Three Parts Attachment

March. The season of renewal—lush grass, singing warblers, sunlight spilling over the world. Yet not a single ray of that warmth reached the top floor of Chengfeng Entertainment. In the CEO’s office, Lu Yuan glared at his computer screen, where bold headlines screamed: "Washed-Up Starlet Caught in Late-Night Brawl—What’s the Real Story?" Beneath it, a flood of vicious comments: "Who even is this D-list attention-seeker?" "Another nobody trying to stay relevant." Lu Yuan’s jaw tightened. "Didn’t I explicitly order her to lie low and avoid scandals?" As Chengfeng’s CEO, Lu Yuan rarely showed emotion. But those who knew him recognized the storm in his silence. Standing before him was Lu Chen, a well-connected agent in the industry—and currently, the only person daring enough to weather Lu Yuan’s fury. Not that Lu Chen could argue. The subject of Lu Yuan’s rage was none other than Shen Zhi, the troublemaker he’d personally groomed since her debut. "Don’t tell me she’s desperate for a comeback," Lu Yuan snapped. After last month’s disaster, her reputation was in the gutter. "Half the internet doesn’t even remember her name!" He massaged his temples. "Pass this along: One more stunt, and she’s done in this industry." The unspoken threat hung in the air: If she weren’t the Shen family’s daughter, I’d have cut her loose already. Lu Chen nodded. Then, with calculated calm, he added, "But there might be a way out." "Oh?" Lu Yuan’s gaze sharpened. "An Qing just backed out of Winds of Change. The slot’s empty." A slow smirk curled Lu Yuan’s lips. "You’re suggesting we send Shen Zhi?" "She’d be a better fit than An Qing ever was." "And if it revives her career?" "The real question is—how do we convince her?" Lu Yuan tapped the show’s proposal. The premise was brutal: a celebrity "survival" experience in the deserts of northwest China. For a spoiled heiress like Shen Zhi, it might as well be hell. Yet Lu Chen only smiled. "Leave that to me." As he turned to leave, Lu Yuan called after him, "You’ve always been soft on her." Lu Chen paused. "She’s my responsibility." Shen Zhi’s Side The moment Lu Chen stepped out, he nearly collided with Shen Zhi herself. Dressed in a sunflower-yellow dress, she stood like a misplaced ray of sunlight in the sterile hallway. Say what you would about Shen Zhi—her beauty was undeniable. Even in an industry overflowing with flawless faces, she stood out. But her sharp, striking features clashed with the current trend of delicate "innocent flower" actresses. Worse, last month’s feud with a rival star—whose ex-boyfriend had pursued Shen Zhi—left her branded a homewrecker. No amount of denials helped. Now, arms crossed, she demanded, "Well?" Lu Chen sighed. "He’s furious, obviously." Shen Zhi’s shoulders drooped—just slightly—before she caught herself. "I was lying low," she muttered. "But some fans recognized me and started screaming about me ‘stealing men.’ What was I supposed to do? Take it?" Lu Chen pinched the bridge of his nose. Never change, Shen Zhi. Then, he dropped the bait. "Lu Yuan’s offering you a show." Her eyes lit up. Exposure. Finally. Before she could agree, Lu Chen forwarded the details to her phone. "Read this first. But fair warning—it might be your last shot." The Offer: Winds of Change Back in her apartment, Shen Zhi skimmed the brief and nearly threw her phone. A desert conservation reality show? Planting trees in the northwest? She tossed the phone aside and collapsed onto her bed. When Lu Chen called hours later, her answer was immediate: "I’m not going." "It’s one month. "Maybe less." His voice softened. "I can’t promise a comeback, but with the right spin, this could change everything." Silence. Then— "Fine. I’ll do it." The Journey Begins That night, Shen Zhi boarded a train for the first time in her life. No private cars. No assistants. Just cramped seats, stale air, and the unsettling weight of strangers’ stares. Eight hours later, at a desolate station under a fading moon, disaster struck: Her luggage vanished (two Rimowa suitcases—poof). No signal. No ride. And worst of all— A hulking stranger loomed over her. "Need help, little girl?" Shen Zhi recoiled. "Don’t touch me!" When he grabbed her arm, she ran. Blindly, through unfamiliar streets, until her heels snapped, and her knees scraped raw. She stumbled into a barren field, utterly lost. Tears streamed down her face as her phone died. Then— A voice, deep and familiar, cut through the wind: "Shen Zhi?" She froze. Slowly, she turned—and there he was. An Shu. Her ex-boyfriend. The man she’d sworn to make regretted leaving her. And here she was: disheveled, tear-streaked, and utterly humiliated.