Four months later.
The sky hadn’t fully brightened yet when the telephone in the Wen family’s little sitting room began ringing nonstop.
The first call was from Gao Xiaowen.
“I heard your film is about to wrap?”
Wen Tingli made a face like she’d seen a ghost. “Why are you up so early today?”
Gao Xiaowen yawned. “It’s only because if I called any later I’d never catch you. Hey, about your film—I’ve heard quite a bit of buzz in the industry lately, people in the business say you’ve been outstanding in every single scene, and they’re convinced this picture will be a huge hit once it releases. Did the ‘Xiao Tianxi’ company come find you in advance yesterday? Wen Tingli, I’m warning you, you promised early on to advertise my Aoshuang face cream for free.”
Wen Tingli didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “The company that wants me is for a face powder ad, it’s got nothing to do with your Aoshuang face cream. Don’t worry, in at least two scenes of the film I use your Aoshuang face cream on camera, and once the film wraps, I’ll shoot you a proper ad for free, how’s that?”
“That’ll do. Oh, right, next week is Sister Qinfang’s birthday, and Xinxin Department Store will definitely be holding an evening banquet for it. Remember to arrange your schedule ahead of time to attend the birthday party—Sister Qinfang’s whole circle of friends has been wanting to meet you for ages.”
Wen Tingli agreed at once. She’d always gotten along well with Dong Qinfang—back when her father passed away, Dong Qinfang had helped her out in all sorts of ways, and she’d kept that debt of gratitude in her heart ever since.
She’d just hung up when Huang Yuanshan’s little assistant—also the crew’s assistant director, Tan Guiwang—called again.
“Little Wen, Sister Huang wants me to tell you the set has some issues with it, they’re busy right now getting technicians to fix it urgently, your scene probably won’t shoot until around eleven, no need to come as early as usual.”
“Got it.”
After these two calls, Wen Tingli blew hot breath on her frozen hands. Since she was already up, going back to bed seemed a shame, so she simply grabbed her book bag and went out the door.
Finals were coming up soon, and she’d decided to use these few hours to go to school and study—the school library was much quieter than home.
The moment she stepped out, a cold north wind blew straight at her face. In the blink of an eye it was already December, and the weather was getting colder and colder—the branches of the parasol trees along the road were hung with icicles.
Standing on the steps, she felt momentarily lost as usual—that wistful feeling still lived somewhere deep in her heart, only it wasn’t as strong anymore; it would surge up for a few seconds and then vanish on its own. She took a deep breath where she stood, pulled her coat tighter, and went down the steps.
In late September, Hujiang University had officially begun its term, and as a new incoming student, Wen Tingli’s life had formally opened a new Wen Ci Yi Sheng – Chapter. At the time, Southern Beauty had only been filming for a little over twenty days, with completion still nowhere in sight. Taking the school’s views into consideration, on her very first day of registration she’d proactively reported the matter to the registrar’s office.
At first the registrar’s office was unwilling to allow it. Even though Wen Tingli repeatedly stressed that Golden Film Studios was a legitimate company, the school had also investigated and learned that Wen Tingli was an orphan with heavy family burdens, and that filming was merely a means to raise tuition money.
But after all, filming took a long time, and while delaying schoolwork was one concern, as the school administration they also had to consider certain social implications.
Hearing of this, Huang Yuanshan brought Chairman Weng of the Shanghai Film Association to the school to advocate on her behalf. They initially met with plenty of resistance, but eventually found their way to the vice-principal in charge of discipline, who turned things around. This vice-principal happened to be a longtime classmate of Chairman Weng’s, and personally loved watching films—he’d always been inclined to support the local film industry. Once he confirmed that the film Wen Tingli was shooting was a socially meaningful art film, he finally softened his stance somewhat.
After several rounds of effort, the school ultimately approved Wen Tingli’s request to continue filming, on the condition that she not fail any classes at the end of the term.
To make this happen, Wen Tingli studied in every spare moment she could find, and to accommodate her schoolwork, Huang Yuanshan also went out of her way, under pressure, to arrange things conveniently for her—scheduling all of Wen Tingli’s major scenes on days she had no classes, while ordinary scenes were uniformly scheduled after school let out, filming straight from five in the afternoon until eleven or twelve at night.
Fortunately the first semester’s coursework wasn’t too heavy, and Wen Tingli managed to grit her teeth through this grueling workload.
But even so, there were times she nearly couldn’t keep up.
For instance, last week, Wen Tingli forgot to turn in her math homework because she’d gone with the crew to Wuxi to shoot location scenes. And another time, the philosophy professor who never usually took attendance suddenly decided to do a roll call in class, and that day she happened to be reshooting a scene with the crew and unluckily couldn’t make it. The professor announced on the spot that missing class twice cumulatively would count as failing, which so frightened Wen Tingli that from then on, she never dared miss philosophy class again, no matter whose class she had to skip instead.
Beyond this, every month she also had to somehow find time to go practice marksmanship and combat skills with Li Chengying.
Juggling these three fronts, the film that was originally supposed to wrap in three months had dragged on for four months and still wasn’t finished.
Fortunately, even the longest road has an end. Just two more scenes and this film would wrap. The thought filled her with indescribable excitement.
At half past ten, Wen Tingli arrived at the set by company car, and the moment she walked in she saw her crewmates buzzing excitedly about something.
“Miss Wen, you’re just in time, everyone’s discussing which restaurant to book for the wrap party.”
Everyone clearly seemed in high spirits, and Wen Tingli joined in eagerly. “Why not go to Changxing Restaurant for some Gaoqiao-style local dishes? Their braised fish is famous!”
Someone immediately agreed. “Miss Wen and I are thinking alike—I’ve eaten there too, it’s wonderful!”
After chatting a bit more, Wen Tingli went off alone to drop off her bag.
When she’d first joined the company, she’d had to share a large dressing room with others—everything inconvenient. But now, she had her own private dressing room; though small, it had everything she needed. As usual, she locked her bag away in the cabinet, closed the door behind her, and went to chat with the senior actors in the other dressing rooms.
“Sister Wen, try this powder cream—my friend Miss Gao’s company makes it, the texture is even finer than what Yanzhi Lin sells.”
“There you go again. Fine, fine, I’ll listen to you, we’ll try it right now.” Wen Guanhua handed the cream to her makeup artist with a helpless smile.
At that moment several young actors came in and, seeing this, asked curiously, “Wen Tingli, what good stuff are you handing out?”
Compared to when she’d first joined the crew, everyone’s attitude toward Wen Tingli had grown noticeably warmer.
Partly this was because these past months Wen Tingli had shown an extraordinary work ethic—whenever she had a scene, she was punctual without fail, and more often than not nailed it in one take, rarely fumbling lines or missing the emotional beat.
No one in this world dislikes someone both clever and hardworking.
On the other hand, even people with no eye for talent could now see that Wen Tingli was going to become a rising star. As filming on Southern Beauty progressed, the company’s upper management had grown more and more impressed with, and attentive to, Wen Tingli.
From initially paying no attention at all to her life outside the set, they’d gone to the point of proactively assigning her a private car and driver.
After that, although Wen Tingli still commuted daily between Hujiang University and the film set, at least it wasn’t as exhausting as before, since her driver was basically on call whenever she needed him.
Everyone had watched all these changes take place. In how they treated Wen Tingli now, beyond genuine sincerity there was also some worldly calculation—some private gatherings that had never before considered inviting newcomers now invited Wen Tingli along too, and on set, several of the veteran actors treated her rather warmly as well.
Wen Tingli generously brought her face close for everyone to inspect. “It’s face cream, my friend’s company makes it. This is what I’ve got on today—see, isn’t it thin and sheer?”
Everyone crowded around chattering, examining her makeup.
After chatting and laughing while handing out the cream, Wen Tingli went back to her own dressing room. By now the crew was either busy with makeup or up front discussing the group dinner, and she didn’t run into a single colleague on her way back.
Just as she turned the corner, she saw someone rushing frantically down the far end of the corridor, and when the person looked up and saw Wen Tingli, her expression turned as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Miss Luo?!” Wen Tingli eyed her sidelong.
It was Luo Shuhong.
Back then, Deng Tianxing had hired someone to sabotage her precisely to help Luo Shuhong win the role of Nan Qi, but in the end, not only had Deng Tianxing failed to win Luo Shuhong’s favor, he’d also been blacklisted from the entire film industry.
After that, Deng Tianxing had remained more or less unemployed for a long stretch. For the first few months people had seen him gambling at the No. 181 Club (note), but after that no one had seen him at all.
Luo Shuhong, meanwhile, was still shooting films at the company, only every time she ran into Wen Tingli she seemed somewhat uneasy, and Wen Tingli couldn’t be bothered to pay her much attention.
After a brief moment of panic, Luo Shuhong quickly steadied herself.
She didn’t explain why she’d been in this area, instead asking quite naturally,
“Has everyone decided where to eat?”
Wen Tingli, her expression cool, brushed past her. “I heard it’s Changxing Restaurant.”
Once Luo Shuhong had left, Wen Tingli, her face darkening, checked her dressing room. The drawer was still locked, everything in her bag was there, including her handgun—everything was in place, and even her clothes showed no sign of having been rifled through.
But she still couldn’t shake her misgivings, and stood there frowning in thought for a moment before someone came looking for her. “Miss Wen, Boss Liu wants to see you.”
Wen Tingli hurriedly switched to a smiling face and said “coming.” Stepping out, she saw Huang Yuanshan and head boss Liu Menglin’s group.
Boss Liu, a cigar tucked in one hand, waved her over. “Come here. Yuanmeng Company heard our new film is about to wrap and wants a female star to shoot an ad for their new product—the product’s a bicycle, the pay’s quite good. I had the ad department recommend you. If they can finalize things tomorrow, we’ll sign the contract right away. What do you think?”
Wen Tingli’s heart leapt with joy, but she kept her expression composed on the surface. “Whatever the company arranges is fine by me.”
Boss Liu turned to the people beside him with a laugh. “Look at that, a real sly one. Born to be a star.”
Everyone present laughed, Huang Yuanshan included—ever since the film had smoothly reached its final stretch, her mood had visibly improved day by day. She laughed and picked up the thread. “Come in early tomorrow morning—the Zhensheng Evening News is doing a feature interview with you, I’ll be there to help keep things in check.”
“An interview—with me?”
“You’re the female lead of this film, is it strange that they’d want to interview you?”
Wen Tingli’s heart pounded rapidly.
She’d underestimated Golden Film Studios’ influence in the industry—the film hadn’t even released yet, and it seemed like all the world’s camera flashes were already pointed at her—ads, interviews… this left her both at a loss and stirred a strong, novel thrill inside her.
No wonder so many people in this world were infatuated with fame and fortune—this thing really seemed to be addictive.
To think that before she’d even properly entered the film set, her greatest interest had simply been getting paid.
But now she vaguely realized: wrapping the film wasn’t an endpoint for her—it was an entirely new starting point.
Huang Yuanshan waved a hand in front of Wen Tingli’s eyes and laughed. “What are you spacing out for? Remember to come in early tomorrow.”
The next day at noon, Wen Tingli rode with Huang Yuanshan to the Deauville Hotel for the Zhensheng Evening News interview.
This location had been designated by Huang Yuanshan in advance—she liked chatting with journalists over food in a hotel restaurant, saying that this setting made for the most relaxed interviews.
At the table, Wen Tingli didn’t ramble on eloquently—only when the interviewer specifically directed a question at her did she respond, with a touch of wit each time.
Huang Yuanshan was quite satisfied with Wen Tingli’s sharp instincts.
By the time the interview ended, it was already dusk. As the group came out of the hotel, the photographer, seeing the sunset was just right, had a sudden inspiration and asked to take a few backlit photos of Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan on the sidewalk out front.
This was a shooting technique currently in vogue in Hollywood, and neither Wen Tingli nor Huang Yuanshan was one to be coy, so they agreed on the spot.
This naturally drew the curiosity of passersby, and quite a few people stopped to watch, someone asking quietly, “Who’s that star getting photographed over there?”
“Looks a bit familiar, can’t place the name. I heard she’s a newcomer from Golden Film Studios, has a film coming out soon.”
“Oh! Could it be that Southern Beauty that’s been all the talk lately?”
Across the street, in an unremarkable corner, a car sat quietly parked. Seeing this, someone inside gave a cold snort.
“Look at her, all glowing with pride—about to become a big star, is she? Never thought the Wen family’s ancestors would finally send up some good fortune!”
Another person in the car put on a smile and said to Qiu Dapeng, “Hall Master Qiu, the matter you asked me to investigate has turned up something. That gambling debt, you see—”
Qiu Dapeng snuffed out his cigarette butt and said slowly, “Little Deng, that gambling debt of yours isn’t small change. You owe ten thousand silver dollars at Club 181, and another five thousand on credit at Boss Chen’s Tongxingfang. Do you think that scrap of news you’ve got is worth fifteen thousand silver dollars in debt?”
Deng Tianxing swallowed his pride and pleaded, “Hall Master Qiu, you’re a man of standing in the Bailong Gang—if you just say the word, never mind fifteen thousand silver dollars, even five hundred thousand could be wiped clean. You know I had my own glory days too—if that Lu fellow hadn’t been so ruthless, would I have ended up like this?”
Qiu Dapeng patted Deng Tianxing’s shoulder amiably. “Mr. Deng, you may have misunderstood. I couldn’t care less about your past. All I care about is whether you can dig up any more useful information from Wen Tingli’s side.”
Deng Tianxing looked troubled. “Wen Tingli is extremely careful. That friend of mine went to a lot of trouble but couldn’t find anything useful. She’s a young lady from a good family after all—having her keep risking herself to steal things from someone else’s place doesn’t seem quite appropriate.”
A flash of severity crossed Qiu Dapeng’s eyes. “What do you take the Bailong Gang for? How dare you ramble on like that in front of me! Right now, all I care about is who fired those hidden shots at my son. I’ll give you three days—bring me something genuinely useful, or else—”
Deng Tianxing’s body shuddered, and he gritted his teeth. “I’ll think of something!”
After Deng Tianxing left, Qiu Dapeng once again shot a knife-like gaze across the street at Wen Tingli.
He’d never expected this matter, traced to its end, would lead right to Wen Tingli.
Originally he’d never suspected Wen Tingli at all—after all, he’d watched her grow up, and he’d never before heard that she knew how to use a gun. So even upon learning she’d been seen together with Lu Shicheng, it had never occurred to him that his son’s ambush could have anything to do with her.
Fortunately heaven had eyes—that day at Club 181 he happened to overhear this fellow surnamed Deng mention something…
Around that time, the man surnamed Deng, having just been driven out of the film industry by the Lu family, was spending his remaining money loitering in gambling dens all day.
The day he went to Club 181, he happened to run into Deng Tianxing in a fight with another patron, who apparently knew a bit about the inside story of Deng Tianxing being expelled from Golden Film Studios, and mocked him to his face as a fool—a grown man scheming against a young girl, and on top of failing, getting blacklisted by the entire film industry. A man like that had no business trying his luck at the gambling tables either—better off getting out while he could.
Deng Tianxing, furious, cursed back: “You’re talking about Wen Tingli? If I hadn’t gone easy back then, she’d never have gotten to be the female lead.”
Hearing the name “Wen Tingli,” Qiu Dapeng quickly had his men pull the two apart, then bought a few extra stacks of chips and gave them to Deng Tianxing, feigning concern and asking what had happened.
Bold as Deng Tianxing was, he still didn’t dare stonewall someone from the Bailong Gang, and haltingly recounted what had happened that day.
“My man’s a big strapping fellow—he shoved her down a flight of stairs that tall, and even if she didn’t break a bone, her face should’ve been ruined, but the very next day she showed up at the company for the screen test like nothing had happened. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you, this Wen girl?”
Something stirred in Qiu Dapeng’s mind. “You suspect she has some skill?”
Deng Tianxing shook his head. “I don’t know, but according to my man, this girl’s reflexes were unusually fast, and she really knows how to protect herself—tumbling down more than twenty steps and not even losing a tooth. If she hadn’t learned some combat skill, who’d believe that?”
Qiu Dapeng’s mind reeled. Could it be that this child, shaken by what happened to her own father, had secretly sought out some master to train under?
He’d known early on that Wen Tingli’s newly rented apartment wasn’t far from where the incident had occurred, but at the time he’d never connected that with his son’s injury at all.
And around that period he’d been busy tending to his badly injured son, with no time to spare for investigation. Now, thinking it over carefully, perhaps Wen Tingli wasn’t as innocent as she appeared on the surface. If she’d secretly learned some skills, or even knew people in the underworld, then she’d have had every opportunity, after shooting Lingyun, to quietly smuggle Lu Shicheng out. If she had accomplices, all of this would have been even easier to pull off.
No wonder that not long after, Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng had openly become an item.
The timing was just too convenient!
The more Qiu Dapeng thought about it, the more his theory seemed to hold together, and the more he thought about it, the more his hatred boiled over. Thanks to those two hidden shots that night, his son was now reduced to a useless invalid confined to bed.
And here she was, Wen Tingli, thriving and doing so well for herself! His lungs were nearly bursting with rage!
He bared a mouth of yellowed teeth in a sinister smile toward the figure across the street. No rush—the day he had everything figured out would be this little tramp’s death day!
Just you wait!
That evening, Wen Tingli came home from school and, without even stopping for a sip of water, rushed straight into her bedroom to grab something.
“Are you off to the set? Take the boxed meal on the table,” Zhou Sao called after her.
“No, it’s Miss Dong of Xinxin Department Store’s birthday, I need to go wish her happy birthday.” Wen Tingli found the birthday gift she’d prepared for Dong Qinfang, and hurriedly sat down in front of the mirror to fix her hair.
As she combed, her gaze drifted to the phone in the sitting room. That suspicious behavior from Luo Shuhong earlier in the day—in her view, someone was likely up to something behind the scenes—but this time she wasn’t going to wait for the other party to slip up on their own; she was going to take the initiative.
She’d just finished a call with Li Chengying when Zhou Sao came over and handed Wen Tingli a stack of newspapers.
“Take a look at this. These past few days I’ve asked around the neighbors, and everyone says there’s no decent kindergarten (note) nearby. But yesterday evening I ran into Mrs. Liu across the way, and she told me she’d happened to see a few kindergarten enrollment ads while reading the paper—one of them, Yangzhen Kindergarten, is run by the Commercial Press, very proper, and importantly it’s not too far from here. She told me to bring the paper to show you.”
Wen Tingli happily took the newspaper. After the New Year, Xiao Taozi would turn four by the lunar count, and with Zhou Sao unable to read, always keeping her cooped up at home wasn’t a long-term solution—she needed to find a kindergarten for Xiao Taozi as soon as possible that could teach her.
Sure enough, there was an enrollment notice for Yangzhen Kindergarten in the classifieds section. She quickly jotted down the contact information, then said to Zhou Sao, “Mrs. Liu’s probably not back from work yet—there are a few boxes of chocolate and black tea in the cabinet from the foreign goods store, bring those along when you go, and give them to her. Mrs. Liu has quite Western tastes, she’s sure to like this gift—just tell her it’s my idea, to thank her for the information.”
Zhou Sao agreed, and Wen Tingli was about to put the newspaper away when she suddenly noticed a notice on the right-hand page.
[The Shanghai Foreign Merchants’ Chamber of Commerce will hold its annual meeting on January 1st of the solar new year, to be personally presided over by Chairman Lu. Location: XX Road, XX Hotel. All members of society are welcome to attend.]
Wen Tingli’s heart clenched violently.
She was apparently allergic to the character “Lu”—just seeing this notice made her head spin.
But she calmed herself quickly—perhaps it was only Old Master Lu who’d returned. After all, however much influence the Lu family held in Shanghai, given Lu Shicheng’s age and seniority, he couldn’t possibly be chairman of the Foreign Merchants’ Chamber of Commerce yet.
Besides, even if it really was Lu Shicheng who’d come back, what did that have to do with her.
She tossed the newspaper back onto the coffee table without a second thought.