When Zoe returned to her room, she slipped off her headphones, peeled off her clothes, and went for a hot shower. The steam washed away her exhaustion, leaving her feeling light and refreshed. She stepped out, eager to collapse on the bed and scroll through her phone.
But her phone screen lit up with an unexpected message from Song.
Ten minutes earlier, he'd texted, "Why didn't you post the tweet?"
Zoe chuckled, amused at how blunt he was. She replied, "I was waiting for you to post it."
"You really don't let yourself lose, do you?" he shot back, a cryptic note in his words. Little did she know he'd witnessed her hallway showdown with Yan.
Zoe grinned, typing, "Of course not. I'm a girl, not a guy."
Song paused, replying with a simple, "..."
Only after she sent it did she realize her message sounded a bit too playful—almost flirtatious. They weren't that close; they'd only exchanged numbers earlier that day. But Song's casual tone made him feel surprisingly down-to-earth, unpretentious despite his superstar status. Just then, another message from him appeared.
"What time's your filming tomorrow?"
"Not sure," Zoe replied. "They haven't given a schedule."
"Be careful," Song warned. "No set time means they might try to 'catch you off guard' in the morning for that 'natural' look. Don't want them filming you half-asleep."
"Not a problem," Zoe responded confidently. "I look good even without makeup."
"Who told you that?" he asked.
"Men's eyes."
"..."
"You're nothing like your public image," Song commented dryly.
"So? Neither are you," she shot back. "It's mutual."
"Oh, I don't have your level of confidence."
"Can't help it—my beauty won't let me feel insecure."
"Enough," he replied. "I'm tempted to screenshot this chat and post it on social media so everyone can see the real you."
"Go ahead," Zoe challenged.
"So bold?"
"Imagine the backlash—exposing your goofy side while trying to roast me would backfire on you too."
"Who's the goof here?"
"Anyway, I'm off to bed."
"Explain yourself!" Song demanded, a series of exclamation marks following.
"Goodnight, Song. Sweet dreams, superstar."
"Don't ignore me!"
"Hello?"
"Zoe!"
In his hotel room, Song clenched his fists, annoyed. "Ugh, this girl is driving me crazy!" He practically jumped out of his chair, seething.
Right then, his manager, Luo, and his assistant entered, only to freeze at the sight of Song looking unusually worked up.
Luo raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"
Song quickly composed himself, reverting to his usual calm demeanor. "What's up?"
"The photographer sent tomorrow's shot list. Should we go over it now?" Luo asked.
"You handle it."
"Last time you said that, you weren't happy when we got to the shoot," Luo reminded him.
"Fine, leave it here. I'll look at it in a minute."
"They're waiting on your feedback—it's getting late."
Song's tone softened, though a flicker of irritation lingered. "I'll get to it. Just leave it."
Luo sighed, relenting. "Alright."
Suddenly, Song remembered something. "Oh, by the way, cancel those hired trolls going after Zoe."
Luo looked stunned. "Why? She's been leeching off your fame. If we don't at least warn her, she'll keep doing it."
"I said cancel them," Song replied, voice cold.