Bai Chenxi's steps faltered. Slowly, she turned.
Behind her stood Lu Ziming, draped in a gaudy sequined suit that glittered obnoxiously under the fluorescent lights. His slicked-back hair gleamed with oil, and his arm was wrapped around a heavily made-up young woman dressed to impress.
His eyes—filled with mockery and disdain—fell on her like one might glance at garbage rotting on the street.
This face.
The same face that had deceived her so thoroughly in her past life. The same man who had once whispered promises of forever, only to betray her ruthlessly and shove her into ruin.
Hatred coiled through her veins like venomous serpents, surging so violently it nearly burst through her restraint. Her nails dug into her palms, the sharp sting of pain forcing her back into icy control.
Around them, the waiting girls stirred, their whispers swelling in waves. All eyes darted between the two with hungry curiosity.
Lu Ziming's name had been climbing steadily in the industry, thanks largely to his carefully staged "scandal coupling" with Zhao Qian. In the world of second-tier actors, he had managed to claw his way into relevance.
And everyone knew—at least vaguely—of his past entanglement with Bai Chenxi.
Now, the "fallen ex" clashing with the "rising star" was nothing short of a live spectacle.
The girl clinging to Lu Ziming giggled shrilly, her gaze sweeping Bai Chenxi up and down with obvious contempt."So this is your ex, Zi Ming ge? Honestly… she's not much to look at, is she?"
Chenxi didn't so much as flick her gaze toward the girl. Instead, her eyes—sharp and cold as scalpels—locked on Lu Ziming.
And then, she smiled. Not warmly. Not with affection. But with the faint, inscrutable curve of a blade before it strikes.
"Mr. Lu," she said calmly, her tone polite yet detached, as though addressing a stranger. "Do we know each other?"
The title struck like a slap. Lu Ziming blinked, momentarily thrown off. He had expected anger, embarrassment, perhaps even desperate pleading. Not… this icy composure.
His brows furrowed. "Bai Chenxi, don't play games. Do you really think this coy act will win back my attention?"
Her lips parted in a quiet laugh—soft, elegant, and utterly scornful.
"Mr. Lu," she murmured, her voice laced with ridicule. "Confidence is admirable. But overconfidence? That's just a joke."
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze flicking with pointed disdain to him and his current arm candy."My time is valuable. I don't waste it on childish games. As for you…"
Her voice paused, deliberate, her words slow and cutting."…perhaps you should spend less energy provoking others, and more on protecting your own image. After all—maintaining that single, clean-cut bachelor persona you're selling to fans must be exhausting. Wouldn't want to ruin it, would you?"
Her words, casual and unhurried, landed like invisible blows.
She had publicly stripped away his carefully crafted facade, hinted at his moral failings, and dismissed his provocation as unworthy of her time—all in one breath.
Around them, muffled snickers escaped from the watching girls.
Lu Ziming's face flushed a deep, ugly red. His hand shot out, finger trembling as he jabbed at her. "You—!"
"Number 37, Bai Chenxi!" The staffer's irritated voice cut through the tension, calling her in. "Please enter. Now."
Chenxi didn't spare him another glance. With graceful precision, she smoothed back a loose strand of hair, lifted her chin, and walked forward. Her spine was straight as a blade, her every step radiating poise.
She pushed open the audition room door under the weight of dozens of gazes, unbothered, unshaken.
Behind her, Lu Ziming's livid expression seemed to belong to another world—insignificant, petty.
Because she was not the clown in this scene.
She was the main act.
The door clicked shut, sealing off the whispers and chaos outside.
Inside, the lighting was sharp, focused. The panel of producers and judges sat in a row, their pens poised above scripts and notes.
Chenxi's eyes swept over them quickly—until they froze, her breath catching in her throat.
At the far end of the table sat a man.
Impeccably dressed in a black tailored suit, his frame lean yet powerful, his presence so commanding it seemed to bend the very air around him. He leaned back slightly in his chair, long fingers lazily flipping through a dossier.
His face—handsome beyond reason—remained expressionless, cold, detached, as though nothing in the world could stir his interest.
Li Sijue.
Her heart lurched violently. Why is he here?
A low-budget web drama's audition should never have warranted his attention.
Even after rebirth, even with her hardened resolve, Bai Chenxi's pulse stumbled.
As if sensing her stare, Li Sijue slowly lifted his eyes.
Those fathomless, glacial pupils locked onto her, pinning her where she stood.
For a moment, the air itself froze.
Four eyes met across the room.
And the world seemed to stop.