"Cut..."

On set, the director sitting behind the monitor rubbed his temples and stormed off toward the set, script in hand.

"Who the hell brought in that useless woman?"

The man sitting beside the producer wasn’t hiding his annoyance either. After just one look at the monitor, he cursed under his breath.

He wore a pale blue costume embroidered with plenty of ornate designs. His long hair was done up neatly in a traditional bun, held together with a white jade hairpin. The sharp lift at the ends of his fox-like eyes made him stand out.

Even in an industry full of attractive stars, Alexander Jones was in a league of his own.

But man, his temperament definitely matched his looks: sharp, explosive, and zero tolerance.

Emily Smith sat quietly on a small box, looking around nervously. The producer had plastered on a totally blank expression, pretending not to hear a word. The director of photography was similarly avoiding all eye contact, focused straight ahead like he had never learned what sound was.

"Alex, it’s Mr. Wang," Emily whispered near his ear, tone low, as if trying to calm a ticking time bomb.

"Seriously? That mess of a scene lasted like, what, five seconds? And we’re still stuck here?"

Alex instinctively raised his wrist to check the time⁠—only for his hand to brush uselessly at his elaborate costume sleeve. No watch today.

"It’s fifteen to midnight," Emily quickly chimed in, voice soft but precise.

Being the assistant to a superstar with a not-so-picture-perfect temper meant Emily had become a pro at reading the room.

Alex threw her a light glance. Emily instantly looked down, avoiding his eyes, ears flushed pink even as she tried to play it cool.

She saw him every day, yet every time that face showed up within a three-meter radius, her heart still raced like a hopeless fangirl. Those refined, carefully sculpted features of his really were too much—like some divine artwork.

"Alright, reset!" the assistant director shouted.

Alex finally looked away from his assistant. But two seconds later, he was fuming again.

"What the hell? She’s supposed to be a heroic swordswoman, not a street performer scratching fleas!"

Emily quickly clapped a hand over her mouth before an uncontrolled laugh could slip out. He always looked classy and composed during awards shows and promos, but get him on set and that image was out the window.

"You find that funny? Why don’t you go do her part, then?"

Even though Emily had caught herself mid-laugh, Alex clearly picked her to vent his anger.

The poor assistant practically shrank into herself.

The assistant director was also at his limit. On one side, the actual director looked like he was about to explode; on the other, the clueless actress was still convinced her "interpretation" was genius. And of course, she had connections.

They had a key scene shoot tomorrow and probably another all-nighter ahead. Everyone was hoping to wrap early tonight. Then this disaster showed up and ruined everything.

"Let Director Sun drop her already. No point wasting more of our lives on her," Alex snapped, getting up.

It had taken a solid two hours to get him into full costume and makeup—now all for nothing.

"Alex, heading back to the hotel?" Emily asked carefully.

"You wanna stay here, be my guest," he threw over his shoulder without breaking stride.

Two hair stylists hurried after him to help remove his wig.Emily picked up the small suitcase and quickly trailed after him—she could tell Alexander was already on edge.

They were filming at a closed set, and it’d take at least half an hour to get back to the hotel.

As soon as they got into the van, Emily threw a quick glance at the driver. No words needed, but the message was clear: the boss is in a bad mood today—everyone, tread carefully.

She raised the divider between the front and back seats. The space inside was cozy. Alexander, now in his own clothes, had already flopped down in the back. Only the dramatic makeup, long brows brushing his temples, remained.

He spotted her sneaky glances but didn’t bother saying anything. She always peeked at him like that.

“Where’s the glass?”

Reaching into the minifridge, Alexander pulled out a bottle of red wine.

“Not a great idea to drink this late,” Emily said softly, daring to take the bottle from him. When she noticed his brow twitch, she immediately handed him a thermos instead.

“What’s in this?”

“Juice. It’s not sweet this time—try it.”

Emily looked up at him with her round little face full of anticipation, eyes shining with a hint of flattery.

Alexander glanced at her again. On a normal day, she looked just decent—clear features, fair skin. But when she smiled? It was like a totally different person. That pure, innocent expression, eyes glittering like crushed starlight... it made her look irresistibly sweet.

Even Alexander, with his famously short fuse, couldn’t bring himself to get upset at that face.

He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. His expression practically said, “If this tastes bad, I’m throwing it back at you.”

He took a sip, smacked his lips dramatically.

Guess it passed the test—he finished the whole thing in one go and casually tossed the thermos back at her.

“Come here.”

Emily had barely set the glass down when she felt herself being lifted—Alexander pulled her straight onto his lap.

She froze. Her whole body went stiff, and her ears turned tomato red, standing out even more against her pale cheeks.

Unable to resist, Alexander pinched her ear. It was soft—kinda nice, actually.

With a cheeky grin, he looked like a kid who’d just pulled off a prank, clearly amused by his assistant nearly having a heart attack.

Emily blinked rapidly, her wide eyes darting everywhere but at him. The way her lashes fluttered, it felt like a butterfly had brushed against his heart.

“You’re not a kid anymore—why do you still smell like milk?” he teased, eyes drifting from the curve of her nose to her soft, pink lips.

“I—I don’t…” Her heart was pounding so loud, she nearly forgot how to speak.

“I can literally hear your heartbeat.”

Emily felt like she might combust on the spot. And then Alexander actually leaned in, putting his ear close to her chest, laughing when he saw her reaction.

“I—I...uh...”

“You what? Seriously, can’t you feel it?”

He smirked, mouth tilted up wickedly. That close-up view of his face turned Emily’s brain to mush—all thoughts went blank.

Watching her all flustered, Alexander couldn’t help himself. His arms tightened around her, hugging her like a life-sized plush toy.

“You’re so soft.”