Chapter 316: Where is she
Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck for balance, and before she could even struggle, his long strides carried her toward the bed in the corner of the room.
Her mind whirled, flashes of memory colliding—before going on stage today, she had teased him, had sparked a fire inside his chest, only to abandon him at the very edge of breaking. At the time, she had thought she was clever.
But now...
Now the look in his eyes told her that Fu Jingrong was not a man to be toyed with lightly.
As her back touched the soft bedding, her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird. His shadow loomed above her, the heat of his body surrounding her from all directions.
Hua Jing bit her lip, her ears burning red as he leaned closer, his breath fanning against her skin.
Her voice, trembling yet stubborn, escaped in a whisper:
"Utterly shameless..."
But the sultry tone of her words betrayed her, and Fu Jingrong’s smile only grew darker, filled with satisfaction.
...
The heavy door of the VIP room clicked softly behind Lin Qian as she stepped into the quiet hallway. The air outside felt strangely cooler, as though it wished to soothe the racing heartbeat she had left behind in that room.
Her steps echoed faintly as she descended the staircase leading away from the private lounge, her mind still swirling with disbelief. The image of Hua Jing casually claiming Fu Jingrong as her husband replayed itself again and again in her head, leaving her lips parting in incredulous silence.
But just as she was about to gather her thoughts, hurried footsteps shattered the calm.
Tap, tap, tap—
Someone was rushing—almost stumbling—down the hallway. Lin Qian paused and looked up.
A figure came into view.
A woman, slightly disheveled, her hair loose as though she had been running for hours, her breathing shallow and desperate. Her clothes, though elegant in cut, were wrinkled from haste. Tears streaked her cheeks, and her eyes were red.
Lin Qian blinked. She knew this face.
"Zhang Ruo...?" she whispered, recognition dawning.
The name clicked in her mind like a lock falling open. Zhang Ruo—the famed publicist of Blue Entertainment. More importantly, the publicist who was handling Hua Ling.
And as if fate itself had guided her here, Zhang Ruo suddenly spotted Lin Qian standing there. Her gaze sharpened, then softened into sheer desperation. With trembling steps, she all but ran toward Lin Qian, like a drowning woman who had just seen a floating plank.
"Where is she? Where is she?!" Zhang Ruo’s voice broke, breathless and frantic, her hands almost clutching at Lin Qian’s arms.
Lin Qian was taken aback. The calm, calculating Zhang Ruo she had seen in the industry was gone. In her place stood a woman on the verge of collapse—eyes wild, chest heaving, tears streaming uncontrollably.
"You—calm down, calm down," Lin Qian said quickly, her naturally gentle voice washing over Zhang Ruo like cool water.
The effect was immediate. Zhang Ruo’s trembling lessened. Her sobs quieted, though her breath still came ragged. Slowly, she steadied herself under Lin Qian’s gaze.
Her lips trembled before she finally whispered, her voice hoarse, "Is it... real?"
Lin Qian instantly understood what she meant. Ever since Hua Jing’s dazzling appearance on stage earlier, there had been disbelief—doubts whether she was truly back, or if it had been some illusion, some cruel mirage.
Lin Qian met her eyes and nodded firmly. "It’s real."
Relief washed over Zhang Ruo’s face so strongly that her knees gave way, and she slumped against the wall with a soft thud.
Tears fell anew, but these were different—tears of release, of long-held fear finally cracking open. For so long, Zhang Ruo had carried the weight of Hua Jing’s accident, the whispered rumors, the uncertainty of her condition. She had gone to the hospital faithfully, only to be barred one day when the Hua family coldly announced: "No more outside visitors."
From then on, Hua Jing had vanished from her life. No news. No updates. Nothing but silence.
Until today.
Until she saw her—alive, radiant, standing on stage like a phoenix reborn.
Zhang Ruo’s voice cracked again as she whispered, almost to herself, "It’s really her... it’s really her..."
Lin Qian crouched down beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "You might want to visit her a little later," she said softly, carefully. "Right now, she’s... preoccupied with something."
At that, Zhang Ruo’s head snapped up. Her brows knitted, her red-rimmed eyes flashing with urgency. "Preoccupied? With what?"
Lin Qian’s lips pressed together. She tactfully looked away. She knew exactly what was going on inside that room, behind the closed door she had just left. The warmth, the tension, the shameless man and the flustered woman—ah, no, this was not something Zhang Ruo needed to know.
So she simply smiled lightly and said, "Let’s go down for now. Once she’s done, she’ll definitely come to find you."
Zhang Ruo stared at her for a long moment, as though weighing whether to press further. Finally, with her body still trembling from the storm of emotions, she gave a small, almost reluctant nod.
Together, the two women began to descend the staircase, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor—one still trembling with disbelief, the other silently keeping the secret of what was truly happening behind that closed door.
The soft murmur of voices from the lounge ahead could already be heard, the faint sound of laughter and glasses clinking faintly spilling out into the corridor. Lin Qian kept her pace steady, one hand still lightly supporting Zhang Ruo, who was still gathering her breath and emotions.
The Blue Awards were nothing if not extravagant. Every detail had been arranged to perfection: a private lounge for artists, stocked with refreshments, soft chairs, and discreet staff ready to serve. Tonight, it was meant to be a place of comfort, a buffer between the blinding lights of the stage and the heavy eyes of the audience.
But before they could step inside, Zhang Ruo’s feet suddenly slowed.
She shivered. A prickling sensation ran down her spine—as if someone’s eyes were fixed on her with sharp, unrelenting focus.
Almost instinctively, she turned her head.
And froze.
Not far behind them, standing at the end of the hallway like a shadow, was none other than Hua Ling.
