Li Sijue's "protection" came swiftly and without disguise.
The very next day, a cold-faced young man named Amo appeared at Bai Chenxi's side. Officially, he was introduced as her new assistant. In truth, he was her shadow—never more than a few steps away, his gaze sharp as a hawk's. His every movement carried the quiet precision of someone highly trained.
The crew noticed, of course. Whispers fluttered like moths in the shadows. Speculation about Chenxi's connection to Li Sijue grew wilder by the hour. But no one dared voice it openly. Not with Li's power looming overhead. And with his silent protection in plain view, the subtle slights and ostracism Chenxi had endured before faded quickly into caution, even grudging respect.
Then the preliminary investigation of the wire accident came out.
It was no accident at all.
The harness ring had been tampered with—deliberately weakened using a specialized corrosive solution. Invisible to the eye, it had given way the moment full weight bore down. The work was professional, discreet, calculated.
Director Zhang erupted in fury, demanding a full-scale probe. But with so many hands moving on set each day, the culprit was difficult to pinpoint.
Chenxi, however, didn't need a full investigation to guess.
The ones with both motive and malice were obvious: Zhao Qian, Lu Ziming. Yet they were filming in another city, far from this production. Could their reach extend so far?
Amidst the tension, the crew was startled by an unexpected visitor.
Gu Chenyu.
The top-charting singer-songwriter turned award-winning actor—an idol beloved across the nation—arrived to pay a visit. His presence alone sent a ripple of excitement through the set.
But what surprised everyone most was his destination. He walked straight past the director, past the producers, until he stood before Bai Chenxi, waiting quietly at the side.
"Miss Bai," his voice was warm, his smile like spring sunlight, "an honor at last. I watched your audition for Princess Huayang. It was… remarkable."
The praise was earnest, unguarded, carrying no hint of condescension.
Chenxi blinked, caught off guard, then inclined her head politely.
"Mr. Gu, you flatter me."
The moment between them—two figures speaking with quiet respect—was captured in another pair of eyes.
From the tinted window of his van, Li Sijue sat watching. His fingers, holding a folder, tightened imperceptibly.
Gu Chenyu's visit was like a breeze clearing heavy clouds.
He charmed the crew, lifting spirits, and even proposed composing and performing the theme song for Phoenix Crying Above the Nine Heavens. A gesture of support that made headlines inevitable.
Yet for Chenxi, the winds of attention felt less like blessing and more like warning.
Li Sijue's shadowed protection. Gu Chenyu's open admiration. Together, they thrust her—an actress once written off as ruined—back into the burning spotlight.
And shadows, she knew, always hunted the light.
That night, after filming wrapped, Chenxi returned to her hotel.
The corridor was silent, the air faint with the scent of fresh polish. She unlocked her door, but before she pushed it open, something caught her eye.
A slip of paper had been shoved through the narrow gap beneath the door.
She bent, picked it up.
A single line of text, printed in stark black:
"This time it was the harness. Next time… will it be your precious son?"
Her blood ran cold.