"Jenny, today's on the house." Johnny winked at Jenny from behind the bar. "One coffee, one pastry—on the house."
"Thanks, John," Jenny replied. Her shift had ended, and after eight hours on her feet, her legs ached in waves. "One black coffee, no sugar or milk. One Seagull Salad, no vinaigrette. Thanks."
Johnny gave her a curious look. "Are you dieting? Jen, I honestly don't see the need."
Jenny smiled without explanation, took the packaged meal from Johnny, and waved at him. "See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow." Johnny waved back good-naturedly. "Take care of yourself, Jen."
Jenny stepped out of the restaurant, bent down to unlock her bicycle, and hopped on, pedaling toward her apartment.
Her place wasn't far from the restaurant, and luckily, there were no hills—a rare blessing in Los Angeles's winding mountain roads. Chen Zhen had discovered this on her first day back at work after waking up, immediately spending a day's wages at a flea market to buy a bicycle.
After a twenty-minute ride, she arrived at her rented place—a small one-bedroom apartment in a mid-century building without an elevator, roughly twenty years old.
Due to America's high labor costs, the income gap between white-collar and blue-collar workers wasn't significant. Jenny worked as a waitress at a restaurant, earning a base wage of eighty dollars a day. Her restaurant did brisk business thanks to its specialty coffee offerings. Working two shifts in a row could net her over two hundred dollars daily, though it was quite demanding. Working just one shift, including tips, brought in around one hundred and thirty dollars. Her monthly income totaled about $4,000. The fifty-square-meter apartment was rent-controlled. Though located near Beverly Hills, the monthly rent was only $600—a legacy left to Chen Zhen by Jenny's former self.
The restaurant provided one meal per day. If, like Jenny, you were attractive and had a sweet smile that drew in customers, the owner Johnny would be more generous. He often covered two meals or gave her an extra takeout portion. In reality, Jenny didn't need to spend much on food. Even the coffee and hot dog meals beloved by Americans were essentially free. After paying rent, her monthly income left little else to spend.
Given Los Angeles' cost of living, saving two thousand dollars a month was easily achievable after buying fruits, clothes, and cosmetics. —But like most Americans, Jenny Jane clearly lacked any savings mindset. Especially as a beautiful Hollywood dreamer aspiring to break into showbiz, she was far from thinking about the future or pinching pennies. Chen Zhen was just relieved she wasn't drowning in credit card debt—a rare feat for an American girl her age.
Of course, Jenny Jane did leave her some "inheritance." She spent most of her paycheck on clothes and shoes. In this one-bedroom apartment, the living room doubled as a walk-in closet (Jenny owned at least a hundred pairs of shoes). The remainder went toward acting classes. When Chen Zhen took over the place, Jenny still had an unfinished community college acting course. As for other expenses, there were virtually none. Though she enjoyed clubbing with friends, her beauty granted her certain privileges—everyone understood.
It must be said, Jenny Jane was actually a remarkably driven girl. Despite harboring unrealistic dreams of stardom, she lived earnestly, accumulating bit by bit toward her aspirations. Had she possessed even a modicum of talent, coupled with the luck to win the lottery, she might have carved out a niche in Hollywood. But now, the original Jenny had vanished without a trace. The one destined to fulfill that dream of fame could only be Chen Zhen.
The moment Chen Zhen arrived home, she changed into workout clothes. She paced back and forth in the room, swiftly completing chores like sweeping. Moving so fast, even a simple warm-up left her body burning. She powered on her new computer, launched Winamp, and began dancing to the fiery Latin music.
After an hour of dancing and fifteen minutes of stretching, her body reached its limit. Chen Zhen collapsed onto the floor and dozed off for about twenty minutes. Only when a cool breeze woke her did she scramble up to shower and wash her hair, then begin her busy nighttime beauty routine.
Johnny was right—her figure was remarkably well-proportioned and athletic. Standing at five feet seven inches tall with a D-cup bust, Jenny typically wore size 4 (S) clothing, a rare feat among Caucasians. She needn't rush so frantically to exercise and lose weight; simply avoiding excessive eating and maintaining eight hours of standing daily would suffice to keep her shape.
But that's for ordinary people. For actresses, singers, or models—anyone connected to the entertainment industry or the camera—ordinary fitness is never enough.
Due to modern film and television aspect ratios and the conversion between three-dimensional and two-dimensional space, the saying "looking ten pounds heavier on camera" isn't just a comforting cliché for the overweight—it's a real phenomenon. And the visual impact on screen could easily exceed ten pounds, because while the human eye perceives three-dimensional depth with shadows and contours, film and television images are flat. This effectively flattens a person's form, making both face and figure appear noticeably fuller. Therefore, to appear normal on screen, one must have a smaller face than average in real life—a fundamental principle taught in acting schools. Consequently, performers with naturally round faces or less defined features are compelled to rigorously diet. Those blessed with naturally sculpted, layered features require less effort, though this doesn't mean they can indulge freely. For anyone with even a shred of ambition in the entertainment industry who doesn't want to play fat characters, they'll almost never get to eat their fill. The only difference lies in how they choose to starve themselves.
Of course, this comes at a cost. Actors who appear normal or slightly thin on screen often have faces that look terrifyingly small in real life—essentially skinny clothes hangers. Most struggle with being too thin, not to mention health risks. Even dating becomes difficult, since most people naturally prefer partners who look... well, normal. At the very least, in terms of appearance...
Chen Zhen was fortunate. During her student days, she followed the crowd and lost weight over four years. Since she had a boyfriend who preferred his girlfriend with a bit of softness, she never starved herself excessively. After graduation, she naturally married into a wealthy family as a young mistress. Though she still considered maintaining her figure, the effort required was incomparable to those in the entertainment industry. As for this lifetime, Jenny Jane possessed pure Germanic heritage. Such lineage bestowed deep-set features and sculpted contours—a drawback in aging prematurely, yet a boon for the camera. Her face naturally cast shadows, creating dimensionality that made her appear slimmer.
Aging can be mitigated with makeup, but weight gain cannot. When it comes to camera presence, one must admit Caucasians hold an inherent racial advantage. Moreover, Western aesthetics don't obsessively pursue extreme thinness. Thus, unlike her Chinese counterparts who strive to become skeletal or stick-thin through relentless dieting and plastic surgery, she only needed to shed excess fat through rigorous exercise. Maintaining a figure one size slimmer than average would suffice.
—Meaning her immediate goal was to fit into size 2 clothing.
She lacked the energy for extra gym sessions or the funds for a personal trainer. Fortunately, her past life as a wealthy housewife had instilled regular exercise habits to maintain her figure. She'd also danced Latin for years as a hobby, so she could work out at home. As for skipping dinner, cutting out sugar and dairy, and saying no to oil-based dressings—these were fundamental to weight loss, almost instinctive for Chen Zhen. Even in her previous life, she rarely consumed such foods.
After an eight-hour shift, the 40-minute bike commute each way, and an hour and a half of exercise upon returning, Chen Zhen's body was nearly at its limit. After showering and briefly glancing at the news, she collapsed into a deep sleep. At six the next morning, the alarm rang, and she rose punctually. She drank water, went for an hour-long morning run, showered upon returning, and only then sat down to eat her most important meal of the day.
She retrieved yesterday's packed salad, boiled two eggs, added a slice of blanched chicken breast, and poured a large glass of milk. After devouring this substantial meal, her stomach finally felt satisfied. Chen Zhen marveled at how resilient this Caucasian body was—after such intense exercise, she felt boundless energy again the moment she ate.
After breakfast, with an hour and a half before work, she didn't idle. Instead, she sat in a yoga pose in the living room, set her alarm, took a deep breath, and activated her golden finger.
As the golden finger moved, Chen Zhen instantly plunged into darkness.