Guide to Rising to Power as a Wife in Beijing's Elite Circle

At 6:08 PM, at the side entrance of the State Administration of Radio, Film and Television building, the setting sun dyed the glass curtain wall a dazzling golden-red.

Chen Nuo, carrying a slightly heavy backpack filled with today's study notes and materials for tomorrow, walked out of the automatic door chatting and laughing with several fellow students.

Secretary Qin's urgent call, like a chilling command, pierced her eardrums ten minutes ago: "Ms. Chen! The situation has changed! Li Yiran is dead, and the Bai family may use this as an excuse to cause trouble. Reporters are on their way! Immediately, right now, leave through the back staff entrance! Do not answer any questions! I repeat, do not answer any questions!"

His tone was more urgent and stern than ever before, even carrying a hint of barely perceptible panic.

Chen Nuo's heart sank suddenly.

Is Li Yiran dead?

The cousin who gave Li Xiaobao the injection?

The Bai family... are they using this opportunity to cause trouble?

In a flash, the cold, analytical thinking pattern that Fang Jingxiu taught her unconsciously started working in her mind.

Li Yiran is a key witness with tainted evidence. Who benefits most from his death?

White House.

Who does the Bai family most want to target?

Fang Jingxiu.

How to combat it?

They created doubts, manipulated public opinion, and smeared Jingjing officials.

Therefore, as someone who is closest to Fang Jingxiu and closely connected to this case through the film, I will inevitably become their best point of attack in creating public opinion and targeting Fang Jingxiu!

A chill ran up my spine.

This is not a simple case of media harassment; it is a prelude to a meticulously planned media campaign to decapitate Fang Jingxiu!

And she was the chosen trigger!

"Chen Nuo, what's wrong? Your face is so pale?" a colleague next to her asked with concern.

Chen Nuo snapped out of her daze and forced a smile: "It's nothing, I just suddenly feel a little dizzy. You guys go ahead, I need to catch my breath." She needed time to think.

Secretary Qin's order to hide was based on her instinct to protect her.

But is constantly hiding and staying under someone's wing really the best approach?

When the opponent has already pinpointed their target to you, and you have become an indispensable piece in the game, dodging sometimes means retreat and insecurity, giving the opponent more room to fabricate stories.

In particular, when this dirty water was finally about to be splashed on Fang Jingxiu, how could she only think about getting away from it herself?

She could almost picture the vicious questions the upcoming press conferences would ask, how they would portray her as a filthy character who rose to power through a high-ranking official's lover and might even be involved in a conspiracy to silence her.

If she hides, will the dirty water just disappear into thin air?

will not.

They would intensify, appearing even more real as she fled in her guilt, and then mercilessly splash onto Fang Jingxiu!

No.

You can't hide.

We can't let him cause any more trouble.

The idea was so clear, it even carried a sense of resolute determination.

She was no longer the little girl who could only be protected by him and trembled in the face of wind and rain.

She is Chen Nuo, a woman who has experienced life and death, won awards, and is about to enter the system.

She had to step forward, even if it was just to stand here, and in her own way, build the first, perhaps weak, but necessary line of defense for him.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the side door, which was empty and a safe escape route.

Then, she resolutely turned around and started walking down the relatively quiet path that she usually took to the bus stop.

The pace was slow, even somewhat heavy, but each step was taken with exceptional firmness.

Sure enough, as soon as she stepped down the building steps and into the shadows of the alley, seven or eight figures, like ghosts, quickly surrounded her from behind the surrounding vehicles and green belts.

These were no ordinary entertainment reporters; they were highly trained, with eyes as sharp as hawks, and instantly formed a semi-encirclement, blocking all her possible escape routes.

The camera's dark lens, the recorder almost poking her chin, and the blinding flash of the light mercilessly shone on her instantly pale face.

"Director Chen Nuo! Li Yiran is dead! Is this just to create hype for your movie?"

"Director Chen! Was your entry into the Youth Support Program a result of a power-for-sex deal?!"

"Please explain your relationship with a high-ranking official surnamed Fang in Jingjing! Is he your financial backer?!"

"Li Yiran received a threatening phone call from Jingjing before he died. Was it to silence him?!"

The questions, like poisoned daggers, came crashing down with chilling intent and undisguised malice.

Every question was precisely aimed at Fang Jingxiu, attempting to nail her to the pillar of shame as a mistress and accomplice, and then drag Fang Jingxiu into an abyss of abuse of power and murder to silence witnesses.

A terrifying atmosphere instantly gripped Chen Nuo.

She felt a tightness in her chest, as if her blood was flowing backward.

Instinct told her: Run! Run fast!

But another, more powerful voice roared in her mind: Running is admitting defeat! Running is confirming their slander! Think of Brother Xiu!

She bit her tongue sharply, the sharp pain instantly clearing her chaotic thoughts.

She forced herself to stop her instinctive retreat, even slightly raising her chin. Her gaze swept over the aggressive faces, and instead of avoiding the camera, she met it head-on.

Her heart pounded like a drum, her palms were sweaty, but her voice miraculously overcame the initial tremor, ringing out clearly and steadily, a steadiness she herself hadn't anticipated:

"Hello everyone, I'm director Chen Nuo."

He was neither humble nor arrogant, and even carried a hint of coldness.

This unexpected composure caused the torrent of questions to momentarily freeze.

She didn't give them a chance to raise their voices again, quickly taking over, her words steady yet carrying an unyielding force: "Everyone has many questions, and they're quite... pointed. Please give me some time, and we'll address them one by one. This way, it's fair to everyone and can avoid misunderstandings, okay?"

Take control of the rhythm.

Don't let the other party lead you by the nose.

She turned a passive siege into a limited dialogue. This was the first lesson she learned from Fang Jingxiu: in the face of chaos, first establish order.

She didn't immediately answer the most vicious questions about silencing witnesses and the financier, but instead looked at the reporter who was questioning her connection to the forced demolition case.

"Regarding the tragedy of the Li family in Yongzhou, and the passing of Mr. Li Yiran," her tone was heavy and objective, completely devoid of personal emotion.

"As a filmmaker, like everyone else, I learned about Mr. Li Yiran's death through news reports. My film, 'The Silent City,' stems from my observations and reflections on broad social realities, aiming to record the fate of individuals within the pulse of the times. Every step of the film's creation, submission for review, and release strictly adhered to national laws and regulations and industry standards. As for Mr. Li Yiran's cause of death, I firmly believe in and look forward to a fair investigation by the public security authorities. Here, I have no right, and will never, make any unwarranted speculations about any judicial case; this is the most basic respect for the law."

To cut, to define, to elevate one's stance.

By decoupling individuals from specific cases, elevating the film to a matter of widespread concern, emphasizing procedural legality, and occupying the moral and legal high ground.

The reporter, clearly dissatisfied, pressed on sharply: "Your film directly led to the reopening of the case and Zhao Zhiqiang's arrest! Now that a key witness is dead, don't you bear any responsibility? Or is this the result you wanted—dead men tell no tales?!"

Inducement, blatant inducement.

They attempted to pin the responsibility for the witness's death on her and Fang Jingxiu.

Chen Nuo's heart clenched, but his expression remained increasingly calm.

She didn't refute or defend herself, but instead did something that surprised everyone: she turned her head slightly, raised her hand, and gently brushed aside the long strands of hair she had deliberately grown to cover the scars on the side of her neck.

The last rays of the evening light clearly illuminated the pale pink, yet still menacing, scar on her neck.

She turned back, looking directly at the reporter, her voice low but clear, carrying an almost cruel calm:

"My fellow journalist, you're asking me about responsibility? Are you trying to ensure there's no way to prove it?" She paused, her fingertips lightly tracing the scar, her movements slow and deliberate, making sure every camera lens captured it.

"Then I would like to ask in return, if all of this, as you imply, was a premeditated cover-up or a cover-up,"

Her voice suddenly rose, carrying an intense, suppressed anger and sorrow:

"Why am I lying in a hospital in Yongzhou, with a knife wound to my neck, almost never waking up again?! Is my responsibility to use my own life to act in this charade?!"

The scene was deathly silent.

There was only a slight sound of the camera running.

The scar, captured in close-up on camera, silently tells the cruelest truth.

Any conspiracy theory pales in comparison to this mark left at the cost of lives.

Chen Nuo gave them no chance to catch their breath.

She knew the scar could shield her from the accusations of cover-ups, but it couldn't stop the scrutiny of their relationship. She had to press her advantage and address the core issue.

She turned her gaze to the female reporter who was pressing for details about the financier and the high-ranking official surnamed Fang.

This time, her gaze was no longer evasive, but clear and firm.

"As for the help and opportunities I personally received," she began slowly, each word seemingly crafted with great care, "I am always grateful. I am grateful to the mentors who guided me when I was lost, and grateful to the learning platform provided by the Youth Development Program. But I do not accept labels like 'sugar daddy' or 'lover' that are full of insults and speculation."

She paused, as if gathering her strength, and then spoke in a clear and resounding tone:

"To me, those who have helped me are friends, benefactors, and guides who lit a lamp for me when I was walking alone, showing me that the road ahead was not entirely dark."

Her voice trembled slightly, not from fear, but from a surge of emotion:

"They lifted me up, allowing me to see a wider sky; their very existence is the source of my confidence, deep within me, that I always have a way out no matter what, when I face any storm. This confidence has nothing to do with romantic love or power exchange; it is only about trust, guidance, and... a heavy kindness and expectation that I should repay with all my efforts."

Define the relationship, elevate the emotion, and separate it from interests.

Use friends and benefactors to positively characterize the situation;

The author uses the word "lifting" to confidently describe the nature of the help, completely avoiding any association with power or sex.

Ultimately, it rests on trust, guidance, and reciprocation, linking personal feelings with the other person's personal charm and the kindness shown to them, making the logic self-consistent and impeccable.

More importantly, in the context of silencing and slander, emphasizing confidence and trust is the most powerful silent defense of the other party's respect for their character.

After saying this, Chen Nuo felt a kind of exhaustion, but a fire was burning in his chest.

She stopped looking at the reporters' faces—whether astonished, thoughtful, or resentful—and gave a slight bow.

That's all I wanted to say. Thank you for your attention. The innocent will remain innocent, and the guilty will remain guilty. I have classes to attend to, so please excuse me.

She pulled up her scarf, giving the other person no chance to pester her anymore. Straightening her back, under the spotlight and the focus of the cameras and eyes, she walked steadily toward the taxi that happened to be coming and stepped into it.

The car doors closed, shutting out all the noise, malice, and complex calculations.

The train carriage swayed, and Chen Nuo gripped the handrail tightly to keep from collapsing. Cold sweat had soaked through her underwear, and her fingers were still trembling slightly uncontrollably.

But her eyes were surprisingly bright.

She did it.

There was no hiding, no running away.

Using the mindset and methods taught to her by Fang Jingxiu, she faced this long-planned terrorist attack alone.

Perhaps she wasn't experienced enough, or perhaps she left a loophole, but she guarded the most crucial opening, preventing the dirty water from being directly splashed on Fang Jingxiu. In fact, she even gave him a silent but powerful vindication.

The scenery outside the window blends into the flow of traffic.

Chen Nuo looked out the window at the rapidly receding urban forest illuminated by neon lights, and a faint yet remarkably firm smile slowly curved his tired lips.

Under someone's wings, one is certainly safe.

But only by growing its own feathers and learning to stay upright in the storm can it truly fly side by side with that powerful eagle.