Cocktail Catastrophe: Jane's Graceful Mishap

Shayla was intimately conversing with Oliver Bennett, the station manager of Jade Television, while William Blake stood a few steps away. The two occasionally exchanged glances. Jane, holding a cocktail in her hand, carefully walked over when suddenly her foot slipped, and she took a fall.

As she was about to douse Shayla in drink, Shayla screamed in fright and raised her hand to block it. Jane, terrified, lunged forward powerfully, knocking Shayla down onto the dining table and using her own back as a shield. The colorful cocktails spilled all over her, ruining her white dress.

However, though Jane protected Shayla from the spilt drink, it didn't mean Shayla looked any better. Jane had forced her down onto a table where a variety of delightful cakes had been laid out. Now, Jane didn't need to look to know that Shayla's hair, neck, and back were undoubtedly in better shape than her own.

The room burst into a commotion, then quickly fell silent as everyone's gaze shifted to Jane and Shayla.

The event organizers, adept at public relations, were first to react. They stepped forward to pull Shayla up, demanding, "What have you done? Release Shayla at once! You…"

"Shayla, I'm sorry! So sorry! I... I…" Jane unexpectedly was the first to shout, flusteredly getting off Shayla. Her own cheek was wet from the drink, drops trickling down her face. She clumsily wiped her face with her hand, smearing the alcohol over her skin, washing away her makeup to reveal a stunningly clear and fresh face. Nervously tugging at the front of her clothing and uncertain who to turn to for help, she scanned the surrounding men. Her eyes met with William Blake's and quickly shifted away, her eyelashes holding back tears, yet she bravely refrained from crying.

The organizers initially intended to disqualify Jane for her misconduct towards Shayla. Still, hearing her shout "Shayla" and seeing Shayla's autograph clearly written on her arm, they were confused about the actual relationship between the two.

It took a moment for Shayla to get up, reaching back to touch her hair only to find her hand covered in cream and jam, her complexion shifted drastically, and she yelled, "Shit! What the hell?"

Startled, Jane hurried forward to help clean her off, pleading, "Senior sister, my mistake, I was just trying to bring you a drink, but I didn't expect… didn't expect…"

"Who is your senior sister! You damn brat!" Shayla bellowed furiously.

"Shayla also graduated from the Arts Academy; she was in the acting class while I was in dance…" she said, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at Shayla pitifully, suppressing a sob as she bit her lip. "Sister, I beg you, please don't send me away..."

Jane had memorized Shayla's file through and through, finding it quite unexpected that they were alumni. Now, Jane brought up Shayla's alma mater in the conversation. Shayla, being a woman who cared about her reputation, would not chase away a junior in such a gathering, surrounded by celebrities and insiders, and risk getting a bad name for being unaccommodating. Jane tossed the ball into Shayla's court, waiting for her verdict.

Confronted with this groveling junior sister, Shayla couldn't bring herself to erupt in anger. Looking at the black cream chocolate in her palm, feeling the greasy weight at the back of her head, and not knowing what had gotten onto her backless dress, she forced a smile that seemed to be squeezed out through her clenched teeth, "You're lucky it's me this time. If you were this careless with someone else, even if you were my junior, I couldn't help you!"

Upon hearing this, Jane's face lit up with joy as she shone with gratitude, bowing deeply to Shayla, "Thank you, sister! I won't be so careless again! I won't ever do anything to shame you again!"

Shayla's chest heaved with emotion, yet she smiled and addressed the crowd, "Everyone, I'm sorry to say that Shayla needs to fix herself up. Please continue to enjoy the lovely evening, pardon my leave..."

Although the guests exchanged pleasantries with Shayla, there was a hint of concealed amusement when she briskly walked off and they caught sight of her cream-smeared head and back, a paint-like coating of cream jam. This was probably the first time Shayla had ever appeared so disheveled in her career.

Jane watched Shayla leave with deference, then humbly crouched down to pick up the shards of glass from the floor. Her petite and pitiful appearance caught the attention of many, when suddenly, someone exclaimed, "Ah, she's bleeding!"

Only then did the crowd notice that the girl's leg had been cut in several places by the broken glass, with several streaks of blood sliding down her tender, snow-white skin, strikingly conspicuous. Jane, seemingly oblivious, continued to clean up the glass, accidentally cutting her fingertip and causing a droplet of blood to roll down...

"Stop cleaning; let the janitor handle it," a large hand suddenly grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. A glint of light flashed through Jane's downcast eyes – William Blake had finally taken the bait. She shrank back slightly and looked up at William Blake, calling out in a faint whisper only the two of them could hear, "Naughty uncle, I…"

William Blake gave a gentle smile, then turned to a beauty beside him and instructed, "Evelyn, take her down and clean her up properly."

Jane was led by this uniformed beauty named Evelyn into a hotel suite. Jane timidly asked, "Miss, you're so beautiful; may I ask if you're the uncle's…?"

The beauty's face turned slightly cold, her eyebrows raised, "Uncle? You mean Mr. William? How so, are you two close?"

Jane neither nodded nor shook her head, only biting her lip and faltering, "I don't know if we're close…"

The beauty opened the bathroom door, her tone a bit more polite than before, "Go inside and clean up. I'll bring your clothes over in a bit. Oh, I'm Mr. William's secretary. You can call me Evelyn."

"Mmm, thank you, Evelyn!" Jane smiled sweetly.

Once inside the bathroom and the door was closed, all traces of Jane's smile vanished, replaced by a look of contemptuous mockery and deep-seated hatred in her eyes—Shayla, William Blake, the game has just begun; let's take our time to play.

It was a world where everything depended on acting skills; only those who could lay it all out were able to deliver the most convincing performances.

Taking off her soiled dress and enduring the pain from her leg wounds, she washed herself clean and wrapped in a bath towel, stepped out, only to find William Blake sitting on the sofa. Jane stepped back in alarm, instinctively clutching the edge of her towel, biting her lip in shock as she stammered, "Uncle, what, what are you doing here?"