Yesterday, experts from Beijing came for a consultation, taking away all of her mother’s medical records. The attending physician told her, “She can be discharged soon.”

After this illness, her mother began to sporadically talk about things she had never mentioned before.

Mother said to her in the hospital room, “The deed to the Xianju house is in the safe at home. That house is decades old. Whether you want to rent it or sell it later, it’s up to your convenience.”

Xi Tang slowly raised her head, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. She knew what her mother was doing—she was making final arrangements.

Mother gently kissed her hand. Her daughter’s hand was still like when she was little—small and white. “I’m happy that you brought me to live in Shanghai, but you’re too busy with work.”

Xi Tang quickly said, “Mom, I’ll spend more time with you in the future.”

Her mother waved her hand, “Miss Ni also told me that you have many work opportunities now. Mom will support you fully. Darling, I’m not worried about your work. What I worry about is that there will be no one to care about your life matters in the future, and you’ll miss your chances.”

Xi Tang couldn’t psychologically accept this situation. Her lips quivered as if about to cry, but she held back, “Mom, what are you thinking?”

Her mother told her, “If you discuss marriage in the future, you should tell the other person about your previous surgery. Don’t deceive anyone.”

Her mother pinched her pouty little face, “And don’t hold grudges. Wait patiently. Someone who cherishes you will come along.”

“Uncle Qiu visited last time and said his granddaughter wants to come to Shanghai to take the Dance Academy entrance exam. The young girl likes you very much and hopes you can introduce her to some arts examination teachers.”

Xi Tang agreed.

Xi Tang knew that Uncle Qiu had visited her mother.

At that time, she was filming in Beijing. The caregiver said that Uncle Qiu had sat in the hospital room for an entire afternoon, left some fruit, and then went back.

Traveling back and forth between Hangzhou and Shanghai—he was already seventy years old.

She heard his wife was five years older than him and had passed away the previous year.

Xi Tang remembered when she was little and naive, she liked Uncle Qiu very much. He would carry her around the room, with the strong arms of a middle-aged man. When she started elementary school, Uncle Qiu brought her a pink Mickey Mouse schoolbag, which she carried until third grade, until the shoulder straps became worn.

Her mother always worried about her marriage prospects and one afternoon, she brought it up again.

“I’m not saying it has to be Dr. Xie, but Mom hopes you’ll marry into a good family.”

“Good people will always be there.”

“Mom knows you’re a good child. You and Miss Ni are good friends, so you should support each other.”

Xi Tang was busy peeling an apple for her mother and interjected, “Karen doesn’t want to get married. She’s against marriage.”

“Whether married or not, everyone needs a companion. Mom worries you’ll be lonely.”

“As long as you like him, it doesn’t matter if it’s his first or second marriage, or whether he has children. But you must listen to mom—the man must have a clean background, and it must be a proper marriage.”

Xi Tang nodded obediently and earnestly agreed, “Okay.”

Xie Zhenbang often came to this hospital room.

Each time, Xi Tang would ask, “Does my mom have a chance for a transplant surgery?”

Each time, Xie Zhenbang would answer apologetically, “The situation is very stable now. Don’t worry too much.”

Every time they discussed this, Xi Tang’s eyes would fill with tears.

She earned money desperately, just to give her mother a good life.

She had enough money now.

She just didn’t know how long her mother could wait.

Autumn in Beijing—the maple trees and ginkgos on the mountain glowed golden, and the wild jujubes in the valley had ripened, hanging bright red and crystal clear on the branches.

Gao Jiyi parked his car at the halfway point of Shijingshan Road’s parking area. Just as he got out, he saw Zhao Pingjin’s car arriving.

Gao Jiyi waited until he parked, then went over and knocked on his car door, “Zhouzi.”

Seeing it was him, Zhao Pingjin got out and asked, “Which hall?”

Gao Jiyi put a cigarette in his mouth, “The East Ceremonial Hall.”

The two walked side by side toward the memorial service hall. Along the way were guests in black formal attire with solemn expressions. Gao Jiyi lowered his voice, “Where have you been lately? Like a dragon showing its head but not its tail.”

Last month, Zhongyuan Group held a board meeting, and the Party Secretary’s term ended with a change of personnel. During this time, Zhao Pingjin had fewer social engagements. Apart from work, he didn’t see anyone outside, not even Gao Jiyi and their friends. In the past, they would gather on weekends and holidays, but now Fang Langai had to accompany his child, Zhao Pingjin couldn’t stand Lu Xiaojiang, and somehow the group hadn’t gotten together for a long time.

Zhao Pingjin slowly answered, “Where else could I be? Working like a grandson every day.”

Neither of them was in high spirits today.

They had come to Shijingshan District quite often, but mostly for solemn funeral occasions. Distinguished old men passed away, and their ashes were subsequently buried in the adjacent Martyrs’ Cemetery. This was a part of life they had experienced since childhood. But today they weren’t here on official business. Zhao Pingjin wasn’t in a good mood. The last time he came was for his uncle’s passing, just over two years ago. This time, lying in the farewell hall was their childhood friend, lost to cancer—died young at just forty. He was Zhao Pindong’s junior high school sweetheart and a classmate of Gao Jiyi and Fang Langai. Zhao Pindong had called from overseas, insisting that Zhao Pingjin attend and see him off on her behalf.

Zhao Pingjin bowed at the memorial hall, offered incense, conveyed his condolences to the grief-stricken parents of the deceased, and walked out of the farewell hall. In the corridor of the funeral home, many former schoolmates came to greet him.

He refused to see any of them, and his secretary blocked those who tried to approach.

Gao Jiyi smoked with him in front of the car.

“The company disbanded, leaving over a million, most of which was distributed to employees as wages.”

“When a person is gone, everything is false, nothing remains.”

“Among our generation, about thirty or more have left, scattered all over the world.”

“Of those who stayed in Beijing, two or three have passed away. Around the age of forty, more than ten have been diagnosed with malignancies. With this environment, no wonder everyone is emigrating.”

Zhao Pingjin had been silently listening to Gao Jiyi with a slight frown. Now he finally replied, “I have to go on a business trip tomorrow. I’ll have Xiao Min bring something over later.”

“You’ve been promoted and now we can’t even see your face. Ah, Director Zhao.”

“Get lost, stop teasing me.”

Gao Jiyi joked, half-seriously, “I’m saying, this time it was bloodless, but people are talking outside—you’re ruthless.”

“If I hadn’t handled it, people would be talking about someone else today, not me.”

“You’ve made too many enemies. Be careful, kid. Not to mention others, would your father-in-law accept what you did?”

Zhao Pingjin smoked his cigarette and replied indifferently, “I didn’t do anything to him.”

Gao Jiyi tilted his head back and laughed loudly, “You rascal, you’re something else. Hey, with real power in hand, half the board members are your people now, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Gao Jiyi himself didn’t feel anything unusual—the childhood friendship was there, and on a private occasion like today, Zhao Pingjin hadn’t met with anyone else, only staying close to him and Langai. But he understood that Zhao Pingjin now wielded significant power. When he was out socializing, he might not notice, but outsiders’ attitudes toward Zhao Pingjin’s status and position were different from before. “Last week, Langai and his wife brought their child to my house for dinner, but you weren’t there.”

Zhao Pingjin slowly took a drag of his cigarette, “I’ll come next time.”

Gao Jiyi winked at him and said mischievously, “I heard all about that incident at the Marriott Hotel last week.”

Zhao Pingjin gave him a warning look.

Gao Jiyi quickly changed the subject, “Alright, alright, I won’t mention that. But your feud with Old Sun is getting deeper and deeper.”

“Sun Kehu tried to curry favor but instead gave that person leverage. Now they say he can’t stand the Sun family even more. Sun Kehu was severely beaten by his father, and almost thrown out of the family.”

Zhao Pingjin leaned sideways against the car, smoke swirling around him.

Gao Jiyi nudged his arm, “I heard that the higher-ups are investigating the Sun family’s faction.”

Zhao Pingjin flicked his ash and replied calmly, “I heard about that too.”

This was Gao Jiyi’s good quality—loyalty. “Why not take care of him now? I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

Zhao Pingjin turned around and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, “Let me think about it some more.”

His assistant came to urge him to leave.

Zhao Pingjin said, “I’m leaving first. Help me tell Langai.”

Gao Jiyi agreed, “Okay, see you later, sir!”

The Beijing Huaying Building is located in Xinfeng Lane in the West City District, a white cubic office building. In this towering building, there is a globally renowned sound post-production center, equipped with the best recording equipment and highest standard film and television post-production services in Asia. Xi Tang was here, dubbing for the film “Late Spring.”

Both the film creative team and the recording director’s team were in the studio. One year and eight months had passed since the first gathering of the entire creative team in Beijing, yet everyone still approached their work with meticulous care.

Xi Tang had been working in this building for an entire week. Having immersed herself in the role, she engaged in no entertainment. Every morning at nine o’clock sharp, she entered the studio, rested after completing the day’s work, and if things didn’t go smoothly, she would repeat takes again and again, sometimes until late night or early morning, before returning to the hotel to rest and continuing in the studio the next morning.

Her only relaxation was occasionally having coffee downstairs with fellow actors or colleagues.

During a coffee break, an actor from the same crew asked her, “Master Xi, are you doing TV dramas or films next?”

Xi Tang smiled and said, “I plan to rest for a while first.”

She had already told Ni Kairen that after finishing work on “Late Spring,” she wanted to take some time off to be with her mother.

The day before leaving Beijing after the film’s recording was completed happened to be Zhong Qiaoer’s birthday. Xi Tang visited her at Jiuhua Mountain Cemetery.

There was a bunch of bright red roses on her grave.

She didn’t know who had sent them.

In that night’s thin line between life and death, she had understood her, understood her helplessness back then.

If she hadn’t come out of that suite that night, then everything she had experienced—perhaps she wouldn’t have been braver than Zhong Qiaoer.

Huang Xi Tang sat on the steps in front of her tombstone, watching the desolate autumn grasses blowing in the wind. At that moment, she forgave her disregard for life.

Looking into the distance, Xi Tang could see her male bodyguard and assistant standing motionless on the cemetery’s main path, his gaze never leaving her direction.

She had gone too far down this path to turn back now.

That October, after “Late Spring” finished filming and Xi Tang returned to Shanghai, she had dinner with Dr. Xie.

That evening, Xi Tang discussed some matters with him.

Her affairs, matters of the entertainment industry—they had been dating for almost a year, and although they didn’t meet often, they maintained intermittent contact. This was the first time Huang Xi Tang had spoken to him about such personal matters in depth.

She too had become someone walking on the edge of the entertainment circle, becoming a plaything of power and money, finding it difficult to protect herself.

Not many honest and upright young men could accept such a female celebrity.

Xie Zhenbang listened for a very long time, and finally said to her, “If I asked you to leave this place and return to Singapore with me to get married—along with your mother, of course—would you consider it?”

His tone was serious.

Huang Xi Tang remained silent for a long time, but still shook her head, “I’ve already entered this world of fame and fortune, and I don’t plan to turn back.”

She smiled at Xie Zhenbang, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, “Very vain, isn’t it?”

Xie Zhenbang shook his head.

Tears slowly flowed from Huang Xi Tang’s eyes. This was the best promise a man had given her in her life so far.

But she couldn’t accept it.

Xie Zhenbang asked, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Xi Tang said, “If you don’t look down on me, please continue to be my friend.”

Xie Zhenbang tightly held her hand, “Of course.”