After the funeral was over, Xi Tang returned to Hengdian.

Following her mother’s death, Huang Xi Tang continued working for nearly two months, as she couldn’t stop the contracts she had already signed. In the production crew, her expression gradually became numb, and she began gaining weight. Her costumes were tailor-made, and the costume designer had to alter the waistline twice.

Ni Kai Lun came over, slipping red envelopes to the costume designer and offering cigarettes to the cinematographer, asking them to make her look thinner on camera.

After filming wrapped up, the New Year was approaching. Ni Kai Lun canceled a large amount of her work. Huang Xi Tang’s face had started to become puffy, and after returning to the house she shared with her mother, she never went out again.

After pausing her filming work, Xi Tang fell into depression. With nowhere to release her grief, her long-suppressed appetite completely exploded. She began eating frantically. At first, Ni Kai Lun was sympathetic and tolerant but gradually discovered that she seemed to have no sense of taste, constantly stuffing food into her mouth, and only eating those foods she wasn’t normally allowed—fried chicken nuggets, large french fries, heavily creamed cakes, oily spicy skewers. Within a week, her face was oily, her forehead covered with pimples, and she was completely wooden, having lost all her sparkle.

Ni Kai Lun decisively sent her assistant A Kuan to stay at her home and watch over her. A Kuan threw away all her takeout food. Huang Xi Tang resisted as if she’d gone mad, but even if she ate for another year, she was no match for A Kuan, who quickly pinned her to the sofa.

Huang Xi Tang completely gave in.

During the day when A Kuan came to work, Xi Tang slept in her room. She started eating bland boiled vegetables on schedule for her three meals, but often couldn’t eat much because she had no appetite. Yet she was still gaining weight.

Ni Kai Lun became very suspicious. After putting her child to bed one night, she went to Xi Tang’s home and saw a figure quietly opening the refrigerator door. Ni Kai Lun followed behind her: “Have you gone crazy?”

Huang Xi Tang ignored her and stuffed chocolate into her mouth.

Ni Kai Lun was furious. She yanked her away and slapped her across the face, then began throwing the food from the refrigerator into a garbage bag. Xi Tang stood woodenly to the side, watching the angry Ni Kai Lun empty the refrigerator. Suddenly, a sealed jar rolled out from the depths of the refrigerator and tumbled to the floor. Xi Tang picked it up, opened it, and sniffed. It was her mother’s beef sauce, with fresh meat flavor and a slightly sweet spiciness—her favorite taste.

Xi Tang’s tears instantly poured out. Holding the jar, she knelt in front of the refrigerator, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ni Kai Lun reached out to pull her up but couldn’t move her at all. Xi Tang wailed incessantly, crying until she fell sideways. Ni Kai Lun quickly pressed her philtrum and looked down to see that Huang Xi Tang had been revived by the pressure, but tears were still flowing.

Ni Kai Lun became a bit panicked.

Xi Tang had completely stopped working. In this industry, which popular artist wasn’t exhausted? But no one dared to rest. Once you stopped, once there was a gap, once your position was empty, someone immediately filled it. If the audience didn’t see you for a month, they would completely forget you in the blink of an eye. This was especially true for someone like Huang Xi Tang, who was just at the peak of her rise when she should be working hard to maintain her top-tier position. Watching her abandon this great opportunity with such self-destructive behavior, Ni Kai Lun was anxiously burning with worry but didn’t dare to push her. During the day when Xi Tang’s mood was slightly better, Ni Kai Lun would come over after work from the company, talk to her about new roles, and have her read scripts, but Huang Xi Tang’s expression remained indifferent. She said she had earned enough money and that as a single person, she wouldn’t need much.

Ni Kai Lun was at a loss. A month had passed, the lunar New Year holiday had ended, and if she still didn’t go back to work, her hard-earned acting career might be completely over.

When Zhao Ping Jin arrived, Ni Kai Lun was in the garden downstairs, walking her son while waiting for him. The nanny had just taken the weekend off.

From a distance, she saw the black Range Rover. The car drove as arrogantly as its owner. Zhao Ping Jin got out, the security guard came to help him park, and he walked towards Ni Kai Lun. A tall, slender man in a camel-colored trench coat, his face still the same as always, bearing that annoying air of looking down on everyone.

Ni Kai Lun handed him the elevator card: “You know which room, go up by yourself.”

Zhao Ping Jin nodded.

Ni Kai Lun said: “She’s agitated enough to bite people now, don’t be too rough.”

Zhao Ping Jin didn’t respond to her comment, but looked down at the little boy wearing blue denim overalls, squatting by the lawn shoveling sand: “Your son?”

Ni Kai Lun quickly pulled her son into her arms.

Zhao Ping Jin casually commented: “Quite cute.”

Ni Kai Lun proudly raised her head.

Zhao Ping Jin added as he walked toward the elevator: “A chubby little fellow, should lose some weight.”

Ni Kai Lun was furious.

When she turned around, he had already disappeared around the elevator corner.

Ni Kai Lun squatted down to examine her son carefully. A chubby little face peeked out from under a woolen hat. The gold-medal nanny hired through an agency for a high salary had been diligently feeding him without missing a meal. It seemed he had gotten a bit fat.

A Kuan opened the door for him, saying softly: “She’s in her room.”

Zhao Ping Jin knocked once, then pushed the door open and walked in.

Xi Tang heard the door and her gaze moved slightly. She saw the man standing at the door, and her eyelid twitched lightly for an instant but then returned to a numb expression.

Zhao Ping Jin saw a black shadow by the window. Huang Xi Tang was sitting in an armchair in the room, wearing a loose black dress like a robe. He couldn’t see any changes in her figure, but Zhao Ping Jin took one look at her and understood why Ni Kai Lun had called him. Huang Xi Tang was completely dull and slow. Zhao Ping Jin could tell with just one glance that she had shut down her feelings to defend against the unbearable grief.

Zhao Ping Jin leaned against the doorframe, his tone very calm: “Change your clothes. I’ll take you out to get some sun.”

Xi Tang ignored him.

Zhao Ping Jin walked in, opened the closet, took out a coat for her, and said in a steady, calm voice: “Change clothes.”

Seeing that she didn’t move, Zhao Ping Jin began pulling a sweater over her head. Xi Tang didn’t speak but raised her hands to cover her head.

Zhao Ping Jin held down her arms. Xi Tang struggled silently but violently, her arms fluttering inside the clothes, refusing to go through. Zhao Ping Jin was never a patient person to begin with. After coaxing her a few times, his voice deepened: “Enough already, that’s about enough!”

Xi Tang stopped moving.

Zhao Ping Jin put socks and a coat on her pulled her up and dragged her by the collar into his arms. Xi Tang was practically hoisted onto him, and she stumbled along with Zhao Ping Jin’s confident strides into the elevator.

The elevator descended to the first floor, and Zhao Ping Jin pushed her out. Sunlight instantly shone on her face, swift and piercing.

Xi Tang immediately closed her eyes.

Zhao Ping Jin pressed her to stand in the sunlight. Xi Tang only felt a blackness in her eyes.

Zhao Ping Jin drove her away from the area.

The New Year had just passed, and a few red lanterns still hung on the trees in the residential complex. The car turned onto a wide road and drove for more than an hour. The scenery gradually became sparser, with the high-rise buildings becoming less dense. Xi Tang looked out the window as the trees grew thicker, and in the distance, she could see a temple tower with black tiles and white walls.

Zhao Ping Jin took her to the temple. They had reached Little Kunshan, far from the urban area, where there weren’t many worshippers normally. Zhao Ping Jin had driven so long to help her avoid crowds and not be disturbed. The two walked through two halls to the meditation hall in the west wing. Zhao Ping Jin led her to the entrance: “The master is teaching. Go in and listen.”

Xi Tang looked at him, a clear light rising in her eyes.

Zhao Ping Jin shook his head and said lightly: “I won’t go in. The men in the Zhao family don’t believe in this. The old lady is devout though, eating vegetarian meals on the first and fifteenth of each month.”

Xi Tang went in.

When she came out, Xi Tang walked through several corridors to the east wing and saw Zhao Ping Jin standing by a huge incense burner in front of the Ksitigarbha Hall. Beside him was a monk in a yellow robe, and the two were burning paper money in the smoke burner.

Xi Tang walked over, and Zhao Ping Jin handed her a stack: “It’s for your mother to have some spending money on her journey. Burn it for peace of mind.”

After all the thick stacks of paper money were burned, Zhao Ping Jin said: “Let’s go.”

The two walked down the mountain in silence.

Xi Tang followed half a step behind him. As they walked, her legs weakened, and she fell on the steps.

Zhao Ping Jin didn’t react immediately. When he turned around, he saw her sitting on the ground. He frowned and said: “Get up.”

Xi Tang had been sleeping very little during this period. Her vision was blurry, and she got up silently to continue walking, but after a few steps, she was about to fall again.

This time Zhao Ping Jin was prepared. With quick reflexes, he grabbed her collar and caught her.

Zhao Ping Jin placed her on the stone steps of the mountain path, walked forward a step, stood on the step below her, and bent slightly: “Get on.”

Xi Tang silently bent down and lay on his back, then put her arms around his neck. She smelled his scent again, from his hair and collar—the woody fragrance of aftershave, quiet and cool, that enchanting scent she hadn’t smelled for a very long time.

Her heart suddenly felt a bit sour.

Long ago when they were dating, one National Day holiday, she was working as a model in a Xidan shopping mall. For several days, she stood all day in high heels, rubbing the skin off her heels. Zhao Ping Jin came to pick her up after work, and when they reached the underground garage of their apartment building, he carried her upstairs. Xi Tang, with a large bag on her back and barefoot, lay on his back, her feet swinging gently, swaying with sweetness and happiness. Now suddenly remembering it, it felt like an illusion, as if it had never actually happened in reality.

Zhao Ping Jin reached out to secure her body, then straightened up. Xi Tang felt her body instantly sink heavily against his palms. She shifted up slightly on his back, trying to quietly reduce some of the weight when she heard Zhao Ping Jin take a breath and coldly say: “How much KFC did you eat?”

Xi Tang reached out and hit his head hard.

Zhao Ping Jin dared not speak anymore. He carried her down the mountain. The winter sun shone between the mountain forests. After continuous dry weather, the stone steps were rough. He didn’t walk fast, but steadily, step by step, all the way to where the car was parked.

Zhao Ping Jin put Xi Tang down and pressed the car key in his hand: “It’s cold outside. Get in first.”

Xi Tang looked at him.

Zhao Ping Jin glanced at her askance: “Are you determined not to speak to me?”

Xi Tang had to say: “What are you going to do?”

Zhao Ping Jin took out a cigarette pack: “Get in the car first. I’m craving a smoke.”

Xi Tang got into his car and saw him leaning against the car, taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

Through the car window, with his back to her, Xi Tang could finally look at him carefully. The man leaning against the window wore charcoal gray trousers and a wooden brown turtleneck sweater. Looking closely, his features showed traces of haggardness, and he appeared tired.

Zhao Ping Jin, who had lived a life of luxury and pampering, now bore the marks of hardship.

Zhao Ping Jin’s vision darkened. He stood for a while and smoked half a cigarette before recovering.

Zhao Ping Jin drove back to the urban area.

The car sped along the highway, and Xi Tang suddenly began speaking beside him: “Her life was very hard.”

Zhao Ping Jin frowned slightly and gave a sound of acknowledgment.

Xi Tang knew he was listening.

“When she was young, she was a woman with grace, but she didn’t meet good people. By the time she grew old, just as her daughter was finally earning some money, she was diagnosed with illness.”

“She was always a beautiful woman. She permed her hair. Later, when she opened the noodle shop, she made her apron, washing it clean every day.”

Zhao Ping Jin held the steering wheel, silently watching the road ahead, hearing only her voice—soft, with a gentle nasal tone. Because of her acting, she usually spoke with clear, standard Mandarin, but when very relaxed, she would have a slight southern accent. Zhao Ping Jin knew that Huang Xi Tang understood he was listening.

“But if there was any little conflict with neighbors, those women would call her dirty, so we kept moving.”

“During my adolescence, there was a period when I wouldn’t talk to her. I resented her for doing what she did, making me unable to hold my head up when walking home from school. But when we settled in Xianju and had a little money, she sent me to learn piano. I only started learning piano when I was ten.”

Outside the highway overpass, the sky was clear and clean. Zhao Ping Jin’s car moved extremely fast. Xi Tang breathed softly, looking at the man’s hand on the steering wheel—long fingers with distinct knuckles, a thin white gold watch visible at his fair wrist. She watched silently. She had once longed for the past with utter despair, though perhaps not necessarily for him, but for the self that was loved by him during that time. The man beside her was her comrade, enemy, family, and lover—the person with whom she had spent the most time in her life apart from her mother. After her mother’s death, she had nothing left. She was ready to give half her life away.

“When I was in high school, I lived in the dormitory. One afternoon, we had PE class, and the teacher dismissed us early. When I went home, I saw a pair of men’s leather shoes behind the door, so I quietly closed the door and went back to school.”

“Later, after a week, she gave me a large sum of money. I needed to take the entrance exam for art school and join a training class. I didn’t hate Uncle Qiu, really, but I hated my mom.”

Huang Xi Tang spoke brokenly of those broken memories.

“One year, close to the New Year, she took me to buy new clothes at a clothing store on the market street. I wanted to buy a pair of popular jeans at the time. She was working at a silk factory then, earning a little over 500 yuan a month while raising a teenager. She was saving money for my college education. My mom looked for a long time and said: ‘Little sister, let’s go home.'”

“So I went home with her. I was older by then and didn’t make a scene, but I didn’t speak either.”

“We went home, and she thought about it all night. She couldn’t bear to disappoint her daughter. The next day after work, she came home and took me to buy those pants.”

“Those pants weren’t even that nice. I didn’t end up wearing them much later. But how could I have been so inconsiderate back then?”

She finally began to cry.

Zhao Ping Jin slowed down the car, drove through Xujiahui, and entered Sinan Road. He took her slowly circling the French Concession.

When she cried, it was just like when she was with him in Beijing later—choked up, tearful but soundless, endless tears, crying so hard she began to hiccup and gasp for air.

Zhao Ping Jin spotted a parking space, turned the steering wheel to park sideways, then unfastened his seatbelt, reached out to embrace Xi Tang, placed her in his arms, and gently patted her back.

Huang Xi Tang leaned on his shoulder, crying and gasping. Zhao Ping Jin waited silently. After a long time, the person in his arms finally calmed down, motionless against his chest.

Zhao Ping Jin took out a handkerchief and wiped her nose.

Now she was a female celebrity with quite a reputation outside. In earlier years, he didn’t understand her, but gradually over the past few years, he had come to understand her circumstances back then. But nothing could be brought back, especially after meeting her again, when she had already polished herself into a soft, gentle little star, preserving only a pretty face that smiled whenever needed, probably putting all her emotions into her roles.

Huang Xi Tang’s hair was disheveled, with a few strands stuck to her face with tears. Her swollen eyelids from crying still had tears continuously seeping from her eyes.

She fell asleep in the crook of his neck.