The chilblains on the joint of Chi Shuo’s right little finger seemed poised for a comeback. Why else would it feel itchy again? The sensation spread through her blood, reaching every limb.
Chi Shuo thought she could hear her own heartbeat, thump after thump. Whether out of resentment or something else, it pounded like a drum demanding justice, loud enough to create a buzzing “weng weng weng” in her ears.
She took a while to calm down. Once her heartbeat settled, she blinked, pondering the meaning behind He Lindi’s “Sweet?”
But she couldn’t find an answer. Resigned, she picked up the book beside her again, opened it, and began hypnotizing herself.
The result was a sleepless night.
Fortunately, it was Saturday. After eating breakfast, Chi Shuo crawled back into bed and finally fell asleep.
But perhaps because her thoughts had lingered on it the night before, she dreamt, and the dream was related to He Lindi.
The scene was outside a large house, resembling a wooden model from a real estate company, utterly unreal. Safety barriers surrounded it, enclosing a patch of green grass with a somewhat narrow path running through the middle.
It was a winter night, snowflakes even drifting in the wind. Someone knelt on the path outside the door. As the view zoomed in, it was unmistakably He Lindi.
This wasn’t the He Lindi of today, but her teenage self, around seventeen or eighteen. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail. She should have looked vibrant and youthful, but the current impression was far from it.
Her back was ramrod straight, her head slightly lowered. Her hair fell to either side, parting in the middle, carrying a sense of finality, of never seeing each other again.
“What did I do wrong?” Chi Shuo heard He Lindi whisper. “What’s wrong with me being with Ding Miaoran?”
In the darkness, illuminated by the streetlight, Chi Shuo saw her expression—stubborn and resolute.
Her voice remained soft and low: “I did nothing wrong.”
Just then, a low shout came from inside: “How dare you behave so presumptuously in the He family!”
He Lindi slowly raised her head. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought hard to keep them from falling.
Her voice trembled from the cold, her lips, purple from the chill, also quivered: “As long as I break up with her, you’ll let her go, right?”
The dream ended there. When Chi Shuo woke up, she felt encased in ice, utterly cold.
But in reality, her room’s air conditioning was on; she shouldn’t have felt that way while sleeping.
Chi Shuo took two seconds to recover, exhaled, and picked up the phone that had woken her.
The number wasn’t saved, but Chi Shuo knew who it was.
Who else could it be but Shen Qu? Chi Shuo had a good memory; after just two calls, she recognized the number.
“Hello?”
Chi Shuo answered. She touched her neck, realizing it felt sticky—covered in cold sweat from sleep.
Everything in the dream had felt so real. Thinking back, Chi Shuo felt a lingering fear, not daring to guess what the dream version of He Lindi faced next.
She also grew more curious: did He Lindi and Ding Miaoran really break up because of family interference?
If that was the case…
“I’m in Yuncheng. Come out for hot pot.” Shen Qu’s words pulled Chi Shuo back to reality.
Chi Shuo was speechless. If she remembered correctly, today was only the 8th. She pursed her lips and reminded her tactfully, “Our company’s event isn’t until next month.”
“Doesn’t conflict.”
Chi Shuo sighed helplessly. “Isn’t your crew still filming?”
“But the crew took two days off.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Chi Shuo lowered her head slightly. “In that case, I don’t want to be an accomplice. I won’t keep you company.”
“Someone harassed me.” Shen Qu’s voice carried fatigue. “It’s been suppressed. The company told me to rest for these two days while they handle it.”
Chenyue Film and Television was one of the top film companies in the industry, known for its strong tactics and excellent public relations. If Shen Qu had been harassed, the perpetrator would definitely pay a price.
“Coming out?” Shen Qu asked again.
“I’ll consider it.”
“What are you afraid of? It’s not just me. I also invited my photographer friend.”
“…” With that lineup, there was no way Chi Shuo could go. She casually made an excuse, “I’m a bit busy. Maybe tomorrow.”
Shen Qu sighed. “You still haven’t forgiven me.”
Chi Shuo wiped the sweat from her brow. Hearing this, she laughed. “Shen Qu, do you have some misunderstanding about me?” She added, “You misunderstand yourself too, and you misunderstand love even more.”
“I don’t think so.”
Chi Shuo laughed, but her tone was cold. “If dating two people at once doesn’t count as scum, how many does it take?”
Shen Qu seemed to seriously consider it. After two seconds, she replied, “More than seven, I guess. Seven means one for each day of the week. Any more than that, and I really wouldn’t have time.”
“Shen Qu.”
“Hm?”
“…Never mind, I’m hanging up.” Chi Shuo desperately wanted to curse Shen Qu out, but ultimately decided against it.
She was afraid the petty Shen Qu would run to Lin Xinyue and report her for insulting a client.
After hanging up, Chi Shuo realized it was already 6 PM. She had slept straight through from 9 AM.
Chi Shuo rubbed her slightly swollen eyes and got up to go to the bathroom.
The cold sweat made her feel awful. After showering, Chi Shuo even tossed her pajamas, sheets, and duvet cover into the washing machine.
Dreaming about He Lindi being punished had nothing to do with her, yet she had sweated so much. Who would believe it?
But thinking back carefully, the grandfather’s low shout in the dream was indeed quite frightening.
Even knowing it was a dream, it felt terrifyingly real. Chi Shuo frowned as she showered, wondering what kind of situation He Lindi had actually faced in reality.
Chi Shuo didn’t go out on Saturday. She wasn’t invited out every weekend, even though Shen Qu had indeed called, wanting her to eat together.
But could she go? Of course not.
However, Chi Shuo still couldn’t escape meeting Shen Qu. Because the next morning, Sunday, Shen Qu called her again.
“You said ‘see you tomorrow’ yesterday.” Shen Qu’s words carried a certain forcefulness. “Hiding again today won’t cut it.”
Chi Shuo helplessly rubbed her forehead. “I’ll come after lunch.”
“That works too.”
“I’ll send you the address on WeChat. Come over after you eat.”
After hanging up, Chi Shuo received the address from Shen Qu. She clicked on it—an internet cafe.
Chi Shuo: …
Wasn’t she afraid the people at the internet cafe would surround her, demanding autographs one by one? And wouldn’t her ID card clearly state “Shen Qu”?
Chi Shuo was astonished. After all, Shen Qu’s fame was considerable now, ranking among the top three young actresses in the domestic entertainment industry. She had no negative press, and her current reputation was excellent.
Chi Shuo put on a round-neck sweater, then a down jacket, added a scarf and gloves. If not for her slender, straight legs, anyone seeing her might think she was a ball.
When she arrived at Qili Internet Cafe, it was already 3 PM. Shen Qu had booked a private room. Chi Shuo first registered her ID at the entrance, then was led to the private room door.
“Thanks,” Chi Shuo said to the attendant. Once the person left, she exhaled, turned the doorknob, and opened the door.
Upon entering, Chi Shuo felt tricked. Shen Qu had booked a couple’s room, not a regular private room.
The decor inside was very… suggestive. The wallpaper and the stickers on the computer desk exuded an erotic vibe.
Chi Shuo was speechless again.
Shen Qu’s face remained as thick-skinned as ever. She pointed to the seat beside her. “Quick, sit down. Play games with me.”
Chi Shuo ignored her command and went to sit on the small sofa to the side first.
There was a small coffee table in front of it, topped with a square box. Chi Shuo squinted.
Right, scan the QR code to pay for condoms.
Chi Shuo said, “I don’t play games.”
“Even better. We can explore together.”
Chi Shuo looked up at her. “Can you get to the point? I’m really busy.”
She didn’t believe Shen Qu had called her over just to kill time.
Sure enough, Shen Qu composed her expression, turned back to stare at the computer screen, and said word by word, “I want to quit the entertainment industry.”
Chi Shuo: “?”
Chi Shuo asked disbelievingly, “Why the sudden idea?”
“Not sudden.” Shen Qu corrected her. “I’ve thought about it for a long time.”
Chi Shuo was momentarily speechless, unsure what to say.
Honestly, she felt it was sudden. In the three years since their breakup, Shen Qu had instantly transformed into a big star. Chi Shuo had thought they would never cross paths again, yet during her business trip to Beijing, Shen Qu had called her out of the blue.
Despite such a long period without contact.
Shen Qu’s right hand rested on the mouse. She opened a video website; the homepage was still promoting the hit drama Urban Love Chronicle, starring her and Song Qin. She clicked on it, and an ad started playing first, but since the computer was connected to headphones, it was essentially a silent ad.
Chi Shuo didn’t know why she suddenly clicked on this, but she had no interest in asking. She was completely over Shen Qu.
“I…” Shen Qu said, “The doctor also suggested I put my career on hold first, focus on getting better.”
Shen Qu’s tone was relatively light. If not for the crucial content, it would be easy to miss the importance of what she was saying.
Chi Shuo pursed her lips and asked, “Depression?”
“Mm.”
Chi Shuo sighed. “I guessed you weren’t joking.”
When Shen Qu mentioned having depression before and asked Chi Shuo, “You really believed it?”, she seemed to be laughing at Chi Shuo on the surface, but Chi Shuo knew Shen Qu likely did have depression.
It wasn’t a guess, just that she understood Shen Qu well enough—Shen Qu was serious about everything except love.
Including acting. Back then, it was because she studied diligently that she earned the nomination for Best Supporting Actress at the Golden Tree Awards.
Shen Qu glanced at her, then returned her gaze to the drama playing on the screen. “So, I want to quit.”
“Retire completely, or just temporarily?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Discuss it with your company.”
“Mm.”
Chi Shuo didn’t speak again. She yawned and leaned against the sofa. “I want to take a nap.”
Shen Qu smiled slightly. “Didn’t sleep well?”
“Mm.” As Chi Shuo replied, He Lindi’s face flashed through her mind.
Shen Qu asked her again, “Working and living here, do you feel lonely? Many of our classmates work in Lucheng.”
Chi Shuo snorted lightly. “It’s not like I can’t make new friends.” She scoffed, “Who are you looking down on?”
Seeing Chi Shuo like this, Shen Qu’s lips curved again. “Speaking of which, my photographer friend, He Lindi, you could add her as a friend. She went to university in Lucheng too, right across from our school.”
Chi Shuo: “…”
Shen Qu was excited, speaking with enthusiasm. “She was quite famous in our area back then. Have you heard of her?”
Chi Shuo didn’t answer, her brow furrowing. “What are you doing? Trying to be a matchmaker?” She finished, then felt it wasn’t right. “Ugh, a connector.”
“…”
“Why are you so worked up?”
Chi Shuo maintained her expression. “Just find you nosy and annoying.”
“Tsk—”
Facts proved that as long as you weren’t romantically involved with Shen Qu, getting along with her was quite comfortable.
She wasn’t that gentle, but she was meticulous and considerate of others in many ways.
But as a lover, she was terrible. Who could stand her dating multiple people at once?!
Shen Qu had called her out just to talk. Beyond that, there was nothing else, nor did she make things difficult.
Before parting, Chi Shuo felt puzzled. On the street, looking at the masked Shen Qu, she asked, “When you used your ID at the internet cafe, didn’t anyone recognize you?”
“My assistant’s ID.”
“…”
Less than two minutes later, a car pulled up in front of them.
Shen Qu curved her eyes slightly. “Thank you, Chi Shuo, for being willing to listen to me.”
Chi Shuo waved her hand dismissively. “Just hurry up and go.”
Once the car disappeared from sight, Chi Shuo sighed. She didn’t know if she was just too broad-minded, actually able to get along so harmoniously with her cheating ex-girlfriend. The scene felt somewhat baffling even to herself.
And once Shen Qu left, Chi Shuo didn’t know what to do. Her past two days had indeed been rather chaotic.
She walked aimlessly down the street. She hadn’t worn her scarf, just draped it over her arm. The cold wind found its chance, drilling inwards. Her neck, collarbone, and ears were all slightly red from the cold.
After a while, she realized she had walked to the entrance of the restaurant where Xia Zhou had her birthday dinner.
The long bench under the tree was still there, quietly watching the bustling street.
Chi Shuo tightened her clothes and sat down on it. She opened her phone, clicked into Weibo, browsed her feed, then closed it again.
She lifted her head, closed her eyes, thought for a moment, then sent a WeChat message to He Lindi: 【Teacher He, do you plan to go back to Lucheng?】
She had already cleared her chat history with He Lindi. Now, looking at this single line, she didn’t feel awkward, as if they had just met.
And this time, she received He Lindi’s reply: 【Yes.】
Chi Shuo was about to ask when, then saw He Lindi’s next message: 【When you’ve mastered photography, we’ll go.】
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