Mao Li stood in the quiet corridor, the distant hum of the gala muffled behind thick velvet walls, and looked at Hua Jing with an expression that almost betrayed something human. For the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or resentment—but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the same calculated composure he had always worn like armor. He smiled faintly. "Long time no see," he said, his voice low and pensive, though the faint shadows beneath his eyes revealed what pride tried to conceal.
The recent months had not been kind to him. Blue Entertainment, once loud and domineering in the industry, was now gasping for breath. Artists had terminated their contracts one after another, citing "creative differences." Strategic partners had withdrawn overnight. Investors had evaporated. Debts had stacked high enough to crush a lesser man. It was surprising—almost absurd—to see him at an event this public after such a spectacular collapse.
