Chapter 7

I’d known since childhood that everything came at a price.

Adults made empty promises to children, men to women, bosses to employees.

I’d developed an allergy to promises, but I still had to put up with them.

Because too many people in this world wanted something for nothing.

They wanted to move their lips and have someone work for them, quickly and well.

They wanted to offer a promise and have someone lay down their life for it.

When they finally met someone who wouldn’t swallow it, and had no other choice, they’d grudgingly give a tiny bit. Then came the endless wailing. That tiny bit became an enormous sacrifice, and you were expected to remember their “kindness” forever.

The message was clear: if you’d taken anything from them, you owed them.

But you could never repay it.

Because a debt of “gratitude” was the most terrifying loan of all, with interest no loan shark could match.

Interest upon interest. Before you knew it, you were buried in debt.

You couldn’t repay it, but you weren’t allowed not to.

If you didn’t, they’d tell you to die.

Some people really did die that way.

But I wouldn’t.

From a very young age, I’d held one conviction:

If I was going to die, it would be for myself.

And so, in every relative’s eyes, I became an “ungrateful wretch.”

I didn’t care.

My heart had frozen countless times, then been smashed countless more.

I knew nobody in this world would be willing to give to me first.

…I knew.

I jerked awake.

The room was dark.

I picked up the phone beside my pillow. Past three in the morning.

Pressing a hand to my sweaty forehead, I sighed.

My head was a mess.

I seemed to have had a lot of nightmares.

But I couldn’t remember any of them.

Staring into the darkness, I suddenly thought of Zhu Tian’s handsome face.

I’d confirmed it: Director Peng really had chosen me for the female lead.

And just as Zhu Tian had said, she needed a strong woman for the role. I was too thin. I had to gain weight.

Her requirements were the exact opposite of the image I was currently maintaining. She’d told me to think carefully about whether I wanted the role.

She would give me a week.

I didn’t know whether to accept. I felt lost.

I’d held video meetings with both my manager and Yan Jing, but we hadn’t reached a decision.

This wasn’t something I could decide lightly.

If I gained weight, audiences might think I was fat. My fans might leave me too.

But a role in Director Peng’s work… An opportunity like that didn’t come just because you wanted it.

I’d never imagined that Director Peng would invite me and I’d actually hesitate.

God. How full of myself had I become?

It was all Zhu Tian’s fault.

I’d barely known her, and already her arrogant disregard for everyone had rubbed off on me.

I rolled over, then rolled over again.

Back and forth in bed, unable to sleep.

My back burned, covered in sweat.

I sat up and sighed again.

Then I got out of bed.

Forget it. I’d go outside for a walk and get some air.