Chapter 10

Chapter 10: 010: A Thrown Light Sign

Under a blaze of flashbulbs and dazzled stares, Qiao Qing Yan walked the red carpet in heels that should have punished anyone else.

The scarlet skirt of her gown flowed around her like liquid flame, melting into the carpet until it felt as if the entire hall had been built just to frame her. Behind her, the crowd became scenery—faces and lights and noise reduced to background.

At the midway signing desk, even the host forgot to breathe for a beat.

The woman approaching looked like a queen heading for her throne—one measured step after another, unhurried, untouchable.

Only when Qiao Qing Yan had already passed the entry point did Xu Shu Jing realize she had been staring like an idiot. She hurried after her, half a step behind.

On camera, it looked almost comical: a queen and her attendant, always arriving a fraction late.

And then the audience recognized her.

The warmth in the air snapped. Malice surged like a wave, loud enough to vibrate through bone.

“Qiao Qing Yan, get out of showbiz!”

“Qiao Qing Yan, get out of showbiz!”

“Qiao Qing Yan, get out of showbiz!”

Thud.

Something flew through the air and slammed onto the carpet, skidding to a stop at Qiao Qing Yan’s feet and cutting off her path.

A light sign.

Qiao Qing Yan lowered her gaze. Two carved characters gleamed on the acrylic—”Yan Di”—and rainbow LEDs rippled across its surface, bright and smug as a taunt.

She raised an eyebrow, bent with easy grace, and picked it up as if she were retrieving a dropped glove.

Then she walked straight toward the fan who’d thrown it.

The girl stood rigid, expression caught between anger and shock.

Qiao Qing Yan placed the sign into her hands, neatly, almost gently. Her voice carried through the shouting—clear, airy, calm enough to be infuriating.

“Hold your idol’s sign properly. If he knew you tossed away something meant for him, he’d probably be sad.”

The fan stared down at the light sign as if she’d just woken up.

By the time she managed to blink, Qiao Qing Yan was already at the signing desk.

The host had gone pale during the throw. For a heartbeat, she’d been certain that once one object flew, others would follow—until the carpet became a battlefield and the venue turned into a stampede.

Instead, the chaos had been defused with a few words.

She hadn’t even heard what Qiao Qing Yan said, not from this distance. She only saw the composure—saw how easily the woman stepped over an ambush and made it look like nothing.

The host forced her smile back into place.

“Welcome, Miss Qiao. Welcome, Miss Xu.”

She turned smoothly toward Xu Shu Jing, thankful for an easier topic.

“Miss Xu, you’ve been nominated for Best Newcomer this year. Congratulations. Do you feel confident about winning?”

Xu Shu Jing had recovered during the walk. She faced the camera with a sweet, practiced smile.

“I’m already very happy just to be nominated. I still need to work harder.”

Then, as if remembering to be gracious, she tilted her head toward Qiao Qing Yan.

“But Sister Qing Yan should be pretty confident this time. I want to learn from Sister Qing Yan and keep polishing my acting.”

Before she turned eighteen, Qiao Qing Yan’s life had been the kind of legend people in the industry whispered about with envy.

After eighteen, everything went downhill.

And the charity short film that had earned her nominations tonight—Best Supporting Actress and Best Actress—had been filmed back when she was still that shining, untouchable name. It had only been shelved because the timing back then hadn’t allowed it to see the light.

The host followed Xu Shu Jing’s cue and looked to Qiao Qing Yan.

“Miss Qiao, are you confident about winning?”

Under the lights, the strapless red gown made Qiao Qing Yan’s pale skin glow, almost too bright to look at for long. The dress hugged her waist into a clean, elegant curve. Even the host—another woman—couldn’t deny the simple truth: Qiao Qing Yan earned her reputation.

That face looked like something the world had been less generous with after her.

Especially the small red teardrop mole beneath her peach-blossom eyes—an accent that turned beauty into something sharper, more dangerous.

And yet…

With a future like that, how had it ended up here?