Rapid Collapse (GL) - Chapter 1

Zhao City welcomed another peak tourist season. The streets were bustling with cars and people, neon lights flashing, and young couples strolling hand in hand. Across from the bar street was a wide, straight highway, flanked by mountains, leading to a vast ocean at its end.

At that moment, the beach was filled with tourists of all kinds. Some small-time influencers were live-streaming the sea view with their tripods, while couples in love whispered sweet nothings to each other. Many of them were looking toward the section of the beach near the mountains.

That part of the beach had been completely cleared, leaving no unrelated personnel. The director sat behind the monitor, holding a walkie-talkie, watching the screen intently. On the screen was a stunning woman with delicate features. Her long, dark brown hair was tied into a neat ponytail, swinging energetically behind her. She had straight eyebrows, and when she lowered her head, the arch of her brows made her appear sharp. Her curled, long eyelashes framed a pair of lively almond-shaped eyes that shimmered as if she was wearing colored contacts.

Further down, the screen showed her small, delicate nose and translucent lips, reminiscent of rose petals covered in morning dew.

“Are we done yet? Can we cut now?” Han Ning raised her voice at Zhou Heyang, her tone bold and loud, not matching her delicate face.

Zhou Heyang snapped out of his trance and shouted “Cut!” into the walkie-talkie. The day’s shoot was over, and the crew began packing up.

Han Ning lifted her dress and walked barefoot out of the water, her brows furrowed in pain. Her assistant, Kou Kou, hurried over to help her.

“Ah…” Han Ning looked down at her feet and gasped. “The seawater stings so much!”

Kou Kou handed her a pair of comfortable slippers. As they walked towards the trailer, Han Ning overheard dozens of whispers from passing tourists calling her a diva.

She took off her sunglasses, scanned the crowd coldly, and the murmurs immediately quieted. Those same tourists who had been gossiping suddenly pretended as if nothing had happened, looking elsewhere. Han Ning rolled her eyes, smirked, put her sunglasses back on, and strode onto the trailer.

Kou Kou pulled out a tube of ointment from the first-aid kit and handed it to her. “Ning Jie, here, this will cool it down and make it feel better.”

Han Ning took the ointment, sat cross-legged, and applied a small amount to the wound. It did feel much better.

“How did you even get hurt?” Kou Kou asked curiously.

Han Ning screwed the cap back on and replied casually, “I was binge-watching a drama last night. My hands got restless, and I picked at my foot too hard.”

Kou Kou facepalmed. “I really didn’t expect you to get injured this way… You’re such a unique rising star.”

“Oh, stop, you’re making me blush. Your sister Ning has always walked the road less traveled, sweetheart~” Han Ning teased Kou Kou with a straight face.

Kou Kou was already used to this. In her eyes, Han Ning was perfect—naturally talented, down-to-earth, and her absolute idol.

From last summer to this summer, Han Ning had only been in the industry for a year. Just a year ago, she was an ordinary person.

Her debut was rather unconventional. She had been stood up by a friend, furious and unable to contain her anger, yelling into her phone on the street. Her outburst caught the attention of passersby—including Liang Xun.

After much effort convincing her that he wasn’t a scammer and was actually a talent agent, Liang Xun finally managed to bring Han Ning to Zhou Heyang’s company.

With her striking looks, tall figure, and strong presence, Zhou Heyang was instantly impressed and signed her on the spot.

After only three months of acting classes, Zhou Heyang arranged her first audition with another production team.

Ten minutes before the audition, Han Ning was still struggling with her lines. But when the moment came, Liang Xun took away her cheat sheet, forcing her to rely on memory.

Strangely enough, she delivered the lines fluently, with perfect articulation and emotions on point—an outstanding performance.

Zhou Heyang was pleasantly surprised, thinking it was just luck. But regardless, she landed the role. After the drama wrapped up, the director told Zhou Heyang, “This girl has real potential.”

Taking this to heart, Zhou Heyang cast her in his next project. Just as that director had said, the moment the cameras started rolling, Han Ning would throw away the script and deliver her lines effortlessly. But the second someone yelled “Cut,” she would instantly forget everything she just said.

Zhou Heyang sighed, “If every actor was like her, we wouldn’t have so many struggling with burnout…”

By the time Han Ning got home, it was already around 9 PM. She had just sat down when her phone chimed—it was a message from Liang Xun.

[Han Ning, the company got you a new role. It’s a novel adaptation with great reviews.

I’ll send you the details, take a look!]

Han Ning rolled her eyes and typed back quickly: [Not interested.] She figured it was another cliché, melodramatic rich-girl romance…

Not long after, her phone dinged again—this time, a document. Liang Xun also sent a voice message: “Come on, Han Ning, at least check it out before rejecting it!”

Ignoring him, she put her phone on silent and continued watching the drama she hadn’t finished the night before.

By midnight, she was still awake. Feeling thirsty, she went to the kitchen, grabbed a cold beer, and returned to her desk—only to find her computer screen frozen and a Wi-Fi error message displayed.

“Ugh, did the internet go out?” she groaned in frustration. Left with no choice, she took a shower and got ready for bed.

As she lay in bed, struggling to sleep, she instinctively opened Weibo. After scrolling a bit, she saw a trending post from an entertainment account.

It announced that the famous author Xi Rufeng’s classic novel was being adapted into a TV series, and there was even a poll for fans to vote on the lead actresses.

It was clearly a post meant to stir up controversy.

However, the comments were filled with rational fans saying, “No official announcement, no interest!” and “We support our goddess!”

Han Ning felt a pang in her heart—not because her name wasn’t in the poll, but because this novel was a personal favorite of hers.

She rolled around in bed, mumbling to herself, “They’re adapting Nan Yan? My beloved Nan Yan better not be ruined!”

She had read Nan Yan when she was twenty. It was a story of two girls secretly in love, never daring to confess. She had been obsessed, even dreaming about it every night.

But the ending wasn’t a happy one. The author left it open-ended, frustrating many fans, including Han Ning. She had even messaged the author on Weibo, begging for a happy ending.

But days passed without a reply.

Determined, she found the author in a reader’s group and persistently sent messages. After over a month of heartfelt essays and daily check-ins, the author finally relented and allowed her to write a short, 10,000-word alternate ending.

Han Ning spent three days writing it, eager to share it—only to find the author had deleted her, disbanded the reader’s group, and vanished from Weibo.

She hugged her stuffed bear and sighed. The soft glow of the bedside lamp made her eyelids feel heavy. Within minutes, she drifted into sleep.

Outside, the full moon shone brightly in the quiet night.