At the end of October in the year she turned thirty-two, Xi Tang returned from Taiwan.

Reporters and fans packed the terminal. Xi Tang wore a caramel-colored coat, sneakers, and sunglasses as she walked out, immediately causing a stir of screams from the crowd. Bouquets were passed through the crowd continuously. Xi Tang accepted two of them, while her assistant carried the rest. Reporters surrounded her, asking to see her trophy.

Xi Tang simply waved lightly in greeting the reporters, smiling as she said it was packed in her luggage.

Her manager protected her as they moved forward, and even the photographers joined the fans in shouting: “The Best Actress is so beautiful congratulations!”

They made their way to the airport parking lot where her assistant opened the car door. Xi Tang saw a large bouquet of bright pomegranate flowers on the back seat.

They had been picked that morning from a greenhouse in the south and transported to Shanghai in an airline’s freezer box.

The car returned to Xi Tang’s home in Yangpu District. Her assistant, A Kuan, carried the bouquet inside.

That evening, Small Landlord hosted a celebration for Xi Tang at his restaurant. Nearly all the management from Lu Kai Media were there, along with Xi Tang’s entire staff and several artist friends. The entire banquet hall served only their company’s guests that night, allowing all friends to relax freely in an exceptionally lively and warm atmosphere.

Small Landlord personally cooked that night. Even though he now had more restaurant management responsibilities, he still loved to cook. With the boss rarely cooking himself, even the executive chef didn’t want to leave and especially stayed to taste a few bites. The dinner table was warm and bustling. Ni Kailun seemed even happier than Xi Tang, reminiscing: “The first time I went to Taiwan was in 1998, with Director Shi Zeming. We sat in the 35th row, didn’t know anyone, and spotted Maggie Cheung halfway through. I was excited the entire evening.”

Xi Tang laughed and said, “Kailun, you’ve had too much to drink, you’re revealing your age.”

That night when Xi Tang returned home, she sat for a while in her mother’s room. The room had already been cleared out and was now empty except for some of Xi Tang’s idle formal dresses, trophies, and similar items. Xi Tang had kept one of her mother’s sweaters in the cabinet. She sat on the sofa in the dressing room, took out the sweater, and gently pressed it against her face.

Xi Tang sat for a while until her assistant came to urge her to sleep around one in the morning.

The next day she had to return to Hengdian to film.

It was snowing on the day she returned to Hengdian.

Winter is the best season for filming period costume dramas, and natural snow scenes are particularly rare. The director immediately took the entire crew to an outdoor location. Young palace maids in cotton-padded jackets sat on low stools waiting for their scenes, their breath forming fog from their noses and mouths. The outdoor location had only a few tent houses set up, equally cold inside and out. A Kuan attached heat packs all over her body.

They wrapped filming after six, and it was already dark.

After returning to town for dinner, the driver took her and her assistant back to rest. She was still living in the same place, except now she had rented all three rooms on that floor, along with a kitchen.

Xi Tang linked arms with A Kuan as they walked up the stairs. As they reached the corner of the staircase, they both looked up to see a dark figure sitting in front of her room. Xi Tang tensed up, squeezing A Kuan’s hand, which immediately made A Kuan scream in fear.

Driver Huang quickly rushed up from downstairs, positioning himself in front of the two women. He looked up and suddenly stood still.

“Mr. Zhao,” he called out respectfully.

Zhao Pingjin stood up—a tall, thin man in a black coat. The flickering lights from the apartment building across the way cast shadows on the wall. In the darkness, his handsome, pale profile was revealed.

Xi Tang walked over and turned on the hallway light.

A Kuan patted her chest, handing over the keys, bag, and everything else in her hands to Xi Tang then turned and went downstairs with the driver.

Xi Tang searched for her keys in her bag, glancing at him: “Why are you sitting in front of my door? The floor is so dirty.”

Zhao Pingjin replied irritably: “You think I wanted to sit on the floor? It’s because you came back so late.”

Xi Tang asked: “Why didn’t you wait in the car? It’s so cold.”

Zhao Pingjin took the large bag she was carrying: “I rarely come to visit, and Huang Xi Tang, you can’t even give me a pleasant face?” Xi Tang opened the door, and Zhao Pingjin followed her in. Xi Tang stood in the narrow entryway, looking up at his face.

There was a deep, burning light in Zhao Pingjin’s eyes: “Why didn’t you marry Shu’an?”

“Because it wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Why wouldn’t it be fair to him?” Huang Xi Tang raised her head to speak, but Zhao Pingjin reached out and pushed her against the entryway wall, lowering his head to kiss her lips. Xi Tang twisted her upper body to struggle for a moment, but Zhao Pingjin reached out and gripped her neck. His movements were rough and intense, his palm cold. She shivered from the cold and opened her mouth to bite down.

Zhao Pingjin cursed with her lip between his, and the taste of blood spread between their intertwined tongues. Zhao Pingjin still pressed tightly against her body, refusing to let go. She kicked at his leg, and he grabbed her waist, lifting her.

The two kissed passionately, and Zhao Pingjin carried her, tumbling onto the living room sofa. She fumbled around for the air conditioner remote: “How long did you wait outside? Your body is freezing.”

Zhao Pingjin focused on nibbling her shoulder: “I’ll warm up in a minute.”

The air conditioner beeped as it turned on. Her coat had already been pulled off, and Zhao Pingjin removed her gray pullover sweater. Both wore white shirts today, but Xi Tang wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Two buttons of her shirt had been torn open by Zhao Pingjin, revealing a patch of snow-white collarbone and shoulder. Zhao Pingjin gripped her ankle as she straddled his waist, her face pressed against his neck, her soft, wet tongue licking his Adam’s apple.

Zhao Pingjin shuddered violently, a wave of heat surging through his body. He swallowed hard, picked her up completely, and turned to press her onto the sofa.

Xi Tang cried out: “Zhao Pingjin, you bastard!” Zhao Pingjin viciously slapped her bottom, not holding back at all. She heard a crisp “smack,” and half her leg instantly went numb. Zhao Pingjin gritted his teeth: “How impressive you were, annoying me every day in Guosheng Alley. I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson for a long time!” The dark room gradually grew warmer, and two white shirts lay on the carpet by the coffee table, messily folded together.

On New Year’s Eve in Beijing.

His father was rarely in the country during the New Year. The festive Spring Festival Gala played on television, and a steaming pot of dumplings was ready. Zhao Pingjin ate half a bowl at home, and around ten o’clock, he got up to put on his coat.

Professor Zhou and the housekeeper were serving his grandmother dinner. She looked up at her son: “Where are you going on New Year’s Eve?” Zhao Pingjin glanced at his mother: “Where I’m going, don’t you know better than I do?” Professor Zhou put down her chopsticks: “Can’t you go tomorrow instead?” Zhao Pingjin finished putting on his coat, went over, and kissed his grandmother: “I can’t. She’s alone in Beijing.”

Professor Zhou stood up: “Doesn’t she have a family? Isn’t the Jing family inviting her back for the New Year?” Zhao Pingjin grabbed his car keys: “That’s just a relative, not family. She only has me.”

Professor Zhou was displeased: “Our family has only one child too. You’re going to leave a few old people to celebrate the New Year alone?” Zhao Pingjin smiled at his mother: “Don’t you have Dad?” Zhao Pingjin’s father walked out of the room at that moment, standing in the living room with his hands behind his back, saying to his son: “Go ahead, bring her home for New Year’s next year.”

Professor Zhou turned to glare at her husband.

Comrade Zhao Zhuiguo just smiled at Professor Zhou.

“Wait a moment, auntie,” Professor Zhou called to the kitchen, “pack two boxes of dumplings for Zhou’er to take with him.”

Zhao Pingjin started his car at the front of the courtyard house. Since his illness and time abroad these past two years, his mother had suddenly aged, and she didn’t manage household affairs as strictly as before. Previously, Professor Zhou had spent over a year in Los Angeles with him, and even after he returned to Beijing, his mother still spent most of her time abroad. His sixty-year-old father was intent on repairing their marriage. He understood his mother; deep down, she still loved his father.

Zhao Pingjin drove out of Guosheng Alley. As the car turned onto Jianwai Avenue, fine snow began falling from the sky.

When he was with Xi Tang, they lived in the Park Hyatt apartment, and Professor Zhou never inquired about it. When Xi Tang was in Beijing, she never went near Guosheng Alley.

Only the snacks made by the Zhao family’s housekeeper were regularly delivered to the Park Hyatt. Several times when Zhao Pingjin returned home, the housekeeper had fresh fruits and various tonics packaged and ready for him to take over. A few days ago, she had prepared a package of winter bamboo shoots with tender sprouts still on the skin. Winter bamboo shoots are cooling in nature, and Zhao Pingjin couldn’t eat them. He laughed and asked, “Who are these for?” The housekeeper followed behind him, instructing: “These aren’t for you, they’re for your girl. Your mother specially saved them.”

When they first got back together, Zhao Pingjin’s health was poor, and Xi Tang had postponed nearly three months of work to come to Beijing to care for him. Once his health improved, they spent a New Year together in Beijing before Xi Tang had to return to filming.

May.

Beijing’s summer was late that year. Even in May, it was still quite cool. His grandmother had just woken up from her afternoon nap. The caregiver helped her into a wheelchair. Professor Zhou walked in: “Mom.”

The old lady’s speech suddenly became clear: “Zhu Jun’s wife, you’re home.”

Professor Zhou sat nearby: “Mom, I’m Zhu Guo’s wife.”

The old lady said: “Oh, it’s the second son’s wife.”

The old lady held her hand: “Daughter-in-law, you have a baby now.”

Professor Zhou smiled: “Zhou’er isn’t home today.”

The old lady seemed not to hear, mumbling: “I had a dream last night. Early in the morning, I was carrying water at the river-crossing dock, and I saw a chubby white baby in a little boat. There was thick fog all around, not another soul in sight, so I quickly picked up the baby. I knew then that this was the baby my daughter-in-law conceived in Beijing.”

Whenever this story came up, Professor Zhou was always pleased: “Mom, thank goodness for your dream. That’s when Zhou’er was conceived.”

The old lady spoke firmly: “I just dreamed it last night. Second daughter-in-law, don’t worry, that’s your baby coming.”

Professor Zhou thought to herself that the old lady was truly confused.

As Professor Zhou walked to the door, a flash of insight struck her, making her heart tremble. She quickly called Zhao Pingjin: “Where is your wife?”

Zhao Pingjin pretended to be clueless: “Well, your son has been divorced for how long now? I’m single, where would I get a wife?” Professor Zhou’s tone grew urgent: “Stop pretending with me, I’m talking about Huang Xi Tang.”

Zhao Pingjin became alert, his tone changing: “Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m asking you where she is!”

“She’s working. What’s wrong?”

“Listen to me, your grandmother had that dream again, the same one she had when I was pregnant with you, dreaming of you floating down the river in a small boat. Quickly ask her, is she pregnant?” Zhao Pingjin was stunned.

When his aunt became pregnant with his cousin Zhao Pindong, his aunt didn’t realize it, but his grandmother had dreamed of it. When his parents married, Professor Zhou was working in Beijing while his father worked at the grassroots level. During official visiting periods, Professor Zhou would go see his father, but after four or five years of marriage, Professor Zhou still couldn’t conceive. Then one day, she suddenly received a call from the old lady. Professor Zhou immediately went to the hospital, and indeed she was pregnant. The old lady’s dream predictions about grandchildren had always been accurate.

Zhao Pingjin said: “I’ll give her a call.”

Zhao Pingjin returned to Guosheng Alley in the evening.

The housekeeper stood guard at the entrance to the hall. Seeing him return, she quickly reported inside: “Ma’am, Young Master Zhou is back.”

Professor Zhou came out.

Zhao Pingjin told his mother: “She has filming scheduled until late tonight, so she can’t go to the hospital. She’s already asked her assistant to buy a pregnancy test, and she’ll check first thing tomorrow morning.”

Professor Zhou trembled: “If she needs to check, then… how long has it been since her last period?”

“Two months.”

Professor Zhou was so happy she trembled: “Then it must be true.”

Zhao Pingjin wasn’t optimistic, nor did he dare to be blindly optimistic. Her body made pregnancy difficult.

They had been back together for a year, never using contraception, but still had no child, which was why she still wouldn’t marry him.

Early the next morning, Zhao Pingjin got up.

Professor Zhou and the housekeeper were up even earlier, waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

Zhao Pingjin walked down while buttoning his shirt cuffs, his face pale with shock: “I’m going to Shanghai now.”

The housekeeper immediately burst into tears: “What wonderful news!”

Professor Zhou was calmer than yesterday: “I’ll arrange for someone from your grandmother’s side to take care of her daily needs. You two go to the hospital, and tell the driver to drive carefully.”

Xi Tang was pregnant and living in Shanghai.

Her apartment in Yangpu District was known to reporters, so to avoid the media, she moved to Zhao Pingjin’s house on Taojiang Road.

Zhao Pingjin rarely stayed at his Shanghai house, keeping only a gardener and a housekeeper. His grandmother’s family specially arranged for a longtime family servant from the Zhou family to care for Xi Tang’s diet.

This auntie was Professor Zhou’s distant cousin and the old Mrs. Zhou’s confidante. Her cooking was very meticulous, with a balanced mix of meat and vegetables and precise nutrition. She insisted on five small meals a day for Xi Tang. However, during early pregnancy, Xi Tang had a poor appetite. Every mealtime, urged by the auntie to sit at the table, she couldn’t eat much. That week, Zhao Pingjin was busy with work and had returned to Beijing, leaving Xi Tang alone in Shanghai. Each time she couldn’t finish her meal, the auntie would nag her, so Xi Tang forced herself to stuff food into her mouth.

One morning, Xi Tang suddenly burst into tears.

Zhao Pingjin had returned home that day and rushed out of the study when he heard her crying. He stood up and took the dishes away: “If she doesn’t want to eat, don’t force her.”

The auntie had worked for the Zhou family for many years. Zhao Pingjin spent childhood summers in Shanghai and was practically raised by her. Plus, she had been formally invited by the old lady this time, so she couldn’t lose face: “Why is she crying? I didn’t bully her. How can someone be so delicate? It’s normal to be moody during pregnancy, but there’s no need for such dramatics. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t eat, but the baby in her belly needs to eat…”

Zhao Pingjin tolerated it at first but finally lost his temper: “If you say one more word, go back to my grandmother’s house!” He walked back to the living room where Xi Tang sat dazed. Zhao Pingjin stroked her head.

Xi Tang finally came to her senses and broke into laughter through her tears: “I’ve known you for ten years, and this is the first time I’ve heard you speak Shanghainese.”

Zhao Pingjin immediately switched to Mandarin: “What?” Xi Tang had tears on her cheeks but suddenly couldn’t stop laughing: “Your Shanghainese is so funny, say it again for me.”

Zhao Pingjin immediately refused: “No.”

Xi Tang jumped onto a chair and tugged at his hair: “Will you say it or not?” Zhao Pingjin quickly steadied her: “Sit properly!” Xi Tang laughed and teased him: “Say it again, let me hear it, just two sentences.”

Zhao Pingjin lifted her down: “Alright, get down now.” Xi Tang kept laughing.

Zhao Pingjin put on a stern face: “Not listening to reason anymore, are you, Huang Xi Tang!”

Xi Tang quickly covered her mouth, pressing her palms together in a plea: “Say two sentences for me to hear, and I promise I’ll eat properly.”

At noon, Xi Tang sat at the dining table right on time, eagerly anticipating Zhao Pingjin’s arrival. Later that afternoon, the first-floor dining room was filled with Huang Xi Tang’s “Hahahahahaha” laughter as Zhao Pingjin finally gave in: “Eat properly! If you don’t eat properly and just laugh, I’ll make you do the housework tonight! Your brain is broken, how can there be such a silly person like you?” Xi Tang nearly rolled off her chair laughing.

The auntie shook her head outside: “Young Master Zhou’s girlfriend has turned into a fool during pregnancy.”

The stage play “The Last Night of This World” launched its second tour that autumn. On the day the production held its press conference, the official social media account naturally posted routine promotional content. But that evening, more than an hour after posting the press release, the official account of “The Last Night of This World” also posted a short video.

Theater isn’t an art form with a large audience, and the official account had only a few tens of thousands of followers with generally modest engagement. But that post quickly caught the attention of major entertainment accounts and was reshared. Within an hour, it had over 100,000 reposts and comments. People were interested because the video featured Huang Xi Tang, who had disappeared from media sight for over two months.

During the first two months of Xi Tang’s pregnancy, it wasn’t very noticeable as she was still filming. Her pregnancy was unexpected, and she couldn’t change her contracted schedules and work times. Despite some fatigue, she persisted until filming was complete. In her third month, Xi Tang still attended a fashion brand event in Shanghai, but this was her last public appearance. Previously scheduled films and variety shows were canceled.

At that time, some people said she was pregnant.

An unwed pregnancy for a top actress wasn’t major news, but it wasn’t minor either. Both fans and reporters were very curious. But neither the management company nor the artist responded.

No one expected her to announce it this way.

It was a video of Xi Tang in the stage play rehearsal room. Director Lin Yongchuan was chatting with her in the director’s rest area: “Xi Tang, expecting a baby?” At the beginning, the camera was filming with Xi Tang’s back to it, showing only that she wore a somewhat loose dress, with her arms and calves still very slender. Lin Yongchuan was the director of Xi Tang’s first film. Later, due to life changes, he left the film industry and switched to theater, where he also achieved great success. When Huang Xi Tang’s career hit rock bottom after the assault incident, he was the first to cast her in a stage play. Over the years, Xi Tang had always respected him deeply, and the two shared a father-daughter-like relationship. Xi Tang seemed quite happy recently: “Yes.”

Lin Yongchuan said: “Everyone is curious about who the baby’s father is.”

The young actors nearby covered their mouths, giggling.

The camera now captured Huang Xi Tang’s profile, showing her smiling as she said: “He is a friend of mine.”

When Xi Tang went out with Zhao Pingjin, they had been photographed several times. The most famous instance was at a Small Landlord’s restaurant in Shanghai, where a neighboring guest secretly photographed the man dining alone with Huang Xi Tang. Their posture wasn’t particularly intimate, but both were very familiar and relaxed, clearly friends of many years. One close-up profile shot, though blurry when zoomed in by phone, still showed a rather handsome and clear-featured man.

That photo was sent to a well-known paparazzi team. Before they finished their meal, reporters had arrived. Fortunately, the restaurant’s front-of-house staff was quick-witted and immediately notified the owner. Xi Tang came out alone to deal with the media, merely smiling and saying: “He is a friend of mine.”

The next day, that news disappeared.

Lin Yongchuan pointed at her belly: “So, does your friend know about this?” Xi Tang pretended to wipe sweat and nodded vigorously: “He knows, he knows. This was our joint decision.”

Lin Yongchuan spoke warmly: “My little Liya is going to have a baby, come, you should train your understudy.”

Xi Tang played Liya’s lead role, and a secondary actress had been rehearsing with the production. Now this young actress came in and bowed to Xi Tang: “Teacher.”

Daughter Yudian was born in March.

Zhao Pingjin departed from Beijing Capital International Airport to accompany Xi Tang as she prepared to give birth. Boarding from the VIP lounge after 8 PM, he glanced out the airport’s huge glass windows. That evening, dry Beijing had a small, moist rain. Looking out across the vast airport, everything was a wet surface. Night flights began slowly taxiing on the runway, with a row of lights flashing on both sides. Zhao Pingjin sat in his seat, watching round raindrops falling outside the window, and knew then that he would welcome a very lovely daughter.

Huang Xi Tang named her Zhao Zhishi. The name references “good rain knows the season,” and phonetically sounds like someone who loves to study. Unfortunately, this little girl completely missed the genes of her mother, who nearly reached first-tier university admission scores as an art student, and her father, who studied key engineering disciplines at Tsinghua University. From childhood onward, she was a poor student.

When Yudian was advancing from kindergarten to elementary school, Xi Tang sat on the floor holding her little son, looking at her daughter’s test paper, then looked up at Zhao Pingjin: “What should we do?” Yudian was riding on Zhao Pingjin’s shoulders as he gripped her two little plump legs and raced around the room. The little girl laughed happily, and Zhao Pingjin didn’t take it seriously: “Our children don’t need to be too outstanding.”

Son Qiaoqiao grabbed the test paper and tried to stuff it in his mouth.

Xi Tang pulled the paper away and looked at her son: “Qiaoqiao, what’s one plus three?” The one-and-a-half-year-old son had just started learning to talk and helplessly blew a spit bubble before crashing into Xi Tang’s arms.

Xi Tang cried out: “Little bull, you’ve hurt mommy, hurt mommy.”

Zhao Pingjin immediately reached out to lift his son, then hugged his wife: “Your mom is my treasure, what are you trying to do?” Xi Tang said: “Don’t scare him.”

Little Zhao Qiaoqiao wasn’t afraid at all. He sat on the floor quietly sucking his thumb, his dark eyes rolling as he looked at his father.

Zhao Qiaoqiao was born in Beijing four years later, without the same treatment his sister had received at birth. Yudian was born naturally and pushed out alongside Xi Tang. Zhao Pingjin kissed his wife and then turned to kiss his daughter, his eyes red but his heart overjoyed. When the nurse brought out Zhao Qiaoqiao, Professor Zhou and Xi Tang’s stepmother gathered around to look. After a round of “grandmother hold” and “grandmother hold” polite exchanges, Professor Zhou finally reached out to take her grandson. Zhao Pingjin didn’t even get to hold him, as Xi Tang was still in the operating room having her abdomen stitched.

After the anesthesia wore off, Xi Tang wept from the pain, and Zhao Pingjin could only hold her hand. She didn’t dare cry aloud; the elders said that tears during the postpartum month would cause eye problems later.

The well-fed baby lay sleeping nearby, a sweet smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.

Seeing this made Zhao Pingjin angry. He reached out to pinch the baby’s cheek: “You little rascal, you dare to smile? Do you know how much you made my wife suffer?” Little Zhao Qiaoqiao immediately began to cry.

Professor Zhou heard and came in.

“Hey, don’t tease him.”

“What kind of father are you?” After Qiao’s birth, due to potential newborn respiratory issues, Zhao Pingjin accompanied Xi Tang and the child to their house in the Beijing suburbs for over three months.

He would return home from the city after finishing work.

With the night light on in the room, Xi Tang was up feeding the baby.

Zhao Pingjin went next door to kiss his sleeping daughter’s cheek, then walked into the bedroom. Seeing him enter, Xi Tang, with a face full of sleepiness, pouted at him. Zhao Pingjin went to sit beside her, taking her in his arms. Her top had been pulled up, her snow-white breast pressed against an infant who adored his mother. He inappropriately reached out to touch, but the nursing baby suddenly stretched out his foot, kicking his father. Zhao Pingjin was so angry he was about to discipline the child, but Xi Tang slapped away his hand, looking up to glare at him.

Zhao Pingjin immediately stopped, quickly taking her hand and soothingly kissing her knuckles.

After Xi Tang settled the child, Zhao Pingjin went downstairs to the kitchen to wash the baby bottles. He saw flickering light flowing through the garden at midnight—the rising moon was shining on the trees. When he returned to the room, Xi Tang was already asleep.

Zhao Pingjin quietly walked to the terrace in the backyard, looking at the moonlight on the tree shadows across the river. She was the dream of his life, finally transformed into the moonlight beside his pillow.

In this moonlight, he tilted back his head, holding back tears at the corners of his eyes.