slideshow of her best moments.
Celebrities came, delivered condolences, and walked away with pity in their eyes.
But it all felt staged.
Like a production.
She tried to step forward during the speech portion, but Fang Zemin stood before her and started speaking.
"She was a bright light in the industry…"
She wasn't even allowed to speak at the funeral.
And then they moved on to the burial.
She never got to say goodbye.
—
After that, she was shut out.
Every visit to the company was met with a cold wall. She stopped getting calls. Even the makeup team began avoiding her.
She hadn't been able to see either of them since then.
Whenever she visited Fang Zemin's office, the response was always the same:
"He's not in."
Xu Jiaqi tried everything to gather evidence.
She spoke to the makeup team, the costume staff, even the extras.
Nothing.
Except one girl.
The young extra told her she'd seen Yan Qingsi and Gu Yanchuan arguing in a hallway the night before she died.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
—
Now, in the hospital room, Xu Jiaqi stared straight into Mo Yuwei's eyes.
"I don't want money. I don't care about fame. I just want justice. I want them to pay for what they did to Qingsi."
Her hands were clenched into fists.
"They killed her. I know they did. And cremating her so quickly… they were erasing everything."
Mo Yuwei's jaw tightened. Her eyes glittered— with fury.
"They'll pay," she said coldly. "I'll make sure of it."
Xu Jiaqi gave her a tired smile. "Thank you…"
"Rest. We'll handle the meeting when you're better."
Mo Yuwei turned and left, her heels echoing through the corridor like gunshots.
---
Later that afternoon at the Liang Congromerate in the conference room, the atmosphere was heavy with tension.
Liang Yexuan sat at the head of the long polished table, his expression stoic.
Jin Shu stood quietly behind him, tablet in hand, eyes flickering between the screen and the attendees.
On either side of the table were government officials and consultants.
Mr. Nan was seated with six other officials: Director Ou, Deputy He, Old Minister Qiu, Secretary Lin, Consultant Zhao, and Project Analyst Feng.
But the two most notable guests were seated in silence—Master Fu and Master Lu, who Lin Yue would have recognised if she saw them here.
Once prominent ministers in the Department of Architecture and Urban Development, they now served as honorary overseers of national culture preservation projects.
Their opinions still held immense weight.
Zhang Qian and Qin Ke sat across from the government delegates, smiles plastered on their faces.
Mr. Nan, beamed. "Magnificent. This blend of traditional roof design with modern pillars… It's everything we hoped for. Far better than the other proposals."
The six others beside him nodded.
Master Fu sat back, arms crossed. He hadn't spoken yet.
His gaze lingered on the sketch.
Mr. Nan turned to him. "Don't you agree, Master Fu? This is exceptional, no?"
Master Fu didn't answer.
He looked at Master Lu.
"Tell me I'm not imagining this."
Master Lu frowned slightly. "It's familiar…"
Mr. Nan blinked. "Familiar?"
Master Fu leaned forward, his voice sharp and cutting. "The design is… certainly impressive..."
His voice lowered slightly, "However, I've seen this style somewhere before. The line curvature… the brush motif embedded in the beams... Even the ceiling dome— very similar."
Zhang Qian stiffened.
Qin Ke's pen slipped from his hand.
Jin Shu's grip on his tablet tightened.
And Liang Yexuan, who had remained quiet all this time, finally raised his eyes to meet Master Fu's.
The room went silent.
Plagiarism??!!
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