Fang Jiang was usually composed and steady, rarely displaying the playful demeanor of a young girl as she did now. Meng Shizhen felt her heart soften at the sight, and the questions she had intended to ask dissolved into a sigh.

Earlier, when Fang Jiang left the office with a reluctant expression, it reminded Meng Shizhen of an old memory. It was several years ago, not long after Fang Jiang had debuted, while filming outdoor scenes for a period drama. A rural dog from a farmhouse caught her eye. Every day, she would feed the dog meat bones from her lunchbox, and in just those few days of filming, the dog had noticeably gained weight.

The dog was utterly ordinary: a mixed breed, with an unremarkable face, short legs, and no tail—it had been bitten off by another dog in a fight during its youth. To Meng Shizhen, it looked a bit strange—not ugly, but oddly peculiar in an indescribable way.

Whenever Meng Shizhen teased the dog in its presence, it would always lift its head and glance at her, as if understanding her words. Heaven knows, she was speaking Shanghainese. Fang Jiang once joked that the dog was fluent in eight languages, even the language of Zenithians, without needing a translator. Who knew, it might even be an extraterrestrial visitor.

Fang Jiang first noticed the dog during a chaotic scene where a pack of dogs were chasing and roughhousing, with one mounting another as if attempting a threesome. The crew laughed lewdly and cheered loudly. This dog passed by, glanced at them, and walked away without a hint of desire or attachment, as if entirely uninterested.

At first, Fang Jiang tried to feed it sausages, but it neither ate nor left. It just stood there on its short legs, quietly watching her, before approaching to sniff her scent. Gradually, after repeated interactions, they became familiar.

After the outdoor filming wrapped up, Fang Jiang bid the dog a tearful farewell, nearly taking it home to keep.

Why didn't she take it home? It wasn't that the farmhouse refused, but Fang Jiang felt the dog would lead an unstable life with her. At the time, her career was skyrocketing, requiring her to rush between daily engagements. She didn't have the small villa she lives in now, nor a live-in housekeeper to help care for the dog. Moreover, Fang Jiang believed that caring for a dog should be done personally—constantly leaving it to others wouldn't make it truly her dog, and there would be no point in keeping it.

Meng Shizhen thought that if Fang Jiang ever had children, she would handle everything herself—feeding, bathing, and putting them to sleep—without relying on her parents or in-laws. This meant she would tie herself down completely, along with her career.

Balancing career and family was ultimately a high-difficulty mode, especially for actresses in the entertainment industry. Having children meant stepping away mid-career, adding hardship to an already challenging profession. Whether others would still include you afterward depended on fate.

Fortunately, Fang Jiang had never planned to have children.

Meng Shizhen didn't either. She cherished only two things: fresh, youthful bodies and the numbers in her bank account, both of which she took pride in. The former gave her physical pleasure, while the latter brought her mental peace. Only those who had repeatedly considered resigning, only to reconsider after checking their bank balances, could understand the subtlety of this.

As for marriage—

If she didn't want children, didn't need to share assets with anyone, and didn't depend on someone else's income, what use was marriage to her?

Fang Jiang Studio periodically recruited newcomers without formal training to meet development needs. In this era, celebrities were like digital products—constantly updated and replaced. Today's fresh face could become yesterday's news in just a few days.

The newcomers had been waiting in the conference room for quite some time. Most young people nowadays were restless and impatient. Unable to use their phones while waiting, they gradually showed signs of restlessness, and the bolder ones quietly began chatting with others.

When the conference room door opened, the previously murmuring space instantly fell silent. Song Yuan, who had been observing from a corner, emerged and reported to Meng Shizhen who had been whispering during her absence, who appeared particularly impatient, and who complained about Fang Jiang putting on airs.

The next moment, those individuals were asked to leave.

Meng Shizhen scanned the room, taking in every youthful and attractive face now as quiet as chickens. Their expressions—some shocked, some bewildered, some resentful—were all captured in her gaze without missing a single detail.

Having participated in newcomer selections for two years, Fang Jiang naturally understood Meng Shizhen's tactics. Though she had lost track of time, Meng Shizhen hadn't instructed Song Yuan to remind her.

Deliberately making these newcomers wait in the room served to test their patience. The entertainment industry differed from other fields—for newcomers, patience was paramount. Impatience meant an inability to endure waiting. An artist who couldn't wait would find countless shortcuts, easily leading them astray. In show business, the days spent waiting before genuine fame could far outnumber working days.

Meng Shizhen's slight smile carried authority without anger.

The entertainment industry never lacked handsome men and beautiful women, especially with technological assistance allowing anyone to craft an attractive appearance. And youth, in a country of over a billion people, held little inherent value.

"If anyone is dissatisfied with the earlier wait or my decision, please leave now. Our studio is too small to accommodate such esteemed individuals."

The young men and women lowered their heads.

Fang Jiang knew what they were thinking: endure temporary humiliation for an opportunity, awaiting the day they could finally hold their heads high. While many had such aspirations, few ultimately achieved them. More often, people gradually forgot themselves while chasing dreams.

She suddenly thought of the person waiting in her office. What were her dreams? Where had she come from, choosing such an unconventional path, and where would it ultimately lead?

Fang Jiang was deeply curious.

The proceedings went smoothly but took longer than expected. At 2:45 PM, there was still no sign of wrapping up. Fang Jiang messaged Zhou Zhi via WeChat, asking her to wait a bit longer. Receiving no reply after two minutes, worried she might have left, she sent Song Yuan to check her office.

Song Yuan teased her: "Keeping a beauty locked away in a golden cage?"

Beauty? Fang Jiang thought. A delicate little nun.

Soon after, she received a photo from Song Yuan—the bald-headed figure curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, covered with her shearling coat like a docile lamb.

Fang Jiang had never realized her office was such a comfortable place to nap. When the meeting adjourned at 3:30 PM, Zhou Zhi remained deep in dreamland.

Stopping Song Yuan from waking her, Fang Jiang whispered, "I'm not leaving yet. I'll review the script for a while. You can head home first."

Song Yuan stared in disbelief. Teacher Fang is going to wait for 'Da-da' to wake up?

Oblivious to her expression, Fang Jiang picked up the script from the desk and sat across from Zhou Zhi. Usually sharp-tongued and quick-witted, Zhou Zhi looked utterly peaceful in her sleep, radiating an almost childlike innocence. Fang Jiang felt an urge to pat her head again. Though they were the same age, Zhou Zhi always seemed younger, both in stature and demeanor.

The entertainment industry is truly a melting pot, just by entering and exiting, one ages considerably.

But it's still better than getting married.

In her social media feed, former classmates often post photos—husbands, wives, children—showing their yearly changes. Watching female classmates grow thinner, male classmates grow fatter, balder, and greasier, and children growing up, Fang Jiang finally feels the passage of time. Yet she dares not change herself. Aside from avoiding cosmetic surgery, she maintained a strict regimen of health and fitness.

That damned bald woman was right about one thing: "Relying on beauty to please others means love fades as beauty fades." This is one reason Fang Jiang is determined to reinvent herself.

This nap was so comfortable Zhou Zhi didn't want to wake up. The thought of waking to write the stuck section of her novel, which few would read anyway, made her wish she could sleep through eternity. Her mind was foggy, but her heart sank first—no wonder the ancients said, "If only I could sleep forever."

Groping around her body, she felt warm, soft fur. "Gang Kai, why have you gotten lighter?" she mumbled.

She patted again.

"Why is the fur so short?" The shock was tremendous.

Zhou Zhi's eyes snapped open to see a graceful woman standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, her silhouette gilded by the sunset's golden glow. Radiant yet gentle, the light didn't hurt her eyes at all.

A melodious laugh rang out.

Zhou Zhi jolted awake, realizing where she was and who stood before her. Her face flushed crimson.

The sun had set—what time was it?

"Finally awake?" the superstar said leisurely.

Zhou Zhi threw off the coat draped over her and sprang up. "Sorry, sorry! Have you been waiting for me all this time?"

"What do you think?" Fang Jiang slowly approached her, the sunlight flooding into the room with her movement, making Zhou Zhi squint.

The superstar flicked her forehead. "Your sleep schedule is a mess. Da-da, you should sleep early. At your age, don't always stay up late."

Zhou Zhi clutched her head, staring dumbly at Fang Jiang, her already rosy cheeks turning redder.

Putting on her own coat, Fang Jiang saw Zhou Zhi still standing there dazed and waved at her. "Let's go home for Salted Pork and Bamboo Shoot Soup. I asked Aunt Sun—it's made with South Wind Dried Pork."

"Huh?" Zhou Zhi couldn't believe her ears. Did she hear correctly? Was Fang Jiang taking her home for soup?

"What 'huh'? Let's go." Fang Jiang put on her face mask.

Suddenly, Zhou Zhi gasped.

"What? Seen a ghost?"

The masked superstar in her sheep's wool coat was more terrifying than any ghost. The outfit reminded Zhou Zhi of that night at the convenience store on Lunar New Year's Day. If you added the Audi...

Heavens, it couldn't be that coincidental.

"You... you..." Zhou Zhi swallowed hard.

"I'm human." Impatient with her dithering, Fang Jiang came over to pull her along. "Stop dawdling."

"Where did you go after the New Year's Gala on Lunar New Year's Day this year?"

Why ask about her schedule all of a sudden? Fang Jiang found it amusing. "How would I remember something from so long ago?"

Zhou Zhi pressed, "Did you... did you go to a convenience store?"

How could she not remember? Fang Jiang's smile faded. She remembered.

That night, she had mustered all her courage and abandoned all reason, determined to inject some excitement into her barren life. She entered that FamilyMart, carefully selected a few easy-to-conceal items, and hid them under her clothes—all to play the thief.

She was one step away from success.

Just one step away.

As it turned out, fate played a cruel joke on her, sending a lunatic into that shop. The lunatic bleated at her: "Baa."

Her carefully hidden snacks scattered all over the floor, and the lunatic even told her that she too liked the wasabi-flavored Pub Crisps.

Wasabi-flavored Pub Crisps, mind you.

In the end, her plan failed miserably. She fled in defeat, wishing she could squeeze a whole tube of wasabi into that person's mouth.

As the saying goes, every grievance has its perpetrator, and every debt its debtor—destiny works in mysterious ways.

Fang Jiang hooked an arm around Zhou Zhi's neck, letting both of them tumble onto the sofa. With a half-clenched fist, she rubbed Zhou Zhi's shaved head roughly. "It was you, you lunatic. It was actually you!"

Zhou Zhi, trapped tightly in her grasp, buried her head against Fang Jiang's chest, nuzzling into the soft sheep's wool. "Ah, no, it wasn't me, it wasn't."

"Still trying to deny it! If it wasn't you, then bleat for me."

"I won't bleat, I won't. You're the sheep—sheep are the ones that bleat."

Just as Song Yuan had said, that person had bleated simply to mock her, to make her seem like a sheep. "I'm a sheep? I'm clearly a tiger. You're the sheep, you bald sheep!"

"Yes, yes, you're a tiger—a tigress. Help! Wuwuwu..."

How dare she call her a tigress! Fang Jiang was furious, wishing she had a third hand to spank that crazy girl.

In that moment of distraction, Zhou Zhi seized the chance, wrapping her arms around Fang Jiang's waist and pinning her down on the sofa. In an instant, their positions reversed—legs tangled with legs, chest pressed against chest, and the bald head firmly holding down her hands.

"Let me go."

"I won't."

"You stupid baldhead, let me go!"

"Call me Wu Song. Only if you call me Wu Song will I let you go."

"...Bullsh.it! Wu Dalang!"

"Pan Jinlian!"

"Let me go so I can feed you arsenic!"

(Wu Song (武松) is a famous figure from Chinese literature, specifically from the classic novel Water Margin (水浒传), also known as Outlaws of the Marsh. He is depicted as a legendary hero known for his strength and martial arts skills. One of his most famous stories involves him defeating a man-eating tiger with his bare hands.

Wu Dalang (武大郎) is another character from the Chinese classic novel Water Margin (水浒传). He is known as the older brother of Wu Song and is depicted as a somewhat bumbling and physically unattractive man, often characterized by his short stature.

Pan Jinlian (潘金莲) is a key character in Water Margin (水浒传). She is known for her beauty and is infamous for her role in the tragic fate of her husband, Wu Dalang. Pan Jinlian engages in an affair with the wealthy man, Ximen Qing, ultimately leading to Wu Dalang's murder.)

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