Sister Liang kept her head lowered.
“That’s your personal business,” Vivian said quietly.
She did have questions, but respecting another person’s privacy was the least one could do.
Sister Liang gave a bitter smile.
“Personal? It’s all because of work, really.”
“Work?” Vivian frowned.
“You asked me earlier why the company’s so intent on promoting Molly, didn’t you?”
Her eyes lifted, glistening with a weary heaviness.
“Because she’s got someone powerful backing her.”
“Someone? Who?”
Vivian was stunned.
If Summer Wen—Molly—really had such a big backer, then why would Helen Zhao spend years clinging to George Wen and the Wen family fortune?
Sister Liang only shook her head.
“That’s not something people like us are meant to know.
In this industry, girls like Molly are everywhere. Without backing, without someone powerful to lift you up, you’ll never make it—no matter how hard you work.”
Her voice trembled.
“I graduated top of my class from Capital University.
I thought joining Huasheng Entertainment would let me prove myself.
But after ten years, I’m still just managing fringe artists, never even close to a director’s seat.”
“Meanwhile, the younger, less capable ones—those with connections—are now handling top-tier celebrities. And me…”
Her eyes shimmered with tears.
The alcohol had loosened her guard, and for once, she spoke with raw honesty.
“So tonight—” Vivian prompted softly.
“That man from Joy Media told me he was close with Director Wen.
Said he could help me get promoted.
I was stupid enough to believe him.
Instead, he just wanted to get me drunk and…”
She broke down, covering her face.
Vivian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
The ache that rose inside her was sharp and familiar.
They were both dreamers—believing talent could conquer reality.
But the world was cruel, and dreams rarely survived its teeth.
“It’s not your fault,” Vivian murmured.
“It’s this industry that’s wrong.”
Sister Liang sobbed harder.
Just then, a shadow fell over them.
A hand appeared from behind Vivian, holding out a bottle of water—
and a small vial of pills.
She turned.
Simon Min stood there, tall and composed.
“Hangover medicine,” he said simply.
She blinked. She’d thought he’d left.
But he’d gone to buy these for them.
Touched, she took the medicine, coaxing Sister Liang to swallow it down.
“Thank you,” Sister Liang said weakly after a while.
“I feel better already.”
She gave Simon a small, appreciative smile.
“Is this your boyfriend?”
Vivian froze.
“No, no! We’re just… friends.”
Simon’s expression darkened.
After a pause, he said coolly,
“Since everything’s fine, I’ll go ahead.”
He turned, walking a few paces—then looked back.
“There’s a curfew at home. Don’t come back too late.”
Vivian blinked.
Curfew? Since when did we have a curfew?!
Sister Liang chuckled softly.
“You live together and still claim he’s not your boyfriend?”
“He really isn’t!” Vivian protested, face hot.
“All right, all right. I can go home by myself.”
Sister Liang stood, glancing back toward the club.
“You came here with friends, didn’t you?”
Vivian gasped.
Oh no—Sophie’s birthday party!
“Right! I’ve got to go!”
She hurried off.
Back at the private room, she braced herself for Sophie’s scolding—
only to find her best friend passed out cold on the sofa, snoring softly.
Vivian sighed, helped her into a cab, and took her home.
By the time she returned to Jiangshui Court, it was past midnight.
She slipped the key in quietly, hoping not to wake Simon—
but he was sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine.
“Mr. Min, you’re still up?” she asked, surprised.
He set the magazine aside, rose without a word, and disappeared into his room.
Vivian stood there, dazed.
Was he… waiting for me?
That night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Sister Liang’s words kept echoing in her mind—dreams, compromises, the price of survival.

The next morning, a news alert flashed across her computer screen:
Joy Media’s web drama banned for explicit sexual content and violence.
Vivian’s mood brightened instantly.
Serves them right.
That evening, she brought it up to Simon with enthusiasm.
“Can you believe it? Joy Media’s been blacklisted across every platform!
Victor Wen must’ve handled it. He’s incredible—decisive, fearless, totally righteous!”
Simon’s face darkened, his expression unreadable.
He had been the one to order it.
And yet, somehow, Victor Wen got all the credit.