At midnight that night, the internet exploded. News of Xi Jing winning Best Actress occupied the number one trending spot, while the topic “Wu Jiakui Disappointment” occupied second place.

First, the matter of her fans throwing dirty water on Long Qi was dug up by “certain netizens” and spread across the entire internet like wildfire, triggering bystanders to take sides. At the same time, serious division appeared within her fanbase. One faction of career fans felt disappointment that iron couldn’t become steel. In the name of having watched Wu Jiakui grow up since childhood, they couldn’t stand her “dissolute and self-degrading” appearance. Since the incident of her frequenting nightclubs and smoking was exposed, they had been quite critical. They had endured for half a year—endured her wasting two months of golden rising time to run to London to be a “study companion,” endured her disregarding her image by posting tattoo photos on Instagram, endured her long-term involvement with rich second-generation circles and “throwing herself at them.” But tonight after her regrettable loss at the Asia-America Awards, they finally erupted. They enumerated Wu Jiakui’s lack of effort, inaction, and unscrupulous behavior. With Xi Jing winning the award as a wake-up call ahead and Long Qi securing the Fire&Gun endorsement behind, they were unwilling, felt that being her fan was so unworthy. In the Weibo comment section, they posted long essays “unfollowing” one after another, blaming her for not winning the award, blaming her for disappointing family and fans’ expectations, blaming her for betraying her original intention, blaming her for putting romance above everything.

Everything was her fault.

A war of fans dissing their own idol erupted without smoke—vast and mighty, the screen full of “disappointment.” Even bystanders didn’t dare say an extra word.

Poor Wu Jiakui.

She was just this kind of person. Dissolute nature was in her character. The so-called “throwing herself” at rich second-generation circles was merely normal socializing in her childhood environment. But because she deviated from the persona fans had long been exposed to, she suffered nearly pathological resistance. They hoped she would quickly pick up her “original intention” and return to “herself.” But what original intention should she pick up, what self should she return to?

Ultimately they loved only her appearance. Otherwise they wouldn’t refuse to accept the real her. Yet many things only look at results, not process. No one can escape this strange circle.

Long Qi didn’t attend the celebrity banquet after the awards ceremony. She arrived home at exactly midnight, too tired to remove her makeup, collapsed on the living room sofa playing dead. After one drowse, two hours passed. If she hadn’t been awakened by noisy commotion from downstairs, she probably would have slept until the next morning.

At first she didn’t figure out the source. She irritably called property management to complain. Later property called back saying there was a party downstairs. Her brain heard the words “downstairs” and her heart went dull for a moment. She asked back, “The owner of the 26th floor came back?”

Property management found it inconvenient to answer, only saying that closing the balcony door could achieve soundproofing effects.

Her entire mind cleared.

Remembering Jin Yiken’s statement on the phone two days ago—”I’ll be back the day after tomorrow”—when she exhaled, she could even feel the humidity in the air. Then she went into her room to change clothes, opened the door, and headed for the elevator.

The elevator arrived at the 26th floor.

The car slowly stopped, floating up and down. When the door opened, the deafening party music and gaming noise from this floor surged in—several times louder than what she heard upstairs.

Just as she was about to exit, a man’s hand blocked the elevator door. A wave of alcohol smell drifted over. This man looked familiar—one of the second-generation rich from Jin Yiken’s circle back then. He had a girl tucked under his arm, also drunk. Long Qi folded out of the elevator, treating the two as transparent. The couple embraced and kissed as soon as they entered the elevator. She continued walking out and saw the open apartment door.

Inside played music that shook the entire space. She vaguely recognized Bryce Fox’s “Horns.” At the same time, through the corner of the open door, she saw crowds of people moving in the lights and wine. She rubbed her arms as she approached. The clinking of glasses, game sounds, girls’ tinkling laughter, boys’ loud guessing game shouts all grew closer and closer. Bottles rolled on the ground. Smoke rings slowly floated in mid-air. Ice cubes collided in glasses. She heard the sound of darts piercing targets and also heard the “fizz” of effervescent tablets reacting in water.

Upon stepping inside, the music became more intense.

Drumbeats shook the air. People inside went out, people outside came in, one after another brushing past her shoulders. She looked at the entire apartment’s carnival, looked at this house she had once lived in now becoming a place for a bunch of young second-generation rich, models, and entertainers to “party.” Lights swayed. The dining table was filled with drinks. The side hall had a giant “Asia-America Award” trophy standee. Most people gathered there.

They were using darts to shoot at that already battered standee. Each hit triggered a round of applause and cheers.

Drunken indulgence.

She breathed lightly, looking toward the main hall. Before she could find the person she was looking for, her shoulder was suddenly embraced. Her feet wobbled. Before she could stand steady, Ban Wei’s voice loudly burst out beside her: “You came too? Did you two get back together? Baby mama?”

She immediately smelled considerable alcohol. She turned her head to look at Ban Wei, whose eyes were already fuzzy from drinking. This person had been busy with tours recently. After not seeing him for several months, he was still this familiar. She countered, “What do you mean baby mama?”

“Didn’t they say you two have an illegitimate child…”

Long Qi kicked Ban Wei’s knee. His features contorted as he bent down to clutch his knee, actually wrinkling out double-eyelid creases. She asked again, “Isn’t Jin Yiken your romantic rival? What are you doing here?”

“There’s alcohol here and Wu Jiakui… Damn, that kick was really heavy. Let me recover… Damn…” He couldn’t straighten up. She was too lazy to pay attention. She continued looking around. She didn’t see Jin Yiken.

But she saw Wu Jiakui smoking on the balcony.

She also hadn’t attended the celebrity banquet after the awards ceremony.

Long Qi put her hands in her pockets, looking at her from afar. Despite the entire room’s carnival atmosphere, a crowd of people gathered together to avenge her “regrettable loss,” the balcony seemed like a private world. Her nude gauze dress had changed to a mermaid-colored spaghetti strap bodycon dress. Her waist leaned against the balcony railing, both elbows resting on the railing, cigarette between her fingers. The night wind blew the short hair by her neck into disarray. White smoke slowly exhaled from her lips, then instantly scattered by the wind.

Long Qi walked that way.

Wu Jiakui’s thoughts weren’t heavy. She slowly glanced at the sound, smoke drifting at her lips, smiling: “Disturbing you?”

This moment should be when she was being denounced most severely online. Long Qi leaned against the other side of the balcony railing, looking at the opposite building: “Aren’t you afraid there are paparazzi across the way?”

“Paparazzi can’t afford to rent houses in this area. The cost is too high.” She said, flicking cigarette ash. “You left earlier than me.”

“I knew the result.”

Wu Jiakui’s lips still smiled: “Are you satisfied with the result?”

“Come on, you knew the result early too. Acting like what.”

“When people from Xi Jing’s side leaked information to my fans, I knew what she wanted to do.” Wu Jiakui turned around, facing the night wind outside the balcony. But her head turned back, still looking at her. “You know what information, right? Made up like an eight o’clock drama.”

The wind at high altitude was cold. Most of the brightly lit city lay beneath their eyes. In the distance were river and cruise ships. Wu Jiakui said, “Coming at me like this after the awards—looks like she wants to strike while the iron is hot and completely destroy me.”

Arms suspended in the air outside the balcony, the cigarette tip flickered bright and dim in the wind.

Long Qi looked at her back at this moment, suddenly feeling this person didn’t seem as sharp as before. For that split second she had the thought of telling her about Zang Xipu’s recognition in the car. But before she could speak, Wu Jiakui exhaled another mouthful of smoke into the wind: “But I also pulled her down from the Best Actress position in Border.”

……

“Just three minutes before she took my trophy.”

Those words stuck in her throat.

Cold wind blew past her ears. The force in her pockets also became heavier. Long Qi looked at her back: “You made an exchange?”

“Not an exchange. A game.”

As Wu Jiakui spoke, she finally turned around. Smoke drifted around her. She didn’t say much more, but in this instant, Long Qi clearly saw through the word “game” the layers of manipulation hidden behind this awards ceremony. Shao Guo’an’s circle, the Wu family’s circle, the collision and fusion between circles, the confrontation between open guns and hidden arrows. How cold the wind was—she had nothing to say.

The sliver of sympathy she had for this person a moment ago was completely withdrawn.

Only from this moment did she discover she was facing such a fox skilled in methods. The treacherous entertainment industry to her was like her own backyard garden. And this little fox continued, “You know I got a tattoo, right?”

Long Qi laughed dryly.

“Jin Yiken doesn’t follow my Instagram. He doesn’t know yet. Can you tell where my tattoo is?”

Her arms and shoulders were smooth. The exposed parts of her calves also had no traces. Before Long Qi could leave, she lightly lifted her right knee. Her hand moved inside her skirt, slowly lifting the hem. Long Qi saw that line tattooed on her right inner thigh, close to the root—”Just Keen on You.”

“He’ll know soon.” She said, covering her skirt. The tattoo vanished in an instant. She left the railing, passing Long Qi with a cigarette, “Today I was schemed out of my trophy and got universally trashed. I’m so disappointed.”

The music inside the room reached a wave of soaring drumbeats. Wu Jiakui entered. Long Qi watched her back. She lazily raised her hand holding the cigarette high, smiling and shouting to the people inside, “Best Actress is nothing!”

Someone whistled. Someone shouted loudly, “Woo~”

There was also one person who slowly walked through the crowds, shaking the alcohol in the glass. Ice cubes collided slightly, stirring a small pill.

Long Qi sneered coldly in place.

The person who looked most innocent was precisely the most confident. Layer after layer of Rashomon tirelessly played out. She turned to look at the high-rise buildings outside the balcony, receiving a blast of cold wind. Her long hair rose. When she turned back to look inside, that person shaking the iced drink also slowly emerged from the crowd.

Wu Jiakui walked toward him. Everyone looked at him. Long Qi’s gaze gradually settled on him. She saw his wrist shaking the wine glass, saw his right arm in his pocket, saw the crystalline reflection of ice cubes under the lights, and also saw those red and green lights sweeping across his arm revealing tattoos bright and dim. Her heart stabbed because of seeing his face. The next second, his neck was embraced by Wu Jiakui’s hands.

Wu Jiakui still held a cigarette between her fingers, embracing him, whispering in his ear.

While he listened, his gaze fell several meters away on the balcony, on Long Qi standing alone. The two looked at each other quietly across the carnival main hall. She looked at Jin Yiken, whom she hadn’t seen for two months. He slowly took a sip of alcohol. That nearly dissolved pill entered his mouth along the rim of the glass.

Then he interrupted Wu Jiakui’s whisper at his side.

His hand lightly patted her shoulder once. He said something back in her ear. Wu Jiakui lowered her embracing hands. He placed his glass on a side counter, took an apple from the fruit plate. Now finally officially looking at Long Qi, his index finger pointed at her once. His forehead tilted toward the study.

After pointing at her, he went to the study first. Wu Jiakui stood in place with her arms crossed, looking faintly toward the balcony.

Long Qi sighed again in the cold wind.

His attitude—”Come in and settle accounts with me.”

When heading to the study, the “Asia-America Award” standee in the side hall happened to be shot to pieces. Outside was an atmosphere of carnival. The study, master bedroom, guest bedroom, and other rooms in the private area were quiet. Jin Yiken was quite clear about priorities.

Long Qi entered. He was sitting on the edge of the desk. He’d taken a bite of the apple. It spun in his hand. He lifted his chin toward her abdomen, cutting to the chase: “How did it come about?”

The door wasn’t closed. At this moment, she didn’t say things like “none of your business” as she had two months ago. She only said, “Are you going to give me humanitarian concern now?”

“I at least need to know how I got saddled with this blame.”

He referred to the online rumor-spreading incident.

Long Qi looked at him. Two seconds later, she turned back to close the door. As the door panel closed, the noisy sounds outside were separated by a distant layer. She then undressed, unbuttoning her jacket in front of him. She also lifted and removed her T-shirt from her waist. Jin Yiken’s apple spun in his palm. He watched her impassively. The study’s lighting was dim yellow. Her long hair fell back to her shoulders. The T-shirt fell to the floor. Only a thin-strapped tank top remained. She lifted the tank’s hem, pointing at the scar on her abdomen, saying, “This one? It’s kept me company for nearly four months. Its origin really has to do with you. But are you prepared to listen?”

Jin Yiken didn’t speak, but his gaze at this moment was very charged—the look of “let’s see what else you can make up.” She walked toward him: “So let me say this first, Jin Yiken. You’re really a formidable person. You’re quite capable.”

“These months after breaking up with you have been the hardest period for me. Not a single day have I not thought of you, not a single day have I been willing to accept it. Whenever I see a man, I can’t help comparing him to you. Damn it, not one compares to you. I’ve had my face slapped enough. This body of hard bones has pretty much collapsed. If you really have no interest in me, then I’ll just make do like this for the rest of my life. Today you want to know how this scar came about—fine. But first you have to tell me, if the person being rumored about the day before yesterday was Bai Aiting or Wu Jiakui, would you have done the same thing?”

After finishing this breath, she was already standing two steps away from him. The lighting was dim. Drumbeats from outside pounded in one after another. Jin Yiken looked at her, not answering. She raised her hand, grabbing his collar: “Because right now I have zero ability to resist you, so don’t carelessly concern yourself with me. Either hurry up and get back together with me, or don’t give me the slightest bit of sweetness. Don’t drive me crazy.”

“I’m driving you crazy.”

Jin Yiken specifically repeated this sentence. Their eyes stared intensely at each other. Long Qi said, “Yes. When you look at me once, I want to sleep with you.”

Three seconds after these words fell, she stared at him without blinking. The music outside transmitted layer by layer. The clamor faded away, as if only the male voice’s low singing in the music remained. Then Jin Yiken stood up.

The distance between them suddenly closed. She felt his breath and the scent on his clothes. Consciously retreating four or five steps, her back banged against the wall. Jin Yiken still stood within half a knuckle’s distance from her, a head taller, dominantly blocking her.

“I can’t forget you.” Like nailing it down, and like striking while the iron was hot, she asked, “Do you still love me or not?”

But he just wouldn’t answer.

He listened to her words. He also watched this fiercely beating heart of hers. But as if he had hidden himself in too deep a cocoon, even hearing such a direct and explicit confession, he still needed time to judge. Until three seconds later, her right palm suddenly felt the touch of his fingers.

That moment, her heart subtly lurched. She didn’t look down, staring at his chin in her line of sight. Both breathed heavily. He seemed to be testing—his finger slowly traced her palm. Fingertip and skin rubbed together, moving upward, tracing to her wrist.

Itchy.

As if about to hold on.

As the contact area in her palm expanded, her heartbeat gradually quickened. Like an action stealing love behind the brain’s back, like some obvious harbinger, in the narrow space stripping away her reason and self-control. Her scalp tingled a bit.

A short knock came at the door.

That moment, Jin Yiken looked at the door. She saw new character tattoos at his neck and ear root. Outside came a male voice shouting, “Yiken! We’re out of alcohol. Give me the phone number for your alcohol delivery service!”

His hand gradually left her palm. That just-emerging ambiguity abruptly stopped. Long Qi had nothing good to say at the time. She smiled silently, rubbing her arms and sweeping up her bangs.

Really a capable person—hadn’t answered a single question for her, yet made her lose her armor instead.

Jin Yiken looked like he had returned to normal.

The lighter clicked. He even lit a cigarette. She picked up the clothes from the floor. He squinted at her. She opened the study door. Before closing it, she left one sentence: “Bastard.”

Bang!

Her door-closing sound was huge.

Wu Jiakui in the main hall and friends around her all looked over. People gathered in the side hall also looked this way—at Long Qi wearing only a camisole. She quickly crossed past them. Someone suddenly burst out from the crowd—Fang Xuan’s shout: “Hey, what are you doing?”

After she left, Fang Xuan changed her tune: “Wait, no—what are you doing here? You little bitch, when did you get here!”

The elevator door cut off Fang Xuan’s emerging profanity.

As soon as she entered her own apartment, she threw all her clothes on the floor, throwing them especially hard, venting some anger. Confessing to Jin Yiken felt like stripping herself bare, making her feel uncomfortable all over. The repeatedly questioned responses she couldn’t receive were like a furnace roasting her. She was terribly embarrassed and angry. Pacing back and forth on the carpet couldn’t suppress it. Finally unable to restrain herself, she screamed once.

Damn Jin Yiken.

So embarrassing.

Then she couldn’t sleep.

Downstairs was still “partying”—deafeningly loud. She complained viciously to property management three times. All were coldly handled because “she was a tenant while downstairs was the owner”—angering her again. She went to the fridge for alcohol and found there was no alcohol, no water either.

So damn annoying.

So annoying her stomach hurt.

Around three in the morning, wearing a hoodie, she was in the 24-hour imported supermarket in the residential complex’s ground floor beverage section, loading piles of carbonated drinks and beer into her shopping cart. Then lingering in the snack section, looking at the production date on a package of chocolate beans.

100 grams of chocolate beans—498 kilocalories. She calculated in her head how long she’d need to exercise to offset it. Only then had she finally squeezed the three words “Jin Yiken” out of her mind. But her shoulder suddenly bore weight. Someone pressed their chin on her shoulder while saying, “At this hour you’re eating…”

Long Qi was so scared she almost cursed. The entire package of chocolate beans dropped into the shopping cart. She immediately turned around. Fang Xuan stepped back because of her excessive reaction, head and hands retracted into an oversized hoodie, lazily looking at her: “You scared me.”

“Are you sick or not?”

“Why such a big reaction?”

“I’m just asking—are you sick or not!”

“Eating chocolate at this hour is very problematic, okay? Still haven’t treated me to that crayfish meal.”

She pointed at Long Qi, giving the middle finger. But her sleeves were too long—her fingers couldn’t emerge. Long Qi countered, “What are you doing here at this hour like a ghost?”

“Buying alcohol.”

“Just you alone?”

“The two of us.” Following the voice, she looked back and saw Wu Jiakui pushing a shopping cart at the snack section entrance. She also wore a hooded jacket, both hands resting on the shopping cart handle, propping her chin: “So you two know each other too.”

Long Qi was too lazy to give these two a single word.

She pulled her shopping cart and left. But at the counter checkout, she ran into them again. Wu Jiakui wanted all alcohol. There was only one cashier. Checkout speed was extremely slow. Long Qi crossed her arms and leaned against the counter waiting. Wu Jiakui was also waiting. She suddenly said, “That apartment of yours—the lease is for half a year, right?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Just asking casually.”

“You casually manage quite a lot of things.” Checkout finished. She picked up the plastic bag and walked.

But she remembered that statement from Wu Jiakui.

After returning upstairs, her previous stomach pain faintly intensified. She drank a cup of warm water. She searched through the medicine box but couldn’t find stomach medicine. Helplessly, she called the downstairs property front desk, asking if they had spare stomach medicine.

High-end residential complex service was indeed good. The front desk lady said she’d check if there were any open pharmacies nearby. If found, she’d deliver it up. The anger from being discriminated against earlier went down a bit.

But she couldn’t eat the chocolate beans anymore. After finishing the remaining half cup of warm water, she lay on the sofa, turned on the TV to cover the noise downstairs. The stomach pain eased slightly with warm water. Just as she was about to fall asleep, the phone on the coffee table suddenly rang.

Ban Wei calling.

Her emotions surged up again. She answered without good humor. Ban Wei’s end had a stock of noisy sounds. He asked her, “Qiqi, is Jin Yiken at your place?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Before Ban Wei hung up, she asked back, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. He drank quite a lot just now. Now he’s disappeared. His car keys are also gone. Afraid he’d drive in this state. He’s really not at your place?”

The entrance doorbell rang.

“If you’re afraid he’ll drive, look for him in the parking lot. Is my place a parking lot that you keep asking?”

“Someone came to your place?”

“Property management downstairs, delivering medicine.”

At the entrance, she opened the door. As she said this to Ban Wei, she saw Jin Yiken standing in the hallway outside. The light at the corridor entrance quietly covered his shoulders. His right hand hung at his side holding a string of car keys and a strip of pills. He looked up at her. Her grip on the door weakened.

Ban Wei’s phone was snatched by Fang Xuan. Fang Xuan asked, “Is he at your place or not?”

“I asked—he’s not.” Ban Wei’s voice.

“Why don’t I believe it?”

“…Really not,” Long Qi interrupted, looking at him in the corridor, word by word, replying to Fang Xuan, “Stop annoying me.”

As these words fell, Jin Yiken entered.

The door under her hand closed with his force. Bang—a sound. Long Qi’s lower back hit the chest of drawers. Her phone dropped on the carpet with a slap. She had imagined countless scenarios of him coming back, but never this one. The music from downstairs transmitted distantly, rubbing against the air. She said rapidly, “If you play hooligan with me today and don’t take responsibility, I’ll kill your whole family.”

“Kill me first.”

Jin Yiken’s statement fell resoundingly. The next second he kissed her mouth shut—very efficiently. The chemical reaction from everything she’d said to him earlier erupted at this moment. His thumb immediately pressed her chin demanding she open her mouth. She retreated step by step, following him as they crashed into the side hall dining table. A chair beside the table fell with a thud. She was finally pressed to open her mouth. Jin Yiken’s hand braced the dining table, completely encircling her, not polite at all—nearly a passionate kiss. Her chest heaved violently. Later he lifted her up. Her hand had just steadied on his neck when he suddenly placed her on the main hall sofa.

Her scattered hair was pressed by his arm. Her entire body was also pressed by him. The clamor downstairs didn’t stop. The passionate kiss didn’t stop either. It had been too long—never this long. So this fire ignited at a touch. Both were the seduced party. His hand explored into her waist, removing her hoodie, then immediately removing his own top. Long Qi unzipped his pants.

At the same time, Fang Xuan’s annoying knock came from outside: “Long Qi, come out! I found another kinetic sand video! This one is amazing!”

Jin Yiken held her shoulder. She let out a muffled moan because of the force he suddenly applied—extremely possessive. Fang Xuan still knocked. Jin Yiken’s chin pressed against her forehead. She grabbed the tattoo on his arm. When he propped himself up, she stared at his eyes, eyebrows slightly furrowed, staring continuously. Later her forehead touched his shoulder again. A muffled sound—he went very deep. Fang Xuan pounded once: “Damn, you’re asleep? Didn’t you just answer the phone!”

She continued to ignore it, continued grabbing his arm, grabbing it bright red—just like her own burning ear roots. Then Jin Yiken dominantly pressed against her forehead, hearing him ask in a low voice, “Are you convinced or not?”