On a June evening, the blood-red sunset hung low over the mountaintop, ready to fall.

The crew of the martial arts epic “Sword Breaking Startling Heaven” had finished filming at the outdoor location and had been back shooting in Hengdian for nearly a month. The entire production had entered its tense final stage. Xi Tang arrived punctually at the Number One Mountain set. She didn’t need to style her hair, so she finished makeup in just over half an hour and came out to wander around. She saw the deputy director already in position, with everyone waiting for darkness to fall. Tonight, they would be shooting a major night scene of the attack on Bright Moon Manor.

The weather forecast predicted rain in the next couple of days, so everyone wanted to complete the main shots before the downpour arrived.

In the darkness, an entire scene of clanging swords, spears, and arrows rang out. A long row of extras with torches illuminated half the night sky. Everyone was fully focused as they filmed until nearly midnight. The director finally called “cut,” and then announced a ten-minute break. The assistants of all the actors, both major and minor, rushed forward—some wiping sweat, some touching up makeup, some bringing water.

Xi Tang walked out. The set was a constructed manor with a beautiful artificial lake where the moon was reflected.

“Want one?” someone beside her offered a cigarette.

Xi Tang turned to look—it was one of the stunt performers from the same production. She smiled and took one.

Racing to finish work and filming night scenes was extremely exhausting. Everyone in Hengdian was used to it. From directors and big stars down to extras and small-time script supervisors, almost everyone had the habit of smoking or drinking coffee to stay alert.

Xi Tang smoked silently. It was all worth it. In this drama, she had many episodes. After two months with the production, her income would almost equal half a year’s earnings.

Ni Kai Lun had informed her today that in another two months, the money she earned could start to repay Master Thirteen’s debt.

As of this month, Zhao Ping Jin had kept her as his mistress for three months. The card in Ni Kai Lun’s hand received money punctually every month, clearing the interest she owed.

It was said that the script for the next project was already being negotiated. He would invest money, and Xi Tang would start to take on lead roles.

Three months, and she had only seen him once. He hadn’t even touched her hand.

That night, the filming went smoothly, and they completed the scheduled progress. When the director called it a wrap, it was 2 AM. Xi Tang went with several stunt doubles and martial performers from the same production to Old Shen’s place for a massage.

Coming out of the massage parlor, everyone was grimacing in pain, arm in arm, zigzagging down the street. There was a faint earthy smell of an approaching storm in the air. Even in the middle of the night, the streets were still bustling with noise. At a street corner, Xi Tang waved goodbye to her colleagues with laughter and headed toward the half-sloped road leading to her small house.

As she emerged from the dark street corner, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky. She looked up, almost as if by telepathy, her heart skipped a beat, and her footsteps stopped.

Under the dim streetlights beside the residential building, the weather was extremely stuffy. Moths and rain ants danced in the light. In the distance, a figure stood by the roadside.

Tall and slender, wearing white pants and a black polo shirt.

At that moment, a muffled thunder exploded, and large raindrops began to fall.

Xi Tang habitually raised her hand to cover her head, only to remember her bald head, completely unafraid of getting wet. She said, “Let’s take shelter from the rain first.”

People on the street ran in all directions. Xi Tang stood at the edge of the street. A man in an ancient costume rushed over, about to collide with her, when Zhao Ping Jin reached out to protect her: “Don’t panic.”

Xi Tang only focused on running toward the house across the street: “Why didn’t you call?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.” Zhao Ping Jin followed behind her, his body shielding her on the inner side of the road to prevent anyone else from bumping into her.

Xi Tang stopped under the eaves, felt her pocket, and realized her phone had been on silent mode at the set.

“Did you drive here?”

Xi Tang saw car keys in his hand when she looked down.

Zhao Ping Jin nodded.

Xi Tang took out her house key. This was a local residential building. The first floor was a small shop that the landlord had rented to a couple from Shanxi who sold breakfast, now closed for the night.

The summer downpour fell behind them like overturned buckets.

Zhao Ping Jin followed her up the stairs.

It was an old-style house with cement stairs. She wore a large white robe and had a strange fragrance about her.

Xi Tang opened the door on the second floor. Zhao Ping Jin entered, looked around, sat directly on the sofa, relaxed his body against it, and took her cup to drink water.

Xi Tang was very calm: “Please wait a moment while I remove my makeup.”

Her face still bore the heavy makeup from the night shoot, giving her a vague, unreal feeling.

Zhao Ping Jin nodded, watching her enter the bathroom.

He then examined the room again. It was a small single room with a small kitchen, all visible at a glance.

The room was not well-lit, with a simple bed covered in a messy beige checkered bedspread, and a pile of cluttered clothes on top. The nightstand held books and various bottles, along with a photo frame of her with her mother. The sofa was old and didn’t match the color of the coffee table, probably left by some previous tenant. In the corner was a huge ceramic jar stuffed with dried wild chrysanthemums. Against the wall stood a natural wood-colored wardrobe that looked like it might have been added by Huang Xi Tang.

Mismatched furniture and that was all.

For some reason, he liked her room as soon as he entered. The room was filled with her presence, that dusty, ship-sailing-through-the-night feeling as if it could continue sailing toward the end of the world.

A thick stack of scripts lay on the coffee table. On the sofa armrest was a box—a half-empty pack of soft-pack Suyan cigarettes and a green plastic lighter.

Zhao Ping Jin glanced at them, crushed the cigarettes, and threw them into the nearby trash can.

Xi Tang came out quickly—a completely bald head, a clean, freshly washed face showing a few small freckles on her left cheek, and faint dark circles under her eyes.

She didn’t ask his opinion of her room, knowing he actually had nothing to do with any of it. She only asked, “Have you had dinner?”

Zhao Ping Jin shook his head.

Xi Tang knew it was because he disliked airplane food.

She got up and went to the kitchen: “I cooked some rice porridge this afternoon.”

Zhao Ping Jin slowly stood up and followed her to the kitchen. She took a bowl from the cupboard, washed it carefully under the tap, and then ladled a bowl of porridge for him.

“What are you doing?” Xi Tang held the porridge and placed it in front of him, but her wrist was suddenly grabbed by Zhao Ping Jin.

Zhao Ping Jin gripped her wrist, turned it over, looked at her elbow, and then lifted half her sleeve. He didn’t speak, just looked long and darkly in silence.

Of course, there was nothing good to see on her arm—all bruises, black and blue, with broken skin and red, swollen infections.

Zhao Ping Jin had never shown her a pleasant expression, and now his brow furrowed even more, his lips turning a bit pale: “What happened?”

Xi Tang embarrassedly tried to withdraw her hand: “Filming action scenes—bumps and bruises are unavoidable.”

Zhao Ping Jin released her with a dark face.

Xi Tang felt awkward. She stood up and opened the only window in the room. Raindrops blown by the wind came in. She turned on the fan to disperse the stuffy summer heat that persisted even in the middle of the night.

Raindrops pattered loudly against the window. The two sat quietly at the small coffee table in the living room with two bowls of thick white porridge, a dish of greens, and a dish of pickled radish.

Zhao Ping Jin took one bite, then spat it all out.

Xi Tang was startled for a moment, then still smiled: “If you can’t eat it, then don’t. What a waste.”

Zhao Ping Jin secretly frowned and endured the pain, the taste of porridge still in his mouth. He could only taste it once. The porridge she cooked was especially fragrant, but unfortunately, he couldn’t eat it.

He pushed it away with a frown: “It tastes bad.”

Xi Tang said nothing, silently drinking her porridge with a dish of boiled greens, finishing the entire bowl.

Zhao Ping Jin leaned back on the sofa, constantly frowning: “Is this what you eat every night?”

Xi Tang answered as if it were the most natural thing: “Yes.”

Zhao Ping Jin said angrily: “I give you three hundred thousand a month, and you just eat a few rotten leaves. Do you need to be this stingy?”

Xi Tang brazenly replied: “In our industry, expenses are high. Three hundred thousand isn’t even enough for me to buy a bag.”

Zhao Ping Jin’s face turned pale, and he said no more.

Xi Tang cleared the bowls and chopsticks from the table, walked into the kitchen, and turned on the tap. The kitchen had a small window, and outside was a torrential downpour.

The whole house felt like a ship sailing on a vast, desolate sea.

The house was particularly quiet. She would never have dreamed that one day, she would have such a house and be with him, like an ordinary couple in the world.

“I saw Fourth Brother tonight.”

Xi Tang’s hand paused as she silently came back to herself.

Zhao Ping Jin had walked over at some point and was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, his voice betraying no emotion: “Fourth Brother is getting married.”

Xi Tang’s tone was flat: “Oh, is that so?”

But Zhao Ping Jin deliberately wouldn’t let her off: “Fourth Brother isn’t a stingy person. How come you didn’t ask for some benefits back then, instead of ending up in this situation?”

Xi Tang said coldly: “I had nothing to do with him.”

Zhao Ping Jin gave a cold laugh.

From Shanghai to here was over three hundred kilometers. He had driven alone for four or five hours. She thought he had come to Hengdian to see her.

It turned out that Lu Xiao Jiang had returned to the country to announce his marriage, and he had to take a midnight flight just to humiliate her a few times, otherwise, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

The man behind her spoke mockingly: “Why didn’t you go with him?”

Xi Tang angrily threw the dishcloth into the sink: “I’ll go with whoever I want. What business is it of yours!”

Zhao Ping Jin smiled: “Good girl, spirited.”

The next moment, he saw her suddenly raise her head, take a deep breath, and then quickly wipe the corner of her eye.

He finally stopped speaking.

Xi Tang also said no more, lowering her head and silently washing the dishes.