At the penthouse;
Sunlight slipped through the tall glass windows in soft slanted sheets, catching in the steam rising from Elena's teacup. The faint floral sweetness of narcissus tea drifted lazily through the room, calm and deliberate, as if the world outside did not exist.
"That's it—this is just too much!"
Simon Lau paced the living room like a trapped animal, phone clenched in his hand. His face had gone red from anger, veins standing out at his temple as his thumb furiously refreshed the page.
"They're evil, Boss. Pure evil! This is slander! Defamation! We should sue them into the ground until they crawl on their knees and beg for mercy!"
Elena lifted her teacup, blew gently across the surface, and took a slow sip. Her shoulders relaxed as the heat slid down her throat.
"Boss, how can you drink tea at a time like this?!" Simon Lau spun toward her. "They're saying you're pregnant! They're saying you slept with Jin Yang! Some of them are even saying you raped him! What kind of human garbage makes things up like that?"
"Come," Elena said softly, lifting the teapot. "Have some tea. It's very good."
"I don't want tea!" Simon Lau nearly shouted. "I want justice!"
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she poured him a cup anyway. "Why are you angrier than I am?"
"Because you're my boss," he shot back instantly. "How can they insult you like that? If someone talked about my mother like this, I'd already be at their doorstep throwing hands!"
Elena finally set her cup down. The porcelain clicked lightly against the saucer.
"Simon," she said quietly, resting her chin on her hand, "were you not warned about my reputation before you came to work for me?"
He hesitated. "Well… yes. People said you were difficult. Temperamental. And a bit High-maintenance."
She raised a brow. "That's a polite way of saying I was a bitch."
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I only believe what I see with my own eyes. And what I see now is the best boss in the world."
Her gaze softened a little.
"That's because you only met the me of now," she said. "The old Elena earned that reputation. People don't need to invent reasons to hate her. They already had enough."
"That doesn't mean they get to trample on you like this now," Simon Lau grumbled.
"I plan to let them see the new me," she replied calmly. "But suing them won't do that. It will only make more noise."
Simon Lau slumped into the sofa with a scowl. "You're too calm for your own good."
Just then, his phone vibrated insistently in his hand.
He glanced at the screen and stiffened. "Boss… It's Mr. JJ." He answered quickly, then turned and passed the phone to her. "It's for you."
Elena accepted it without hurry. "Hello, Mr. JJ. This is Elena Zhang."
On the other end, a man's voice sounded strangely serious. "I listened to the two tracks you sent."
"And?" she asked lightly.
"Do you have more?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Enough for a full album."
There was silence.
Elena lifted her cup again, sipping leisurely as if discussing the weather.
Finally, the voice returned, lower now. "Did you really compose these yourself?"
"Yes."
"They're very different from your old style."
"They're closer to who I am."
"You won't explain more, will you?"
"I want the music to speak this time," she replied. "Mr. JJ, what do you truly think of the songs?"
Another long pause.
"They're good," he finally said. "No… they're amazing. Too amazing. Listening to them made my chest ache. There's loneliness in them. Pain. Depth. Which is exactly why I find it hard to believe you wrote them."
"But I did."
"I want these songs," he admitted. "I really want them. But…"
"But you're not sure you want me," Elena finished calmly.
"Yes," he said bluntly. "You're in a terrible position right now. Disappeared for more than a year. Scandals are flying everywhere. And now you want to completely change your image and music style? Singing this kind of music instead of bubble-pop? That's a huge gamble. For you. And also for me."
Elena's eyes flicked toward Simon Lau.
He was gripping his teacup like it was a murder weapon.
"I won't sell these songs then," she said steadily. "They're mine. I wrote them to sing myself. I won't let anyone else touch them before I do. After I release them, then we can talk about composing for others."
A heavy sigh came through the receiver.
"I figured you'd say that," Mr. JJ muttered. "You're stubborn. But I like that. Miss Zhang… I want to meet you."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
She gave a brief smile. "Send me the place."
After noting down the address and time, Elena ended the call and set the phone aside.
Simon Lau stared at her wide-eyed. "Boss… are you really doing this? You're going head-to-head with the entire entertainment industry."
She lifted her tea again.
"I already died once," she said quietly. "I can afford one gamble."
Simon: "..."
*
The restaurant at the five-star hotel shimmered with quiet luxury.
Jiang Jun, aka JJ, sat by the window with a half-finished glass of dry martini between his fingers. He tilted his wrist and checked his watch.
Two minutes to go.
His foot tapped once beneath the table.
She better not be late.
He wasn't some small-time producer waiting on an audition. People waited for him. When he agreed to meet someone in person, it meant the opportunity alone was already worth gold.
One minute.
His gaze slid back toward the entrance, already prepared to scowl.
That was when he saw her.
The head waiter stepped forward to greet a tall young woman near the doorway. They exchanged a few quiet words. The head waiter glanced toward JJ's table, then gestured politely and turned, guiding her forward.
JJ straightened without realizing it.
His spine lifted. His shoulders squared. His martini rose halfway to his lips and froze there.
She walked with unhurried confidence, heels clicking softly against marble.
Not model-tall, but taller than most women.
Her figure was slim, curved in all the right places, the kind of elegance that didn't need exaggeration. A black long-sleeved wrap dress hugged her waist and skimmed her hips before flowing past her knees. The V-neck dipped just enough to hint, never shout.
Simple black heels lifted her posture even higher.
Her long, straight black hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, framing a delicate face hidden partly behind mirrored aviator sunglasses. The reflection caught the chandelier light as she moved, flashing gold.
JJ's grip tightened around his glass.
When she stopped before him, the air seemed to quietly shift.
"Mr. JJ," she said, voice soft and pleasant, exactly the same tone he remembered from the phone call. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
His brows knit together as if to confirm.
"Miss Elena Zhang?"
She nodded and extended her hand calmly.
JJ stared at it for a beat too long.
Her fingers were pale and neat. No gaudy rings. No sparkling stones. No neon polish. Just a clean, simple French manicure.
He laughed awkwardly under his breath and rose to his feet, finally taking her hand. "Miss Zhang… wow. If you hadn't confirmed it yourself, I might have thought I was meeting the wrong person."
A faint smile curved her lips.
The head waiter pulled out her chair and waited until both of them were seated before taking their orders.
A pot of steaming herbal tea was placed in front of Elena. She thanked him with a nod and lifted the cup lightly, blowing on it before taking a slow sip.
JJ watched her over the rim of his glass.
Her gestures were unforced. Nothing exaggerated. No rehearsed glamour. No restless scrolling on a phone. She simply sat there, composed, as if this luxurious space belonged to her and didn't at the same time.
It unsettled him.
"You're really Elena Zhang?" he asked again, still unconvinced.