Chapter 2

Meng Shengsheng followed the group onto the van with curiosity. Before long, they arrived at a cluster of buildings with a traditional aesthetic. The man leading them parked the car, showed his work permit to the guard, and they were allowed inside.

Guo Lihua addressed the man, “Brother Zhang, could you do me a favor later and help my friend get a temporary actor’s pass?”

Brother Zhang glanced at Meng Shengsheng again and grunted in assent. For him, issuing a pass was nothing complicated.

The van moved slowly, driving for about five minutes and turning a few corners before people started appearing in sight.

It was unclear whether they were filming a movie or a TV series here, but judging by the crowd, it was clearly a big-budget production. The two-hundred-meter street was bustling with people inside and out. The vendors lining the street seemed authentic, and as Meng Shengsheng looked around, she saw many traditional crafts—paper cutting, shadow puppetry, sugar painting—and many stalls she couldn’t even name. Her curiosity was piqued; she hoped to explore them if she had time later.

Brother Zhang called out loudly, “Background actors are here!” Soon after, Meng Shengsheng, together with Guo Lihua and the others, signed a temporary contract and were whisked off to makeup.

The makeup artist who attended Meng Shengsheng was instantly captivated. The girl before her was a rarity—lushly beautiful yet pure, lips curved in a smile, skin porcelain-bright. With years of experience, the artist could tell at a glance that this beauty was entirely natural, untouched by artificial enhancements.

Silently, she praised Meng Shengsheng, thinking she was more stunning than most stars she’d seen in the entertainment industry. If this girl entered the business, she’d surely become famous.

Meng Shengsheng sat waiting for her makeup, surprised by the silence. She looked up at the makeup artist and smiled, “Didn’t the director say things are urgent outside?”

The artist snapped out of her trance, “Ah, yes.” She surveyed the cheap cosmetics on the table, then reached into her own bag for her most expensive foundation and a fresh sponge, applying it to Meng Shengsheng’s face with care.

When her makeup was done and she stepped out, the director appraised the group of background actors, lingering longest on Meng Shengsheng. He conferred briefly with the assistant director, then left the latter to explain the scene.

Meng Shengsheng, like the other girls, was dressed in an airy pink gown—comfortable, silky, and cool. She wore a wig adorned with small white flowers; simple, yet beautiful.

The assistant director gathered the group, “You’re all young ladies out enjoying the street.” He pointed at Meng Shengsheng and said to two other actors, “After she finishes her scene, you two whisper among yourselves and leave.”

He finished assigning roles and turned to Meng Shengsheng, “You’re playing a noblewoman out with friends. Soon, a man will call to you from behind. You have a line: ‘Hm? Could it be you’ve mistaken me for someone else, sir?’—with some confusion, shyness, and a hint of playful teasing.”

Meng Shengsheng rehearsed the line a few times. The assistant director nodded in satisfaction, “Later, a camera will be very close to you. Don’t be nervous, just act naturally. After your line, smile—maybe add a touch of cheekiness.”

Meng Shengsheng replied confidently, “Alright!”

The assistant director clapped his hands, “Everyone remember your lines, don’t mess up. Follow me.”

When the assistant director arrived, the director summoned the main actors and called through a loudspeaker, “Get ready, we shoot in five minutes!”

The whole street sprang to life. Background actors came out from beneath the eaves, and even the steamed bun stall produced real steam, the buns inside plump and white.

Guo Lihua was chatting with Meng Shengsheng when another girl beside them whispered, “Hello, I’m Liu Ling.”

Meng Shengsheng smiled, “Hello.”

After the greeting, Liu Ling said, “Sister, I have a favor to ask—could I have your line? I’ll send you a red envelope later... Please, I really need this opportunity!”

Meng Shengsheng was only here for a summer job, not to pursue fame. Making money was enough; whether she spoke a line or not didn’t matter to her. She nodded, “Sure. I just joined the group chat—you can send it to me later.”

Liu Ling sighed in relief, hands clasped, “Thank you, really, thank you!”

At that moment, the director shouted, “Ready, everyone in position!”

The scene was simple: the female lead had run away, the male lead searched everywhere for her, missing her desperately. On the street, he spotted a figure resembling her and called out, only to find it wasn’t her.

---

“Action!” shouted the director.

Dressed in black, the male lead strode through the street with his attendants. Amid the crowd, three figures in pink gowns appeared and disappeared. The male lead caught sight of the back he longed for, abandoned his attendants, wove through the crowd, and finally caught up with the three girls. His heart raced as he called her name.

The three girls turned in confusion, and one in green replied, “Hm? Could it be you’ve mistaken me for someone else, sir?”

The girls covered their faces with fans, leaned in to whisper and laughed softly.

The scene ended, the director said nothing more, and it was done.

With all this, noon arrived.

The crew handed out lunch boxes. Meng Shengsheng and Guo Lihua found a shady spot and opened theirs—two meat, two vegetable dishes: stir-fried pork with green peppers, twice-cooked pork, fried greens, and tomato scrambled eggs, plus free tea. The food tasted surprisingly good.

Meng Shengsheng sighed, “The crew’s treatment is wonderful.”

Guo Lihua replied, “We’re lucky. Director He is a big name; his productions never lack funding, so the crew gets good treatment. The group I went to a few days ago had barely any money—lunch was spoiled, even dogs wouldn’t eat it.”

Meng Shengsheng nodded in appreciation.

Guo Lihua asked, “Did she send you the money?”

Meng Shengsheng checked her phone—three hundred yuan had been transferred. She nodded.

Guo Lihua saw it too and smirked, “You lost out. This is Hongyu’s big project of the year; the investment is billions. Getting screen time and a line in this film should easily be worth five or six hundred.”

Meng Shengsheng sighed, “If I’d known, I would’ve given you the line instead…”

Guo Lihua laughed, “Better to give it to her—at least she sends you a red envelope. If you gave it to me, I wouldn’t pay you. Besides, you’re so pretty. Standing together in a shot, the audience will all look at you; even if she gets the line, no one will notice her. She’s like the maid beside you, replying to your words…”

Just one morning, with the red envelope from the girl, Meng Shengsheng earned eight hundred yuan. The entertainment industry was truly a place of fame and fortune—spare change from the edges was more than many other professions.

After lunch, Guo Lihua went off to take a call from her boyfriend. A middle-aged man, smoking, approached Meng Shengsheng and handed her a business card. “Hello, I’m the executive director, Luo Hao. I saw your potential on camera just now. Let’s connect—I have a promising project that hasn’t started yet, and I think you’re a good fit.”

Meng Shengsheng took the card and listened to him speak, but someone called for him from the crew and he left.

As soon as he turned away, Meng Shengsheng tossed the card into the trash. Though her body was that of a naïve, newly adult girl, she wasn’t foolish. The man’s lecherous, veiled look told her all she needed to know.

These men claimed to be directors or producers from some company, offering opportunities to newcomers like her with little experience, pretty faces, hoping to make money and become famous. Some fell for it—either cheated out of money or led astray. The tricks were always the same.

But Meng Shengsheng had no desire to enter the industry. She just wanted to pick up the spare change scattered by the entertainment world, to cover her university living expenses and tuition. Even if the opportunity were genuine, she didn’t want it—no need to get entangled with such people.

After a busy day, Meng Shengsheng returned to her modest rented room and made a bowl of noodles for dinner.

Just as she picked up her books, her phone chimed. A message appeared in the group chat, and a friend request popped up.

“Add me, I’m Luo Hao from Tianyu Company.”

Meng Shengsheng frowned—Luo Hao? The man who gave her the card at the set?

Another message followed.

“There’s a good project. Add me on WeChat, let’s talk. I can offer you an audition for the third female lead.”

---

Meng Shengsheng’s frown deepened. She was certain he took her for an inexperienced newcomer. No experience, no acting skills, and he offered her the third female lead—how could she believe that?

She decided to ignore him, but he persisted, sending messages nonstop.

“Won’t you reconsider?”

“The female lead has already been cast—it’s Tong Ruo, the hottest star in the industry. Don’t you want to act alongside her? Don’t you want to be famous?”

“Such a great opportunity—others wouldn’t refuse.”

“If you’re willing to pay a tiny, insignificant price, I guarantee you’ll join the crew.”

Faced with this barrage of harassment, Meng Shengsheng blocked and deleted him.

Idiot.

She lingered on the WeChat screen for a moment, then turned off her phone and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Her first life, she knew nothing of her origins. After the college entrance exam, she chose a top-tier university in Shanghai.

The truth came neither early nor late. In her first semester of sophomore year, as she was preparing to tutor a student, a car stopped her.

The Yang family had found her.

The Yangs were famous merchants in Shanghai, living in villas, driving luxury cars, wearing brands she couldn’t name. Rumor had it those brands cost tens of thousands per garment.

After bringing her home, the Yangs told her to quit all her odd jobs. She was chauffeured everywhere; servants handled her every need, everything immaculate.

But she was not happy. At home, she couldn’t join conversations; at social events, she felt out of place—like a beautifully carved piece of wood.

The vast gap in social class made it impossible to adapt. Back at the Yangs, she felt like a clown locked in a gilded cage, constantly laughed at.

In everyone’s eyes, she was always inferior to the daughter raised in the Yang family.

—Shengsheng, you should get along with Yinyin.

—Shengsheng, learn from Yinyin when you go out. Not only does she excel academically, she has trophies from competitions, interests, plays piano and violin—why can’t you do anything but study?

—Meng Shengsheng, how can you be so malicious? Yinyin is your sister—why can’t you accept her?

—How could the Yangs have a daughter like you? I wish I’d never given birth to you. Get out! Get out!

...

Later, Meng Shengsheng learned that it was because she and Yang Yinyin had applied to the same university, and her appearance was strikingly similar to Yang’s mother in her youth, which drew Yang Yinyin’s attention and led to the Yang family’s discovery.

In this life, Meng Shengsheng had awakened before her return and learned the truth early. Not only that, she realized she was a supporting character in an entertainment industry novel; Yang Yinyin was the protagonist, and she was the foil. The better Yang Yinyin was, the worse she would be.

Meng Shengsheng had no desire to get entangled with the Yangs, so she applied to a top-tier traditional Chinese medicine university in the capital, just to keep far away from that family.