Meiling POV
I stared at his back as he made his way towards the PR department, his broad shoulders raised high and his body clothed in expensive jeans and a bomber jacket; I have to admit to myself that he is damned good-looking.
But who does he think he is? Does being rich and famous give him the right to look down on people? He is such an asshole; I wonder if his fan knows this.
To imagine that I actually told Weiqing that he was nice, how ironic, an example of a green snake hiding under green grass, except he is not hiding anymore.
I remember him lecturing the set director about learning how to speak politely to people; I can't help but scoff; did he think he knew how to speak to people, too?
"Wear rags?" New hairstyle?" Seriously, is that the way all celebrities behave?
I didn't realize I was clenching my hand until my fingernails bit into the soft flesh of my palm; I unclenched my hand and let out a long breath, slowly inhaling and promising myself that I would teach him a lesson later.
"Don't mind him, that's the way he talks, but he doesn't mean to be rude; if you get close to him, you will realize he is a good person," Mrs. Lee said, and I had to stop myself from scoffing, as I rolled my eyes inwardly.
Michael, Nice? A complete oxymoron
"But he is right, you need official clothing, not that anything is wrong with your clothing, it is simple and nice but you need something elegant and official," the woman said and I felt like kissing her, if only Michael had the sense to phrase it that way, but if he did not act rude, he wouldn't pass his message along.
I nodded my head to the woman's questioning eyes, I was ready for this
"Let's get to work then," she said excitedly.
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A FEW HOURS LATER.
I looked at myself in the mirror; with the new hair, the makeup, and the dress, I looked like an entirely different person.
I can't believe I am the one standing before the mirror; I look new and Improved with my new look and the orange mini gown clothed on my body; I look different, a good different.
I walked out of the dressing room to go show my outfit to Mrs Lee; I hope she approves.
This is the last of the clothes. I have been dressed up in all kinds of outfits today; a lot of adjustments have been made, and Mrs Lee disapproved of some clothes.
Dresses, evening wear, jeans, tops, more than enough clothing that I never imagined I would be able to afford in a lifetime, I have worn all of them, and it was a wonderful and exhilarating experience.
I feel so good going in and out of the dressing room and showing off to Mrs Lee, almost like a model; no wonder rich women do shopping to relieve stress.
"You look beautiful all dressed up, I am sure Michael will be glad to see you looking like this" Ms Lee said and I scoffed,
"Michael? Glad?, to see me dressed up," I thought to myself.
He will just look at me and sniff the air, then ask what smells like a dead rat, but I keep my opinion to myself; I can't wait to report to Weiqing.
"The driver is outside; he will take you to Mike's place; you should go now; you don't want to keep Michael waiting," she said, and I moved out of the dressing area, leading her goodbye.
I exited the mall and saw the driver waiting beside the car outside; he helped me with the clothes and opened the door for me. I got in, and he sped down the city of Beijing.
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FEW MINUTES LATER
I stood in front of the high-rise building, straining my eyes to see the top, "Michael resides somewhere in this building?" I asked myself; he is a fucking twenty-five-year-old guy.
I shook my head in wonderment; I had never entered such a building in all the twenty-two years of my existence.
The driver accompanied me towards the entrance, where securities are stationed everywhere; I only see this kind of thing in movies; I guess I thought it only existed in Hollywood.
The driver explained who I was to the guy who seemed to be the head of security, and he led me inside, helping me with my luggage while the driver departed, heading back to the company.
I can't look at the security guy's face; his face is like stone. I wonder if he ever smiles, but it doesn't matter as I don't have business with him, yet I can't help but notice.
We entered the elevator, and he punched in some numbers, and the elevator started moving upward; after a while, it stopped, and he escorted me toward a door; music was filtering out of the room, and Michael was probably playing instruments or practicing.
He pressed the doorbell, and he turned to leave, leaving me to my luck; I almost called him back, but I stopped myself; I couldn't believe I was scared of Michael.
The door opened and a very angry and irritated Michael stood before me.
"You know I hate disturbance when I am working, why the fuck do you have to........" His words died when he raised his head and looked at my face. He stared at me for a moment before recognition settled on his face then, and something I believe was surprise.
"He was surprised to see me dress up or is it my imagination?" I thought to myself.
"Do you always have to choose such a depressing color," he asked with a snicker, ruining my self-esteem, as his eyes roamed my body with derision.
"You wouldn't know what brightness i
s even if it walks up to you and bites you in the face," I retorted angrily.