Chapter Seventy-Two: Making Amends

Las Vegas grows livelier as night deepens. Near midnight, the streets are still bustling with people. Rong Qing and Huo Lingtian made their way toward the hotel, the night tinged with mystery. Simply walking hand in hand as a couple in a foreign land brought a unique sense of peace and tenderness to their hearts.

The phone rang. Rong Qing answered, and on the other end, Old Wang Zhang’s exuberant voice swept her up in his excitement.

“‘Splendid Years’ has broken fifty million at the box office on its opening day—overwhelming! Damn it, this is a miracle!” Wang Zhang could not hide the pride and astonishment in his tone; he had never imagined a domestic art film could surpass international blockbusters. Compared to the garbage he used to make—well, this was something else entirely.

“Really? Oh my God, amazing!” Rong Qing’s beautiful eyes widened in disbelief, her hand covering her mouth as she glanced at her watch—just past midnight. This success had far exceeded her expectations; she had secretly hoped for ten million on opening day, but fifty million—five times her dream. All her previous anxiety and unease melted away, replaced by irrepressible joy.

After hanging up, Rong Qing, as lighthearted as a songbird, leaped to Huo Lingtian’s side, her arms flung around his neck, her mouth wide with laughter, her eyes squinting in delight. “Lingtian, Lingtian, I did it, I really did it... hee hee...”

Though Huo Lingtian was a man who rarely wore his emotions openly, his eyes sparkled with deep joy, indulging his beloved’s happiness. Watching her restless worry these past days, he had almost sent people to buy tickets for the film just to boost her numbers. But logic quickly dispelled the idea. His beloved was strong and proud; she wanted to succeed on her own merits, or she would never have so resolutely refused his help at the start.

“Darling, you’re incredible.” She had stood by him through hardship, and now he shared her triumph.

“Splendid Years,” a grand Chinese-language film, set a miraculous fifty million record on its opening day and soon became a sensation in the big city theaters, where tickets were impossible to get. With superstar Huo Tianwang, Wen Rui’s fame in the Chinese-speaking world, Rong Qing and the century’s top model’s international influence, and the guarantee of globally renowned director Wang Zhang, the film’s success was almost inevitable. But those who had actually seen it—young and old alike—praised it to the skies. “Splendid Years” not only embodied the dreams and ideals of a generation in the 1980s, but its academic take on love and the tender campus romance also prompted deep reflection among modern men and women. Compared to today’s throwaway romantic films and mediocre scripts and acting, such a spiritual feast was rare indeed. Media and the internet unanimously acknowledged the film’s value, and the public embraced it.

As for Rong Qing, once dismissed as a mere “pretty face,” her superb acting had outshone even the star Wen Rui, making her an internet sensation and darling of the media. All previous negative rumors evaporated. Her film stills, unearthed and circulated online, led netizens to dub her “the most elegant university student in history.” Her “love” fan index soared, and her microblog alone counted millions of followers.

The film’s global success led to translations in various languages and screenings around the world. The triumphant Las Vegas premiere meant the crew was heading to their next destination—the fashion capital, Paris.

With David’s autumn show approaching, Rong Qing had accepted his invitation to walk the runway. In Paris, she would promote the film and take part in the David fashion show—killing two birds with one stone. Huo Lingtian had finished his business in Las Vegas as well. Though she only knew he sometimes went out and returned with a faint scent of blood, his composed gaze and formidable strength left Rong Qing untroubled.

With “Splendid Years” a resounding success, Director Wang Zhang spared no expense, booking first-class tickets for the cast to Paris and reserving a five-star hotel. Spirits were high, and as soon as the crew reached the city center, they couldn’t wait to jump out and go on a wild shopping spree.

Yet Rong Qing felt a pang of guilt as she, under Director Zhang’s overtly scrutinizing gaze, mustered her courage and followed Huo Lingtian up to the presidential suite with her luggage. Zhang’s brows twitched; why did he feel the strange sense of a daughter growing up and becoming hard to keep at home?

Rumors of Rong Qing and the president of the Huo Group had surfaced as soon as “Splendid Years” began production. Now, seeing the city’s most eligible golden bachelor inseparable from Rong Qing, the story of her being “kept” was clearly nonsense. After all, what patron would wait for you patiently for hours, care for you tenderly, or take your advice? No one had ever seen a wealthy heir so obedient to someone he was supposedly keeping. Honestly, this was more like grooming the future Mrs. Huo—especially with Huo Lingtian’s gentle, almost liquid expressions that would make any woman swoon.

With Rong Qing perhaps soon to marry into the Huo family, the crew’s attitude toward her became more respectful and enthusiastic. The entertainment industry is a place where power rules and loyalties shift with the winds; you never know who might stand at the top of the world next.

There was a soft knock at the door of the luxurious presidential suite. Rong Qing, who was unpacking, paused and glanced curiously at Huo Lingtian, who was busy with work, before going to open the door.

“It’s you?” she said in surprise. Someone as proud as her would never have come to see her in person—no matter her manners, no one could let someone who had once humiliated and hurt them step inside their home.

Wen Rui’s face was wan; even as the female lead of the triumphant “Splendid Years,” nothing could erase the exhaustion and desolation in her eyes. Compared to the radiant superstar she had been months ago, she now appeared aged and battered, new lines furrowing her brow.

“I’m here to apologize,” Wen Rui said, her posture humble. In the past days, upheaval at home and a plummeting reputation had left her worth lower than that of third-rate stars. Had she not already signed on as the female lead in “Splendid Years,” she might have been utterly destitute, unable even to afford daily expenses.

Rong Qing remained silent. She asked little of others, content to go with the flow. But once her bottom line was crossed, she was no saint, nor could she forgive so easily with a few words. In the entertainment world, everyone needs their own defenses and cunning. She simply harbored no malice or envy.

Suddenly, Wen Rui, who had been so humble, dropped to her knees before Rong Qing. Though few passed the presidential suite, some staff still witnessed the scene.

Wen Rui knelt sincerely, apologizing: “Rong Qing, I was wrong before. Please forgive me. I’m sorry.” For such a proud woman to kneel before her caught Rong Qing completely off guard.

“Don’t do this—come inside, we can talk,” Rong Qing said quietly, turning back into the suite.

Wen Rui followed, each step on the soft carpet feeling unreal. Past the entrance, she saw the man she dreaded lounging lazily on the sofa. Even in casual attire, the power in his muscles was like that of a lion, creating immense psychological pressure—Huo Lingtian, the emperor who ruled all.

Rong Qing sat casually beside him and invited Wen Rui to sit as well. She watched as Huo Lingtian poured her a glass of water with attentive gentleness. With all he had done for Rong Qing, Wen Rui felt a glimmer of hope.

Rong Qing handed her the water, but Wen Rui declined. They sat together in silence, awkward like old friends who had not seen each other in years.

“It was my jealousy, my bitterness, that led me to make grave mistakes. I don’t expect your forgiveness. But because of what happened, my parents lost their jobs and are now bedridden. I’ve already failed them as a daughter, but I want to take care of them and give them a safe home,” Wen Rui said, her voice tinged with sorrow. Time had left her with more understanding, and a trace of weariness. Rong Qing sensed her sincerity.

The moment Wen Rui knelt, Rong Qing had already forgiven her. A woman laying her greatest dignity at one’s feet—such sincerity made it impossible to remain harsh or keep pressing the matter. Wen Rui had paid the price for her mistakes. Neither of them were gods, nor could they control fate.

A gentle smile of relief appeared on Rong Qing’s face. “Go home. Everything will be all right.”

Wen Rui was incredulous. She glanced at the emperor-like man on the sofa, more surprised that Rong Qing would make such a decision without consulting him. In her years in entertainment, she had never witnessed such an equal and harmonious relationship. The foundations of her own beliefs about love were starting to crumble.

She watched him, his expression unchanged, and, suppressing her curiosity, quietly left their suite. Inside, the air between the two seemed a paradox—he was domineering as a king, but before her, all his edges melted away, leaving only his bare, unguarded self. The blend of their auras was strange, yet harmonious.

Leaning against the wall outside the room, Wen Rui slowly slid down and exhaled deeply. She had done all she could; the outcome was now in fate’s hands. She looked at her forearms, bruised and pale from drug injections, her eyes calm.

David had been impatient for Rong Qing’s arrival in Paris. That scoundrel Aaron, swept away by infatuation, had secretly gone to China, and just days ago, the perfect prince of fashion had returned to his country in defeat and despair. Now, with both his star models gathered in Paris—two of the world’s most flawless faces—a global fashion show was about to shock the world. This was the pinnacle, the ultimate moment in fashion, the fulfillment of his lifelong dream.

David’s autumn show was set for the Louvre, chosen to create an even grander spectacle. This season’s theme was inspired by Rong Qing’s temperament—icy pride streaked with gentle brilliance, all in cool tones. The theme: “Frost.” Cheeks like peach blossoms, heart cold as ice. Only a woman with such unique allure could radiate true fashion.

As the “Frost” fashion show approached, tickets had long since sold out. The summer exhibition had already crowned him king of the fashion world, and now everyone was discovering the unique charm of this Eastern woman. To find inspiration, David had gone to see “Splendid Years” himself. Her character’s cold beauty and solitary grace left the master of the fashion world in awe. Here was a raw gem, uncut and dazzling, stunning all who saw her.

– – – End of excerpt – – –

Ah, it seems I have so little in reserve—this won’t do at all.