Disguise

After choosing an office, Ye Mian poured most of her money into renovations, not forgetting to register the company while the work was underway.

She re-signed contracts with Zhou Yan and the other girls, and finally began to turn a profit.

Secretly, she added a few subtle product placements into the scripts.

At that time, the general public was not yet sensitive to advertisements.

The girls merely mentioned a few useful products in passing during the videos, and the ad money flowed in.

Of course, Ye Mian was strict about the products—they would never endorse anything just to fill the renovation gap. Their fanbase was solid, and with sales came commissions.

This was the beginning of making real money.

Zhou Yan was the most enthusiastic. Her family lived in a nearby town, and she had always thought she would graduate, find a job, live a stable life, and perhaps marry a decent man.

But for the first time, she realized she could choose a different path, maybe even reach greater heights.

For instance, after receiving her salary, she no longer had to squeeze into the dormitory.

Zhou Yan was socially anxious; she didn’t need to face people in the videos, but living in the crowded dorm still made her uncomfortable.

Ye Mian paid a generous wage. As soon as Zhou Yan received it, she applied to the school for permission, rented an apartment, and moved out the very next day.

Another girl, Tian Mi, had a lovely name but a fierce look. During the winter break, Ye Mian enrolled her in a makeup class. After just a few lessons, Tian Mi started making transformation videos.

Ye Mian had already planned her future—Tian Mi would develop as a beauty influencer.

This was a consistently popular field.

As for the third girl, Ye Mian was training her specifically for livestreaming. Her looks were average, but she had a striking temperament and genuine warmth.

With the studio set up and each girl’s career path charted out, Ye Mian only had to wait for the renovations to finish, save enough funds, and hire the operations, videography, and HR staff.

A basic media studio would be established.

The internet evolved rapidly, but she never rushed blindly. Instead, she seized every trending opportunity with steady hands, and all three girls became popular.

Unlike the fading fame of the first generation of internet celebrities, this massive wave pushed them quickly into the spotlight.

Watching the daily surge in account numbers, Ye Mian couldn’t stop smiling.

Fame was a good thing.

With popularity, everyone could live well, and she no longer had to worry about money.

She kept the two-bedroom apartment she’d rented for New Year’s; sometimes she stayed at school, sometimes there.

The university’s dorm checks were lax. As long as she informed her instructor about occasionally staying at home, it was allowed.

Time slipped quickly into the next summer.

The weather in Wen City was extreme—a long, harsh winter and a dry, scorching summer, with cicadas chirping incessantly from lush trees.

Ye Mian’s studio was running smoothly. Since it was a media company, she didn’t need to be there constantly overseeing the staff.

Everything spoke through data.

She had grown a lot that year, thanks to attending business management classes every day. Even when exhausted, she never stopped learning from various industries.

Adjusting according to her own situation, she managed the company atmosphere and staff efficiency with a deft touch.

If one gives up on oneself, natural talent will be taken away.

She truly benefited from her second chance at life, coupled with her own diligence.

The livestreaming boom was still a year away.

When that time came, some well-connected media companies would swoop in to seize a share, and some small pioneering studios would die off.

She needed to ensure her studio enjoyed the profits and survived the coming storm.

That would depend on her anchors.

So she treated her core livestreamers very well.

During the summer break, Ye Mian took some time to return to Jiang City.

Ye Haisheng had retired back in April.

When Ye Mian arrived home with her suitcase, the smile lines on Ye Haisheng’s face seemed about to burst.

No sooner had she sat down than he began planning a dinner out.

“Come on, Mian Mian, let’s go out for a nice meal tonight.”

Ye Mian was puzzled. After drinking a glass of water, she asked, “Dad, why are we eating out?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Ye Haisheng slapped his forehead. “Your uncle is back with his family. They have nowhere to stay, so I let them borrow our other apartment.”

Ye Mian frowned slightly. She knew her father had an elder brother, but she’d never met him—he was said to have settled abroad.

In her previous life, she didn’t recall any such house-lending incident.

But soon she understood.

In her previous life, the developer they’d bought from went bankrupt, and the house never materialized—so how could anyone have stayed there?

With relatives visiting, it would be wrong not to at least see them. She nodded, “Alright, let’s eat out tonight.”

After all, her father’s own brother couldn’t be that bad.

Back in her room, Ye Mian took a short nap. When she woke, it was already past one in the afternoon.

Outside the window, two plump little birds perched atop the electrical box, preening each other.

Ye Mian was delighted. She tiptoed over, her eyes curving into a smile.

The birds cocked their heads to look at her, their round black-bead eyes blinking. With a few chirps, they flew off.

Her gaze fell on the desk drawer. She opened it, revealing many keepsakes.

Most prominent was a dried camellia blossom, and a handwritten study notebook.

Warm air swept in through the cracks. Ye Mian picked up the notebook and flipped to a page.

The handwriting was clear and elegant, still carrying a faint scent of ink and paper.

In that instant,

Memories of that summer surged before her eyes.

Her heart fluttered for no reason.

Her breathing slowed.

She looked up—the courtyard outside her window was gone.

The struggling boy of her memories had long left hardship behind.

Thinking of this, she turned the pages, picturing the quiet youth writing in this notebook.

Then she noticed something unusual—something she’d missed in her previous life, blinded by the rush of studying.

The entire notebook was written with a single type of ink, as if the refill had never changed, and every page was pristine.

It didn’t look like something accumulated over a long period.

There wasn’t a single crease.

The only blemish was one she’d accidentally made herself.

No matter how careful she was, she’d still managed to stain it.

Moreover, as she examined the notebook, she noticed none of the messy handwriting, personal habits, or corrections typical of studying for oneself.

Instead, it was meticulously annotated and explained, more like a notebook prepared for teaching.

The emotions she’d tried to suppress suddenly surged again.

Holding the notebook to her chest, Ye Mian couldn’t stop the doubts fermenting in her heart.

It was as if she’d traveled back to that summer and witnessed the boy writing this very notebook.

There was no flawless disguise.

When sunlight shines, even the smallest flaw is revealed.

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