Chapter 297: Mirror, mirror on the wall
Inside a sleek black car parked just meters away from the venue, Hua Ling sat with her legs crossed, her posture elegant yet restless.
Her makeup artist leaned in, carefully brushing one last touch of highlighter across her cheekbones. The glow on her skin was already dazzling, her lips painted in a bold shade that demanded attention. The dress she wore shimmered under the car’s lights, every fold and jewel catching the eye.
Hua Ling tilted her chin slightly and turned to her assistant seated beside her. "Did you get the information I asked for?" Her voice was calm, but the sharp edge beneath it made the assistant straighten immediately.
The assistant nodded quickly, tapping on her tablet before turning the screen toward her. "Yes, Miss Hua Ling."
On the glowing interface was a report on Lin Qian. Ever since Hua Ling had stolen Lin Qian’s designer, the other woman had been scrambling. No one of reputation would take Lin Qian’s requests now, and she had been turned away repeatedly.
Hua Ling’s lips curled with satisfaction as she scanned the details. Lin Qian had dared to cross her, and this was nothing but payback. Her downfall was something Hua Ling savored like fine wine.
Her gaze slid toward the man seated opposite her, the very designer she had snatched away. A tall, mixed-race man with painted nails, an exaggerated goatee, and a wide-brimmed hat tilted stylishly on his head. He looked every inch the eccentric genius.
In broken Chinese, his smile stretching wide, he declared, "Miss Hua Ling will be the most beautiful person there. No need to worry about anyone else. You will shine."
Hua Ling chuckled softly, her eyes drifting to her reflection in the tinted car window. She already knew it was true. This designer was a giant in the fashion circle. No one could possibly outshine what he had crafted for her tonight.
For a fleeting moment, she imagined herself as the queen in a fairytale. "Mirror, mirror on the wall," she thought wryly, "who is the fairest of them all?" And the answer, in her mind, was obvious: it was her.
Everyone around her would echo that same sentiment. She demanded it. She thrived on it.
This night was important—it was her first time stepping into the Blue Awards not as a mere guest, but as the central figure of the spectacle. She remembered the past years, how every whisper, every headline, every cheer had been for Hua Jing.
Back then, everyone bowed to her sister, licking her boots, as if Hua Jing was the only star worth adoring. The endless praise had filled Hua Ling with bitterness she could barely contain.
But not anymore.
Now, all eyes would be on her. The envy, the admiration, the obsession—it all belonged to her. Her lips curled into a sinister smile, darker, sharper than the polished one she wore in public.
Inwardly, she mocked, "Hua Jing... oh, Hua Jing. Look at me now. I’ve stolen everything from you. Even your fans—those who adored you back then—now chant my name instead. Do you see it? Do you see who the true winner is, dear sister?"
Her smile deepened, almost eerie in its satisfaction. The people seated near her inside the car shifted uncomfortably.
They had seen her lose her temper before, seen how quickly she could lash out without warning. None of them dared to speak or interrupt her quiet glee. That sinister curve of her lips was enough to make them lower their heads, pretending not to notice.
Outside, the crowd’s screams grew louder. More artists were arriving, their names announced with cheers and flashes of cameras. The night was reaching its peak.
Suddenly, a voice crackled through the car’s intercom system. "Miss Hua Ling, it’s your turn to enter."
At once, Hua Ling’s eerie smile disappeared. She replaced it with the flawless one she always showed the world—the polished, charming smile of Blue Entertainment’s shining star.
She adjusted the folds of her glittering dress, smoothed her hair with one final touch, and lifted her chin.
The driver rolled the car forward toward the entrance. The flashing lights outside grew blinding, the screams of fans deafening.
Then, with a soft click, the door finally opened.
As soon as Hua Ling stepped out of the car, the entire atmosphere shifted. The already deafening crowd roared even louder, their voices rising in a frenzy that echoed through the wide expanse of the venue.
The barricades strained under the pressure of fans pushing forward, desperate to catch even the faintest glimpse of her. Security moved swiftly to hold them back, but nothing could dim the feverish energy that pulsed through the air.
Phones shot up instantly, their flashes blinding, turning the red carpet into a sea of strobing lights. Dozens of cameras clicked nonstop, reporters surged toward her, shouting her name, each one desperate for a perfect shot.
Hua Ling raised her chin elegantly, the corners of her lips curling into a flawless smile. She moved with unshakable confidence, every step deliberate, every turn of her head calculated to captivate.
Gasps rippled across the crowd as she paused, striking a pose, the shimmering fabric of her gown cascading like liquid starlight under the lights. "She looks like a goddess!" someone screamed.
"Her dress is breathtaking!" another voice carried above the rest.
"Look at that figure—perfection!" came yet another shout, followed by a string of cheers.
"She’s truly the star of the night!" more voices chimed in, blending into a wall of praise.
Everywhere, phones trembled in eager hands, recording her every movement. Some fans were on the verge of tears, overcome with the chance to see her up close.
Walking confidently at her side was the man who had helped make this spectacle possible. The genius designer—Elliot Vance—towered with an aura almost as flamboyant as Hua Ling herself. His wide-brimmed hat tilted stylishly, the golden pins on his coat glittering under the lights.
The moment the crowd recognized him, another wave of hysteria crashed down.
"Isn’t that Elliot Vance?"
