Chapter 24 Part 1

In the hospital, Le Yiqiu followed the nurse’s directions and found Room 1206.

Two bodyguards stood vigilantly at the door, scanning the surroundings for any potential disturbances to the person resting inside.

One of them was Brother Chen, the driver. She quickened her steps and approached him. “Brother Chen, is Lin Xianing in there?”

“Teacher Le.” Brother Chen greeted her. “The boss is inside.”

“Can I go in?” Le Yiqiu worried that Lin Xianing might be resting or that the doctor had ordered no visitors.

Brother Chen hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’ll check.”

He knocked on the door. After receiving permission from inside, he opened it. “Boss, Teacher Le is here.”

Le Yiqiu and Lin Xianing were wives, but he drew his salary from Lin Xianing. He couldn’t just let anyone in on his own.

Le Yiqiu understood. She didn’t press him and simply waited quietly.

“Le Yiqiu?”

“Let her come in.”

Two voices came from inside the room. The one approving her entry belonged to Lin Xianing.

Le Yiqiu didn’t hesitate and walked right in. She looked Lin Xianing up and down.

Lin Xianing sat on the bed, the corners of her mouth curved in a slight smile. She didn’t seem upset by the accident—in fact, she appeared rather pleased.

Clearly, it had nothing to do with Le Yiqiu’s arrival. They must have just been chatting about something enjoyable.

“Are you all right?”

Le Yiqiu’s anxiety and concern were all noted by Lin Xianing.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“What happened?”

Lin Xianing had seemed perfectly fine when she left that morning. How had she ended up injured in less than an hour?

Lin Xianing didn’t answer. Instead, she eyed Le Yiqiu’s outfit. “Were you heading out to work out?”

Le Yiqiu wore a blue-and-white tracksuit with sneakers on her feet, reminiscent of how she used to look years ago when she played sports.

“Not yet. I was just about to leave when I ran into Chen Tao.”

“Oh.”

Lin Xianing lowered her gaze. “What for?”

“To play ball.”

“Tennis?”

“Yeah.” So Lin Xianing knew she played tennis.

Le Yiqiu caught a flicker of reminiscence on Lin Xianing’s face. What was that about? Had they played together? Or had Lin Xianing played with someone else?

“Why didn’t you go?”

The moment the words left her mouth, Lin Xianing realized how pointless they were.

Le Yiqiu had just explained running into Chen Tao on her way out and learning about the hospitalization. Naturally, she would come visit.

Lin Xianing gave a helpless smile. “I’m okay. A couple of days’ rest, and I’ll be back on set.”

“Two days?”

The woman nearby let out a scoff. “Lin Xianing, don’t be so reckless.”

“It takes a hundred days to recover from injuries to muscles and bones. You might not need the full hundred, but a week at least.”

Her tone carried a mix of mockery, teasing, and genuine concern. “As your agent, I’d love to wring every last drop out of you. But as your business partner, I hope you stick around a bit longer.”

Lin Xianing’s agent was Zhao Ruo, certified by the industry as having the sharpest eyes around.

Her first signed client had been Lin Xianing. Ten years later, Lin Xianing still reigned at the summit of female stars—a testament to Zhao Ruo’s prowess.

Lin Xianing and Zhao Ruo had risen together. Seventeen-year-old student Lin Xianing had met twenty-six-year-old Zhao Ruo, fresh from quitting her government job to become an agent.

At Zhao Ruo’s urging, Lin Xianing debuted as a rookie actress.

Lin Xianing lived up to the hype. She possessed real talent for acting. From green newcomer to Grand Slam top idol Film Queen, her skills drew only a few jabs for their early rawness. After that, no one dared question them.

Unlike the countless artist-agent fallouts plaguing the industry, they had become mentor and friend, propping each other up to the very pinnacle.

Plenty of info about Lin Xianing floated online, true and false alike. Some could be trusted; some couldn’t.

Take her relationship with Zhao Ruo—they’d discussed it in countless interviews. Anyone following Lin Xianing even casually would know.

Le Yiqiu glanced up at Zhao Ruo, who was in the middle of admonishing Lin Xianing. Zhao Ruo had to be thirty-seven or thirty-eight by now, but she looked no older than thirty. Her sharp makeup and tailored business suit radiated the aura of a powerful career woman, full of commanding presence.

Arms crossed, Zhao Ruo swept her gaze over Le Yiqiu before turning back. “I’ll deal with Director Zheng. You focus on resting.”

“The doctor says you don’t need to be admitted. Pack up and head home this afternoon.”

She shot Le Yiqiu a sidelong glance. “That way you won’t get distracted, mooning over someone else and flubbing even the simplest moves.”

Zhao Ruo hadn’t addressed Le Yiqiu directly once. Le Yiqiu was stunned by the nonstop tirade.

But she had a point. Better to rest thoroughly now than risk aggravating the injury later.

Still, what did she mean by Lin Xianing being distracted?

Who was on Lin Xianing’s mind? And that glance from Zhao Ruo—it had been aimed at her, right?

“Got it. I’ll call Director Zheng later and apologize.” Lin Xianing sounded resigned, unperturbed by Zhao Ruo’s sharpness.

She knew her agent meant well. After so many years together, they understood each other’s ways.

Zhao Ruo had a sharp tongue but a soft heart. With those she cared for, her concern came out stiff and unpolished.

Lin Xianing brushed it off without a second thought. As for Director Zheng, that was her agent’s job—but as the lead actress, Lin Xianing needed to make her own gesture too.

…

When Zheng Zhi picked up Lin Xianing’s call, he couldn’t help muttering to himself: If I’d kept Le Yiqiu on set, maybe none of this would’ve happened.

Without their leading lady, the crew pivoted to other scenes. A week’s leave for an injury was manageable—not like she’d taken some conflicting endorsement gig.

If anything, the production bore some unavoidable blame.

Zhao Ruo had requested the leave, and Zheng Zhi approved without hesitation.

Lin Xianing’s apologetic call only improved his mood. As a director who’d helmed hit idol dramas, he knew the industry’s ways all too well.

An artist with Lin Xianing’s fame, skill, and humility? No wonder she dominated.

Whatever Zheng Zhi made of it, Lin Xianing hung up to find Le Yiqiu standing obediently off to the side—like a puppy awaiting its owner’s notice, innocent and endearingly clueless. The sight tugged at her heart.

Lin Xianing cleared her throat lightly and looked away. She gestured to the nearby chair. “Sit.”

Zhao Ruo had slipped out while Lin Xianing was on the phone.

Zhao Ruo was one of the bosses at Summer Entertainment Company, the other being Lin Xianing herself.

Lin Xianing also ran Lin Xianing Studio, which operated under Summer Entertainment’s umbrella.

She rarely got involved in day-to-day operations, only weighing in on major company crises.

For endorsements and gigs, the company vetted options first; then she decided.

With the company overseeing everything, her studio was more of a figurehead.

Its workload had shrunk by at least ninety percent compared to Zhao Ruo’s solo days.

Light duties suited Lin Xianing fine. She disliked crowds and socializing; her social media contacts numbered in the single digits.

Surface civility was enough—pointless chit-chat held no appeal.

For someone of her stature, she kept the smallest entourage around.

Was it the stark hospital room playing tricks, or something in her own heart? Le Yiqiu sensed an aura of profound loneliness radiating from Lin Xianing.

By all accounts, her parents seemed decent. Le Yiqiu had met Lin Mama—quick-tempered, sure, but ultimately kindhearted.

She’d never met Father Lin. They’d planned a Mid-Autumn gathering at the Lin Family home, only for it to get canceled for reasons unknown.

Le Yiqiu had only received Lin Xianing’s notice; she knew no details.

Even so, she figured families like the Lins typically frowned on entertainment careers. Take Luo Yaxi: she’d merely hinted at wanting to act and gotten an earful, storming off in a huff.

The Lin Family must think alike, yet they’d backed Lin Xianing’s dreams. Pretty progressive parents.

With family support and friends nearby, where did that loneliness come from?

Perhaps romance?

Le Yiqiu mulled it over, her eyes locked on Lin Xianing. The confusion showed plainly on her face.

With Zhao Ruo gone, the room held just the two of them. Lin Xianing shifted uncomfortably under the stare.

“What are you looking at?”

“Hm?” Le Yiqiu tilted her head innocently. “What?”

How awkward. She’d zoned out, gawking at Lin Xianing’s face like some starstruck fan.

She offered a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

From their earlier talk, Le Yiqiu gathered the injury was minor—rest would mend it. The knot of worry in her chest eased a fraction.

Still, she pressed, “You really don’t need to stay admitted?”

Hospital nurses provided reliable care; home help could never match that attentiveness.

Lin Xianing shook her head. “No need to hog medical resources.”

Hospital stays weren’t ideal for celebrities anyway. A minor issue could balloon into wild rumors with prolonged exposure.

For lodging, she had her own place in Jianglin City. Home would do.

“Stay at my house.”

Le Yiqiu volunteered. It would be better than being alone with her there.

Lin Xianing’s eyes flickered. Staying at Le Yiqiu’s had originally been a shield against surprise family drop-ins. This injury changed that—no need anymore.

Should friends visit, she could claim injury. Somewhere more secluded made sense.

Multiple properties were par for the course among people like her—no one would bat an eye.

Le Yiqiu’s complex had been upscale a decade ago. Now it was solidly middle-class; the security and services weren’t suited for celebrity life.

Lin Xianing had suggested once that she move in. Le Yiqiu refused.

No explanation offered—just refusal.

All at once, Lin Xianing wanted to ask again. She needed to know Le Yiqiu’s reason.

It went beyond their sham marriage. If that were it, Le Yiqiu wouldn’t object.

The marriage contract mandated cohabitation but didn’t specify where.

They’d chosen Le Yiqiu’s place on impulse—no discussion, just moved in.

Later, when paparazzi sniffed out the address and swarmed with their cameras, it grew untenable. Lin Xianing proposed relocating.

Le Yiqiu had replied simply, “Sure.”

“And you?” Lin Xianing had asked.

Le Yiqiu, calm as ever: “Separate residences. If we’re found out and it leaks, we’ll say things soured and we’re discussing divorce.”

Lin Xianing had stormed out in fury, staying away for over half a year under the excuse of filming.

Even recalling it now stirred fresh anger in her.

“Come stay at my place.”

Lin Xianing fixed her gaze on Le Yiqiu’s face, searching for tells in her expression.

Sure enough, Le Yiqiu paused, thought it over, and replied gravely, “I can stay at your house to look after you. Once you’re better, I’ll head home.”

“Why?”

The twenty-eight-year-old Le Yiqiu had stonewalled her. Would this amnesiac version answer?

Lin Xianing hoped the memory loss might coax out the truth.

People didn’t dig into things that didn’t interest them. What did she even know?

Lin Xianing laughed suddenly—at herself. She’d resolved to move on, yet here she was, probing old wounds.