When Zoe first joined the company, everyone called her "Little Wei."
The reason was simple—she bore a striking resemblance to Wei Ruxue in her younger years. Her stunning looks were why the company signed her in the first place.
Initially, the plan was to debut Zoe under the moniker "Little Wei," riding on Wei's fame. But for reasons unknown, the idea was abruptly shelved.
Back then, there was even a fight among agents to sign her, though the enthusiasm gradually faded, leaving only Lan unwavering in her support.
At the time, Zoe was just a fresh-faced rookie with no connections or insider knowledge. It wasn't until much later that she learned the truth: her career trajectory—both her signing and subsequent sidelining—was all because of Wei Ruxue.
At the height of her career, Wei saw the emergence of a "Little Wei" as a direct threat. Her firm opposition led the company to abandon the plan and put Zoe's development on hold.
But Wei's suppression didn't stop there. Any major productions the company initiated or other key resources were out of Zoe's reach. With such a powerhouse blocking her path, even straightforward opportunities became nearly impossible to grasp.
Just like Spring Frost.
A production of such magnitude, yet Zoe hadn't even heard whispers of it. That's because Wei, the lead actress, wouldn't tolerate the presence of a "Little Wei" on her set.
Lan never wanted to burden Zoe with these frustrations, but Zoe could piece it together on her own.
"If this continues, I might as well switch agencies," Zoe said, almost out of spite.
Lan's heart ached at those words.
Compared to most newcomers, Zoe was a dream to work with—smart, rational, and never temperamental. She wasn't vain or dismissive of advice. That she was this upset spoke volumes about her frustration.
"Zoe, with your image, sweet romance dramas actually suit you well. If done right, many actresses have found fame through them," Lan tried to console her, though her voice lacked conviction.
Because everyone knew—one major hit like Spring Frost was worth ten sweet romance dramas. No sweet romance could ever become a classic; they were just disposable entertainment in the market.
"Lan, if there's no other option, just accept it," Zoe finally relented.
Her tone betrayed her resignation. She lacked the leverage or connections to demand more. Securing a female lead role at her stage was already considered a head start. She just couldn't help but feel bitter about the better opportunities slipping through her fingers.
Lan sighed deeply.
This feeling of helplessness weighed heavily on both of them, but the work couldn't stop.
"Lan, didn't you mention many scripts have been sent my way? Help me pick the best ones. If all else fails, I'll take the Yuehai TV rom-com. It's not a bad choice," Zoe said, forcing a smile. "You're right—if I'm acting in a rom-com, I'll give it my best."
She continued, "Didn't Yin Zishi also offer a few scripts last time? Let's accept any worthwhile ones. My schedule is open. Coordinate whatever you can. I'll take whatever I can shoot."
If she couldn't star in a masterpiece, she'd settle for becoming a workhorse.
Success didn't have just one path. If one road was blocked, she'd forge another.