Chapter Eight: The Charity Concert

A slightly plump, effeminate agent hurried over in mincing steps to calm Chu Yan.
“Yan, please don’t be angry; it’s my fault for not arranging things properly.”
He then turned to the staff present: “What’s wrong with you all? How could you let Ms. Yan eat such rubbish?”
The staff, responsible for the charity concert, bowed their heads in silence. One, unable to endure any longer, muttered timidly, “A meal budget of three hundred isn’t low…”
“What?!” Chu Yan, hearing this, kicked the already overturned table again, sending it crashing into the speaker’s leg with a dull thud.
“How could three hundred possibly be enough! Don’t you know I don’t eat eggs? Or drink milk?”
Seeing Chu Yan erupt once more, the agent hastily soothed her. “Ah, well, this is just a third-rate little city. They’ve done quite a lot already.”
He emphasized “third-rate,” as if looking down on Tianjing City, forgetting that his own so-called Ms. Yan was nothing more than a third-rate minor celebrity.
His words finally cooled Chu Yan’s temper a little; she stamped her foot. “Let’s go! We’ll eat somewhere ourselves!”
No one dared delay. They immediately reported upwards: “Chu Yan wants to eat out.” The organizers responded promptly, promising to cover her meal—“Eat wherever you like, it’s on us”—and assigned a staffer to take them to the city’s most luxurious restaurant.
In truth, Chu Yan was not dissatisfied with the food prepared for her. She simply resented being here. She had been approached in public to participate in a charity auction, shown photos of impoverished children from mountain villages. If she refused, her image as a kind-hearted person would be destroyed; she had no choice but to agree.
In other words, the organizers of this charity auction, who got her to come to Tianjing City without spending a penny, had no reason to care whether she enjoyed a meal.
After Chu Yan finished her western meal and returned, the concert was about to begin. The makeup artist hurried to help her freshen up.
While she was being made up, she suddenly saw in the mirror that the doll held by the little lost girl she’d helped earlier seemed to move.
“Am I seeing things?”
Chu Yan rubbed her eyes and looked back. The doll still hung its head, motionless in the girl’s arms.
“Maybe I’m just overtired lately. How could a doll move? But this girl… She hasn’t moved since she arrived. Why does something feel so off?”
Yet she couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong.
She let the thought go, settling into the chair to enjoy the professional touch of the makeup artist.

Suddenly, the doll in the mirror moved again! This time, it lifted its head and stared straight at her, its eerie smile clear as day.
“Ah—stop! Stop! That doll moved!”
Chu Yan blocked the makeup artist, her finger trembling as she pointed behind her, terror in her voice.
“The doll moved?” The makeup artist was baffled, turning to look. The doll hung its head, motionless, nothing like Chu Yan described.
“Yan, are you sure you’re not just overtired and hallucinating?”
The makeup artist tried to comfort the still shaken Chu Yan.
“But… I clearly saw it move…” Chu Yan looked at the doll, which hadn’t changed at all since she first saw it. Had she imagined it?
“Yan, you can rest a bit while I do your makeup.” The makeup artist, convinced she was just exhausted, suggested a short break.
“All right.” Chu Yan agreed, patting her chest, repeating to herself: “It was just a hallucination, just a hallucination.”
She closed her eyes to rest.
But barely had she done so when she felt something brushing her thigh continually.
“Is the makeup artist being inappropriate?”
She instinctively looked behind her, only to see the makeup artist holding a powder box, confusion written all over his face. “What’s under there?”
She looked under her seat, and as soon as she bent down, she saw the doll lifting its head, grinning brazenly at her.
“Ah! The doll! The doll!”
Chu Yan jumped from the chair, pointing frantically beneath it and screaming.
“What?” The makeup artist, now exasperated by her nerves, bent down and searched carefully beneath the seat, then shook his head.
“There’s nothing here, Yan. The doll’s in that little girl’s arms, hasn’t moved at all. You’re scaring yourself.”
Chu Yan turned her head, finding the doll still clutched in the girl’s arms, head bowed.
“No, impossible, I couldn’t have made a mistake this time! There’s something wrong with that doll! And with that girl!”

Chu Yan pointed at Long Mengting, her voice hoarse with fury. She was certain the sensation on her thigh hadn’t been a hallucination—it was the doll!
“Yan, please, I beg you, you’re about to go on stage! Can’t you just let me finish your makeup in peace?”
The makeup artist was at his wit’s end. He was simply doing her makeup, yet Chu Yan kept having these episodes—who could endure it?
At that moment, the slightly plump, effeminate agent entered and immediately began scolding Chu Yan.
“Yan, what’s wrong with you? You’re about to go on stage, and you haven’t even finished your makeup?”
Chu Yan remained wide-eyed, finger pointed at Long Mengting. “That doll, that doll is alive!”
The agent glanced suspiciously at the doll, then at the makeup artist, who shrugged helplessly, as if to say, “I have no idea either.”
“All right, Yan, you’re going on stage soon. Let’s finish your makeup first; we’ll deal with the doll later, all right?”
He took her hand gently.
Chu Yan gradually calmed herself. She knew what was expected of her now. Despite her fear of the doll, performing was her priority. She nodded softly.
Seeing her agree, the agent smiled and helped her into the chair. “That’s better. Just make sure nothing goes wrong on stage because of that damned doll.”
Chu Yan nodded again, but her eyes stayed fixed on the mirror, as if waiting for something.
Nothing happened until her stage time arrived.
After watching Chu Yan go on stage, the agent began questioning the makeup artist about what had happened.
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. First she insisted the doll moved—never happened. Then she claimed it appeared under her seat. I checked, nothing there…”
Hearing this, the agent took out his phone, pressed a few buttons, and dialed.
“Hello, is this Director Liu in psychiatry? I’d like to make an appointment…”
Thus, the agent was already convinced his Yan had lost her mind.