Chapter 39: Fatal Temptation

The phone rang, the shrill tone bouncing relentlessly between her nerves. With great effort, Xie Yingnian reined in her reason and slowly released her grip. She gazed at the faint red mark dimpling Zhong Jia’s chin, confronted once more with the fact of her own loss of control.

Rather than question her endurance—which even Cui Ming had admitted had finally met its match—she preferred to embrace the truth she’d been dodging: this girl, forever flitting under her nose, was a fatal temptation for her, a clinging vine that demanded a full risk assessment before she dared to touch it.

Xie Yingnian had never asked Zhong Jia why she liked her. She supposed she’d simply accepted that whatever the reason, infatuation was fleeting. Emotions had a short shelf life—they either withered under the strain of distance or faded before the relentless march of time.

Time, she couldn’t help but marvel, was truly a wondrous thing.

From the nine-year-old skinny little beanpole she’d glimpsed once and promptly forgotten—save for that red mole at her collarbone—to the sixteen-year-old high schooler in a miniskirt, working the club scene with a mix of green awkwardness and eye-catching allure, Xie Yingnian had no idea how the child she’d watched over from afar through a screen had grown into this vision.

Beauty aside, Zhong Jia’s affections burned far more purely and sincerely than Qiao Yingqiu’s wild, frenzied passion. Zhong Jia had fire in her too, but it blazed only for Xie Yingnian alone—no theatrical flourishes, yet it still scorched her enough to ignite an impulse deep within.

Her thought processes were downright eccentric. Maybe playing punk folk music was just another quirky outlet for it.

~~~

By that logic, whether other changes could proceed smoothly—or how much resistance they’d face from societal norms—was anyone’s guess.

If she’d known… well, even if she had, back then Xie Yingnian still would have had Zhou Chun contact Zhong Jia’s high school homeroom teacher, becoming her sponsor to fund her education and get her into music college.

She wouldn’t have waited for some fateful coincidence engineered by the heavens. Instead, she’d have slipped her own agenda into every teenage consultation and heart-to-heart, steering the entertainment world Zhong Jia entered smaller and smaller, step by step, drawing her closer sooner.

Compared to the temptation of a dandelion seed drifting onto her on the wind, one she’d planted herself was worth the risk. After all, she knew its roots inside out. Qiao Yingqiu was long gone, Zhong Kefei was out of the picture, and her grandmother had passed—family ties so minimal they were practically nonexistent, making the handover of possession seamless.

The intimacy Xie Yingnian craved left no room for anything else; it had to belong to her utterly and completely, inside and out. Zhong Jia’s willingness to let her take freely suggested even the most private spaces could be hers to claim—no matter if that interpretation twisted things a bit. That’s how she saw it.

So after years of abstinence, she’d hesitated and finally decided to try.

As a woman, Xie Yingnian’s elusive sixth sense gave her a hunch about the caller. She pulled the phone from her pocket, and sure enough, Shi Cainran’s name flashed on the screen.

Even forewarned, it still caught her off guard.

It wasn’t the timing—Shi Cainran could call anytime—but the woman rarely initiated contact unless she needed money or favors. More accurately, it was a summons.

In a way, they were plastic sisters.

Zhong Jia rubbed her chin. The slight sting didn’t bother her; instead, she savored the rare glimpse of emotion from the other woman.

“Mm, I’ll head to the car and wait for you.” Glancing at the caller ID, she weighed her little sister against her still-on-probation girlfriend and decided lingering wasn’t wise. She turned to leave.

But Xie Yingnian’s voice drew the insecure girl back into an even closer embrace. “Nothing you can’t hear.”

She took Zhong Jia’s hand, pulled it away, then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the vivid mark. “Sorry. I hurt you.”

The chilly spring air lacked sufficient sun—not the ideal time for plants to thrive. She had the patience to wait, but she couldn’t slack off before the harvest: regular weeding, pest control, watering, fertilizing.

At the same time, that sharp pair of shears shouldn’t reach for the flower bud too soon.

With Xie Yingnian’s approval, Zhong Jia turned back. Her dangling hand lifted again, clinging lingeringly as she nuzzled against her chest with ever-more-polished skill. The woman being taken advantage of rubbed the back of her head with one hand, unhurriedly answering the call.

“Cainran,” Xie Yingnian said flatly.

Hearing the calm tone, Shi Cainran—who felt snubbed—let out a cold laugh. “Sis, you busy?”

No speakerphone, but up close, it was clear enough.

That casual “sis” made Zhong Jia’s stomach twist with jealousy. Before she could stew further, Shi Cainran’s passive-aggressive tone grated on her. Anyone could tell the vibe was off—not the chummy sisterly rapport she’d imagined. Unsure what had happened and mindful of the caller’s status, she couldn’t lash out. Instead, she mouthed, “Don’t you dare snap at my…”

Zhong Jia froze. Her head was down; she didn’t notice Xie Yingnian’s gaze fixed steadily on her.

My what?

Girlfriend? No confidence there. Sister? Not hers either.

“It’s fine.”

The thin, clear voice from above made Zhong Jia first think Xie Yingnian was brushing off Shi Cainran’s jab about being busy. Seconds later, she realized the tone differed from the previous reply.

Xie Yingnian’s eyes lowered, meeting Zhong Jia’s questioning look with a nod. The curve of her lips was meant to reassure.

Not for anyone else—for you. Calm your ruffled fur; I’m fine.

“…Someone with you?” On her end, Shi Cainran gripped the phone, her pupils contracting sharply. After a decade-plus of close acquaintance, she knew Xie Yingnian inside out.

What shocked her wasn’t the company, but the abrupt shift in attitude—the preferential treatment leaped out from just two words. Who was it?

The hospital was packed, the checkup process a tedious maze of steps. Shi Cainran didn’t rush back after the final exam room. Instead, she took the elevator to the first floor, found a corner in a convenience store, and plopped down. In a few days, she had an outdoor variety show with a segment for calling in favors from friends and family in or out of the industry.

Too much footage; the director would edit as they saw fit. To maximize her screen time, she didn’t need agent Jiang Nai’s pointers—she was a pro at milking every last drop of value from Xie Yingnian.

Her assistant Sang Zhi was a fresh college grad. Seahorse Entertainment, a veteran music label, had restructured resources last year, dangling big promises of pay, perks, or promotions for open spots. Sang Zhi nailed the first interview.

She’d thought it a sweet gig, but her assigned artist was a nightmare.

The singing? She’d heard it before—good stuff, viral without any promo team.

But the person… creepy and weird, impossible to deal with.

At an event, picking outfits for Shi Cainran: Sang Zhi flipped through a booklet endlessly. Jiang Nai’s take—female stars shone in skirts, and she wasn’t going neutral—meant he selected a few, pen in hand. Suddenly, it was snatched away.

Shi Cainran clutched the pen, her wrist trembling with force. Wordlessly, she slashed through those skirt options, shredding the pages. Amid stunned stares, she fixed on Jiang Nai, enunciating through gritted teeth: “I said, I don’t like skirts!”

Sang Zhi gently set Shi Cainran’s requested drink on the table by the window. She stepped rightward but not too far, taking an empty seat to keep distance from the mercurial diva.

Should she suggest to Jiang Nai that Shi Cainran see a therapist or something?

“Mm, someone is.” Xie Yingnian pictured that pitiful expression from moments ago—like she was some illicit lover hidden in a rental, unseen by the world. About to continue…

Shi Cainran cut in: “Girlfriend?”

“Qiao Yingqiu’s daughter?” She chuckled, the reflection in the grimy glass window showing only the top half of her face above the black mask. “Congrats, sis.”

“You can finally chase your own happiness. I’m thrilled for you.”

Sang Zhi listened, chills running down her spine. It didn’t sound like well-wishes at all.

What’s wrong with her? Isn’t that the sis you just publicly claimed? Why the shade… wait, holy crap, did I just overhear some juicy gossip? Xie Yingnian and Qiao Yingqiu’s daughter??? Made sense—she dated her roles, but mother and daughter? That’s next-level.

The bizarre call ended with Shi Cainran’s unilateral announcement, no consent sought: “I’ll visit your set next week. Come pick me up—or bring my new sis-in-law along.”

Sang Zhi bit her straw, rolling her eyes at Shi Cainran’s back. Next week’s schedule was set—another change? Not even famous yet and already this capricious.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet.

Zhong Jia struggled to find words. What to say, what to ask? She needed an opening from the other side; otherwise, barging in felt like an invasion of private space, which she hated experiencing herself.

Hoping to mull a better approach, but drained from acting, she dozed off in the warm car, exhaustion claiming her.

The sudden weight against her right shoulder snapped Xie Yingnian from her reverie. Jujiu: “Nian-jie, let Tiantian use your lap as a pillow. You never budge when she’s sleeping, scared you’ll wake her…”

Xie Yingnian: “So keep it down.”

“…”

Jujiu shut her mouth and hunkered down to flip through her porny comics.

The shoulder injury wasn’t that serious—just a broken bone from an old wound.

After several months of closed-set filming, the production team had kept everything under wraps. The news had been suppressed and hadn’t leaked out even now.

That year, she not only paid off all her debts but also bought a house and a car. The rift with Shi Cainran, mended bit by bit through her constant pandering, finally seemed on track to heal completely. Everything was unfolding in the direction she had longed for.

And yet, that same year, the wheel that had once crushed her life to pieces rolled over her again. Everything reverted to square one—worse than before.

Shi Cainran had said, “You can go find your own happiness now.”

Only her sister could grasp the unspoken implication: Your happiness is built on my body, scarred and ugly. Does that sit well with your conscience?

Seeking. Happiness.

Those two words were nothing but pipe dreams for Xie Yingnian. Her daze and reverie stemmed from one thing: moments ago, she hadn’t refuted it. Not out loud—and it wasn’t until she climbed into the car that the realization hit her. Even on a psychological level, she hadn’t rejected the notion.

Listening to Zhong Jia’s steady, even breathing, Xie Yingnian gazed out the car window at the city streets alive with the glow of everyday life. Flashing neon lights and lamps in countless homes seemed almost within arm’s reach.

The car pulled into the hotel’s underground garage. The driver parked and cut the engine, and Zhong Jia slowly stirred awake amid the motions, still groggy.

When the elevator reached the floor with their rooms, she rubbed her eyes. Xie Yingnian figured she would stumble in a daze toward her own guest room. But even half-asleep, the girl remembered their agreement to share a bed for a simple night’s rest. She trailed after Xie Yingnian and swiped the key card to enter.

“Shower first, or order some food?” Xie Yingnian asked as the door clicked shut.

Zhong Jia set both options aside for later and planted herself in front of Xie Yingnian, her earnest expression enough to make Xie Yingnian lower the phone she’d already opened to the delivery app.

“Xie Yingnian,” Zhong Jia said, “are you this nice to everyone?”

She gently encircled the other’s waist, drawing Xie Yingnian close. The corridor light cast a scattering of sparkles in the girl’s eyes. Tilting her head up, Zhong Jia pressed a kiss to Xie Yingnian’s cheek. “Can’t you be a little nicer to yourself?”

The back beneath her palm felt so slender, the heart it encased burning far too fiercely. Xie Yingnian fidgeted, curling her fingers awkwardly. She leaned into Zhong Jia’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Then be nicer to me?”

Zhong Jia nodded with vigorous force.

By now, things had veered further and further from Xie Yingnian’s initial intent to merely test the waters. Her fishing line had dangled over the river without a single scrap of bait before. But in this very moment, she itched to hook on the lure, cast the line far, and reel in a bountiful catch.

Before gaining a deep understanding of hereditary diseases, Xie Yingnian had dreamed of becoming a surgeon.

After her adoptive father died in a car crash, watching her adoptive mother struggle to keep the family afloat, Xie Yingnian’s dreams—great and small—yielded again and again to urgent survival needs. Things like the restaurant needing a quick-handed kitchen hand to cut costs, or her little sister’s dance lessons going unpaid month after month…

She didn’t mind Chang Xiaosui tagging her with a “people-pleasing personality.” In truth, she needed that label.

If Zhong Jia formed a similar misconception about her, then Shi Cainran had unwittingly done her a favor. After all, being seen as a total pushover was even more disarming than just seeming mildly harmless, wasn’t it?