Zhou Zhi quickly sized up the two seated women. Judging by their attire—uniformly dressed in black, white, and gray, simple and understated—the only splash of color came from their lipstick. The vibrant red lips made their complexions glow.

One was the legendary True Queen, her smiling eyes brimming with scrutiny. Every gesture exuded a crisp, confident charm, her makeup rivaling that of a major celebrity. Clearly self-assured, she sat beside the star without being overshadowed in the slightest.

The other was Fang Jiang, who appeared more natural than she did in television dramas—her face smaller, her beauty more striking. Her bright eyes sparkled as she looked at Zhou Zhi, radiating the intellect and refinement often mentioned by journalists.

Neither seemed socially awkward!

The True Queen and Fang Jiang sat together with empty seats nearby. Surely it wouldn't be three against one? It felt like a tribunal.

Confess or not? No way.

Sell or not? I'd sell myself, but not the copyright.

Zhou Zhi muttered inwardly as she removed her coat and mask. Unsure of what to say, she settled on a greeting.

"H-hello there."

She'd rather not speak—the moment she did, the awkwardness thickened, making her feel utterly foolish.

Before Fang Jiang or Meng Shizhen could respond, Song Yuan exclaimed, "Wow, so this is what you're like, Shang Que! You look so young. How old are you? You must be younger than me." Her enthusiasm suggested she might rush over for a hug any second.

Zhou Zhi instinctively stepped back, forcing a smile and adjusting her hat, feeling awkward. "No, no, I'm definitely older than you." Glancing at Fang Jiang, who sat in the corner supporting her chin while watching her, Zhou Zhi recalled the information she'd seen online. "I'm... I'm the same age as Miss Fang."

"Really? I'd never have guessed! You look much younger than Teacher Fang."

What woman enjoys hearing that someone appears younger than her? Even if it's true. Fang Jiang was displeased and considered docking Song Yuan's pay later.

Unable to tolerate her foolish assistant, Meng Shizhen gestured to Zhou Zhi. "Miss Zhou, please have a seat. I'm Fang Jiang's agent, my surname is Meng."

Zhou Zhi timidly took a seat opposite Fang Jiang, her gaze lifting only to meet Fang Jiang's chin. And what a chin it was—distinctly attractive, unlike the trendy pointed chins, perfectly complementing her elegant nose and expressive eyes. It was flawless. Rumor had it celebrities' skin tended to coarsen from heavy makeup, but Fang Jiang's complexion was delicate and white, her face and hands nearly the same shade—clearly natural beauty, not the work of foundation. No wonder she'd been scouted for television roles, with looks like that, she could play an empress.

Before leaving home, Zhou Zhi had vented to Gang Kai: both thirty-four, yet Fang Jiang embodied a youthful, intellectual woman whose short hair only enhanced her feminine charm, while Zhou Zhi, even with long hair, resembled a freshly graduated, clueless college student—prime target for traffickers. How unfair life was!

Little did she know Fang Jiang was studying her too. Both thirty-four, yet this woman carried the girlish shyness of a teenager, making Fang Jiang feel years older. Why?!

Song Yuan sat beside Zhou Zhi, finally realizing how her earlier comment had struck a nerve. She held her breath, afraid Fang Jiang would hold a grudge and settle the score later.

Facing a superstar, especially a beautiful one, even if you're not a fan, there's still pressure. Zhou Zhi adjusted her hat and made up her mind: If the other person doesn't speak, she won't either. If the enemy doesn't move, she won't move. If the enemy moves, She'll counter. After all, she was invited here to eat, so she'd just focus on eating.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Meng Shizhen called the waiter and ordered a variety of foods—raw, cooked, cold, and hot—all served in four separate small plates for each person.

Zhou Zhi was quite pleased with the divided serving style for their first meal together. While it was possible to eat from the same bowl with someone you've just met, it always felt awkward. With each dish served, she paid attention to how much Fang Jiang ate. She had heard that celebrities often diet to maintain their face and figure on camera. But Fang Jiang ate without hesitation, unconcerned about calories or whether she should eat, directly putting food into her mouth and enjoying it heartily.

Zhou Zhi found it a little amusing.

Fang Jiang was sensitive to cameras and to people's gazes. Being repeatedly stared at by the Little Obscure Author, who was the same age but looked younger, she had long tossed her intention to charm her into submission to Java Country. All she could picture in her mind was grabbing the Little Obscure Author's head and scratching it while yelling, "What are you looking at? What are you looking at? Keep staring and I'll dig your eyeballs out."

If the Little Obscure Author honestly admitted it was because she was too beautiful, then... she'd let it slide.

Fang Jiang always had a soft spot for people with good taste.

"What are you looking at?" Fang Jiang put down her chopsticks, wiped her mouth, and stared fixedly at the person in front of her.

Zhou Zhi looked up and met a pair of sparkling eyes, the kind of radiance unique to big stars.

People often say that someone's eyes are so deep they seem to hold a whole world. In Fang Jiang's eyes, there lay a vast, mysterious realm. To catch a glimpse of it, one had to follow and explore—was it an underwater world, the universe and all its wonders, birds singing and flowers blooming, a dazzling metropolis, or perhaps a barren desert, or even a cool-looking poster?

Zhou Zhi felt dizzy and dazzled.

Dazzled by the stunning beauty, dizzy from Fang Jiang's question—"What are you looking at?" On the streets, that would be like "What are you staring at? What are you gawking at?" leading to a fight at the slightest disagreement. Could she really say outright: "Watching you eat is much more interesting and exciting than watching your TV shows"? She was afraid her legs would be broken before she even left the restaurant. After all, wasn't it said that people in the entertainment industry had connections in both lawful and unlawful circles?

Zhou Zhi moved her lips and put on an ingratiating smile. When she smiled, her brows curved, and her eyes seemed to speak: "Please, spare me."

"Say whatever comes to mind," Fang Jiang encouraged her.

That little look was so familiar. Who was it? Who was it?

"Your... your colored contacts are really nice. Where did you buy them?"

"Pfft."

"Cough, cough, cough, cough..."

Meng Shizhen and Song Yuan burst out laughing at the same time, especially Song Yuan, who almost spat out the sashimi in her mouth.

I never knew my favorite author was this adorable.

Fang Jiang was both angry and amused. "Taobao, 9.9 yuan with free shipping."

Blind your dog eyes! She had genuine, authentic pupils. And here she thought the Little Obscure Author had pretty eyes. What good were pretty eyes if they were big but lifeless? Blind! Blind!

Fortunately, Zhou Zhi had enough intelligence to sense the big star's anger. Startled, she carefully studied Fang Jiang's eyes and said, "It's just that I lack experience. I've never seen such captivating eyes before. They're like... like a kaleidoscope."

If it were anyone else, Fang Jiang would have had a sharp retort: "How creepy."

However, this peer looked at her with the innocent eyes of an animal and nodded with absolute certainty, not a hint of teasing in her expression. Moreover, Fang Jiang genuinely believed her own eyes were quite beautiful—indeed, quite captivating. As for the kaleidoscope, its myriad colors evoked childhood memories.

"Alright. Your eyes are lovely too." The pleased superstar did not hold back her praise.

The interlude did not disrupt the atmosphere in the private room. By the time everyone had eaten and drunk their fill and desserts were about to be served, Meng Shizhen got to the main point: "Culture and entertainment are inseparable. You write, and we work in entertainment—we face the same environment. Your path is narrowing, and so is ours, filled with obstacles at every turn. You know the current situation domestically. Aside from our studio, few are willing to produce Girls' Love works. It's not that no one has tried—there were similar themes a few years ago, but they were small-scale and of questionable quality. If we can collaborate and achieve something notable, it would be a great opportunity for you, but for us, it's hard to say. To be honest, personally, I'd rather not venture into this blue ocean (unexplored market.)"

She paused for a moment, noticing that the writer was listening attentively with an expression of agreement. Mentally, she acknowledged that Song Yuan wasn't entirely unreliable—at least the person she recommended knew their place and wasn't arrogant or foolish.

"The idea to produce a Girls' Love drama came from Fang Jiang."

Zhou Zhi raised an eyebrow and glanced at Fang Jiang, who was quietly observing like a wallflower, curious about her reasons for wanting to make a Girls' Love series.

There are generally four reasons for wanting to film a Niche Drama:

First, to make money. Currently, Boys' Love is trending, with male-male romances captivating the nation. A single Boys' Love series can skyrocket an actor's fame, generating countless spin-off opportunities. But Girls' Love? Whether in domestic film and television or even in Europe and America, the quantity, quality, and funding available are nowhere near comparable to Boys' Love.

Second, having a good script or being drawn to a compelling novel or theme. Take Carol, for example, based on the novel The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith. This author is better known for The Talented Mr. Ripley, which was adapted into a film in 1999 with a star-studded cast: Matt Damon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, and Cate Blanchett. As early as 1960, a French master had already adapted the novel into Purple Noon, starring Alain Delon.

And what was Shang Que in comparison? No reputation, no capital, no buzz, no influence. To suggest that Fang Jiang had read her novels? She wouldn't believe it in a hundred years. On the other hand, the superstar's assistant, Song Yuan, was undoubtedly a reader. But it was unlikely the superstar would spend hundreds of thousands to acquire the rights to her novels just for her assistant.

It wasn't that Zhou Zhi didn't believe someone would spend a fortune for a beauty's sake—just that she didn't believe Song Yuan was that beauty.

Third, Fang Jiang herself might be gay and want to contribute to the lesbian community or make some form of public declaration. Zhou Zhi's Gaydar wasn't sharp, nor did she think there was a clear distinction in demeanor between straight and gay people. She simply felt that if this were Fang Jiang's reason, it would be commendable for its courage, but clearly, her agent Meng Shizhen would never allow such a thing to happen. Even Ellen Page's coming out was a nerve-wracking, mustering all her courage at once. Fang Jiang? Here? Now? That would be digging her own grave.

Four. The director had something she wanted to express, like when Ann Hui made All About Love. You should know that initially she wanted to tell the story of seven women in a patriarchal world. The screenwriter pitched her a lesbian story, which moved her, and then she went to find Wong Jing. Wong Jing didn't think much of the subject matter. And Fang Jiang is a star—could it be that she also wants to become a director?

As if unwilling to let Zhou Zhi speculate freely, Meng Shizhen said, "I know it's because of Xiao Yuan. Xiao Yuan is your reader. At that time, Fang Jiang happened to want to create something of her own, something interesting, so she sought you out. We didn't expect you to refuse outright."

After adjusting her sitting posture, Meng Shizhen leaned back in her chair, watching Zhou Zhi, who seemed lost in thought and unmoved, as she spooned coffee jelly into her mouth. "To be honest, at first we thought you were trying to drive up the price, that you felt the offer was too low."

Just as Zhou Zhi was about to explain, Meng Shizhen gestured toward Song Yuan with her chin. "Xiao Yuan repeatedly insisted that you weren't that kind of person. That's why she reached out to you a second time, but you still refused. I've always believed that every author wants to see their work adapted for the screen, to reach a wider audience. Isn't that true? Or is it that you want something else?"

Zhou Zhi instinctively glanced at Fang Jiang.

Fang Jiang was taken aback. Was this about her? A flash of understanding ignited a fire of anger and an indescribable shame in her chest. The intensity of her rage was enough to suck all the air from the room, burning away every trace of warmth.

Under Fang Jiang's icy, furious gaze, Zhou Zhi's eyes hastily retreated.

Meng Shizhen remained confused, but then Fang Jiang let out a cold laugh. "Sister Shizhen, how can you not understand? The reason the great writer refused is because of me."

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