Public [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 01

**Chapter 1: The Icefield Beyond**

The desert sunset burned the sky into a canvas of rich, extravagant hues, stretching endlessly into the vast sea of sand.

A young woman in a flowing red water-sleeve dress danced barefoot atop a majestic, snow-white lion, its fur pristine and sacred. The sheer fabric of her dress, delicate as cicada wings, cascaded down the lion’s back like a waterfall of silk.

From afar, she resembled a fiery lotus rooted in the desert, swaying in the breeze, her vibrant colors merging with the horizon.

An ornate gemstone belt cinched her slender waist, its jewels tinkling with every movement—a sound so intoxicating it seemed to claw at the heart, resonating deep within the soul.

It made one want to kneel before her, to offer everything.

As the camera slowly zoomed in, capturing the moment she turned her head—

*Click.*

The video playing on the tablet was abruptly paused by a slender, fair finger.

** »What are you doing? »**

Meng Ting, who had been holding his breath, jerked his head up to glare at the culprit—only to freeze when his eyes met hers.

His breath hitched.

Inside the van.

Qin Mang had woken up early to prepare for today’s audition. Exhausted, she had dozed off the moment she got back into the vehicle.

Yet when she opened her eyes, she found her manager watching her debut video on loop.

She released the screen and casually brushed aside the long hair draped over her shoulders, her voice still laced with sleep. ** »That video’s a year old. Why keep watching it? »**

** »Am I not more beautiful in person? »**

Meng Ting choked.

If anyone else had said that, he’d have called them narcissistic.

But coming from Qin Mang—the woman dubbed *the top-tier siren of the entertainment industry*—he couldn’t argue.

Qin Mang’s beauty was striking, almost aggressive. Her features were exquisitely sharp, her skin a cool porcelain white. The tiny red mole at the tip of her nose was like an artist’s final brushstroke—bold, vivid, and utterly breathtaking.

And then there were her eyes.

Dark, translucent, and brimming with emotion, her lids tinged with a faint blush like ink-washed watercolors. When she gazed at someone, it was hypnotic.

After a few seconds of silence, Meng Ting surrendered and swiftly changed the subject.

** »What’s the use of just being beautiful? As netizens say, your beauty lasts… eight seconds. »**

He reopened his tablet and showed her the trending hashtag on Weibo:

**#QinMang’sTwoYearAnniversary #StillANewbie**

Qin Mang’s faint smile faded. Her lips pressed into a cold, sharp line.

Meng Ting watched her expression with satisfaction, thinking she’d finally grasped the severity of the situation.

But then—

** »Are they… implying you don’t have the resources to promote me? »**

** »Well, it’s the truth. Just endure it, Brother Meng. »**

Meng Ting nearly choked. ** »Cough—! »**

The hashtag was mocking *her* for being a花瓶 (*huāpíng*—a pretty but useless vase), not him!

Every time he tried to get her to attend events for exposure, she’d laze around, doing nothing productive! And now she had the audacity to twist the narrative!

Qin Mang’s most viral work was still that debut video—the one he’d been rewatching—which had amassed over 100 million views.

Two years ago, Qin Mang had skyrocketed to fame with that single dance. As her manager, Meng Ting had been lucky to sign her, pinning high hopes on her flawless, cinematic bone structure.

But—

Her overwhelming beauty had also typecast her.

Non-actors like her were dismissed as all looks, no skill. The roles she was offered?

Gorgeous, scene-stealing beauties with barely any lines—trapping her in a vicious cycle.

And—

** »Who says I don’t have resources?! »** Meng Ting snapped, indignant. ** »Who got you the audition for that film today? If you’d just put in the effort, secured the lead role, and proved your acting chops, you could shake off this ‘vase’ label! Then scripts would be lining up for you! »**

** »Vase? »**

Qin Mang took a sip of water from her assistant, A-Tong, her voice laced with amusement. ** »Even if I am a vase, I’d be an imperial porcelain masterpiece—the rarest, most exquisite kind! »**

A-Tong, who had just tugged the奶茶色 (*nǎichá sè*—milky tea-colored) blanket back over Qin Mang’s lap, caught a glimpse of her ankle.

The delicate straps of her heels wrapped around her fair skin, making her ankle look like a work of art.

Hearing Qin Mang’s words, A-Tong nodded fervently. ** »Yes, yes! »**

Meng Ting: ** »… »**

*Was that the point?!*

He took a deep breath.

*Calm down. You chose to manage this diva. Now you have to deal with her.*

** »Qin Mang! »** he said sternly.

** »What? »** She pulled the blanket tighter and curled back into the leather seat.

Meng Ting’s expression turned grave. ** »For *Dreams of Old Beijing*, aside from you, Director Zhou is also considering Shen Wanyin. She debuted a year earlier than you and already won Best New Actress. And—she’s your direct competitor. Before you came along, *she* was the internet’s top浓颜系 (*nóng yán xì*—sharp, striking beauty) actress. »**

*Dreams of Old Beijing* was a major S+ production, directed by Zhou Shuyuan after a decade-long hiatus. The female lead had to be a peerless beauty, and Meng Ting had privately recommended Qin Mang.

Director Zhou didn’t care about Qin Mang’s « vase » reputation—her looks fit the role, so he was willing to give her a chance.

But now, out of nowhere, a formidable rival had appeared.

** »The worst part? »** Meng Ting dragged out his words. ** »I heard Shen Wanyin tried to steal the role by meeting the film’s investor—a big shot who happened to be at her audition. The higher-ups are already leaning toward her. »**

Qin Mang slowly straightened, her long lashes casting shadows over her eyes. Her voice was icy. ** »So it’s settled? »**

She had spent three months preparing for this role—taking shooting lessons, practicing elegant smoking poses—only for it to be a waste of time?

*The young miss was not pleased.*

Meng Ting hesitated. ** »Not exactly— »**

Then, as if remembering something, he added matter-of-factly, ** »But since she met the investor, we should too. We need to show him you’re even more stunning than Shen Wanyin! »**

Tonight, the producer was hosting a party on a private yacht—coincidentally owned by the investor. Meng Ting had pulled strings to get an invite.

With a flourish, he waved the entry pass.

Qin Mang understood.

Her lips curled into a dangerous smile. ** »What are you saying? »**

** »You want me to go entertain some man over drinks? Should I sleep with him too while I’m at it? »**

That smile wasn’t directed at him—it was a siren’s lure, meant to claim souls.

Meng Ting’s scalp prickled. ** »Who said you’d get the chance?! »**

**?**

Qin Mang: *Oh? So now I’m not good enough?*

Meng Ting took a deep breath. ** »Relax. The investor is famously disciplined—ascetic, even. Rumor has it he’s still… untouched. You wouldn’t even get through the door! »**

His final words rang with conviction.

His gaze seemed to say: *You’re just a little demon lusting after a god.*

** »… »**

Shenzhen’s summer weather was as capricious as ever.

One moment, the sun scorched the earth, the air shimmering with heat. The next, dark clouds loomed overhead, plunging the van into gloom.

** »It’s going to rain, »** Qin Mang murmured lazily.

Meng Ting smiled. ** »Even if it rains knives, you’re going. »**

—

### **7:00 PM**

The heavy clouds hadn’t dispersed, but the private marina was brightly lit.

A luxurious yacht loomed in the distance—four stories tall, complete with a helicopter pad. It sat silently on the dark water like a slumbering beast, majestic and intimidating.

Guided by the crew, Qin Mang and her team stepped onto the main deck.

** »The party is in the semi-open area ahead, »** the crew member said. ** »Due to the weather, the cruise has been canceled. Please enjoy yourselves. »**

Even from afar, the lively atmosphere was palpable.

Qin Mang lifted her skirt, ready to head in—

When Meng Ting yanked her into a corner. ** »Hold on. »**

Her skirt fluttered back down. She shot him a cold look. ** »Now what? »**

Meng Ting lowered his voice. ** »I did some digging. Producer Jiang invited a lot of elite socialites tonight—the kind who could blacklist us with a snap of their fingers. So be humble, be polite, and *don’t* act like a spoiled princess. »**

The distant sea was serene and mystical, but it did nothing to improve her mood.

Qin Mang scoffed. ** »Am I here to meet the investor or to worship saints? »**

** »Should I kowtow to each of them to show my respect? »**

Used to her sarcasm, Meng Ting handed her his phone with a grin. ** »No need. Just take this. »**

The screen displayed a black background with a white wooden fish—a digital *muyu* (Buddhist wooden fish).

Tap it, and the text read: *Merit +1*

Qin Mang stared. ** »What… is this? »**

** »An electronic *muyu*, »** Meng Ting said solemnly. ** »If you feel your temper flaring, go to the bathroom and tap it. »**

He demonstrated:

* »Tap, tap, tap. »*

** »Calm. »**

** »Qin Mang~ »**

* »Tap, tap, tap. »*

** »Qin Mang~ »**

** »Calm. »**

** »… »**

Before they’d even entered the party, Qin Mang’s head was already throbbing.

Her years of practiced composure nearly shattered.

*Forget tapping the wooden fish—she wanted to tap him into silence and hire a mute manager.*

She pressed a finger to her temple and exhaled. ** »Shut. Up. »**

—

### **The Party**

The venue was massive, occupying most of the yacht’s deck. Lavish and opulent, it buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses.

Qin Mang waited on the terrace while Meng Ting scouted for the investor.

Dressed in a black velvet gown, her wavy hair cascading down her bare back, she looked like a vintage poster come to life—stunning, magnetic.

Within half an hour, she’d collected a stack of business cards from admirers.

She fanned them idly, her smile polite but distant.

Then—

A gold-embossed card appeared before her.

** »Miss Qin, I’m Yu Chen from Chendu Tech. I— »**

Qin Mang glanced at it.

*The 14th one.*

*Oh. A CEO.*

Remembering Meng Ting’s warnings—*these people could ruin you*—she forced a smile and held out her palm. ** »Thanks. Just add it to the pile. »**

Her tone was icy beneath the courtesy.

Yu Chen froze, staring at the thick stack in her hand.

He didn’t know whether to place his card or not.

A-Tong facepalmed and mouthed: * »Man-ners. »*

Qin Mang frowned. *She was being polite!*

She’d even said *thank you*!

After a pause, she added earnestly: ** »Thank you… sir? »**

*There. Extra polite.*

*Now leave.*

But as another man approached with champagne, Qin Mang’s patience snapped.

She stood abruptly. ** »Find Meng Ting. I need to *cool off*. »**

The word * »cool off »* dripped with venom.

—

### **Powder Room**

Under the ornate faucet, icy water streamed over Qin Mang’s jade-like fingers.

She washed them for a full minute before leaning against the vanity, tapping the electronic *muyu* on her phone.

*Stay calm.*

*This is adult socializing.*

*Don’t lose it.*

* »Tap, tap, tap, tap… »*

*Ugh!*

*Still furious.*

Why was she even in the entertainment industry?

Just as she’d finally gotten close to landing a lead role, someone had to interfere.

And now she had to *socialize*.

And *not* lose her temper.

Her tapping grew more erratic as she glanced around.

The yacht was absurdly luxurious—even the powder room was decked out in high-end skincare.

*This investor was clearly loaded.*

She *needed* a yacht like this to soothe her wounded pride.

Then—

Voices drifted in from the hallway.

** »I counted—14 men. She’s quite the charmer. »**

** »What do you expect from a花瓶 (*huāpíng*—pretty vase)? No acting skills, but plenty of *bed* skills. That’s how she climbs the ladder. »**

** »Who do you think she’ll sleep with tonight? »**

** »CEO Yu? CEO Zhou? Rumor has it she’s competing with Shen Wanyin for *Dreams of Old Beijing*. Maybe Producer Jiang— »**

Yao Ting’s voice cut off abruptly.

In the mirror, she saw *her*—the woman with the face that launched a thousand ships.

Silence fell.

Except for—

* »Tap… tap, tap, tap… »*

The digital *muyu* continued its irregular rhythm.

Yao Ting recovered quickly. There were five of them—what was there to fear?

She smirked. ** »Why don’t we ask the lady herself? »**

** »Miss Qin, which bed are you climbing into tonight? »**

As a fellow actress who’d debuted around the same time, Yao Ting had always been overshadowed by Qin Mang’s fame. Recently, though, her web drama had blown up, and she was riding high.

Qin Mang ignored her, focused on her phone.

* »990… »*

* »991… »*

*Just 9 more taps.*

*1,000 merits.*

*Enough to lose her cool.*

When Qin Mang stayed silent, Yao Ting assumed she’d won.

She stepped closer, faux-concerned. ** »Miss Qin, can’t decide? Need suggestions? »**

Her lackeys chimed in: ** »Sister Ting, you’re too kind. »**

* »1,000. »*

Qin Mang straightened, set her phone down, and sauntered toward the door.

Under the dazzling lights, her devastating beauty was on full display.

She smiled.

The group faltered.

Then—

*Bang!*

Qin Mang slammed the door shut, locking out Yao Ting’s friends.

In one swift motion, she dragged Yao Ting to the open window and shoved her halfway out.

** »Since you’re so *kind*, you wouldn’t mind feeding the poor, hungry sharks, right? »**

** »You lunatic! »** Yao Ting shrieked, her legs dangling over the dark, churning sea. ** »Let me go! »**

** »But liars *should* feed sharks, »** Qin Mang mused, pushing her further. ** »I’m helping you accumulate merits. Repay me in your next life. »**

Her fingers, pale and delicate, dug into Yao Ting’s arm like venomous claws.

** »AHHH—! »**

Outside, the others panicked, screaming for help.

The commotion drew a crowd—including Meng Ting, whose eyelids twitched with dread.

Then he saw Qin Mang stroll out, cool as a cucumber.

His soul left his body.

*We’re doomed.*

He barreled through the crowd, shielding her. ** »Misunderstanding! All a misunderstanding! »**

** »What misunderstanding?! »** Yao Ting, now rescued, trembled like a drowned rat. ** »She tried to kill me! I’m calling the police! »**

The crowd gasped, staring at Qin Mang in disbelief.

** »I was just helping her shake out the *filth* in her brain, »** Qin Mang said sweetly, spreading her hands. ** »And *I’m* the one who got hurt. »**

** »Your skin is so rough—my fingers are *aching*. »**

Meng Ting seized her hands dramatically. ** »Her hands are insured for 100 million! This is a *serious injury*! »**

Someone snorted.

* »Pfft— »*

Under the lights, the contrast between their skin was undeniable.

Yao Ting, fuming, pointed at Qin Mang. ** »You—! »**

Before she could finish, the crowd hushed.

A hush so deep it was eerie.

** »The investor… is here? »**

Qin Mang followed their gaze.

At the end of the hallway, a conference room door had opened.

Inside, bathed in cool, futuristic lighting, stood a group of sharply dressed elites.

And at their center—

A man in a black silk shirt, his posture regal, his features exquisitely cold.

He had the face of a classical painting—elegant, refined, but with eyes like frozen glaciers.

When his gaze swept over the crowd, his irises gleamed an eerie blue-gray, deep and dangerous.

No one dared speak.

Qin Mang looked once.

Then again.

While others averted their eyes, she stared openly—almost appreciatively.

*An old acquaintance.*

And—

** »So *that’s* the untouchable investor? »** she mused.

Meng Ting whispered, ** »Yes! That’s He Lingji—the man even *you* aren’t worthy of sleeping with! »**

Qin Mang twirled the sapphire-encrusted ring on her finger, smirking.

** »Nonsense. No one is *more* worthy of sleeping with him than me. »**

Meng Ting: ** »?! »**

** »Have you lost your mind?! »**

He glanced around—thankfully, no one had heard.

But then—

Qin Mang’s voice, clear and melodious, rang through the hallway:

** »He Lingji. »**