…

New Year’s Day—another hallway full of New Year’s greetings.

This kind of hollow festivity repeated annually. Because it carried the word “new,” it seemed as if it could truly wash away worldly dust and bring complete transformation. Even those with petty grievances usually tried to let bygones be bygones on such days. Zhou Yicong’s agent knocked on Long Qi’s door before six in the morning. When the door didn’t open, she earnestly greeted her and apologized from outside, then asked if Long Qi could contact Zhou Yicong himself—she thought Zhou Yicong was probably hanging out with her.

Long Qi didn’t answer, acting as if she wasn’t in the room at all.

So the agent left.

Around six o’clock, Lao Ping and his assistant arrived early at the hotel to take her to set. When the door opened, Lao Ping looked up from his phone screen to assess her condition, saying expressionlessly: “Well, lucky Zhou Yicong went missing—really saved your life.”

The hallway light was still glaring, the reflection from the female assistant’s white ski jacket also glaring. Her eyes couldn’t open fully and were still sore. She turned her forehead aside to avoid it. Lao Ping asked again: “Did you stay up all night, drink all night, or cry all night? Or was it all three?”

“All three,” she replied.

This honest answer made Lao Ping’s attitude soften a bit. He was used to seeing her tough, so now he ate up the softness. He sighed and patted her arm: “That’s enough. It’s been so many days—look at the bright side. You’re so beautiful, there’s no need for this.”

“What happened with Zhou Yicong?” She didn’t respond to Lao Ping’s words.

Lao Ping had the assistant close the room door and draped a coat over her. A cleaning service worker pushing a cart walked away down the corridor. He walked while sending work messages, saying: “Couldn’t find him all morning. Today it’s all scenes with you and him. Liu Bi is going crazy.”

Liu Bi was Zhou Yicong’s agent’s real name.

“What about me?”

“Go get your makeup done first, then wait at the hotel for news. You can’t film if he doesn’t come back. But looking at your condition, you can’t be on camera anyway, so it’s good—Zhou Yicong is taking the blame for you.”

“I saw them arguing downstairs last night.”

“Who?”

Long Qi gave Lao Ping a listless look. Lao Ping caught on: “Oh, Zhou Yicong and Liu Bi? You saw that too? Well then, it must be about the agent overreaching. Someone like you should be thrown at Liu Bi’s place for a couple days, guaranteed…”

Long Qi continued looking at him.

“…Guaranteed she’d be choked speechless by you,” Lao Ping said.

At the elevator entrance, Lao Ping pressed the button. The elevator door opened—empty inside. She leaned against the handrail on the elevator wall. The female assistant began checking her eyes, murmuring: “Should we apply some ice…”

“Is it obvious?” Lao Ping leaned over. “Let me see.”

At the same time, footsteps from another group came from outside the elevator. Wu Jiakui’s thin, hoarse voice mixed among them, from distant to near: “…I don’t care if it’s New Year’s Day or the second day. I’m only free today. You figure out a solution.”

The elevator door was about to close. The other assistant instinctively held the door. When it opened again, Long Qi happened to lift her eyes indifferently, while Wu Jiakui stood outside, right hand holding her phone, patting it into her left palm repeatedly. The two women’s gazes met soundlessly. Wu Jiakui’s small gesture paused slightly. The Yorkshire Terrier in her assistant’s arms barked once—crisp and clear.

Less than two seconds later, Wu Jiakui smiled slightly: “Good morning, Uncle Ping.”

“Morning, Jiakui. Come in, there’s plenty of space.” Lao Ping, unaware of the situation, responded.

The elevator door closed.

The enclosed space, five people’s intermittent subtle breathing, oppressive atmosphere. Long Qi still leaned against the elevator wall. Wu Jiakui stood in front of her with her back turned, fifteen centimeters of distance between them. She focused on browsing a parenting website on her phone page. Her assistant beside her asked timidly: “Kuikui… really can’t make an appointment. Plus, about the tattoo, we still need to ask Sister Wu first…”

Before the assistant finished, Wu Jiakui looked at her.

The assistant shut her mouth.

But Wu Jiakui immediately turned her head toward Lao Ping: “Uncle Ping, do you have any reliable tattoo artists to introduce me to? The one I originally scheduled missed his flight and can’t make it. I’m having a headache.”

“Oh? What do you want tattooed?”

“Pao’er.” Wu Jiakui’s fingers teased around the Yorkshire Terrier’s mouth.

“A tattoo of your beloved dog, haha.” Lao Ping chatted politely, naturally tossing the question toward Long Qi: “Qiqi is familiar with this area. Don’t you have a few tattoo artist friends…”

“Don’t know any.”

Lao Ping was choked back, somewhat awkward. Wu Jiakui smiled. The two assistants exchanged glances.

“It’s fine.” Three seconds later, Wu Jiakui said.

Ding—the elevator reached the ground floor.

Lao Ping and the two assistants walked out. Long Qi passed Wu Jiakui, her finger pressing the close-door button with a snap. Lao Ping turned back. Wu Jiakui’s assistant was stunned. The Yorkshire Terrier in her arms jumped down, slipping through the door gap into the elevator. The door clicked shut. Long Qi turned and took half a step. Wu Jiakui also imperceptibly retreated half a step. Two steps of distance maintained between them, gazes locked directly. The dog barked at their feet, disturbing the already tense atmosphere.

Wu Jiakui’s assistant pounded on the door outside. Lao Ping, still being loyal to his own people, immediately lied with eyes wide open: “The elevator must have malfunctioned. Why did it suddenly close?”

Inside, Wu Jiakui remained composed, even with light in her eyes. Long Qi said casually, “Who says it doesn’t matter?” She picked up the thread: “You—you’re in a bad mood. I understand.”

“Think carefully about whether it matters or doesn’t matter, whether you want face or not.”

“What huge problem involves wanting face or not?”

“You guess.”

“I didn’t steal or rob. The person I’m pursuing is properly single. Do I need to say to your face ‘I’m going to start pursuing Jin Yiken now’ to be considered aboveboard and having face?”

“Oh wow,” Long Qi nodded. “We were talking about tattoo artists, but you matched yourself to that guy. Great.”

“We could continue chatting about tattoo artists, but I’m worried you have nowhere to vent your resentment.”

Word by word, step by step, Wu Jiakui was backed against the elevator wall, her eyes still burning as they locked with Long Qi’s. Long Qi said: “If you’re not guilty, what are you afraid of?”

The Yorkshire Terrier emitted threatening low growls at Long Qi. Wu Jiakui’s hand reached back to grip the handrail: “I’m afraid if you can’t win with words, you’ll get physical. Super scared.”

Long Qi’s hand also gripped the handrail, trapping Wu Jiakui in a triangular zone: “Then let me tell you first—I love playing dirty. Tearing faces and pulling hair, I’m absolutely skilled at it. Whether there’s a reason or not, provoke me less, and I’ll treat you two as if you’re dead.”

“Then let me also remind you—think of an excuse to get away unscathed first, because I’m going to his sister’s full-month celebration tonight. Explaining the origins of scratches and scars on my body in public then would be so embarrassing.”

“Even better,” only half a step of distance between them, breaths colliding. “Help me thoroughly check Jin Yiken’s phone and computer—see if all those photos and videos of me are deleted cleanly. Better if they’re not. If you find them, don’t peek—inappropriate for minors, too stimulating for you.”

Wu Jiakui’s breathing remained steady. Before she could respond, the elevator door suddenly opened again. Her gaze shifted toward the entrance.

“Kuikui?”

Wu Jiakui’s aunt pressed the button on the wall, just arrived. Seeing this scene, she questioned them: “What’s this standoff between you two? What are you talking about?”

Lao Ping stood beside her, arms crossed anxiously, stroking his chin, eyes darting around. As soon as Sister Wu finished speaking, he immediately went into crisis management mode: “It’s like this, Sister Wu—the elevator broke, couldn’t open at all. Our Qiqi was comforting Kuikui.”

Long Qi released her grip, lazily retreating under Lao Ping’s explanation. Only then did Wu Jiakui’s body relax. The two women’s gazes still locked, sparks flying.

“Broken?” Sister Wu pointed at the buttons on the wall. “What broke? I pressed it once and it opened.”

“Oh?” Lao Ping pretended to press it. “Hey, it really did. This elevator is kind of creepy like this. Xiao Wu, go report this situation to the front desk. This is too dangerous.”

The female assistant nodded repeatedly, leaving under Sister Wu’s half-believing gaze.

Long Qi walked to the elevator entrance. Sister Wu still scrutinized her suspiciously. She stopped in place, taking a light breath, adding: “Didn’t you want a tattoo?”

“You want a tattoo?”

Sister Wu immediately turned to stare at Wu Jiakui. Wu Jiakui ignored her, listening.

“Go ask Jin Yiken. The tattoo artist who did mine is from there. That Alaskan Malamute on his arm—I can tell from the style, it was done by the same person,” Long Qi said slowly without turning her head. “That dog is called Long Er—it takes my surname.”

…

After dropping this statement, she didn’t look at Wu Jiakui again or wait for any reaction from behind. She left the elevator. Lao Ping followed her for two steps, looking like he’d guessed the general situation. When they fully turned into a corridor, he coughed once: “As for matters of the heart, try not to bring them into work.”

It was a reminder, but he didn’t interfere.

For the entire rest of the day, she had no further interaction with Wu Jiakui. Since she had an appointment on Jin Yiken’s side in the evening, she had no mind to provoke anything here. Zhou Yicong didn’t appear either. The crew’s schedule was delayed. The production team had complaints. Long Qi treated it as a day off, staying in her hotel room studying her script. Outside the window, the sleet continued intermittently. Cold wind squeezed through the window gaps, burrowing into her thin clothes. The moment she paused even slightly, her brain began replaying on loop what Jin Yiken had said to her at dawn. While memorizing lines, her eyes ached. Her palm stroked across her forehead, supporting her forehead as she continued memorizing, continuously memorizing.

Around eight in the evening, someone knocked on the hotel room door. When she opened it, she finally saw Zhou Yicong, who’d been missing all day.

Zhou Yicong’s outer coat was soaked with rain. He looked even more haggard than her. He asked: “Want to drink? My treat.”

“I won’t drink with you.” She moved to close the door. Zhou Yicong placed his hand on the door panel, the motion’s range bringing out a wave of alcohol smell.

“Then do you know where any taverns are still open on New Year’s Day night?”

She sighed.

Half an hour later, in a barbecue restaurant’s private room half a block from the hotel, a staff member carried a case of alcohol to the table, took out two bottles to place on the table surface and opened them, then proceeded to serve cold dishes and barbecue.

Zhou Yicong filled his glass and downed the entire glass in his first gulp. Long Qi sat leaning against the wall, wearing little underneath, wrapped in a thick oversized coat, the coat’s two sleeves hanging empty. She aimed finished edamame shells at the trash can across the table, tossing them one by one slowly. The TV directly above the trash can was broadcasting some anniversary celebration programs. After switching several channels, she saw Zhou Yicong’s “scandalous” entertainment news about him checking into a hotel with an eighteenth-tier young artist. When this news first broke, it completely overshadowed Long Qi’s breakup drama that had been hot for weeks and still wasn’t clean, and the embers still hadn’t died even now—it had given Lao Ping quite a few good nights’ sleep.

She changed the channel again.

Zhou Yicong said: “This industry—I don’t want to do it anymore.”

She didn’t look at him.

Zhou Yicong continued: “She didn’t even dare open her phone those days.”

Only then did she glance at him slightly, taking an edamame from the plate: “Your agent?”

“Ningning.”

The bean went into her mouth, the shell tossed toward the trash can: “Gao Ningning?”

Zhou Yicong nodded.

This guy had already drunk a bit before coming. His eyes weren’t very clear. Now he silently dropped a huge piece of gossip. Long Qi continued methodically picking at edamame: “Wasn’t she the one who created the news?”

“Liu Bi forced her to admit it, to protect me.”

Long Qi was too lazy to stir up his murky waters, responded with an “oh.” This topic was unilaterally and vaguely ended by her. But Zhou Yicong didn’t want to end it. He came specifically to drink and chat with her. But this person was habitually cautious. He filled a glass and continued hesitating: “I really admire you—so young yet daring to be yourself.”

“You said it yourself—so young. It’s just a newborn calf not fearing the tiger. By the time I’m Lao Ping’s age, I might be even more cowardly than him,” Long Qi pressed the remote to change channels. “So you went missing today to show Liu Bi attitude?”

“I went to find Ningning.”

“Oh wow.” Another huge piece of gossip she had zero interest in.

This female artist, Gao Ningning, had been one of Long Qi’s competitors a year ago.

But thirty years on the east side of the river, thirty years on the west—not to mention the ever-changing entertainment industry. Right now Long Qi was carrying a film’s female lead, while Gao Ningning still mixed in modeling circles, taking the homebody goddess route—young and sexy, average popularity. But in terms of male-female relationships, she was top-tier at mixing well in the industry. Back when Long Qi still had to wait for her arrival before filming could start, she’d had a fling with one of the male artists under Lao Ping’s management. Unfortunately, her personality was too flamboyant, and she’d taken too many explicit photos in her early years. The relationship ultimately ended in a breakup after fan mockery about being “mismatched.”

Ordinary people at this point would definitely be dejected, but she became increasingly brave through setbacks. Subsequently, the “boyfriends” in her rumored scandals became increasingly famous, reaching a peak with Zhou Yicong. Although none had publicly acknowledged her, her career also thrived on these scandals. Therefore, she was collectively labeled a “clout-chaser” by male celebrities’ fans, and all sides avoided her like the plague.

Clout-chaser—female celebrities who “touched porcelain” with popular male stars to leech resources.

Those scandals also shared a common thread—all spread through her channels.

Even Lao Ping kept a pile of her shady history specifically to guard against her hooking up with his artists. Later, thinking that his hottest artist was Long Qi—female—he relaxed. After the Dong Xi incident, he prudently pulled out Gao Ningning’s dark files again.

But who really knew what her character was like? It might be another “wrongful case” created by hearsay.

“Ningning is quite innocent,” Zhou Yicong, as the closest person, evaluated. “We’re serious, but no one believes it.”

The phone dinged.

Long Qi listened while taking out her phone from her pocket. Before going out, she’d sent Si Bolin a message saying she wanted to terminate the rental of his place, hand over the house and return the rent in one transaction. The reason was that she and Jin Yiken had completely split, and her own financial chain was broken too. Keeping it was both distressing and unnecessary. The message came now—Si Bolin replied with two messages, each no more than four words.

—No way.

—I spent it all.

“Damn,” she muttered quietly.

Zhou Yicong didn’t notice. His entire emotions were still immersed. He said: “Within half a day of news about me and her coming out, her phone couldn’t be turned on.”

“Why?” She looked up, tossing the phone back in her pocket.

“Someone hacked her iCloud, used her life photos and home address to threaten her to break up,” he smiled bitterly. “Those people who claimed to like and understand me also personally generated hundreds of thousands of comments cursing me overnight. I looked—looked for an entire night. I just fell in love with a woman, yet it’s like I killed their parents.”

“And this circle,” he rubbed his face, eyes reddening from alcohol. “This circle is too势利. When one side has trouble, eight sides kick them when they’re down. People who have nothing to do with it are also busy hyping this news. Why? Because once I fall, the interests released—those endorsements, those advertisements, those dramas—sooner or later one will fall into their pockets. They want to lick it twice. This circle has no sincerity.”

“So only Liu Bi is sincere to you.”

Long Qi’s response hit the nail on the head. Zhou Yicong tapped the table with his fingers, squinting: “Liu Bi? The person who used the contract against me, saying if I don’t break up it counts as breach of contract and demanding I immediately produce thirty million—she’s sincere to me?”

The edamame was finished. The marinade in the plate reflected light under the energy-saving lamp, shining brightly.

“So today, I broke up with Gao Ningning.”

…

…

Long Qi looked at Zhou Yicong saying this. All his previous sentimentality, at this moment, was completely withdrawn. Expressionless, as if stripped of seven emotions and six desires. After saying this sentence, his back sank heavily against the seat. Her fingers hung beside her knees. She nodded: “So you men’s love can really stop just like that.”

…

“And then,” she asked again, “since you like her but won’t be with her, can you accept other people?”

“Can I?” Zhou Yicong asked back.

Right—he couldn’t. His romance was criminal.

But she didn’t understand Jin Yiken.

One sentence “if it’s not you, then whatever” kept her living in gloom all day, unable to see the road. Why say such things? Why, when he clearly also admitted that only with her was there love, would he still reject her? Thinking about it made her head hurt. After drinking a mouthful of alcohol, she extended her arms into the coat’s sleeves: “Two people equally miserable can’t comfort each other. I’m uncomfortable. I’m going back first.”

“Precisely because we’re equally miserable, I thought you could understand.”

Zhou Yicong said this lightly as she dressed. She replied: “Then you really overestimated me. I don’t even understand myself.”

…

Coming out of the shop entrance, a mouthful of cold air made her cough twice. The sleet wasn’t intimidating at all. The water flow at the drain opening swirled into eddies. She tossed her hair, red-eyed, looking at the vertical rain curtain under the orange-yellow streetlight. The harsh words she’d released to Jin Yiken at dawn had given her satisfaction for a whole day, but come nightfall she’d lost her armor again. Some things simply couldn’t be foreseen—like what he’d said on the basketball court when chasing Dong Xi in senior year. A prophecy fulfilled. What she’d pushed away then had truly become what now tore her heart to pieces. She didn’t know how long it would take to move on, how to move on. Having truly tasted a living, bloody love affair, heart, body, and soul all intertwined with each other—everything else was now tasteless.

Rain pattered on the shop entrance steps. She called Lao Ping. Lao Ping asked where she was. She replied: “Have there been any people pursuing me recently?”

“What?”

“Fat ones, short ones, tall ones, thin ones, rich ones, poor ones—not a single one?”

“…Inside and outside the industry, there are plenty who want to win you over. But first tell me what you’re trying to do?”

“I want to date, Lao Ping. How old am I? Why should my heart be like dead wood at this age?”

She replied slowly, in a tone without fluctuation.