The day came for Nan Chu’s audition, though it had already been pushed back a few days due to schedule conflicts.

Over the preceding days she’d been working through the script — the trademark He Zhengping style, an entirely authentic story set in the old city lanes, exploring the flotsam of an era, the cultural remnants of people left behind. Take the third female role: Liu Yingying, the cheongsam woman. In the depths of a hutong alley, she ran a small shop of not even twenty square meters, making things entirely by hand with exquisite precision — quite a few wealthy socialites sought her out to have their cheongsams made. This was craftsmanship as living culture.

Liu Yingying was also a woman of chivalric spirit and principle. In her early thirties, delicate in appearance, with a figure that was striking in its curves. Many men coveted her beauty — yet she remained in this place, waiting for someone who would never return. A tragic, righteous character at heart.

The moment he’d seen this script, Shen Guanzong had said this role was made for Nan Chu — just from the description on the page, the image of Nan Chu in a cheongsam had leaped immediately and vividly into his mind. That was the look — a beautiful woman in light powder and blush — exactly as the book described her. Whatever one thought of Jiang Ge as a person, reckless as he was, when he’d been having dinner with He Zhengping a while back and heard him mention the script, He Zhengping had been frowning over one thing: “I can’t settle on a person for one of the roles.”

Jiang Ge had asked casually: “Is it important? If it’s not, just fill the slot.”

He Zhengping was the tenacious type — he’d sooner abandon the whole script than accept the wrong person for the part. “I want someone who looks good in a cheongsam and can carry the spirit of it. She needs to be alluring — but not obviously so. Understated. Untouched by the world. The ones I’ve seen so far are either too overt about it or too flat-figured to fill it out properly.”

Jiang Ge raised an eyebrow. “She’s female third — your standards are this high?”

He Zhengping: “There’s no real female first or female third — the parts are all roughly equal. Whoever the audience takes to, that’s the real female lead. The character who draws them in, she becomes female first. If you have a good recommendation, keep me in mind.”

Something flashed in Jiang Ge’s mind at that. He couldn’t quite say why, but the image of that girl suddenly surfaced. He thought she’d probably look good in a cheongsam. So he said: “As a matter of fact, I have one — but her reputation isn’t in great shape. You’ll want to think it over carefully before using her.”

He Zhengping’s eyes lit up. “I only care about the performance. If she can play this role well, I don’t care about any of that.”

And so it was settled.

Wearing a cheongsam was one of the audition conditions.

Before Nan Chu left the apartment, Shen Guanzong brought in a cheongsam for her to change into.

A dark teal cheongsam. It closed with a clasp at the collarbone, a half-mandarin collar circling her slim, pale neck; the neckline was delicate, the chest full and rounded. High slits. Her legs were long and straight, proportioned perfectly. A fine teal trim ran along the split hem, making her complexion appear even paler and more luminous.

The embroidery on the cheongsam’s skirt was a butterfly poised in flight, wings spread mid-flutter, and the whole effect gave her a quality of lightness — graceful, unhurried, unadorned. Her features were soft, her eyes subtly hooked at the outer corners. Alluring and radiant all at once.

Even Shen Guanzong stared for a moment, circling her once, twice: “You are Liu Yingying. Liu Yingying!”

Nan Chu rolled her eyes.

Shen Guanzong stroked his chin. “Get into the character. Get into it — this role is absolutely yours.”

Whether the role was hers or not, when she walked into the audition room, the exhausted, jaded production staff all looked up with fresh attention. This girl had life and vitality — something genuine about her. They turned with eager eyes toward He Zhengping.

He Zhengping and Jiang Ge sat side by side behind the camera. He Zhengping glanced at Jiang Ge in mild surprise. Jiang Ge raised a brow slightly. “Acceptable?”

He Zhengping considered for a moment. “She’s more than acceptable — she’s just a bit young…”

Then he reached over and picked up an oilpaper umbrella from beside him, tossed it across. “Part A, three sections. Let’s see what you can do.”

Nan Chu opened the umbrella and stepped forward before the dark backdrop.

One yellow oilpaper umbrella. Against the black curtain, a woman in full cheongsam attire — a small neat bun, loose strands of hair at her temples. Pale light moved across her skin inch by inch. Her figure was supple and graceful, her posture elegant. Ivory skin encased in the dark teal cheongsam. Below the hem, black heels made the tops of her feet look even brighter, even whiter — a few tendons raised delicately, and her feet were slender and refined.

Every movement: fine and captivating, full of a lingering, rounded charm.

……

With the role decided, He Zhengping had put a long-standing worry to rest. He shook Jiang Ge’s hand with a grin. “You really do have a good eye, you little devil.”

Jiang Ge straightened his collar, letting his gaze drift toward the exit. “Well then — how about dinner, my treat?”

He Zhengping: “Invite that little girl along — we’ll all eat together tonight.”

“Deal.”

It was He Zhengping’s gathering in name, but in reality it was Jiang Ge’s. Nan Chu hadn’t even made it out of the building before Jiang Ge’s assistant caught up to her: “Miss Nan, Director He is inviting you all to dinner tonight.”

Even Director He had spoken — so she was, in this way, detained.

Dinner was booked at the five-star hotel across the street — one belonging to the Jiang family.

Not a large group: a few directors, producers, investors, and Jiang Ge.

As the car pulled in, she saw a banner hanging at the hotel entrance — Fire Prevention Architecture and Structural Safety Symposium. And at a glance across the car park, it was already nearly full. From the car, Nan Chu spotted several black military license plates and felt an inexplicable lift in her spirits.

She stepped out of the car and followed the group of men inside.

The hotel manager was at the door the moment they arrived, bowing slightly toward Jiang Ge: “Young master.”

Jiang Ge raised a brow and lifted his chin: “There’s a meeting going on inside?”

The manager answered with great attentiveness: “Yes — a symposium, a few leaders from the fire department and some building specialists. There are only two private rooms left; I’ve put you next to them. Chief Meng is here as well — you might like to pop in and say hello when you have a chance.”

Jiang Ge gave a slight nod. “Understood.”

The hotel’s top-tier private rooms were only three in total — one set apart on its own, two positioned side by side. They had to be reserved far in advance, and unless Jiang Ge himself was hosting, they weren’t typically made available. The two adjoining rooms shared a connecting door between them.

Their party had barely sat down when the sound of footsteps filtered in from the stairwell — a whole group coming down from upstairs, the symposium apparently concluded, accompanied by laughter and the noise of good cheer.

“I’ve always known you’d go far — how about it, you’re coming up on thirty now, yes? Still no one caught your eye?” That voice was followed by laughter around it, then continued: “Well, I seem to recall our Aide Xu is also unattached? So — what do you say, Luxiao? Speak up. The uncles are all here — don’t be shy about it.”

Then Nan Chu heard a clear, unhurried voice, distinctly casual in its ease: “Please — I’m begging you, sir, spare me. Isn’t Da Liu also single? Don’t tell me you failed to convince Da Liu and came to take it out on me? That would be unfair to Aide Xu.”

Laughter broke out. “Da Liu just can’t find anyone — I don’t believe you can’t. Trust me, Luxiao, with a face like yours, there’s no shortage of girls waiting in line. Find someone soon and settle down — don’t have your father losing sleep over it.”

Then the figures passed the doorway to their private room.

Nan Chu caught sight of the tall figure at once. Military olive uniform, military cap, both hands tucked into his jacket pockets, back straight as a rod — he passed right in front of her, unhurried, and then disappeared into the private room next door.

She counted it up. Since leaving the barracks, the two of them had gone four or five days without any contact.

Nan Chu hadn’t called him. Lin Luxiao hadn’t called her either. It was a bit like a silent standoff — seeing who would crack first.

Jiang Ge pulled a chair over to sit beside Nan Chu, tilted his head at her with a smile, and gave a little crook of his brow. “Hey there.”

Infuriating expression. Nan Chu wanted to poke a pair of chopsticks into his eyes. Shen Guanzong beside her shot her a frantic look — hold it together — so she merely flicked her gaze up, her voice cool: “Young master Jiang.”

“You have no idea how to show gratitude.” Jiang Ge clicked his tongue. “I did get you this role, you know.”

Nan Chu looked at him for a moment, gave a brief nod, then fairly cheerfully picked up a bottle of beer, poured it full, and raised it toward him. “To you.”

And knocked it back in one go.

The whole table erupted in applause. What spirit!

Even He Zhengping looked over twice — clearly this was Jiang Ge’s second young master’s soft spot.

……

The atmosphere next door was considerably more reserved. Everyone present was leadership from the department — toasts all around, and the conversation had circled back to the two junior figures at the table.

“How did Luxiao do on his exam?”

Meng Guohong gave a quiet sound of satisfaction. “He did fine. First in the department.”

The pride in his voice was exactly that of a father speaking of his own son.

“Excellent! Didn’t quit the race this time — the interview’s a sure thing.”

Meng Guohong glanced over at Lin Luxiao beside him. “Only if this boy doesn’t go slacking off.”

“Don’t worry — Luxiao has always been reliable, far more than my Da Liu. Said military academy, went to military academy. Not like my Da Liu, still grinding away trying to pass the civil service exam.”

The topic said, all eyes turned to the man in question — who appeared entirely removed from the proceedings, as though the conversation had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

Beside him, Xu Ya quietly clenched the fist resting on her knee.

This person had always been this way — acting as if nothing in the world could touch him. Enough to make one grind one’s teeth in frustration.

Division Chief Liu shifted the conversation toward Xu Ya. “Can’t leave our female colleagues out — young Xu, are you seeing anyone?”

Xu Ya came back to herself, bit her lip gently. “Not thinking about it for now.”

Division Chief Liu chuckled. “You young people really aren’t in any hurry. So — what do you think of this young man here?” He clapped Lin Luxiao on the shoulder.

Lin Luxiao’s brow drew slightly inward.

Xu Ya glanced at him, her words carrying an undertone: “He’s quite good — but Commander Lin has high standards. I’m not in his range.”

Meng Guohong heard that and the irritation flared up immediately. “Hmph! That’s his own blindness!”

Lin Luxiao had shown no emotion to begin with — but at those words, even his edges took on a faint chill.

The air went stiff.

Someone entered from outside. The political officer had finished ordering and returned, leaning toward Meng Guohong to say something quietly in his ear.

Meng Guohong gave a nod.

The political officer crossed the room and slid open the dividing door between the two private rooms.

The laughter and voices from next door poured in all at once. In the sudden flood of light, a full table of people came into view across the way.

Meng Guohong raised his glass toward that side. “Young master Jiang.”

Lin Luxiao glanced over without thinking. His eye twitched.

Jiang Ge was draped in his chair, one hand resting lazily across the back of Nan Chu’s chair, eyes soft with amusement, watching the girl beside him.

And that infuriating girl.

She was in a dark teal cheongsam, legs crossed, the fabric spread across her thighs — one panel of teal draped over the chair, one panel covering her legs, leaving only the outer curve of her thigh exposed: snow-white and smooth, perfectly proportioned.

And above that — a view that required no further description.

Jiang Ge leaned toward Nan Chu’s ear and murmured something. She glanced in Lin Luxiao’s direction, her gaze resting briefly on his face, then slid away, expression utterly calm. “I’m not going over.”

Lin Luxiao’s expression had already visibly darkened. She wasn’t walking into that.

Jiang Ge gave a small laugh, stood on his own, and went over with his glass to exchange pleasantries.

……

Nan Chu came out of the restroom, dried her hands, and had just shut the door behind her when someone’s arm came around her waist and she was pushed directly back inside.

Nan Chu was pressed up against the door.

She heard the sharp click of a lock behind her. Her heart gave a sharp, thrilled lurch.

The bathroom light was faint — amber, narrow. A single-person stall. Against her ear came the low, soft sound of a man’s breathing.

Nan Chu looked up.

He was braced against the door, looking down at her, brows and eyes carrying a smile — and a buried trace of irritation. The line of his pressed lips conveyed helpless exasperation.

At this angle.

Very suitable for kissing. Mm.

The girl tilted her face up, her hands instinctively reaching to hook around his neck, her fingers slipping into the dark hair at his nape, lightly tracing— “Com—”

Her lips were sealed shut in an instant.

Lin Luxiao dropped his head abruptly and bit her lip — not a trace of mercy, biting down hard.

Nan Chu made a pained, muffled protest and swatted at him. He pressed in more forcefully to stifle it, deepening, his tongue pushing past her lips and sweeping inside. Nan Chu couldn’t catch her breath — she softened after just two beats of the kiss, her hands gripping tight around his neck to keep herself from sliding down.

This was an urgent, demanding kiss. Even as her mind began to blur, she was still thinking — how much must someone like you to kiss you this fiercely.

Lin Luxiao kissed to his fill, then moved to her neck, his lips tracing to her ear, hot breath spilling across her skin.

“Did you miss me?”

Nan Chu kissed him back. “Didn’t miss—”

Lin Luxiao stopped. He straightened up, and the distance between them opened in an instant. He smiled wickedly, looking down at her. “I’ll give you one more chance. Did you miss me?”

Nan Chu blinked. She lowered her hands. “I did.”

Lin Luxiao nodded, tucked his hands back into his pockets, raised a brow. “Then why didn’t you call?”

“I was waiting for you to call me.”

The little girl’s voice was as aggrieved as could be.

Four or five days without contact, and then a reunion like the one just now — Lin Luxiao felt he might as well have peeled his own heart open for her right there. But hearing this, he let out a long sigh. Nearly thirty years old — how was he still acting like some hotheaded young man? How was it that the moment he fell for someone, all his patience seemed to overflow its banks?

He reached out and ruffled Nan Chu’s hair, let out a breath. “I’ll come find you in a few days. Wait at home for me. Be good.”

“Are you going on leave soon?”

“Three days. Think of somewhere you’d like to go.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Lin Luxiao looked at her with a smile. “How about watching the flag-raising at Tiananmen?”

The words had barely left his mouth when the sound of footsteps rustled outside the door.

“This door is locked.”

It was Xu Ya.