When Rong Qian opened her eyes, she was still in pain all over.

She actually half-suspected the truck had aimed for her deliberately — why else would anyone floor the accelerator like that? The impact had been violent enough that she felt as if all four of her limbs had been knocked loose from their joints.

This really wasn’t something to take lightly. If she had miscalculated, she would spend the rest of her life bedridden.

Rong Qian winced, pushed herself up off the ground, and looked around. The room she found herself in looked like a hotel suite. From the bathroom nearby came the sound of running water — clearly someone was inside, showering.

She paused.

Could that be Shen Yi taking a shower?

A faint, involuntary amusement rose in her. She had no idea whether his expression when he came out and saw her would be surprised delight or sheer alarm.

Thinking that this must be Shen Yi’s room, Rong Qian felt herself relax. She did a brief sweep of the space — on the bedside table sat a film script, and on the bed lay a suit in its garment bag, a vivid and striking scarlet red.

She genuinely could not picture what Shen Yi would look like wearing something that audaciously red.

Just then, the bathroom door swung open.

Rong Qian’s face broke into a smile. She turned her head, already opening her mouth to call out to Shen Yi — and found herself looking at a completely unfamiliar man, towelling his damp hair, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel around his waist.

The smile froze on Rong Qian’s face.

What was this? He wasn’t Shen Yi? Which meant — she had the wrong room?

Ke Wenguang hadn’t noticed at first, lazily drying his hair without a care in the world. Then, in the course of casually glancing up, he spotted Rong Qian standing by his bed — and stumbled backwards in shock.

Ke Wenguang instinctively clutched his chest with both hands, eyes bulging. “You — you — who are you? How — how did you get into my room?”

“Who are you?” The words tumbled out of Rong Qian on reflex.

Ke Wenguang looked horrified. “You have the nerve to ask me who I am? How on earth did you get in here?”

“Oh — I must have taken the wrong room. Sorry about that. I’ll leave now.” Rong Qian was equally embarrassed. Now that she knew it was a mistake, all she wanted was to escape this mortifying scene as quickly as possible.

“Don’t you move!” Ke Wenguang stopped her. “You’re not going anywhere until you explain yourself.”

He checked the door and windows — the door was still locked, the security chain still in place. Even if this woman had a keycard, she still shouldn’t have been able to get in. This made no sense.

“How — just how did you get in here?” Ke Wenguang blocked the doorway, his voice sharp with agitation.

Rong Qian was stumped and had no idea how to answer.

“I know — you’re a reporter!” Ke Wenguang suddenly had a flash of understanding. His temper flared. “What is wrong with you journalists? You’d break into someone’s hotel room for an interview?”

A reporter? Rong Qian looked herself over — white casual T-shirt, jeans, a high ponytail, a bag over her shoulder. She could, admittedly, pass for a reporter heading out on assignment.

Since he’d gone there himself, Rong Qian decided to go along with it. “All right, fine — I’ll admit it. I’m a reporter.”

“For the love of — I despise reporters more than anything in this world. You’ve fallen into my hands today, and you are not walking out of here in one piece.” Ke Wenguang was furious. He stormed forward and grabbed Rong Qian roughly by the wrist, trying to drag her into the bathroom and lock her in.

Rong Qian offered him a friendly word of caution: “Mate, I’d really advise you not to put your hands on me. It won’t end well for you.”

“A measly reporter and you think you’re untouchable? Let me tell you — you are not getting away. When I call the police and they show up, I’d love to see how you explain yourself.” Ke Wenguang was all bluster, leaning on the advantage of being a tall and solidly built man to yank Rong Qian bodily toward the bathroom.

Rong Qian gradually ran out of patience. If claiming to be a reporter wasn’t going to work, there was only one option left — to settle this physically.

Two minutes later.

Rong Qian sat cross-legged on the bed, panting lightly from the exertion, and said with a resigned sigh, “I already told you — this was a misunderstanding. Why won’t you just believe me?”

“Did I say I didn’t believe you?”

Ke Wenguang was sitting on the floor, nose battered and face bruised. With a pitiful, aggrieved expression, he tore off a strip of tissue, twisted it into a makeshift plug, and stuffed it up his nostril to stop the bleeding — then quietly wiped away a tear.

Rong Qian said apologetically: “Sorry — I may have been just the tiniest bit too heavy-handed.”

“Just a tiny bit, you reckon?” Ke Wenguang looked like he might cry. He made his living off his face — how was he supposed to show himself in public like this?

Rong Qian did feel genuinely bad, but he had been the first to use force — she hadn’t had a choice. “Who told you not to let me finish what I was saying? Isn’t sitting down together and talking much better?”

“Who on earth are you?” Ke Wenguang had given up fighting.

Rather than answering, Rong Qian turned the question around: “Do you know Wei Long?”

“Wei Long?” Ke Wenguang paused. His expression shifted into something peculiar. “Don’t tell me you came here looking for Wei Long.”

“Yes, I’m looking for him. Do you know him?” Hope rose in Rong Qian, and she leaned forward expectantly.

Ke Wenguang frowned. “So you’re a fan of his. You came here to find him and ended up in my room by mistake?”

“More or less.” Rong Qian couldn’t explain, so she just went along with it.

Ke Wenguang let out a cold laugh. “Another die-hard fan of Wei Long’s. I’ll never understand what’s so great about him — that you’d all go this far to chase after him.”

“What’s wrong with my Shen Yi?” Rong Qian said it without thinking, defending Shen Yi before she’d even registered she was doing it — which, in the process, essentially confirmed her status as a “die-hard fan” beyond any further doubt.

Ke Wenguang rolled his eyes. He said with contempt: “He’s only fit to deceive naive little girls like you. All gentle and modest on the surface — inside, that man’s the darkest thing going. Every time I get near him, my whole body crawls. I can’t stand it.”

“Are you sure it’s not that you’re afraid of him?” Rong Qian raised an eyebrow.

Ke Wenguang went still. Afraid of him? Ridiculous. What was there to be afraid of in that man? He simply didn’t like being around him — that was all. It had nothing to do with fear.

Rong Qian had no interest in listening to his protests. Since he clearly knew Shen Yi, she cut straight to it: “Is Wei Long staying in this hotel? Which room? Tell me and I’ll go find him.”

“He’s not!” Ke Wenguang snapped irritably. “His scenes finished shooting — he checked out of the hotel yesterday. And as luck would have it, the room I’m staying in is the very one he vacated.”

So close? Rong Qian looked around the room. Shen Yi had left just yesterday — and she had arrived one step too late.