After ten o’clock in the evening, Shen Min was still driving as the two of them left Guosheng Hutong.

Zhao Ping Jin remained silent after getting into the car.

Years of familiarity and tacit understanding meant that as long as he didn’t want to talk, Shen Min would never ask too much, just drive quietly.

The car encountered some congestion while passing through Andingmen West Street. Outside the window, colorful neon lights flickered, and the river of cars formed a series of red dots. Beijing’s brilliant night lights continuously flashed into one’s eyes.

The car traveled from the Second Ring Road into the East Third Ring Road, driving from Hengjing Street into the P1 garage of Park Hyatt Residences. Shen Min smoothly parked the car, set the handbrake, and glanced at the rearview mirror.

Zhao Ping Jin still sat motionless in the back seat.

Shen Min secretly felt something was wrong, so he unfastened his seatbelt and was about to speak when he heard Zhao Ping Jin’s somewhat hoarse voice: “Xiao Min, get me my medicine.”

Shen Min’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned around to look back.

Zhao Ping Jin was still sitting upright in the back seat, but his face was pale, and his voice trembled slightly.

The Zhao family rules were strict; their behavior was always measured and composed.

Shen Min lowered his head to find his medicine bag.

Zhao Ping Jin took a breath: “On top.”

He had left a bottle of medicine in the easily accessible top compartment. Shen Min handed it over, and Zhao Ping Jin twisted open the bottle, poured a few pills into his palm, and swallowed them directly.

Shen Min instinctively asked: “Is your stomach hurting?”

Zhao Ping Jin frowned without speaking.

Shen Min picked up his thermos from beside the driver’s seat, shook it, and found it empty.

He immediately pushed open the car door: “I’ll get you some warm water.”

Shen Min ran from the garage to the first floor, silently blaming himself for being too careless. The entire company had been frantically busy with the recent energy bidding project. Zhao Ping Jin didn’t show anything on the surface, but Shen Min knew he was bearing the greatest pressure. The most direct reaction to high stress was his particularly poor appetite. His female secretary had secretly reported to him that recently when ordering lunch, the boss had barely touched his food.

Zhao Ping Jin’s health has been decent these past few years. The elders at home cared about his daily life, and he never neglected himself, generally checking into a hospital to rest when he was tired. Shen Min hadn’t paid much attention, thinking things would naturally improve after the bidding ended. He hadn’t expected his stomach condition to recur. Despite working behind him every day, Zhao Ping Jin had managed to hide it even from him.

Shen Min returned with water from the first floor, opened the back door, and stood bowing at the rear seat, his body blocking the outside. Zhao Ping Jin was still sitting, but apparently enduring pain to the extreme—his face was frost-white, his body slightly curled, his lips tightly bitten, his palm pressing against his stomach.

Shen Min helped him drink half a cup of water, closed the car door for him, returned to the driver’s seat, and turned up the heat: “Rest for a while, sir.”

Zhao Ping Jin finally closed his eyes, leaned back in his seat, and pressed his hand more deeply against his stomach.

Shen Min was anxious inside but could only sit motionless. After a while, as the pain subsided somewhat, Zhao Ping Jin said in a hoarse voice, exhausted: “Xiao Min, you go back. I’ll go upstairs and rest.”

Shen Min didn’t dare relax, and said softly: “I’ll call the doctor tonight and arrange for you to have an examination tomorrow.”

Zhao Ping Jin frowned: “I’ll take a few days off later. Not now.”

Shen Min didn’t dare insist. The company’s situation was complex recently; he wouldn’t leave.

Shen Min said worriedly: “Let me escort you upstairs.”

Around four in the afternoon, faint sunlight fell on the gray walls. After more than a week of heavy snow, it had slowly melted away. The streets were damp, and the branches of large trees cast sparse, dim shadows.

At this time, there weren’t many pedestrians. Occasionally, passersby wearing thick scarves and gloves would quickly ride by on bicycles.

Xiao Ning supported Xi Tang’s arm as they walked slowly along the roadside.

Xi Tang’s entire body was weak, dragging her steps forward one by one. She wore a loose blue cotton trouser costume with a black down jacket over it, wrapped in a scarf, and wearing sunglasses.

Her eyes were completely swollen.

The filming of “The Last Princess” was nearing its end. Following the changes through the era, her second brother hanged himself in the Jin family’s old home in Xilou Hutong. She returned home for the funeral, becoming too immersed in the role. Even after the scene ended, she still couldn’t control her crying. The director had an assistant support her to go outside for a walk.

This week, the film crew moved to Changqing Liyuan to shoot the second-to-last major scene. The prop and lighting teams had been busy for several days, finally building the magnificent and complex stage. The associate director had recruited a large number of extras to be the audience and found students from the Opera Academy to rehearse on stage.

The main actors were resting for half a day.

They were finally about to shoot the most important scene: the charity performance by Beijing’s socialites.

As “The Last Princess” approached the end of filming, it was scheduled to air on Beijing TV next March. Various promotional channels had opened up, with the focus on director Feng Jia Su and male lead Yin Nan. Due to these two’s consistent commitment to quality, a reputation for excellent production had been established. As next year’s most anticipated drama, reporters had become increasingly numerous during recent open set visits, with fans surrounding the outer field in circles.

Huang Xi Tang’s name, connected with Yin Nan’s, frequently topped the entertainment headlines. As her fame gradually rose, sponsors suddenly increased. Ni Kai Lun occasionally brought her some branded clothes, bracelets, scarves, and sunglasses, instructing her to wear them today and tomorrow.

Beijing had too many award ceremonies, fashion galas, and advertising events. Even someone as low-key as Yin Nan had attended two or three commercial activities, bringing Huang Xi Tang to one.

The two had been old friends for years. Perhaps some smile or familiar glance appeared a bit warmer and was captured by reporters—their rumors were immediately stirred up.

Reportedly, Zheng You Tong’s fans were furious, lining up in armies to curse her on Weibo.

Xiao Ning scrolled through her phone at the set every day, reporting bits of news to her daily, enjoying it immensely.

Xi Tang slowly recovered, let go of Xiao Ning’s hand, and walked a few steps on her own. Turning a street corner, the vermilion brick walls and yellow glazed tiles of Yonghegong Lama Temple were already visible in the distance.

She seemed to still see the wispy smoke rising from the temple halls.

She stopped her steps and looked around slowly. There were still many small vendors selling incense at the foot of the wall. She still clearly remembered that past the Zhaotai Gate’s archway, there was a long, flagstone-paved, green-canopied passageway with tall ginkgo trees creating dense shade. In autumn, when the ginkgo leaves turned yellow, it was extraordinarily beautiful.

Zhao Ping Jin had taken her to see it.

She had lived near this street for a long time. That had been the happiest time in her life.

She couldn’t think about it anymore.

Zhao Ping Jin remained silent, seemingly for a very long time. Since the last time they had a fierce fight after returning from Wu Zhen Zhen’s wedding banquet, Zhao Ping Jin had never contacted her again.

This was natural—whoever angered him, he would naturally abandon them without care.

In the evening, the executive director came to find her, saying that Director Feng had reviewed the footage in the machine room and discovered a continuity issue in one scene: she wore earrings in the first half but not in the second half. The director said several close-up shots needed to be reshot tomorrow.

Xi Tang began looking for those earrings. The small pearl earrings were among her few personal items. In her impression, she hadn’t worn them for some time, so she searched through her suitcase and makeup bag, called in her assistant, and even searched every corner of the hotel room, but couldn’t find them.

Xi Tang sat on the hotel bed and carefully thought it through from the beginning. During that period, she had gone to Park Hyatt Residences several times; they had probably been left at Zhao Ping Jin’s place.

Xi Tang gathered her courage to call him, but his phone was turned off.

With no choice, she had to find Shen Min.

Shen Min said he was off duty today.

Xi Tang explained her purpose, and Shen Min laughed slightly: “He gave you the door card to his place, naturally meaning you’re free to come and go as you please. Just go back and look for them.”

Xi Tang could only respond with a meek “Okay.”

Just as she was about to hang up, Shen Min suddenly called out from the other end: “Xi Tang?”

“Yes?”

Shen Min had something to say but fell silent for a moment, then still didn’t say it: “Nothing, just go look for them.”

Xi Tang took a taxi to Jianguomen.