Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 33.1

In the dim corridor, the reflective tiles mirrored the blurred scenery outside the window. A door at the far right was being tugged repeatedly, letting out rhythmic, heavy thuds.

Beads of sweat formed on Yin Yunzhu’s forehead. Her fingers had turned red from gripping the lock too tightly. As she leaned her body weight against the door, her fingertip, which she hadn’t pulled back in time, was inevitably pinched.

“Ah!” she let out a sharp, short cry, pulling her hand back to inspect the swelling digit.

In the faint light, the bright red fingertip turned a bruised, alarming purple. The searing pain was unbearable; she clutched her ring finger and slowly crouched down.

Leaning weakly against the base of the wall, she strained her ears. Minutes ticked by, but the message she sent to Jiang Menghe remained unanswered. Her phone battery was dead, forcing her to shut it down.

The soundproofing between the various sections of the TV station was excellent. Yin Yunzhu couldn’t hear a thing, leaving her unsure if the recording for the variety show Tomorrow’s Star had already begun.

Lost in a wave of anxiety, she suddenly heard footsteps coming from the adjacent emergency exit.

Like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline, she ignored her injury and scrambled up to pound on the door.

“Is anyone there?” Her plea for help filtered weakly through the gap in the door.

“Who’s that?” The hollow sound of footsteps stopped on her floor.

Then, a man’s silhouette blocked the sliver of light coming through the gap. He was in a security uniform, a cluster of keys jingling at his waist as he moved.

“Could you open the door? I’m in a hurry.”

Before she could even finish, the guard had already unclipped his keys, searching for the right one among a row of labeled tags. The key slid into the lock with a click. He removed the padlock and kicked the door open.

“How’d you end up in here? You young girls, you’d risk your lives just to chase a star. If I hadn’t happened to walk by,” the man grumbled incessantly as he held the door open for her.

“Thank you.” Her legs were numb, making her gait look rather awkward.

“Hurry up, get going! You’re holding things up.” The guard shooed her away like a stray chick. He impatiently bit down on a cigarette and relocked the door to prevent anyone else from wandering in.

“I’m so sorry.” Blushing with embarrassment, Yin Yunzhu quickly asked for the location of the restrooms and a power bank rental before taking the elevator back to the venue.

Her phone was now connected to a bulky power bank, which she struggled to hold with one hand. She jogged to the entrance of the venue, only to be stopped by a staff member.

“I’m sorry, recording is currently in progress. You cannot enter.”

Yin Yunzhu checked the time; it had been nearly half an hour since the start.

Regret and resentment toward those two people filled her heart. Even presenting her entry pass was useless. Frustrated, she had no choice but to head to the coffee shop at the end of the hall to rest.

It’s all their fault.

She ordered a caramel latte and gloomily stirred the layers with her straw. Just as she was debating whether to go back to the hotel or wait there, someone stopped in front of her.

“You are,” the woman’s voice came from above.

Yin Yunzhu looked up and saw Ye Xiyang. Her image was consistent: a well-tailored lady’s suit adorned with an exquisite corsage that matched the silver studs in her earlobes.

Yin Yunzhu remembered her, she was Jiang Menghe’s manager. They had met during a celebrity interview shoot, where Jiang Menghe had addressed her as, “Ye Xiyang. You can call me Sister Ye, just like Menghe does.” The woman took a seat opposite her.

“Hello, Sister Ye.” An awkward tension washed over Yin Yunzhu. She didn’t know how to handle these semi-familiar relationships.

With someone she was close to, like Bei Jiali, there was no need to force conversation; staying quiet together was fine. With a stranger, like Xiao Guo, a simple greeting on the street sufficed.

But this was Jiang Menghe’s manager. The pressure she exerted was no less than that of meeting a partner’s parents.

Scenarios from countless novels flashed through Yin Yunzhu’s mind: the manager of a female star tossing out a lucrative offer, demanding she leave the star so as not to become a stumbling block on the road to fame.

Indeed, at one point, Ye Xiyang had entertained such a thought.

Having worked beside Jiang Menghe for many years, though they weren’t exactly best friends, she understood her deeply. Jiang’s circle was clean; if one had to name a bad habit, smoking was about as far as it went.

Yet now, after all this time and having just secured a Best Actress award, an unknown lover had suddenly appeared. If she were hounded by obsessive, extreme fans, her public image would crumble instantly.

On the other hand, she knew Jiang Menghe was a person of discretion. The conversation they had at the Art Center last time had slightly eased her internal concerns.

For someone in their thirties, it was normal to have desires that needed an outlet. Especially for someone like Yin Yunzhu, a young, beautiful Omega. A few whispers of “Sister” while lying beneath her would be enough to make anyone lose their head.

At the end of the day, Ye Xiyang was just a manager; she couldn’t overstep. The most she could do was offer advice and analyze the pros and cons.

“Why are you out here?” Ye Xiyang asked. She remembered Jiang Menghe had messaged her earlier; the girl should be at the stage by now.

At the mention of it, the frustration in Yin Yunzhu’s chest knotted up again. She bit her straw and mumbled, “I ran into some trouble and didn’t make it in on time.”

Ye Xiyang didn’t suspect anything. “There are cameras everywhere inside; it wouldn’t be good if you were caught on film anyway.”

She had a decent impression of Yin Yunzhu. The girl was quiet and didn’t seem like the type of drama queen who would post cryptic, sweet updates on Weibo to bait fans into digging for dirt.

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to Menghe’s lounge. There’s a live broadcast feed there.”

Spring had begun, and the cold air had lost its razor-sharp edge, but it was still far from warm to sit outside for long. Yin Yunzhu was wearing a fleece jacket today, the hood adorned with two brown bear ears that made her look endearingly clumsy.

Although she couldn’t see Jiang in person on stage, watching the live stream meant she hadn’t technically missed the date. At this thought, she smiled, revealing two shallow, swirling dimples.

“Thank you, Sister Ye.”

Inside the venue, the crowd was bustling, and every seat was filled. In the darkened environment, deep purple lights glowed at the edge of the stage. The host was introducing the acts, and the cameras frequently cut to the faces of the four mentors.

Jiang Menghe watched the newcomers on stage with a sense of boredom, but she couldn’t let her fatigue show. She spent the entire session maintaining a polite smile. Among the four, Chen Nan was the most active, offering constructive criticism almost every time.

He was a senior from Ren Yu’s company and was currently doing quite well in the rap scene, often looking out for his junior. Perhaps because of this, he frequently cast side-glances at Jiang Menghe during the show.

Currently performing was a music major from a media university. Accompanied by a melodic, slow backtrack, she sang soulfully into the microphone. Her voice was clear and ethereal, like the chirping of insects hidden in the grass on a summer night.

Chen Nan rested his chin on his hand, his eyes full of approval. Once the song ended, he couldn’t wait to pick up his microphone.

The audience erupted in thunderous applause. Young, beautiful girls naturally attracted more attention, especially when they possessed such impressive talent, a step above the previous contestants.

After the host finished the introduction, the four mentors were asked for their comments.

Chen Nan leaned back in his chair. “I heard you’re a music major? In your department, what level would you say you’re at?”

As he spoke, he made a simple gesture with his hand. Setting aside professional terminology, the man was clearly very interested in the person on stage. In all likelihood, he would discuss signing her with his company.

The girl answered his questions respectfully, and the two went back and forth. Jiang Menghe idly toyed with the notebook on her desk. She heard Jiang Shiyun, who was sitting close to her, let out a faint, quiet tch.

Thinking back to Yin Yunzhu’s earlier complaint, her drifting thoughts finally settled. It felt like being draped in a thin veil, giving rise to a subtle sense of anticipation.

She is watching me from the audience.

Jiang Menghe’s lips curved slightly. She lowered her voice and asked the person beside her, “I don’t understand vocal technique very well. Xiao Jiang, what do you think?”

Jiang Shiyun shot her a glance. When her narrow eyes lowered, she gave off a “don’t mess with me” vibe.

“I’m just an actress; I don’t understand these things.” As long as the cameras were on, the woman never forgot her persona. She said a few brief words that, to an outsider, made it look like she didn’t even hold Jiang Menghe in high regard.

The private exchange between the two didn’t escape the director’s notice, and the shot was quickly switched with keen intuition. On the big screen facing the audience, Jiang Menghe was seen leaning forward, her expression relaxed, whispering softly with Jiang Shiyun.

For the sake of engagement, many production teams would intentionally cut to misleading scenes to create hype. However, since Jiang Menghe was a specially invited guest, they didn’t dare edit her segments recklessly.

The host quickly redirected everyone’s attention. “The two teachers are sharing secrets! I wonder what your evaluation of this contestant is?”

“I don’t understand these things. I’ll just follow Chen Nan’s lead,” Jiang Shiyun said slowly.

“Teacher Jiang has always had a sharp eye, and her evaluation this time is good. I wonder if the two of you have reached an agreement.”

The host’s greatest skill was stoking the fire and building suspense.

Since the safe comments had already been taken by others, Jiang Menghe couldn’t just give a perfunctory answer. She took a moment to recall the contestant’s performance.

“From a layman’s perspective, it was good. This is a love song; it would be better if the emotional resonance were stronger,” she offered a fair critique.

The girl on stage was clearly a fan of Jiang Menghe. From the moment Jiang picked up the microphone, her excitement and nervousness were palpable.

“Thank you, Teacher Jiang!” A visible blush crept onto her face, and she stammered, “Then, may I ask, what counts as having expressive power? Was it not soulful enough?”

This appearance was strikingly similar to the way Yin Yunzhu acted in front of her. Jiang Menghe paused, averted her gaze, and used simple language to describe it. “It’s enough if your eyes can talk.”

“How about Teacher Jiang gives us a demonstration?” the host suggested. The camera zoomed in, almost pressing against Jiang Menghe’s face.

While such behavior might seem offensive to others, Jiang Menghe had been in the entertainment industry for so many years that she was used to it.

“Look at the contestant with soulful eyes and let her observe carefully,” the host said meaningfully. The girl on stage stood perfectly still, not daring to breathe.

The staff below signaled the audience, and the hall immediately erupted in a roar of applause, exactly as the script intended.

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