“Judging from your tone, you seem pretty confident?”
“What could happen.”
“As long as nothing’s wrong, then I won’t bullshit with them either.”
Ban Wei said, then chatted about a few other things and hung up. Lao Ping also sent a message at this moment, urging her to get to work. While standing up, she opened Jin Yiken’s WeChat, found a photo from long ago of them together at the lighthouse in her album, and clicked send.
After that, she collected her thoughts.
As if the three souls and six spirits that had been floating around finally truly returned to their positions. She felt she should work properly. Lao Ping was quite busy this day. The film cooperation with the fat guy regarding the artist surnamed Xu had fallen through. He was busy with aftermath. Throughout the journey in the nanny van, he was on the phone. Long Qi was reading a script. Lao Ping had received it from Assistant Wang after the play ended yesterday. He said only Assistant Wang came yesterday—Zang Xipu didn’t come.
She read the script while chewing candy.
The script’s content told a story that took place in a remote small city.
Unlike the previous one that required fighting and killing, also unlike “Border’s” grand theme, this story was quite plain. The female protagonist was born into a traditional working-class family but was naturally resistant to the interpersonal relationships in the small city and the rule-following days. Her entire adolescence was spent playing hide-and-seek with fate—a tug-of-war between self and family affection, an observation window of desire and human nature. From beginning to end, she was a small character, but there was an indescribable sense of tension. She originally didn’t like reading scripts. This one, she actually read page by page to the end. After finishing, she felt a bit melancholy. Lao Ping said: “Zang Xipu’s side’s meaning is, if you’re interested in this script, have a meal and chat. If you’re not interested, just treat it as having read a novel. No need to mind.”
“Didn’t you say dinner was arranged for tomorrow night?”
“I’m afraid you’ll run off,” Lao Ping replied. “I’m afraid once your head gets hot, you’ll just fly back following someone. Then what about my schedule here? So I can only create some matters first to hold you back.”
Long Qi looked at him. Her cheeks moved slowly.
Lao Ping said: “So are you interested or not?”
“So was dinner actually arranged or not?”
“Not yet.”
“Then arrange it for tonight.” She said. “I’m interested.”
Lao Ping quickly went to arrange it.
Perhaps her first display of initiative at work made him feel doubly gratified. This time he arranged things very efficiently. The meeting place was at a five-star hotel restaurant. He didn’t bring the team—just the two of them. Fewer people. He switched to an SUV sponsored by the program. After the variety show recording wrapped up, he personally drove her there. It was five fifteen in the evening, just approaching dinner time. Lao Ping had a driver all year round. At this moment, his hands were rusty. In the underground parking garage, he spent ten minutes backing up and still couldn’t get into the space. Long Qi lounged in the passenger seat, saying he was incompetent—no skill, so don’t get itchy hands insisting on driving a new car.
“Less talk.” Lao Ping said.
“Let me back it up for you. I just got my license last month.”
“Less talk, Long Qi.”
“I can drive a Lamborghini like it’s flying.”
Lao Ping loudly tsked, especially annoyed with her. Immediately after, the car’s rear banged with a sound. The entire car body swayed from the resistance. He immediately looked at the rearview mirror. Long Qi was still lounging in the passenger seat. The packet of chocolate beans she’d just opened had dropped a few pieces from the shaking. She was lowering her head picking up chocolate beans from her clothes. Lao Ping urgently opened the car door and got out to check. She sat there idly, looking at the rearview mirror outside the car window.
Lao Ping had hit the car body in the adjacent parking space.
About ten minutes later, the car owner received the message and came.
She was a tall, thin woman with short hair, looking around twenty-five, wearing a T-shirt, cargo pants, and flip-flops. Dressed quite casually. Before she arrived, Lao Ping went around to the passenger side, telling Long Qi to close the window and not get out. But before he could speak, his face was blocked by the rising window. She sat inside with an attitude of “you handle it yourself, it’s not my business” written all over her face. Her crisis management was even smoother than Lao Ping’s. Lao Ping was quite angry. Thinking about it, there was nothing wrong with it. He harshly knocked on the window once, then urgently went to handle the accident.
But when the other party arrived, looked at the car, then looked at Lao Ping, she opened with: “Hey? You’re Uncle Ping, right?”
Lao Ping looked at her. Long Qi in the passenger seat also looked at her.
“Yo, what a coincidence,” this woman looked at the car again, smiling, not looking like she wanted to pursue the matter. Instead, she extended her hand to Lao Ping. “Hello, Uncle Ping. My name is Wu’er. Teacher Zang and I are waiting for you at the restaurant on the hotel’s fifth floor.”
Wu’er.
Long Qi took Lao Ping’s briefcase from the back seat, searched inside for the script, pulled it out and flipped to the cover. Below was a line in size five font.
—Screenwriter: Wu’er.
She looked outside again. Lao Ping seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, pointing backward to discuss the car problem. Wu’er waved her hand: “It’s fine, Uncle Ping. I just looked—just a small scratch, no problem. My car was pretty old anyway.”
“Lao Ping.”
At this moment, another person came.
When she looked up, she just happened to see Zang Xipu leisurely strolling from the corridor. What she saw was his profile. His hands in his pants pockets. His quite conspicuous flower arm. Like he’d come following Wu’er. Still his unsmiling appearance. He said something similar to Wu’er: “What a coincidence.”
Then he looked toward the passenger seat: “Is the person okay?”
“Won’t be a problem,” Wu’er answered. “Just the car’s rear bumped a bit. Backing up problem.”
Lao Ping laughed awkwardly.
Zang Xipu looked at the parking space again: “Changed cars?”
“No, recording a show in this area. Sponsored car. I really haven’t touched a steering wheel in over two years—my hands are indeed rusty.”
When Lao Ping said this, Zang Xipu smiled slightly, patting his arm.
“I’ll back it up.”
After these words fell, he walked into the corridor between parking spaces. Long Qi watched from the passenger seat. As the car door clicked open, the plastic packaging of chocolate beans rustled in her hand. She lowered her raised knee, sitting up straighter. Zang Xipu took the seat. The car interior shook slightly, then quickly stabilized. The door banged shut again. The cabin fell into enclosed quietness. She looked toward the driver’s seat, breathing. Zang Xipu likewise glanced at her. She said: “Hello, Teacher Zang.”
“Long time no see.”
“Only four days.”
“Quite long.”
The car started, moving forward. The long hair on Long Qi’s shoulders moved slightly. Lao Ping outside stared at them intently. Zang Xipu said: “Left quite early after the awards ceremony.”
He was referring to the AMA Awards four days ago where Wu Jiakui had “narrowly lost.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Suddenly understood the meaning of some words Teacher Zang said. Felt quite boring.”
The steering wheel turned in his hands. The car slowly reversed.
“Look more, Long Qi. Avoid generalizing from a single instance.”
“What circle is Teacher Zang trying to introduce me to this time?”
He smiled: “The biased one.”
Adding another sentence: “Feeling better physically?”
She wanted to ask what was wrong with her body. Immediately remembered yesterday she’d used this excuse to decline his invitation in order to “mess around” with Jin Yiken. The words choked at her lips. She seamlessly continued: “Much better.”
“Was it a cold?”
“Mm.”
“Although this is a tropical city, there’s a typhoon coming recently. The climate is turning cool. When going out at night, pay attention to keeping warm. Colds most easily relapse when almost recovered.”
He said.
The four words “going out at night” were quite interesting.
Then the car smoothly entered the parking space. Engine off, pulled handbrake, unfastened seatbelt. He conveniently helped her press the passenger seatbelt button. His hand touched hers doing the same operation. Click. The seatbelt bounced upward.
She didn’t look at Zang Xipu.
After withdrawing her hand, she opened the passenger door and got out. Zang Xipu closed the driver’s door. Lao Ping caught the car keys he tossed: “Well, thank you, Teacher Zang.”
Wu’er looked at Long Qi.
Zang Xipu just said: “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll introduce you at the table.”
Wu’er used to be a student at a famous domestic medical university.
After studying for three years, she dropped out, choosing to study abroad and further her studies in film-related majors. She’d shot quite a few interesting short films, met quite a few people with stories. The script in Long Qi’s hands was written by her. The story was her own. The only designated director for this script was also her. When Zang Xipu introduced her, he didn’t spend much ink. But Wu’er was a very interesting person. She had no generational concerns with Zang Xipu and kept interrupting. So Long Qi quickly heard her complete story. She asked: “So this is your personal experience?”
“Artistically processed.” Wu’er replied.
“Your ending—the female protagonist ultimately appears to break free from her family of origin, but she’s still living quite miserably,” Long Qi’s finger scratched at her chopsticks. “Too despairing. I don’t really like it.”
Wu’er had tiger teeth when she smiled. Long Qi was elbowed by Lao Ping: “Our female comrade here doesn’t have much cultural refinement. Sorry. I think this ending is quite artistic.”
“Uncle Ping,” Wu’er said. “You’re the second person I’ve met who praised this ending.”
“Ah?”
“My script has been circulating in the literature departments of major film and television companies. Every time it’s a rejected draft that can’t even pass the first review. Most people can’t even finish the opening. Those who finish the opening think the story’s too plain. Those who finish the story think the ending’s too absurd. You’re really something—your vision is as high as Teacher Zang’s. The first person to praise this ending was him.”
“Oh…” Lao Ping actually hadn’t weighed out whether Wu’er was praising him or had seen through that he hadn’t even read the script and was mocking him. He responded quite carefully. Long Qi chimed in.
“It’s okay. Not to the degree of being unable to finish the opening.”
Zang Xipu looked at her: “Are you still interested in acting, Long Qi?”
“I’m interested in this role.”
“Interested in what about it?” Wu’er asked.
“Resembles me.” Her finger knocked on the script, straightforward and direct to the point.
“But you’re too beautiful,” Wu’er said. “This show can’t let you wear makeup.”
“You just haven’t seen me without makeup. I look even better without makeup than with.”
Lao Ping felt her answer’s direction wasn’t quite right. He kicked her under the table again, adding: “You can rest assured on this point. We don’t have high requirements for the camera. Artist requirements won’t override the script. Everything serves the plot.”
“You can also rest assured about acting skills.” Zang Xipu tilted his forehead toward Wu’er.
“This show also can’t pay you a salary.” Wu’er continued.
This time Lao Ping wasn’t in a hurry to answer for Long Qi. Long Qi’s chopsticks under her hand poked at a piece of beef. Zang Xipu looked over: “This is where the problem lies.”
“This…” Three seconds later, Lao Ping asked, “Meaning…?”
“This isn’t a film that can help people earn box office. I have five hundred thousand in hand. Teacher Zang sponsored me with five hundred thousand as a favor. The investment I can pull in is only one million. Two million to scrape together a crew to shoot a film is already tough. There’s no extra money to pay actors sufficient wages. Currently, the confirmed actors in the group are all newcomers. Compensation is below industry standard by fifty percent. Originally I wanted to shoulder the main role myself—self-direct, self-write, self-act to save money. So I didn’t leave extra funds at all. But Teacher Zang disagrees,” Wu’er shrugged. “He said the lead must have soul. Damn, I don’t understand—I’m playing myself and he still complains I have no soul. Then he recommended you to me.”
“Simply put, I’m very unreliable. Are you willing to play along with me or not?”
After Wu’er calmly stated the situation, Lao Ping said nothing. The chopsticks in Long Qi’s hand swayed left and right. Zang Xipu said: “Wu’er’s script is very good. Any actor in an upward phase who hasn’t been typecast yet—if they can perform this show well, it will benefit greatly for later development and positioning.”
It was clear he quite liked Wu’er’s script. And his wording leaned toward Lao Ping’s commercial thinking. Lao Ping spoke: “Yes, Teacher Zang. The script is indeed very good. I think there’s still room for discussion. The compensation issue isn’t major, but I value post-production returns more.”
Wu’er understood.
“If you want to sign a contract with me, regarding compensation, I can only promise you a post-production share. After the investor’s big cut, it’s yours. But cash—I can’t produce it.”
Very straightforward.
Lao Ping still wanted to speak. Long Qi interrupted the conversation rhythm: “Can I let another person look at this script?”
“Who?”
A person who has money but nowhere to spend it.
Five minutes later, the electronic version of Wu’er’s script was sent to Jin Yiken’s email. She sent Jin Yiken a voice message, briefly introducing the current situation, asking him to look at the script and see if he was interested.
When doing these things, she was in the corridor outside the private room. The photo sent to Jin Yiken this morning still hadn’t received a reply. He’d probably sat on a three-hour flight then urgently went into meetings. At this moment, he was probably catching up on sleep. She pushed the door back into the private room. Lao Ping had already chatted with Wu’er about other topics. Earlier the two had been going at each other with one knife and one arrow over the compensation issue. Now they were chatting about her school days. They laughed so hard Wu’er slapped the table.
Long Qi sat down.
“So you really are such an energetic person.” Wu’er used her pinky to wipe tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. “I thought this was the route you took. Teacher Zang said when you were young on set, you confronted everyone head-on. Especially interesting. I didn’t believe it.”
She looked at Zang Xipu. He sat leisurely, looking back at her faintly.
“Back then I was mixed together with another energetic person.” She replied.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Wu’er followed up smoothly. “Saying you really debuted with this temperament—two possibilities. Either your family has money and power so you can return home anytime without fear, or you were spoiled by someone in a high position who’s even more energetic than you. This person is either dad or boyfriend.”
“Nonsense. She was born with this stinking temper.” Lao Ping replied.
The server knocked and entered, bringing a new round of dishes. The beef at this place was quite good. Lao Ping chatted back with Wu’er about the film topic. Her phone dinged. Thinking it was Jin Yiken replying, she looked down. It was a Weibo link Ban Wei sent her.
Following text message: Do you know about this matter?
What matter?
She clicked in.
As the page transferred to Weibo, the message bar popped up with accumulated tens of thousands of AT and comment messages. The grand occasion was just like when she’d been slandered for having a child before marriage. She’d clearly already cleared the message bar once this morning. At this moment, Lao Ping’s phone also rang. The female assistant called. He went out to answer the phone.
The link Ban Wei sent her transferred to a paparazzi studio’s Weibo homepage—a video message posted twenty minutes ago, one minute long.
Zang Xipu was discussing script details with Wu’er. Long Qi put down her chopsticks and clicked the video to watch.
The video opening was background introduction.
The reporter claimed to be executing a routine task following a Buddha-level figure, following the Buddha’s itinerary far away to France. From October to December, they hadn’t photographed any movement. Just when about to close up shop dismally, they received an “unexpected delight.” Connecting to a rumor spread at the beginning of April this year, they found it quite interesting.
As the background narration finished, the camera showed the entrance of a certain French hospital. Shot from a far distance, quite shaky. In the shot was a lady wearing an entire outfit of high fashion. Her age couldn’t be determined. Her figure and temperament were both very good. She walked with swift steps. In the blink of an eye, she entered the hospital door, disappearing from the shot. Subtitles appeared in the lower left corner of the video: This is footage taken in November. During task execution, the reporter coincidentally encountered Ms. Lian Shaozi.
Popular science: Lian Shaozi, former editor-in-chief of the famous financial magazine “Jie” Chinese edition, famous media personality in the eighties, current general manager of Huage Group, has two sons, eldest son Jin Yiken.
She froze slightly.
Backed up to watch again. Yes, the person in the video was indeed Jin Yiken’s mother. Long Qi had seen photos. And last November, his mother was indeed in France.
But why photograph his mother?
Not right.
She leaned back a bit.
Jin Yiken’s sister was born at the end of last December. So in November, his mother should still be pregnant, but in the video…
No belly showing.
She recalled the material Ban Wei mentioned this morning. Originally thought it was high school matters being dug up again. Unexpectedly, this time it was aimed at Jin Yiken’s family matters. Zang Xipu and Wu’er’s conversation gradually faded. The video continued playing. The lower left subtitles switched: End of December, when the reporter was preparing to close up shop, they again coincidentally encountered Ms. Lian at the same hospital.
This time the shot was much steadier. What was captured was Jin’s mother walking out through the automatic sensing door of the hospital. Her figure remained as before. She even wore a pair of conspicuous blue high heels. Her posture was straight. She wore sunglasses. Carried a bag in her hand. A girl followed beside her. The girl’s arms cradled a baby.
Long Qi watched this one-second video frame.
The reporter zoomed in on the girl’s face. But even without zooming, she recognized her. She couldn’t be more familiar with this person’s face.
This was Bai Aiting.
Having disappeared without a trace in a foreign land for months, loving Jin Yiken to death, carrying half her youth’s resentment—Bai Aiting was now holding a baby, her figure slightly swollen, accompanying Jin Yiken’s mother in and out of a French hospital.
The video introduced that this hospital was a local French obstetrics and gynecology hospital.
Her finger strength was somewhat weak.
The scene quickly switched. The reporter pulled back to the illegitimate child suspicion incident at the beginning of April. No conclusion, no determination. But side by side, they put out photos of her and Bai Aiting, placing a huge question mark on the subtitle “child’s birth mother” in the middle. The pointing intention was extremely strong. Absurd beyond measure. She couldn’t watch anymore. At this moment, Lao Ping pushed the door in. She was just irritably smoothing her hair, finding Jin Yiken’s phone number in her contacts.
Her undisguised movement amplitude attracted Zang Xipu’s attention. He looked at her. Lao Ping apologetically nodded his forehead toward Zang Xipu, coming to Long Qi’s ear saying: “If reporters call you later, don’t answer any of them.”
Wu’er was looking at her phone at this moment.
Long Qi had no mood to deal with Lao Ping. Jin Yiken’s phone was in busy status. She called three times and all were like this. When she dialed the fourth time, she stood up pushing the chair, walking around in the private room. Wu’er stared at her phone saying: “Huh, you’re on hot search again.”
Zang Xipu took Wu’er’s phone.
Still couldn’t get through!
When the phone left her ear, it carried a surge of anger. The hair by her neck was pulled. She tapped frantically on the keyboard, telling Jin Yiken to call back. At the same time, Zang Xipu finished watching the video content. Lao Ping was about to pull her. He stopped him with a hand gesture. Long Qi immediately flipped through her phone contacts. Originally wanted to find Si Bolin, but when her finger slid to the “Bai” note, she paused.
Earlier, to prevent her from causing trouble, she’d specifically saved her number for convenient rejection.
At this moment, her finger stopped before this number. Her eyes stared. Breathing slowly. Zang Xipu was walking toward her. She pressed the dial button, bringing it to her ear.
……
Beep—
It connected.
Bai Aiting was still using this number.
Then each time that side rang, her blood boiled once. Her head was very hot. Hesitating, waiting for the other party to answer. But there was also a sense of guilt for acting on her own behind Jin Yiken’s back. Entangled with an increasingly strong desire to know. Ultimately becoming a fireball that couldn’t be extinguished. Lao Ping again apologized to Zang Xipu for Long Qi’s loss of composure. He replied: “It’s fine. Her matter is important.”
Click.
Bai Aiting answered.
The second after answering, Long Qi asked straight to the point: “Where are you?”
“Who’s this?”
Bai Aiting was feigning ignorance! She one hundred percent could recite her phone number by heart. Long Qi pushed away Lao Ping who looked like he wanted her to calm down: “Your grandmother!”
Wu’er tsked. Zang Xipu leaned against the table edge. She continued asking: “What are you doing in France?”
“Does it concern you?” Bai Aiting entered her topic, paused, slowly replying, “He hasn’t told you anything, has he?”
“Said what?”
“What do you know?”
“What exactly are you doing in France!”
“What do you want to know by asking this?”
Long Qi smoothed her hair, walking by the table, pacing. That sentence had long formed in her heart, crashing and clamoring. But she just couldn’t ask it. The server knocked on the door again to deliver food. Just entering halfway, he withdrew at Zang Xipu’s gesture and closed the door properly.
“Does Jin Yiken’s sister have anything to do with you or not?”
Finally, she flung down her hand and asked.
Bai Aiting’s side was very quiet.
Inside the private room was also very quiet.
The air conditioning’s cold wind hissed. The phone microphone picked up the other party’s breathing. She was like waiting for a verdict, her finger joints gripping the phone rigid. Five seconds later, Bai Aiting said: “Yes.”
……
“What relationship?”
“I gave birth to her.”
……
……
“Jin Yiken’s mother,” she asked word by word, continuing, “took you to France to give birth?”
“Right.”
“Why?”
“His mother accompanied me to give birth in France, then took the child back to the Jin family. What do you think is the reason?”
……
Right, why?
Glaringly obvious, self-evident.
“When did it happen?” The earlier ferocity seemed to instantly disappear, drained dry. But even if her breath was like a gossamer thread, even if she didn’t want to hear at all, she still asked: “You two.”
“You calculate backward.”
“I want you to say it!” She turned back forcefully. Lao Ping was shocked by her sudden emotion and stepped back. “Tell me clearly every detail from origin to process, otherwise I won’t believe it!”
“Do I care whether you believe or not?”
Bai Aiting replied this sentence. Long Qi immediately replied: “Calculating backward from any time, this matter is impossible. He doesn’t fucking like you!”
“I don’t care.”
She spoke, slowly adding: “Or, you try asking him. Listen to his tone when mentioning this child—is it open and aboveboard, or avoiding the important and dwelling on the trivial.”
……
When Bai Aiting’s words fell, the phone had a call waiting.
Jin Yiken calling back.
Long Qi’s fingers trembled slightly. There was a bit of low tinnitus. She answered the call and brought it to her ear. Before he could speak, she asked: “Is that child your mother’s biological child or not?”
His side had multiple people’s clamor. He paused, replying: “You also know now. No.”
Breathing.
Asked again: “Is the child Bai Aiting’s?”
Jin Yiken replied quickly this time: “It has nothing to do with her. Did you talk to her on the phone?”
“Then whose child is it? Didn’t you say she’s been in England? Then what’s she doing in France? Why is your mother accompanying her!”
After several consecutive questions smashed over, Zang Xipu supported her elbow. Jin Yiken listened on that end, saying: “Wait a moment. I have a call. I’ll call you back later.”
……
……
The consecutive days of light rain finally at this moment brewed into a heavy rainstorm, arriving at this tropical island city together with the typhoon. The air conditioning’s cold wind blew the back of her neck. The private room’s window glass rattled loudly. Long Qi listened to his “avoiding the important and dwelling on the trivial” response. No expression. No light in her eyes.
“Liar.”
Before his phone hung up, she said.
Jin Yiken’s movement clearly paused. He didn’t hang up. He just listened to these two words. Across over two thousand kilometers of radio waves, quietly listening to these two words. As if she could feel his furrowed brow in this second, feel his hand suspended in mid-air. But she was also burning, burning until her brain banged and cracked. She turned and threw the dinner plate by her hand onto the floor. Wu’er across stood up. Lao Ping called out her name. She clutched the tablecloth, suppressing her choked voice, forcefully saying: “Liar!”