Her words that day were like a sedative, temporarily calming my anxiety.

For ratings, it was standard practice for romance shows to hype up CPs.

As a C-list actress, Shu Shanshan cherished her reputation—maybe she really had no choice.

In the days that followed, I forced myself not to check the trending topics or comments, throwing myself wholeheartedly into preparing for my new audio show.

Finally, the day came when the romance show finished filming.

I stood by the window, took a drag of my cigarette, and still typed out a text to Shu Shanshan:

“Don’t overwork yourself. Take care of yourself.”

Just then, my agent called, his voice urgent:

“Zhu Heng, it’s bad! Your relationship with Shu Shanshan was exposed tonight!”

My heart skipped a beat, and the ash from my cigarette fell, burning my fingers.

I opened Weibo, and there it was—photos of Shu Shanshan and me kissing, topping the trending list.

The angle was tricky, clearly taken secretly.

The comment section exploded, with insults and sarcasm pouring in:

“I knew there was a reason Shu Shanshan was throwing herself at our Qian Qian—she’s been having a secret affair with someone else! Disgusting!”

“She should take a good look at herself in the mirror. A toad dreaming of eating swan meat!”

“My heart breaks for Gu Qian! How could she do this to him?”

I trembled with anger, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my phone.

Someone was obviously plotting against me behind the scenes.

But it was too late—once the photos were out, no one would believe any denial from either of us.

My mind was in chaos, and I didn’t know what to do.

My agent called again, his tone grave: “Zhu Heng, Shu Shanshan’s team has already issued a statement saying you’re just ordinary friends, and the relationship rumors are completely false…”

“What did you say?!” I stood up abruptly, and my phone crashed to the floor.

Staring at the statement on the screen, Shu Shanshan’s face seemed to mock my stupidity.

Ordinary friends? Completely false?

Ten years of relationship, and all I got was “ordinary friends”?

I suddenly found it hilarious. So in her eyes, I was just a lowly clown, a backup plan she could discard at any time.

My eyes turned red as I stared at the phone screen.

Anger surged in my chest, threatening to consume me.

“Fuck!” I couldn’t help but curse, sweeping the documents off my desk and kicking over the trash can beside it.

Shu Shanshan, you really have some nerve!

At that moment, Director Chen—who’d always been kind to me—sent me a link.

It was a press conference with Shu Shanshan.

“Ms. Shu, there are rumors that you’ve been in a relationship with Zhu Heng for many years. Is this true?”

“Ms. Shu, what do you have to say about the man in the photos?”

I stared at her intently on the screen, a glimmer of hope still lingering in my heart.

Even just an explanation, an apology—anything.

But she just smiled faintly and said calmly:

“The person in the photos is just an ordinary friend of mine. We have no special relationship, and the rumors are completely false. I hope everyone won’t believe them. I’m still single and just want to focus on my career. Thank you for your concern.”

A tear slid down my cheek, hitting the cold floor.

“Ordinary friend…”

I muttered to myself, my heart feeling as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe.

Shu Shanshan, who do you think you are to end things just like that?

Ten years of feelings couldn’t stand up to the temptation of fame and fortune—what the hell am I to you?

After a moment, my phone suddenly rang. It was Director Chen.

I answered, my voice hoarse: “Hello?”

“Zhu Heng, I heard your company plans to have you take a break, citing health reasons.” The man paused.

“How would you like to switch careers and become a director?”