Chapter 317: Her composure shattered
Hua Ling’s face was extremely dark.
The dim hallway lights caught on the sharp angles of her features, but instead of softening them, they seemed to deepen the shadows under her eyes. She looked at Lin Qian and Zhang Ruo as though they had murdered her parents, her piercing gaze dripping with killing intent.
If sheer willpower could erase people from existence, Hua Ling would have burned the two women before her into ash. Every nerve in her body screamed for them to disappear.
But Lin Qian—oh, Lin Qian—she was not the type to shrink away.
Holding Zhang Ruo by the arm, she tilted her head slightly and flashed a mocking smile, her tone light but barbed.
> "Superstar Hua, it’s not polite to stare. If you want to say something, say it outright. Otherwise, staring like this makes one feel... uncomfortable."
The corner of Hua Ling’s lip twitched.
"Uncomfortable?" she echoed coldly, her heels clicking sharply as she scoffed and began to walk toward them.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Each step was deliberate, her tall figure cutting through the hallway like a blade.
But the closer she came, the clearer it was that her perfect facade had begun to crumble.
Her carefully applied makeup—meticulously layered to perfection for tonight’s Blue Awards—was already cracking under the harsh hallway lights, exposing fine lines of fatigue and raw emotion. Her dress, shimmering with sequins designed to capture every photographer’s flash, somehow looked dull, muted, especially when compared to Lin Qian’s flowing baby-blue gown that glimmered like starlight.
And that fact—that bitter, hateful fact—stabbed Hua Ling like a knife.
Because she knew. She knew that gown was supposed to be hers.
She had stolen the design, plotted to outshine Lin Qian with it, had been so sure tonight would be her moment of triumph. Yet here she was, standing face-to-face with the very woman she thought she had defeated, and somehow, Lin Qian was still the one dazzling brighter.
Her hatred boiled over, scalding her chest. She wanted to kill her.
When Hua Ling reached them, her eyes slid from Lin Qian to Zhang Ruo, her gaze narrowing even further. She saw the way Zhang Ruo’s hand was held firmly by Lin Qian’s, as though supported and protected.
Her lips curled into a sneer.
> "Have you forgotten who you work for?" Hua Ling spat, her voice low and venomous. "How dare you collude with enemies right in front of me?"
Her words were laced with fury, but beneath it was the sting of betrayal. Zhang Ruo, her own publicist, the woman she had relied on, was standing on the wrong side.
Zhang Ruo’s chest rose and fell sharply. Her tears had dried, replaced by a deep, steady fire. For too long she had been swallowing bitterness, but no more.
She straightened her back, her voice calm but biting. "Enemies, you say?"
Hua Ling’s eyes narrowed further. "Don’t play dumb with me. Now that that wretched woman is back, of course you’ll run back to her. Isn’t that it?"
The words dripped with venom, every syllable soaked in resentment.
Lin Qian felt Zhang Ruo’s arm stiffen under her hold. She knew this woman was not a pushover—she just needed a moment to stabilize her emotions. But Hua Ling’s accusations cut deep, and there was no ignoring them.
Zhang Ruo’s eyes slowly lifted, meeting Hua Ling’s with unwavering clarity. Her jaw clenched as she absorbed the insult, and though her lips pressed together in silence, her expression screamed louder than words:
Yes. If Hua Jing is back, then I will stand by her.
And Hua Ling, seeing that silent defiance, felt the last of her composure shatter.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, bitterness twisting her once-elegant features into something sharp, almost grotesque. The more she looked at them—the calm Lin Qian, the defiant Zhang Ruo—the more her hatred grew.
Hua Jing... Hua Jing... Hua Jing!
That name pounded in Hua Ling’s mind like a cursed bell that refused to stop ringing. Each syllable was like a sharp needle piercing through her temples, threatening to split her head apart. Why was it always her? Why must it be her?!
Her perfectly painted nails dug into the palm of her hand until crescent moons of pain carved themselves deep into her skin. The sting only fueled the madness boiling in her chest. The sight of Lin Chen and Zhang Ruo walking calmly hand-in-hand, their faces calm and unyielding, only twisted the knife deeper.
It should have been her—Hua Ling!
She thought bitterly of the past year, when Hua Jing had been nothing but a lifeless doll lying in a hospital bed. Those days had been glorious, almost heavenly. Hua Ling’s name had soared across every news outlet, every entertainment page, every social media post. She was the one showered with praise, she was the one hailed as the rising star of the nation. In that single year, she had tasted the kind of fame she had dreamed of her whole life. The spotlight had finally been hers and hers alone.
She had guarded that light with everything she had.
Hua Ling’s lips trembled, her teeth grinding so hard it felt like they might break. She had done everything to ensure that Hua Jing would never return. Everything!
Didn’t she personally collude with the doctors at that hospital? Didn’t she make sure that Hua Jing’s medications were tampered with, that her condition would never stabilize, that she would remain in that cursed vegetative state until her body withered away? Hua Ling had spent nights trembling in fear of being caught, but each morning she reassured herself that it was worth it—worth it to secure her place on top, worth it to make sure Hua Jing would never rise again.
So why?! Why was that woman standing here now, alive, breathing, smiling as if the heavens themselves favored her?!
The bitterness spread like poison through Hua Ling’s veins. She could almost taste the metallic tang of blood in her throat from holding back the scream that threatened to burst out. Her eyes burned with so much hate they could have set the hallway aflame.
And those two—Lin Qian and Zhang Ruo.
Standing so calmly. So united. So obviously siding with Hua Jing!
