The dark velvet curtain of the private box fell shut behind Chen Ying, cutting off the pale, harsh spotlight and leaving the proxy actor standing alone in the shadows of the stage.
She did not linger to hear whatever pathetic justification the 'prince' would try to feed through the hidden earpiece next. She had delivered her answer with a freezing clarity that left no room for negotiation, and she had no intention of granting an unseen spectator the satisfaction of watching her break, hesitate, or even breathe an extra sigh in his name.
She turned on her heel and navigated the dim, labyrinthine corridors of the theater with a swift stride. The heels of her boots clicked sharply against the cold marble floor, the sound echoing off the gilded molding and the dusty portraits of long-dead performers like a countdown.
Lin Qing pushed through the heavy, ornate iron exit doors at the back of the building, leaving the suffocating aroma of old velvet and stage paint behind.
