The official casting announcement of Phoenix Crying Above the Nine Heavens landed in the entertainment industry like a bombshell.
A lineup glittering with top-tier celebrities, award-winning actors, and reigning idols instantly captured attention. But among the dazzling names, the one that caused the loudest uproar was Bai Chenxi—an actress who had vanished from the spotlight for years, tainted with scandal, suddenly returning to take on the second female lead, a role with significant weight.
The reaction was explosive. Social media erupted with accusations and jeers. Netizens scoffed, "She must have crawled into some investor's bed," while gossip columns spun endless conspiracy theories. No one believed talent could have earned her the part.
In her luxury apartment, Zhao Qian's fury was volcanic. She smashed anything within reach, the shards of glass and porcelain reflecting the rage on her contorted face. She had schemed tirelessly to crush Chenxi—yet somehow, her rival had only risen higher.
Chenxi, however, paid no attention to the noise outside. She poured herself wholly into the script, dissecting her role line by line. This was her first battle in her rebirth, and she could not afford to stumble.
The first day on set was steeped in tension. Staff and cast members regarded her with wary curiosity, their gazes cool and assessing.
Director Zhang approached her before the shoot, his tone heavy with meaning.
"Chenxi, I fought hard to get you this chance. I don't care what the world says. In this crew, you prove yourself with your performance."
Chenxi bowed her head, her voice steady. "I understand, Director. Thank you for your trust. I won't let you down."
Her very first scene was a test by fire—a demanding confrontation opposite the drama's second male lead, a seasoned veteran renowned for his gravitas. The setup was complex, with layered emotional beats and heavy dialogue.
Many lingered nearby, hungry for her to falter.
The clapboard snapped down. Action.
And in an instant, Bai Chenxi was gone. In her place stood Princess Huayang—haunted, proud, broken yet unyielding.
She met her former minister in the ashes of a ruined kingdom, her suspicion wavering, her recognition dawning, until grief overtook her composure. Her voice cracked with blood and tears as she whispered, "Lord Li… it has been too long."
The anguish was so raw, so piercing, that even the veteran across from her faltered for a heartbeat, visibly moved.
"Cut! Perfect. One take!"
Director Zhang's stern expression melted into satisfaction.
The crew exchanged startled glances. The whispers that had brimmed with scorn now shifted into grudging respect.
In the industry, nothing shattered prejudice faster than undeniable skill.
By the end of the day, Chenxi's body ached with exhaustion, but her spirit hummed with a long-lost sense of fulfillment.
Back in her hotel room, arranged by the production, she was just preparing to rest when the doorbell chimed.
Her brow furrowed the instant she opened the door.
Standing there was Zhou Chen, the drama's third male lead—a boyish idol polished by talent shows, with an obsessive fanbase and an ego to match. He held a bottle of red wine, flashing what he clearly thought was a charming grin.
"Chenxi-jie," he drawled smoothly, "first day must've been tough. How about a drink? We can… talk about the script."
His eyes, glinting with unmistakable intent, betrayed the pretense.
Chenxi's lips curled in a cold smile. She was about to cut him off when—
From the end of the corridor, a voice rang out. Low. Cold. Absolute.
"She's not available."
The weight of authority in those three words hit like a hammer, silencing the air.