The Ice-Queen Actress Used Her Acting Skills to Reel Me In! - Chapter 1

At 10 p.m., the nightlife in the bar was just getting started.

The pounding music hammered at eardrums, the DJ passionately hyping up the atmosphere. Qin Zhaoman couldn’t get into the excitement—her head throbbed from the noise. She took an uncomfortable sip of her drink.

Qiao Qiao snatched the glass from her. “Don’t drink if your lungs are bothering you. I ordered you some water—should be here soon.”

Qin Zhaoman raised an eyebrow. “If you knew I wasn’t feeling well, why meet at a bar?”

Phoebe took a sip of her own drink and shrugged. “Cut some slack for the married ones. When we go out, we gotta let loose.”

Qiao Qiao laughed at her. “That’s why I say don’t get married. So much for freedom.”

Phoebe, Qiao Qiao, and Qin Zhaoman had been childhood friends, inseparable from elementary school through high school.

Qiao Qiao was romantic and reckless, growing more flirtatious with age—her girlfriends never repeated. Phoebe, on the other hand, was a smiling tiger. After entering a business marriage, she steadily consolidated control over her family’s influence.

One was a staunch non-marrier, the other wedded young—whenever the topic came up, they inevitably bickered.

But this year was different. Qin Zhaoman, pressured by her family to marry, had become their shared target for teasing.

Qiao Qiao leaned in, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “It’s been a whole year. Still no luck with the matchmaking?”

Qin Zhaoman’s voice was languid. “Haven’t seen anyone worth it.”

Phoebe smirked. “What kind of person would you consider worthy? With the way your uncle’s been throwing suitors at you, you must’ve seen every type of man by now.”

Just thinking about it made Qin Zhaoman irritable. “Enough to make me sick of men altogether.”

Qiao Qiao’s eyes lit up at that. “Oh? You’re switching teams? We could always keep it in the family.”

Qin Zhaoman had a strikingly sharp beauty, her mixed heritage perfectly balanced—her features exquisitely defined, edged with a regal severity. Draped in a tailored blazer, she carried herself with the effortless poise of someone accustomed to success.

Of course, in their circle, no one came from modest backgrounds. But even without the family prestige, Qin Zhaoman stood out as exceptional.

A Ph.D. from a top university, self-made—her ambition and intellect had forged an aura of undeniable authority.

The real kicker? She was untouchable.

Like a wild rose, all thorns and defiance. Over the years, countless had tried to claim her, only to end up as casualties in her wake, watching helplessly as she climbed higher, more tantalizing with every victory.

Whoever managed to pluck this rose would have bragging rights for life.

Qin Zhaoman glanced at Qiao Qiao. “Not interested. Next.”

Phoebe burst out laughing.

Qiao Qiao pouted but chuckled anyway. “So what’s your plan with your uncle? You’re not seriously considering marrying some random guy, are you?”

Qin Zhaoman took a slow sip. “No. I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

The DJ switched tracks—a sweeter melody, softer instrumentals offering Qin Zhaoman’s aching ears a brief reprieve.

The peace lasted mere seconds.

Beside her, Qiao Qiao suddenly shot up, shouting, “Neve!”

Qin Zhaoman lifted her gaze, following Qiao Qiao’s line of sight to the massive projection screen on the wall, now playing the song’s music video.

A woman in a red-and-white rose gown strolled through a garden of roses.

At first, only the curve of her slender waist was visible, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades beneath fair skin. Then, at the garden’s edge, she turned—casting a single, fleeting glance over her shoulder.

One look, and the world stopped.

Her skin was incredibly fair—the first thing that caught the eye was her snow-white complexion, followed by her cherry-red lips, peach-pink earlobes, and the faint blush dusting her knuckles, as if brushed with rouge…

She was as beautiful as an oil painting tinted with rose hues, exuding a uniquely captivating charm.

Qiao Qiao wasn’t the only one shouting. The dance floor erupted in fervent cheers, chanting, “Neve!! Neve!!”

Qin Zhaoman found the scene eerily familiar—it reminded her of the Venice Awards earlier this year. A star so wildly popular that winning a trophy felt like a World Cup victory was hard to forget.

Qiao Qiao amended her words: “If Neve were willing to marry me, I’d be happy to tie the knot.”

Phoebe chimed in, “You might want to try your luck soon. Who knows? You could succeed.”

The latest headline in financial circles was that Shen Changhe, chairman of Yahe Group, was bedridden with illness. His first heir, Shen Niannian, was an easy-to-bully celebrity. While the group’s headquarters in China enjoyed government protection, its French branch was fair game.

Now, outsiders were circling like vultures, while insiders scrambled for power. Internal strife and external threats had thrown everything into chaos.

Qiao Qiao clicked her tongue. “I really don’t get Shen Changhe. Did he leave Neve no way out?”

Phoebe shrugged. “Shen Changhe’s only in his forties. How could he have predicted he’d suddenly fall so ill?”

Qiao Qiao glanced at Qin Zhaoman. Among the three of them, she was the only one with real influence to intervene.

Sympathetic toward Neve, Qiao Qiao couldn’t help adding, “Zelmer, do you think I could help her?”

Qin Zhaoman shot her a look. “It’s complicated. I’d advise against getting involved.”

Qiao Qiao sighed. “Poor Neve. A fallen princess.”

Drunken gossip was just that—talk. After a while, Phoebe’s husband came to pick her up.

A sexy Bunny Girl waitress approached with two masks. “The second half of tonight’s event is a masquerade. These are for you.”

Qiao Qiao took the masks and playfully grasped the waitress’s hand. Seeing her blush but not pull away, she grinned. “Sweetheart, come on. Let’s head to the bar and order your favorite drinks.”

Qin Zhaoman called out, “Hey—”

She’d been dragged here against her will. Now that the other two were leaving, what was she supposed to do?

Qiao Qiao tossed a mask from the table at her. “Since you’re already here, hit the dance floor.”

Qin Zhaoman caught it and set it aside. Glancing down at the pillow fight raging in the dance floor, she grabbed her jacket, ready to settle the bill.

She had a meeting later and no interest in flinging pillows around.

Just as she stepped out, a pillow smacked into her. Amid the flurry of feathers, her phone was knocked from her hand and landed with a splash in the decorative pool beside them, splattering her with water.

Her damp skirt clung to feathers, and her icy expression spelled doom.

Someone bent down, retrieved her phone, and handed it over wrapped in a tissue.

The stranger wore a pearl-white lace mask, concealing everything but the curve of their chin. Yet their poise was impeccable, every gesture radiating a gentle, likable warmth.

“Here,” came a melodious voice.

Qin Zhaoman accepted the phone. “Thank you,” she said politely.

The screen was completely shattered, and water had finished it off for good.

Qin Zhaoman glanced toward the bar but didn’t see Qiao Qiao. However, since the bill hadn’t been settled yet, Qiao Qiao would probably come back to check later.

Pearl White Gauze handed her the remaining tissue in her hand and said, “Here, wipe yourself.”

Qin Zhaoman took it and noticed the woman standing opposite her. “First time here?” she asked.

“First time at this place,” Pearl White Gauze replied. “Not very familiar with it.”

“No seats available?”

“Yeah.”

Qin Zhaoman tossed the used tissue into the trash and prepared to return to her booth to wait for Qiao Qiao. “Come sit with me,” she offered. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Pearl White Gauze gave her a once-over before settling into the seat beside her.

A server brought over the ordered drinks, and Qin Zhaoman instructed them to charge it to her tab. Once the drinks arrived, she didn’t touch hers again, nor did she want to look at the chaotic dance floor. Instead, she focused her gaze on the woman across from her.

The longer she looked, the more familiar the woman seemed—as if she’d seen her somewhere before.

Qin Zhaoman had a good memory; she didn’t forget faces she’d encountered. But the mask the woman wore was seriously interfering with her judgment.

Pearl White Gauze lifted her eyes, meeting Qin Zhaoman’s gaze. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Her voice sounded familiar too.

Qin Zhaoman answered honestly, “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Pearl White Gauze smiled. “Oh?”

Realizing how her words might be misinterpreted, Qin Zhaoman chuckled. “Don’t get the wrong idea—I’m not hitting on you. Straight as an arrow. Just genuinely think you look familiar.”

Pearl White Gauze nodded slightly and provided an explanation. “Maybe at the cinema? I’m an actress.”

Qin Zhaoman suddenly understood. “No wonder.” She raised her glass toward the other woman. “Pleasure to meet you, superstar.”

She wasn’t one to follow celebrities, so if this actress seemed familiar, she must be quite famous.

“Hardly a superstar.”

Pearl White Gauze picked up her iced black beer and lightly clinked it against Qin Zhaoman’s glass.

Qin Zhaoman’s eyes drifted to the woman’s hands—pale even under this lighting, slender and elegant, with faint hints of pink at the fingertips and knuckles.

Those hands looked familiar too.

Now Qin Zhaoman was genuinely curious about who she was.

Pearl White Gauze raised a hand to summon the server. “Check, please.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Qin Zhaoman said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll settle it later.”

Their group never paid attention to drink prices when partying, and it wouldn’t be right to let someone she’d just met cover the bill—especially since the woman had given her tissues earlier.

Pearl White Gauze insisted, “It’s fine.”

She handed over a card to pay, and the server swiftly processed the transaction.

Qin Zhaoman didn’t press further. “Then how about leaving your number? Next round’s on me.”

Pearl White Gauze lowered her eyes to look at her. After a brief pause, she handed Qin Zhaoman the back of the receipt.

Squinting, Qin Zhaoman saw Chinese characters written there:

Shen Niannian: 1736XXXXXXXX

Qiao Qiao stumbled back from her drunken revelry and plopped down beside Qin Zhaoman. “Thought you’d left. What’s got you so focused?”

She snatched the note and stared at it, suddenly sobering up. “Neve?”

Qin Zhaoman echoed, “Neve?”

Qiao Qiao turned to her. “Shen Niannian—Neve’s Chinese name. Is this her number? How’d you get it?”

Qin Zhaoman glanced back at the note. Mystery solved—no wonder she’d seemed so familiar. She’d just seen her in a music video.

Too drunk to make a scene, Qiao Qiao struggled to keep her eyes open but persisted. “So you saw Shen Niannian? Was she stunning?”

Recognizing the eager glint in her friend’s eyes, Qin Zhaoman took back the note, folded it twice, and tucked it into her suit pocket.

“Decent. Didn’t leave much of an impression.”