Mu Bai walked out of the director's office, her heels clicking lightly against the polished marble floor. The cool air of the hallway brushed against her face, but her mind was already focused on her next destination. Thanks to the memories she had inherited from the original Mu Bai, she knew exactly where she was going — the elevator at the end of the long, well-lit corridor.
The walls here were lined with framed photographs of the company's most famous stars. Their carefully styled smiles and glamorous poses seemed to follow her as she passed by. Some were actors she had personally helped make famous; others were faces from before her time. All of them, in one way or another, represented the prestige of the Mu Corporation.
She reached the elevator doors and pressed the button. The soft ding echoed in the otherwise quiet corridor, and the brushed silver doors slid open with a smooth motion. She stepped inside, the faint scent of fresh polish lingering in the air. The elevator's interior was lined with mirrors on three sides, reflecting her sharp, elegant figure from every angle. The floor indicator above the door glowed warmly as the numbers ticked downward.
When the doors opened again one floor below, Mu Bai stepped out and walked down another short hallway. Here, the atmosphere felt slightly different. This was the floor where the acting training rooms were located — a place filled with ambition, sweat, and dreams of stardom.
Her steps were steady, unhurried, yet they carried a quiet authority. She reached the door of the training room for the actresses and paused.
From behind the closed door, she caught faint traces of voices. To most people, the sound would have been completely inaudible — the training rooms were built to be soundproof, after all. But Mu Bai was not like most people. Her hearing was sharper, her senses more finely tuned than ordinary humans. Even through the insulation, she could make out the rhythm of speech, the soft rise and fall of laughter, and the occasional clear note of someone delivering lines.
Her hand closed around the cool metal doorknob. With a soft click, she turned it and pushed the door open.
The moment she stepped inside, a bright flood of light from the overhead fixtures poured over her, momentarily making her narrow her eyes. The sudden rush of chilled air from the air conditioning wrapped around her like a wave, a stark contrast to the mild warmth of the hallway outside. Her skin prickled slightly from the change in temperature, and she instinctively frowned at the abrupt shift.
Inside, the room was spacious with a polished wooden floor that reflected the overhead lights. Mirrors lined one wall from end to end, and in the center of the room stood several young women. Their voices died instantly as soon as they noticed her presence.
The silence that followed was sharp, almost tense. The actresses, caught mid-conversation or mid-practice, turned toward her with surprise flickering in their eyes. But the moment they recognized who had entered, their postures shifted almost in unison. Backs straightened. Hands lowered to their sides. Their expressions became guarded but respectful, as though they were soldiers standing before a high-ranking commander.
It was only natural. Mu Bai was not just another company executive — she was the pinnacle of status and influence, both in the entertainment industry and in the world of the wealthy elite. Her reputation was unmatched. To these actresses, she was someone far above their reach, the very embodiment of success and power.
Curiosity stirred in their eyes despite their efforts to hide it. What could possibly bring someone like her to this training room? She had no need to personally check on the daily practice of junior actresses. Her time was far too valuable for that.
But none of them dared to voice the question. This building — every room, every corridor — belonged to her family. In truth, even they themselves, as contracted talents, were considered assets of her company. It was not their place to ask why she was here.
At that moment, the veteran acting teacher, a woman in her late forties with neatly tied hair, quickly made her way over. Her smile was polite, but there was an obvious hint of flattery in it, the kind of practiced smile used for people far above one's station.
"H-hello… Director Mu," she greeted, her voice almost too careful. "Are you… looking for someone?"
Mu Bai barely glanced at her before her eyes began to sweep the room. There were six people present besides the acting teacher, all of them young women at various stages of their training. Yet her gaze moved past each one without lingering — until it found her.
The person she had been hoping to see.
Her expression didn't change, but there was a subtle shift in her focus, a kind of quiet intensity that made it clear that in this moment, no one else in the room existed in her eyes.
The others might as well have been invisible.
"Shen Ming, lend me a few minutes."
The acting teacher, a woman who had been in the industry for more than two decades, didn't take Mu Bai's indifference to heart. She was used to it. After all, someone of Mu Bai's standing — a woman who stood at the very peak of both the entertainment and business worlds — would naturally carry herself differently from ordinary people. It wasn't arrogance in the shallow sense, but the calm distance of someone who had seen far too much, who had little reason to engage in small pleasantries with those far below her level.
In truth, the teacher had long learned that people like Mu Bai did not waste expressions lightly. Warm smiles, friendly greetings, unnecessary explanations — these were things they reserved for situations that truly mattered. To expect otherwise would be naïve.
Besides, the acting teacher knew her place. She was a contracted employee, nothing more. Her job was to teach acting skills to the company's trainees, to polish them until they shone brightly enough to stand on screen. She had no right to pry into Mu Bai's personal motives, much less question why the legendary Director Mu had appeared in the training room. The inner workings of someone like her were far above what a simple teacher needed — or dared — to know.
She immediately looked towards Shen Ming and smiled slightly before calling for her in a gentle voice,
"Little Ming.. come here… director Mu is looking for you."
At the words of the acting teacher, Shen Ming stepped out from behind a few of the other actresses. Her movements were graceful but unpretentious, like the slow unfurling of a blossom in morning light. All the while, Mu Bai's eyes followed her figure with an intensity so palpable that it was impossible for anyone in the room to ignore. It was not the casual glance of a passing acquaintance — it was focused, unwavering, almost as though Mu Bai feared that if she blinked, the woman before her might disappear.
Shen Ming was wearing a loose linen dress in a soft, muted shade that did not compete with her natural beauty. The fabric draped gently over her slender frame, swaying lightly as she moved, the folds catching tiny eddies of air from the air conditioner. Her waist, slim and willowy, shifted with a gentle rhythm as she walked, neither hurried nor slow, her steps light yet certain. There was nothing overtly revealing about her attire — her waist was completely covered, the neckline modest, the sleeves falling in a natural fold. And yet, that very modesty seemed to enhance her charm, leaving more to be felt than to be seen.
Her beauty was not the kind that struck like a lightning bolt at first glance. Instead, it seeped quietly into the senses, drawing you in little by little until you were lost without knowing when it had happened. Her skin was smooth, pale yet carrying a faint warmth, as though light itself lingered there. The soft sheen of it stood out even under the artificial brightness of the room. Her eyes, framed by long, delicate lashes, were the most arresting feature — dark, deep, and clear, holding the quiet mystery of a deep pool that reflected light only when it wished to.
As she walked toward Mu Bai, the room seemed to narrow, every sound softening, every movement around them fading into the background. The faint scent of her — clean, fresh, with just the lightest hint of something floral — mingled with the cool air, reaching Mu Bai before Shen Ming herself did. Her hair, tied loosely behind her, had a few rebellious strands that framed her face, moving slightly with each step and softening the refined shape of her jawline.
When she finally came close to Mu Bai, Shen Ming lifted her head slightly, meeting Mu Bai's gaze directly. In that moment, something subtle but undeniable shifted in her expression. Just a heartbeat ago, there had been a faint trace of shyness in her eyes, the kind of quiet reserve one might have when meeting someone powerful and unfamiliar. But as their eyes locked, that shyness faded, replaced by something far more complex — a calm composure tinged with an emotion Mu Bai could not quite name. It was as if the person before her suddenly gained a sort of enlightenment on the spot.
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