It was you who fooled around with a man in the dressing room!

Ever since He Luo had lost the lead in the ballet to her, she’d been making life difficult for her at the theater. Previously, her worst clashes had been with Xia Anran, but after Xia Anran’s return, He Luo had joined forces with her, both openly and covertly setting traps for Wen Shuang. Wen Shuang was certain that He Luo had played a part in the speed at which these rumors about her had spread.

“He Luo, don’t go slandering me just because you lack the talent. If you want to accuse me, show some proof!” Wen Shuang retorted.

“Proof? What proof do you need? Everyone went to the celebration last night except you. People were looking for you, and when they found you in the cloakroom, they couldn’t get in. Clearly, you were fooling around with some man in there!” He Luo replied coldly.

Wen Shuang had nothing to say in response. Last night, she and Ji Shen had indeed been rather reckless in the cloakroom. When Yao Qianqian had left with Luo Xingwei, she felt relieved, but later, when things got heated, their voices must have been loud enough to be overheard.

“See that look on your face? You know you’re guilty!” He Luo sneered.

Wen Shuang couldn’t be bothered to argue. Let them say what they will; she would just focus on her own dancing.

Thus, the rumor of Wen Shuang having a wealthy backer spread rapidly through the troupe, with everyone whispering behind her back. Every time she entered a room, conversation would abruptly fall silent. Even with her eyes closed, Wen Shuang could guess they were gossiping about her again.

Truth be told, there were several in the company who openly traded favors for money, offering themselves to powerful patrons—secrets that were barely secrets at all. Yet they seized every chance to ridicule Wen Shuang.

At its core, it was nothing but envy.

Luo Xingwei, unable to bear the injustice, tried to defend her a few times, only to be immediately beset by a crowd of sharp-tongued women.

“Luo Xingwei, you’re really being taken for a fool! We all know you like Wen Shuang, but open your eyes. Don’t let her string you along while you count out her money!” they jeered.

Luo Xingwei argued back, “Wen Shuang has never led me on. We’re just colleagues, nothing more!”

“Oh please, everyone in the theater knows how you feel about her. But no matter how much you defend her, it’s useless. She wouldn’t look twice at an ordinary guy like you—she’s aiming for high society!”

Luo Xingwei had a gentle nature; he would never curse at women, much less raise a hand. Every time, he was left flushed and speechless with anger.

Wen Shuang once invited him and Yao Qianqian out for a meal to thank them personally.

“Shuangshuang! There’s no need to thank us. It’s those awful people at the theater who are to blame—they’re just jealous of you!” Yao Qianqian said indignantly.

Luo Xingwei added, “Don’t pay attention to what they say. It doesn’t matter. Just focus on your dancing.”

Wen Shuang gave a calm smile. “Thank you. I know.”

No matter how fierce the rumors became, Wen Shuang remained the top star of the troupe, holding the most ballet roles. The more others criticized her, the more they envied her.

Xia Anran was on medical leave for half a month, and He Luo took advantage of the vacancy. She was given two ballet roles—one of which had originally been promised to Yao Qianqian. But for some reason, the director changed his mind at the last minute and gave both roles to He Luo.

Yao Qianqian was furious. He Luo was thinner than her and not as skilled, so how did she manage to get ahead? She suspected the pharmaceutical tycoon backing He Luo had intervened. What a hypocrite—accusing Wen Shuang of having a patron when she herself was climbing the ladder the same way!

These days, during curtain calls, Wen Shuang couldn’t help but notice—perhaps it was just her imagination—that Xia Hanyan was often in the audience. The man, dressed in a pale blue jacket with a cup of tea in hand, looked gentle and strikingly handsome. Many of the young women in the theater were utterly captivated by him; when word spread that he was in attendance, everyone became as excited as songbirds, dancing and dressing their best to catch his eye.

Wen Shuang found it odd but didn’t dwell on it.

One evening, as she stepped over the theater threshold, she almost stumbled. A strong hand reached out of nowhere, pulling her up lightly.

“Miss Wen, careful!”

It was Xia Hanyan.

Looking down, Wen Shuang saw that, at some point, the threshold had been raised by three layers. Had Xia Hanyan not caught her in time, she would have fallen badly. At best, she’d be nursing a minor injury for a month; at worst, she could have scraped her face and ruined her career.

A woman’s malice knew no bounds.

She thanked Xia Hanyan.

Following her gaze, Xia Hanyan remarked, “It seems your days in the troupe aren’t exactly pleasant, Miss Wen.”

“With so many women, conflict and scheming are inevitable,” Wen Shuang replied, weary but determined. She was willing to endure it all for the sake of dance.

“Miss Wen, you must be careful,” Xia Hanyan said, his eyes lingering on her delicate features. “Last time, Anran was set up by someone. Now she’s suffering from relentless diarrhea and will be bedridden for two weeks.”

Sensing his probing gaze, Wen Shuang wondered if Xia Hanyan was here to settle accounts for his sister.

“Xia Anran has always acted with impunity in the troupe. Frankly, she brought it on herself,” Wen Shuang replied, her tone cold.

Xia Anran had tried to harm her more times than she could count. The last time Wen Shuang retaliated, she had simply reached her limit.

Xia Hanyan let go of her arm and, surprisingly, did not argue. “Anran has been spoiled by our family since childhood—her temperament is indeed willful. Perhaps this hospital stay will teach her a lesson.”

“That would be for the best.”

Wen Shuang thanked him again and prepared to leave. She had no fondness for Xia Anran and even less desire to get involved with her brother, although, for now, Xia Hanyan seemed like a reasonable man.

“Wait, Miss Wen. I’ve always had a question I was curious about and would like to ask you in person today,” Xia Hanyan called out.

“Go ahead,” Wen Shuang replied.

She wore a light purple leotard that accentuated her slender waist and graceful figure.

“Were you and Qin You ever together?”

Xia Hanyan had noticed Wen Shuang’s intense attitude toward Qin You, and Xia Anran herself seemed wary of Wen Shuang’s presence. And Qin You… he, too, seemed unable to forget her.

Wen Shuang hadn’t expected this question. She admitted, “Yes, we were, for a time. But now, all I feel for Qin You is disgust, nothing else. Please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Xia.”

“Disgust? Forgive me, but may I ask why?” Xia Hanyan was surprised.

“It’s nothing—just the past,” Wen Shuang replied, wise enough not to speak ill of his sister in front of him. “Let’s just say, as long as he stays away from me, I’ll consider myself lucky. Mr. Xia, perhaps you could ask your sister to keep a closer eye on her fiancé, so he doesn’t go biting others and hurting the innocent.”

Qin You had once nearly destroyed her family. The scorn in Wen Shuang’s eyes was unmistakable.

Xia Hanyan frowned.

Wen Shuang turned and walked away, her silhouette slender and elegant, a faint scent of roses lingering in the breeze behind her.