Fang Xuan’s obsession with crawfish was truly deep.
…
Jin Yiken got up a quarter of an hour later, roused by Wu’er’s phone call.
When he came down, he wore a T-shirt and black cotton-linen pants. Not having slept enough, his whole demeanor was very zen-like, hands in pockets, coughing as he descended the stairs. Passing by the front desk, he grabbed a blanket, draped it over his shoulders, and ambled over slowly.
By then, Long Qi had already been sitting with Wu Jiakui and Fang Xuan for a while. It was truly hard to imagine how Wu’er had managed to serve them along the way. She bustled about moving luggage and handling check-in procedures while the two young ladies remained leisurely seated on the sofa from start to finish, one person per seat, separated from Long Qi by a coffee table. One drank tea, the other scrolled through her phone. Wu Jiakui never removed her sunglasses, maintaining an incredibly stubborn attitude. Her pet Yorkshire Terrier poked its head and paws out from her platinum bag—small in body but fierce in spirit, barking crisply at the shop owner’s cat, the little braid on its head swaying with each bark.
Because of the silence here, Wu Yishan’s group felt too awkward to come over and greet them.
Only when Jin Yiken took his seat did Wu Jiakui pull her sunglasses down slightly to rest on her nose bridge and look at him.
He pulled cigarettes from the pack, giving one to Wu’er and lighting one for himself. Wu Jiakui crooked her index finger, and he slid the cigarette pack in her direction, then had the inn staff brew a fresh pot of hot tea.
He poured hot tea into Long Qi’s cup.
Long Qi’s index finger waved once in the air, dispersing the smoke. He then pressed his freshly lit cigarette into the ashtray, his whole person reverting to fragile youth state, wrapped in the blanket, leaning back against the chair. “I only called Wu’er.”
“I don’t want to say this in front of your girlfriend, but you knew perfectly well I’ve been stuck to Wu’er every day lately.”
Wu Jiakui spoke leisurely, her velvet-glove-iron-fist nature unchanged. Long Qi sat with knees drawn up, holding hot tea. “Since when did you and Wu’er become so close?”
“Can I tell you later? I’m afraid if I say it now, you’ll splash that tea on me.”
“Whatever. I’m not in the mood to spar with you today.”
“Hey, are those all your classmates?” Fang Xuan raised an eyebrow, her chin pointing toward another part of the lobby where Wu Yishan’s group had gathered, discussing the afternoon’s filming schedule. “Are they having a meeting? Don’t you need to go?”
“No need.”
“Where were you just now?” Jin Yiken turned his head, following up with a question.
“Chatting with Ge Yinling for a bit.”
“Hungry?”
She shook her head. He immediately looked toward Wu Jiakui and the others. “Have you eaten?”
“Already tried the beef noodles here earlier.” Fang Xuan responded.
But Jin Yiken was hungry.
The inn provided meals. He found a menu from under the coffee table and ordered a pile of things. Long Qi asked, “Do they have crawfish?”
“What are you doing?” Fang Xuan was especially sensitive and immediately said, “You think you can satisfy me with crawfish from this place? No way, Long Qi. I’ve already scoped out this whole area—the best crawfish is at the bottom of the mountain. And I won’t eat before eight in the evening, so don’t get any ideas.”
“You’re so difficult.”
“You’re so unreliable.”
“Then make an appointment with me in advance. Right now is my homework time. I have things to do. Do you think I’m as idle as you?”
“I’m accompanying Kuikui on serious business and eating crawfish on the side, okay?”
“What serious business?” With this said, she looked toward Wu Jiakui. “Did you wrap filming?”
Then added another question. “What are you all doing here anyway?”
At that moment, Long Qi had nearly finished the hot tea in her cup.
Wu Jiakui’s elbow rested on the sofa armrest, her index finger teasing the Yorkshire Terrier. “Wu’er’s film—I want a piece of the action.”
…
…
“Say that again.”
Wu Jiakui finally deigned to remove her sunglasses, eyes bright and sparkling. Unfazed by any threat, she replied slowly in three words: “I have money.”
Long Qi maintained her posture, propping up her cheek.
She didn’t splash the hot tea either, just turned her head to look at Jin Yiken, wanting him to provide an explanation.
He clearly knew already, saying breezily, “The contract isn’t signed yet.”
“But the negotiations are almost done. Anyway, I’m optimistic about the ‘Small Town’ film. I want to invest. This is between Wu’er and me, unless you throw down another sum to buy out her rights.”
Wu Jiakui said.
This move was brilliant.
Having secured resources from major directors, her small ambition was starting to lean toward becoming a producer. Her mind worked especially nimbly—she knew Jin Yiken’s backing was stronger than anyone’s, and Lian Shaozi’s resources were rare in the industry. Any work Long Qi participated in would absolutely be pushed in the best direction. As long as the script had no problems, future reputation and box office couldn’t possibly be lacking. A ready-made blue-chip stock. She wanted to earn this money, wanted a share of this title and reputation. Not squeamish about it at all. Completely clear-headed about it.
If she couldn’t seduce Jin Yiken, she’d become his equal, becoming Long Qi’s boss.
Then assuming a “having a rank above you feels so good” attitude, chin propped up as she sat on the sofa, looking at Long Qi. Fang Xuan thought her good friend was incredibly awesome, making clapping gestures beside her. Three seconds later, Long Qi said, “Fine.”
“You’re gritting your teeth.” Fang Xuan said.
A tilt of her forehead, and Fang Xuan didn’t dare say a second sentence. She continued, “I’m unhappy about it, but you’re a veteran actress and Wu’er is a budding director. If you invest money and take shares, you can supervise this film attentively. As long as good work comes out of it, I think it’s acceptable.”
“If you think it’s acceptable, then it’s acceptable.” Jin Yiken’s vegetarian chicken noodles arrived. This person was quite well-behaved, clearly distinguishing when he should speak and when he shouldn’t. Right now was women’s conversation time. He lowered his head to unwrap chopsticks, not introducing topics or taking the lead, not engaging in one-on-one conversation with Wu Jiakui, eating his food.
While Wu Jiakui wore an expression of complete disinterest.
As if a game where she’d just gained advantage had instantly returned to a draw. This topic was finished; she didn’t want to discuss it further.
At the stairway entrance, Nalin and Ge Yinling came downstairs. The sound of their footsteps drew Jin Yiken’s glance—less than half a second before he lowered his head to eat noodles again. Long Qi also looked over. Ge Yinling didn’t look this way, her chin held high. But Nalin cast two light glances this way, both at Jin Yiken.
Long Qi couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Fang Xuan followed her line of sight to look back. Nalin had already taken her seat in the small clique. Fang Xuan’s elbow nudged Wu Jiakui. “That girl acted with you before.”
“Who?”
“Ge Yinling.” Long Qi took over, placing her hand in her pocket. “She was in ‘Border.'”
“Oh.” This shrewd person Wu Jiakui had impressions of such connections and brushed past it lightly. “Xi Jing’s little sister.”
“She and Xi Jing do have a good relationship. She even helped pass on messages.”
“What messages?”
Wu Jiakui was always interested in gossip about Xi Jing, responding quickly. Long Qi’s eyes glanced toward the fruit plate on the coffee table. “Peel me an orange, and I’ll tell you.”
“My nail polish just dried. If you don’t mind carcinogens, I’ll peel it.”
Then Fang Xuan very perceptively grabbed an orange. “I’ll peel it. Oh my, I’ll peel for you all to eat, my little ladies.”
“Nothing major—just has a script she wants me to look at.”
Wu Jiakui’s elbow rested on the armrest, index finger and thumb delicately rubbing together. She didn’t respond, looking at Long Qi. But Long Qi had already picked up on clues from those small movements. “You two have crossed swords at least a dozen times. Tell me, what’s she really up to?”
She smiled.
“You’re really not stupid. If I’m not mistaken, she’s playing misdirection—her signature move.”
“How so?”
“The script Xi Jing wants to show you—I also have a copy. Dual female lead suspense film. The script completion isn’t high, but the two female lead character prototypes are already enough to reserve next year’s box office and buzz. The problem is, Xi Jing and I have the same acting style.”
“You two are competing for the same role.”
Long Qi understood instantly, just like with “Border”—Xi Jing had lost a battle.
“However, Xi Jing knows you and I don’t get along. You want to kill me, I want to destroy you.”
“You want to destroy me?”
“Every moment.” Wu Jiakui replied.
“So she thinks we can’t be in the same production.”
“We really can’t be in the same production. Watching you act irritates me.”
“What a coincidence. You’re only tolerable when you’re in character.”
“But that role especially suits your acting style. You have an eighty percent chance of getting that role.”
“What remains is your mental fortitude. If you take it, we’ll have to be eyesores to each other for half a year.”
“So she’d rather stir up your interest and push the other role into your hands, giving you a year of bright prospects, than let me take that production.” Wu Jiakui said this with especially bright eyes, methodically shaking her head. “Now I want to beat her even more.”
…
Magical brain circuitry.
But Long Qi’s thinking became completely clear, understanding in her heart. She closed the topic and turned to ask, “Are you familiar with Ge Yinling?”
“Director Shao’s niece.” Very meaningful. Wu Jiakui ate a segment of the orange Fang Xuan peeled for her. “Average acting skills.”
Actually, Long Qi felt that private grudges aside, Ge Yinling’s acting was above average among peers. But being evaluated by a powerhouse like Wu Jiakui, she felt partly convinced and partly unconvinced. She didn’t respond, also eating an orange segment. Fang Xuan continued casually looking that way, then pointed. “What a coincidence—she went to the same high school as me.”
“Add a cold lotus root salad.” Jin Yiken wasn’t full yet and told the server.
Long Qi’s chewing stopped. She looked in that direction. “You mean Nalin?”
“Right? I remember she’s called Nalin.” Fang Xuan confirmed. “She used to run errands to buy me milk tea.”
“She’s my roommate.” Long Qi drank tea, the warm cup turning in her palm, warming her hands. “You like ordering people around too?”
“Hey, not really. She loved hanging around me—that wasn’t my requirement.”
“So you know Ge Yinling too?”
“I don’t know her. Not from the same school.”
Oh, so Ge Yinling and Nalin weren’t from the same high school.
Given how close they seemed and Nalin’s posture of standing up for her, she’d thought these two were sisters from high school through college. Long Qi continued drinking tea, the cup bottom grinding against her palm. After a while, she finally asked, “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend who studied in Australia… but got cheated on?”
Fang Xuan chewed her orange, laughing—the kind that found it absurd. “How did this gossip get twisted around as it spread? Who said that?”
“?”
“There was cheating, but it wasn’t the guy—it was the girl.”
Long Qi’s gossip nerve was triggered by Fang Xuan. “You mean it was actually Nalin who cheated?”
“Yeah. She was so promiscuous everyone knew about it, okay? That poor boy specially flew back to see her and caught her red-handed at her place. Later he got so wasted on alcohol he was almost ruined.” Fang Xuan glanced back again. “She’s living quite well though.”
A sharp intake of breath.
The more she learned about Nalin, the more interesting this person became. Long Qi felt she’d encountered someone whose blacklist status exceeded Bai Aiting’s. She said, “Do you remember when the internet rumored I was a habitual mistress?”
“Mm.” Fang Xuan unwrapped chopsticks, attempting to snatch a piece of lotus root from Jin Yiken’s bowl. “I saw it, I saw it all. Did you actually sleep with that Fu-whatever guy?”
Fang Xuan’s chopsticks were blocked by Jin Yiken’s chopsticks, immobile. She protested, “I just want one piece of lotus root.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
He spoke slowly.
“Impossible, impossible.”
“Lao Ping helped me investigate. The first ID that posted about the habitual mistress thing—there.” Long Qi’s chin gestured in that direction. “That was Nalin’s alternate account.”
Wu Jiakui, who had been listening with disinterest for a while, finally became interested in this remarkable woman upon hearing this and turned back to glance. Fang Xuan’s expression was exaggerated, letting out a “Ha!” “She called you a habitual mistress?”
…
“Wow, I thought she’d been keeping a low profile, but she’s this active? This is really my first time seeing someone this hypocritical. I haven’t even told you all the dirt yet. Back in high school, every guy she juggled already had someone. She’s into that. And now she has the gall to call you a habitual mistress? She called you a habitual mistress? Doesn’t she have a problem?”
The repeated phrases showed Fang Xuan’s level of shock. Long Qi said, “She’s done more than just that.”
She pulled out that condom from her pocket and slid it across the coffee table. Wu Jiakui and Fang Xuan both looked at it. Long Qi’s forehead gestured toward Jin Yiken. “While I wasn’t there, got in his car, gave this to him.”
Jin Yiken turned his head to call the owner. “Add a fried rice with egg.”
Wu Jiakui and Fang Xuan both stared at the “evidence” on the table.
Fang Xuan’s mouth remained open, left eyebrow raised. Wu Jiakui showed no major emotional fluctuation, only the corner of her mouth hooking up—an extremely subtle mocking smile. Two seconds later, she looked at Jin Yiken. “If you dare give that kind of trash even the slightest opportunity, I’ll personally execute you today to wash away the shame of never having seduced you back then.”
He laughed.
But his laughter was at this moment, at the aura that had inexplicably coalesced in this sofa area. Using chopsticks to pick up peanuts, he ate while shaking his head and laughing.
“Are you feeling quite proud of yourself?” Long Qi turned her head.
“No.”
He responded instantly, then expressionlessly lowered his head to eat noodles again.
The best was yet to come. Long Qi pulled out the dashcam recording she’d been saving and placed it on the table. When she played it, Wu Jiakui and Fang Xuan both watched. Wu’er, who had returned after completing check-in procedures, was probably startled by the aura here and said, “Why does everyone here look like they have a flame shooting from the top of their heads?”
“Girl stuff.” Jin Yiken said.
When the video reached the part where he said “I’ve dealt with girls like you before,” Long Qi belatedly reacted, her palm slashing toward his shoulder. “Who else have you dealt with like this?”
Knocking over the spoonful of fried rice he’d just scooped up.
His elbow rested on his knee as he turned to look at her.
But pig-teammate Fang Xuan’s first reaction was to look at Wu Jiakui. Wu Jiakui’s face instantly turned cold. “I was high-class.”
“I believe you, Kuikui.”
“Then turn your head back.”
“Oh.”
Meanwhile, Long Qi still looked at Jin Yiken.
He said, “Many.”
“Go ahead and say.”
“How about you guess first? I’ll test your observational skills.”
Then his shoulder took another slash from Long Qi. He laughed wickedly, and after provoking her enough, finally said, “Your husband faces temptation no less than you do, but your husband is amazing—he only loves you.”
“Have the guts to give some examples.”
He put down his chopsticks. “In senior year, there was a substitute art teacher, surname Jiang, tall, thin waist. Half the male teachers in school pursued her. Old Zheng who taught math and Old Duan who taught PE fought over her with drinks, but she resigned within three months. Do you remember?”
…
She nodded.
“I remember. Quite pretty.”
“She texted me every week, the level of concern absolutely exceeded teacher-student boundaries. She’d constantly call me to the art room to move plaster statues. Her computer would break every few days. Once when I was helping her fix it, she fell asleep against my back. She resigned because I brought you to the art room to make out. Her fantasy shattered; she couldn’t take it.”
Long Qi’s neck stiffened as she listened.
“There was a period when you were shooting for magazines and got to know several magazine staff. There was an administrative director who was very enthusiastic toward you, surname Gan. Do you remember?” He continued.
Silence for a while.
“That sister hit on you too?”
“Her intentions were so obvious that probably only you couldn’t see them. She said she was helping you but asked for my phone number. Scanning a QR code, she’d already touched my hand three times. From the day she added me as a friend, she sent social media selfies for a whole week straight—but blocked them from you. She told me about every trivial matter and wanted me to call her ‘sister.’ If it didn’t involve your social circle, I wouldn’t have talked to her for more than two sentences.”
“You’re quite popular with the sisters.”
“There are way more peers. Do you still want to hear? Your husband could talk for three days and three nights.”
“I don’t.”
Over. He picked up his spoon again and lowered his head to eat a mouthful of fried rice.
“You guys played pretty big in high school.” Fang Xuan remarked.
“Tall, thin waist.” Wu Jiakui repeated Jin Yiken’s descriptors. “You felt her waist?”
“I have eyes.” He looked up, forehead gesturing toward Long Qi. “I know all her body measurements. Believe it or not?”
“So is mine thinner to hold or hers?” Long Qi asked.
“I said I didn’t feel hers.”
“Kuikui’s waist is also super thin.” Fang Xuan interjected.
“You felt it, right?” Long Qi asked again.
“You and your boyfriend have even kissed. Now that I think about it, that was really thrilling.” Wu Jiakui said.
“It’s all in the past.” He replied.
“How many times did you two kiss?” Long Qi asked Wu Jiakui.
“Just once.” Jin Yiken answered quickly.
“Oh my god.” Wu Jiakui said. “Don’t the drunk ones count?”
Jin Yiken pointed at her once, refusing to joke. Fang Xuan slapped her knee. “What? He got drunk at your place?”
“Let’s have a drinking session tonight.” Wu’er said.
This topic extended infinitely outward, one person at a time. After three rounds of responses, Jin Yiken finally saw through it and completely put down his chopsticks, rubbing his face with a weary expression. “I feel like I’m talking to five hundred people.”
…
At that moment, Wu Yishan’s group finished their small meeting.
Wu Yishan came over with a small notebook. Because Long Qi’s angle allowed her to see, she made a “are you free?” gesture, index finger pointing outside, hinting that the afternoon filming was about to start.
In that crowd, Ge Yinling and Nalin gradually got up. Nalin looked this way. She might have recognized her old classmate Fang Xuan—for once looking like she was stroking her arm with a somewhat uncertain appearance, walking straight outside.
“Is your production worth watching?” At this moment, Wu Jiakui propped up her forehead, not even glancing at the group behind her, stroking the Yorkshire Terrier. “I happen to be free.”