Public [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 07
**Chapter 7: The Soul-Snatching Blade**
The black extended Pullman sped down the airport road, its understated luxury unmistakable as it glided into the quaint, old-fashioned street.
Inside the car.
The young, strikingly handsome man in the back seat wore his tie perfectly knotted, as usual, all the way to the top. Silver-rimmed glasses rested on his nose, his thin lips and cold eyes exuding an air of restrained elegance—like an untouchable ice god towering above mortals.
He flipped casually through a file.
Secretary Cong finished reporting the headquarters’ work updates, then glanced discreetly at his boss’s private phone, which had lit up several times. He lowered his voice. “President He, your phone is ringing.”
He Lingji glanced indifferently at the silenced phone beside him.
The screen displayed:
**Ruan Qizhuo.**
Ruan Qizhuo had grown up in the same compound as He Lingji. Now, he ran a media company, riding the wave of live streaming to great success, and was well-versed in all the industry gossip.
Seeing that Ruan had sent nothing important—just a video—He Lingji initially ignored it.
Until he caught a glimpse of the familiar, beautiful face in the video thumbnail.
His cold eyes darkened slightly.
Handing the file to Secretary Cong, he tapped the video with his long fingers.
On screen.
A female actor, dressed in an elaborate ancient costume, soared effortlessly across rooftops under the blazing sun, suspended by wires, before plunging into flames.
Ethereal, as if enhanced by special effects.
Occasionally, the director’s voice could be heard: *“Again!”*
The actress showed no frustration. Each time she was hoisted back up, she reset her emotions and repeated the scene tirelessly.
She flew through the scorching heat and flames at least seven or eight times before the director finally called *“Cut!”*
The video ended abruptly.
The dim car lights plunged the space back into silence.
The noble, icy man remained expressionless, his lips pressed into a thin line, his jawline sharp and flawless.
He said nothing.
Ruan Qizhuo’s messages popped up one after another.
**[Your wife isn’t just dabbling—she’s risking her life!]**
**[I heard someone’s spending big to suppress this video on all platforms, but it’s still circulating in small circles.]**
**[Wait… was it you who buried it? To make her quit?]**
The more Ruan thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
What elite family would tolerate their lady being a so-called “pretty but talentless” actress? Especially the illustrious He family of Shencheng.
Ruan rambled on.
When they married, Qin Mang had already entered the entertainment industry. She’d mentioned her agency’s “zero-scandal” policy, which meant keeping the marriage secret.
He Lingji had no objections.
Thus, the true identity of Mrs. He remained undisclosed. Only those close to them knew.
He Lingji lowered his eyelids, his deep, ocean-like eyes unreadable.
After a moment, he typed lazily: **[No.]**
Ruan Qizhuo: “…”
Damn.
He hadn’t expected President He—who usually showed zero interest in anything beyond work, planes, and yachts—to actually respond.
Ruan quickly caught on.
From those two words, he sensed an—**opportunity!**
Suddenly excited, he sent a voice message: “A motivational, uplifting video like this deserves maximum exposure on our *patriotic, values-driven* live-streaming platform!”
“So, President He, how about investing in our *‘industry-leading, virtue-promoting, audience-educating’* platform?”
He Lingji replied succinctly: **[Contact Secretary Cong.]**
Ruan Qizhuo: “!”
“Your Majesty is wise!”
He Lingji showed no reaction.
As if absentmindedly, his thumb brushed the screen.
Qin Mang’s usually flirtatious, mesmerizing eyes now shone brighter than the sun and flames, as if piercing through the screen to steal all the light in the world.
Beside him, Secretary Cong kept his eyes down, pretending not to notice his boss replaying the video three times.
Just before arriving at the old mansion, Ruan’s final voice message played:
“Heh, I just saw netizens saying your wife’s acting may be lacking, but she’s *so* beautiful it’s heartbreaking—”
He deliberately drew out his words, teasing:
“Your Majesty… is *this* why you’re heartbroken?”
—
“So, sis-in-law, why did you mistake my brother for someone else?”
In the living room.
Faced with her little sister-in-law’s protective interrogation, Qin Mang closed her eyes in frustration, pressing her delicate fingers to her forehead.
Married for a year.
And she couldn’t recognize her own husband.
What kind of loving couple was this?!
Qin Mang’s brain was overheating.
With just the two of them in the spacious living room, she dropped the act.
Relaxing, she leaned lazily against the sofa arm, her intricate cheongsam and loosely pinned hair creating a breathtakingly alluring contrast. Her slightly downturned eyes looked innocent, but her words were bold:
“A man’s waist is a soul-snatching blade.”
“Can’t I admire it?”
“Not recognizing him is your brother’s fault—”
She paused, as if struggling to say it.
He Xucheng’s eyes widened, sensing gossip:
“What’s wrong with my brother?”
Qin Mang’s red lips curled as she drawled, “He’s… *lacking* in bed—”
She even held up her little finger for emphasis.
Before she could finish.
A deep, cold chuckle sounded.
The two women froze.
They turned in unison toward the source.
The man, who had entered unnoticed, was walking toward them.
He Lingji’s handsome face showed no trace of laughter—just a wintry calm, like mist hiding an unseen threat.
Qin Mang’s heart skipped a beat, but she slowly straightened up, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her cheongsam. Her slender legs crossed elegantly, a sliver of porcelain skin peeking out.
She pretended nothing had happened.
Looking up at him with a bright smile: “Hubby, you’re here.”
“Eavesdropping isn’t nice.”
“What if we were discussing *girl talk*?”
She even flipped the script.
He Xucheng watched in awe.
*Damn, sis-in-law’s composure is next-level.*
Qin Mang subtly waved a hand. *Not that impressive.*
Noticing their silent exchange, He Lingji stepped past the antique screen and approached the sofa.
His long fingers loosened his tie.
Right in front of He Xucheng, he leaned over Qin Mang, bracing an arm on the sofa beside her. Her wide, startled eyes—glistening like water, the tiny red mole on her nose adding a touch of mischief—met his.
A far cry from the determined woman in the video.
Qin Mang’s fingers curled on her knees as his overwhelming presence closed in.
Only then did she notice his glasses today.
Behind the thin lenses, his icy blue eyes stared calmly.
Her mind screamed:
**Danger!**
**Code red!**
In comics, the most twisted killers always had this refined, *seemingly* proper vibe!
Right now, He Lingji was probably plotting a hundred ways to dismember her!
Their breaths mingled, the air growing hotter.
She stammered, “The *kid* is here… behave…”
He·18-year-old high schooler·Kid·Xucheng jumped up. “Nope, I’m gone! Carry on!”
She covered her eyes—with gaps wide enough to fit the universe.
If not for He Lingji’s usual intimidation, she’d have recorded the whole thing.
The next second.
He Lingji closed in.
His lips brushed her delicate ear, his voice frosty as ever:
“Must be fate.”
“Otherwise, how would I know my wife is so—”
“*Un-sat-is-fied.*”
Qin Mang: !
*Lies! Slander!*
*Ahhh, this bastard!*
He Xucheng: !
*Ahhh! Is this PG-13?!*
Luckily.
The timely arrival of He Lingji’s parents saved the day.
His elegant mother, in a dark green cheongsam and jade bracelet, smiled. “What are you talking about?”
“Lingji, who are you *dissatisfied* with?”
She’d caught the last word.
Behind them were other close family members, fresh from touring the newly renovated ancestral hall.
He Lingji straightened calmly.
Casual as ever: “With He Xucheng’s grades.”
Qin Mang quickly adjusted, mimicking his blame-shifting. “Focus on your college entrance exams next month, Chengcheng. No more fangirling, okay?”
He Xucheng: “…”
*So I’m the clown?*
*Are you even human?!*
*My life matters too!*
From then on, He Xucheng was lectured nonstop by the elders throughout the family dinner.
After the dinner.
Before Qin Mang could confront He Lingji, her manager Meng Ting called.
Meng sighed heavily. “I checked with the casting team for *Dreams of Old Beijing*… It’s not looking good. They’re leaning toward Shen Wanyin. The announcement might come in a few days.”
Qin Mang’s lips pressed together. Finally, she scoffed softly. “The crew has no taste.”
“*Zero* taste! When you blow up, they’ll regret it!”
Knowing her temper, Meng tread carefully. “But good news—your filming clip got leaked online. People are praising your dedication!”
(Though the comments also called her a *“stunning but mediocre actress who’s oddly pitiable.”* Meng wisely omitted that part.)
“Whatever. It’s just one role.”
Qin Mang hung up, uninterested in his rambling.
She wasn’t surprised by the热搜 (trending topic)—netizens only ever praised her looks anyway.
To the world, extreme beauty equaled empty-headedness.
Under the wisteria-covered pergola, the purple blossoms swayed in the breeze.
Qin Mang leaned against a wooden post, her lashes lowered, her fingers loosely gripping her phone as if it might drop any second.
Her slender frame looked oddly fragile amidst the flowers.
For all her willfulness, she was just a 22-year-old kid.
At the end of the pergola.
He Lingji stood tall, his presence impossible to ignore.
Already in a bad mood, seeing him made it worse.
She crossed her arms, raising a brow. “What are *you* looking at, scumbag?”
He Lingji paused mid-step, then walked over.
His gaze steady.
After a few seconds of silent standoff, Qin Mang glared.
He Lingji frowned slightly. “You’re upset.”
“Why?”
Qin Mang’s red lips twisted into a smirk. “I’m *not* upset. Even if someone rigged the game and gave the role to his little mistress, I’m *totally* fine with it…”
Her tone grew colder. “After all, this is a *business marriage*. We can always see other people.”
The last line was dripping with indifference.
He Lingji’s expression darkened, recalling her earlier excitement over *“another man.”*
Having vented, Qin Mang felt better.
She strode past him.
Behind her, He Lingji’s cool voice rang out: “Mrs. He.”
“Infidelity is a sunk cost. It doesn’t align with my principles.”
Qin Mang frowned.
What?
Was he… *explaining* himself?
This man couldn’t even bother to tell his wife when he traveled abroad for days.
Why clarify *this*?
—
The ancient alley was shaded by century-old trees, cool even in summer.
Perfect for retirement.
Past the wisteria, the street grew livelier, lined with food and game stalls.
Qin Mang spotted a balloon-shooting booth.
The top prize—a cute lion plushie—caught her eye.
Most patrons here were elderly; few young people ventured this deep.
She approached.
“Interested, miss?” The vendor didn’t recognize her.
“Yes, thanks.”
She took the toy gun, testing its weight—much lighter than the ones she’d trained with.
(She’d practiced sharpshooting for this film role.)
Here’s the translation using simple words and expressions:
—
She had even practiced shooting for a long time, until her shoulders ached every day.
Qin Mang put on disposable goggles, and when she raised the gun, her bright, beautiful eyes instantly turned sharp.
*Bang…*
Not far away, a black luxury car sat quietly.
Through the half-open window, the handsome, lazy face of a man was barely visible.
His tie was missing, and a few buttons of his shirt were undone. The usual cold arrogance was gone, replaced by a more relaxed aura.
He Lengji watched as the balloon burst.
On the ancient street’s stone pavement, a woman in a qipao holding a gun looked like a vintage beauty from an old movie.
In the dull gray tones, she stood out like a glowing gem, waiting to be discovered and shine brilliantly.
Secretary Cong coughed lightly.
He had investigated everything about *Dreams of the Capital*, including that moment when He Lengji had paused briefly upon seeing Shen Wanyin in the audition hall. The higher-ups in the crew had misunderstood it as the investor favoring her for the female lead role.
He Lengji held two reports on the actresses’ data.
Their overall scores were both: 95%.
Aside from other supporting data, their key acting scores were also the same—55%.
A tie.
No wonder she was angry.
The man’s fingers tapped lightly on the paper reports.
*Tap.*
*Tap.*
Each tap made Secretary Cong’s heart race.
Outside the car, the sound of balloons popping continued one after another.
Secretary Cong, trying to guess his boss’s thoughts, cleared his throat. * »This movie has a lot of gunfights. Since Madam is so skilled at shooting, maybe— »*
* »I’m investing in this film, not any particular person in it. If Jiang Yulin can’t do his job as a producer properly, replace him. »*
* »Reorganize the auditions. Director Zhou will oversee them. »*
Choosing a lead actress just because of one glance?
Ridiculous.
* »Replace all the higher-ups in the crew—except the director. »*
The man’s voice was icy to the bone.
Secretary Cong broke out in a cold sweat and quickly replied, * »Understood. »*
Afraid that the next one to be replaced would be him.
—
10 PM, Lakeside Manor.
Qin Mang spent two and a half hours in the bathroom before finally stepping out. She ignored the man leaning against the headboard reading a book and climbed onto the bed, shaking out her soft, fluffy hair.
With red lips and snow-white skin, even without makeup, her complexion was flawless—smooth like porcelain.
Her thin golden silk nightgown trailed almost to the floor, giving off a lazy, alluring charm. The wide sleeves were embroidered with flame-like red patterns that curled up to her shoulders.
As she moved past He Lengji, her sleeve accidentally brushed against his half-bare chest.
Qin Mang quickly pulled her sleeve back, her face scrunched in distaste.
He Lengji laughed in amusement.
* »I— »*
* »Sleep! »*
He Lengji glanced at her slender back, deliberately keeping her distance from him, and calmly agreed.
Then he put the book away and turned off the last light.
Qin Mang thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but once everything was quiet, she drifted off quickly.
At midnight, just as he expected, He Lengji found her naked and curled up against him like a little furnace.
Her body was burning hot, as if beneath her delicate skin lay a raging volcano.
* »Mmm— »*
Qin Mang woke up from the heat—but not her own.
Under her palm were firm, well-defined muscles.
The cool, icy scent of the man surrounded her, mixed with a faint, intoxicating fragrance—like a mysterious, seductive flower blooming alone on a glacier.
Hot and cold clashed, torturous yet addictive.
Realizing what was happening, Qin Mang forced her eyes open and weakly pushed at him. Her voice was hoarse. * »Get off. I’m not in the mood. »*
Just then, her phone rang sharply.
Qin Mang ignored it, but He Lengji tapped the speakerphone button for her.
* »Ms. Qin, this is Gu An, the casting director for *Dreams of the Capital*. We’d like to invite you to the final audition for the female lead at 2 PM the day after tomorrow. »*
At the mention of *Dreams of the Capital*, Qin Mang was fully awake.
She sat up abruptly, her sleepy face now filled with shock.
* »Didn’t you already pick a lead actress? »*
* »Not yet, »* the casting director said firmly. * »It’ll be decided after the audition. Please be there on time. »*
Even after hanging up, she was still dazed.
How did things suddenly turn around like this?
Was it a trap?
Maybe Shen Wanyin and the crew were setting her up for public humiliation as pre-release hype?
Unaware of her nakedness, Qin Mang sat on the black bedsheets, her fair skin glowing, her face serious as she stared at her phone, imagining countless ways the audition could turn into a fight.
Then, He Lengji wrapped an arm around her slender waist from behind. His cool, clear voice melted into her ear:
* »Now are you in the mood? »*
Hearing this, Qin Mang’s eyes sparkled like a galaxy.
A bright, alluring smile curved her red lips as she turned to him in the dark, like a living, breathing enchantress.
Suddenly, she remembered the narrow waist she had seen by the black helicopter, outlined by his belt.
Her soft fingers traced over it as she leaned close to his lips and whispered:
* »I want to be on top. »*
