Chapter Fourteen

As the weather grew hotter, the elderly residents in the neighborhood started moving their exercise and grocery shopping to earlier hours.

The old building’s poor sound insulation meant Meng Kaiyan could hear the soft rhythmic sounds of Tai Chi and the loud chopping of bones early in the morning.

Though the noise was annoying, there was nothing she could do — they had been neighbors for years, constantly running into each other. She could only try to sleep an hour earlier.

However, Meng Kaiyan hadn’t fallen asleep until after midnight last night, and now her head throbbed, dampening her mood.

Clearly, she had spent last night refining her facial features again.

Meng Kaiyan confidently claimed that last night’s facial adjustments were the most skillful and time-consuming she had done so far.

By last night, her system account had 93 starlight points. This time, she didn’t spend them all; she reserved 23 points for skin tone.

In the blazing summer heat, with her tendency to tan easily, she had to consider her complexion carefully.

What about the remaining 70 points? Meng Kaiyan pulled back her blanket and went to the dressing table, scrutinizing the face in the mirror—one that could be called fairly delicate by entertainment industry standards.

It was unmistakably familiar, yet subtly unfamiliar.

It seemed changed, yet also unchanged.

That was because she hadn’t altered the shape of her features, only their positions—specifically the vertical proportions from eyes to mouth.

She had shortened the distances between them by a few millimeters.

Anyone with a bit of cosmetic surgery knowledge knows that as long as the facial features are properly positioned, no matter what shape they are, a skillful surgeon can work wonders.

If you also have a small head and face, congratulations—you belong to the elite of the cosmetic surgery world.

But if the proportions are off, no matter how exquisite the features, it’s difficult to fix.

Bones can be shaved, but the three sections of the face (forehead, mid-face, and lower face) are hard to alter. Without the system, Meng Kaiyan wouldn’t dare touch them.

This time, moving them used up all 70 starlight points, and the effect wasn’t enough. Because her adjustments were based on the upper and lower face, as well as the sizes of the features, if she ever started tweaking the middle section or other feature placements, she’d have to spend even more points—an astronomical number by her current standards.

In any case, the three hours and 70 starlight points spent last night were not wasted. Meng Kaiyan clearly felt her face had undergone a subtle transformation, reaching a new level.

But this also brought a side effect: she now needed to wear makeup regularly.

For those who rarely saw her, this change could be described as blossoming.

But for her parents, who lived with her every day, it was different. Previous changes had been minor, barely noticeable to the naked eye. This time, they definitely noticed something was off.

Meng Kaiyan had to rely on makeup to mask the difference, so that after seeing her with makeup often, they wouldn’t find her bare face strange.

Fortunately, she had plenty of cosmetics and could do a slightly heavier on-camera look in about ten minutes.

As she applied her makeup, she regretted her impatience: from now on, major changes had to be done gradually over half a month to a month.

You can’t become a big success overnight; you’d only overwhelm yourself.

After finishing, she opened the door. Jian Zhenzhu was returning with groceries and paused in surprise.

“Trying something new? Nini, are you going out?”

Meng Kaiyan shook her head. “No, I just suddenly felt like practicing my makeup skills.”

Jian Zhenzhu hung the keys on the door hook and carried the groceries to the kitchen. “Definitely need to practice. I see those extras on set always carry makeup bags and do a great job.”

Meng Kaiyan bounced over and linked arms with Jian Zhenzhu, blinking. “So, Mom, do you think I look pretty today?”

Jian Zhenzhu touched her face. “Pretty. Seeing you just now made the whole house seem brighter.”

Meng Kaiyan blushed. “Then I’ll wear makeup more these days.”

Jian Zhenzhu said, “Go ahead. Need more makeup? I can buy you some.”

Meng Kaiyan replied, “No, I’m slow with cosmetics. I haven’t even finished what I bought two years ago.” Her lipsticks were okay, but she had six or seven eyeshadow palettes untouched.

For the next half month, Meng Kaiyan wore makeup daily without fail—various heavy styles for the first week, lighter looks in the second—like opening mystery boxes. This made Meng Minghai wait for her to finish before leaving for work every day, curious to see how his daughter styled herself.

After half a month, Jian Zhenzhu and Meng Minghai finally accepted Meng Kaiyan’s new appearance.

Still, the observant Jian Zhenzhu couldn’t help but mutter, “You’ve grown so fast these two years. If I didn’t see you every day, I’d think you’d gone for plastic surgery.”

Meng Kaiyan chuckled softly, saying nothing, thinking: Little do they know, I actually did.

—

During the days without filming, Meng Kaiyan found life dull. She preferred working on set.

Luckily, the summer break passed quickly, and soon school resumed. She officially became a senior, preparing for the upcoming unified and school entrance exams.

Jian Zhenzhu was more anxious than her. “I heard from your aunt that many students sign up for training classes. Do you want to join one?”

Meng Kaiyan was putting on her shoes by the shoe cabinet, swinging her backpack behind her. “No need. Teacher Yang said she’ll oversee my progress. Oh, and she told you not to send her any packages anymore. She won’t accept them.”

Though Yang Suye wasn’t officially a teacher at the performing arts academy, she graduated from one of the top three schools and had devoted 20 years to drama. Her experience surpassed some academy faculty.

Jian Zhenzhu sighed. “No packages then. Yang Teacher’s really kind, treating you like her own student. I’ll go to your Aunt Wu’s place and buy some local honey to bring to her. If she won’t take packages, at least she can accept honey.”

Aunt Wu’s real name was Wu Yi. She was Jian Zhenzhu’s close friend from Jilin’s Changbai Mountain region, where her family kept bees. You could buy the purest local honey from her.

Meng Kaiyan stamped her foot and opened the door. “Honey’s good. Yang Teacher uses her voice a lot; honey soothes the throat.”

With that, she left, hurrying to class.

As she entered senior year, the class atmosphere grew tense, with weekly exams and paper reviews. Meng Kaiyan felt relieved she wasn’t filming; otherwise, her grades would have definitely slipped.

If her grades dropped, she’d fall to the bottom of the class.

But there was some good news: Meng Kaiyan learned from Director Chen Man that the TV series had received its license. It was to be CCTV’s flagship drama for the new year, and its title changed from “The Road of Growth” to “Steel Woman.”

This news helped Meng Kaiyan endure the difficult first semester of senior year, easing her anxiety.

—

At the drama troupe, Yang Suye was coaching Meng Kaiyan on singing.

“It’s best to sing beautifully, of course. But for the unified exam, singing mainly tests your vocal quality and expression. More deeply, it’s about rhythm and your understanding of the song or opera. So forcing the pitch isn’t meaningful. Focus on expression.”

Yang Suye rubbed her ears, still recovering from the harsh singing of other students. She had five students to coach, including Meng Kaiyan. Often, relatives or friends pushed students into her class, making it hard to refuse.

One girl acted well but sang terribly—so off-key it was painful to listen to. Yang Suye frowned deeply.

Fortunately, Meng Kaiyan was versatile, but that versatility made her overly ambitious. She just wanted to pass, but insisted on practicing until perfect, leaving Yang Suye feeling helpless.

—

Now, Meng Kaiyan was stubborn again.

She scratched her face, hesitated, then said, “I still want to practice.”

Yang Suye sighed, knowing this was inevitable. “Alright, practice then. Try to get good scores by mid-November to secure the unified exam baseline. Also focus on academics. If you don’t pass the university entrance score, no matter how well you do in the exams, it’s useless. Ever since this policy was announced, many students failed because of their academic scores.”

Meng Kaiyan nodded. “Don’t worry; my grades have always been good.”

“You’re definitely the most reliable one.” Yang Suye glanced at the time. “Keep going; I’ll step out next door.”

Meng Kaiyan was at a different level from the other four students—she was already an actor, while the others were novices. Practicing together could crush their confidence.

After Yang Suye left, Meng Kaiyan didn’t waste time, continuing to practice singing in her room.

She recorded herself on her phone, then listened back to check for pitch errors or emotional shortcomings.

At dusk, Meng Kaiyan packed up to go home.

Back home, she checked off another item on her to-do list.

She had finished recitation and singing practice.

Now, only physical skills and improvisation remained.

Improvisation was on-site topic drawing—no way to practice in advance. Physical skills, however, were a bit tricky.

Meng Kaiyan had studied classical dance for years but hadn’t practiced for three or four years. Even with recent stretching, she felt somewhat weak.

Her nature was to do everything perfectly, but physical training was risky. What if she overdid it and injured herself? She still had exams to take.

After much thought, Meng Kaiyan decided to pick a simple dance to avoid overexertion.

As the weather cooled, it was time to plant rapeseed. Jian Zhenzhu’s family was from Zhejiang, and at this time, Meng Kaiyan’s grandfather always returned home to tend the fields.

Jian Zhenzhu had been fretting for days, “He’ll be seventy in two years but still so active. Not afraid of twisting something?”

Meng Minghai replied, “An energetic elder is a good thing.”

Jian Zhenzhu rolled her eyes. “He even wanted Kaiyan to accompany him home on weekends. His mind’s like mush, not thinking straight at all. Not as thoughtful as my stepmother, who knows Kaiyan’s a senior about to take art exams and shouldn’t be disturbed. Her own grandfather doesn’t seem to know.”

Meng Minghai said, “Aunt Jiang is nice.”

Jian Zhenzhu nodded. “Right? My dad doesn’t measure up to her.”

She then called toward Meng Kaiyan’s room, “Nini, have you paid the unified exam fee?”

Meng Kaiyan, sweating, answered, “Paid already.”

Dance practice was tiring but effective. After a week, she reached her desired standard.

After resting briefly, Meng Kaiyan sat at her desk, checked off another task.

Preparing thoroughly, she was ready for the unified and school entrance exams.