Jingzhou, entertainment club.
Inside the private room, Leng Xingshuang lounged on the sofa, watching her companions argue over which song to select.
"I want Jiang Han's new song."
"No, I want to play Rong Xianning's."
"A little punk who only covers other people's songs—how does that compare to the creative genius Jiang Han?"
Their argument escalated so quickly that they were on the verge of pulling each other's hair when Leng Xingshuang snapped, "Enough! If you want to fight, do it outside!"
The girls exchanged uneasy glances and fell silent, too afraid to protest.
At that moment, someone walked briskly into the room, approached Leng Xingshuang, and whispered something in her ear.
Leng Xingshuang's delicate brows knitted tightly. "Are you sure?"
"I'm certain," came the reply.
Leng Xingshuang's lips curled into a frosty smirk. "Take some people with us—we're leaving."
