Chapter Fifty-Five: A Strange Occurrence

When Xiaoli woke up, the sky outside the window had already turned completely dark, and the eerie silence around her sent chills down her spine. She opened her eyes wide with trepidation, her heart suddenly jolting as she scanned the room in bewilderment.

Fortunately, everything seemed unchanged. No one was in the room, the script still lay by her side, and even her posture on the sofa remained exactly the same—only her hands felt numb, her waist ached, and her legs were stiff.

Her gaze searched everywhere but failed to find what she sought; there was no wall clock or anything similar in this guest room, which struck her as odd. But then again, she rarely wore a watch and probably just checked her phone these days.

Xiaoli felt her whole body limp, unable to lift her hands. A subtle unease stirred within her: what time was it now? It felt as though an entire century had passed.

She turned to look afar. The streetlights downstairs still glowed, but most buildings were enveloped in darkness. The sky was bleak, with hardly a single star visible.

Darkness before dawn? Impossible.

“Dulala...” Her phone alarm suddenly rang, accompanied by a fierce vibration.

Xiaoli felt as if her soul had left her body. She recalled setting the alarm for six in the morning, yet she distinctly remembered falling asleep in the afternoon. Could it already be the next day? Summoning all her strength, she frantically grabbed her phone; sure enough, the screen displayed 6:00 AM.

Darkness clouded her vision. Trembling, she managed to stand up. The numbness in her muscles slightly faded, but a faint discomfort lingered in her lower body. She forced herself to reason it might be a chill or perhaps the onset of her period.

Eyes wild with panic, Xiaoli rushed to the bathroom and stared blankly into the mirror.

The suite was spacious, as was the bathroom, but absolutely empty—only terrifying silence and loneliness.

Her heart sank deeper. The reflection staring back at her was still radiant, albeit a bit haggard; her false eyelashes remained perfectly intact; yet...

The third button of her blouse was undone, her bangs were slightly disheveled, and a faint red mark stained her neck.

What on earth was going on? Xiaoli collapsed onto the toilet seat. Suddenly, a strange liquid gushed forth, and her mental state teetered on the brink of collapse.

---

The following afternoon, the crew of “Perfect Lamb” began filming punctually. Clearly, Director Zhang Jun neither spoke recklessly nor broke any rules. Xiaoli, cast as the second female lead, arrived on time at the first shooting location.

There were no strange glances, no one uttered a word—everything appeared perfectly normal.

Even Director Zhang wore a strictly professional, serious, and unapproachable demeanor.

Xiaoli nearly convinced herself that nothing had happened the day before.

Of course, as someone involved, she could never truly believe that.

But two men had been in that guest room, and they had left early—had they returned midway? Was there a third party holding the key card to room 1302? Or perhaps hotel staff had access—were they suspects?

She could not be sure. Whom could she appeal to? How could she even start? The dilemma was maddening.

Then there was her reputation as a beautiful young woman... Alone and isolated, Xiaoli felt utterly lost on how to proceed.

Should she make a fuss? She lacked the courage. Or should she keep silent? How could she swallow such a bitter injustice? In this unfamiliar city, Xiaoli was struggling. She had classmates among the extras at Heyi Company, but they seemed to disapprove of her exceptional casting, perhaps even envying her.

Should she report it to the police? Test for DNA evidence? What were the procedures? The hotel was a public place; what if it wasn’t the person she suspected? The media loved to latch onto such scandals relentlessly. As a certain second female lead, she was sure to be dragged into the storm. If the police uncovered the truth, fine; but if the culprit was a fugitive, could she still survive in the entertainment industry? What chance did she have of rising then?

After endless pondering, Xiaoli realized that in this strange city, only Senior Hu Wenyi was truly close to her. This thought filled her with fear.

For a fleeting moment—

She even wondered, if it was Senior Hu who did this, should she forgive him?

Her heart bled, mixed with regret. How could she have come here alone, acting on impulse? Could she really be so unlucky? Thinking of her parents, a pounding headache struck her.

On her own in this world, she could only rely on herself. No matter what happened, she had to endure it.

With this resolve, Xiaoli attended the opening ceremony that day with a normal expression, though her guilt was impossible to conceal. At least Director Zhang noticed her distraction.

But he merely furrowed his brows, perhaps thinking she was tired from memorizing the script in twenty-four hours.

The first scene was filmed smoothly, although a particular shot was retaken several times—a common occurrence. Director Zhang even nodded to her at one point, seemingly approving.

Other actors in “Perfect Lamb” smiled at her, likely acknowledging her acting skills.

This made Xiaoli feel as if she were dreaming—her mind clouded, alternating between fear, pride, and inexplicable melancholy.

At Director Zhang’s insistence, filming continued overtime until eleven or twelve at night. The intensity numbed her but also left her feeling fulfilled.

---

After wrap-up, Director Zhang personally approached her and gave a clear thumbs-up.

Xiaoli timidly said, “Thank you for the compliment, Director. Is there... anything else you need me to do?” She opened her mouth a few times but said nothing more.

“Keep memorizing the script. You must understand it thoroughly—no half-hearted efforts,” Director Zhang said sternly.

Hearing “script,” Xiaoli felt a wave of dizziness. Yet the director’s tone was serious, and she remained speechless for a long time.

Rarely showing concern, Director Zhang asked, “Why so quiet? Are you scared?”

To Xiaoli, the question felt off. She wasn’t afraid of memorizing the script; it was the very idea of doing so in that hotel that gave her goosebumps.

Thus, a simple question became impossible to answer.

“I’m trying to talk business, but your mind keeps wandering,” Director Zhang muttered, then turned away without another word.

From afar, she could still hear him sigh, “Young people these days can’t endure any hardship...”

His words sounded bitter in her ears, as if trying to downplay the matter. Could this seemingly upright, esteemed director really be a hypocrite? Yet he appeared nothing like it—a kind veteran in the industry, a meticulous professional, a strict director—without a single flaw.

She resolved to ask Hu Wenyi directly. Whether or not he was involved, she needed the truth. Endless speculation would drive her mad!

She had already braced herself for the worst: if it was her senior who violated her last night, she wanted him to confess it plainly.

As for what would come after, she hadn’t even considered.

Such innocence—how severely she underestimated this world. With her clumsy self-righteousness, how could she ever contend with the cunning foxes who ruled it? In the end, she was merely meat on the chopping block.

From start to finish, she hadn’t recalled Wan Yongkun’s warning—a telling sign indeed.

What a foolish woman she was.