The high-volume roar of the studio lot's central exit gates gradually faded into a muted hum as Chen Ying walked down the restricted executive corridor. She had changed out of the structured formal vest from the music video shoot, but she still wore the tailored midnight-black trousers.
Her dark hair remained sleekly pulled back, and the matte silver signet ring still rested on her thumb—a lingering trace of the "Male God" persona that had just completely upended the capital's entertainment algorithms.
Instead of her usual studio transport, a sleek, unmarked black Maybach was idling quietly in the VIP lane, its tinted glass reflecting the overhead studio lights.
The rear door clicked open smoothly from the inside. Chen Ying stepped into the dim, leather-scented luxury of the backseat, leaving the chaotic energy of the film sets behind.
