Chapter 4

On Saturday, the Bluenote Cafe was packed with people.

I didn't expect that only 30,000 copies of Sunlight were initially released and sold out nationwide, yet so many people still came to the signing event.

I entered the lounge through the back door, where the editor-in-chief, Olivia, and others were waiting for me.

Seeing me enter, he quickly pushed me to the makeup table and said, "Give her a delicate and stunning look that outshines everyone."

I was stunned for a moment.

Looking at the girl in the mirror, wearing an oversized school uniform and black-rimmed glasses, I thought to myself, with my looks, how could I possibly outshine everyone?

However, half an hour later, when the makeup artist stepped away from the mirror, I glanced at myself and my eyes involuntarily widened.

The girl in the mirror had red lips, white teeth, and smooth skin.

My long eyelashes curled slightly, my nose was small and sharp, and my lips were painted cherry red.

I looked so different that even I, standing in front of the mirror, hardly recognized myself.

The makeup artist untied my usual tight high ponytail, letting my long hair fall straight down to my waist.

At that moment, Olivia handed me a dress and said, "Change into this."

Time flew quickly, and soon it was nine o'clock, the agreed time for the signing event.

As soon as the glass door opened, fans holding books rushed in all at once.

I sat at the table with a smile and began signing.

While I was signing, a shadow suddenly fell in front of me.

I sensed it and looked up to meet the sparkling eyes of Clifford.

I had only seen him with impatient or indifferent expressions before; this was the first time he looked at me so gently.

Clifford was very close to me.

I leaned back with some worry, afraid he would recognize me.

Fortunately, he seemed unaware that I was Emily Summers.

Only his face flushed as he excitedly said, "Foxy, I am Clifford."

This was his reader ID.

I nodded and deliberately lowered my voice. "So it's you. Thank you for your support."

"You're welcome." Clifford placed the collector's edition in front of me. After watching me sign it, he made a reasonable request before leaving.

"Can we take a photo together? Or, could you give me your contact information?" he said.

Group photos were usually agreed to as long as the demands weren't too much.

But when I looked at his expectant expression, unexpectedly, I recalled the look of disgust he gave me at school.

If Clifford knew I was his bootlicker, Emily, he would definitely regret keeping this photo together.

Anyway, the contract was about to expire.

I didn't want any connection with him anymore.

So I shook my head and smiled, "Sorry, I don't want to take a photo."

The event lasted until one in the afternoon.

After seeing off the fans, I returned to the lounge.

Olivia handed me the purchased meal and, watching me eat greedily, asked with interest. "Foxy, can't you pay more attention to your image?"

I rolled my eyes. "What use is an image? It doesn't put food on the table or help me earn more money."

Olivia nodded. "That's true."

Then he asked curiously, "You wrote three books in two years, kept up with 6,000 words a day. At first, I thought you were a full-time author, but learning you're just a student shocked me. How do you manage such dedication?"

I answered without hesitation, "I need money."

Having no money, I accepted Vivian's support, had to act like a simp at school, and was looked down upon by everyone.

Olivia looked at me with sympathy upon hearing this.

At that moment, the door to the lounge was knocked.

A staff member came in and told me someone was looking for me outside.

"The event is over, and the fans still haven't left?" Olivia frowned.

The staff member explained, "A guy was holding a bouquet of baby's breath; he doesn't look like a fan, but more like—"

She glanced at me and teased, "Foxy's boyfriend."

We both froze.

Where would I get a boyfriend?

Out of curiosity, I decided to take a look.

In the café, a guy in a white shirt sat with his back to me, a large bouquet of baby's breath on the table.

As soon as I stepped in, he turned his head.

It was Clifford again.

He hadn't left yet.

Seeing that I really came, he immediately stood up awkwardly and held out the baby's breath to me.

He said, "Although you don't want to take a photo together, I still don't want to miss this chance. Foxy, my name is Clifford Emerson. I really like your books. Of course, I believe that anyone who can write such books must be a wonderful person."

"Really?" I interrupted him, my gaze sliding past the flowers and landing on his face.

I never knew a person could have two faces that differ so greatly.

My face showed no emotion or surprise.

I just looked at him coldly and asked, "So, what kind of person do you think I am?"