The stall door slammed shut forcefully. Her body jerked from the tremendous sound. By the time the door bounced back open, the restroom’s main door had already opened—Jin Yiken had left.
Long Qi’s hand pressed against the door panel.
When she emerged from the restroom, she wore only a thin T-shirt, her jacket in hand, walking slowly. Fang Xuan, who had been ready to point at her nose and curse, froze for a moment. Men rushing to use the restroom brushed past her shoulders one after another. She swept back her hair. A tear silently fell, landing on the ground.
Later, she called a taxi back to the hotel.
The car window was half-open, blowing the hair by her forehead. She hugged her arms, watching the orange-yellow streetlights along the way. The thin T-shirt couldn’t block the cold. She was catching a chill, but her skin still retained the previous sensations. Like a memory card being activated, all those past touches and kisses came flooding back in rapid succession. She remembered the “little black room” next to the teachers’ office at Beifan High School—that so-called “psychological counseling room” used to reform stubborn students had been Jin Yiken’s favorite place to wait for her. Every time she was ordered by her homeroom teacher to reflect there, inside there was always him, legs crossed, having waited for her through half a class period. He was clearly the person least likely in the entire school to enter this little black room, yet he became the most familiar with every table, chair, wall, and door in it. Jin Yiken had held her there, unbuttoned her school uniform, kissed the back of her neck, and when she was full of anger from being scolded by the homeroom teacher, he had leisurely helped her with her homework—making him skip an entire main class.
Back then, she had liked Dong Xi and looked down on him. She had never considered the matter of “him leaving,” as if his indulgence toward her was natural and eternal. She had no close female friends, no relatives who cared for her from the heart, no spiritual mentor. Yet during those three years of high school, she never felt lonely—all because the Jin Yiken of that time had silently taken on all these roles. Only after he abruptly withdrew did she realize how dull the rest of her life would be.
But now it wouldn’t be so easy.
And what did biting her mean anyway?
She touched her shoulder, lost in thought.
The taxi arrived at the hotel. Just past midnight, there were no pedestrians on the street. She fumbled in her pocket for a while without finding any cash. She wanted to use a payment app, but her phone was dead. She asked the driver to wait while she went to the front desk to borrow some money. Just as she entered the hotel lobby, she happened to run into Assistant Wang from Zang Xipu’s team. Assistant Wang came straight toward her, holding two bills in her hand, saying, “Short on cash, right? Sister saw from upstairs and came to rescue you.”
“Teacher Zang hasn’t rested yet?” After Assistant Wang paid the fare and returned, she asked casually.
Assistant Wang paused, then said, “He’s rested.”
Her words had barely fallen when another car sound came from outside the hotel. She turned her head and saw Zhou Yicong bringing Gao Ningning back. Gao Ningning didn’t get out of the car. Zhou Yicong exited the driver’s seat, closing the car door while looking toward her with an apparent intention to talk.
Jin Yiken had let them off the hook after all.
But she couldn’t even be bothered to react. She turned her head and walked toward the elevator. Zhou Yicong took a few steps up the stairs, entered the lobby, and called out her name. She kept walking, exhausted and weary.
Zhou Yicong spread his hands behind her.
Like a silent farewell, directed at a relationship that had never been solid and had now been completely ruined by him.
The next day, Long Qi received news that Jin Yiken had returned to England for classes.
Last night had been his last day in the country anyway. He had a two o’clock morning flight, so there was a reason Zhou Yicong and Gao Ningning had been let off—he really didn’t have time to mess with those two anymore. The morning she received this news, she sat in front of the mirror for a long time, smoking, looking at the teeth marks Jin Yiken had left on her shoulder—a bright red patch, incredibly clear, still painful even now.
She had just finished showering.
Steam rose from her skin. Her hair was tied in a bun at the back of her head with a few strands falling loose against her neck, wet and damp. Her leg was propped on the edge of the vanity table. There was a bruise on her ankle from either filming or her near “tryst” with Jin Yiken. At this moment, Jin Yiken should be catching up on sleep on the plane. She wondered if he could sleep, wondered if she was in his thoughts.
She couldn’t sleep, at least.
What had been a heap of dead ashes just days ago now had sparks leaping up, making her heart itch and tingle.
The cigarette burned to its end, leaving her two fingers with the smell of tar. She sent another message to Dou Junyun, asking him to send Jin Yiken’s phone number. About five minutes later, Dou Junyun replied: You can’t forget him?
What business was it of his?
But Long Qi didn’t snap back. She typed: Yes, I can’t forget him.
Dou Junyun’s chat box showed he was typing. After more than ten seconds, he threw out a question: Do you know what path on an ex-girlfriend’s body is easiest to walk?
……
Dou Junyun: The vagina.
Her thumb paused on the keyboard, looking at the message Dou Junyun sent immediately after: If he was the one who wanted to break up, then from a man’s perspective, I’m telling you—even if he comes back, it’s only because sleeping with you doesn’t require responsibility, absolutely not because he’s fallen in love with you again. If you want to debase yourself, go ahead.
Then he sent a string of phone numbers.
A knot of frustration lodged in Long Qi’s chest.
Dou Junyun’s scorched-earth rhetoric was quite effective—if he couldn’t have her, he wouldn’t let her have peace either. So her thumb hesitated by this string of numbers for a long while before she still didn’t press the save button. Instead, she slid the phone onto the vanity table with a slap, rubbed her forehead, and gently pulled down the hair tie from behind her head. Her long hair scattered.
A knock came from the entrance.
She stared at the mirror, lost in thought.
A second knock came from the entrance before she finally stood up and looked through the peephole to see a whole delegation: Lao Ping, her female assistant, Zang Xipu, and his Assistant Wang.
Lao Ping was deferential to Zang Xipu. After knocking, he smiled at Zang Xipu with a hint of apology. Assistant Wang held a stack of magazines in her arms. Long Qi said, “Wait a moment.”
She changed into a T-shirt, put on an outer layer, and opened the door. Zang Xipu’s gaze fell on the few damp strands of hair on her neck. Then, perhaps sensing the steam emanating from her room, before Lao Ping habitually entered, he said, “It happens to be breakfast time. The coffee shop on the hotel’s second floor just got authentic Blue Mountain coffee beans. I think—shall we talk there?”
Long Qi looked at Lao Ping with a “talk about what?” expression on her face. Lao Ping didn’t dare delay and immediately chimed in, “Yes, yes, that’s a good place.”
“Then,” Zang Xipu gestured with his mouth, “meet at the coffee shop in half an hour. Is that enough time?”
He was asking about her makeup and changing time.
Lao Ping nodded for her: “Yes, that’s enough.”
After Zang Xipu left, Lao Ping was in an excellent mood and ran his hand over her forehead: “You’ve hit the jackpot.”
The door closed. The female assistant helped her with her clothes. She lifted her knee and sat at the foot of the bed. Lao Ping handed her a magazine: “Frago, the number one fashion magazine among the four major domestic fashion magazines. You’re in this business—you know how high the threshold for this magazine is. It’s a magazine where only goddess-level film empresses like Yan Wenjing show their faces. Even Zhou Yicong, who’s the hottest right now—Liu Bi has been working connections for a year and a half and still can’t get him in! Zang Xipu called me this morning. He wants to take you for a cover shoot.”
After finishing this statement, Lao Ping was still in a state of excitement and self-satisfaction. He stood with his hands on his hips, air huffing through his nose, as if he himself were about to be on the cover. He held up his finger to add, “And it’s the cover of Frago’s Italian edition, the most authentic version. After you’re on this cover, it’ll be like you’ve been gilded.”
Long Qi propped herself up on her elbows: “Why?”
“That’s why I said you hit the jackpot!” Lao Ping tapped the magazine cover with his finger again. “Originally, Zang Xipu was going to partner with Yan Wenjing for a ‘Double Emperors’ cover theme. But Yan Wenjing has been in a semi-retired state these past few years. Frago tried to get her for half a year but couldn’t nail it down. They finally got her to agree, but at the last moment, she postponed due to personal matters. So you get to pick up the opportunity. Zang Xipu pushed for you, and Yan Wenjing, who has a good relationship with Zang Xipu, also casually recommended you. That’s how you got confirmed!”
Zang Xipu, this big brother figure, was really loyal enough.
“Can I meet Yan Wenjing?” Long Qi asked.
Yan Wenjing was a particularly stylish actress—stunningly beautiful, devastatingly gorgeous, with an empress-level status. Long Qi had loved watching her film series since middle school. Lao Ping said, “I’d like to meet her too, but she’s living like a free-spirited hermit now. Even Frago couldn’t move her to come out of retirement. You’re just a little nobody—what do you think? So work hard, fight hard. If you want to meet people at a certain level, first kill your way to that level. Stop fooling around.”
Although Lao Ping’s words were crude, they made sense. She continued, “Do you know where the difference in hierarchy between you and Zang Xipu is, Lao Ping?”
“Where?”
“It’s that with one glance at the door, he knows not to casually enter a female actress’s room right after she’s showered. But you—I was about to change clothes and felt too embarrassed to keep undressing, and you’re still here rambling on to me.”
Lao Ping pointed at her but couldn’t come up with anything to say. Then he waved his hand and walked toward the door.
After changing clothes, she met Zang Xipu at the coffee shop on the hotel’s second floor. The air was filled with the subtle fragrance of coffee beans.
Lao Ping said the Blue Mountain coffee here was indeed more authentic than elsewhere, but after drinking half a cup, Long Qi couldn’t taste any difference. She laughed coldly, saying, “Don’t pretend to know what you don’t—” But she only got to the word “don’t” before “pretend to know” could leave her mouth. Lao Ping violently knocked her knee under the table. She propped her forehead and gave Lao Ping the middle finger under the table. Zang Xipu, sitting across from them, smiled.
He said, “Are you willing to do the shoot, Long Qi?”
The previous topic had been discussing Frago’s shooting schedule.
Zang Xipu’s tone carried absolutely no hint of “I’m giving you this opportunity, you should thank me.” Instead, there was an underlying meaning of “if you’re not willing, we won’t shoot—being happy is best.” He leaned back in his chair, both hands casually in his pants pockets. Under his rolled-up sleeves, his prominent tattoo sleeve was visible. Long Qi propped her cheek. Lao Ping stared at her.
“I’m willing. It’s an honor,” she also leaned back in her chair and said.
“That’s good.”
Zang Xipu responded.
That day, the second piece of news she received was that Wu Jiakui had been officially nominated for the domestic “Asia-America Award” Best Actress candidate list, based on her performance in an art-house road movie from last year.
The “Asia-America Award,” as the most authoritative domestic film award, contained no water whatsoever. The day this news reached the crew, during a break, the director opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate Wu Jiakui in advance. This day was also when Wu Jiakui’s final scene was to be shot. While the makeup artist was covering the teeth marks on Long Qi’s shoulder, Wu Jiakui sat next door, openly instructing her assistant to buy plane tickets to London.
Long Qi closed her script with a loud snap—louder than the pitter-patter of rain on the canopy roof. The busy people around them paused for half a second, stole a few glances at her, then continued with their tasks. She sat under the rain canopy with her legs crossed, her knees and shoulders covered with an overcoat. Wu Jiakui sat next to her, similarly wrapped in an overcoat, propping her forehead, smiling as she gave instructions to her assistant.
In front of the rain canopy, the props team was setting up the scene. This scene was Wu Jiakui’s major crying scene in the rain. After filming this, she would wrap.
Meanwhile, Long Qi still had to work continuously for another half month before she could wrap.
When Wu Jiakui performed this scene, she watched too. The person who had been all smiles a moment ago completely transformed once the scene began. From shallow sorrow to deep resentment, from reddening eyes to tears falling, from suppressed trembling to anguished screaming—Wu Jiakui was born to be an actress, performing with consummate skill. After the director called cut, the entire venue applauded again. Wu Jiakui’s aunt personally came forward to wrap her in a coat. Wu Jiakui’s eyes were still red, but her emotions shifted quickly. She smiled and bowed in thanks to the surrounding crew members. Lao Ping stood nearby with his arms crossed, gesturing with his mouth, glancing at Long Qi.
Telling her to study this future greatest competitor carefully.
Later, he had another heart-to-heart talk with her, asking if she was prepared to bear the upcoming workload. The shooting schedule with Zang Xipu had been set, and a women’s luxury brand endorsement deal that had been in negotiation had also been confirmed for the same period. If Long Qi accepted this endorsement, as soon as she finished the crew work, she would have to fly to Hawaii to shoot this brand’s spring-summer season advertisement. If she didn’t accept, she could have half a month’s vacation.
Lao Ping knew what half a month’s vacation meant to her.
At that time, she sat in a lounge chair, knees bent, nestled in a thick air-conditioned blanket. Her finger swiped across the phone screen, then swiped again, refreshing flight information from here to London. Lao Ping moved a chair to sit in front of her, studying her.
In her mind, that sentence Jin Yiken had said—”It won’t be that easy”—cycled repeatedly.
She was also disturbed by Dou Junyun’s almost face-tearing remark.
Her head leaned against the chair back. The phone slowly rotated in her palm. Every time she silently recited the three words “Jin Yiken” in her heart, her chest would lurch—like reaching the top of a roller coaster and then plummeting rapidly. Until the phone went black in her hand, after five minutes of silence, she finally took a breath and looked at Lao Ping.
……
“I’ll take the endorsement.”