The entrance to Starlight Entertainment was a cathedral of glass and steel, a monument to the vanity and ruthlessness of the entertainment industry. For Mo Yan, it was a battlefield.
Five years ago, she had been dragged out of this very building, her reputation in tatters, accused of a scandalous affair that never happened. Today, she walked back in, not as a victim, but as a nightmare draped in silk.
The corridor leading to Audition Room 4 was crowded with aspiring starlets. Most were dressed in the "pure and innocent" style currently popular in the capital—pale pink dresses, soft curls, and wide, feignedly naive eyes.
Among them, Mo Yan was a jarring anomaly. Her blood-red coat and the sharp, predatory curve of her lips made her look like a wolf in a field of sheep.
"Is that... Mo Yan?" a whisper rippled through the crowd.
"No way. I heard she ended up in the gutters of Europe. Why is she back?"
"Look at her skin... it's like porcelain. And that aura... she feels even more dangerous than before."
Mo Yan ignored the buzzing flies. She checked her reflection in a compact mirror. Her eyes were calm, but deep within them burned a fire that could incinerate the entire building.
"Sister! I really didn't think you'd have the face to show up here."
The crowd parted as Mo Ruirui approached. She was the current "Golden Girl" of Starlight, wearing a white designer dress that cost more than most people earned in a year. Beside her was Chu Feng, the man who was once Mo Yan's fiancé, now Ruirui's doting partner.
Chu Feng looked at Mo Yan, and for a second, a flash of regret and desire crossed his face. Mo Yan had always been the true beauty, a diamond that made Ruirui look like a piece of glass. But he quickly masked it with disdain.
"Mo Yan, leave," Chu Feng said, his voice cold. "Ruirui has already been shortlisted for the lead role. Your presence here only creates trouble for the family. Don't make me call security."
Mo Yan finally looked at him. It was the look one gives a smear of dirt on a shoe. "The family? You mean the people who forged my signature and stole my mother's shares? And you, Chu Feng... calling security on me? You forget that I'm the one who taught you how to walk in these circles. Without me, you'd still be a second-rate manager."
"You...!" Chu Feng's face turned a mottled purple.
Ruirui grabbed his arm, acting the part of the peacemaker. "Brother Feng, don't be angry. Sister has been through a lot. She's probably just bitter. But Sister, this role is for the 'Villainess Queen.' It requires a level of complexity and regal grace that... well, let's just say it's not for everyone."
Mo Yan leaned in, her voice a chilling whisper that only Ruirui could hear. "The role is about a woman who hides a heart of stone behind a beautiful face. You shouldn't have any trouble with the 'fake' part, Ruirui. But you lack the soul. Watch me."
"Number 47! Mo Yan! Enter!" the assistant shouted.
Inside the audition room, the atmosphere was suffocating. Director Feng, a man known as the "Iron Dictator" of the film world, sat behind a long desk. He was famous for making actresses cry within thirty seconds.
Beside him sat several producers, all looking bored. However, one seat remained empty—the seat reserved for the mysterious primary investor from the Lu Corporation.
"Mo Yan," Director Feng grunted, not looking up from his notes. "I remember you. Five years ago, you had potential. Now? You're just a scandal with a pulse. You have two minutes. The scene is the Queen's Final Judgment. Convince me, or get out."
Mo Yan didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
She took off her red coat, revealing a simple, backless black dress that clung to her figure like a second skin. She stood in the center of the room, her eyes closed.
The producers started to whisper. "She's just standing there. What is she—"
Suddenly, Mo Yan opened her eyes.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Her posture shifted; her shoulders relaxed into a position of absolute, terrifying power. She didn't look like an actress anymore. She looked like a monarch who had just watched her empire burn and decided she liked the color of the flames.
She walked toward the judges' table. Every step was deliberate. She stopped in front of Director Feng, but she didn't look at him as a subordinate. She looked down at him.
"You speak of treason?" she began. Her voice wasn't a scream; it was a low, melodic thrum that vibrated in the bones of everyone present. "I gave you the soil to stand on. I gave you the air you breathe. If I decide to take it back, it is not 'treason.' It is 'reclamation.'"
She reached out and slowly picked up Director Feng's pen from the table. She turned it in her fingers as if it were a dagger.
"Guard your neck, my King," she whispered, a terrifyingly beautiful smile playing on her lips. "For I am the one who sharpened your crown."
The silence was absolute. Director Feng was frozen. He had seen thousands of auditions, but he had never felt actual fear from an actress before.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the room swung open.
The security guards straightened like boards. A man stepped in, flanked by an aura of pure, unadulterated dominance. It was Lu Zhenting.
Behind him, a small figure followed—the boy from the airport, Little Chen. The child was carrying a tablet and looking incredibly bored until his eyes landed on Mo Yan.
The "Ice Prince" of the Lu family, who was rumored to never show emotion, suddenly broke into a run. He bypassed the guards, ignored his father, and ran straight to Mo Yan, grabbing her hand.
The producers gasped. The Director's jaw dropped.
Lu Zhenting walked forward, his eyes locked on Mo Yan. He had been searching for the woman who had captivated his son at the airport, and here she was, standing in the middle of his own production company, looking like a dark goddess.
"The audition is over," Lu Zhenting announced, his deep voice echoing through the hall.
Ruirui, who had sneaked into the back to watch Mo Yan fail, turned pale. "Mr. Lu! But I haven't even performed my best scene yet! Mo Yan is a disgraced—"
Lu Zhenting didn't even turn his head. "I don't care about her past. I care about my son's future. And my son has decided he wants this woman."
He looked at Mo Yan, a flicker of something—was it amusement? Challenge?—in his dark eyes. "The role of the Queen is yours. But the contract has a rider. My son refuses to eat or sleep unless you are present. You will film during the day, and you will stay at the Lu Manor at night."
Mo Yan narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Lu, are you hiring an actress or a nanny? My price is very high."
Lu Zhenting took a step closer, his scent of sandalwood and cold rain enveloping her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear.
"Name your price, Mo Yan. Money, fame, or the heads of the people who betrayed you... I can give you all of it. In exchange, you just have to be the 'Mother' my son demands. And perhaps... the 'Wife' I require."
In the hallway, the sound of Ruirui's heart breaking and her ego shattering was almost audible. The "face-slapping" had only just begun.