The headlines broke like a storm that refused to pass.
"Famous actress Gu Yichen was seen at a bar late last night!"
"The notoriously rude 'Gu Beauty' of China is once again entangled in scandal!"
Every major entertainment platform carried her name, bold and unmissable, plastered across glowing screens in subway stations, on handheld phones, and along towering digital billboards that flickered above sleepless city streets. The media devoured her existence with an insatiable hunger, dissecting every movement, every glance, every rumor that dared to attach itself to her name.
And beneath those headlines, like a restless tide, came the voices.
"I love her so much!"
"She never knows how to behave. Always in controversy."
"Ugh, she's exhausting."
"Tell me about it."
Praise and disdain collided endlessly, weaving together into the strange, suffocating fabric of her fame. Admirers adored her unapologetic presence, her sharp tongue, and her fearless defiance of public expectation. Critics, on the other hand, sharpened their words like knives, waiting for her next misstep so they could carve her apart again.
Yet, regardless of opinion, one truth remained undeniable.
Gu Yichen was the most famous actress in the world. And equally, she was the most scandal-ridden.
Her name alone carried weight—Gu Yichen. To some, she was an icon. To others, a walking controversy. To the industry, she was both an asset and a risk, a brilliant flame that illuminated everything while threatening to burn it down at any moment.
From the very beginning of her career, she had been a sensation. Not the gentle, carefully sculpted kind that agencies preferred, but something far more unpredictable. She was crude in ways that defied the polished elegance expected of actresses, yet paradoxically meticulous in her habits, her work ethic, and her performances. She did not bend easily, and she never pretended to be anything other than exactly what she was.
And above all, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
Not the soft, delicate beauty that faded into the background, but a striking, commanding presence that made people look twice—and then a third time, just to be sure they had truly seen her.
Inside a high-rise apartment overlooking the glittering skyline, Gu Yichen sat lazily on a velvet lounge chair, one leg crossed over the other as golden afternoon light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched endlessly beyond her, alive with movement, yet distant, as though separated from her by an invisible barrier.
The room itself was immaculate, almost obsessively so. Every object had its place, every surface spotless, every detail curated with precision. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic image the public had of her.
A soft knock broke the silence before the door opened.
"Yichen, Mr. Lei wants to meet you."
Liu Tongtong entered with the efficiency of someone who had long grown accustomed to managing storms. Dressed in a sharp, professional outfit, she carried a document in her hand, her expression calm but purposeful.
Gu Yichen did not immediately respond. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting from the cityscape to the folder in Tongtong's hand. There was a faint disinterest in her eyes, as though she had already grown bored of whatever it contained.
Finally, she reached out and took the document, flipping it open with a careless motion.
"What is this for?" she asked, her voice smooth but edged with impatience.
"This is a contract," Liu Tongtong replied evenly. "Zhentao Cosmetics. They want you as their brand ambassador."
The name lingered in the air for a moment.
Gu Yichen's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. A quiet scoff escaped her as she skimmed through the pages.
"That old monk?" she said, her tone laced with unmistakable disdain. "He's cunning. I don't like him."
There was no attempt to soften her words, no concern for how they might sound. That was simply how she spoke—blunt, unfiltered, unapologetic.
Liu Tongtong, however, remained unmoved.
"But you need his money," she replied calmly. "Just admit it and stop fussing around."
Gu Yichen paused, then leaned back into her chair, letting the document rest loosely in her hand. For a brief moment, the sharpness in her expression softened into something more contemplative, though it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
"Whatever," she muttered. "I just don't like him, that's all."
Her gaze returned to the contract, more focused this time.
"But his money…" she continued, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, "…is important."
There it was—the honesty she never bothered to hide. She lifted her eyes to meet Tongtong's.
"Have you reviewed it?"
"Mm," Liu Tongtong nodded. "It seems tailored to your taste. Favorable terms, strong control over image usage, and minimal restrictions."
That caught her attention.
Gu Yichen straightened slightly, flipping another page with more intent now. The earlier indifference had been replaced with a calculating calm, her mind already dissecting the details.
___
Mr. Zhen was already smiling when Gu Yichen stepped into his office, as though he had been waiting not just for her arrival, but for the performance that inevitably followed wherever she went.
His office occupied the top floor of Zhentao Cosmetics' headquarters, a space designed to impress at first glance and dominate at second. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed a sweeping view of the city below, where traffic streamed like veins of light and steel. The interior was a careful blend of modern luxury and calculated restraint—dark wood panels, polished marble floors, and a faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air.
Everything was curated to project power, taste, and quiet authority.
Behind the wide desk, Mr. Zhen sat with practiced ease, his posture relaxed yet deliberate. The smile on his face was bright—too bright—and lingered just a moment longer than sincerity allowed.
Liu Tongtong walked in first, composed and professional, offering a polite nod before stepping slightly aside to allow Gu Yichen to enter fully.
Yichen did not rush. She moved at her own pace, heels clicking softly against the marble floor, each step measured and unbothered. Her presence alone shifted the atmosphere, as though the room itself had to adjust to accommodate her.
Tongtong had already briefed her thoroughly in the car—what to expect, what tone to adopt, what phrases to use to maintain leverage while preserving the partnership. It had been clear, concise, and strategically sound.
And entirely wasted.
Because Gu Yichen, being Gu Yichen, had no intention of following a script.
In her mind, she let out a quiet snort, already amused by the predictability of it all.
"Ms. Gu," Mr. Zhen greeted warmly, his voice smooth and polished, "how was your day?"
Gu Yichen stopped a few steps from the desk and looked at him properly for the first time. Her gaze was direct, unapologetic, and faintly critical, as though she were evaluating a piece of art she had not yet decided she liked.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, she spoke.
"Old monk, why are you smiling?" she said flatly. "The more you smile, the more fake you look."
The words landed cleanly.
For a fraction of a second, the air stilled.
Even Liu Tongtong, who had long grown accustomed to her client's unpredictability, felt a flicker of tension tighten in her chest.
Mr. Zhen's smile faltered—not dramatically, not enough to betray discomfort to an untrained eye, but just enough to reveal that the remark had found its mark.
And the reason was simple. Mr. Zhen was bald. Completely, unmistakably bald.
It was not a style choice, nor a fashionable statement. It was the result of a long-standing medical condition—one he rarely spoke about and one Gu Yichen had never cared to understand. To her, it had always been a defining feature, one she had long ago reduced to a private nickname.
In her imagination, he had always worn the robes of a monk, detached and composed, though reality contradicted that image entirely.
Because despite his lack of hair, Mr. Zhen was, by most standards, an attractive man. His features were refined, his skin well-maintained, and his demeanor carried a youthful charm that belied his actual age. When he smiled—truly smiled—dimples appeared, and his eyes softened in a way that could easily disarm people.
Especially young women.
And unfortunately, Gu Yichen fell squarely into that category. Though "unfortunately" was perhaps too simple a word.
Because she was not someone who disarmed easily.
"I am here to finalize the deal," she continued, her tone shifting seamlessly into something more businesslike, as though her earlier comment had never happened. She stepped forward and placed the signed contract on his desk with a soft, deliberate motion.
"I received the contract. I signed it. But I want to make something clear." Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"My scandals are mine. My controversies are mine." She paused just long enough for the weight of her words to settle. "I hope you understand what I mean."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Mr. Zhen laughed. It was a full, unrestrained laugh, rich and unexpectedly genuine. His dimples deepened, and his white teeth flashed as the sound filled the room, breaking the tension that had coiled there moments before. It was the kind of laugh that could make people forget themselves, the kind that lingered pleasantly in the air.
"Is that all?" he asked, still amused.
Gu Yichen's expression did not soften.
"And," she added coolly, "I want you to be serious. I hate it when you laugh."
Under the table, Liu Tongtong pinched her sharply, a silent warning wrapped in professional desperation.
But Gu Yichen did not react. Mr. Zhen, for his part, did not seem offended. If anything, there was a flicker of interest in his eyes now, as though her bluntness had shifted from irritation to intrigue.
"So," he said, leaning back slightly, folding his hands together, "how should I act?"
"I believe talking business with a serious tone," Gu Yichen replied, her voice calm and unwavering, "looks more transparent."
The statement hung in the air—simple, direct, and unmistakably pointed.
Then, just as abruptly as she had engaged, she disengaged.
She reached for her bag, which rested neatly on the table beside her, lifted it with a smooth motion, and stood up. There was no formal closing, no attempt to soften her exit. She simply turned and walked toward the door, her heels echoing once more against the polished floor.
Liu Tongtong remained seated for a brief second longer, her expression tight with restrained frustration. Then she quickly stood, offering Mr. Zhen a polite bow.
"Please excuse us," she said, her tone carefully controlled.
Without waiting for a response, she followed after Gu Yichen.
The hallway outside felt cooler, quieter, though the tension had not entirely dissipated.
"What was the meaning of that?" Liu Tongtong asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
Gu Yichen did not slow her pace.
"What?" she replied, her voice carrying a note of genuine indifference.
"What you did in there," Tongtong clarified, her composure still intact but strained at the edges. "That was rude."
Gu Yichen let out a soft scoff. "I was being honest," she said. "Not rude. There is a difference."
She walked faster, her stride lengthening, as though the conversation itself was something she intended to leave behind.
Liu Tongtong stopped for a moment, placing her hands on her waist as she watched her client's retreating figure. A sigh escaped her, heavy with accumulated exhaustion.
"It is time I change to another client," she muttered under her breath. "I am so done with her. She will soon be the death of me."
She shook her head, the weariness evident now, before quickly stepping forward again to catch up. At that moment, her phone rang, the sharp tone cutting through the corridor.
She glanced at the screen, exhaled once more, and answered as she continued walking.
Behind them, the towering glass building stood unchanged, its polished exterior reflecting a city that never paused—just like the woman who had just walked out of it, leaving disruption in her wake as effortlessly as she breathed.