This window tap, casual and breezy. The assistant in the back seat said nothing. She took a breath.

The window descended.

All the way down.

Long Qi’s hair covered her forehead. When she looked at him, Jin Yiken bent down, elbow resting on the window ledge, eyes meeting directly, getting straight to the point: “He said there’s someone in the car I know. This accident is entirely his fault, but I have insurance. You tell me—should I give you face and make this a small matter, or make him compensate until he doubts his existence?”

This bastard.

Jin Yiken’s gaze also idly moved down, seeing the phone screen in her hand. That chat conversation that caused Dou Junyun’s accident still lit up. He then slowly looked at her, at the vague bloodstain behind her hair. Long Qi said: “Make him pay to death. Nothing to do with me anyway.”

Jin Yiken’s hand reached toward her forehead, brushing aside her hair. Long Qi turned her head away. His thumb pad touched blood.

Then he straightened up, didn’t say anything, too lazy to communicate with her. He walked back to the negotiation spot with Dou Junyun, hands in pockets, talking, casting a faint glance in her direction.

Jin Yiken demanded an exorbitant price, making Dou Junyun compensate to the bone.

Before leaving, he came to the Cayenne’s passenger side again, directly pulling the car door. Long Qi’s shoulder leaned against the door, unexpectedly tilting sideways. She heard him say: “I’m going to the hospital to pick someone up. Coming or not?”

“Hell no.”

“Up to you.”

The door was smoothly closed again. Jin Yiken really just cleanly left. His car parked beside the curb ten meters away, being recorded by some onlooking pedestrians with phones raised. Luxury car-level accidents always made social news. This person too lazy to even register social media accounts—he left faster than Dou Junyun the perpetrator. His driver’s side door slowly closed. Long Qi turned her head away, avoiding the assistant’s approaching caring hands: “You take a taxi back.”

The Cayenne’s driver door clicked open. Dou Junyun, face ashen, just got in the car when Long Qi pushed the door and got out. Couldn’t stand being in the same space with this person anymore. Hair flying with the amplitude of her steps. Surrounding pedestrians in a chorus of low exclamations “It’s Long Qi, it’s Long Qi.” Dou Junyun reacted quickly too, getting out and following to the car’s rear. Just about to try to keep her, she directly raised her arm to prevent him from touching her. Jin Yiken’s passenger door wasn’t closed yet. He sat inside sending messages, thumb pressing phone keyboard, cigarette held between index and middle fingers.

After Long Qi got in the passenger seat, he didn’t lift his head once, only tapped ash out the window. As the passenger door closed, he slid the phone with a click into the storage slot in the center of the seat: “Fasten your seatbelt.”

Then, flooring the gas onto the road. A wave of inertia inside the car. Dou Junyun’s face and car swept past like a gale.

After releasing harsh words on New Year’s Eve to draw clear boundaries, the two had no further contact. Half a month had passed since. Nothing to say. The car sped. Her elbow rested by the car window, knuckles still pressed against her lips. Jin Yiken stubbed out the cigarette in the car ashtray, turned on music—Simon Curtis’s “D.T.M” playing halfway through.

The entire car cabin surrounded by “you’re dead to me.” She listened for half a minute, silently switched songs. Switched to also Simon Curtis’s “Super Psycho Love.” Again the entire car cabin surrounded by “Say that you want me.” Jin Yiken had no reaction, only turned up the car volume—a gesture of if you want to listen, let her listen to her fill. When it reached deafening levels, she snapped the music off.

The contrast after clamor—the car interior utterly silent. She still looked out the window. Jin Yiken controlled the steering wheel with one hand.

That hand’s index finger wore a pure silver ring.

Before going to England, he’d specially bought a pair of couple rings. He often wore the men’s ring on his middle finger. Long Qi rarely wore the women’s ring—Lao Ping watched her then, wouldn’t let her wear any jewelry revealing romantic relationships. Later when moving, she hadn’t paid attention to finding it either.

The ring on his hand now wasn’t that one from before.

In the moment when neither spoke to each other, Long Qi had even concluded that her act of getting in the car was a mistake and weak position. This was equivalent to putting herself on his chopping block waiting to be slaughtered. Emotions, breathing—all exposed without reserve in the enclosed space. His indifference and taciturnity were both a form of slow torture to her. But within this self-aware erroneous emotion was no regret—it was an itch. A certain itch mixed with hate and desire. An itch where they ignored each other yet desperately listened to each other’s breathing. An itch where every action and movement wanted to disturb his attention. When did Jin Yiken’s abilities become so great? When did she become so uncontrolled?

“So this is the you Bai Aiting always saw.” She still looked out the window, speaking.

Jin Yiken finally glanced in her direction.

She didn’t look at him.

He turned the steering wheel. The car’s speed slowed, turning into the small road at the hospital’s back entrance. She said: “I’ll get off here.”

An unlocking sound in the car. The passenger door rose. She got out of the car. Wind blew up her hair. The wound on her forehead felt the cold. She circled the car front, entered the hospital without looking back.

Later, while receiving bandaging treatment in the third-floor clinic, she saw through the clinic window the scene at the back entrance. Jin Yiken picked up the person he was picking up—a baby. He held his sister with one hand descending the hospital steps, an older nanny following behind. At the passenger side, the nanny received the baby from his arms and sat in the car, movements careful. He circled to the driver’s side. Only then did he squint briefly in the hospital building’s direction, then briefly withdrew, got in the car and left.

She remembered the child Jin Yiken had once wanted to keep.

If a different decision had been made back then, now it should also be this wailing, sleepy appearance. She also remembered what Jin Yiken said when drunk before going abroad. He said that was when he most wanted to marry her. At this moment, the sports car’s heavy engine sound roared past. The nurse applied medicine to her forehead. She hissed, sucking in a breath.

Smoke dispersed, clouds scattered.

…

Jin Yiken and Dou Junyun’s luxury car accident ultimately made news columns on portal websites.

At this point, his “famous rich second generation” title was solidly established. Meanwhile, the video of Long Qi abandoning Dou Junyun and getting in Jin Yiken’s car trended on searches. Jin Yiken was obviously also annoyed by media following. The speed of reducing heat could never catch up with the speed of creating news. He simply let information explode. Anyway, he had no social media accounts—no one could harass him.

But Long Qi had one. Wu Jiakui also had one.

Self-proclaimed clever netizens analyzed the situation, feeling it was really especially clear—just some female celebrities’ love triangle争夺 relationship. Plus previous rumors questioning how Long Qi just debuted yet got a heavyweight film’s female lead—the water was deep. Wu Jiakui might have had a role stolen. Now getting entangled with Jin Yiken was also very thought-provoking. Jin Yiken’s family background was awesome, he himself awesome, looks also awesome. Now also preparing to open a company, bringing capital into the circle to promote people for fun. So young yet so capable of causing trouble—which female celebrity wouldn’t like him? Former and current girlfriends being jealous was also possible. So Long Qi and Jin Yiken as ex-boyfriend and girlfriend were in an ambiguous lingering connection, while Wu Jiakui, whose family background matched Jin Yiken’s, was in an ambiguous period. The outer circle also involved Ban Wei, Zhou Yicong, Gao Ningning—a series of celebrities… Anyway, netizens were definitely watching this big drama, even working together to create a scorecard.

Currently Long Qi got one point, tying with Wu Jiakui.

Fans were also very into the drama.

One side hadn’t spoken, but both sides’ fans had already been led by the rhythm, confronting fiercely. One side said Wu Jiakui was young yet deeply scheming—clearly an old smoker and nightclub regular yet shamelessly taking the pure good daughter route. The other side said Long Qi relied on looks to commit crimes through unspoken rules to steal roles, relied on bad girl persona to swindle when actually she had a pile of dark history… Each had their dark spots, each had their couple party. Instead, the film’s promotion side saved effort—the drama hadn’t finished filming yet, but already became this year’s most watched crew.

Less than a day later, that video segment of her being interviewed by paparazzi on the escalator was also exposed.

After this interview aired on TV, Lao Ping rewatched it several times, watching with sighs. Long Qi was in the crew dressing room changing clothes then. The costume designer handmade an especially beautiful but especially complex corset for her to wear, similar to mid-twentieth-century waist cinching. She held the script watching the scene. Two costume designers whooshed and tightened the corset, cinching her until she coughed once, hand gripping the wall, script falling to the ground. Her entire figure also came out—a wave of erotic breath. The costume designer then tied ribbons behind her back, threading in and out, tying several knots. Lao Ping wanted to lecture her again. She said she wasn’t in the mood to listen.

Her mind was now all focused on a sex scene about to be filmed.

When accepting the role, Lao Ping had mentioned it, but at that time she was busy getting involved with Dong Xi’s affairs, didn’t listen. Not until a few days ago did she start taking it seriously.

This scene was her as a key witness in a murder case developing feelings in a rental house with the detective investigating her. The detective knew she was evil and ominous, yet developed a possessive desire transcending morality toward her. From initial rejection to later violent sex, finally revealing her hand, causing his true murderer identity to be exposed before the arrogant police officer played by Zhou Yicong.

The one playing the tyrannical detective was Best Actor Zang Xipu.

After two months of scenes together, there indeed was a spark between her and Zang Xipu’s roles—both teacher and lover. Plus the social status and age gap between both characters (she played a 20-year-old illegal immigrant, Zang Xipu played a middle-aged crisis detective the same age as himself, 36), making morality, case-solving, and desire three lines running parallel. This scene was very important. The director took it very seriously, so specifically had her and Zang Xipu grind together for over two months first. Only daring to film after both entered their roles.

But those two months she just spent her energy grinding with Jin Yiken.

After wrapping the corset, the costume designer put a dress with a torn feeling on her. Sprayed something on her hair, neck, collarbone to create a sweating effect. The erotic feeling more intense. Putting a men’s jacket outside (the detective’s clothes). Styling completed.

The rental house in the scene was built in the studio warehouse—no roof. From the warehouse’s second-floor corridor, the entire layout could be seen. She walked beside her assistant, focused on sending messages. Ban Wei recently busy with his own concert, hadn’t tracked Wu Jiakui’s news for a while. Now asking her for inside intelligence. She replied halfway when Dou Junyun sent a message.

—How are you recently?

This person actually still had the face to find her.

She looked for the “add to blacklist” button on the page. Dou Junyun immediately sent another one.

—I broke up. Even before you, I already planned to break up with her. I understand your anger point. I was a bastard. Give me a chance to make amends?

“Where do you delete people?” She turned her head to ask the assistant.

Then pressed the voice key to reply: “Don’t flatter yourself. Whether you have a girlfriend or not has nothing to do with me. Self-awareness is clear, but don’t dump this breakup blame on me…”

Words unfinished, she saw Wu Jiakui five meters away. Her fingertip suddenly sweated, separating from the screen. The unfinished voice message whooshed out.

Wu Jiakui was rehearsing scenes with an actor.

She stood, arms crossed, rolled-up script gripped in hand, two assistants and a stylist clustered beside her. While focusing on listening to the person before her speak, she lowered her left hand, stroking the person sitting on the reclining chair behind her.

Long Qi’s gaze was on that reclining chair.

His body was mostly blocked by Wu Jiakui, but couldn’t withstand the familiar hand movement turning the phone. Legs crossed, an Alaskan Malamute with sable-colored fur circling by his knee. His tattooed hand hung beside the armrest, index finger slowly moving, teasing the Alaskan. Wu Jiakui’s hand always gently stroked his shoulder, as if smoothing the agitation arising from his long wait. Until Wu Jiakui slightly moved her body, Jin Yiken’s profile was revealed—lazy, bored. The dog trainer on the front left whistled once, clapping and calling “Long Er.” The Alaskan alertly stood up with ears pricked, whooshing toward the dog trainer’s direction.

Her steps slowed because of this scene. Lao Ping behind her walked faster than her, turned back to look at her, then followed her gaze to look at the dog. Coughed once, noting her expression.

“Filming needs this fur color Alaskan. Wu Jiakui… Wu Jiakui helped the crew borrow it.”

Wu Jiakui went to borrow “Long Er” from Jin Yiken.

At the same time, the director beckoned and snapped fingers toward Long Qi’s direction.

This sound was loud. Everyone in a circle around the director looked over. Zang Xipu, who’d just finished discussing the scene with the director, looked over with arms crossed. Wu Jiakui rehearsing looked over. Jin Yiken sitting in the chair feeling life exceptionally boring also looked over. Long Qi slowly placed her phone in the jacket pocket, one hand tucked in. Jin Yiken’s gaze fell on her face, then moved down, methodically falling on her slightly wet hair ends, collarbone.

The temperature in the studio was truly stifling like dog days of summer.

This glance cast over didn’t exceed three seconds.

Jin Yiken withdrew his gaze in the fourth second, as if he’d looked at an ordinary female celebrity. Zang Xipu called her name in the fifth second. Jin Yiken’s profile was blocked by Wu Jiakui’s body. His phone still slowly turned there. Long Qi walked toward the director’s direction. Zang Xipu leaned against the wooden table edge in the rental house set, wearing a white shirt, collar tie half-pulled. Waiting for her to arrive, took the whiskey on the table, poured a small half glass into the wine glass.

“Don’t be nervous.” The director was a literary old man over fifty, usually stern-faced. Coming out with such a sentence now, not even looking in Long Qi’s direction—the comfort completely lacking sincerity. Zang Xipu shook his head and smiled, handing her the alcohol.

“It’ll be cold later, drink some first.”

Though she took the glass, her other hand took the whiskey bottle from Zang Xipu’s hand, continuing to pour inside. At this time the director had people beside him step back. Tone still without emotional fluctuation, asking: “Have experience?”

Long Qi laughed coldly at the air. The liquid surface reached the glass rim. Zang Xipu pressed her wrist to stop. She moved her hand away, causing Zang Xipu’s hand to fall empty. Facing Jin Yiken’s direction: “Yes.”

Jin Yiken still sat there lazily. Wu Jiakui squatted down, gripping his chair armrest talking.

The director perhaps hadn’t expected this crisp answer. Looked at her once, but reaction wasn’t big. Continued asking: “Want to clear the set?”

“No need.”

“I’m nervous instead.”

Zang Xipu seemed joking, seemed serious. Looking at the half-empty whiskey bottle in her hand, saying lightly.

Outside the rental house set, Jin Yiken’s elbows slowly rested on both knees, phone hanging in mid-air. Wu Jiakui smilingly said something of unknown content. His gaze, because of her long attention to him, simply reversed, burning as it fell on her.

Fell on Long Qi drinking the whiskey in one gulp, liquid sliding from mouth corner to collarbone, skin slick and wet.

…

The clapperboard snapped once. Her lower back hit the table edge.

Before filming started, Zang Xipu said to just treat him as someone she’d loved. If not, then hated.

Also relying on her admitted sentence of “have experience,” he told her all possible situations that might occur during filming. He might hurt her. As a normal man he might react. But he would also try his best to protect her. If he had a reaction, he apologized. And if he didn’t have a reaction—

He said: “Then I also apologize.”

The lens followed half a meter away. Strong light hitting the eyes. Zang Xipu’s hand gripped her nape, pinching until her skin turned white. The tattooed arm’s veins bulged. Then whooshed pulling her jacket outward. Bare shoulders exposed. Her hand grabbed his collar, lifting her knee against his abdomen. Eyes meeting—wanting him to restrain yet wanting him to go mad. Burning fire yet flowing water. Zang Xipu then embraced and pressed her onto the bed. The entire wooden bed creaked, as if about to break. Long Qi retreated. Her ankle grabbed by him. Panting, chest heaving, forehead perspiring, eyes hiding bloodthirsty desire. Then whooshed being pulled back by him. His arms braced on both sides of her body, body pressing down. Long Qi retreated again. Jin Yiken lit a cigarette then.

How sweltering here, how calm there. Ash slowly tapped between two fingers. Everything as if in slow motion. White smoke drifted from his lips. He watched her unmovingly. His face now became Zang Xipu’s face.

Became in Long Qi’s eyes Zang Xipu’s face pressing closer step by step. Like every previous time grinding in their private world. Zang Xipu’s palm pressed on her neck—like Jin Yiken previously choking her neck and biting her. Her eyes held hate, held desire. Held Zang Xipu’s subsequent fake sexual motion entering emotion. Her sweat scattered fragrance, eyes soul-capturing. Unconvinced, still staring at Zang Xipu up close, hiding a “come on, show your true form” provocation. The lens followed tightly. Jin Yiken’s elbows heavily pressed against his knees. The cigarette’s smell drifted all the way to her nostrils. Zang Xipu’s forehead pressed against hers, pressing her.

Staff members’ mouths dry, listening to the studio’s transmitted wooden “creaking” sounds and fabric tearing sounds. Long Qi’s stockings torn a large empty section—a ripping sound. Zang Xipu forcefully pressed her knee, beginning lip biting and grinding. His body also hot, breathing also heavy. Long Qi moaned because of his excessively forceful press. Zang Xipu’s hand moved from bottom to upper body, exerting force on her neck, beginning to choke her. Even choked until her face reddened, she still glared at him—glaring as if “is this all you’ve got.” Sweat from his forehead dripped onto her brow. Then pressed down to kiss her. At this time, the originally agreed-upon lip-touching kiss changed due to both parties being too into character.

Zang Xipu went into a deep kiss.

That instant, she reacted by loosening the tightly clasped ten fingers with Zang Xipu, chest heaving. The photographer didn’t notice. The director didn’t notice. But Jin Yiken noticed. He watched the “natural” faintly visible tongue kiss between her and Zang Xipu. Expressionless. The open-lidded lighter in his hanging five fingers turned circles repeatedly—like a cluster of soaring flames, also like a gun about to misfire.

Zang Xipu’s choking force on her became heavier. Long Qi’s back of head hit the wooden board. She made a sound.

He knew at this time she should act out despair and grief—using extreme methods to pull back her state. The director silently pursed lips tightly staring at the monitor. The entire set utterly silent. She stared at Zang Xipu, yet seemed to see Jin Yiken.

Saw Jin Yiken with reddened eyes choking her neck—young and reckless, as if wanting her to be buried with his dead love.

In her head, a parade of fleeting skin-to-skin intimacies with him. Remembering her fingernails leaving scratch marks on his shoulder blades. Remembering the ashtray he smashed before her. Remembering the cigarette butt he threw in the water glass. In this moment of brain oxygen deprivation, everything suddenly made sense. It was numerous immature emotional games and fated misses that created today’s situation. Also her unyielding stubborn temper. Her self-righteous toughness. Her selfish thought that as long as she lowered her head she should naturally be forgiven. All this destroyed Jin Yiken’s dignity, destroyed his three years of persistence and love, made him utterly defeated, so that he said “if it’s not you, then whatever.” She personally killed this person, still unaware.

And that Jin Yiken who loved her could never come back to life.

Regret, grief, boundless despair. Tears slid from eye corners to ear roots. She looked at the blinding white light and backlighted Zang Xipu. Zang Xipu raised his arm toward her, hand forming a fist, veins bulging, fiercely slamming toward her head!

Thud—!

“Cut!”

The director applauded. The entire set applauded. Lao Ping raised his hand high with thumbs up. Long Qi coughed on her side.

Hair scattered on the messy bedsheets. A dent smashed beside her head. Red scratches fell on arms and calves. Zang Xipu’s first action after leaving character was to pull her up, embrace her to add outer clothing, pat her back teaching her breathing methods, professionally soothing her emotions. In her ear saying three sentences: “You did it. You’re great. I’m sorry.”

Her long hair stuck wetly to her shoulders, eyes still red. After her forehead pressed against Zang Xipu’s for a while, she was embraced by him again. Chin resting on his shoulder, looking toward where Jin Yiken originally sat.

That chair was already empty.

Wu Jiakui also wasn’t there. Only on the armrest still sat an open-lidded lighter. The flame flickered with air flow, repeatedly leaping. No sound.

…

Three hours after this scene ended, when she smoked, her hands still trembled.

Emotions delayed in returning. Eyelashes still wet and sticky. Zang Xipu had an assistant send a bottle of red wine to her suite, placed in a container full of ice cubes. A note stuck on the bottle, written with a passage in English.

—All this time is passing by. Good night, my heroine.