Chapter 55: A Face Like Guanyin

The afternoon sun blazed fiercely. In a momentary daze, the ground outside the window seemed warped and twisted by the scorching heat.

Xie Yingnian emerged from the department store and blended into the hazy golden air. She crossed the street alongside pedestrians waiting at the traffic light, heading toward the café where Cui Ming waited.

Someone lightly knocked on the door of the private booth. The server entered in response. “Your coffee. Please enjoy.”

The woman with slightly bloodshot eyes gave a faint nod. “Thank you.”

Peering out from under the eaves, Cui Ming could no longer spot Xie Yingnian’s figure. She withdrew her gaze as the server placed another cup of coffee across from her, offered a smile, and departed. The door clicked shut once more.

The hospital where Cui Ming worked was just nearby—a five-minute walk away. She had a habit of coming here during her lunch break for coffee, to shake off her fatigue before returning to her duties. She used the time her colleagues spent napping to enrich herself instead. Privately, they nicknamed her the Grind King. Whenever they spotted her in the cafeteria, they would cough conspicuously and scatter.

She had never cared about the gossip or the backstabbing remarks from all sides. As the child of a mistress, raised by a single mother, they had clung to each other like duckweed in the alleyways. She’d heard too many ugly words growing up; without that kind of endurance, survival would have been impossible.

She glanced at her watch. Five and a half minutes had passed since she’d entered the café. Normally, she’d be wrapping up and preparing to leave by now.

Cui Ming had a habit of dividing her day into precise blocks, calculating the cost of every task with scientific accuracy. She minimized the chances of errors, ensuring she always operated at peak efficiency and quality.

People often described her as a machine, and she found the assessment quite apt. She was satisfied with it.

That held true even today, when she was forced to spend her precious time on idle chatter. She regretted discovering that her species hadn’t evolved in the slightest—she remained a pitiful human, still troubled by mundane affairs.

There was a more fitting term for the social exchange about to unfold than “chatting,” but she couldn’t yet bring herself to connect a word like “confession” to her own life.

The same hands that had wielded a scalpel that morning to achieve a technical breakthrough for the hospital now stirred her coffee cup. Cui Ming silently counted down from three to one, propping her chin in her hand. Without surprise, she heard Xie Yingnian’s voice announcing her arrival.

Xie Yingnian slid her sunglasses down her nose and glanced at Cui Ming’s outfit. She took a seat and skipped the pleasantries. “Why aren’t you wearing your white coat, Doctor Cui?”

Cui Ming’s chiffon blouse had its sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Though tall, she had a slender frame, her narrow arms laid across the table.

She rarely exuded any softness. Her brand of cold detachment differed from Xie Yingnian’s—it gave the impression of someone utterly uninteresting at first glance. That was why the blind dates her mother set her up with could guess from her looks alone that she was either a doctor or a researcher.

“Bacteria are everywhere. It’s filthy. Probably only doctors in novels wear their white coats off-duty for style points. Oh, and maybe in TV dramas too. In that case, the duty of educating the scriptwriters falls to you.”

Cui Ming lifted her coffee for a sip. The café’s decor leaned toward the trendy influencer aesthetic. She glanced at the TV on the wall playing a variety show. The girl hadn’t appeared yet, but the hot push notifications had already informed everyone—including her—that Xie Yingnian had gotten together with Qiao Yingqiu’s daughter.

She addressed her friend, now entangled in scandal. “You must be very busy yourself, so I’ll get straight to the point…”

“Let me guess.” Xie Yingnian cut her off and named a person.

Whether right or wrong, it was written in the subtle smile tugging at Cui Ming’s lips. They weren’t lovers, nor was there any potential for that. Still, having a soulmate like Xie Yingnian was nice—perfectly in sync, utterly compatible in certain ways.

It would be even better if the woman weren’t ill. Cui Ming recalled the previous week, when she’d gone to Ni Qian for something and overheard a cluster of interns gossiping in a corner. Shi Cainran—that girl—wasn’t sick? Then why had she lived in a mental hospital before? For fun?

A dreadful suspicion stirred in her heart, one she didn’t want to verify. For the first time, weariness tinged the woman’s features as her gaze settled on Xie Yingnian’s face.

Cui Ming couldn’t help but reminisce.

Memory sharpened those old events into vivid clarity. Before she’d connected with her stepfather in the medical trade, during those years with her birth mother in the alleyways, Xie Yingnian had been the good child and big sister in the neighbors’ eyes—sensible, obedient, and an excellent student.

Shi Cainran had stuck to her big sister like a shadow. At the same time, Xie Yingnian had doted on her without reservation. From their relationship or emotional bond, this younger sister—who was several years her junior—perfectly fit the profile of an intimate who might trigger her episodes.

When had the masquerade begun? After her first breakdown… or much earlier?

The people-pleasing personality others saw might have been nothing more than a carefully crafted smokescreen. In the end, she’d even fooled me.

Cui Ming had thought as much for a long time now: Xie Yingnian wasn’t just any dangerous individual. The woman was intelligent and composed, resilient like a weed. She’d clawed her way from utter ruin to a glamorous life—powerful, nearly impossible to topple.

She also knew exactly how to avoid plummeting from on high, like most patients discarded to fend for themselves in a sanatorium.

She actively sought salvation. She turned to professional doctors for help. But that didn’t make her harmless.

On the contrary, the person who appeared the most normal had simply hidden her fangs and claws, blending seamlessly into the crowd. She was a bomb waiting to detonate at any moment—utterly undefended against, dying without ever knowing how. The thought alone made one’s scalp tingle.

She even frequented temples and monasteries, cultivating an air of purity and detachment. Xie Yingnian, you truly have the face of Guanyin and the heart of a viper.

On the variety show, Zhong Jia made her entrance. She didn’t look like the easily duped type. Cui Ming offered her a sympathetic glance through the screen.

Selfishness ran in the family line, inherited from her mother. Her own affairs always trumped any concern for Xie Yingnian. Cui Ming leaned back in her chair, signaling to herself to relax. That person’s influence on her wasn’t that profound. After all, absent for over thirty years, “father” was merely a biologically indispensable title.

“Yesterday, at an external exchange event, he saw me and recognized me right away…”

Cui Ming recounted the events in a flat tone. Xie Yingnian listened attentively, nodding occasionally or murmuring agreement. As an actress, she was skilled at reading expressions. Her experiences as a patient had taught her the basics of psychological counseling without formal training, so she knew precisely when to say what.

From her understanding of Cui Ming, Xie Yingnian figured the other woman would get past this hurdle more easily than most. Her worries had little to do with melodramatic family drama. Instead, she took an unexpected angle, inquiring whether the wife of this titan in the medical world was still alive.

“After all these years, I hope she’s made some progress and realized that an affair takes two to tango. She shouldn’t have directed all her ire at my mother back then.”

Xie Yingnian raised an eyebrow. “Are you standing up for Auntie?”

Her tone was light and joking. Cui Ming played along with a chuckle. “Thanks for calling me filial, but in my heart, I’m always the most important one.”

No matter his fame as a birth father, he couldn’t control his lower half—or his ferocious wife.

Too many women took men too seriously. Professor Cui had been the one painting promises and writing checks to lure his student into bed, yet under his wife’s fierce protection, he’d become the victim in the narrative. Mrs. Cui had once hounded the mistress like a pariah, despised by all. Now, she could scheme to drive the mistress’s child out of the capital—or even the country.

That was the reality of their world. Cui Ming knew well that until she achieved utter perfection, no amount of accolades would make her truly irreplaceable.

“Thanks to a busy person like you for making time to hear me out. Now, let’s talk about you. How have you been lately?” Cui Ming finished her last sip of coffee and exhaled softly. Rather than wallowing in bitterness, she shifted the topic—a sign she’d already readjusted her mindset with remarkable speed.

Xie Yingnian had anticipated this breeziness but detected the impure motives behind Cui Ming’s question. She smiled. “How have I been? In what way?”

The woman nodded toward the TV behind her. “Dating? With someone so young.”

Xie Yingnian didn’t turn her head. She listened to Zhong Jia’s somewhat languid singing voice and could picture her gripping the microphone—fully immersed during upbeat songs, turning the two-hundred-seat studio into the vibe of an arena concert; for ballads, she half-closed her eyes, her enunciation a touch slurred, her voice lowered to a hazy murmur.

This was the third episode of the music variety show, the first round of eliminations. They claimed no script, but there was a general direction. Zhong Jia had been edited into a big bad wolf, drawing massive attention and anticipation since the premiere.

Her little girlfriend was far too career-driven, especially with her passions. In her downtime, she’d dash upstairs to the second floor, surrounded by instruments, playing and singing to her heart’s content, lost in the moment.

Xie Yingnian said, “I can take care of you.”

To make up for lost credits, Zhong Jia had enrolled in summer classes, shuttling between the school recording studio until she was bleary-eyed and dazed. She let out an “ah” and rubbed her eyes, interpreting the offer as dissatisfaction with her busyness. “The show’s recording wraps up by late September. Then comes the movie promo tour. We’ll have plenty of time together.”

Zhong Jia lay in Xie Yingnian’s arms, the movie’s progress bar inching along. The plot felt utterly unfamiliar. Only then did she realize she’d apparently dozed off earlier.

“Mm, sorry. We finally get to see each other.” She scratched at Xie Yingnian’s chin, her eyes curving into smiles as she apologized.

Should she press further?

Xie Yingnian saw no need. She hadn’t phrased it as a question from the start. If she had to seek Zhong Jia’s permission for everything, that carefully prepared room would never welcome its owner.

“You sound surprised.” Xie Yingnian looked radiant, her body restored to its former vigor. She wore a basic white T-shirt paired with a cotton-linen half-skirt. In Cui Ming’s eyes, even this gentle fabric seemed like a mask clinging to her skin.

Cui Ming shrugged. “After all, you’ve never dated anyone this young. She’s a whole generation younger than me, right? Besides… I thought you’d choose silence like before.”

She wasn’t one to share her private life. Her Weibo served purely as a promotional tool, never featuring anyone else—Zhong Jia was the sole exception. Xie Yingnian had bluntly countered the media’s exposé of their three-day cohabitation with a single photo of them together, captioned simply “My Girl.”

Words like special, unique, exception… they could easily dazzle anyone, but when the subject was Xie Yingnian, Cui Ming only felt a chill run down her spine.

A faint sob from Zhong Jia drifted from the television. She hadn’t sung well this time; she’d tried breaking through with a different style, but her body was unwell, her throat inflamed from overuse and propped up only by numbing injections.

Xie Yingnian had been in Shanghai at the time, attending a seminar for her next film project, unable to stay by her side.

The tears seemed far less entertaining when not shed right in front of her.

Distracted by a surge of longing, Xie Yingnian messaged Zhong Jia, asking if she wanted to be picked up.

Zhong Jia replied quickly: Still recording, probably not until evening.

Xie Yingnian paused mid-typing, silent for several seconds, then darkened the screen and looked up. “Because I arranged the media coverage. I want to possess her every moment of the day.”

Before today’s recording, during the pre-show interview, they’d announced the next performance format: duets. Zhong Jia had been paired with Pu Chu, and the two had practically been living in the recording studio practice room all week.

“Tiantian, one more time?” Pu Chu had a small face, her smile reminiscent of a certain Japanese actress. She sat at the piano bench, glancing at her teammate.

The room’s air conditioning wasn’t set too low, but Zhong Jia still shrugged into an outer jacket. Barefaced and without lipstick, she looked more fragile compared to Kong Can in the movie trailer.

She held the lyrics sheet in her hand. After dyeing her hair black, she’d added blue highlights to the tips, which fell across her chest as she squatted down, brushing over the silver necklace Xie Yingnian had given her.

“Sure, let me find the version we revised yesterday.”

“After this take, shall we go grab some milk tea?”

“Sure, sure!”

…

Their voices mingled with static from a poor connection, zzzzzt-zzzzzt—

At a crossroad, just beyond the waiting line, Xie Yingnian propped her head on her hand, her expression calm as she watched the red light countdown. White earphones were plugged into her ears, connected to the miniature recorder hidden in the necklace, capturing everything happening around Zhong Jia in real time for her.