She took the script from Xiao Ning’s hand but spoke with composed authority: “I’ll go talk to her. You take a break, then resume working with her later.”

Xiao Ning agreed timidly.

She walked to the actor’s dressing room.

In the entire crew of over a hundred people, only she had an independent dressing room. Even the male lead Jiang Chao, who still had throngs of devoted fans clutching their hearts and screaming whenever he walked out this door, shared a resting room with the second male lead. It seemed that Wu Zhenzhen’s investor attraction was likely true.

Xi Tang knocked and said gently: “Zhenzhen, I’ve brought the script.”

This young lady liked everyone to call her Zhenzhen, from the head director down to the cleaning staff, to make herself seem approachable and friendly.

A coquettish female voice came from inside: “Come in.”

Xi Tang pushed the door open. Wu Zhenzhen had already put on her costume, a large red palace garment embroidered with peonies, revealing a patch of snow-white chest. She sat at the dressing table, applying decorative yellow patches to her face while speaking, her voice dragging: “Last week at Hang Lung, I saw…”

Someone was sitting on the sofa with their back to the door. Before she could finish, he responded indifferently: “If you like something, go buy it yourself. Don’t come telling me about it.”

In a flash, like lightning striking, Xi Tang felt darkness rolling over her with a rumble, and at that moment she couldn’t move.

The man’s voice was deep, rich, cold, as full as the most resonant string of a cello, yet icy, like frozen creek water flowing over hard rock.

It was like the evening of the first snowfall in winter, when the sky is gray, the courtyard vast and empty, when you wish for someone by your side, wish to warm wine, wish to get drunk, wish to journey with him to the end of time.

Many years ago, also in darkness, she had walked into a brightly lit private room. Shadowy figures sat around the mahjong table, faces indistinct, and she heard only a deep male voice with a hint of laughter: “Wait a moment, four bamboos.”

In that instant, she felt her skin tighten, waves of dizziness in her head, her body desperately wanting to be touched.

No matter how many years had passed, even in dreams, she often heard this voice, a voice she could never forget in her lifetime.

As a student from a professional acting program, her favorite actor quality was having a good voice, delivering lines well—deep, rich, sensual, full of emotion. With that, the performance was already half successful, much more useful than just having a handsome face. So later, when she met Zhao Ping Jin and discovered that a man with such a pleasant voice also happened to possess a face capable of captivating everyone, it truly seemed that heaven had gone blind and given him everything.

Compared to his face, Xi Tang still loved his voice more. How much did she love it? She loved it so much that back then at night with the lights off, the two of them leaning in bed whispering sweet nothings to each other, in complete darkness, it seemed as if she could see his voice floating in threads through the air before her eyes.

That was one of the happiest moments in her memory.

Xi Tang felt the paper trembling in her hand. Looking carefully, she realized her hand was shaking.

Wu Zhenzhen’s eyes floated with coquetry as she pouted: “How mean! I wasn’t talking about that. I was saying I saw Mr. Gao, and his new girlfriend has even acted with me before… but I tried on a bag in the store…”

“Xi Tang? Xi Tang?” Hearing Wu Zhenzhen calling, Xi Tang finally came to her senses.

Xi Tang took a deep breath, then another deep breath, forcefully gripping her trembling wrist. Why panic, why fear? So many years had passed, and they were no longer walking the same path.

She walked straight to Wu Zhenzhen’s side without looking around, crouched down at her thigh, with her back to the person on the sofa, handed her the script, and spoke in a soft voice: “There’s a change in the upcoming scene…”

Wu Zhenzhen glanced at her, wearing a bulky black cotton coat, her face sallow with heavy dark circles under her eyes, probably from shooting early in the morning again. She crouched beside her, eyes unmoving, very obedient, with a gentle smile constantly at the corners of her mouth. Of course, this was for the directors and main actors of the crew. Wu Zhenzhen had also seen her stern-faced, training production assistants until they dared not make a sound. This all-around clever girl from the company, who reportedly graduated from the Film Academy and had even been her body double a few times, had never become famous. Now that she was older, she probably could only switch to working behind the scenes.

She smiled with satisfaction, then said coyly: “Xiao Ning is troubling you again?”

Xi Tang said: “I’ve already criticized her. She’ll be with you for the shoot soon.”

Wu Zhenzhen neither agreed nor disagreed.

Xi Tang didn’t dare move her gaze even slightly, only sensing that the man remained seated on the sofa but no longer spoke. Xi Tang felt her right shoulder and body grow numb.

Xi Tang added: “Today Ah Lin asked for leave, and the production couldn’t find a temporary replacement. There’s a wire-suspension scene at location B later, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do it yourself.”

As expected, Wu Zhenzhen exclaimed: “How can this be!”

Xi Tang smiled apologetically: “Everyone says how professional you are. Reporters are coming to visit the set today, and I’ve arranged for them to interview you.”

Only then did Wu Zhenzhen reluctantly nod.

Someone came to call them to sit. Xi Tang said: “I’ll go now.”

She stood up and walked out. Wu Zhenzhen also stood up but was acting coquettishly with the person in the room: “Still have to film a wire scene. I’m afraid of heights.”

There was no response from inside.

Xi Tang was already outside the door. Wu Zhenzhen probably didn’t know that the man was truly afraid of heights and hated it when people mentioned his fear.

She walked out, and Wu Zhenzhen came out too. The director walked past the corridor, and Wu Zhenzhen immediately went to meet him, linking arms as they headed to the set.

Xi Tang felt as if her whole body had collapsed. She leaned against a pillar under the eaves for a while, and only when she finally felt she could breathe again did she step forward to walk inside.

Suddenly she heard someone say from behind: “Stop.”

In that instant, her heart stopped beating.

She didn’t turn around and continued walking forward.

The person behind lowered his voice, with a hint of annoyance: “Huang Xi Tang.”

Xi Tang had no choice but to stop, clenching her trembling hand into a fist, slowly turning around, but still remembering to put on a slight smile: “What a coincidence.”

Xi Tang’s gaze passed lightly over his face without daring to look carefully, her eyes slightly lowered, fixed on the second amber-colored button of his black coat.

Of course, she remembered what he looked like. Five years had passed, and he hadn’t aged at all. A face as fair as pure ivory enamel, handsome features with a touch of thinness and hardness, a steep and precipitous jawline, thick eyebrows slightly furrowed, eyes like a deep dark sea.

She knew he was staring at her face, his gaze like an ice peak’s blade, carving into it cut by cut.

His tall, slender figure was like a black wall, his whole body filled with an inexplicable anger. He didn’t say a word, but Xi Tang knew he was furious. She had once been so familiar with him that just standing beside him, she could sense his every slightest emotion.

Yes, she knew Zhao Ping Jin hated her. Such a proud and arrogant man—anyone who humiliated him even slightly, he would surely want to repay tenfold, torment them until they wished for death. Yet here she stood, perfectly intact.

He blocked her path; she had nowhere to escape.

In the middle of winter, Xi Tang’s entire back felt cold.

He suddenly smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes at all: “Doing well, aren’t you? Even joined a production.”

Xi Tang smiled faintly inside. Zhao Ping Jin was still the same, speaking standard Mandarin with a slight Beijing accent. With people he knew and those he didn’t deem worthy of politeness, he was often playful, always trying to gain some verbal advantage.

She replied with a hint of mockery: “Thanks to your blessing, I’m managing.”

Zhao Ping Jin asked: “Why aren’t you the female lead?”

Xi Tang smiled and glanced at him: “With so many beautiful women, how could it be my turn?”

At that moment, someone called from down the corridor with a drawn-out voice: “Xi Ye—time to set up props!”

Xi Tang responded, then nodded to the man before her: “Goodbye.”

Zhao Ping Jin watched as she fled like the wind.

After all these years of silence, he had long considered her dead.

Who knew she was still in this circle, though she didn’t seem to be acting? The once proud Huang Xi Tang now had such a submissive demeanor, humbly attending to a capricious, vain female star.

In a blink, her figure was already far away, her thin limbs peeking out from the loose black cotton coat, as weak as a bean sprout, an innocent small face with a heart as sharp as a knife.

He stood under the eaves.

His heart pounded so hard his chest felt tight, his temples throbbing.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and turned back to make a call: “Shen Min.”

Controlling his emotions, he calmly instructed: “Postpone the afternoon meeting. Arrange for someone to bring the urgent documents here for signing. Change tonight’s engagement in Shanghai to Hengdian.”

As filming began at the front location, Xi Tang counted people at the back, ordered meals by phone, and handled various trivial matters. The morning passed quickly in busy work.

Lunch was served around two o’clock. Soon she heard actors coming in to eat, with several women gossiping in whispers: “Wu Zhenzhen’s boyfriend is even more handsome than Jiang Chao. No wonder she keeps missing her cues.”

“Coming to accompany her filming in such cold weather—that’s true love.”

“He keeps a close eye on her. Xiao Ning brought him a cup of water this morning and got scolded.”

“Haha, while Wu Zhenzhen is filming, you should go talk to him. I’ll treat you to a facial tonight.” Stirring up trouble.

“Really?” Eager to try.

“Hahaha.”

During a break in filming, Wu Zhenzhen fluttered like a butterfly to the man in the middle of the set, leaning against his ear: “Didn’t you say you had a meeting this afternoon?”

Zhao Ping Jin said flatly: “It was rescheduled.”

Wu Zhenzhen nestled intimately against him: “Is it because you want to spend more time with me?”

Completely disregarding the reporters present.

Zhao Ping Jin said impatiently: “I don’t want to be in the news.”

Wu Zhenzhen immediately sat properly to the side.

Zhao Ping Jin sat in the messy filming location filled with photographic equipment, watching the figures coming and going. Until the afternoon golden hour, he never saw her shadow again.

Wu Zhenzhen finished her scene, changed clothes and came out in a fire-red fur coat, holding his arm as they walked out. Some fans gathered around asking for her autograph.

Wu Zhenzhen was in a great mood today, chatting warmly, and even allowing photos.

Zhao Ping Jin stood aside from smoking.

Halfway through his cigarette, he suddenly saw Huang Xi Tang again. She was carrying a huge wooden rack with a martial arts instructor, filled with various weapons—swords, spears, staves, and clubs. The rack was taller than her, and she was struggling a bit as she jogged to keep pace with the person in front.

Suddenly, a long sword tilted and fell.

Xi Tang couldn’t dodge in time. With a clang, it hit her forehead. She cried out in pain, and the instructor in front stopped, quickly running back to check on her.

Zhao Ping Jin frowned as he extinguished his cigarette.

Still so clumsy.

Xi Tang shook her head, and the two returned to their work.

The next moment, Zhao Ping Jin noticed her hands. Her left hand was lifting the rack, her right hand supporting it, the force uneven, the rack tilting, her steps stumbling.

Looking up again, at a corner turn, she disappeared.