The Supporting Female Lead Chooses to Mark the Villain [Rebirth] - Chapter 88

When Sang Nian returned to the top floor, the place was already empty. She sighed, and after a moment’s thought, she left a note on the neighbor’s door with her contact information and an explanation for why she had missed their appointment.

With the awards ceremony fast approaching, she spent the next two days buried in rehearsals and various events. She only returned to the hotel at bedtime, missing any further chance to cross paths with little Sunny. Fortunately, they had successfully added each other as contacts and exchanged voice notes whenever they had a free moment.

“What are you doing?” Mo Huai asked. Having just finished adjusting the hem of Sang Nian’s dress, she looked up and immediately shifted back into “worried mother” mode. “Look at the time. You’re still playing on your phone?”

Sang Nian was busy coaxing her “little angel.”

“I’m busy today too, so I’ll definitely be back even later than last night. Be a good girl and go to sleep on time. I’ll play with you next time, okay?”

Hearing Mo Huai’s voice, Sang Nian looked up and smiled. “I know, I know.”

Just as she was about to put the phone down, a new voice note from Sunny popped up. The little girl gave a mock-serious sigh, her voice still so milky and sweet that it made Sang Nian want to pull her into her arms and spoil her.

“Mommy isn’t home today either,” Sunny said.

Sang Nian asked, “Is there someone there to look after you?”

“Auntie Su! We’re playing with blocks!” Sunny replied quickly. In the background, the clack-clack of building blocks could be heard.

“I see,” Sang Nian replied. After a pause, she formally said goodbye to the little one. “I have to work now, so I can’t chat anymore. If you need anything, ask Auntie Su. Be good, okay?”

Sunny was full of energy. “I know! Mommy!”

Sang Nian couldn’t hide the smile on her face; even the corners of her eyes danced with joy.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had already secured the Best Actress trophy tonight,” Mo Huai remarked, observing her closely. She leaned in. “Who is it?”

“Uh,” Sang Nian instinctively pressed the phone to her chest. “It’s nothing. Just a little friend I met recently.”

Mo Huai hummed in response. “Fair enough. It’s good for you to talk to people.”

“Oh?” Sang Nian was surprised. Mo Huai was usually extremely cautious, often screening fan mail several times before letting it reach Sang Nian. “I thought you were going to tell me to maintain professional boundaries.”

Mo Huai rubbed her nose. “Normally, I would.”

Sang Nian smiled and toyed with the diamond necklace around her neck. “So this doesn’t count as ‘normal’?”

Mo Huai looked at her fixedly.

Sang Nian blinked. “What is it?”

“Do you know what kind of expression you have right now?”

“What expression?”

“Outside of acting, I haven’t seen you smile this brightly in nearly three years.”

Sang Nian fell silent.

“It’s good. It’s time you moved on from the past,” Mo Huai said, patting her shoulder. Before Sang Nian could respond, Mo Huai held out her hand. “It’s time. We need to head to the red carpet for the finale. Give me your phone.”

Sang Nian took one last look at the screen. A notification for a new, two-second voice note was flashing. Sunny’s messages were short, but endearingly persistent. Without thinking, Sang Nian pressed play.

“Mommy, I miss you so, so much!”

The little girl’s adorable voice rang through the speaker, as sweet as a peach candy.

Sang Nian: ^-^ Mo Huai: —o—

Once she processed what she heard, Mo Huai nearly jumped out of her skin. “Did you kidnap someone’s child?!”

“Maybe I did,” Sang Nian joked, her mood Excellent. She locked the phone and handed it over. “Let’s go. Red carpet time.”

With that, she lifted her skirt and led the way toward the entrance. Mo Huai followed behind, stammering in a panic. Finally, she managed to blurt out, “…You know that’s a crime, right?”

“I know,” Sang Nian said, a slight curve to her lips.

“Abandonment is also a crime! My dear ancestor!” Mo Huai huffed. “How can you joke about something like that?”

Sang Nian’s smile turned more dazzling. “Didn’t you start it?”

As she finished speaking, she stepped onto the red carpet and into the glare of a thousand spotlights. As a rising star and a top contender for the Best Actress award at this international festival, the attention on her was unprecedented. Photographers didn’t bother saving their film; they pressed their shutters frantically, hoping to capture a singular, classic moment.

Sang Nian walked with a steady, graceful pace. When she heard people calling her name in Chinese, she turned and offered the crowd a soft smile.

When she reached the host, the first question was: “I feel like you’re a bit different today?”

“Am I?” Sang Nian asked.

“YES!” the host exclaimed, catching her eye. “How are you feeling? Has something wonderful happened recently?”

“Yes,” Sang Nian nodded, though she offered no further explanation. She said calmly, “I feel very relaxed. I have a feeling something good is about to happen.”

“Wow!” the host chimed in. “Something good? Could it be the award tonight? You seem very confident.”

“The trophy will go to the person who deserves it,” Sang Nian replied with a practiced air of mystery, yet her expression remained bold and determined. “I’m looking forward to it.”

On the global livestream, a few critics called her “arrogant,” but they were quickly drowned out by fans. [She deserves it!] [Look who the focus of the night is. It would be a problem if Shen Nian didn’t win.] [I love this confidence of hers!]

At the venue, the atmosphere was even more electric. The host led the applause, and amidst waves of cheering, Sang Nian ascended the steps to claim her glory. Later, media reports would unanimously refer to the event as “The Night of Shen Nian.”

Standing on the podium with the trophy in hand, Sang Nian delivered her thanks to the crew, her agency, and those who had helped her. Midway through, she paused for air and looked out at the sea of unfamiliar faces. For a split second, her mind went blank.

She quickly recovered, realizing she was drifting into thoughts she shouldn’t have. She bit her lip slightly, using the sharp pinch of pain to ground herself. To the audience, it merely looked like the new Best Actress was tucking a stray hair behind her ear and taking a moment to compose her emotions.

She continued smoothly, “New challenges and journeys excite me. I look forward to bringing better works to the audience in the future.”

The applause and cheers formed a triumphant anthem as Sang Nian stepped down, heading toward a future destined to be brilliant. However, she wasn’t as composed as she looked; that brief moment of distraction had left her legs feeling slightly weak.

She sat back down next to Duan Wenyin. Facing her friend’s excited congratulations, she offered a simple “Thank you.” When the ceremony ended, Sang Nian wanted to leave, but Duan Wenyin pulled her back.

“Don’t go yet! There’s a banquet afterward. We’re going together.”

Sang Nian rubbed her temples. “I think I’ll skip it. I’m tired and want to rest.”

If she left now, she could be back at the hotel by 9:00 PM. Then, she could go across the hall and say goodnight to little Sunny. Sang Nian didn’t know why she was so fixated on a girl she’d known for less than a week, but she felt she needed the emotional support that the “little angel” provided.

“Hold on a little longer!” Duan Wenyin urged. “My idol, Director Quina, will be there. Don’t you want to meet her? She’s filming the third installment of Greer, and I know you love that series!”

Sang Nian wavered.

“Plus, Dai Shuyuan, Chloe… these legends might not show up again for a long time,” Duan Wenyin tugged at her sleeve. “If you miss tonight, you miss your chance!”

“Alright,” Sang Nian conceded. She straightened her sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit!” Duan Wenyin hooked her arm. “Am I the first lucky lady to walk into a banquet with the Best Actress… wait, sorry, Best Actress Sang?”

“Yes,” Sang Nian teased. “I hope Philip feels the same way.”

“You underestimate him,” Duan Wenyin tossed her hair. “He’ll be happy for me. He might even be jealous!”

Sang Nian laughed. The interaction lightened her mood. As the winner of the night, Sang Nian was the most radiant presence at the banquet. Many industry insiders approached her to offer congratulations, including the legends Duan Wenyin had mentioned.

Even with the mental fortitude of someone who had lived two lives, Sang Nian felt a surge of emotion when these role models praised her acting. Her heart raced—it felt like only yesterday she had stumbled into this industry, and now, she had reached its highest peak.

“Thank you,” Sang Nian whispered into Duan Wenyin’s ear.

“Don’t thank me,” Duan Wenyin smiled. Knowing how hard Sang Nian had worked, she didn’t want to take the credit. “Your talent speaks for itself. Even without me, another director would have helped you become a star.”

Sang Nian shook her head. Duan Wenyin didn’t realize that the “thank you” wasn’t for the trophy. In Sang Nian’s memories of her past life, Duan Wenyin was her mentor and the benefactor who had changed the trajectory of her life. Without her, Sang Nian might never have entered the industry or had the strength to fight against injustice.

Thinking of this, she leaned in again and said with deep sincerity, “Thank you.”

Suddenly, Duan Wenyin felt a piercing gaze on her. She looked toward the source, and Sang Nian followed her eyes.

Sang Nian froze. She forgot even the basic reflex of blinking as she stared at the woman surrounded by the crowd.

“Hiss—” Duan Wenyin gasped, grabbing Sang Nian’s forearm. “Isn’t that…?”

Her voice snapped Sang Nian back to reality. Sang Nian forced herself to look down, hiding her emotions. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke the name she only dared to utter in dreams.

“Shen Zui.”

“Why is she here?” Duan Wenyin asked, her voice trembling with concern. “Are you two… back in contact?”

“No,” Sang Nian shook her head. She turned away and downed the remains of her champagne in one go.

“Then, do you want to go over and ask—”

“Director Quina is over there,” Sang Nian interrupted. “Didn’t you want to meet her? Let’s go.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Duan Wenyin allowed herself to be led in the opposite direction from Shen Zui.

Behind them, after finishing a round of social pleasantries, Shen Zui looked up only to see their retreating figures. Sang Nian’s hand was on Duan Wenyin’s back, and since Duan Wenyin was petite, it looked as if she were leaning into Sang Nian’s embrace. It looked incredibly intimate.

Shen Zui’s brow furrowed, a flicker of sorrow appearing in her eyes. But soon, her assistant whispered, “The Smiths are ahead.” Shen Zui turned back, putting on her professional smile to continue the networking.

Quina and Duan Wenyin hit it off immediately. As fellow directors, they had much to discuss. Duan Wenyin soon forgot the earlier incident, diving into a discussion about Quina’s new film.

Sang Nian couldn’t join in, so after listening for a while, she gave Duan Wenyin a look and stepped aside. The banquet was buffet-style, with tables laden with Western delicacies. Sang Nian wasn’t particularly interested, but she picked up a small plate to keep herself occupied.

She took two pastries and found a quiet corner to eat. But less than five minutes later, her solitude was interrupted.

Sang Nian looked up. First, she saw an elegant white silk gown. The woman was slender, with a waist one could almost wrap a single hand around, yet she possessed a graceful fullness where it mattered. A faint fragrance followed her every move—she was the very definition of “allure.”

Sang Nian took a bite of a doughnut and immediately frowned. It was cloyingly sweet, a mix of sugar and butter that was almost too much to handle. Unable to spit it out, she chewed with a certain grim determination.

“Is it too sweet?” Shen Zui asked, sitting down beside her.

Sang Nian paused but then continued eating as if nothing were wrong. She hoped her cold shoulder would drive the other woman away, but Shen Zui had no intention of leaving. She handed over a glass of water, clearly prepared. “To rinse your mouth?”

Sang Nian finally looked up, meeting her gaze. Their eyes were filled with a thousand unspoken emotions.

“I didn’t realize,” Sang Nian scoffed, “that CEO Shen had the time to care about strangers.”

Shen Zui’s expression didn’t waver. “Strangers?” she asked softly. “The stranger who marked me completely?”

Sang Nian bit her lip. Three years ago, she thought that “complete marking” was Shen Zui’s promise of love—a bond that meant they could never be apart. But when the woman disappeared, Sang Nian was left to wonder if it had just been a form of compensation or a mere pastime. Recalling it now was not pleasant.

She countered with the same logic. “Three years without contact—if that doesn’t make us strangers, what does?”

“Then let’s get reacquainted.” Shen Zui didn’t press the issue. She was still as beautiful as ever, and those eyes made it hard to resist her. Like a skilled hunter, she knew how to exploit her prey’s weaknesses. She leaned down slightly, letting Sang Nian see the slight tremble of her eyelashes.

“My name is Shen Zui, one of the sponsors of this banquet. It is a pleasure to meet you…” She paused, whispering the finish: “…Miss Sang Nian.”

Sang Nian put down the half-eaten doughnut and calmly wiped her hands and mouth with a napkin. “CEO Shen, I have heard much of your reputation.”

“So, we aren’t strangers anymore?” Shen Zui smiled faintly, as if indulging a temperamental junior. She offered the water again. “Do you want it?”

“I appreciate the gesture,” Sang Nian stood up. “But I wouldn’t dare presume a friendship with you.”

She had rehearsed this in her mind: she should give a polite excuse, pick up her plate, and leave this cramped corner with dignity. But for some reason, her legs felt like lead.

Shen Zui looked at her, her voice trembling slightly. “Do you really not want to see me that much?”

“I’ve seen you. Now what?” Sang Nian challenged.

“Don’t be angry.” A pair of cool hands settled on Sang Nian’s shoulders. Shen Zui’s voice was deep and heavy. “It’s been three years, Niannian. I missed you so much…”

Sang Nian went stiff for a moment. She felt a jolt run through her, a sensation she couldn’t distinguish between pain and a numbing thrill.

“You disappear for three years, and you think saying ‘I missed you’ makes up for it?” Her breathing grew heavy as she glared at Shen Zui.

Shen Zui shook her head. “Of course not.” She cupped Sang Nian’s face, looking into her eyes. “Give me a chance to make it up to you, alright?”

“Heh.” Sang Nian brushed her arms away. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? Actually, I shouldn’t take anything a person like you does seriously. You’re someone who can vanish the moment a marking is finished. How do I know your ‘compensation’ isn’t just another lie?”

Shen Zui asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Sang Nian spat. “You go back to being the Shen family heir, and I’ll keep being a minor actress. Now that your ‘condition’ is cured, we have no reason to cross paths.”

Having delivered her ultimatum, Sang Nian knew she couldn’t stay. She straightened her mouth, stepped around Shen Zui, and prepared to leave the corner behind.