The stars were sparse in the night sky. Yuan Huihui was the last woman to return to the room to rest, and she made no effort to conceal the sound of the door as she shut it behind her.
Xu Lijun had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, exhausted from the day's grueling schedule. Only Feng Wan remained in a half-asleep state, unsettled by the unfamiliar surroundings.
When she heard the creak of the door opening, her brows furrowed. The next moment, the sound of Yuan Huihui's dragging footsteps—heels clacking loudly against the floor—confirmed her suspicions.
Feng Wan was now certain: this petty woman was doing it on purpose—creating noise just to disturb them. In that case...
Thud.
Yuan Huihui suddenly felt lightheaded and collapsed to the floor, hitting her head and immediately sprouting a large bump.
Once she confirmed Yuan Huihui was truly unconscious, Feng Wan silently dragged her to the side of the bed and, with a flick of her wrist, tossed her onto the empty bed furthest away.
If it weren't for the risk of Yuan catching a cold from sleeping on the floor, Feng Wan would've happily left her there like the troublesome diva she was—because frankly, the floor suited her much better.
Only after taking care of everything did Feng Wan finally drift off into a peaceful sleep, ready to meet the God of Dreams.
The next morning, Yuan Huihui sat up groggily, rubbing her aching head. She felt dazed as if chunks of her memory were missing.
Still disoriented and enduring waves of pain from her forehead, she made her way to the bathroom. When she looked in the mirror and saw the giant bump that had swelled overnight, she froze in disbelief.
What the hell?!
How did her face become such a disaster overnight? No amount of makeup could cover that bump! For someone as obsessed with perfection as she was, this was utterly unacceptable. She collapsed to the floor in tears.
The commotion quickly drew the attention of the show's staff. A female producer rushed over, thinking something serious had happened.
"Miss Yuan, is everything okay? Please tell us what's going on!"
Hearing someone approach, Yuan Huihui immediately stopped crying. She frantically tried to sweep her hair over the bump to hide it.
Unfortunately, she didn't have enough hair volume at the temples to make it work. As soon as she looked up, everyone in the room caught a full view of the coin-sized swelling.
The cameraman, having received orders through his earpiece, zoomed in without hesitation—capturing it all in high-definition glory.
Some staff who had been barely holding back their laughter couldn't resist any longer and accidentally burst out giggling.
Once the first laugh slipped out, the rest followed like a domino effect, a wave of muffled laughter rippling through the crew.
Yuan Huihui's face burned with humiliation. Inside, she was cursing all of them for laughing at her misfortune.
The female producer, who had been trying the hardest to hold back, had her shoulders shaking. After taking a few deep breaths, she managed to speak again.
"Miss Yuan Huihui, what exactly happened? I'll call the doctor over to take a look."
A medical staff member quickly came over and applied ointment to her forehead. Before leaving, he gave a few reminders:
"Don't touch the bump, and keep applying the medicine daily. It'll go down on its own in a few days. Try not to worry too much."
But the words did little to comfort Yuan Huihui. The thought of continuing to film with her face like this made her heart bleed.
Later, she secretly went to speak with the director.
"Director Lin, you've seen what I look like right now. For the next few episodes, can I take a break and go home to recover? I won't even take payment for these few days."
Director Lin didn't even flinch. "Miss Yuan, you should've read the contract carefully. There's a clearly stated penalty for breach. If you're willing to pay it, I can have a car take you home immediately."
Yuan Huihui cursed all eight generations of his ancestors in her heart but kept a smile on her face.
With that huge, medicine-covered lump on her forehead, her expression looked downright creepy.
"Director Lin, didn't the contract also say that in the case of unforeseeable circumstances, I could withdraw?"
"You're trying to argue this bump is an unforeseeable circumstance? You can still walk and talk just fine. Quit whining. Unless you're paying the penalty, there's no other way out. Since you chose to join a variety show, I suggest you drop the idol baggage."
In the end, Yuan Huihui could only walk out with a grim expression. Her lifestyle was too lavish to afford the penalty fee, and more importantly, she refused to humble herself and ask a man for money over something like this.
Meanwhile, to reward the cast for their hard work the day before, the production team had prepared breakfast in advance—no need for the guests to cook today.
Feng Wan was quite pleased. She sat comfortably at the table, happily devouring soup dumplings and century egg lean pork congee.
The others had grown used to her large appetite after last night's feast.
Xu Lijun, on the other hand, could only watch with envy.
As an international model, she had to constantly monitor every bite she took—counting calories religiously and never daring to overeat.
Among the others, two middle-aged men ate without restraint. Only Zhou Zhengkang seemed distracted, frequently glancing around because Yuan Huihui still hadn't shown up.
The rest, however, continued eating and chatting as if she didn't exist. After yesterday's events, none of them—aside from Hong Mao—had much patience left for her.
When Yuan Huihui finally reappeared, the sight of the purplish ointment-covered lump on her forehead left even simp Zhou Zhengkang stunned.
How could the beautiful fairy he admired turn into a tragic version of Zhong Wuyan overnight?
For a looks-obsessed guy like him, it was a visual crit.