Chapter 6: Whispers and Shadows

The storm didn't arrive with thunder. It crept in like mist—soft, quiet, undeniable.

"Top Star Chen Yuna Spotted Leaving Jiang Holdings at Midnight—Romance or Scandal?"

"Is Chen Yuna Retiring? Sources Report Sudden Changes in Career Trajectory."

"Jiang Hangzhou and the Starlet: Secret Business or Something More?"

By dawn, the internet was howling. Blurry paparazzi shots of Yuna being ushered into a black car—face hidden, shoulders stiff—flooded every blog, tabloid, and entertainment site. There were no photos of her with Jiang Hangzhou, but that only fueled speculation.

At the Chen family estate, Yuna sat cross-legged on the balcony, cradling a cooling cup of oolong. Her phone hadn't stopped vibrating since sunrise. Reporters. Producers. Former classmates. People who'd ignored her for years suddenly cared deeply about her whereabouts.

She didn't answer a single call.

Silence, she had decided, was her sharpest blade.

Across the city, Jiang Holdings was a different kind of battlefield.

Inside the executive boardroom, Jiang Hangzhou sat alone at the head of the table. The usual seats were filled—directors, advisors, and department heads—but the air was taut.

"We need a response," the PR director said nervously. "This could spiral."

Jiang's fingers tapped the armrest once. "Let it spiral. Do not release a statement. Not yet."

"But sir, the longer we delay—"

"Exactly." His tone was cold, final. "Delay is strategy. Rumor keeps their eyes on the shadows instead of the truth."

A murmur rippled through the table.

"What about the… arrangement?" one of the legal advisors asked carefully.

Jiang glanced at Mei, who sat quietly beside him, tablet in hand.

"The contract is nearly finalized," she said, eyes never leaving her screen. "We'll present the final draft tomorrow. Quietly. Privately."

No mention of a marriage. No word of a contract.

The board didn't know. They didn't need to.

Jiang Hangzhou made sure of that.

Back at the Chen household, Madam Chen stood at the threshold of Yuna's room, watching her daughter pack a small overnight bag.

"You don't have to face them alone," she said softly.

"I'm not," Yuna replied, folding a silk blouse. "I have myself."

Her mother stepped forward and placed a delicate object into her palm. A jade hairpin—slim, elegant, old.

"It was mine," Madam Chen said. "Wear it when you sign. A reminder that your story is still yours."

Yuna gripped the hairpin tightly. "Thank you, Mama."

The ride to the studio was uneventful until her phone buzzed. Mei.

"Miss Chen," came the crisp voice, "Mr. Jiang would like you to review the final draft by tomorrow morning. He suggests signing by Friday."

Yuna smirked faintly. "He wastes no time."

"You requested speed," Mei replied evenly. Then, after a pause, "Can I ask something personal?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you believe this is worth it?"

Yuna looked out the tinted window. "Do you believe I should've said no?"

Mei hesitated. "I think… you're doing what only the brave can. That deserves more than judgment."

For the first time all day, Yuna's voice softened. "Thank you."

She ended the call and tucked the phone away, only then realizing her hands were trembling.

The photoshoot was for a skincare brand—the last of her endorsements still standing. But even here, the atmosphere had changed. Staff whispered. Assistants fumbled. Cameras clicked with more caution than confidence.

Photographer Zuo Wei approached her carefully.

"Rough day?" he asked.

She smiled with poise. "Just another Tuesday."

He chuckled, but there was empathy in his eyes. "If you need to stop—"

"I won't," she said, stepping into the light. "Turn the lens on. Let them watch."

Flash after flash. Pose after pose. Yuna gave them everything they expected—flawless angles, grace under pressure.

But inside, she was building something sharper than beauty: control.

That evening, in Jiang Hangzhou's office, Mei placed a slim folder on his desk.

"She reviewed the draft. No objections. She'll sign tomorrow."

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied the contract in silence.

"She's received new offers," Mei added. "Luya Media wants her exclusive. They're pushing hard."

"She'll decline."

"You sound confident."

"I don't need to sound confident. I know her now."

There was something in his voice—an echo of curiosity, maybe respect.

"She's not what I expected," Mei murmured.

Jiang turned to the window, the city sprawling beneath the twilight sky.

"She reminds me of someone I buried a long time ago," he said. "Someone I failed."

Mei didn't ask who. She just quietly left the room.

The next morning, Chen Yuna arrived at Jiang Holdings wearing a navy dress with sharp shoulders, heels that clicked like threats on marble, and her mother's jade hairpin glinting in the sunlight.

Inside, the lobby buzzed like a disturbed hive. Security moved fast, blocking photographers. Cameras still flashed. Whispers filled the air.

But Yuna walked through them like smoke—untouchable.

Upstairs, in a quiet meeting room away from the board's eyes, Jiang waited with Mei and two lawyers.

Yuna entered, her gaze level.

"No press?" she asked.

"Not one invited," Jiang replied. "They followed you."

"Let them. They'll only see what we let them."

Mei handed her the contract. Yuna sat and read through every page, her eyes steady.

Clause by clause. Privacy, career autonomy, zero intimacy for six months, a clean break clause.

Perfectly transactional.

When she finished, she picked up the pen.

"You're sure?" Mei asked gently.

"I was sure the moment I walked out of your office that night," Yuna replied.

She signed.

Jiang signed next. No hesitation.

Mei collected the contract, nodding once. "It's done."

Yuna rose. "Then I'll take my leave."

But Jiang held her back with a single word. "Wait."

She turned.

"We'll release a statement," he said. "Business collaboration only. No personal ties. No engagement."

Yuna's brows arched. "Hiding it already?"

"Strategizing. Let them think it's harmless."

Her smile was slow, dangerous. "You want them off my scent until it's too late."

"Exactly."

She stepped closer. "Fine. But when they find out—when the truth breaks—"

"Let them choke on their assumptions," Jiang said.

A pause.

And then, for the first time in days, Yuna smiled.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle.

It was warpaint.

She wasn't just entering a contract. She was stepping onto a battlefield.

And for the first time, the world would see her not as a starlet or a pawn—

—but as a player.