Public [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 02

**Chapter 2: The Rose in No Man’s Land**

As Qin Mang finished speaking, the entire hallway fell into deathly silence.

Everyone watched as she walked toward He Lingji.

The long hem of Qin Mang’s dress spilled across the ornate, luxurious carpet, each step exuding an innate grace that seemed woven into her bones.

As she drew closer, she could even catch a faint scent from the man—like a wisp of cold fragrance accidentally escaping from melting glaciers, only to be quickly buried again under layers of ice.

The more untouchable it was, the more it tempted her to seek it out.

Qin Mang had always acted on impulse, but after two years in the entertainment industry, she had learned a little about social niceties.

For example—

When asking for a favor, one should be polite.

So after a moment’s thought, she looked at He Lingji and sincerely complimented him:

** »You smell nice. »**

Ah, the adult world was truly full of hardships.

Qin Mang gave herself a perfect score for her progress in *The Art of Flattery*.

** »…! »**

**How bold!**

The onlookers, shocked, couldn’t help but whisper among themselves—

* »Oh my god, is she trying to get He Lingji’s attention like this? »*

* »Overestimating herself. Everyone knows He Lingji is only interested in power and ambition, not love or women. Countless talented and beautiful socialites have failed—how could a mere pretty-faced actress like her dare to dream? »*

Even Qin Mang’s manager, Meng Ting, wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

His decade-long career as a manager was about to be ruined.

But Qin Mang paid no mind, waiting calmly for He Lingji’s response.

He Lingji lowered his gaze, silently watching her like an exquisitely carved ice sculpture—a divine masterpiece looking down upon mortals, distant and untouchable.

There was no emotion in his expression.

Nor any intention to answer her.

* »Tsk tsk, she’s definitely going to be kicked out. »*

* »Oh no, I can’t stand secondhand embarrassment for beautiful women. »*

* »There’s no way He Lingji would fall for such a clumsy… »* attempt at seduction.

Before the words could fully leave their mouths—

He Lingji withdrew his gaze and turned to his secretary standing respectfully beside him. His thin lips parted slightly—

Everyone held their breath, waiting for He Lingji’s judgment on Qin Mang.

The man’s deep, cool voice rang out:

** »Clear the area. »**

Two simple words, and then he continued on his original path toward the owner’s cabin, as if he were a judge who held the power of life and death but couldn’t be bothered to wait for the verdict.

The crowd silently exhaled, their minds echoing the same thought: *As expected!*

Being kicked out was her fate.

Some were already gloating at Qin Mang—like Yao Ting and her group.

But then—

Something unexpected happened.

Secretary Cong, left behind to « clear the area, » first brought over a brand-new shawl and respectfully approached Qin Mang.

* »The deck is windy. Please take this. »*

Qin Mang draped it over herself with ease, the delicate fabric covering her porcelain-like skin.

* »How thoughtful, »* she replied lazily.

Then, Secretary Cong signaled the bodyguards to « clear the area »—while he personally escorted Qin Mang to the owner’s cabin.

**Ten minutes later.**

Outside the yacht, the crowd—now forcibly removed by bodyguards and crew—stared at each other in disbelief before turning their shocked gazes toward the massive vessel.

So, when He Lingji said « clear the area, » he meant—

**Them?!**

**……**

Meng Ting was still in a daze as A’Tong helped him out.

* »Will Sister Mang be okay in there alone? »* A’Tong asked worriedly.

Meng Ting, recalling Qin Mang’s bold declaration of * »I’m going to sleep with him, »* took a long moment before murmuring, * »The one in danger is probably He Lingji. »*

In her two years in the entertainment industry, Qin Mang—with her breathtaking beauty—had attracted no shortage of high-quality suitors. Yet she hadn’t shown interest in a single one. Meng Ting sometimes wondered if she was the reincarnation of Narcissus, so in love with herself that she had no room for men.

But now, she was suddenly taking the initiative.

It was hard not to suspect she had an ulterior motive—like securing the most powerful backer possible.

Which raised the question—

Given Qin Mang’s self-centered, defiant personality…

Would she really think that far ahead?

Before Meng Ting could ponder further, a well-known media figure approached with a cigarette, striking up a conversation:

* »So… your Qin Mang knows that man? »*

People in media were sharp.

Meng Ting understood—this was probing.

After all, He Lingji’s name carried weight in any circle.

Meng Ting didn’t actually know Qin Mang’s background, but based on her proud, unrestrained personality, ingrained aristocratic manners, and extravagant spending habits, he could guess she came from wealth.

But that was it. In her two years in the industry, she’d never shown any powerful connections—let alone any ties to a top-tier figure like He Lingji.

After weighing his options, Meng Ting decided to act.

* »Our Mang Mang is introverted and shy, completely devoted to acting. She’s very simple when it comes to relationships. As her manager, I try to give her freedom—we can’t treat artists like criminals, prying into every little thing, right? »*

The other man: * »… »*

**Are you serious?**

He had witnessed the entire scene on the yacht.

**Introverted?**

**Shy?**

**Who?!**

Just then, Meng Ting spotted Yao Ting in the distance and excused himself.

* »Sorry, I have some matters to attend to. »*

After all, he still had to clean up the mess his star left behind.

The media figure, left without any useful information, could only watch Meng Ting walk away, his curiosity burning—

**What exactly is their relationship?!**

### **Owner’s Cabin**

The owner’s cabin took up the largest area of the yacht, resembling a luxurious master suite. Through the semi-circular windows, the vast ocean stretched endlessly.

The ink-dark clouds had quietly dispersed, replaced by a silver crescent moon casting its glow over the waves, as if lining them with delicate silver edges—ethereal and serene.

Qin Mang didn’t need any electronic meditation aids. The night sea was enough to calm her restless mind.

The girl sat on the bay window, her body naturally running hotter than most. Even in the temperature-controlled cabin, she felt a faint warmth.

The silky shawl slipped halfway down her slender arm, draping lazily as moonlight bathed her jade-like skin.

The sound of running water filled the air.

Qin Mang’s thoughts wandered, her mind occupied with how to bring up * »The Dream of Old Peking »* to the investor currently showering.

Though they’d been married for a while, theirs was a business arrangement—no emotional attachment whatsoever.

**Three minutes later.**

* »Mr. He, do you need help? »*

Qin Mang stood outside the bathroom door and knocked three times.

* »Ouch. »*

Her hand stung.

**This door was too hard!**

Before she could wait for a response, she instinctively lifted her wrist to her lips, blowing on her reddened knuckles.

Then—

A soft click sounded as the door opened.

He Lingji stepped out, his gaze landing first on the girl’s pouted lips, then on her fluttering lashes—like fragile butterfly wings.

His fingers, tying the sash of his robe, paused briefly.

Hearing the sound, Qin Mang looked up.

Seeing the man’s movement, an idea struck.

Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

* »Let me help you with that! »*

He Lingji’s deep, cool eyes studied her for a few seconds. He had intended to refuse, but remembering her status as *Mrs. He*, he replied indifferently:

* »As you wish. »*

He released the sash.

The silk robe, though covering him fully, hinted at the perfectly defined abs beneath—all eight of them.

Qin Mang’s lips curved, a trace of slyness slipping through.

He Lingji noticed.

**Was tying a sash really that exciting?**

Occasionally, her soft fingertips brushed against his skin.

A simple robe sash took Qin Mang a full five minutes to tie—just to show her dedication.

Just as He Lingji’s patience was about to wear thin, Qin Mang patted the neatly tied bow.

She made sure to display the red marks on her fingers prominently.

* »My hands are red from tying your sash. Surely Mr. He isn’t stingy enough to refuse me compensation? »*

Recalling the scene in the hallway an hour ago, He Lingji smirked.

* »A hand insured for hundreds of millions must indeed be delicate. »**

In five more minutes, even those faint marks would disappear.

**He knew?!**

* »It is delicate, »* Qin Mang pressed her lips together, then dropped the act entirely.

* »So I’ll settle for the female lead in *The Dream of Old Peking*. »*

She said it as if it were the most natural request.

After all, she and Shen Wanyin were on equal footing in terms of acting. Given that, why not choose the more beautiful one?

**Made sense, right?**

* »The Dream of Old Peking? »*

He Lingji quickly retrieved the relevant details from his precise, machine-like memory.

**So that’s what this was about.**

After a moment, he calculated and replied calmly:

* »I’m the one losing out. »*

Qin Mang: * »? »*

He Lingji had already walked past her toward the bed, casually adding:

* »Go shower. »*

Hearing those three words, Qin Mang suddenly understood!

**Ah.**

**So this was how it worked.**

The adult world truly ran on equivalent exchange.

Tying a sash wasn’t enough.

Secretary Cong was always thorough. The bathroom was already stocked with her usual toiletries. If He Lingji weren’t so hard to poach, Qin Mang would’ve tried to recruit Cong into her studio long ago.

She meticulously showered and applied skincare, ensuring every inch of her skin was soft and fragrant before finally wrapping herself in a rose-pink silk robe.

He Lingji sat by the bed, seemingly reading a document. Hearing movement, he glanced over—

The girl stood barefoot on the black carpet, her newly painted velvet-red toenails contrasting starkly against her porcelain skin. The interplay of black, white, and red formed a mesmerizing portrait of decadent beauty.

He observed her calmly for a moment before returning to his document, his elegant fingers turning the page unhurriedly.

Qin Mang noticed his reaction and immediately switched to her most alluring smile, her voice a soft whisper:

* »Mr. He… shall we? »*

** »… »**

He Lingji reached over, wordlessly adjusting her loosely tied robe and tightening the sash properly before calmly withdrawing.

* »Miss Qin, I am a principled businessman. I don’t engage in inappropriate relationships. »*

**Huh?**

**HUH?!**

Qin Mang’s usually seductive eyes widened in disbelief. After a long pause, she managed:

* »Why? »*

**Who rejects a delicacy served right to their lips?!**

He Lingji had already finished reading. He stood, turning off all the lights.

In the pitch-black room, only the cold metallic window frames reflected the moonlight.

His voice, calm and detached, cut through the darkness:

* »The cost outweighs the benefits. »*

Qin Mang, a novice in *business negotiations*, had just suffered her first major defeat.

**Since when did capitalists consider cost-benefit analysis in affairs like this?!**

**Wait—**

So when He Lingji tied her sash earlier…

Did that mean they were even?

**Because that didn’t cost him anything!**

By the time Qin Mang realized she’d been fooled, she turned indignantly—

Only to find the man already lying still, eyes closed.

Under the faint moonlight, his features were flawlessly handsome, like a painting.

His sleeping posture was impeccable—hands folded over his waist, as if measured with a ruler.

Qin Mang swallowed her words.

She didn’t dare actually disturb him.

In the year they’d been married, He Lingji had been constantly busy, often away on business. This time, he’d been gone for over two months, so their interactions had been limited.

She didn’t know him well.

But her instincts for self-preservation warned her that, despite her boldness, she shouldn’t push his boundaries.

**If at first you don’t succeed…**

**Give up.**

Qin Mang rolled to the other side of the bed, drawing a clear line between them before sleep.

She thought she’d struggle to fall asleep in a new place, but—

She drifted off almost instantly, even dreaming.

In her dream, she wore a red dress, dancing gracefully—until flames suddenly licked up from her feet, rapidly engulfing the fabric.

Just as the heat became unbearable, a coolness seeped into her senses—like stumbling upon a glacier in the desert.

But soon, the ice melted under her touch.

Displeased, Qin Mang tried to push it away.

Then—

A hand gripped her wrist.

Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to open her eyes.

The first thing she saw was a pair of dangerously intense eyes.

In the darkness, He Lingji’s usually icy blue-gray pupils burned like molten lava breaking through glacial cracks.

Qin Mang, now fully awake, realized—

**The « ice » in her dream had been He Lingji.**

A surge of envy rose in her.

**What kind of freakish metabolism did this man have to stay cool in summer?!**

Her body ran hot, especially in warmer months. She often woke up to find her neatly tied robe mysteriously gone.

Qin Mang’s mind raced. With a sleepy yet cunning glance, she struck first:

* »Weren’t you the principled businessman who ‘doesn’t engage in inappropriate relationships’? What’s this—hugging an actress in the middle of the night? How polite. »*

He Lingji’s fingers brushed a stray lock from her face. Qin Mang shivered slightly.

His voice, usually cool, carried a rough edge as he uttered a single syllable:

* »Mn. »*

The scent of roses—wild, untamed—lingered between them, lazy yet forbidden.

So He Lingji saw no reason to deny himself.

He murmured, * »Mrs. He. »*

A clear reminder.

**Tch.**

**This bastard just wanted a free pass.**

Logically, Qin Mang wanted to refuse—otherwise, she’d lose face.

**But whatever.**

**Fine.**

Hadn’t Meng Ting said she wasn’t good enough?

Just then, He Lingji glanced at the wall clock.

**4:00 AM.**

His dark eyes returned to the breathtaking beauty in his arms—her hair fanned across the pillow, every strand exuding a devastating allure.

**Not enough time.**

As Qin Mang braced herself—

* »Then let’s— »*

Before she could finish, He Lingji suddenly pulled away, leaving only a detached remark:

* »I’ll borrow something. »*

Then, he pointed at the soft lilac gauze tied around her ankle.

In the dim light, his fingers looked like cold jade, every vein exuding aristocratic refinement.

Yet those same fingers now held a delicate, provocative fabric.

* »You— »*

He Lingji stood by the bed, adding politely:

* »Thank you. »*