Chapter Two: The Woman Everyone Forgot

fantasies of exhaustion. But there was no joke or spite in Wen's gaze—only a stranger's guarded suspicion. “I'm Qiao Sui,” Qiao said, her voice shaking. “I first did your makeup seven years ago on South Wall. You're allergic to latex, so every historical scar has to be made from rice paper. When you're nervous on a red carpet, you bite the inside of your left cheek, and I keep medicine in the van. When your father was hospitalized—” “Enough.” Wen stood. “Tang Li, get her out. Find out how she got my private information.” Qiao recoiled as though struck. Tang did not move. Two young assistants exchanged looks. One whispered, “Who's Ms. Qiao?” The other shook her head.