Two months. That's all it took for the storm named Lu Jingyan to rise again.
Golden Age Entertainment had been the cradle of her return, and under its shimmering banner, she soared. In just eight weeks, she'd gone from the whispered-about heiress of a fallen empire to the most sought-after name in the fashion and media industries.
Magazine covers? She graced the front of six top publications across Country C and two international spreads. Brand endorsements? The biggest cosmetics and luxury fashion houses were practically lining up at Golden Age's doors with blank checks.
Her social media presence had exploded too — every photo, every interview, every red-carpet moment meticulously curated but never fake. There was a quiet authenticity in her gaze, a wounded dignity, and a burning fire no amount of scandal could douse. She wasn't just a trend; she was *the narrative*.
In her private office, newly renovated on the 9th floor of Golden Age's headquarters, Mei Xiaotong was hunched over the desk, going through the newest partnership proposals.
"Jingyan," she called out without looking up, "Dior just confirmed the runway shoot in Paris. They're requesting exclusivity for the next three months if you agree."
On the other end of the room, Lu Jingyan adjusted the buttons of her tailored blazer in front of the mirror. Her reflection looked nothing like the broken girl who once walked out of the Leng manor. Her heels were sharp, her eyes sharper.
"I'll do Paris," she said. "But no exclusivity. If they want my face, they play by my terms."
Mei grinned. "That's my girl."
At that moment, the door opened, and Hua Shu stepped inside. Her sleek black dress swayed gently as she walked, phone in hand, a proud smirk painted across her face.
"I just finished a call with Chanel's regional director," she announced. "They want a sit-down dinner with you this week. Private. Very hush."
Jingyan raised a brow. "So it begins."
"It began the moment you stepped in front of that camera," Hua Shu said. "And now the world's begging to catch up."
"You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not. I invested in you, didn't I?"
Xiaotong chuckled, tapping her tablet. "I swear you two were made for each other. Cold-blooded queens."
Lu Jingyan smiled, but beneath the layers of polish, her heart was steady and cool. She had learned the game the hard way — and now she played it better than anyone else.
But the price of that lesson still sat like a shadow in her chest.
Later that afternoon, after a brief photo shoot with a high-end accessories brand, she descended the grand marble steps of Golden Age's front lobby. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, hair pulled into a clean twist, every inch the icon she had rebuilt herself to be.
Mei Xiaotong walked beside her, still talking numbers. "After Paris, we fly straight to Country F. The charity gala is confirmed. You'll be seated with the ministers and possibly the crown rep. It's the cleanest route to restoration."
"I don't want restoration," Jingyan replied smoothly. "I want evolution."
"Then you're already doing it."
But as they reached the main glass doors, Jingyan's steps faltered.
Just beyond the entrance, standing against the golden evening sun, was a figure dressed in black. Lean, tall, composed.
Leng Xuanmo.
He hadn't changed much — still that same unreadable expression, still the quiet intensity that refused to shrink in any room. But there was something different in his eyes, something not even power could mask.
Regret.
Mei followed Jingyan's gaze and her voice immediately dropped. "Should I call security?"
"No," Jingyan said, her tone unreadable.
Hua Shu, now behind them, stepped forward too — protective but silent.
He took a step forward.
So did she.
A heartbeat passed. Neither looked away.
Then, he spoke.
"Long time no see," Leng Xuanmo said.