The interior of the theater's grand auditorium was a sprawling chasm of architectural luxury.
Below, the main floor was a sea of murmuring silhouettes— directors, celebrities, and wealthy investors taking their seats, their low conversations humming like a distant engine. But up on the highest tier, behind the heavily guarded mahogany doors, the private VIP boxes offered an entirely different world of absolute isolation.
Chen Ying sat in the deep shadows of the prime central suite, her hands resting elegantly on the polished leather armrests. The private box was designed like an enclosed balcony, separated from the theater by a thick, soundproofed glass partition that looked down upon the silver projection screen.
