Jin Yiken, this idiot.

Long Qi replied to him: “Yeah, I’m high.”

Then she proactively hung up the phone, because Lao Ping’s incoming call cut in. She could figure out with just a strand of hair what he meant by making this call. Her craving for cigarettes had come back a bit, but she held back. After blowing in the night wind for a while, she went back in.

Lao Ping didn’t allow her to touch cigarettes. He was especially insistent about this.

That party continued until three in the morning before gradually dispersing. The CEO’s side arranged a car to send Long Qi home. This time Lao Ping was clever, saying he had driven here, the driver was waiting, hadn’t touched alcohol.

Actually, the driver had gone home to rest long ago.

But his reason for doing this wasn’t actually because he was afraid Long Qi would be coveted, but thoroughly because he found the residential area she rented shabby. More than once he had advised her to change to a high-end residential area, or at least one near the company—at least that would have a geographical advantage. Long Qi had no patience to listen. In the taxi, she provoked him: “What? I’m even planning to recruit a roommate.”

“Is the dividend I give you little?” Lao Ping countered.

“Is it you living in the house or me?”

“Then how about this,” Lao Ping said, “next time a business car sends you back, let’s give your lord’s address. I’ll wait for you there and send you home.”

Lao Ping had hinted at this matter more than once or twice. That piece of the city’s most prestigious area where Jin Yiken’s family lived satisfied his vanity terribly. He especially coveted it, especially wanted to toss out that address when reporting locations, but Long Qi ignored this topic every time.

At his age and still like this, more amusing than her, a young woman.

However, after that party, Lao Ping didn’t arrange any more work for her, because the college entrance examination had arrived.

Thanks to Jin Yiken’s tutoring before he went abroad, thanks to Lao Ping finding her a bunch of private tutors, and also thanks to her consciously making up lessons before, this time she didn’t turn in a blank exam. Moreover, the knowledge points in her mind could all find corresponding uses. At that time, cicadas chirped in June, the breeze was gentle. Outside the examination hall there was no car noise or clamor. Inside the examination hall was full of the sound of writing rapidly. Every time she finished an exam paper, she mentally calculated the score she could get, feeling it should probably be enough.

During those several exams, she didn’t see Dong Xi at all.

On the day the exams ended, the female class monitor who had always disliked her invited her to participate in a party organized by the class. Long Qi was replying to Lao Ping’s message at the time. Lao Ping had sent her several styling sample images that were currently finalized. She scrolled through her phone screen, looking carefully. The female class monitor coughed and knocked on her desk.

Long Qi looked at her.

“Are you coming to tonight’s graduation party,” she said stiffly, adding, “The homeroom teacher told me to notify everyone to go.”

“Not going.” Long Qi looked back at her phone.

The classroom atmosphere was noisy. Outside on the balcony, a bunch of people were throwing books. Her deskmate was lying at the window photographing the book-throwing scene. The female class monitor stood in place without moving, as if she still had something to say.

Long Qi looked at her again, meaning what else was there.

The female class monitor shrugged and said: “Come on, you should still come. After all, we’ve been classmates for three years. From now on, we’ll all be scattered.”

This sentence, faint, coming from the mouth of the female class monitor who had always disliked her, instead seemed to touch a certain point in her heart. Long Qi’s fingertips gently stroked the side of her phone. She didn’t speak or shake her head. The female class monitor kept standing in front of her desk. This scene was slightly sentimental. Unfortunately, later her deskmate suddenly plopped back into his seat with a sound, forcibly interrupting the beautiful scene.

The chair back bumped into her side.

She frowned looking at that guy. The deskmate who was still immersed in the post-exam carnival atmosphere immediately sensed the murderous aura, turned his head and said: “Sorry, sorry.”

“Speaking of which,” Long Qi remembered to ask, “what’s your name? I never memorized it.”

The deskmate was stunned.

Actually, this male deskmate was quite fun. Although he didn’t have much presence, over this semester, he counted as one of the few male students Long Qi didn’t dislike. Moreover, he was quite good at gauging her emotions (to decide whether to speak and seek death or shut up and survive in the current situation). His mouth was also quite tight (had witnessed intimate text messages Jin Yiken sent her but didn’t spread them around, could see her thoughts about Dong Xi but didn’t ask too much). He would also help her copy homework, buy breakfast, collect packages, and so on. So this half semester had been quite comfortable for her.

So she finally remembered to get to know him.

After being stunned, the deskmate answered her: “Hao Shuai.”

Long Qi looked at him.

The deskmate emphasized: “That is, Hao Shuai.”

Long Qi nodded. The deskmate said helplessly: “If you want to laugh then laugh… don’t look like you can’t bear to look directly.”

“I feel like your name is a bit familiar, like I’ve heard this name in other places too. Forget it, not chatting about it anymore.”

As she spoke, she continued looking at her phone.

The deskmate slowly said: “I joined your fan support group, now I’m the president of this branch…”

Long Qi looked at him again. She could almost not hold it in anymore, was about to laugh. The deskmate’s face was bright red, defending: “I’m a pure looks fan, I don’t chase real people…”

The female class monitor interjected: “How have you considered it? Are you coming or not? Every class is going.”

Because of this last sentence, Long Qi’s attention was pulled back. She finally didn’t laugh out loud, turned her head to look at the female class monitor’s side.

The deskmate looked at her.

A few seconds later, some residual smile on her face slowly faded. She answered: “No need, I’m not going. Thank you.”

That night, there was a thunderstorm.

After this summer rain, Long Qi officially began work.

She knew there was a place full of joyous voices and laughter, full of parting sorrows, full of a whole three years of memories and turbulence. And she was at this place putting on makeup she’d never worn before, wearing clothes she’d never worn before, doing things with people she’d never met before that she would do from now on.

The air after the rain was particularly damp and sticky. Lao Ping was busy surveying the scene. Staff were adjusting lights and equipment. She leaned against an old wooden door in a daze. Makeup personnel quickly arranged every strand of her hair. The director, before shooting began, personally explained the scene to her once more.

Zhuo Qing sent her a text message saying: Happy graduation.

Yu Jingli sent her a text message saying: Bitch.

Some unfamiliar numbers never saved sent her unsigned confessions.

There were also some unfamiliar numbers never saved that sent her unsigned insults.

She received them one by one during filming breaks, looked at them one by one, deleted them one by one. When deleting the last one, her phone jumped out with another text message notification. Dong Xi’s name jumped in banner notification form at the top of the screen.

Long Qi’s finger stopped on the phone surface, looking at those three characters above.

Wishing peace.

The lights on scene penetrated the night, shining on her slightly curled long hair. She took a deep breath, looking toward the night sky above the city. Light, all light—couldn’t see a trace of stars. Then she looked toward Lao Ping outside the crowd. Lao Ping had just finished giving instructions to the female assistant. Seeing her attention come over, he raised his arm high, habitually giving her a thumbs up.