Chapter 56
Chapter 56: Sorry, the Su Embroidery Was Given to Someone Else
In all her years in entertainment, the agent had never heard the name Wan Tian Qing.
And Ye Jia Ling’s popularity wasn’t something just anyone could latch onto.
“Of course,” the agent added coolly, “those are only the initial requirements. There will be more.”
Her eyes flicked to the box on the table. “If you can’t meet even one condition, our artist won’t wear your company’s clothes. This is the first outfit, right?”
She reached for the box—
—and grabbed nothing.
The agent’s expression darkened. “What do you mean? You’re backing out?”
“Yes.” Ye Wan Lan lifted the box into Cheng Qing Li’s arms. “We’re not supplying costumes anymore.”
She spoke with quiet finality. “If Miss Ye wants outfits, there are plenty of companies willing to provide them. You don’t need us.”
“Good,” the agent sneered. “Jia Ling doesn’t lack options.”
Her voice sharpened. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You just want to use Jia Ling’s fame.”
Otherwise, why would a no-name company send three kids?
And now they were throwing a tantrum, acting like they were the ones doing the favor.
Ye Wan Lan didn’t spare her a glance. “Let’s go.”
“Sister Lan!” Cheng Qing Li hurried after her, clutching the box. “Ye Jia Ling is the female lead. If she won’t wear our clothes, what do we do?”
Wouldn’t their whole plan fall apart?
“Clothes should go to people who understand them,” Ye Wan Lan said evenly. “I’m not handing Su Embroidery to someone like that.”
“I’m not letting that arrogant celebrity wear what I made, either,” Jiang Xu Lin muttered, one hand in his pocket. “I’d rather burn it than see her ruin it.”
Cheng Qing Li’s expression soured. In public, Ye Jia Ling had a reputation for being gracious and kind—someone who would even help a fallen fan to their feet.
But up close, her team made it obvious: it was a persona. Carefully crafted. Cold underneath.
“Come on,” Ye Wan Lan said, checking the time. “We’re going to find someone.”
Jiang Xu Lin and Cheng Qing Li exchanged a look. “Who?”
Ye Wan Lan smiled faintly. “Nie Shuang Yi.”
Nie Shuang Yi—female role number five in Thousand Autumn Years.
—
In a private dressing room on set, Ye Jia Ling reclined with a sheet mask on her face. Hearing the door, she spoke without opening her eyes. “Back already? How did it go?”
“That Wan Tian Qing company is some fly-by-night nobody,” the agent snapped. “They clearly wanted you to give them free publicity.”
She paced, irritated. “I’m not letting you be used. And they had the nerve to act big. They took the clothes back on the spot.”
Ye Jia Ling frowned. “They took them back?”
“I didn’t even open the box. Do they think we care?” the agent scoffed. “It’s not like it was Su Embroidery or Cloud Brocade—worth its weight in gold. They’re taking themselves way too seriously.”
A nameless company like that only needed to be shut out once. If Ye Jia Ling said she wouldn’t work with them, no other artist would dare touch their clothes.
They were naive—newborn calves with no fear because they didn’t know how sharp the knives were.
“They really refused?” Ye Jia Ling sounded surprised. “Those were basic conditions.”
She had 20 million fans on Weibo, a tidal wave of traffic behind her. Big fan accounts regularly cataloged what she wore and hunted down matching items. Even a glimpse of her phone case could start a fresh sales craze.
Manufacturers had sent her the newest phones just to get her to use their cases.
With an opportunity like that, Wan Tian Qing had still turned their backs?
Ye Jia Ling shook her head, genuinely regretful. “No wonder they’re small. Short-sighted.”
“You brought in 10 million in funding,” the agent said. “The crew isn’t poor. I don’t understand why they were pinching pennies with a tiny company.”
She straightened, satisfied. “Good thing we planned ahead. Sheng Group will provide your costumes.”
Ye Jia Ling nodded. “If it’s Sheng Group, that’s reliable.”
She leaned back again, already done thinking about Wan Tian Qing.
—
In the dressing room next door—
“You’re… here for me?”
Nie Shuang Yi stared at Ye Wan Lan and the other two, then pointed at herself.
“Miss Nie,” Ye Wan Lan said with a polite smile, “we’re the costume supplier for the Thousand Autumn Years crew. Since you’re here, we brought your outfit.”
“That’s very kind.” Nie Shuang Yi poured three cups of tea and gestured them in. “Tomorrow is the kickoff ceremony—an assistant could’ve handled this.”
Even as she spoke, confusion tugged at her. Since when did a fifth female role get treatment like this?
“It’s valuable,” Ye Wan Lan said. “It should be delivered personally.”
She glanced at Cheng Qing Li. “Qing Li.”
Cheng Qing Li set the box on the table and opened it.
Nie Shuang Yi looked once—
—and shot to her feet. “Su Embroidery?!”
What kind of company was this, to pull out Su Embroidery so casually?
The outfit was a full historical set, with a matching fan.
And the fan was Su Embroidery too—more than that, it was Double-Sided Three-Different Embroidery.
Double-Sided Three-Different Embroidery meant both sides were embroidered, with completely different stitching, colors, and patterns—front and back like two separate worlds.
Nie Shuang Yi couldn’t hide her shock.
Everyone knew the war three hundred years ago had shattered Shen Zhou. The nation had nearly collapsed, and its cultural inheritance had snapped in one brutal severing.
The economy and heavy industry had recovered, but intangible heritage had fallen behind.
Once-glorious arts—Kun Qu Opera, Su Embroidery, the guqin, Ke Si Tapestry, Cloud Brocade—were now barely breathing.
Scarcity made everything priceless. A small panel of Su Embroidery could fetch a sky-high price, appearing only at high-end auctions.
This outfit had to cost well over a million.
“No.” Nie Shuang Yi closed the box like it might burn her. “It’s too precious. I can’t wear this. Work like this belongs in a museum—I…”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I have more anti-fans than other celebrities have fans. I’m not worthy.”
“Clothes are made to be worn,” Ye Wan Lan said. Her gaze was steady. “Miss Nie, don’t look down on yourself. Your looks and presence are outstanding. This outfit was tailored for you. It will fit.”
Cheng Qing Li blinked, suddenly suspicious.
Had Sister Lan known from the start that Ye Jia Ling wouldn’t wear their clothes?
Nie Shuang Yi exhaled and her shoulders slumped. “Miss Ye, you don’t understand the mess of the entertainment world. If I wear this in the drama, Ye Jia Ling’s fans will scream that I’m stealing the spotlight and tell me to get out of the industry.”
She and Ye Jia Ling were under the same company, but one lived in the sun while the other stayed in the gutter.
Her role in Thousand Autumn Years had come from being packaged and tossed in—nothing more.
Ye Wan Lan nodded as if she’d expected it. “Fair point.”
She paused, then said, “But what if I want you to wear it during your upcoming offline promotions—so you can help us promote Shen Zhou’s culture?”
“That… I can do.” Nie Shuang Yi’s eyes brightened. “Craftsmanship like this should be seen. It’s just—”
Her expression dimmed again. “My reputation is bad. If I wear it, I’ll drag it down. You should find someone with better public favor—better passerby luck.”
“Wow,” Jiang Xu Lin said, already scrolling. “Three million fans. Hate-to-love ratio ninety-nine to one. Impressive.”
He looked up. “Why do you even post? It’s all people cursing you. Huh. Some of these insults are creative. I should study them.”
Nie Shuang Yi smiled sweetly. “Any problem?”
Her smile vanished. “If you do, shut up—before I break your legs.”
Jiang Xu Lin flinched hard enough to take a step back. “With that temper, it’s a miracle you’re still in the industry.”
Ye Wan Lan held out her hand. “Miss Nie. I look forward to working with you long-term.”
Nie Shuang Yi hesitated.
Then, finally, she placed her hand in Ye Wan Lan’s. “All right.”
—
As they left the lounge, Ye Wan Lan tossed a second box at Jiang Xu Lin.
He caught it, shook it. “What’s this?”
“Hand cream. Hand masks. Essential oil.”
Jiang Xu Lin recoiled. “Why would I use skincare? I’m a grown man.”
“I insured your hands,” Ye Wan Lan said.
Jiang Xu Lin stared. “What?”
“100 million. So behave.”
“…What?”
Jiang Xu Lin looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
Cheng Qing Li beamed. “Brother Jiang, you’d better protect your hands. Not for anything else—those hands are key to reviving Su Embroidery.”
She tilted her head, still smiling. “Of course, if you insist on doing something dangerous like racing, that’s fine too. If your hands are gone, Sister Lan gets 100 million in compensation.”
Jiang Xu Lin’s face went dark. “…So my hands are more important than I am.”
“Yes,” Cheng Qing Li said brightly.
Jiang Xu Lin: “…”
Ye Wan Lan’s gaze sharpened. “Jiang Xu Lin, I don’t just want to revive Su Embroidery. I want Shen Zhou’s luxury brands to go global one day. I want Su Embroidery, Cloud Brocade, and Ke Si Tapestry to return to the world and reclaim their peak.”
Her voice cut clean and steady. “Before that happens, your safety must be protected at the highest level.”
Heat surged in Jiang Xu Lin’s chest. “All right!”
It was his parents’ last wish too. He would see it through.
“Your parents’ death wasn’t just an accident,” Ye Wan Lan said. “Half the reason they died in that car crash was because someone wanted to destroy Su Embroidery’s inheritance.”
Jiang Xu Lin’s blood ran cold. “…”
“Be ready for an assassination attempt.”
Jiang Xu Lin: “What? What?!”
That was not something he could prepare for.
His phone rang, saving him from speaking. He answered, still rattled.
“Hello, Aunt. We’re already on set.”
He paused. “You’re coming too? Aren’t you busy? Shouldn’t you be in Yun Jing today?”
As the top director of Zhao Yan Group, Quan Zhao Ning lived in airports. Some days she took two flights before nightfall.
“I’m in River City already,” Quan Zhao Ning said. “My plane just landed. See you in an hour.”
He heard the faint click of sunglasses. “I won’t come onto the set. I don’t want anyone giving you attitude.”
In the entertainment world, no one dared slap her in the face.