Chapter 43: You're Not Her… Are You?
Shen Muyan stood in the shadows of his office, the faint glow of the city lights reflecting off the glass windows behind him. In his hand was a printed contract—one Lin Zhaoxi had left behind that morning. Her signature at the bottom caught his eye.
Elegant. Precise.
Too familiar.
His fingers tightened around the paper. A memory flashed—five years ago, a blurry photo, a woman who signed her name the same way.
It couldn't be.
She was gone.
The office door burst open.
"Sorry I'm late," Lin Zhaoxi said, panting slightly, holding a copy of a script to her chest. Her face was a little pale, strands of hair sticking to her forehead as if she'd run all the way there.
Shen Muyan said nothing at first. His eyes fixed on her with a gaze sharp enough to cut through steel.
"You chose this script?" he asked, voice low and unreadable.
Zhaoxi nodded, trying to steady her breath. "Yes. The female lead is complicated. I thought… I wanted to challenge myself."
Shen Muyan rose from his chair, slowly walking around his desk. Each step echoed like a warning.
He stopped a few inches from her, staring down at her face as if trying to peel away every layer.
"You look like someone," he said quietly.
Zhaoxi's heart skipped a beat.
[System Alert: Suspicion level +5. Favorability +3. Emotional equilibrium disrupted. Please remain calm.]
"Someone from the industry?" she asked, forcing a light smile. "I've been told I resemble a few actresses."
He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes grew distant. "No. Not from the industry."
There was a pause.
"You look like someone I once loved."
Her smile faltered. Fingers gripped the script tighter, knuckles turning white.
Shen Muyan's voice dropped lower. "But she's dead."
Her breath caught in her throat.
He leaned in, brushing a stray strand of hair from her shoulder. The touch was gentle, almost tender.
"You're not her… are you?"
The question landed like a stone in the silence between them.
[System Alert: Identity Exposure Probability: 33%. Immediate deflection advised.]
"I'm just Lin Zhaoxi," she whispered. "An actress trying to make it in this industry. Nothing more."
His gaze lingered on her, unreadable.
At that moment, his phone vibrated.
He glanced down at the screen. A message from his assistant: Two images. One was Lin Zhaoxi's employee profile. The other—a photo from his mother's old album. A girl from five years ago, with the same eyes.
He stared at the two photos in silence.
Different names. Different hair. But the same look in her eyes.
Who are you really, Lin Zhaoxi?