The typhoon had left the island.

When Zang Xipu took her to Lao Ping’s place, the videos online had already been deleted. Perhaps some behind-the-scenes negotiations had yielded results, or perhaps it was some other operation—Long Qi didn’t know.

She was currently in a state of shutting out everything around her. Lao Ping had booked return flight tickets and was anxiously looking for her, so Zang Xipu took her directly to the airport. They didn’t talk much along the way. Only when getting out of the car did he suddenly grip her hand. Long Qi’s body was halfway out of the vehicle when she turned back to look at him.

“About Wu’er’s script—if you’re interested, contact me,” he said. “What I said to you this morning, I imagine you’re in no mood to consider right now, but Long Qi, there’s one thing you need to know.”

“Whether a person lives well or poorly is defined by themselves, not by others. Whatever you were like before, you can continue living that way. If anything comes up, just call me.”

…

After two seconds of silence, she spoke. “Teacher Zang, when was the first time you saw me?”

“Last December, at the opening ceremony.”

Gently withdrawing her hand from his palm, she slowly brushed her hair back. “In high school, to earn living expenses, I did quite a few commercial events paid by the hour. I was short on money then and would run to any event. One of them was a car show—standing from morning to night without eating all day. Just before getting off work, some sleazy boss groped me. I keyed his car.”

“There were quite a few reporters at that car show. If I’d really made a scene, he wouldn’t have been in the right either. But the reporters weren’t there for me—they were there for a big-name spokesperson. The organizers were afraid such a small matter would disturb the order and upset the celebrity team, so they fired me. They didn’t pay me either. The key point is they didn’t pay me. I thought, why should this be? But the security wouldn’t let me argue my case. You were disturbed by my commotion then, and you even looked at me once.”

Hearing this, Zang Xipu looked at her.

Long Qi also looked at him. “That big name was you, Teacher Zang. That was the first time we actually met. You saw what I was like before. You didn’t look at me a second time then.”

Before Zang Xipu could respond, she lowered her forehead slightly. “Until we meet again, Teacher Zang.”

The car door closed with a click. She turned and walked toward the elevator entrance, walking quite fast without looking back. From beginning to end, Zang Xipu sat quietly in the driver’s seat watching her, seeing her off into the elevator.

The airplane took off with a roar.

During the three-hour flight, Lao Ping chattered incessantly about her upcoming schedule. He always knew her temperament—the more frustrated she was romantically, the more he needed to fill her up with business matters. He absolutely couldn’t let her process things; once she processed them, she’d become depressed again. So he acted as if nothing had happened, speaking as rapidly as bullets. He said there were two variety shows to finalize, one movie and one TV series requiring auditions, plus two fashion shows and one commercial to shoot. After listening for a while, she asked flatly, “How long has it been since I went to school?”

Lao Ping looked at her, using his eyes to ask what she meant. Getting no reply, he asked, “Tired? Should we push back the TV series audition? But the others can’t be postponed.”

“Keep an eye on the timing. I need to prepare for exams in June.”

The words came to her lips, and she spoke them.

Lao Ping nodded.

After landing, the number of reporters and fans there to meet her was considerable. She walked through the crowd without answering a single question amid the clamor. Afterward, Lao Ping planned to take her back to Yiming Bay, but she pointed in another direction. Forty-some minutes later, the car stopped in front of a residential complex. Lao Ping asked where this was. She said, “See you.”

Then got out of the car.

It was five in the afternoon, just when school let out. The complex smelled of cooking food. In the fitness area in the center of the green belt, children were playing and running around. At sunset, in the slanting rays, Long Ziyi’s twin sons were fighting by the sand slide. Long Qi walked closer with her hands in her pockets, watching. Long Ziyi herself was leaning against the nearby fitness equipment on the phone, talking quite animatedly, her right hand gesturing in the air stroke by stroke. After talking for a while, listening to the response on the other end, she silently brushed her hair back. Then the younger of the twins made the older one cry. The chubby kid plopped down on the ground and wailed loudly. Only then did Long Ziyi turn her head, and at the same time, met her gaze.

…

“Why did you come here?”

“Don’t you come here every Tuesday and Thursday?”

Today was Thursday.

Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened silently. The two chubby kids rushed out headfirst, still making a fuss, trading blows—you hit me once, I hit you back. They ran to the apartment door and pounded on it forcefully. Long Ziyi walked ahead, fishing out her keys. Long Qi followed slowly behind.

“Did you fight with Xinyi again? So, who won this time?”

“I moved out in my senior year of high school.”

The key inserted into the lock. “Oh, how much is the rent? Is it enough?”

“The place I lived before was three thousand a month. The place I live now belongs to a friend, fifty thousand a month.”

“What kind of place is that?”

“Yiming Bay.” Long Qi’s shoulder leaned against the door. “A three-to-four-hundred-square-meter apartment, discounted price.”

“Oh.” She continued turning the key. “Why live in that area?”

Long Qi didn’t answer.

The door opened with a click. The two chubby kids slipped inside. Long Ziyi shouted, “Change your shoes!”

Then she placed the keys on top of the shoe cabinet, found new slippers at the very bottom, and put them at the entrance. “You wear these.”

As she changed shoes, Long Ziyi shouted into the inner room, “Zimu, we’re back!”

“Do you usually bring them both here too?” Long Qi asked.

“Yes, they’re living with me here now.”

“What about your husband?”

“Processing the divorce. The original house goes to him.”

As the words fell, the study door in the inner room opened with a click. Long Ziyi’s partner, Lu Zimu, walked out leisurely carrying half a pot of tea, wearing a cotton-linen striped loungewear set and flip-flops, scratching his head with slightly messy hair. Seeing her at the entrance, he froze.

“My daughter, she’s here for dinner. Let’s not go out to eat. Just order takeout from that three-yellow chicken place.” Long Ziyi arranged everything, then turned back to confirm, “You’re just eating dinner, right?”

“I also want to sleep for a few days.”

Long Ziyi looked at her for a few moments, then looked at Lu Zimu.

“Oh.” Lu Zimu’s reaction wasn’t slow. “Then I, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“What are you here for?” Long Ziyi turned back and asked Long Qi.

Half an hour later, the three-yellow chicken takeout Long Ziyi ordered arrived. The two twins sat in front of the living room sofa watching shows while eating, chewing so enthusiastically that the soy sauce fragrance overflowed. Long Qi sat at the dining table, her right hand gripping a beer can, the bottom slowly tracing circles on the table surface. Long Ziyi propped her forehead on her hand at the opposite side, brushing her hair. Lu Zimu was eating chicken.

“So you still haven’t figured out whether this time you two had a fight or completely broke up?”

“It’s more than just that.”

“Do you want to contact him?”

She didn’t answer, looking blandly at Long Ziyi. Long Ziyi asked again, “Is that ultrasound report online real or fake?”

“Fake.”

“Then what about the real one?”

“There is no real one.”

“Don’t lie to me, Long Qi. If there really was such a thing and you don’t contact him, I’ll dig three feet underground to drag him out and get an explanation from him for this old lady.”

“There really isn’t.”

After a moment of silence, she asked again, “Was the first time with him?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“That’s normal for her age.” Lu Zimu put a chicken leg in her bowl, casually interjecting in a breezy tone. “No earlier than you.”

Long Ziyi ignored him. “Did you usually take precautions?”

…

Without sighing, but resembling a sigh, Long Qi leaned back against the chair. Lu Zimu shushed Long Ziyi. Long Ziyi’s chopsticks tapped the table surface. “Birth control pills, whether short-term or long-term, affect hormones. You must use condoms. Any man who makes you take pills more than once a year—dump him. No negotiation.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Good that he’s not. Do you have photos?”

“They’re online.” Lu Zimu held up his phone. Long Ziyi turned her head to glance at it, looked for three seconds, withdrew her gaze, and looked at Long Qi.

“Not bad looking, pretty good. How tall is he?”

“186 centimeters. Are you done asking?”

“His appearance attracts girls, your appearance attracts boys. You’re both young, mutually causing each other trouble—that works.” Long Ziyi finally began to pick up her rice bowl, using chopsticks to push a mouthful of rice into her mouth. After chewing, she continued, “The point you two were arguing about wasn’t on the same wavelength. One absolutely had to seek the truth, the other absolutely had to see the attitude. Fundamentally, you’re both selfish. But the person braved a typhoon and crouched under your hotel for an entire night. With outsiders present on the scene, you still indulged in momentary satisfaction to provoke him. Put yourself in his shoes—wouldn’t you be upset?”

“So am I really quite impulsive?”

“It’s not that you’re impulsive—you’re both impulsive. You were impulsive in speaking rashly in the moment, but he was impulsive in equating the truth with breaking up. If you said you’d listen, he’d split up with you. If you said you wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t that make it obvious there was something fishy going on? He’d feel satisfied, but you’d have doubts in your heart. No way this relationship could be good.”

…

“Your mom and I fight every day,” Lu Zimu added a sentence.

“Love doesn’t distinguish right from wrong, daughter. Love is quite unreasonable. Some fights get better after one meal. Some fights never get better for a lifetime. In the end, you both remember what the other looked like saying harsh words, but if you really had to recall what harsh words were said,” Long Ziyi waved her hand, “impossible—no one remembers. It’s just one breath stuck there. Childish to death.”

“Sometimes when the argument gets too heated and you can’t get past that breath, just think—are you willing to spend this lifetime with someone else?” Lu Zimu said.

One person, one sentence, like rapid-fire cannons. She recalled Jin Yiken saying “you still dare to marry anyone other than me.” In this instant, she really did consider the image of spending her life with someone other than him. Twirling bad edamame between two fingers, Long Ziyi instructed Lu Zimu, “Search for more photos. This kid really is good-looking.”

“His mother must be good-looking.”

“Why, have you seen her?”

“Daughters follow their fathers, sons follow their mothers.”

“Wow, not bad—you can even look at beauties based on someone’s son’s face.”

“Ah, I need to go back and write the ending. The editor-in-chief is pressing hard.”

She stood up. Long Ziyi pointed a chicken leg at her. “You come back here. How many words can you squeeze out in an hour? How much is that pathetic manuscript fee worth? Lu Zimu!”

“Cultivating inspiration.”

She closed the study door behind her.

“Cheapskate,” Long Ziyi cursed.

The two twins on the sofa laughed, pointing at each other and parroting, “Cheapskate.”

“Can you show some restraint,” Long Qi spoke softly. “Isn’t it enough that you raised me this way? Look at what your two sons have become.”

Long Ziyi’s chopsticks struck the table loudly as she glared at the twins. After they quieted down, she replied, “Yes, their father thinks the same way. He wants to take me to court.”

After these words, Long Qi didn’t respond. Long Ziyi got up to clear the dishes and didn’t speak further.

She stayed at Lu Zimu’s place for the next few days.

Originally, Long Ziyi and she were to sleep in the master bedroom, the twins in the guest bedroom, and Lu Zimu on the living room sofa. But Long Qi said it wasn’t necessary—she’d sleep on the sofa. She needed to read scripts at night and the light would disturb people. Better for one person to sleep on the sofa. Afterward, they arranged it this way.

She knew that after that fight with Jin Yiken, he wouldn’t continue living at Yiming Bay, but she just wanted to stay here.

And the public opinion online also fermented to a certain degree. Unexpectedly, the source of fermentation didn’t come from her side but from Wu Jiakui.

Because the video was deleted so suddenly, a bunch of netizens who loved prying into people’s privacy were even more certain she had something to hide. Those watching the drama also formed a routine—Wu Jiakui’s Weibo was essential. True to her personality, she usually stayed aloof and uninvolved in trivial matters, but this time she actually replied to several netizen comments, quite a few replies too.

Comment 1: Still think you’re better. Long Qi, when you strip it all away, is just a low-quality, poorly-raised, third-rate model. Inside and out, all she has to show for herself is a face. Spread her legs and she gets roles to film, eat one meal and she gets shows to appear on. Everyone knows she’s the most promiscuous in the industry, yet she overshadows you everywhere. Too much.

Reply: What tier of person are you to dare make things up like this?

Comment 2: Kuikui, being straightforward is fine, but it’s best not to get involved in Long Qi’s matters. You won’t gain anything from either side.

Reply: I’m happy as long as I am.

Comment 3: Better watch yourself, Wu Jiakui. Artists who attack their fans never end well. You originally had sympathy votes, but now, great—birds of a feather. Just waiting for you and Long Qi to flop together to the bottom hahahaha, fan-attacking sister duo [spit]

Reply: If we don’t flop, you’re not allowed to die of old age.

…

Apparently, after that last wave of large-scale internal fan turmoil, she’d been holding in her anger. Now with the attention diverted by her and Jin Yiken’s matter, she was also being impulsive—attacking whoever came, attacking pairs when they came in twos. Collapsing personas and such didn’t matter—an attitude of “this is how I am, love being a fan or don’t.” The fight between Long Qi and Jin Yiken had exhausted all of Long Qi’s confidence and energy, but the fight between Wu Jiakui and Jin Yiken made her throw caution to the wind instead.

People really are different.

At night, when everyone was sound asleep, she wore a pair of glasses with a small desk lamp on, and began studying Wu’er’s script. As she read, she picked up a pen to underline, thoroughly digesting every scene, also concentrating questions about the plot in notes beside the paragraphs. Flipping page by page, scrutinizing line by line—the first week passed this way. By the second Friday, having finally finished studying the script, she called Lao Ping and asked him to contact Wu’er.

“…There’s a bit of a problem on Wu’er’s end. The film matter might have to be shelved for a while,” Lao Ping said.

“What kind of problem?”

“Not enough funding. The original investor pulled out.”

“…” After a moment of silence, she said, “Then it’s fine. I’ll just wait for her.”

Lao Ping paused.

“Actually, filming immediately is also possible. Wu’er has another ten million investment on hand that can come through anytime.”

Long Qi listened. Sure enough, Lao Ping said, “But that investment comes with a requirement for a pre-selected cast member.”

She said, “Hold on a moment.”

Hung up the phone.

Switched to the email page and checked the script she’d sent Jin Yiken a week ago from her sent mail. The status bar showed it had been read. She took a breath, emotions stable, then sent Lao Ping a message asking him to send Wu’er’s contact information.

Then she made a call to Wu’er. Wu’er answered. She said, “I’ve finished reading the script. Lao Ping also told me about your situation. To be honest, I’m really quite interested in the script. Would it be convenient for you to tell me who the new investor is? Who’s the pre-selected person? I want to fight for this again.”

“…”

During Wu’er’s two or three seconds of reaction time, Long Qi’s fingers tapped lightly on her knee. “If it’s not convenient for you to say, I’ll ask directly—is the other party surnamed Jin?”

“Um, yes.”

“Full name Jin Yiken?”

“Yes.”

“The pre-selected person is surnamed Wu, Wu Jiakui?”

“Actually no.” Wu’er corrected. “It’s not Wu Jiakui, it’s someone else.”

The fingers tapping on her knee silently stopped.

She asked, “Which one?”

“Surnamed Xu, Xu Yifen. She seems to also be an artist from Uncle Ping’s studio.”

…

After hanging up Wu’er’s call, she sat on the sofa, her hand holding the phone hanging by her knee. The slanting rays of sunset from the balcony slanted in—silent, soundless. In her mind, she recalled the scene from the last time she heard the surname “Xu.” That was an occasion Jin Yiken was also at—the island city, eleven at night. Six words “that little artist surnamed Xu” popped out of Fatty’s mouth with a hint of complaint, also involving Lao Ping’s unfair resource exchange methods, and Jin Yiken’s expression that seemed to hear but not hear.

That was someone Lao Ping had recently signed and was wholeheartedly promoting.

Jin Yiken really was supremely clever.

If it were someone else, Lao Ping would still be hers—he could fight for her. But it just happened to be Lao Ping’s own person. Sitting on the mountain watching tigers fight—he always played this game best.

He was also true to his word—said he’d destroy her and really started destroying her. Swift action without advance notice.

After sunset, she dialed on her phone, calling Lao Ping again. Lao Ping answered. She said, “About this Xu Yifen matter, I heard from Wu’er.”

“I was just about to tell you.” Lao Ping stated his position. “I asked about it the day I found out. Yifen has never had contact with that big ancestor. The girl is as baffled as I am. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange a time for you two to talk. As long as she doesn’t sign the contract, they can’t force her to act. Everything after that will be easy to handle—slowly negotiate, slowly wear them down.”

“Let’s meet today,” she replied. “I’m free.”

The agreed location was a coffee shop near Lao Ping’s company. At seven in the evening, in a corner without many people, pine incense burning, she wore framed glasses without makeup, leaning against the chair back looking at her phone. Lao Ping arrived early, sitting beside her, getting straight to the point. “What are you two ancestors up to now?”

Long Qi didn’t answer. She was searching Xu Yifen’s information on Baidu.

Although this girl belonged to the same Lao Ping studio as her, they hadn’t met many times. She vaguely remembered her as quite an artsy girl who didn’t talk much, loved writing little articles, had taken quite a few film photo shoots. Though gentle and quiet, she also had her own set of ideas. Her looks belonged to the type that wasn’t beautiful but very comfortable, quite like Japanese healing-type actresses. The opportunity for Lao Ping to discover her was also because of this—he said he already had Long Qi as such an extremely outgoing, aggressive beauty under him, so Xu Yifen would be responsible for pulling inward. The two balanced each other out.

But this type like Xu Yifen needed time to build up. Currently, she was consuming the peripheral resources Long Qi left behind.

Ten minutes later, a car stopped at the coffee shop entrance. Xu Yifen got out. Her figure passed through the fence at the shop entrance. Long Qi glanced that way.

In less than half a minute, she reached the table, wearing a vintage-style dress with naturally curly long black hair. Her skin was quite fair, her lipstick quite red. Apart from that, no other makeup. She bowed toward Long Qi’s side, also bowed to Lao Ping. Her waist was particularly slim. Long Qi didn’t stand up. Lao Ping told her to sit.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Ping. I’m sorry…”

Her gaze turned to Long Qi. Lao Ping said, “Call her Qiqi.”

“I’m sorry, Qiqi, for being a bit late.”

Her voice was very soft.

“It’s fine.”

After Xu Yifen sat down, she smiled faintly at her again, then looked at Lao Ping. Clearly, she had a different mode of interaction with Lao Ping than with her—in her eyes was some respect and caution when facing elders, but at the same time, brightness and spirit. An interesting contradiction. Lao Ping said, “It’s like this, Yifen. There’s something now.”

“Yes.” She nodded, indicating she was listening.

“Qiqi here has a film that’s already set. She’s the female lead. But now this film suddenly changed investors. This investor has a bit of…” Lao Ping gestured with his hands a few times. “Has a bit of emotional entanglement with us. So the protagonist slot for this film randomly fell, and it fell on you. But Qiqi has already prepared for this film for quite a while, talked with the director, and gone through the script several times…”

The server came up to deliver the drink menu, interrupting Lao Ping’s speaking rhythm. Xu Yifen waved her hand. Long Qi said, “Have something to drink. Take your time chatting.”

“Okay…” So she said, “Earl Grey tea, thank you.”

The server collected the menu and returned to the front counter.

Attention returned. Lao Ping said, “So now we’re first having a chat with you, Yifen. What are your thoughts?”

“I’ve already understood the general situation a bit, Uncle Ping. You’re saying,” she summarized, “now there’s a film. The original lead was Qiqi. Now it’s me. And Qiqi wants to continue acting in this film.”

“Right.”

“Does the investor know me?”

“The investor should only know your name.”

She nodded slowly. “I see.”

“So?”

“But if I say I won’t act, can Qiqi get this role back? Will there be other candidates?”

“There might be, might not be. It depends on… depends on those two ancestors negotiating.”

“Ancestors?”

“That’s the investor.”

Xu Yifen looked at Long Qi again. Long Qi’s hands were in her pockets, always lazy, always quiet. Xu Yifen looked again at the notebook by her hand. “Is that the script?”

“Yes.”

“Uncle Ping,” she answered, “I roughly understand what you mean. Qiqi usually helps me quite a lot. I know how to handle this matter, but I’m quite curious about the film. I’d like to look at the script first. May I?”

“Take it home to read,” Lao Ping said.

Then they chatted about other casual matters, discussing what kind of statement should be prepared if she really refused to perform. Throughout the process, Xu Yifen responded quite readily, thought very carefully, and was always polite and proper toward Long Qi. Long Qi didn’t say much. After chatting for half an hour, Xu Yifen left early for another schedule, taking the script with her. Once she left the coffee shop, Lao Ping immediately addressed her, “Didn’t you say you two would chat? Why didn’t you speak? Where’s that brash attitude from before?”

“Someone criticized me for being too impulsive. Reflecting on life, decided to speak less and do more, to see how you clever people handle matters.”

“Who said you’re impulsive?”

“My mom.”

Lao Ping, who originally wanted to blurt out “listen to her bullshit,” held back the profanity after “her” and replied, “You are a bit impulsive usually, but don’t overcorrect either. People can’t even sort out their own days yet.”