The news dropped at noon.
"Chen Yuna and Jiang Holdings Announce Strategic Partnership."
No engagement. No scandal. Just a quiet, elegant press release with two signature logos at the bottom and vague language about "brand synergy" and "future investments." It was the perfect smokescreen.
But silence didn't kill rumors—it fed them.
Forums speculated endlessly. "Is this damage control?" one thread asked. "She's hiding something," another claimed. A viral post featured side-by-side photos of Yuna entering Jiang Holdings and a close-up of her jade hairpin, with a caption: "Symbolism in plain sight?"
Yuna scrolled through them without expression.
She was at her agency, meeting with her manager and legal team. The same office that once overflowed with assistants, stylists, and executives now felt like a graveyard.
Her manager, Lin Zhen, was the only one still standing by her.
"You know they're watching," Lin said, tapping on her iPad. "Every brand, every agency, even your fan clubs. This… move of yours—whatever it really is—it's got everyone holding their breath."
Yuna closed the tab on her phone. "Let them."
"You'll need to be careful. Jiang Holdings is a shark tank. You sure you want to swim in it?"
"I'm not swimming," she said, standing. "I'm learning how to drown without dying."
Lin looked at her for a long moment. "You're changing, Yuna."
"Good."
Meanwhile, in the Jiang family estate—a sprawling modern fortress tucked into the hills—Jiang Hangzhou sat across from his father.
Old Mr. Jiang, sharp-eyed despite his graying hair, tapped his cane once on the marble floor.
"You signed a contract with a celebrity," he said. "Without telling me."
"She's more than a celebrity."
"Don't get sentimental."
"I'm not."
There was silence. Then Mr. Jiang chuckled bitterly. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"I was born into one."
His father's eyes narrowed. "You think you can control her?"
Jiang Hangzhou didn't answer.
Because the truth was—he didn't want to control her. He wanted her to survive.
And that made her more dangerous than anyone else he'd ever dealt with.
That evening, Yuna returned home to find her younger brother, Chen Wei, waiting for her in the garden. He was still in high school, fresh-faced and wide-eyed, and full of questions he didn't know how to ask.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You're… different lately."
She smiled faintly. "Good different or bad different?"
He hesitated. "Stronger. But scary."
She laughed—a soft sound that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I have to be," she said. "For both of us."
Inside the house, Madam Chen was already preparing Yuna's overnight bag again. She didn't ask where Yuna was going. She only pressed a red envelope into her hand.
"For luck," her mother said.
Yuna tucked it into her purse without opening it. She didn't believe in luck anymore—but she believed in ritual.
By nightfall, she was back at Jiang Holdings.
This time, she wasn't escorted in like a guest. Mei met her at the elevator and handed her a keycard.
"Your new access," Mei said. "The penthouse floor has been prepared."
Yuna looked at the card, then at Mei. "So soon?"
"Mr. Jiang doesn't like delays."
They reached the top floor. The penthouse wasn't lavish—it was sleek, modern, masculine. All sharp edges and cold color tones. The only soft detail was a single white orchid on the marble countertop.
"Let me guess," Yuna said. "You picked the flower."
"I did."
"I appreciate the effort."
Mei gave a rare smile. "You're going to need a lot more than orchids, Miss Chen."
Yuna walked the space slowly, noting every camera, every door, every angle.
She wasn't just moving in.
She was entering enemy territory.
As she unpacked that night, her phone buzzed with a new headline:
"Luya Media Launches Offensive—Sends Legal Threat to Chen Yuna Over Breach of Contract."
Yuna's eyes narrowed.
So, the war had started.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she opened the red envelope from her mother.
Inside was a single slip of red silk embroidered with golden thread.
A single word was stitched into the fabric.
Endure.