After Losing My Memory, I Marked My Cold White Moonlight - Chapter 2

One Year Later — A Reality Show Training Base

“Luo Ning, move aside a bit. Go further over there. Don’t block others. Move! You’re just standing there like a piece of wood…” The on-site director tilted his chin up, lazily gesturing to the side with his script in hand, his eyes brimming with the arrogance of a petty man who had finally gotten his way.

Who would have thought that the top-tier celebrity he couldn’t even approach a year ago was now being ordered around like a dog? Luo Ning had been assigned to his group as a supporting performer. He distinctly remembered that Luo Ning was supposed to be a guest performer—how had she suddenly ended up as a supporting act alongside these third-rate stars?

Was it really a case of fortunes changing, where a fallen star was worse off than a chicken?

The on-site director narrowed his eyes. Whoever was behind this, he was sure they shared his desire—to see that haughty face twist in humiliation. He imagined Luo Ning, a top-tier alpha, groveling before him, obeying his every command, and his nostrils flared with excitement.

Luo Ning nodded mechanically at his words, her dull expression making her stunning features seem almost lifeless. She slowly stood up and silently stepped out of the group photo area, moving to the side.

Seeing that Luo Ning didn’t dare resist, the on-site director grew even bolder, eager to flaunt his authority in front of everyone.

He raised his voice even louder. “Who told you to leave the photo area? I said move to the side! Can’t you understand human speech?”

The obese man waved his script in displeasure, the thin pages flapping noisily. “And what’s with your styling? You’re the only one being special, covering half your face. What kind of nonsense is this?”

As if he couldn’t stand it any longer, the director stood up and charged toward Luo Ning.

Among the other performers nearby, some frowned in disapproval but were held back by others, while some watched with malicious glee as the director humiliated Luo Ning. Others simply pretended not to see.

The script in the director’s hand brushed past Luo Ning’s right cheek, which was hidden behind her hair. She frowned and leaned back, but her hair was still pushed aside, revealing her right eye—covered by an eyepatch.

“What are you doing? Don’t touch her!” A sharp female voice rang out from behind. Luo Ning’s current manager, Keke, rushed forward and shielded her.

Though the on-site director had some minor authority, he was still just an employee. If this escalated, he’d be the one left embarrassed. How was he supposed to know that Luo Ning’s injuries from the car accident a year ago still hadn’t healed? That the accident had disfigured her?

Luo Ning lowered her gaze to look at the obese man, a flicker of imperceptible impatience flashing in her eyes. She touched the clasp at the back of her head—the eyepatch was still securely in place.

“Luo Ning was invited by the head director to save this shoot. Who are you to exclude her from the group photo? I’m calling the head director right now,” Keke snarled, glaring at the on-site director.

“Oh-ho, a top-tier star is still a top-tier star—even the assistant dares to shout at me. Did I say she couldn’t be in the photo? It’s just that not everyone’s here yet. I thought someone of Luo Ning’s status wouldn’t deign to take photos with those beneath her, so I asked her to wait on the side. Seems like you misunderstood me.” The on-site director rubbed his greasy nose and spoke in an oily voice.

The words were dripping with sarcasm and mockery, deliberately provoking Luo Ning to offend every artist present. What did they mean by saying their status wasn’t as high as Luo Ning’s? How dare a washed-up top star even mention status?

“You!” Keke bristled like a mother hen protecting her chicks, her eyebrows shooting up as she prepared to peck back.

“I’m tired. Let’s go.” Luo Ning covered her right eye, her posture rigidly straight. Her stunningly beautiful features now appeared stiff and lifeless, evoking a sense of tragic waste—gorgeous yet hollow, nothing more than an empty shell of beauty. How dull!

As Luo Ning turned to leave, Keke had no choice but to follow. The on-site director smirked insincerely, deliberately lowering his voice just enough to still be heard: “Who does she think she’s fooling? A criminal like her might not even be allowed on screen anymore, yet she acts like it’s still her glory days.”

Keke turned back, itching to retort, but Luo Ning grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

“They should be thanking you! You’re only here because the original artist got canceled for scandal, and now they gang up to bully you? Unbelievable! I’m calling the producer and director right now.” Keke grew angrier with each step, stomping her feet.

“It’s just work. No need to get upset.” Luo Ning remained detached. After the car accident, she’d lost her memory—these people meant nothing to her now.

That horrific crash a year ago had killed her manager and assistant instantly. The driver remained comatose. Only Luo Ning survived after months in ICU, paying with her memories and a bl00d-clogged right eye that might never see again.

When she awoke, no family warmth greeted her—just a cold father, and a mother who’d worn stilettos and full makeup to visit her nearly-dead daughter. An elder half-sister sent a secretary instead, delivering an enormous check with the message: “You made your bed.”

Her phone held no family messages. They’d never been close.

Perhaps in her rush to fame, she’d signed chaotic contracts with multiple agencies. The crash left her drowning in endorsement penalties and breached contracts.

The agencies bickered overcompensation and insurance claims. With two staff dead and one critically injured, plus massive civil liabilities, the companies fell silent in unison. That’s when Keke got assigned.

Normally, an artist of Luo Ning’s caliber would never go to a rookie liKekeke. But with rumors of disfigurement and legal troubles, no one wanted the tainted case—until it landed on Keke, who lacked connections to refuse.

Keke had planned to treat it as nursing duty, lasting three months before transferring. But Luo Ning’s plight stirred genuine compassion, making Keke fight for her properly.

“Who knows when they’ll catch that hit-and-run driver,” Keke sighed. “Until they do, the rumors about you won’t stop.”

Luo Ning was at the peak of her fame back then. Even though the news of her car accident was immediately suppressed, various versions of rumors still spread. While Luo Ning recuperated in the hospital, she also disappeared from the public eye due to memory loss caused by severe brain trauma.

Those who couldn’t wait to see her fall from her top-tier status fabricated all kinds of malicious gossip.

They claimed the truth behind Luo Ning’s accident was drunk driving, that she had endangered her own staff, and was already under criminal investigation, facing sentencing. At first, few believed this smear campaign. But as time passed, with no statement from Luo Ning nor any sign of her reappearance, more people began to buy into it.

Online, people labeled Luo Ning a “legal liability,” accusing her of reckless behavior that caused two deaths and one injury, insisting she should be behind bars.

But Keke knew the truth—when several parties had refused to cover the funeral expenses and compensation, it was Luo Ning, barely recovered from her severe injuries, who dragged her still-healing body to pay the families of the two deceased. Even now, she was still covering the medical bills for the driver who remained in a coma.

And that day, Luo Ning hadn’t even been the one driving. Yet, for some reason, the police refused to release the footage, claiming it would interfere with the investigation. The absurd part? Nearly a year had passed, and they still hadn’t found a trace of the actual culprit.

But then again, in an era where entertainment reigned supreme and public trust in government institutions had eroded to nothing, believing the police would solve the case was about as likely as believing pigs could fly.

Keke wanted to use Luo Ning’s account to issue a statement clarifying the situation or send legal warnings to the rumormongers, only to be told that Luo Ning’s personal accounts were under the control of Pan-Asia Entertainment.

The more Keke thought about it, the more suffocated she felt. Not only had Luo Ning been denied work assignments long after her recovery, but even her Weibo account was being withheld—and now they were forcing her into a dating show.

Frowning, Keke said, “Maybe I can pull some strings. Let’s skip this show.”

But the problem was, Keke was from Starlight Entertainment, and her influence was limited. Luo Ning’s external contracts were all managed by Pan-Asia Entertainment.

If it were just an ordinary dating show, fine. But this one was anything but conventional.

The show was called Love Like a Movie. Despite the romantic name, the reality was far from it. Romance seemed like an afterthought—the real focus was acting out movie scenes based on cue cards. The guests had to follow scripted segments for their dates, with some even encountering kiss scenes or even implied bedroom scenarios on their first meeting.

The production team was infamous for its ruthlessness. Just as emotions between guests began to warm up, they’d throw in scripts involving affairs, divorces, and other dramatic twists, dominating the year’s most sensational headlines. At the same time, performers with poor acting skills were publicly crucified on the show—countless rising stars had floundered here, their cringe-worthy performances enough to make viewers dig out a three-bedroom apartment in secondhand embarrassment.

Yet, despite being more awkward than sweet and leaving many participants with a trail of black marks on their reputations, this dating show had exploded in popularity, standing out among its peers by churning out endless memes and soap-opera-worthy drama.

In fact, many young stars treated it as an acting boot camp—whether they found love or not was debatable, but their acting skills improved.

Originally, this year’s breakout top star, “Z,” had proudly announced his participation in the show—only to be exposed for tax evasion and promptly blacklisted. That was when Luo Ning was brought in as a last-minute replacement.

“I don’t understand what they’re thinking either. They know exactly what this show is like, yet they still sent you here.” Keke was just an ordinary employee under Star River Entertainment, and she could never comprehend the thought processes of the company’s higher-ups. Acting wasn’t Luo Ning’s strong suit, so why send her to this program?

“Keke, wait for me, I…” Luo Ning’s eyes were slightly red at the corners. Her skin was thin, and whenever she got emotional, the edges of her eyes would flush like smudged rouge, tinged with a faint smoky pink.

Keke couldn’t understand how an alpha could unintentionally display such a pitiful expression. Maybe this was what people online called the “fragile aesthetic”?

Once again, Keke marveled at how Luo Ning was the epitome of someone born with natural talent—and coincidentally, it was exactly the type of Keke liked. Though she didn’t want Luo Ning to leave her sight again in this wretched place, she still considerately gave her some privacy.

“Come on, it’s not that big a deal. Don’t hide away and cry. Listen, if that damn on-site director dares to bully you again, I’ll scratch his face and tear his mouth apart.”

Luo Ning turned away, leaving Keke with only her back as she nodded silently. Keke’s heart clenched, hating herself for not being capable enough to protect her.

Most likely, Luo Ning had slipped into the restroom to wipe her tears. Barely in her twenties, she should have had a bright future ahead, yet here she was being ordered around by such people. Anyone would find it unbearable. No, this couldn’t go on—she had to call their supervisor!

Once out of Keke’s sight, Luo Ning tightened the eyepatch over her right eye and undid the top button of her shirt. Her steps were light, showing no trace of dejection.

She lifted her head, gaze fixed in an indiscernible direction, then followed an odd path to the production team’s storage room. Luo Ning took out her phone and switched it to recording mode.

Inside the storage room, the obese on-site director had cornered a young girl. “An omega like you shouldn’t be out here exposing yourself. If you’re in trouble, why not talk to me about it?”

The man’s hairy hand roamed beneath the summer intern’s skirt. The teenage omega, who had just wanted to earn some extra money, was frozen in fear, tears welling in her eyes.

Earlier, when this man had sent the intern to fetch something, Luo Ning had found it strange—what props could a defenseless omega possibly help carry?

Putting away her recording phone, Luo Ning kicked the door open. The director flinched in shock—he had made sure everyone was gone, so who was this? His panicked gaze lifted, only to falter slightly when he saw the face before him.

Light streamed through the door, illuminating a breathtakingly ethereal figure. Luo Ning curled her lips, shedding her earlier cold and wooden demeanor for a bewitchingly alluring smile. The loosened collar of her shirt hinted at a figure that invited imagination.

It was the same person, yet with just a change in expression, she had transformed from a block of wood into a vision of vibrant allure. The director stared at Luo Ning with drooling fascination, suddenly finding the omega beside him utterly unappealing.

Luo Ning tilted her chin slightly, signaling for the intern to leave. The girl nodded gratefully but fearfully, wiping her tears as she fled.

Leisurely twirling her phone in hand, Luo Ning said nothing, merely watching the director through half-lidded eyes. The faint curve of her lips carried a teasing hint of provocation.

“What’s the matter? Now you know to come and flatter me. What were you doing earlier?” The on-site director was certain Luo Ning was here to beg him. This person needed to know what was good for them.

“I had to confirm if there were any cameras,” Luo Ning’s voice was pleasant, with a lingering upward lilt at the end.

“Slut!” The on-site director couldn’t help but rub his hands together excitedly, like a disgusting fly. As a beta, he couldn’t sense pheromones. Though he disliked alpha females, seeing one who usually held herself above others grovel was undeniably entertaining—especially when it was Luo Ning.

“Ah, how annoying. I forgot my gloves,” Luo Ning pouted, her small canine teeth leaving a faint mark on her lower lip in displeasure.

“What? What are you saying? Who needs gloves? Why mention gloves?” The on-site director, blinded by lust, hadn’t expected Luo Ning to throw herself at him.

“Of course…” Luo Ning suddenly grinned brightly, one sharp little canine peeking out as if something had delighted her, “because it’s dirty.”

Suddenly, the warehouse lights went out, plunging everything into darkness. Luo Ning seemed to vanish in an instant, followed by the heavy slam of the door, as if it had been locked from the outside.

The on-site director felt a gust of wind rush toward him before excruciating pain struck—his nose and eyes took the brunt of the blow. Before he could react, he was sent flying backward.

A summer intern, hiding nearby and wiping away tears, pulled out her phone, unsure whether to call the police or her family first. Just then, the sealed warehouse door echoed with a pig-like squeal—the on-site director’s voice.

Then, that repulsive sound abruptly choked off, as if someone had grabbed his throat, leaving only ragged gasps. A heavy thud followed, like something—or someone—hitting the floor.

Clenching her fists, the intern shakily approached the warehouse door.

It swung open instantly, startling her into falling back. Standing there was the beautiful older sister who had just saved her.

Luo Ning’s face was unreadable, cold and detached, though the cuffs of her pants and sleeves bore faint traces of crimson.

Her physical strength had declined—she should add some strength training, Luo Ning mused, shaking out her hand absently.

Seeing the intern collapsed on the ground, she offered a gentle smile, her slightly reddened eyes carrying a fragile vulnerability uncommon among alphas, evoking an inexplicable urge to protect her.

“It’s alright now. Don’t be afraid.” She crouched down, wiping her hand on her pants. Initially intending to pat the intern’s head, she hesitated and instead handed her a tissue.

The frightened little omega, who had only dared to cry softly earlier, now wailed as if she’d finally found someone to lean on.

Luo Ning took half a step back, seemingly at a loss in the face of such intense emotion.

The omega girl looked up, sniffling. “I’m calling the police. I’m reporting him. He touched me—it was terrifying. How could someone be so vile?”

Clearly a sheltered omega who’d never faced such a situation, her fear had now transformed into fury. Picking up a rock, she wiped her face and growled, “I’m going to beat that disgusting creep to death. Let’s see if he dares try it again.”

Luo Ning sighed and stopped the omega girl, her faintly visible single little canine tooth softening the oppressive aura brought by her striking, voluptuous features. “You must protect yourself when working. Don’t worry, he won’t dare to do it again. Call your family to pick you up later and go file a report.”

“But…” The omega was worried that reporting to the police might cause trouble for Luo Ning. Through the slightly ajar door, she could vaguely see the disgusting man lying motionless on the ground.

“There are no cameras here, and it’s so dark… Maybe someone just stepped in to help…” Luo Ning pressed a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture.

The summer intern wiped her tears. “I understand, I understand! I’ve never seen you, and you’ve never seen me! But without surveillance, how can I accuse him? He’ll deny it…”

Luo Ning airdropped a few files. “From just now, plus footage of him harassing and assaulting other female staff on set under the guise of work. Hand them all over to the police.” Though the police weren’t much help, with evidence—and involving an omega—they’d have to take action.

With that, Luo Ning waved and walked away, leaving only her retreating figure behind.

“Hello, police? I… I want to report an assault…” After finishing the call, the omega girl let out a long breath. Just as she was about to call her family to vent her anger, she caught sight of Luo Ning’s airdrop device name and froze.

“Lin Yuan’s little one…”