Cheng Yueming had actually expected to be turned away at Liang Yan’s door, but being genuinely rejected still left her unavoidably a little upset.

She was still holding the salad she’d just picked up downstairs, but she’d lost her appetite for it now, wondering whether to carry it back the way she’d come or just toss it in the trash.

The hotel corridor was clean and tidy, the dark carpet soft and thick, so that walking on it made almost no sound at all. Along the corridor, a dark bronze trash bin was placed by every other room, for guests’ convenience.

Cheng Yueming stood by a trash bin, hesitating for a moment, then decided not to waste it after all.

She could bring it back for her dad to eat.

But the instant she turned around, she walked straight into a wall of flesh.

The tray tipped over. The salad… was wasted after all.

She stared at the “riot of color” now spread across the man’s white shirt, mouth hanging open for a long moment before she dared slowly lift her head.

This person was so tall.

Pretty solidly built, too.

He had a wheat-toned complexion, features that were bold and rather thick-lined, especially those eyebrows — dark and heavy, matching the dark eyes beneath them.

Deep-set features, deep coloring.

Cheng Yueming’s mind caught up with her, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “S-sorry! Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh no!”

Cheng Yueming fumbled about, wanting to help wipe him down but not knowing where to even start.

After all, that salad dressing was thick and a nightmare to wash out!

“I…” Cheng Yueming didn’t know what to do.

Her flurry of flustered movements made the man laugh. “It’s fine, my fault.”

“I was standing behind you without saying anything — must’ve startled you.”

His voice was low and rather rough in timbre, even carrying a faint middle-aged quality to it.

But looking at his face, he couldn’t be older than thirty, could he?

“You… why don’t you hand your clothes over to the hotel concierge, and I’ll cover the cost,” Cheng Yueming offered. “I’m Cheng Yueming — there’s a record of me at the front desk.”

“I’m Lin Chu.”

Cheng Yueming felt like she’d heard the name “Lin Chu” somewhere before. She hesitated. “You… are you an actor?”

Lin Chu smiled. “I suppose so, though I’m still new. You know me?”

Cheng Yueming scratched her head, laughing a little sheepishly. “Seems like I’ve heard it — sounds familiar.”

“Mm, I played a minor supporting role in Through Nine Provinces before.”

Through Nine Provinces had been last summer’s blockbuster fantasy wuxia drama. After it aired, the male and female leads, who’d previously been wavering around fourth-tier status, shot straight up to second-tier, and several of the main supporting cast jumped several tiers as well.

And among them… it seemed Lin Chu had been included.

Cheng Yueming suddenly remembered, and her impression of Lin Chu grew steadily clearer. Under the corridor’s dim light, she studied his features and bearing, her gaze sliding from his dark, sharp-looking hair down to that firm, straight bridge of his nose.

Finally her eyes settled steadily on Lin Chu’s broad shoulders and chest.

That build, that bearing — it suited a certain warlord character in Mist and Cloud Pavilion very well.

Cheng Yueming looked him over a few more times, but didn’t bring up Mist and Cloud Pavilion directly. Instead, she used the excuse of the clothing accident to ask which room he was staying in.

Lin Chu waved a hand. “It’s fine, they’re not sponsored clothes — I’ll just change and wash them myself.”

“I’m staying on this floor.”

Oh. As she recalled, whoever stayed on this floor shouldn’t be someone so new.

At the very least, shouldn’t be someone at Lin Chu’s level.

Cheng Yueming felt doubtful inside but kept it off her face.

Yet Lin Chu seemed to guess what she was thinking anyway, and mentioned offhandedly, as if joking, “Borrowing a friend’s room for the night.”

Cheng Yueming smiled in understanding.

Just then several people in evening wear came walking this way, and Cheng Yueming recognized at a glance that among them were both celebrities and executives. Worried Lin Chu might be embarrassed, she said hurriedly, “Why don’t you… go back to your room and deal with this first. I’m really sorry about tonight.”

“Sure.” Lin Chu turned and headed back to his room without any fuss.

He made no move to suggest exchanging contact information, as if he genuinely treated the incident as nothing more than an ordinary accident.

Cheng Yueming stared at Lin Chu’s closed door, lost in thought for a moment.

Not until a staff member passed by, saw the mess at her feet, and asked if she needed help, did Cheng Yueming belatedly apologize and explain what had happened. The staff member stayed to clean up the scene while she shuffled back to her room in her slippers.

Once back in her room, she made a point of searching up Lin Chu’s information, and in one dessert advertisement she found, she saw that it had actually been a collaboration between Lin Chu and Qiao Qi.

So in the middle of the night, without caring whether the timing was appropriate, Cheng Yueming picked up her phone and sent Qiao Qi a WeChat message.

—

Qiao Qi didn’t see Cheng Yueming’s message until the next morning. She kept two WeChat accounts — one for handling work, where most of her contacts were industry people and where she deliberately posted selfies and photos so directors and producers could pull images from it.

The other was her personal account, where she’d added only people she was somewhat close to, along with the director and the others from the orphanage. Her moments feed there was mostly life updates, along with posts about the kids at the orphanage.

As for Li’ang, he lived on a separate phone.

An even more private WeChat account.

She’d spent almost the entire previous night chatting with Li’ang, barely checking her work phone, and when she woke up the first thing she checked was her personal phone too. By the time she remembered her work account, it was already ten in the morning.

Liangou: A beautiful day starts with a hearty breakfast.

Liangou: [image][image][image]

The photos showed a spread of breakfast food, a mix of meat and vegetables, not exactly simple.

This was the first time the two of them had shared a piece of their daily lives.

Even though the photo revealed nothing beyond the breakfast itself.

Still, Qiao Qi’s mood lifted because of this small bit of progress.

And once her mood lifted, she grew bolder still.

7: !!!

7: I forgot to reply to my collaborator’s message!

Enjoying his lavish breakfast, the other party sent back a string of merciless mockery.

Liangou: Hahahahahaha.

7: ?

7: …………886.

Liangou: Touching.

Liangou: You forget to reply to your benefactor’s message, but you remember to reply to mine.

Qiao Qi went speechless. “……”

It’s precisely because I remember you too well that I forget to earn money.

Liangou: You really do love me after all.

Liangou: This humble consort is well satisfied. [crying]

Liangou: Today really is a beautiful day.

Qiao Qi, deeply speechless, coldly sent back a string of periods.

But looking at that line — “today really is a beautiful day” — Qiao Qi still found the corners of her mouth curving up.

Yeah.

She hoped today really would be a beautiful day.

In excellent spirits, she set down her personal phone and turned to reply to Cheng Yueming.

Cheng Yueming had suddenly sent her a message the previous night, in the small hours.

Cheng Yueming: Do you still remember Lin Chu?

Lin Chu… Qiao Qi thought for a moment, and a face with sharp, rugged features flashed through her mind.

She asked: Lin Chu from the dessert ad?

Cheng Yueming replied almost instantly: Yes! That’s him!

Only then did Qiao Qi answer honestly: I remember him.

She asked: What about him?

On Cheng Yueming’s end, “typing…” flickered several times, and in the end Qiao Qi only received: Ugh! Can’t explain it in a sentence or two.

Cheng Yueming: Have you read the script?

Cheng Yueming: Are you free tonight?

Cheng Yueming: Let’s meet up and talk?

Right now Qiao Qi had nothing to do and all the time in the world. So she replied immediately: Sure.

The two of them settled on a time and place for that evening, and Qiao Qi threw herself right back into the script.

She’d only skimmed it briefly the night before; tonight, for a proper discussion, she needed to have chewed through the content thoroughly beforehand.

At seven in the evening, the sky gradually darkening, the city’s traffic streamed by, neon lights crisscrossing.

Qiao Qi sat in a taxi, listening to the endless honking behind them, and frowned as she rolled down the window to look outside.

Traffic had jammed into a solid line.

The driver noticed her movement and said, “No telling how long this jam’s gonna last.”

Qiao Qi checked the time. “About how long do you figure, roughly?”

The driver said, “Twenty minutes at the very fastest.”

No time for that.

Without a second thought, Qiao Qi pushed open the car door and got out. She walked up to the front door, scanned the code to pay the driver, then turned to look for a shared bike nearby.

Unfortunately, this was exactly rush hour, and the shared bikes along the road had nearly all been ridden off.

Besides, she was standing in the middle of the traffic, and in her qipao and low heels, squeezing her way out would likely be a struggle too.

Just as Qiao Qi was scouting which gap between cars she might slip through, the roar of an engine suddenly sounded not far off.

It was a motorcycle.

Qiao Qi paused, thinking she’d spotted hope, and hurriedly turned toward the sound.

Sure enough, a black-and-gold Harley wove through the gaps between cars and pulled up right beside her.

—Had she not been blocking the way, the rider likely wouldn’t have stopped at all.

The person wore a leather jacket and a helmet that matched the motorcycle’s paint job, one leg planted on the ground; at a glance, the legs were long and straight.

Qiao Qi pressed her lips together, an idea forming in her mind.

Before she could get a word out, she watched the rider pull off his gloves, slender fingers flipping up the visor, revealing a pair of peach-blossom eyes.

Once Qiao Qi saw clearly, “……”

Great. It was Liang Yan again.

Liang Yan hadn’t expected to run into Qiao Qi here either. His gaze swept over the qipao and heels she was wearing, then lifted to take in the endless line of cars ahead, and a mocking note crept into his tone that he made no effort to hide.

“Rushing a job?”

Author’s note: 7: Fucking rushing a job……

—Reality

Fate brings people together across a thousand miles!

—Online

Without fate, people pass by without recognizing each other……