Lily froze mid-step, her breath catching at the sight before her.
Shin Ling—China's undisputed top actress—was storming down the gilded hotel corridor like a queen who had just been betrayed by her court.
Even from here, she was a vision. Her long black hair, glossy as a midnight river, swayed with every furious stride. The gown she wore was a masterpiece of silk and sequins, clinging to her figure in a way that made every camera love her, while her diamond earrings sparkled like tiny constellations against her porcelain skin. Her beauty wasn't just physical—it was magnetic, the kind that demanded attention without asking for it. No wonder she was the nation's goddess.
But tonight, that goddess looked broken.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting through her flawless makeup, leaving faint dark streaks beneath her eyes.
Then, from behind, a man with sharp features and a tailored suit sprinted after her. His designer shoes slapped the marble floor, his voice thick with desperation.
"Shin! My dear!" His tone cracked, raw and pleading. "I love you! I can't live without you! Please, just stop. Let's talk this out!"
Shin Ling whirled around in one fluid, dramatic arc—so graceful it could have been choreographed—except for the storm blazing in her eyes.
"You should have told that to your parents," she spat, every syllable sharp enough to draw blood, "before they got you engaged!"
The man flinched. She stepped forward, her voice trembling, but louder now.
"I thought you loved me! I gave you my heart, my trust, my soul—and you let them decide our future for you. Do you even know what that feels like?"
He reached for her, his expression hollow with guilt. "It's not like that—"
She cut him off with a bitter laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "It's exactly like that. You chose them. You didn't choose me."
Her breath hitched as she noticed me, standing like a guilty audience member who'd stumbled into the wrong scene. Her gaze flicked to mine—sharp, assessing—before she muttered something under her breath I couldn't catch.
I looked away quickly, cheeks heating. This was not my quarrel.
When I glanced back, Shin Ling's eyes had gone glassy again, but her voice was steel.
"We're done."
She turned and walked away with a regal finality that made her gown flare dramatically behind her.
The man was left rooted in place, as pale as marble, his jaw trembling, tears cutting down his face like surrender. I could almost hear the sound of his world collapsing.
I turned to where Jinhai had been standing—only to find the spot empty.
Well, at least he wasn't as shameless as I was, lingering like some nosy onlooker. Then again, Jinhai Su was one of China's most photographed men. He probably knew when to vanish before being noticed.
I found him moments later, seated on the edge of the table, his hands clamped over his mouth, brows drawn tight. His grey eyes flicked to me, unreadable, before he said in a low, calm voice,
"Something urgent came up. You should get going."
I wanted to ask—no, I wanted to demand—what had shaken him so visibly. But it wasn't my place. We barely knew each other, and this felt like a line I wasn't meant to cross.
"Thank you for everything, Mr. Jinhai.. I mean.. Jinhai." I said softly before slipping out of the suite.
My heels clicked against the marble as I made my way to the lift, pressing the button for the gala banquet hall.
The doors slid shut with a metallic sigh, sealing me away from the chaos above.
And then, like fate had a sense of humor, the same infectious tune from earlier filled the small space—a lilting melody I knew by heart. The Nightingale.
A smile tugged at my lips. That song had carried me through so many lonely nights.
For once, there was no one watching. No one judging. No stepmother with her cold eyes, no stepsister with her barbed words. Just me, my reflection in the lift's gold-paneled walls, and the song I loved.
I closed my eyes and let the first note slip from my lips, soft at first… then louder.
My voice swelled, warm and unrestrained, echoing off the walls. Each note felt like peeling away a layer of the heaviness I'd been carrying for years.
By the time I hit the chorus, I wasn't just singing—I was flying.
And for the first time in a long, long while… I felt free.
What I didn't know then, as my voice soared through the lift, was that someone had just stepped into the lobby below—someone who could hear me.
The lift chimed open with a cheerful ding.
My voice died in my throat, strangled halfway through the note. I froze like a deer caught in headlights.
Standing directly in front of me was a middle-aged man, sharply dressed in a navy suit that screamed wealth and influence. What little hair he had left was swept carefully over a gleaming bald scalp, polished to perfection under the hall lights. Behind him, five more people stood in stunned silence, their jaws slack as if they'd just seen an alien step out of the lift.
"Oh… shucks," I muttered under my breath, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me whole.
Then, before I could decide whether to run or fake a faint, the bald man began clapping.
"Bravo! Bravo!" His voice boomed down the hall, startling me. "Tu étais fantastique! Talent extraordinaire!" His French rolled off his tongue like silk, each syllable ringing with genuine excitement.
I just stood there, blinking, still not entirely sure I hadn't fallen into some bizarre fever dream. The man exchanged a glance with a sleek young woman beside him—his secretary, judging by the neat bun and the clipboard clutched to her chest.
She stepped forward with purpose, her heels clicking against the marble. "Miss, would you mind speaking with us for a moment?"
I hesitated but nodded, stepping out of the lift on legs that felt suspiciously like jelly.
The woman reached out, taking my hands into hers as if she were about to deliver a sacred oath. "Our esteemed director, Mr. Yung Li, has flown all the way from Paris to oversee tonight's entertainment for the gala. Many of China's most influential figures are here tonight, and everything must be perfect."
She took a breath before dropping the bomb. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, our lead singer—Miss Shin Ling—has just withdrawn. Mr. Yung Li heard your voice and…" She glanced back at the man, who was nodding with a grin of approval. "He believes you are the perfect replacement. We would be honored if you would take the stage in her place—in the next fifteen minutes."
My heart slammed into my ribs.
Perform. On that stage. In front of them.
This was the dream I'd whispered into my pillow as a girl, the fantasy I'd clung to when reality had been too cruel to bear. But now? Now it wasn't a safe daydream in the privacy of my room—it was a real stage, real lights, real eyes… including the cold, critical ones of my family.
What would they say? What would they do? I could practically hear my stepmother's sharp, scornful voice in my head.
You? On stage? Don't embarrass us, Lily.
The woman must have seen the hesitation flicker across my face because she suddenly dropped to her knees. The clipboard clattered to the floor. "Miss, please. If you don't help us, the gala will fall apart. We'll lose everything—our jobs, our reputations. I have a family to feed. I'm begging you."
The others followed her lead, bowing low, desperation radiating from them like heat.
My breath caught. I'd been looked down on, ignored, and dismissed all my life. Never—not once—had anyone looked at me with hope. And now, here they were, waiting on my answer as though it could save or doom them all.
I knelt quickly, grasping the woman's shoulders. "Please don't kneel. You're elder to me." My voice wavered.
They looked at me, eyes wide and raw with pleading. That fragile thread of hope they held… was now in my hands.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I could run. Hide. Go back to my corner of obscurity.
Or—
I could take the stage.
I straightened slowly, my decision catching fire in my chest. "I'll do it."
Gasps broke around me like the shatter of crystal.
And just like that, the dream I'd never dared chase… came hurtling toward me at full speed.A collective breath of relief swept through them, but my own lungs still felt tight.
Because deep down, I knew—
If I stepped onto that stage tonight, my life would never be the same again.