The moment Wen Tingli entered the company, she saw the lobby crowded with colleagues, all busy discussing the company’s New Year gathering tomorrow.

This year’s gathering theme was somewhat unusual: “Weathering the Storm Together.”

Due to the fire on set, several of the company’s films were stalled in production, and rebuilding the set required a huge amount of capital.

For this reason, Liu Menglin had sent out invitations far and wide to social figures from all walks of life to attend the company’s gathering — nominally to thank patrons, but in truth, to swallow his pride and raise money for the company.

Given Liu Menglin’s good standing and influence in the film industry, plus the fact that several producers had invested heavily in Gold Films’ pictures, more than half of the invited celebrities agreed to attend tomorrow evening — the reason being none other than fear that Gold Films’ collapse would drag them down too.

With the company in decline, the staff couldn’t help but feel gloomy as well. As Wen Tingli walked in, some greeted her as usual: “Little Wen.”

But one or two colleagues showed a cold attitude toward her.

As she went upstairs, she heard someone whisper behind her: “How can she still smile like that — wasn’t that fire her fault to begin with?”

“How can you say that? She’s a victim too.”

“But before she came, the company was doing just fine, and the moment she arrived, the set got burned to the ground — if that’s not a jinx, what is.”

Another chimed in: “I heard she owed someone money outside and that’s why they set the fire in revenge — tsk tsk, who would have thought such a proper-looking young lady was actually this kind of person.”

Wen Tingli turned to refute the rumor, but forced herself to hold back — she still had a big problem to deal with ahead, and needed to save her strength to argue it out with Liu Menglin.

With this thought, she put her smile back on and continued upstairs. The two downstairs, seeing she was impervious to their jabs, felt it pointless and soon dispersed.

Wen Tingli arrived at Boss Liu’s office door and raised her hand to knock, when Huang Yuanshan appeared out of nowhere: “Where did you go last night, I looked everywhere and couldn’t find you!”

“I—” Wen Tingli, for once, found herself at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Huang Yuanshan had no patience to pry into her whereabouts last night, as she had more urgent matters to discuss: “Gao Xiaowen said you signed an advertising contract with the Ningbo Yan family — did you get the money?”

Wen Tingli shrugged: “The money… is gone.”

Huang Yuanshan didn’t quite register this at first.

Wen Tingli patiently explained: “That ad was fake from start to finish.”

“Fake?!” Huang Yuanshan was both shocked and furious. “I said, who shoots ads over New Year of all times — so what now? The arsonist still hasn’t been found, and Liu Menglin’s made up his mind to pin the whole blame on you. He says if you don’t sign the contract with the company within the next couple of days, he’ll release unfavorable news about you in the papers. I’ve been busy contacting friends in the legal circle for you.”

“But he clearly gave me the deadline as after New Year!”

“That’s his usual trick — first create a false sense that you still have time to sort things out, then catch you off guard when you least expect it. Think about it, once your film releases after New Year, how could he still have leverage over you?”

Wen Tingli remained utterly unafraid: “No matter what, I’m still just a victim! If he wants to sue, let him sue — I’m not afraid! I’ll go find Sister Yaqiao.”

But Liu Yaqiao wasn’t at the law office, so Wen Tingli had no choice but to head home first. The moment she walked in the door, the phone rang — it was Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen calling.

“Wen Tingli, that’s really not right of you! Something this big and you didn’t even tell us.”

Within the hour, the two of them came storming over, and Zhao Qingluo shoved a thick cloth-wrapped bundle into Wen Tingli’s hands.

“What is this?” Wen Tingli was taken aback.

“Money, of course. We heard it all from Sister Huang — Boss Liu has already sued you at the French Concession tribunal, and once a lawsuit starts, win or lose, it’s nothing but bad for you. This is what Yan Zhenzhen and I scraped together in a hurry, four thousand yuan total — don’t think it’s too little, we’ll figure out more together later, plenty of classmates will surely help.”

Wen Tingli’s eyes grew hot: “What are you two doing! Things haven’t gotten to that point yet — I won’t accept defeat.”

“Better to eat a small loss now than a big one later — film company bosses always have good relations with the papers, be careful he uses public opinion to ruin your reputation. Beauty of the Southern Land is about to release — you’ve got countless films ahead of you to make. For the sake of your future, the only way is to try to suppress this matter first.”

“But—”

Yan Zhenzhen, without waiting for an answer, stuffed the money wrapped in her handkerchief into Wen Tingli’s hands: “Or there’s one other way to settle this peacefully — sign the servitude contract with Boss Liu. Not that you’d agree to sign such an unequal contract, but Zhao Qingluo and I won’t just stand by and watch you jump into the fire pit either.”

Wen Tingli couldn’t bear to rebuff her good friends’ kindness any further, and also worried that things might change on Li Chengying’s end, so she let her friends accompany her to raise money.

That afternoon, they ran around everywhere; among the old classmates from Wushi Middle School, quite a few came from well-off families, but the friendships weren’t deep enough. After asking around a dozen or so classmates, they barely scraped together three thousand yuan — far from enough. In the end, Principal Zou, hearing Wen Tingli was in trouble, took the initiative to send over five thousand yuan.

Wen Tingli was deeply moved and hurried to thank Principal Zou in person, but unfortunately the old man was too busy at year’s end. By the time they arrived at Wushi Middle School, the old principal was in the middle of a meeting with the school board, and after waiting over an hour outside, they still couldn’t get a moment with him.

The three of them returned dejectedly, when Gao Xiaowen suddenly showed up at the door. The Gao family heiress didn’t hold back — the moment she entered, she pulled out a check for twenty thousand yuan.

“Don’t worry, this check is real.” Gao Xiaowen looked rather downcast. “I’m sorry about yesterday — I really didn’t expect the Ningbo Yan family would turn out to be in such a state.”

She had no idea what had actually happened the previous night, only assuming the Yan family had tried to trick Wen Tingli with a fake check to get a free advertisement. Not only had she failed to help her friend, she’d nearly gotten her friend scammed.

This left Gao Xiaowen feeling deeply embarrassed.

Worried Wen Tingli might refuse it, she added emphatically: “Just consider it the advertising fee for Frost White Powder Cream. You worked so hard promoting it on set a while back — sales at the counter went up a full twenty percent last month. And you, always so loyal, never once asked me for that ad fee. Might as well settle it all at once this time — you’ll keep promoting it for me going forward, understand?”

Wen Tingli had nothing left to say, and accepted it. The group sat cross-legged on Wen Tingli’s bed and counted it all up — thirty-two thousand yuan total, plus Wen Tingli’s own savings of twenty-four thousand, still only just over fifty thousand — still not enough.

That evening, Huang Yuanshan came to the Wen household.

Wen Tingli answered the door and froze in place.

“Sister Yue!”

Yue Zhaoyun stood beside Huang Yuanshan, smiling: “We came without notice — hope you don’t mind the intrusion?”

Yan Zhenzhen, hearing this was the famous Yue Zhaoyun, stared wide-eyed, rushing forward delightedly to clasp the senior’s hand, reluctant to let go for the longest time. Huang Yuanshan took the moment to accept the tea Zhou Sao brought over, saying to Wen Tingli:

“This morning I didn’t even finish talking before you ran off. Zhaoyun is a person of principle — she heard about the fire on set and said she’d come to Shanghai a while back already. Today, after arriving in Shanghai, she heard you were preparing to sue Boss Liu, and immediately had me bring her to find you, saying she wants to help you figure this out together.”

Yue Zhaoyun said seriously to Wen Tingli: “I understand Liu Menglin’s difficulties, but his approach is far too shortsighted. In this profession, the worst thing is signing a contract carelessly. A couple years back I saw two rather talented newcomers, both bound by a contract before they knew the ways of the world, forced to act in disreputable films as a result. Yuanshan and I discussed this at length — this lawsuit cannot go forward. First, lawsuits often drag on for years, and during that time, Liu Menglin will team up with other film company bosses to blacklist you — even if you eventually win, your acting career will be ruined regardless.

“Second, Yuanshan and I have already looked into it — this time Liu Menglin came well prepared. To minimize his losses, he’s mobilized every social connection he has — legal circles, the concession tribunal, the newspapers, all three fronts at once. During the lawsuit, you’ll face an overwhelming wave of public slander; he won’t stop until your reputation is thoroughly ruined. Even if you win, you’d still come out utterly defeated. Looking at the long run, the only option this time is to accept the loss — money can be earned again, but a ruined future isn’t worth it.”

As she spoke, she took a note out of her handbag and handed it to Wen Tingli.

It was a bank note for ten thousand silver dollars. Wen Tingli stood up as if scalded: “No, I can’t.”

“Have you forgotten what I told you that night across from Fourth Road?” Yue Zhaoyun looked at Wen Tingli meaningfully.

Wen Tingli fell silent.

“Talent is a gift bestowed by heaven, and it should be cherished properly. What’s more, having people help you is a good thing — it doesn’t prove your weakness, it proves your worth. Take it.”

These words echoed remarkably what Meng Qiguang had said that night too. Wen Tingli felt a lump rise in her throat. Huang Yuanshan, grinning, handed over her own check as well.

“That day you refused to take it no matter what I said — surely you’ll accept it this time? Speaking of which, if I hadn’t insisted on having you star in Beauty of the Southern Land, you wouldn’t have run into this whole mess. Consider it my debt to you — though I should say upfront, this money will need to be repaid eventually.”

With this, they finally scraped together over ninety thousand yuan. By now it was deep into the night, and only after Wen Tingli’s repeated urging did her friends finally take their leave and head home.

Wen Tingli sat alone in the parlor, lost in thought, gazing at this pile of banknotes of varying denominations, her heart swelling now with turmoil, now with warmth, wrapped tightly in a thick, soft feeling of gratitude — several times she felt moved almost to tears.

Looking back on all the people she’d met and everything she’d been through this past year, it felt as if she’d lived several lifetimes. Fortunately, her heart hadn’t grown weary or jaded from it all — instead, she felt more and more courage to face life.

Lost in thought for a long while, she slowly composed herself and let her gaze fall on the telephone on the wall. She knew that if things had gone smoothly on Li Chengying’s end, someone should be coming to find her soon. The next moment, the phone rang.

“It’s me—” came Luo Shuhong’s hoarse, panicked voice from the other end, “Can we meet somewhere?”

Not entirely beyond hope after all. Wen Tingli let out a breath of relief: “In that case, I’ll choose the place.”

An hour later, she met Luo Shuhong at a small tavern run by White Russians — the place was closed during the day and only opened business in the evening, staying open all night after that.

There weren’t many patrons inside; they picked out a private room, sat down, and paid in advance, telling the owner not to disturb them. The White Russian owner readily agreed, and the two women sat facing each other.

After just a few days apart, Luo Shuhong had lost a great deal of weight, her complexion terrible, thick powder unable to conceal the dark circles under her eyes.

Restlessly twisting her fingers for a while, she took a few photographs out of her small handbag and set them on the table.

“You — when did you start having people follow me?”

Wen Tingli didn’t even need to look to know what those photos were.

One photo caught Luo Shuhong just as she was coming out of Deng Tianxing’s home. The second showed Luo Shuhong talking with Deng Tianxing in a secluded corner of Zhaofeng Park, Luo Shuhong about to hand him a stack of cash.

The third, and most crucial one, was set at the Gao family dinner party, the camera focused on Wen Tingli’s back.

One could tell the photographer greatly admired Wen Tingli, the composition of the shot quite beautiful.

But since the scene was crowded with people coming and going, the lens had accidentally caught another female guest beside Wen Tingli — none other than Luo Shuhong, who had also been invited to that evening’s Gao family dinner. She, too, had been reaching for champagne at the table, but oddly, had raised her left hand and flicked a fingernail toward Wen Tingli’s champagne glass.

If one didn’t look closely, no one would suspect this gesture was poisoning the drink.

“After the incident, I asked Young Master Gao for the guest list from that evening, first narrowing down the range of suspects, then quietly asking around whether there were any witnesses. As it happened, Mrs. Pan’s nephew had brought a German camera that night and took a number of photos — luckily catching the moment you poisoned the drink. Unfortunately, while he was taking the photo, a friend happened to come over and talk to him, so he never actually noticed your little movement with his own eyes — but this photo alone is enough to charge you with attempted murder. You have no way to deny it!”

Luo Shuhong listened, breaking into a cold sweat, then suddenly covered her face and burst into tears: “I — I didn’t know it was poison. When Deng Tianxing gave me that pill, he swore up and down it was just a laxative — that night you were filming the final scene of Beauty of the Southern Land, and he wanted to make you have diarrhea, badly enough that you couldn’t make it onto the set. Knowing Sister Huang’s temperament, she’d probably drive you to the hospital herself, throwing the whole crew into chaos, and he’d sneak up to the screening room amid the confusion to steal the film reel of Beauty of the Southern Land and burn it. That way, the whole company would think you were a jinx and never push you again — but I never imagined he meant to take your life.”

Wen Tingli looked at her coldly.

Luo Shuhong sobbed, breathless: “I know, at this point, no matter what I say you won’t believe me, but I swear every word is true. I truly regret letting a worthless man addle my mind. I — I can’t even tell if I love him or pity him. To think, if he hadn’t helped me land the role of ‘Nanqi,’ I wouldn’t have ended up in such a miserable state. A once-fine film star, reduced to something neither human nor ghost.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, an expression of extreme pain on her face: “On one hand, I feel I’ve wronged him, and on the other, I also felt you and — you and Lu Shicheng were far too ruthless. So the moment Deng Tianxing egged me on, I harbored thoughts of taking revenge on you two together with him. But from start to finish, I never wanted you dead. Truly.”

Wen Tingli looked at her with extreme sarcasm: “Even now, you still think Deng Tianxing did that to help you? He did it for himself! If a man truly loved you, would he egg you on to help him hurt someone? Once things came to light, Deng Tianxing would have unhesitatingly thrown you under the bus to take the blame for him.”

Luo Shuhong fell silent for a moment, then covered her eyes and cried again: “No matter what, he’s already dead now, and died so horribly. I’m afraid — I’m afraid his ghost will come after me. I’m also afraid the White Dragon Gang will find out I helped Deng Tianxing and come silence me too. I don’t even dare tell my father — my father, a proper opium tycoon, if he knew I was so worthless, might be angered to death. His health’s already poor as it is — these past days I’ve been in agony day and night, regretting it all, sometimes truly wishing I were dead. No wonder my father always says I’m smart-faced but foolish-hearted — I really let myself get blinded by lust!”

Crying and crying, she took her hands from her face, and looked at Wen Tingli with a pair of red, swollen eyes: “Miss Wen, I nearly cost you your life — I really have no face to beg your forgiveness. But I can tell you with my hand on my heart, that night when I heard the set had caught fire, my heart clenched up in a knot — and later, seeing you safe and unharmed, you have no idea how happy I was.”

She wiped away her tears and resolutely pulled a thick stack of banknotes from her small silver handbag, pushing it across the table toward Wen Tingli.

“I know Boss Liu’s been pressing you hard lately, but every debt has its debtor — I can’t escape responsibility in this matter. Now that both Deng Tianxing and Qiu Dapeng are dead, I can’t keep hiding in the shadows either. This is a hundred and twenty thousand yuan — take it, consider it — consider it my—”

She lowered her head: “consider it me buying back my own conscience with this money.”

Wen Tingli glanced instinctively at her hand — Luo Shuhong’s right ring finger, which usually wore a large pigeon-blood diamond ring, was now bare.

Luo Shuhong bit her lip and withdrew her hands: “I don’t dare let my family know about this — I secretly took the jewelry I usually wear to the pawnshop and sold it, and—”

And also secretly took some jewelry from the storeroom that her mother rarely wore, scraping together this sum bit by bit — though naturally, there was no need to explain all this to Wen Tingli.

Wen Tingli, without another word, put the money away. Luo Shuhong looked startled.

“What, did Miss Luo think I’d be too embarrassed to accept it?”

Luo Shuhong stared blankly at Wen Tingli, then suddenly gave a bitter laugh: “You really are… never one to play by the usual rules.”

She lowered her head again, saying with a heart gone cold: “This fire has caused so many of the company’s staff to suffer along with it — the least I can do is make up for it as best I can. I’ve already paid the money. If Miss Wen still wants to press charges against me, I won’t try to deny anything. After suffering through all this, I’ve finally thought things through completely — rather than live in constant fear day and night, better to just settle things once and for all. I’ll wait for your call.”

She left, walking away as if her soul had left her body.

Wen Tingli watched her retreating figure with mixed feelings. She came out and walked toward an inconspicuous little bookstore across the street, its second-floor windows dark — she knew Li Chengying and Head Nurse Liu were waiting for her in the room upstairs.

Once upstairs, she told them what had just happened. Li Chengying carefully examined the banknotes: “This is from an old, reputable establishment with cash reserves on hand — no problems here. She must be sincerely trying to make amends, which is why she didn’t bring a check.”

Liu Xiangzhi sighed with feeling: “One wrong step leads to another, and another — good thing what remained of her conscience saved this Miss Luo in the end. Little Wen, have you decided? Do you still want to press charges against her for attempted murder? If so, we’ll start preparing.”

Wen Tingli shook her head: “If I press charges, Luo Shuhong will carry the label of murderer for the rest of her life. Life is long, and who among us never makes mistakes? She’s already made up for it as much as she’s able. Let’s give her a chance to reform. Besides, her father Luo Kunlong is a ruthless character — pressing charges would only end up hurting both sides. Unless I have no other choice, I’d rather not go out of my way to make enemies.”

Li Chengying nodded: “Little Wen, you’re thinking things through more and more thoroughly these days. All right then — but just in case, we’ll keep hold of this evidence for you.”

This was exactly what Wen Tingli had in mind too.

The next day, before dawn, Wen Tingli had the company driver come pick her up and spent the whole morning returning the banknotes her friends had brought over the day before, one by one.

At noon, she met Liu Yaqiao at a small bookstore in front of Huzhong University.

Liu Yaqiao got straight to the point: “I only just found out you’re in this much trouble. Come on, take me to see this Boss Liu of yours right now. He’s clearly trying to make a big scene out of this to win public sympathy — I’m confident I can win this lawsuit for you—”

Wen Tingli grasped the back of Liu Yaqiao’s hand: “No, thank you, Sister Yaqiao, but I’ve decided not to pursue the lawsuit. Sister Yue and the others are right — if this blows up, it’ll do nothing but harm my own future, and I still hope to make something of myself in this business. I’ve already raised the money, but I’m worried Liu Menglin might pull some other dirty trick to make things difficult for me, so I’d like you to come with me.”

Liu Yaqiao thought about it: “My suggestion is — you can give him the hundred thousand yuan, but have it deposited into the company account as an equity investment. That way, you’ll also have a share in the company’s future profits.”

Wen Tingli’s eyes lit up — truly, a lawyer, able to come up with such a clever idea.

The two of them rushed to the company and went upstairs together to find Liu Menglin. Unlike yesterday, today Wen Tingli’s demeanor was noticeably more assertive, striding boldly up to the desk.

“Boss Liu, this is my lawyer. And I’ve brought the money too.” She grandly slapped part of the banknotes onto the table, then tucked the rest back into her bag. “As for what comes next, my lawyer Miss Liu will handle it with you.”

Liu Yaqiao gave Liu Menglin a slight bow, saying in a businesslike tone: “I currently work at the Bao Yaoming Law Firm. This matter of Miss Wen investing capital and purchasing shares in your company will be under my full responsibility.”

As she listened, Liu Menglin’s face gradually turned from sallow to dark, then from dark to red, finally settling into a purplish liver color.

“Invest capital? Buy shares? Profit-sharing?” His anger flared up; he pulled a document from his drawer and threw it in front of Liu Yaqiao and Wen Tingli. “Never mind that — who told you Wen Tingli only needs to pay a hundred thousand yuan in compensation?”

Wen Tingli and Liu Yaqiao exchanged glances.

Then Liu Menglin said in a muffled voice: “Miss Wen, open your eyes and look properly. It clearly says one hundred and thirty thousand silver yuan.”

Wen Tingli slammed her hand on the table: “Liu Menglin, don’t push people too far!”

Liu Menglin snorted through his nose: “Since you’ve already brought a lawyer, why not have this young lady take a look and see if I’m really ‘bullying’ anyone. This figure was calculated jointly by the company’s accounting department and the Tianxiang Law Firm.”

Wen Tingli looked anxiously at Liu Yaqiao, who was carefully reviewing the contract on the table.

“Well?” Wen Tingli couldn’t help asking Liu Yaqiao in a low voice.

Liu Yaqiao signaled Wen Tingli to leave with her first.

Once outside, Liu Yaqiao’s expression was quite serious: “The biggest problem right now is that the dead can’t testify. There’s also more new witness and physical evidence on the French Concession’s side that’s very unfavorable to you. Liu Menglin, as the biggest loser in this fire, can raise the stakes anytime he wants. Give me an afternoon — I’ll look into it further and come find you. Don’t worry, there’s always a way to solve this.”

Wen Tingli waited anxiously until five o’clock, but hadn’t heard anything from Liu Yaqiao yet. Instead, a senior colleague from the crew called to hurry her along.

“Why haven’t you left yet? So many reporters and celebrities have shown up at the company — Boss Liu’s had people looking for you everywhere.”

Wen Tingli slapped her forehead — she’d completely forgotten today was the company’s New Year gathering. This was the kind of occasion she always took seriously, and she hurriedly pulled herself together to get dressed.

On the way to the company, she quietly analyzed the current situation in her mind.

She had a lot of confidence in Sister Yaqiao’s ability, but she hadn’t forgotten that Liu Menglin had hired a top lawyer from the famous Tianxiang Law Firm in Shanghai, with a dozen or so apprentices under him alone. And given how short the time was, even with all of Sister Yaqiao’s talent, it would be hard to find a breakthrough in such a short span.

Actually, with Luo Shuhong’s compensation money in hand, whether it was a hundred thousand or a hundred thirty thousand yuan, she could pay it at any time — but she really didn’t want to indulge Liu Menglin’s bad habits. Yet if she didn’t compromise, her only options were signing the servitude contract with the company, or going through with the lawsuit.

Preoccupied with these thoughts, she pushed open the car door, only to be met by countless flashing camera bulbs the moment she stepped out.

“Miss Wen! Over here! What are your expectations for the box office of Beauty of the Southern Land?”

Wen Tingli immediately broke into a rose-bright smile.

She was simply born for the limelight — the more crowded the occasion, the more she shone. Every time she faced the cameras, she felt so exhilarated even her hair seemed to glow.

But now, the sweeter her smile grew on the surface, the more troubled she felt inside. As soon as she could, she slipped away from the crowd, found a quiet corner to sit down, and, holding an empty wine glass, stared at the wall like a philosopher lost in thought.

Suddenly she heard a commotion behind her, as if some important figure had arrived. On any other day, Wen Tingli would surely have turned to see what the fuss was about, but she had no such interest right now.

Having barely endured for the better part of an hour, she finally couldn’t wait any longer and went to the back to call Liu Yaqiao, who said: “I was just about to reach you — the French Concession tribunal has withdrawn your civil case.”

“What?”

“Liu Menglin decided not to sue after all.”

“How is that possible?” Wen Tingli blurted out.

Liu Yaqiao laughed: “It’s true — I’m still trying to find out why myself.”

Wen Tingli, worried Liu Menglin might be cooking up some other big move, thought it over and decided to go find him in person to feel out the situation, but before she could set off, Liu Menglin came to find her himself.

“Little Wen.” Liu Menglin’s face rarely wore a hint of guilt. “The whole thing before was just a misunderstanding — don’t take it to heart.”

Wen Tingli eyed Liu Menglin suspiciously — just a couple days ago his face had been swollen like a pig’s head, but now it wasn’t swollen at all, and even the sores at the corners of his mouth had mostly healed.

“What happened?” she asked warily. “You’re not going to sue me anymore?”

“Not suing, not suing.” Liu Menglin waved his hand modestly.

“You’re not pinning the arson charge on me anymore?” A hint of a smile touched her lips, though her clear eyes showed no trace of amusement.

“Not pinning it, not pinning it — no, what kind of talk is that? I already said it was a misunderstanding, why keep bringing up these resentful words?”

Wen Tingli was so exasperated she nearly laughed. Before she could press further, she saw a group of guests coming down the stairs surrounding someone; her heart suddenly brightened. She stared at the figure for a moment, then took off walking that way.

Lu Shicheng had just stepped into the garden when he heard a crisp voice behind him say: “Stop right there!”

He paused for a moment, stopping in place, but didn’t turn around.

Wen Tingli walked up from behind to face him, looking up: “I knew it was you.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t answer.

“That business with Boss Liu — you paid the money for me, didn’t you?” She stood very close to him; some scent she’d put on drifted, sweet and faint, past his nose, and he couldn’t help but turn his face away.

Wen Tingli quickly stepped closer, positioning her face in front of him again.

“Why won’t you speak? Don’t dare answer? Or is it inconvenient to answer? Last time you’d rather give up the entire house to me than stay under the same roof with me — this time why help me again? Did I ever say I’d accept your help?”

Lu Shicheng suddenly spoke up: “Aren’t you cold?”

Wen Tingli, startled, followed his gaze down — in her hurry to chase after him, she’d forgotten to put on her coat, and now she wore only a very thin evening gown. A gust of cold wind blew by, and she couldn’t help but shiver.

“If you don’t want to get sick, Miss Wen had best go back inside.” he said flatly, then walked past her.

She caught up to him again, stretching both arms out to block his path: “A hundred and thirty thousand yuan is no small sum — if you don’t explain clearly under what name and capacity you helped me, I won’t accept it.”

Another gust of wind blew by, chilling her to the bone; she gave up and pulled her arms back to rub them, but even as cold as she was, she still refused to go back inside to warm up.

Lu Shicheng paused, then simply stepped aside to let her pass, walking off in the other direction himself. But after walking some distance, Wen Tingli still stubbornly stood in place. Lu Shicheng frowned at the path ahead, and finally turned back.

“Have you forgotten you nearly got pneumonia just a few days ago?”

“What’s pneumonia? I won’t leave until you explain yourself clearly.”

Lu Shicheng indeed didn’t move again. Wen Tingli smiled and pointed toward the empty row of glass rooms behind him, saying softly: “It’s warm in there — if you’re worried I’ll get cold, come with me.”

The two of them walked one after the other to the lounge; the moment the door opened, a wave of warm air rushed out to meet them.

“Please, sit.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t sit, only stood by the table with his hands in his pockets.

Wen Tingli paid him no mind, walking straight to the cabinet to make tea: “Let me pour you a hot cup of tea to warm you up first. This is the cast lounge — colleagues often rest here, sometimes even eat here, especially after the fire on set—”

She abruptly cut off this deflating topic, focusing instead on brewing the tea. Before long it was ready, and she carried the tray over to him.

“Please, drink.”

Lu Shicheng took the cup without expression: “Thank you.”

Wen Tingli picked up her own cup and sat down to drink slowly. The hot tea on a winter night was as satisfying as ice in the height of summer; after a few sips, she broke into a light sweat, her complexion turning rosy.

Looking up again, she saw Lu Shicheng had walked over to the window, looking outside.

She studied his profile, saying tentatively: “That day I found out our neighbor Mrs. Liu had gone missing, I called you right away. But Steward Xu said you’d gone to Nanyang. You… when did you get back?”

Lu Shicheng didn’t answer.

“Wonderful! So tonight you won’t answer even one question, is that it?”

Lu Shicheng was silent for a moment, then turned to her: “No, I’ll answer every question you have honestly. But before that, would you first answer a few questions for me?”

Wen Tingli paused, then put on a nonchalant air: “Ask away! I’m not like some people, always saying one thing and meaning another.”

“Then, tell me — that night in the alley behind Dayuan Teahouse, how many of you were there in total? Why were they willing to risk assassinating Qiu Dapeng for you? And how did they know his whereabouts in advance? And also, why did they have you investigate me in the first place?”

Wen Tingli suddenly went mute.

“Don’t dare answer? Or is it inconvenient?” Lu Shicheng raised an eyebrow.

These were the very words she’d used to question him earlier — and now he was throwing them right back at her.

She fell silent, lowering her head apologetically: “You know perfectly well I can’t say.”

Lu Shicheng’s expression showed a hint of innocence: “Why can’t you say?”

“You’ve changed! You’ve become so aggressive.”

Lu Shicheng’s smile faded, and he looked at her with a complicated expression, quietly. Only he himself knew how worried he’d been for her, how afraid — and mixed in, too, an indistinct thread of jealousy.

He said hoarsely: “Wen Tingli, you should know trust always goes both ways. You have no right to demand honesty from the other side alone, do you?”

Wen Tingli walked toward him, ashamed: “I’m sorry, but please forgive me for not being able to be honest with you on this one matter. They’re all very, very good people — they’ve helped me so much, I have to protect them.”

“Then I suppose there’s nothing more to say between us.” Lu Shicheng’s expression turned utterly calm, his tone even calmer, decisively ending the conversation.

Wen Tingli grew a little anxious: “But this is completely two different matters. You mean more to me than anything, but they matter to me just as much too — the two aren’t contradictory. Just think — how long have we known each other, when have I ever harmed you? Just thinking about that alone should tell you whether I’m a good person or a bad one. Why can’t a good person be allowed to keep a few secrets of her own?”

Lu Shicheng gazed at her deeply: “I respect all of your secrets. Likewise, please respect my decision.”

Having said this, he seemed to feel there was nothing more worth discussing, and stepped toward the door.

If they parted like this tonight, who knew when they’d meet again. Without a moment’s hesitation, Wen Tingli rushed forward and hugged him from behind.

The instant she pressed against him, his body visibly stiffened.

She simply closed her eyes tight: “I love you! After I got out of the fire, I wrote you several letters, then tore them up after writing. You’re afraid I’m just toying with your feelings, but you have no idea, I wish I could tear my own heart out and show it to you. I’m so sorry that contract caused you such deep hurt, but I swear that was the only time, and the last time, I’ll ever deceive you. Please, trust me one more time.”

Lu Shicheng’s hands, hanging at his sides, rose several times as if to reach for her, then fell again. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could feel his chest heaving violently.

In that instant, a feeling both sweet and bitter welled up inside her, and she held him even tighter.

But Lu Shicheng, as if afraid his willpower would waver, soon raised his hands and forcibly pried her arms from around his waist.

“If you keep hiding so many things from me, I won’t believe a single word you say.”

She heard him say hoarsely.

Her heart ached a little; she reached to embrace him again, only to be pushed away once more. In her urgency, she blurted out: “I really didn’t expect you to be this suspicious of everything!”

In the midst of struggling, her hand happened to brush against the back of his — and she found a long scar there, the one left when Third Master Lu had run a wheelchair over his hand; she had been present when it happened.

That scar hadn’t faded to this day.

She suddenly deeply regretted saying that. Anyone who grew up in that kind of environment couldn’t help but become suspicious of everything. In his place, having been deceived once by someone close to him, she too would find it hard to trust again.

“I’m sorry, I—”

Lu Shicheng, looking straight ahead, said: “I’ve always been a suspicious person. I thought you already knew that!”

He pulled open the door and walked out.

“Go, then! In fact, if you could have coldly ignored my troubles this time, would I even be pestering you? But you just can’t bring yourself to stand by and do nothing about my affairs!”

The only answer was the whistling wind in the garden.

Wen Tingli sank down onto the sofa, holding her forehead.

Just then, footsteps suddenly sounded in the empty foyer; she assumed Lu Shicheng had come back, and hurriedly turned her face away.

But the voice that came from ahead was Kuang Zhilin’s.

“Miss Wen.” Kuang Zhilin’s gaze swept quickly around the room. “Where’s Young Master Cheng?”

Wen Tingli felt an indescribable disappointment, forcing herself to say: “He’s already left.”

Kuang Zhilin didn’t immediately chase after him, but stood there studying Wen Tingli’s expression, then, after a moment’s thought, said in a light tone: “Miss Wen needn’t worry about the fire compensation anymore. Mr. Lu has already settled everything with your company.”

This reminded Wen Tingli, and she hurriedly pulled the stack of banknotes from her handbag: “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss with you, Mr. Kuang — please help me pass this hundred and twenty thousand yuan back to Mr. Lu Shicheng, and tell him: my affairs don’t need his help.”

Without waiting for a response, she shoved the pile of banknotes into Kuang Zhilin’s hands.

Kuang Zhilin looked at the enormous sum of money in his hands in shock, then looked at Wen Tingli in bewilderment — such a huge amount of money—

He opened his mouth, and with some effort suppressed the urge to ask her directly where this money had come from, resuming his composed tone.

“Miss Wen, don’t forget, this is what Young Master Cheng owes you to begin with. If you hadn’t saved Young Master Lu last year, you wouldn’t have shot Qiu Dapeng’s son, and you wouldn’t have brought this deadly trouble upon yourself either. This whole disaster came about because of that. By reason and by rights, Young Master Cheng ought to step in personally to resolve this trouble.”

Wen Tingli didn’t respond.

Kuang Zhilin hesitated, then said with a wry smile: “Perhaps I’ve spoken out of turn. I only mean to say, this has nothing to do with debt or no debt — it’s simply that when it comes to anything concerning you, Young Master Lu can never bring himself not to care.”

Wen Tingli: “Is that so? I don’t think so — that’s merely your own misunderstanding, Mr. Kuang.”

Even as she said this, she stole a glance at Kuang Zhilin’s expression, hoping to hear more of his true thoughts, but Kuang Zhilin discreetly let the topic drop. “I won’t trouble Miss Wen further — I still need to go find Young Master Lu. I’ll pass along the money — as for whether Young Master Cheng will accept it—”

“If he won’t take it, tomorrow I’ll donate it in his name to the Women and Children’s Charity Organization.”

Kuang Zhilin left, thoroughly puzzled, carrying the pile of banknotes with him. Wen Tingli stood in front of the sofa, watching Kuang Zhilin leave, then, after a moment of silence, walked distractedly to the window and stared blankly outside.

Someone else came in — it was Huang Yuanshan.

“What are you doing hiding here alone?” Huang Yuanshan said, beaming. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! This afternoon a distinguished guest came to discuss a partnership with the company — guess who?!”

Without waiting for Wen Tingli to answer, she clapped her hands. “Lu Shicheng! He’d invested in Sands of Time before, and now that the film’s production is stalled, every day of delay means lost wages. Lu Shicheng simply stepped in as a partner and producer to provide financial support to the company, pushing Liu Menglin to resume production as soon as possible. This afternoon he injected a huge sum into the company, but also made clear that once the film releases, the Lu family will be taking a share of the profits. Liu Menglin, who’s been worrying about where to scrounge up funds, suddenly got this huge windfall — naturally he’s in high spirits, promising to repair the set as quickly as possible.”

As she spoke, Huang Yuanshan noticed Wen Tingli’s face showed no surprise at all.

“You already knew about this? Wait — could Lu Shicheng have done this just to help you—” I did wonder why Boss Liu suddenly stopped pushing you to sign the contract. This isn’t a small sum, either. Did Lu Shicheng say anything about wanting you to do anything for him in return? Nothing?! Tsk tsk.”

She excitedly pulled over a chair and sat across from Wen Tingli, asking curiously: “Weren’t you and Lu Shicheng already on the outs? When did you two make up again?”

“What making up, who wants to make up with him?!”

“No making up? But Lu Shicheng’s no reincarnated Buddha — why would he help out with such a huge favor for no reason?”

Wen Tingli left with just one remark: “This is what he owes me! But I won’t take it — I’ll make him keep owing me.”

With that, she walked out like a proud peacock, head held high.

Huang Yuanshan stood stunned for a moment, then called after her teasingly: “This one’s turned into a peacock spirit or something! Hey, now I’m completely confused — who owes whom here between you two? Explain yourself properly before you run off like that!”