Revenge at the Miss Chinatown Pageant

This year's Miss Chinatown Beauty Pageant is more grandiose than ever before, covered in full by the renowned Jade Television Station. After preliminary and rerun rounds through various subdivisions, thirty beauties have made it to the finals. Today's banquet is the first such gathering hosted by the organizers, attended by both sponsors and judges.

Jane, along with the other twenty-nine beauties, started getting ready early in the morning, donned in uniform white low-cut dresses. As the cocktail party neared, tension mounted; some were touching up their makeup, others were practicing their poise, for this event was of great significance to every one of them—

Although the organizers publicly announced that the cocktail party was merely for sponsors, judges, and contestants to interact and exchange feelings, those familiar with the industry knew it signaled the start of unwritten rules. How well one seized opportunities here could directly affect advancement in the competition and even one's future prospects.

Half an hour before the party was set to begin, Jane left the downcast and noisy makeup room. No sooner had she opened the door than she heard the shrill clack of high heels approaching. A tall, voluptuous woman surrounded by a crowd approached, wearing large black sunglasses. Her wavy hair was stylishly tossed to one shoulder, and her form-fitting dress accentuated her proud figure—

As the woman drew closer, Jane stared intently at her, gripping her fists tightly at her sides. It was Shayla. Jane had imagined countless scenarios for their reunion, countless times she wanted to tear Shayla apart, yet she hadn't expected it to happen so suddenly.

Shayla was finally only five steps away from Jane. She turned her sunglass-shrouded face towards her, possibly sizing Jane up. An assistant, intuitively grasping the situation, explained: "Shayla, your makeup room is over there. This small cabin is crammed with those little flowers."

After listening, Shayla turned her head away disdainfully.

"What are you standing around here for? You're blocking Shayla's way!" Shayla's assistant boomed, full of bluster.

It was a wide corridor; how could Jane, standing to the side, possibly be in the way? It seemed as if no grass was allowed to grow where Shayla trod.

Jane inwardly smirked, then suddenly burst into a warm smile, trotting a few steps ahead to block Shayla's path: "Shayla, Shayla, I'm a huge fan of yours, and I just couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you in person. I'm so excited! Could you please give me an autograph? I'm not sure where you could sign though... this..."

Her "nervous" rambling was incoherent, but after looking up and down her own body, finding no spot suitable for an autograph, she simply extended her arm with a grin: "Shayla, could you sign here, perhaps?"

Initially, Shayla had no intention of acknowledging the nobody, but upon seeing the badge on Jane's chest that read "Contestant #17," she felt a surge of pleasure. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she reached back, her assistant handing her a pen.

As Shayla was signing her name on Jane's arm, she held her chin high and spoke with a senior's tone, "Little sis, getting into the business is easy, making a name for yourself is the hard part. You better work hard."

Her advice was filled with disdain, an attitude of superiority through and through.

Jane maintained the smile on her lips as she looked at the sloppy, burning autograph on her arm, took a step back, and bowed, "Thank you for the guidance, Shayla!"

Shayla laughed at Jane's idiotic and naive demeanor, and whether it was genuine or not, her arrogance expanded without limits. She continued to hold her head high and turned to enter the makeup room.

From the moment the door opened to when it closed, Jane caught a glimpse of the luxurious makeup room specially designed for Shayla. As it is everywhere in this world, competition is the same—only those who are popular and have status are entitled to luxury.

Jane watched as Shayla arrogantly took a seat in front of the makeup room, removed her sunglasses, and was swarmed by a group of makeup artists. As the door closed, they became a mere sliver. Jane clutched the black signature on her wrist, her nails almost digging a hole in that spot!

This woman had killed her, killed her child, yet she hadn't faced any punishment, living more brightly and beautifully than ever...

But Jane knew she had to endure, to avoid a reckless outburst; otherwise, she wouldn't be able to accomplish anything. She walked away from the makeup room door with heavy steps and, turning the corner, inadvertently bumped into someone.

The person was moving fast, and Jane, lost in her thoughts, stumbled backward.

"Be careful." The man caught her around the waist.

At the sound of his voice, Jane snapped back to reality. She'd been thinking of William Blake, and in the next second, she had run into him.

Upon seeing William Blake's gentle and handsome face, Jane immediately sounded a warning bell in her heart, yet a layer of mist swiftly formed in her eyes, "Bad uncle, why is it you?"