Huanyan Dance Hall is the largest entertainment venue in Yuncheng. Its interior is luxuriously decorated, with several disco neon ball-shaped lights on the ceiling.

Contemporary classical music flows from the mouths of heavily made-up women on stage.

Wen Jiaojiao stood in the crowd, listening to the slow-burning song, clicked her tongue twice, and shook her head, saying:

"What's so great about singing this? If I were on top, I'd first wave my hands and then do a phoenix dance to the heavens to set the mood."

Song Qi was only 20 years old, the age when he should be having fun. He stood to the side and said, "You can sing too?"

"No, but I remember a bit of the melody." Wen Jiaojiao said, humming a catchy intro to the energetic tune of "Phoenix Dance in the Nine Heavens".

The song, with its non-lyricable and bizarre tune, left Wen Zhaoye and Song Qi completely bewildered.

Wen Jiaojiao glanced at the two of them with disdain and scoffed:

"Outdated. If you can't even appreciate this kind of song, why bother coming to a dance hall? It's a waste of money. You might as well go back and sleep."

Song Qi picked up his chin from the ground and exclaimed in surprise:

Is this a song?

"I forgot, you don't like hearing this kind of thing now, so I'll change it up."

Wen Jiaojiao then launched into another verse: "Night Shanghai~ Night Shanghai~ Shanghai is a sleepless night."

Her songs are completely out of tune, yet they convey the spirit of a warrior determined to charge into battle and defeat the enemy.

Song Qi, who had just picked up his chin, dropped it again in shock. He scratched the back of his head, looking unsure of himself, and said:

"You...did you write this song yourself?"

"I was just making that up."

Wen Jiaojiao couldn't remember the lyrics and melody of the whole song at all, otherwise she could have used that to pave a bright future, she said proudly.

Wen Zhaoye had previously thought that her ability to laugh even when being scolded in the village was simply due to her good attitude.

Looking back now, she's definitely a wild girl, completely unconcerned, and since leaving the village, her personality has subtly shown a tendency to become more free-spirited.

He touched the stray hairs on the back of his head, equally unsure of himself, and said, "Next time... don't do that next time. Otherwise people will think you're not normal."

Wen Jiaojiao didn't take it seriously at all. Her gaze shifted slightly, and she suddenly noticed the woman on stage wearing a turmeric-colored, tight-fitting scrunchie. She exclaimed in surprise:

"Hey bro, doesn't that guy look familiar?"

Wen Zhaoye frowned and stared for a long time, but couldn't figure it out at all.

Wen Jiaojiao seemed to have read his thoughts and said:

"The one in the room next to ours last night, the one who screamed like her heart was breaking while they were doing it,"

You can't not recognize her face just because her clothes look like a long, elastic lump of poop.

Wen Zhaoye was at a loss for what to do with her; he always felt that she spoke with a sense of detachment from worldly affairs.

He glanced at Song Qi, his face flushed with embarrassment, fearing she might think he was a bit dim-witted, and explained:

“My sister isn’t usually like this at home. Ever since she came to Yuncheng, she seems to be becoming more and more…open. Maybe she’s adapting to local customs. But you absolutely mustn’t mention this when you go back to the factory.”

Wen Jiaojiao has always believed that being thick-skinned means you can eat your fill, and she hates being restricted. She said bluntly:

"Underestimate me? Your village can't contain my free spirit at all. I've always felt that I've been quite uninhibited."

Wen Zhaoye: "..."

With that kind of shamelessness, it would be hard not to get rich if you went into business.

Song Qi awkwardly tugged at the corner of his lips and said:

"You're quite interesting."

Wen Jiaojiao continued to stare at Wu Meijun on the stage, unaware that a man was also staring at her from the corner.

He had a refined appearance, slicked-back hair, and a white shirt that accentuated his tall, broad frame. He sat cross-legged on the sofa, exuding a uniquely refined air of middle age.

"Could you please invite that girl over here for me?"

"Yes, boss." The bodyguard-like man beside her nodded and then approached Wen Jiaojiao, saying:

"Miss, our boss would like to invite you."

Wen Jiaojiao pouted and said, "Your boss invites me, so I'll just go? You're really arrogant."

Suddenly, four or five burly men stepped forward, fists clenched and sleeves rolled up, looking down at her with disdain.

"Huh? What did you say?"

Their thick arms seemed strong enough to grip Wen Jiaojiao's neck with one hand and squeeze out her juice.

Wen Jiaojiao shrank back, took two steps back, and said awkwardly, "Just kidding."

Wen Zhaoye's eyes flashed with coldness and ruthlessness. He saw that the people in the group did not look like good people, so he shielded Wen Jiaojiao behind him and said:

"You'll run ahead of me later."

Just then, Jiang Peitian sipped his red wine, casually lifting his eyelids, and inadvertently noticed Wen Zhaoye's face.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze wavered, and his grip on the wine glass tightened unconsciously. He then set down the glass, stepped forward, and said with a refined, light smile:

"Don't get me wrong, I just own an entertainment company in Hong Kong and I'm hiring. I saw that this lady is very pretty and thought I'd let her join my company."

Wen Jiaojiao knew that the entertainment industry had never been free of chaos, and that without a powerful backer, it was mostly controlled by capital.

There were absolutely no human rights to speak of, and the stars of this era were no more likely to achieve high positions than the stars of the future.

She wasn't even considering it, but before she could even speak, Wen Zhaoye was the first to refuse:

"No need, I can still support my sister."

Although Jiang Peitian was over forty, he was handsome and had a gentle smile on his face. He handed him a business card with his fingertips and said in a soft tone:

"Young man, are you interested? I think you're quite good-looking too."

Wen Zhaoye had a cold and handsome face, and his figure was no less imposing. The fierce look between his brows gave him an aura of authority that carried a sense of pressure.

This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!