[The Ballet Troupe]
Ye Xiaoxiao took a deep breath and pushed open the backstage door of the ballet troupe.
A familiar yet foreign scent rushed toward her—
sweat, elastic bands, the faint leather smell of pointe shoes scraping against the floor.
Qiao Fei's soul floated beside her, eyes sharp with vigilance.
"Wait. Once we go in—
Instructor Shen will stare you down like she's about to swallow you whole.
Be careful."
Ye Xiaoxiao muttered,
"…I'd also like to swallow myself and run away."
But her foot had already stepped inside.
Dancers were stretching, pressing their legs, tying up their hair.
Someone looked up and froze.
"Qiao Fei?!"
"Oh my god, you're really back?!"
"You've lost weight!"
"We thought you were taking the whole season off!"
Ye Xiaoxiao forced a smile.
"Ah… y-yes… I'm back…"
Her smile was stiff, like a badly applied sticker.
Qiao Fei's soul shook her head beside her.
"You're smiling like you're selling insurance."
Instructor Shen approached in high heels, her presence heavy enough to crush air.
"Qiao Fei, are you sure you've recovered enough?"
"Today we'll only do warm-ups. Don't push yourself."
Ye Xiaoxiao nodded frantically.
"O-okay, okay… good morning, Instructor…"
Qiao Fei's soul covered her face.
"Great. She thinks you're stuttering."
Instructor Shen studied her for a moment, then frowned slightly.
"…Your attitude is more obedient than before."
Qiao Fei: "???"
Ye Xiaoxiao: "!!!"
Warm-up began.
The pianist struck the first note—
Ye Xiaoxiao's mind went completely blank.
But Qiao Fei's body—
moved without hesitation.
Point, plié, turn—
so elegant that Ye Xiaoxiao nearly wanted to applaud herself.
Whispers rippled through the dancers.
"Qiao Fei looks even steadier?"
"She rested and somehow got stronger?"
Ye Xiaoxiao screamed internally:
THIS IS YOUR BODY, NOT ME!!
Qiao Fei's soul crossed her arms and smiled faintly.
"At least… my teaching wasn't wasted."
[Film Set · Styling Room]
"—I'm telling you, this collar! Who—WHO—
which cursed assistant ironed it like this?!"
Wayne was roaring at a fairy-tale battle robe in the styling room.
Assistants huddled in the corner like they were riding out a typhoon.
Wayne lifted the costume, eyeliner trembling like a heart monitor.
"This collar looks like charred modern art!
I told you to re-iron it—not turn it into street barbecue!"
A junior assistant whispered,
"Wayne… the one usually in charge of ironing… Xiaoxiao hasn't come back yet…"
Wayne froze.
Half his anger evaporated instantly.
He took a breath, forcing down the unease in his chest.
"…I know.
But if she's not here, you all need to focus even more.
Anyone messes up again, I'll iron your bonuses flat."
"Yes!" the assistants scattered.
Wayne sat down, staring at the empty small desk—
the one where Ye Xiaoxiao usually sat, sewing tiny props while secretly sipping milk tea.
He pressed his lips together and quietly sent a message to Ye's mother:
[Is everything okay with the caregiver?
Any changes with Xiaoxiao today?]
After sending it, he leaned back, chest heavy.
—When will she wake up?
[Outside Another Film Set]
The moment the car door opened, shutters fired like machine guns.
"Qin Mu! Qin Mu, look this way!"
"Is the new action role difficult?!"
"We heard you've been going to the hospital a lot—who are you visiting?!"
Staff rushed in to block them.
"Please step back!"
"Don't block the way!"
"Careful with the equipment!"
Qin Mu kept his head down, hat pulled low, moving fast.
Yet his heartbeat sped up.
—He wasn't going to the hospital.
—He was just passing by.
—Just happened to be nearby.
At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
His manager caught up.
"Your popularity's rising fast. Paparazzi are everywhere.
Stop going to strange places, got it?"
Qin Mu replied coolly, "…Yeah."
But once inside the lounge, the first thing he did was pick up his phone.
On the screen was a photo of Ye Xiaoxiao lying in her hospital bed.
Asleep.
Quiet.
So small.
As if she could disappear at any moment.
His fingertip rested on the screen, a thought surfacing that no one could hear—
When will you wake up?
[A Film Production Company · Conference Room]
A long table filled with people:
producer, director, screenwriter, two investors, marketing director.
The atmosphere screamed one thing—
"We've been awake for three days and still can't find the female lead."
The producer slammed a folder onto the table.
"Male lead He Zhan is locked.
Second male lead Qin Mu is locked.
Antagonist Lu Gang is locked.
Our schedule for If Love Becomes a Calamity is counting down.
If you keep dragging this out, our theater slots are dead."
The director leaned back, rubbing his temples.
"I'm not dragging it out on purpose—your female lead requirements are insane."
He pointed helplessly at the character board:
[Shen Xu: 25 years old. Wealthy heiress.
Strong dance background.
Cool, restrained temperament.
Emotionally demanding role.]
He sighed.
"You want a face, you want legs, and she has to dance.
Should I summon AI—or a fairy?"
The marketing director groaned.
"Being a rich heiress isn't the issue.
The problem is—public figures who can do classical ballet are rare.
Actors who can dance don't fit the role;
those who fit can't dance."
An investor flipped through documents, frowning.
"Box office pressure's huge. We can't cast a nobody.
But if the dance doesn't look professional, audiences will tear us apart."
The producer tapped the table.
"Conclusion: We can't find her among actors."
Silence swallowed the room.
Then—
The screenwriter adjusted her glasses and spoke cautiously.
"…What if we reverse our thinking?"
Everyone: "?"
Her voice grew firmer.
"If we can't find a dancer among actors—
then we find an actor among dancers."
The producer blinked.
"You mean… from professional troupes?"
"Yes."
Her confidence grew.
"Emotional acting can be taught. Camera presence can be trained.
But dance foundation and temperament? You can't fake those."
"Instead of casting an actress who can't dance,
why not cast a dancer with no acting experience—and train her?"
The director's eyes lit up.
"…I like this direction."
An investor leaned forward.
"If she's beautiful and has a clean image,
the buzz could be even bigger than a rookie actress."
Marketing jumped in immediately.
"And the dancer background gives us a natural promo angle—
'Ballerina Crosses Into Film'!"
The producer decided on the spot.
"Good.
Get me profiles from every major classical ballet troupe in the country.
Photos, resumes—now."
Assistants moved fast.
Within fifteen minutes, dossiers piled up like snow.
The director, producer, and investors flipped through them.
Then—an assistant suddenly gasped.
"This—this dancer fits perfectly!"
She pulled out a file and handed it over:
Qiao Fei — Lead Dancer, XX Ballet Troupe
Specializes in classical ballet
Best box office and critical reception in tours over the past two years
Cool, steady stage presence
Striking appearance
High interview and performance view counts
The director looked at the photo—his eyes lit up instantly.
"This… feels right.
Too right."
The producer couldn't help exclaiming:
"This image—she is Shen Xu."
An investor flipped through her resume.
"Injured during tour, temporarily withdrawn?"
"That means availability!"
"And the news buzz is still there—perfect timing!"
Marketing slapped the table.
"It's her.
Contact the troupe immediately!"
The producer nodded.
"Done.
Arrange contact with Qiao Fei."
The assistant wrote quickly.
"Received. Contacting now."
The conference room's atmosphere shifted—
from stagnant and exhausted
to excited, urgent, electric.
And in this brightly lit room—
no one knew that this single decision
was about to pull three people—
Wayne, Qin Mu, and Ye Xiaoxiao (Qiao Fei)—
back onto the same track of fate.
The great wheel of destiny, at that very moment—