On stage, Makino politely accepted the trophy from the presenter, bowed to the audience, and calmly walked to the microphone to deliver his thank-you speech.

He carried the thank-you speech I had prepared for him in advance, his voice devoid of any emotion, completely calm.

Can't you put your heart into it?

I gently shook my head.

"...The person I am most grateful to is my agent, Ms. Sheng Qiaoqiao."

He suddenly said something that wasn't in the script. I frowned, but I was still touched.

Makino's voice was filled with emotion and feeling, and at that moment, the spotlight shone on me.

"When I was at my most helpless and darkest, and almost went astray because of music, she pulled me out of the way. She is my mentor, and even more so, my goddess!"

On the big screen, Mu Ye's beautiful peach blossom eyes sparkled like stars, his Adam's apple bobbed, and the scene quickly switched to me. I smiled with pursed lips, my eyes crinkling with laughter, and my eyes reddened.

It feels like it's been a very, very long time since I've felt this genuinely happy.

The audience erupted in applause.

I stood up and bowed in respect.

"Miss Sheng, I heard that Mu Ye's contract is in your name. Would you like to bring him to our Jinghua? We'll give you shares and dividends, how about that?"

"Come join our company, and we'll make you a partner!"

The awards ceremony was still ongoing, and executives from entertainment companies around me were already extending offers, which I politely declined one by one.

After the ceremony, it started to drizzle outside.

The weather in May doesn't feel cold.

I walked out of the stadium through the back door with Makino, two other artists, and their assistants, along with other celebrities and big names in the industry.

Sister Qiong has prepared a celebration banquet for us, and we will head straight to the hotel in a little while.

Just then, there was a commotion ahead, as if some important person was making their appearance, and all the glamorous celebrities made way for them.

The lights above the main body of the stadium were as bright as day.

A black, sleek Maybach with a dignified presence was parked at the end of the red carpet, with two imposing bodyguards standing beside it.

The driver, dressed in a suit and holding an umbrella, walked to the car door and opened it.

Someone got out of the car and took the umbrella from the bodyguard.

The man, holding a black umbrella, strode towards me with long, unhurried steps, exuding an aura of royalty.

All eyes were on him.

The umbrella obscured the upper half of his face, revealing only his sharply defined, unusually thin jawline and a pair of cool, thin lips.

It's clearly the person I could recognize even if they were ashes.