At the door of Room 2808 of the Peninsula Hotel, Lin Xiaoyu took three deep breaths before pressing the doorbell. The sweat on her palms nearly caused her to drop the USB drive and phone in her bag. The door opened, and Chen Ming’s shrewd, worldly face appeared in the crack of the door.

“Miss Lin, right on time.” He stepped aside to let her in. “Mr. Zhou is waiting for you.”

In the living room by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a tall figure stood, gazing at the city skyline. Hearing the footsteps, Zhou Ziyu turned around—without sunglasses or a mask, the face that was so often seen on billboards now looked shockingly real. His features were even more striking in person, but his expression was darker and more brooding than Lin Xiaoyu had expected.

“Give me the photos,” he said directly, his voice low and dark, a stark contrast to his usual sunshine idol persona.

Lin Xiaoyu tightened the straps of her bag. “Mr. Zhou, I’d like to confirm the role of the third female lead in Song of the Clouds first…”

Zhou Ziyu suddenly smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. “Do you think I’m begging you?” He walked to the coffee table and picked up a tablet, turning it toward Lin Xiaoyu. On the screen were pictures of her hometown and her mother shopping at the market.

Lin Xiaoyu’s blood ran cold. “You… you guys…”

“The entertainment industry is small, Miss Lin,” Zhou Ziyu set the tablet down. “I only need one call, and you’ll never work in this industry again. Delete the photos, take the money, and walk away. It’ll be better for everyone.”

Chen Ming timely handed her the familiar brown paper bag, which was now twice as thick as last time.

Lin Xiaoyu’s fingertips went cold. She had thought she was holding the cards, but it seemed they had already figured her out. Just as she reached out to take the envelope, her phone rang. The screen showed “Xu Ya,” and Zhou Ziyu’s expression changed immediately.

“Don’t answer!” he barked, but Lin Xiaoyu, as if on reflex, swiped the screen to accept the call.

“Xiaoyu, get out of there!” Xu Ya’s voice trembled, “Ziyu doesn’t want to help—”

Zhou Ziyu grabbed the phone and smashed it against the wall. The phone shattered on impact. He seized Lin Xiaoyu’s wrist, the force so strong it made her cry out in pain.

“What else did she tell you?” His eyes were bloodshot, like a completely different person. “Where are the photos? The USB? The computer? Tell me!”

Chen Ming rushed forward. “Ziyu, calm down! The security…”

Zhou Ziyu violently shoved his manager aside and pulled out a small pill bottle from his suit pocket. He popped two white pills and swallowed them. A few seconds later, his breathing slowed, and he released Lin Xiaoyu’s wrist.

“Sorry… I’ve been really tired with the filming lately.” His voice returned to its familiar gentle tone, as though the earlier outburst had been nothing but an illusion. “Miss Lin, the 200,000 plus the third female lead role in Song of the Clouds, the offer stands. As long as you promise not to contact Xu Ya and not spread any photos.”

Lin Xiaoyu rubbed her sore wrist, her heart pounding. The pills… the sudden shift in emotions… What did Xu Ya mean when she said, “If something happens…”? She suddenly realized she might have stumbled into something far more dangerous than celebrity gossip.

“I need time to think,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

As she walked out of the hotel, Lin Xiaoyu’s legs were still shaking. She hailed a taxi and gave the address of a café—the backup meeting place Xu Ya had texted her after their first encounter.

In the café corner, Xu Ya looked even worse than before. She kept stirring her now-cold coffee, and several chips of red nail polish were missing from her nails.

“He won’t help me,” Xu Ya’s voice was hoarse. “I thought… at least blood relations would make him pull me out in the end.”

Lin Xiaoyu cautiously asked, “What kind of pills did Zhou Ziyu take?”

Xu Ya suddenly looked up. “Did you see that?” She gave a bitter smile. “Clonazepam, for anxiety. Xu Shichang found him the ‘best’ psychologist, and he’s been on it for five years. Do you know why Zhou Ziyu suddenly became famous at the age of 20? Because that year, Xu Shichang ‘met’ him at a private party.”

Lin Xiaoyu gasped. She had heard rumors about the hidden rules of the entertainment industry, but hearing it from the person involved made her stomach churn.

“Those parties…” Xu Ya’s gaze drifted off, “They drug young actors and film videos… Ziyu is one of the few who made it through and still stayed famous. Xu Shichang treats him like a collection, and I’m just a cover.” She suddenly grabbed Lin Xiaoyu’s hand. “I got pregnant because I was drugged. The child is Xu Shichang’s business partner’s. They want to use this to solidify their relationship…”

Lin Xiaoyu felt dizzy. Xu Ya handed her an envelope. “Here are photos of Ziyu and Xu Shichang, along with backup medical records. If I don’t contact you within three days, please hand them over to the media.”

At home, Lin Xiaoyu hid the envelope Xu Ya had given her behind the refrigerator—the most unlikely place she could think of. Just after doing this, the doorbell rang. This time, it was the delivery guy, and he handed her an audition notice for Cloud Song with the date set for tomorrow morning.

“Fast moves…” Lin Xiaoyu thought sarcastically. She turned on the TV to distract herself, and the entertainment news was broadcasting that Zhou Ziyu had canceled next week’s concert due to “overwork.” In the footage, he was smiling warmly, a stark contrast to the person she saw in the hotel today.

Before bed, Lin Xiaoyu, on a strange impulse, searched “Zhou Ziyu Xu Shichang.” Apart from some photos of charity events and blurry paparazzi shots, there was nothing unusual. She zoomed in on one photo and noticed that whenever Zhou Ziyu was near Xu Shichang, he always slightly lowered his head, shoulders hunched—completely different from his confident and flamboyant stage persona.

The next day, the audition went surprisingly smoothly. The director didn’t even let her read the script; he just asked a few inconsequential questions and told her to “wait for the notification.” Lin Xiaoyu knew this was just part of the deal.

As she exited the film base, she tried to contact Xu Ya, but the phone was already turned off. A bad premonition rose in her chest. She hailed a taxi and went straight to another address Xu Ya had given her—a private clinic on the outskirts of the city.

The clinic receptionist told her that Xu Ya had indeed scheduled an abortion for today but never showed up. Lin Xiaoyu’s heart sank. On her way back, she bought a new phone, and just as she turned it on, she received dozens of texts from unknown numbers:

“Don’t interfere.”

“Delete the photos.”

“Unless you want to end up like your mom in a car accident.”

The last message included a photo of her mother taken this morning at the entrance of her neighborhood. Lin Xiaoyu’s hands shook so much she almost dropped the phone. At that moment, a new message came in:

“8 PM, the old place. Bring everything. — Xu Ya.”

Something felt off. Xu Ya knew her phone had been smashed by Zhou Ziyu, so how could she have a new number? Lin Xiaoyu immediately checked the envelope behind the refrigerator—it was still there, but it had clearly been tampered with. She opened it and saw that several key photos were missing.

As night fell, Lin Xiaoyu made a bold decision. She uploaded the contents of the USB drive to the cloud, set a timed email, and then took the empty envelope to the designated location. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she smelled a pungent smoke—something like burning paper, not cigarettes.

The door to the room Xu Ya had designated was ajar. Lin Xiaoyu pushed it open, only to find the room in disarray, documents scattered everywhere, and a smoking laptop wreckage. On the wall, the words “Shut up” were painted in red.

She turned to run but crashed into a solid chest. Looking up, she met Zhou Ziyu’s bloodshot eyes. He held the envelope that should have been behind the refrigerator.

“You really shouldn’t have gotten involved,” his voice was tired and desperate. “Now, even I can’t save you.”

At that moment, the sound of police sirens came from downstairs. Zhou Ziyu’s face changed drastically. He shoved a car key into Lin Xiaoyu’s hand. “Second basement level, silver Mercedes. There’s something Xu Ya left for you in the trunk. Don’t look back. Don’t trust anyone, not even me.”

Before Lin Xiaoyu could react, Zhou Ziyu had pushed open the fire escape door and disappeared. Trembling, she pressed the elevator button, her mind filled with one thought: How deep does this go?

The underground garage was empty. In the trunk of the silver Mercedes, there was only a brown paper bag, an old phone, and a one-way flight ticket to Sanya. The passenger’s name was “Lin Ya”—Xu Ya’s former stage name.

Inside the paper bag was a medical record. The patient’s name was Zhou Ziyu, and the diagnosis was “PTSD” and “drug dependency.” A photo stuck in the medical record made Lin Xiaoyu cover her mouth—young Zhou Ziyu was curled up in a corner, with Xu Shichang standing beside him, smiling. On the back of the photo, there was a small note: “Their next target is the female lead of Cloud Song.”

Suddenly, Lin Xiaoyu’s phone buzzed with a news push: “Starshine Media’s chairman, Xu Shichang, will hold a new film press conference tonight at the Junyue Hotel.”

And Cloud Song was the key project of Starshine Media.