Chapter 106: Chaos

Tang Shiya, a top-tier domestic female celebrity, was a triple-threat star in film, television, and music. This year, she swept both the Golden Bird Award and the Hundred Herbs Award for Best Actress, and also clinched the title of Best Female Singer at the CCAV-KTV Music Festival.

She was undeniably a bona fide superstar. Prime-time slots on major television networks were almost entirely occupied by her advertisements and projects, and her stunning, larger-than-life posters adorned shopping malls everywhere.

She was like the hit song “The Most Dazzling Ethnic Style,” sung in every street and alley. Whether you liked it or not, you could hum a few lines and recall every lyric clearly.

Even someone like Liu Jingye knew Tang Shiya and would get excited just seeing her.

Yet, Tang Shiya paid him no mind and walked straight into the room. Liu Jingye followed, recalling the earlier scene and couldn’t help but ask, “Miss Tang, I clearly saw you surrounded by a crowd earlier, called out repeatedly, and then you left—how come you’re here now?”

“That was my body double, similar in build and features,” Tang Shiya replied coolly. “I found an airport attendant behind and got this outfit from her. As for those people chasing me in the car just now, they were probably from my agency.”

“That doesn’t explain why they were recklessly speeding like their lives depended on it. It looked like they were hunting down a mortal enemy,” Liu Jingye smiled wryly.

Tang Shiya’s expression shifted. Though she usually maintained a calm demeanor, her face instantly darkened like still water—still beautiful but tinged with sorrow and melancholy, exquisitely pitiful, evoking a pang of heartache.

“No wonder she’s a superstar and Best Actress winner. Every smile, every expression moves people,” Liu Jingye thought to himself. “She masters nonverbal language to perfection—a single frown makes you share her worries, a radiant smile brightens your mood. This woman is extraordinary!”

Tang Shiya said nothing further. She produced her ID for registration as Liu Jingye requested, chose a room, then sat quietly in the courtyard, staring blankly at the blue sky and white clouds like a girl burdened by thoughts, missing someone dear.

She sat on the stone steps by the door, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on them, her long hair cascading down as she quietly daydreamed—like a statue of a goddess, pure and beautiful.

She remained like this for an hour, motionless as a meditating monk. Anyone could tell this great star goddess was weighed down by her troubles, silently carrying them alone.

“Ah, these days, the pressures on everyone are as heavy as mountains. Every industry is tough,” Liu Jingye mused, watching her through the window. “Especially the entertainment world—glamorous on the surface but chaotic underneath.”

He stopped watching her and turned to the television, which happened to be airing a Tang Shiya commercial. On a sunlit beach, she ran with passionate sweat shimmering, youthful and vibrant, her smile dazzling and inviting.

Yet here she was, sitting at the doorstep, vacant-eyed and lifeless, like an eternal sculpture—the sorrow emanating from her stirring a painful ache in onlookers. She was a stark contrast to the lively image on screen.

Liu Jingye switched channels to a local news program where the serious male anchor reported: “We have just received news from the development zone—a large-scale brawl broke out outside a Japanese-owned factory. Witnesses say the combatants appeared to be workers, possibly fighting over a project contract. Dozens were injured, including Japanese staff, with fifteen in critical condition and currently receiving emergency treatment. Police are investigating. Stay tuned for updates.”

“Oh, the Vietnamese have made a move, even attacking the doorstep—impressive!” Liu Jingye exclaimed, cracking open a beer to celebrate.

The news shifted to entertainment: “Superstar actress Tang Shiya arrived in our city today and was warmly welcomed by fans at the airport…”

The screen showed footage from the airport, featuring Tang Shiya’s body double stepping out amid the crowd. The fans’ enthusiasm was palpable even through the screen, underscoring her immense popularity.

At the start of the clip focusing on the fans, Liu Jingye noticed others nearby, including a young man in sunglasses flanked by four bodyguards in black suits. The young man seemed extremely camera-conscious, quickly turning his head away as the guards closed ranks around him.

“Who is this guy? So young yet surrounded by bodyguards, acting decisively—definitely not ordinary,” Liu Jingye muttered.

Suddenly, a clear female voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you like watching TV?” Tang Shiya stood beside him, glancing at the screen with a faint tone.

Liu Jingye shrugged. “I watch local news occasionally.”

“Don’t believe any TV programs—they’re all lies and deception,” she said coolly, then turned and walked upstairs. Liu Jingye watched her retreating figure—so lonely, as if walking step by step toward death, utterly devoid of vitality.

“Well, not all lies—at least the time announcements are accurate,” he commented, watching her disappear.

Tang Shiya offered no reply, her graceful silhouette gone.

Liu Jingye didn’t pry further. Everyone had their own life, their pressures and worries. Life was never smooth sailing; that only existed in fairy tales.

He didn’t want to meddle, especially in women’s affairs. Yuan Xiaoying and Chen Yuxin already had him overwhelmed.

“Since insiders say TV programs are fake, I’ll check the computer instead,” he muttered.

Just as he opened his chat app, a message from Chen Yuxin flashed on screen in bold red letters: “Zhao Xue’an has fallen!”

Startled, Liu Jingye immediately called her. The female anchor’s excited voice came through: “We’ve just received news—Zhao Xue’an has officially fallen, expelled from his post and party, and is under investigation. He’s completely finished.”

“So sudden?” Liu Jingye asked.

“I don’t know either. Rumor has it that a big shot arrived in the provincial capital. Zhao Xue’an was scrambling for a backer, but the arrival of this big shot instantly crushed all his efforts,” Chen Yuxin explained. Working for official media, she had the most reliable information. “This will be confirmed in tonight’s news. Finally, we can breathe easy.”

“So, will you return to the news team?” Liu Jingye asked.

“No word yet. For now, I’m still in entertainment, but that’s better—easier work and plenty of time for dating,” Chen Yuxin said candidly.

Liu Jingye felt a headache coming on. Though he liked women’s openness and warmth, sometimes it was too much.

Especially Chen Yuxin—unlike the naive Yuan Xiaoying, who was carefree and outspoken, Chen Yuxin was sharp and direct. Her apparent enthusiasm was always a way of sending messages: congratulations on your good fortune, you’ll have plenty of time for romance...

Yet she never mentioned who Liu Jingye’s good fortune or romances involved—but whoever she spoke to would be well advised to pay attention.

But Liu Jingye dared not make any promises. He replied vaguely, “Let’s have a meal when there’s time.”

“That sounds like you’re asking out an online date,” Chen Yuxin quipped with her usual sharp wit.

Luckily, she soon returned to work calls, sparing Liu Jingye from further pressure.

Before hanging up, she added, “Bro, please call your girlfriend sometimes—be a real man!”

“Heh, now I’ve got another girlfriend,” Liu Jingye chuckled as the line went dead.

“But with the Japanese hit by the Vietnamese and Zhao Xue’an’s fall, my efforts weren’t in vain,” he said, lighting a cigarette with a smile. “Still, Zhao Xue’an’s case was hanging in the balance. He must have had a backer, so why did this so-called big shot’s arrival bring him down so quickly? Who is this big shot, and why is there no news about them?”

Just then, the station broke in with fresh news. The anchor’s expression was stunned, as if surprised by the day’s many incidents.

“We have just received news of a large fire at a residence in one of the city’s urban villages. The blaze is severe, cause unknown. Neighbors say more than thirty men lived there, likely migrant workers. Casualties are unclear; firefighters are on the scene actively fighting the fire.”

The screen showed flames engulfing the house. Liu Jingye froze.

“Isn’t that where those Vietnamese were renting? What a coincidence—the fire must be retaliation from the Japanese, and it came so fast!”

“Fight, fight—one less troublemaker at a time!” Liu Jingye laughed. “If you want to cause chaos in our country, we’ll let you tear each other apart. No one comes back alive!”

A cold wind swept into the room as Liu Jingye closed the door. Dark clouds gathered overhead, threatening rain.

Turning back, he saw Tang Shiya standing by a second-floor window, gazing toward the distant mountains swallowed by darkening clouds. She was lost in thought again, her expression fragile and pained as if harboring endless unspoken sorrows.

The wind stirred her long hair, her exquisite face cold and ethereal, as if she might ascend to the heavens at any moment. She truly seemed not of this world.

Suddenly, her phone rang—a beautifully melodious ringtone. Yet the music played on and on, while she showed no intention of answering.

The ringing persisted, repeatedly cutting off and restarting. At last, Tang Shiya frowned, picked up the phone, and answered.

Though Liu Jingye hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, one sentence she spoke froze him in place.

“You want to die? Then go ahead and die. If you don’t, you’re forcing me to die instead!”