Chapter 1: The Invisible Shadow

Before the Li Ding Media building, media personnel poised for action swarmed at the company entrance like sharks sensing blood in the water. Though autumn had arrived, their sweat soaked through their clothes a discomfort they seemed oblivious to as their eyes remained fixed on the main entrance.

“She’s out! Look, Miss Li Xin is coming out!”

“Don’t push, I was here first!”

The reporters surged forward like madmen, scrambling up the steps without regard for their safety. Even the most image-conscious ladies among them rolled up their sleeves and raised their microphones overhead. Security guards tasked with maintaining order were jostled so fiercely their caps nearly fell off, yet they could only watch helplessly, turning back to gaze at the approaching woman with admiration and reverence.

A woman in a white gown descended the steps one by one. Though past thirty, time seemed to have left no trace on her faces she remained breathtakingly elegant and noble. Her cool, profound eyes tilted upward at the corners, carrying an indescribable allure.

Standing behind her was a timid girl in a blue dress, her apple-shaped face possessing a unique charm that, while not conventionally stunning, held its own appeal. Yet in the shadow of the woman before her, her presence was utterly overshadowed.

Those familiar with Li Xin would recognize her identity: Wen Nuo, Li Xin’s assistant. For five years, since the book signing of Li Xin’s debut novel *The Flourishing World*, this young woman had remained by her side.

The woman in white was Li Xin.

She had burst into the literary scene five years earlier, her first book taking the world by storm and claiming the annual sales crown. Since then, every book Li Xin penned became an object of public veneration, reprinted numerous times and translated into multiple languages for global distribution. This year, her work *Digging the City* earned her a nomination for the Nobel Prize in Literature.

This was Li Xin a writer who rose to fame with three books, scaling ever greater heights to become the most influential contemporary author in China.

As Li Xin emerged, the crowd’s voices surged like tidal waves, each crest louder than the last. With a faint smile gracing her lips, Li Xin casually accepted a microphone held out to her.

Today was supposed to mark the announcement of her new book’s theme.

Wen Nuo’s lips curved into a timid smile as she watched Li Xin’s movements, tilting her face upward in anticipation of her words. Yet in the next instant, her complexion drained of all color.

For Li Xin bent toward the cameras and declared:

“I apologize. From today onward, I will cease writing.”

This was a nationwide live broadcast. Li Xin lifted her head, her smile unwavering, while all viewers stared in stunned disbelief.

In shopping malls across the country, screens showed Li Xin bowing in apology, freezing every passerby in their tracks.

A sales clutch holding a hanger to hand to a customer stood motionless, while the customer remained equally transfixed.

*Clang! * A coin fell to the floor and a cashier glanced at the screen but didn’t react.

In that moment, time across China seemed to halt, everyone suspended in stillness.

Then, as if doused by boiling water, the mall erupted. A sudden heat dispelled autumn’s chill, and this fervor began spreading throughout the nation.

A world-class writer no, a literary master, had announced her retirement just before the award ceremony.

Many people began to sob quietly, while others muttered to themselves like fools—none were willing to accept such news.

At the scene,
Wen Nuo’s eyes widened as if she had been slapped hard across the face. Her complexion shifted from pale to flushed, unable to believe her ears.

Yet at this moment, no one would notice Wen Nuo’s distress. Every journalist was eager to thrust their microphones toward Li Xin’s lips, demanding she give a clear explanation to the nation, and even the world.

Li Xin, however, glanced at Wen Nuo before letting out a soft sigh, a smile gracing her lips.

“I know this decision may be hard for many to accept, but a person’s life is filled with many stories and much brilliance. Being a writer was merely one chapter of my past. Although I will cease writing from now on, I will join the cast of Lideng Media’s new film *The Last Dawn* as the female lead, embarking on a new story.”

The woman pressed her lips into a faint smile, returned the microphone to the reporter, and then gathered her skirt to leave.

Wen Nuo trailed behind Li Xin, stumbling unsteadily, her mind in turmoil, yet no one paid her any attention.

Cease writing? Become an actress?

This decision left everyone astonished. In their eyes, Li Xin was just one step away from the Nobel Prize in Literature, with at least a ninety percent chance of winning it. Why would she abandon it so lightly?

Regardless, with Li Xin’s involvement, *The Last Dawn* was bound to skyrocket to the top of trending topics in no time. Shaken by the news of Li Xin abandoning writing for acting, a box office frenzy was all but guaranteed, regardless of the film’s actual quality.

Was it a publicity stunt, or had she truly given up writing for good? Everyone awaited an answer.

Yet the answer might be one they could not accept.

In the opulent villa, the brilliance of the crystal chandelier stung the eyes. Wen Nuo, tears welling in her eyes, stared at Li Xin in disbelief.

“Why? Why cease writing? I still have so many ideas, so much… left unfinished.”

Li Xin reclined against the milky-white wool cushion, swirling a glass of red wine in her hand. The liquid inside shimmered like supple, swirling jelly, casting dazzling reflections.

“Fool, don’t you understand? I no longer need you.” Raising an eyebrow, Li Xin showed not a trace of her former grace, her face filled with impatience.

“Why…”

“Hah?” Li Xin hurled a folder from the table at the young woman. Unable to dodge in time, Wen Nuo was struck on the temple, leaving a bruise.

“I’ve already won the Nobel Prize in Literature. There’s no need to go further. Because of you, I couldn’t give interviews, hiding like a rat. After all, none of those words were mine—who could understand your obscure nonsense! But things are different now. I can freely appear under the spotlight; every lens will marvel at my beauty.”

Touching her smooth, porcelain-like skin despite being in her thirties, Li Xin’s smile grew increasingly smug. “Wen Nuo, as for you a useless creature who only knows how to write you’re no longer of any use.”

Wen Nuo bit her lower lip; her usually shy face now marked with indignation for the first time.

Five years ago, with her family critically ill, she had submitted the novels she wrote everywhere. Yet, having no prior experience in writing, not a single editor was willing to even glance at her manuscripts.

It was then that Li Xin had appeared.

She was willing to help Wen Nuo cover all medical expenses, but in return, she signed an agreement stating that all texts written by Wen Nuo over the next ten years would belong to Li Xin.

Yes, she was a ghostwriter. The difference was the person she served possessed not a single literary cell. Because of this, Li Xin dared not participate in any interviews and remained tight-lipped even during book signings. Meanwhile, Wen Nuo followed Li Xin around as an assistant, she was merely an invisible shadow.

But Li Xin was not satisfied. The fame she desired wasn’t this kind of hidden, behind-the-scenes recognition. She wanted to showcase her beauty and figure under spotlights, on stages, and in front of cameras.

Having already won the highest honor, the Nobel Prize in Literature Wen Nuo was no longer a steppingstone to fame for Li Xin, but a burden, a worthless liability! This girl’s existence made Li Xin feel constantly threatened. She feared the truth would be exposed and her real face revealed.

“I understand,” Wen Nuo clutched the folder containing documents about the Nobel laureate tightly before turning to leave, knowing there was no room for negotiation. Why? Even if she was content being just a shadow, was that wrong?

“Are you going to the hospital?”

Wen Nuo’s mother remained in a coma, sustained only by life support tubes. Whenever Wen Nuo encountered writer’s block, she would visit the hospital to talk to her mother, stubbornly believing she could still hear.

But Li Xin’s words seemed to carry unusual implications.

“Miss Li, what do you mean by that?”

Li Xin took a sip of wine from her glass, her red lips blood-like as she revealed a cruel smile.

“She’s already dead.”

How could a vegetative patient survive after having their tubes removed?

“Li Xin, you!” Wen Nuo’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Heh, of course, you’ll be joining her soon.”

A sharp pain shot through the back of her head. The world spun before Wen Nuo’s eyes as she gradually sank into darkness, only able to hear that faint, indifferent voice:

“Make it look like a car accident. Leave no traces.”

“Yes.”

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