Jiang Hanguang had been trying to calm down the rampaging Lu Sigui, but the woman who had been baring her fangs and claws suddenly fell silent, staring at the large screen with a puzzled expression. Jiang Hanguang turned her head as well, only to be immediately confronted by her own name.
Comment 1: Ladies, search “Difficult to Walk in the World” on Flying Pigeon for a surprise! As a Mo Yan book fan, I’m in tears! I’m begging you, please go watch it, boo hoo hoo!
Comment 2: I’ve seen it. To be honest, seeing how Jiang Hanguang looks versus how I look, I think Nuwa owes me an explanation.
Comment 3: Absolutely gorgeous. That scene where she’s sent flying by the female lead, spitting blood with tears in her eyes… I just want to hug her.
Comment 4: I actually want to bully her more. Uh, let me say something outrageous: Miss Jiang’s aura really tends to stir up one’s desire to conquer and torment (I don’t mean I’d actually do anything, so please don’t attack me).
Comment 5: The person above me is a psycho.
Comment 6: And Lang Wenxing’s fans still have the nerve to say Jiang Hanguang seduced their idol? With looks like hers, forget a second marriage—even a tenth would be her marrying down, okay?
Comment 7: Let me tell you a horror story: Jiang Hanguang is thirty this year.
Comment 8: Is this some kind of “get 12 years off for turning 30” super sale? So jealous.
Comment 9: Just a passerby, no offense intended, but I just want to ask: if Jiang Hanguang’s acting is this good, why were all her scenes cut?
Comment 10: Heh, do you even need to ask? She was blocking someone’s path.
Comment 11: Mo Yan is so beautiful, who would want to watch that psycho in the white robe? Anyone who does must have a warped sense of aesthetics.
Comment 12: A friend of mine is a cameraman on the set of 《White Robe》. I heard Hua Ran bullied Jiang Hanguang on set every day, deliberately causing NGs for her scenes, and then had them all cut.
Comment 13: That’s so evil, isn’t it? She can’t act well herself, so she won’t let others? I’ve decided to go curse her out a bit more.
Comment 14: Am I the only one wondering why Cheng Ying would post an edit of Jiang Hanguang’s deleted scenes?
Comment 15: To the person above, you’ve hit on the key point. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Cheng Ying repost anything related to Xu Ning these past few days. Could it be…
What on earth was going on?
Jiang Hanguang, the center of the topic, was still in a daze. Lu Sigui had already picked up her phone and searched for “Difficult to Walk in the World.” “Hey, it really is you!”
Jiang Hanguang followed the sound and looked at the phone in Lu Sigui’s hand. The version of herself she was so familiar with, yet had never been able to see on screen, happened to meet her gaze.
The song echoed through the small living room, the singer crooning softly, in a tone that was both a sigh and an expression of pity.
“I once dreamed of being born to a happy home, and wished to roam the world with friends, sword in hand. Yet in this world, things go against one’s wishes nine times out of ten.”
The visuals for this part showed Mo Yan first entering the immortal sect, gaining hope, only to gradually lose it.
“White robes purer than snow, stained with the blood of my heart. Unparalleled talent, became but dust in my eyes.”
After meeting the woman in white, the distortion in Mo Yan’s heart intensified. For the first time, she tampered with the female lead’s medicinal soup, and from it, she felt the pleasure of wickedness.
“All is vanity; good and evil will eventually be repaid.”
Mo Yan was expelled from her sect, the frame freezing on her face, which was filled with hatred and despair.
The song, too, was reaching its end.
“A heart born of mire, how can it not be stained by dust? No one taught me goodness, no one saved me from my suffering.”
“Hellfire burns, the road ahead is long. It is difficult to walk in this world; my heart is like iron.”
Mo Yan walked alone down the long road from the mountain. But by now, she was no longer in pain, nor was she lost.
All she had was a monstrous hatred, a debt she would slowly collect from the world.
Jiang Hanguang’s gaze was locked firmly on the screen, her breath held.
The song seemed to transport her back to when she was playing Mo Yan. Despite the many unpleasantries on set, she could still enjoy the pleasure of creation, at least when she was acting as Mo Yan.
Mo Yan was, of course, a villain. No matter her grievances, someone who harmed her fellow disciples without reason was not worthy of sympathy.
But she didn’t think of herself as evil; or rather, in her heart, everything she did was justified.
She didn’t dare to defy her own terrible family, so she instead unleashed her accumulated malice upon the innocent woman in white.
It was as if that girl, who had everything, had stolen everything from her.
That was why she harmed others with such self-righteousness. Even after being expelled from the sect for it, she remained unrepentant, instead growing to resent the entire world.
When Jiang Hanguang played the role, she had followed Mo Yan’s psychological journey.
This song did the same.
What was remarkable was that every line of the lyrics struck a chord in Jiang Hanguang’s heart with unerring accuracy.
It was as if someone had condensed the character biography she had written for Mo Yan into this short song.
Like high mountains and flowing water, a true kindred spirit is hard to find.
An author hopes to find readers who understand them, and an actor naturally craves a good audience.
And the creator of this video, relying only on those fragments, had pieced together the Mo Yan that existed in her heart.
To call them a kindred spirit might be a slight exaggeration, but they were undoubtedly the best audience she had ever encountered.
In truth, from the moment the song began, Jiang Hanguang had recognized Cheng Ying’s voice.
Boss Cheng’s usually carefree, light, and warm voice, when deliberately lowered, became surprisingly deep and melodious.
Did she write the lyrics, too?
“Hanguang? Hanguang?” Lu Sigui turned off the video. Seeing Jiang Hanguang’s brow slightly furrowed, lost in thought, she raised her voice and called her name twice.
“What is it?” Jiang Hanguang finally snapped back to reality.
“You’re on the trending chart! Number two!” Lu Sigui slammed her hand on the table, making the clay pot on it shake violently.
Startled by the jolt, Jiang Hanguang finally remembered to pull out her phone and check her Flying Pigeon account.
She saw the numbers for comments and followers on the screen skyrocketing crazily.
Jiang Hanguang’s last Flying Pigeon post was a selfie she had taken when she joined the cast of 《White Robe》. It was her habit to commemorate important events.
The comments below had originally been dominated by Lang Wenxing’s toxic solo stans, calling her indecent or a toad lusting after a swan’s flesh.
Now, those comments were long buried under an overwhelming flood of praise and confessions.
Jiang Hanguang stared at the comments calling her “wife” and felt a surge of panic.
She didn’t know what to do. When she had acted in 《South Wind》, she hadn’t been signed to an agency, so no one had ever taught her how to handle this.
Her phone suddenly buzzed, and Jiang Hanguang’s hand trembled so much she nearly dropped it. The caller ID on the screen read—Boss Cheng.
The moment she saw the name, the panic in her heart subsided slightly, replaced by a faint sense of reassurance.
She made a gesture to Lu Sigui and walked out to the balcony to answer the call.
“Hello, Miss Jiang?” Cheng Ying’s voice, tinged with its usual hint of frivolity, came through the receiver.
“Hello, Boss Cheng,” Jiang Hanguang replied politely. She found it difficult to connect this voice with that of the singer in the video.
The sound of a keyboard tapping could be heard from Cheng Ying’s end. “Have you seen Flying Pigeon?”
“Yes, I just saw it… That video, did you make it?” Jiang Hanguang asked, switching back to the Flying Pigeon page. In just that short while, her name had already surpassed 《White Robe》 in the trending topics.
This was the kind of top-tier popularity, with all benefits and no drawbacks, that countless celebrities dreamed of.
“Ah, I’ve been busy with this for the past two days, so I haven’t contacted you about work. But you were supposed to be taking a good rest anyway, so just think of it as a vacation.”
But Cheng Ying’s tone was as casual as ever, as if she had just done a small, perfectly ordinary task.
Cheng Ying’s nonchalance made it impossible for Jiang Hanguang to say the words “thank you.”
A strange sense of shame was swirling in her heart.
Just when she had started to think Cheng Ying had forgotten her, the woman had silently delivered such a grand gift.
She had never expected anything, because no one had ever met her expectations.
And now, even if she could say “thank you,” the words felt far too inadequate.
Miss Jiang, who had never been “courted” in this way, was momentarily at a loss for how to express her gratitude.
Cheng Ying seemed oblivious to her tumultuous thoughts and continued, “This wave of popularity will last for a while. Post something on Flying Pigeon in a bit to satisfy everyone’s pent-up desire for praise.”
“Okay… what would be best for me to post?” A production still, a selfie, or a long, heartfelt essay? Jiang Hanguang tried to recall the posts she’d seen from other celebrities about their roles, but she couldn’t grasp the knack of it and had to ask for guidance.
“Heh.” Cheng Ying chuckled softly, an image of Miss Jiang’s tense face flashing in her mind, making her want to tease her a little. “I told you not to be nervous. Right now, you could post a rap with no rhymes and they’d still think you were a stunning talent. The beginning of a love affair is always the most wonderful part. But to keep them from getting tired of you too quickly, don’t pour your heart out just yet. What do they call that? The half-sugar theory of love?”
“…” Jiang Hanguang, who had never been in a relationship, could only listen quietly.
But then Cheng Ying suddenly changed the subject. “What did you have for dinner?”
Jiang Hanguang glanced back at the half-eaten fish in the clay pot. “Stewed crucian carp.”
“Post a picture of that. Any old caption will do,” Cheng Ying said casually. “By the way, how is the security where you live? There will probably be a lot of paparazzi squatting outside your place soon, so be careful.”
“It should be fine,” Jiang Hanguang replied. Her residential complex was considered housing for the families of retired officials. Although it was in an older district, the security was excellent, and most of the residents were elderly people who were unlikely to recognize her.
“Then stay there for now. You’ll have work in a couple of days. Save up some money and buy a place in the new city district when the time comes,” Cheng Ying said.
“Okay,” Jiang Hanguang nodded, a strange feeling in her heart. Cheng Ying, caring for her with such meticulous detail, reminded her of her grandmother, even though Cheng Ying was clearly much younger than her.
Was this the kind of relationship an artist and their agent were supposed to have?
“Alright, that’s all for now. Contact me anytime if anything comes up.” Cheng Ying prepared to hang up.
“Um… wait.” Sensing that Cheng Ying was about to hang up, Jiang Hanguang subconsciously stopped her.
If she didn’t manage to say thank you today, she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep.
“Hm?” Cheng Ying uttered a single, questioning syllable.
Jiang Hanguang’s hand unconsciously stroked the balcony railing, her full, rosy lips pressed together.
A polite thank you was easy to say, not worth agonizing over. But once her own feelings were involved, Jiang Hanguang couldn’t help but want to retreat and escape.
She was too accustomed to hiding herself, so much so that even uttering a harmless word to someone outside her fortress required immense hesitation.
If Cheng Ying were to hang up impatiently right now, it would, in a way, be a relief for her.
But Cheng Ying, on the other end of the line, seemed to know everything. She neither interrupted nor hung up.
After a brief yet endless silence, not wanting to waste any more of Cheng Ying’s time, Jiang Hanguang finally forced a low, slow thank you from her throat.
“It might not mean much, but I still have to thank you.”
Thank you for not breaking your promise, and thank you for taking my affairs to heart.
The woman’s kitten-like words of thanks fell on Cheng Ying’s ears like the light brush of a feather.
It was both ticklish and pleasant.
An unprecedented sense of accomplishment suddenly bloomed in Cheng Ying’s heart, completely different from how she had felt with Bai Ruo or Xu Ning.
She was only now realizing how ridiculously wrong she had been before.
The easier something is to obtain, the cheaper it feels.
The more precious the flower, the greater the sense of accomplishment in nurturing it.
Jiang Hanguang was like a tightly sealed box. Forcing it open would lead to mutual destruction, but if you had the patience to undo the lock, bit by bit…
…every little thing that leaked out was vivid and endearing.
Earning her complete trust would be like possessing the treasure within entirely.
A treasure that, perhaps, no one had ever obtained before.
That would surely be an incredibly pleasant affair.
Cheng Ying couldn’t help but chuckle, shamelessly pressing her advantage. “If Miss Jiang truly wants to thank me, how about we change how we address each other? What kind of artist keeps calling their agent so formally? And I don’t want to keep calling you Miss Jiang, either.”
Without waiting for a response, she called out on her own, “Hanguang?”
She uttered the two syllables in a low voice. When they reached Jiang Hanguang’s ears, it was as if someone had pressed against the bone of her ear and whispered her name, making her heart skip a beat.
Jiang Hanguang’s ears grew warm. After a moment of struggle, she cautiously called out, “Xiao Ying?”
“Yes~” Cheng Ying’s smile was brighter than if she’d successfully engineered a trending topic. “Now that we’ve changed how we address each other, there’s no need for thanks anymore. I’m your agent; isn’t it only natural that I do these things for you? I only do well when you do well. We’re a team, after all.”
“Mmm…”
How could anything in this world be taken for granted? After all, even one’s own family would use you as a bargaining chip.
Jiang Hanguang lowered her eyes slightly but still agreed with Cheng Ying.
But at least for now, she was unwilling to shatter this dream.
The dream that someone in this world would stand by her side, unconditionally and forever.
After the call ended, Jiang Hanguang gazed out the window at the curtain of night sky and the bright, clear moon suspended within it, wondering if Cheng Ying was also looking at that same moon.
It felt as if, after so many years, she had finally established that fragile connection with another person once again.
They were in this together.
From the living room, Lu Sigui looked toward the balcony, seeing only Jiang Hanguang’s slender back. The night wind pressed the woman’s gray cotton loungewear against her body, outlining her elegant curves.
She was looking up at the moon, and Lu Sigui could only imagine how beautiful the moonlight must be, reflected on her face.
What was Jiang Hanguang thinking? And who had called her?
Lu Sigui lowered her head and took a large gulp of soup.
