Chapter 30: Gentleness Part 2

She had actually fallen asleep.

She stared blankly for a moment, then looked toward where Jiang Zhizhou had been lying.

No one was there.

The next second, someone emerged from the kitchen carrying two glasses of passionfruit juice.

“I saw some passionfruit juice in the kitchen, so I poured us a couple. Hope you don’t mind?” With that, she handed one glass to Jiang Qingmeng.

“Not at all.” Jiang Qingmeng took it and sipped, then pressed the remote to draw back the curtains. Sunlight streamed in. “Do you like this juice? If you do, I can have some sent over tonight.”

“Wrong.”

Jiang Qingmeng glanced at her, puzzled. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

Jiang Zhizhou replied calmly, “You should say, ‘If you like it, come over to my place for it from now on.'”

Jiang Qingmeng paused, then smiled faintly and went with it. “If you like it, come find me from now on.”

Jiang Zhizhou nodded with a soft “Mm,” allowing herself to savor this fleeting warmth and joy—though a trace of bitterness lingered in her heart.

Perhaps soon, she would have to take those words back.

The afternoon scenes were all dialogue-heavy, not too taxing physically.

By five-thirty, they had wrapped up for the day.

Jiang Qingmeng waited leisurely at the entrance to the film set for Jiang Zhizhou.

When she finally emerged, Jiang Qingmeng muttered under her breath, “You take forever to get your makeup off.”

Jiang Zhizhou gave a helpless smile. “My look is more complicated than yours.”

Jiang Qingmeng was in male disguise—light makeup, simple hair tied back, with a whole team attending to her—so removing it was a breeze. Jiang Zhizhou, as the second female lead in ancient costume, had an intricate hairstyle and scar makeup on the left side of her face, which took much longer to clean off.

She had sent the RV back with the driver and dismissed her team. Jiang Qingmeng drove a white Audi herself, taking Jiang Zhizhou back to the hotel.

In the car, Jiang Zhizhou pulled out her burner account and scrolled through Weibo for a bit. Suddenly, she spotted “Jianghe CP” at the bottom of the hot topics.

She tapped in and found a Super Topic. The cover was a comic-style image of two women kissing under fireworks.

Impressive. It had only been a day, and fanart was already popping up. Modern netizens sure worked fast.

Scrolling further, she saw their photos: the misaligned embrace under the fireworks, their chance eye contact at the opening ceremony, the tentative forehead touch in the hospital room.

Deeper in, oh—fanfiction had appeared too.

Jiang Zhizhou clicked on one—

【She was the gentle and pure rising star, her smiling eyes bending the world to her will, yet forever an enigma, with only one person ever truly stepping into her heart.

She was the aloof and stubborn struggling actress, once from wealth and now fallen into hardship, prickly to all but her, flashing smiles only for her, willing to spend a lifetime guarding that smile…】

Jiang Zhizhou: …

What was with all the “shes”? It was even more outrageous than Bai Momo’s script.

She scrolled a bit more and came across a long graphic with the text: “Hop in, let Qingmeng’s sweet dreams crush the star river—buckle up and weld that car door shut!”

Jiang Zhizhou tapped it—

【…That night, in the hotel room, the passion-overwhelmed Jiang Qingmeng pinned her down, breathing raggedly…】

Jiang Zhizhou: …

Netizens these days had quite the imagination.

She closed Weibo, pocketed her phone, and stopped looking at that nonsense.

Jianghe—Jiang Qingmeng and Shen Xinghe.

Even though Shen Xinghe was her now, it still left a sour taste. Deep down, she didn’t identify with the name “Shen Xinghe.”

She was Jiang Zhizhou, and only Jiang Zhizhou—the one and only in this world.

But right now, she couldn’t say that.

Not only couldn’t she admit it; she had to deny it.

Inside the car, Jiang Qingmeng noticed that she had stopped fiddling with her phone and spoke up. “What about the answer you promised yesterday?” She had waited all day, but Jiang Zhizhou had never brought it up on her own.

Jiang Zhizhou fell silent for a moment before saying, “I’m keeping something from you, and so are you. You’re investigating me.”

Jiang Qingmeng said softly, “Get to the point. Don’t repeat yesterday’s words.”

Jiang Zhizhou let out a sigh and said earnestly, “I know who you think I am, but I’m not that person in your mind. I get that people in our line of work start believing in superstitions after a while, but Qingmeng, you can’t take it that far, right?”

Her words cut like a knife straight to the heart, laced with mockery and leaving no room for turning back.

Jiang Qingmeng’s expression changed abruptly. She slammed on the brakes.

Jiang Zhizhou lurched forward, then crashed back against the seat.

Jiang Qingmeng turned to face her, her features stern and cold.

Jiang Zhizhou met her gaze without a word.

All the gentle masks had been stripped away. The soft words of the past were gone. For the first time, Jiang Zhizhou saw this face of hers: indifferent, ruthless, devoid of any smile.

Was this her true self?

Jiang Qingmeng looked at her, her thin lips parting to utter two words: “Get out.”

Jiang Zhizhou unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Before stepping out, she reminded Jiang Qingmeng, “Don’t drive too fast. It’s dangerous.”

Jiang Qingmeng didn’t spare her another glance. She started the car and sped off.

A moment later, the taillights flashed twice, and the car backed up.

Jiang Zhizhou thought she had come to her senses. Hope reignited in her dim eyes.

The window rolled down, and Jiang Qingmeng tossed out a phone and several hundred yuan before speeding away again.

Oh. The phone had been left in her car.

Jiang Zhizhou bent down to pick up the phone and money from the ground.

The film set was in the suburbs, and the road back to the hotel was desolate. In winter, night fell fast, and it was already pitch black.

Fortunately, Jiang Zhizhou had sharp eyesight and could still make out the path.

She tried several ride-hailing apps, but no drivers would accept her fare.

Jiang Zhizhou resigned herself to it. She opened her maps app and checked the walking time to the hotel: one hour.

Not bad. She could handle that.

At least she could be grateful she wasn’t some pampered young lady who couldn’t stand a little hardship.

Walking an hour on foot was no big deal—as long as it didn’t rain.

But this was the first time in her life she’d been thrown out of a car, and by the woman she loved, no less. The sense of grievance, bitterness, and humiliation bubbled up inside her, swelling until it filled her entire heart.

Jiang Zhizhou’s eyes reddened as she fought back tears.

Off set, she rarely cried. Even when her eyes welled up, she always held the tears in.

Memories flashed through her mind—

The twelve-year-old Jiang Qingmeng, huddled in the corner by the hospital bed, staring at her in silence; the twenty-year-old Jiang Qingmeng at the banquet, shyly calling her “Teacher Jiang”; after her rebirth, when she came to visit and cooked her a bowl of noodles—tears had slipped down her cheeks unbidden as she ate; their chance meeting in Hengdian, her gentle and sincere smile even as she pushed through filming with a pulled arm and raging fever, until her forehead burned hot and she collapsed into her arms; in the coffee shop, drawing her in to use her against Chen Yu and siphon off her resources; on the street, inviting her into the car, stroking her cheek, and gently asking if it hurt; on the practice field, guiding her through every martial arts move, drawn to her yet holding back; on the hotel balcony, holding her close and vowing never to hide from her again—she had agreed; in the fitting room, sinking her teeth into her wrist before tenderly cleaning the wound; today, telling her to rest in the car and, while she slept, carefully draping a blanket over her…

The memories flooded in, making the tip of her nose sting.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You can’t cry. Not over something this trivial. A muffled thunderclap suddenly boomed across the sky, followed by streaks of lightning.

Half a minute later, fat raindrops pelted her face.

Jiang Zhizhou wiped the rain from her face and pressed on.

Thunder roared and lightning cracked as the downpour soaked her to the bone. Her coat grew sodden, heavy, and cumbersome. In a fit of recklessness, Jiang Zhizhou shrugged it off and tossed it by the roadside, left wearing only a white sweater.

Drenched and shivering, the chill seeped into her very bones, draining the color from her lips.

A salty tang suddenly touched her mouth.

Jiang Zhizhou halted and touched her eyes.

Tears had spilled out at some point, mingling with the rain on her cheeks.

She had cried after all.

How pathetic.

Jiang Zhizhou choked back a sob, wiped the rain and tears from her face, and kept walking.

Lightning flashed again. Through the curtain of rain, Jiang Zhizhou spotted two blinding headlights.

A white Audi barreled through the storm toward her and pulled up in front.

Jiang Zhizhou stopped and stared at the windshield, its wipers sweeping back and forth.

Jiang Qingmeng opened the car door, stepped out from behind the wheel, and walked right up to Jiang Zhizhou.

Rain hammered down in sheets, pounding their faces so fiercely it was almost impossible to keep their eyes open.

Jiang Zhizhou couldn’t tell anymore whether the water streaming down her cheeks was rain or tears. She wiped her face once more, forcing her eyes wide to stare at the woman standing before her.

They stood there like opponents in a standoff, neither speaking a word as the deluge soaked them through.

A deafening thunderclap ripped through the sky.

Finally, Jiang Zhizhou shattered the silence. “What did you come back for? To laugh at me? Huh?”

Jiang Qingmeng didn’t reply. She simply gazed at her.

“Does a drowned rat amuse you?” Jiang Zhizhou burst into sudden laughter, scrubbing the tears and rain from her face. “If you’ve had your fill of the show, then get lost. You’ve got a shoot tomorrow. And when you get home tonight, have some ginger tea to keep from catching a cold.”

Jiang Qingmeng remained silent. She lifted a hand to brush the rain from her own face, her eyes slowly turning red.

Jiang Zhizhou peered into those eyes and frowned. “Why do you always cry like this? Don’t. Seeing you cry hurts me too.” She managed a smile afterward, but her voice cracked with emotion. “For me to even say something so pathetic right now—am I just a total glutton for punishment?” She sniffed hard and laughed again. “Pathetic or not, I have to tell you, Jiang Qingmeng—I like you. And you know exactly what kind of ‘like’ I mean by now, don’t you?”

Jiang Qingmeng’s eyes brimmed red as she ground out the words through clenched teeth. “But I don’t like you.”

“I know!” Jiang Zhizhou shouted back. “I know you don’t like me—but I still like you anyway.”

Jiang Qingmeng turned her gaze away, refusing to meet her eyes.

Jiang Zhizhou laughed. “What’s this? Now you’re the one dodging my stare? You told me I couldn’t hide from yours—so doesn’t that mean you can’t hide from mine either?”

In the relentless curtain of rain, Jiang Qingmeng shot her a venomous glare, her eyes sharp and frigid. Trembling, she spat, “Mind your own damn business! Who the hell do you think you are? You think you get to talk to me like that?”

The words struck like a dagger to the heart, echoing exactly what she’d said all those years ago at age twelve.

Jiang Zhizhou reacted just as she had at nineteen—falling silent for a moment before flashing a dismissive smile. But this time, unlike back then when she’d stormed off without a care, she gently wiped the rain and tears from Jiang Qingmeng’s face. Then she drew her into a tight embrace and murmured softly,

“Qingmeng, please don’t cry. It breaks my heart.”