Chapter 31: Growing Distant

Neck to neck, they nestled close.

Jiang Zhizhou held Jiang Qingmeng tightly, patting her back soothingly, one gentle stroke at a time.

The girl in her arms trembled all over from silent sobs, never letting out a sound. Jiang Zhizhou remembered how much she’d cried as a child—one box of tissues had barely been enough to wipe away her tears.

Rain poured down on them without mercy, icy droplets sliding from their faces to their necks and seeping into their clothes.

Jiang Zhizhou was already drenched to the bone, her lips turning purple from the cold. Jiang Qingmeng’s jacket was waterproof to a degree, so not much rain had soaked through yet, but if it kept up, she’d be just as wet soon enough.

Jiang Zhizhou released her embrace and tugged Jiang Qingmeng toward the back seat, stuffing her inside. Then she rummaged in the trunk for a towel and a thin blanket. She tried to dry Qingmeng’s damp hair, but the girl dodged away, snatched the towel, and wiped her own face before pointing at the blanket. “Dry yourself off too.” She cranked the car heater to maximum and added, “There’s a down jacket in here. Put it on.”

Jiang Zhizhou wiped the rain from her face and said, “Close your eyes.”

Jiang Qingmeng grabbed a scarf from the front seat and blindfolded herself.

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Zhizhou stripped off her sodden top, dried her body with the blanket, and slipped into Qingmeng’s down jacket.

“All done.”

Jiang Qingmeng pulled off the scarf and opened her eyes. She saw Zhizhou hauling out her medical kit from the trunk. “What are you doing? Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

Jiang Zhizhou shook her head. “The rainwater’s filthy. That cut on your face needs cleaning to avoid infection.”

“I’m not that fragile,” Jiang Qingmeng said.

Jiang Zhizhou didn’t respond. She opened the kit on her own, soaked a cotton swab in alcohol, and carefully dabbed at the scratch near Qingmeng’s temple.

This was the person she cherished more than anything—no detail could be overlooked.

Jiang Qingmeng met her deep, tender gaze, the affection impossible to hide. She fell silent, letting Zhizhou tend to the wound.

There are three things in this world that can’t be hidden: poverty, a cough, and love.

True love always shows through.

Once the wound was cleaned, they sat together in the back seat, toweling off their hair.

After a long silence, Jiang Qingmeng spoke. “Why do you like me?”

Lots of girls asked that question, and Jiang Zhizhou knew the stock answer was supposed to be “Because you’re special.” Girls in their late teens or early twenties always wanted to believe they were one of a kind.

But Jiang Zhizhou didn’t answer. Instead, she turned the question back. “Then why don’t you like me?”

“Why should I?” Jiang Qingmeng replied coldly.

The words stung, but Jiang Zhizhou was too optimistic and self-assured to be hurt deeply. She lowered her head in silence for a moment, then looked up with a smile. “You’re just saying that. You like me a little, don’t you? Come on, if you like me, just say it outright. Don’t make me guess every time.”

Jiang Qingmeng turned away. “You’re so shameless.” She climbed back into the driver’s seat, started the car, and headed for the hotel.

Jiang Zhizhou smiled to herself at the rebuke.

See? She hadn’t denied it. There was definitely a little fondness there.

This girl was the same as when she was little—tsundere to the core. Back then, when Zhizhou had embroidered a signature for her on the Little Bear, she’d clearly loved it but insisted, “It’s so ugly.”

So cute.

The night scenery blurred past the windows. In the back seat, Jiang Zhizhou gazed at the fogged-up glass, and with a girlish impulse, traced a heart on it with her finger. “Qingmeng,” she called softly.

No response.

“Jiang Qingmeng,” she said, using her full name.

“What?” Jiang Qingmeng snapped, irritated.

Jiang Zhizhou asked gently, “Why are you so contrary?”

“None of your business!” Her voice was soft, but her tone was fierce.

Soft yet sharp—a perfect contradiction.

Jiang Zhizhou laughed again.

She loved this side of Qingmeng: the mask of politeness stripped away, raw and vibrant, utterly captivating.

This was how a twenty-year-old girl should be—a touch willful, a touch self-centered, a touch awkward. She shouldn’t be too mature, too considerate. Girls who were overly understanding at this age had surely faced too many rebuffs, turning them so sensitive.

They didn’t speak again. The car was too quiet, so Jiang Zhizhou softly hummed a tune.

“Getting close to you, holding you tight,

I can’t believe this stroke of luck came out of the blue.

Kissing you, it stirs something special inside,

I prayed we’d be together, side by side,

Yet doubts always lingered in my mind.

Now, somehow, I don’t pull away.

I’m not really insecure,

I care about you so much.

The joy you give me,

I’ll treasure it carefully…”

Why do I like you?

Because it’s you—the gentle you, the contrary you, the contradictory you, the bad-tempered you. Every version of you, I want to hold close, to offer up all my tenderness with these hands, just for you.

Finally, back at the hotel and just before getting out of the car, Jiang Zhizhou said to her, “Qingmeng, could you stop treating me like someone else? I told you, all that happened yesterday is dead and gone, just like yesterday itself. What’s happening today is a fresh start. The me standing before you right now is just me—a living, breathing person.”

Jiang Qingmeng didn’t look at her. She didn’t respond.

Jiang Zhizhou watched her and smiled faintly. “Jiang Qingmeng, let me reintroduce myself.”

With that, she got out of the car.

She was Jiang Zhizhou, but she could never go back to being the nineteen-year-old version of herself. At her age now, she could never capture the essence of Jingzhe and Lu Shuang from those teenage years.

That night, the Lot Interpreter had told her, “Miss Jiang is gifted and destined for great achievements, but she must endure hardships and receive patronage from influential figures before fame and fortune come her way. Yet in the end, her twilight will not match her dawn.”

“You don’t need to know who I am, nor do you need to ask how I know your identity. All that matters is that I can save you.”

“The way of heaven demands balance—gain comes with loss. Heavenly secrets must not be divulged, lest it bring harm to yourself and others, leading to a tragic end.”

“Believe my words or don’t. If fate wills it, we’ll meet again.”

The Interpreter had told her to bury every trace of her past as Jiang Zhizhou and never speak of that identity again.

Fine, she wouldn’t mention it. She refused to live in the shadow of her former self or serve as a stand-in for her nineteen-year-old self. She only wanted to move forward.

The next day, Little Ai didn’t invite her to ride in Jiang Qingmeng’s car as usual.

Jiang Zhizhou didn’t mind. She cheerfully joined the Production Crew on the crowded shuttle bus to the film set.

Sun Li assumed they had argued again and couldn’t resist gossiping. Jiang Zhizhou, in an uncharacteristically good mood, explained patiently, “There’s never been anything special between her and me. We were just rehearsing scripts together the other day.” Script reading was the ultimate excuse in the industry.

Sun Li nodded along, not entirely buying it, then whispered, “So, are you a P or a T?”

“What?”

“Come on, you know—top or bottom?”

Jiang Zhizhou had no real experience and was stumped for a moment.

Seeing her hesitation, Sun Li slapped her thigh. “I get it, sis. No worries. It’s fine if you’re a bottom—nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Jiang Zhizhou fell silent. Her fellow actress had quite the imagination.

That day, she and Jiang Qingmeng had no scenes together, so their paths barely crossed.

That evening, when Jiang Qingmeng returned to the hotel, Little Ai reported what Sun Li had gleaned: “Sun Li said Miss Shen spent the whole day on set. She didn’t go anywhere with anyone or have any unusual conversations. Mostly, she was alone in a corner reviewing her script and memorizing lines. She zoned out a few times, staring at her wrist. Oh, and she said Miss Shen admitted—very bashfully—that she’s a bottom. She wanted me to confirm if it’s true.”

Jiang Qingmeng listened with a furrowed brow and then instructed, “From now on, don’t have anyone watch her anymore. And stop reporting anything about her to me.”

Little Ai nodded obediently. She stole a glance at her boss, noting the dark circles under her eyes had deepened, and couldn’t help feeling concerned. “Did you have another sleepless night?”

Jiang Qingmeng nodded.

Little Ai grew anxious. “Boss, please don’t increase your sleeping pills on your own. You have to talk to the doctor first.” The last time her boss had overdosed, she’d ended up in the hospital.

“I know. Don’t worry.”

She wouldn’t take her own life. Some people needed to die before she did.

With her interactions with Jiang Qingmeng dwindling, Jiang Zhizhou finally tasted the longing she had once craved day and night.

Workdays became the moments she anticipated most each day, offering fleeting glimpses of Jiang Qingmeng, their gazes occasionally meeting by chance.

At night, without seeing her, idle moments filled her thoughts with questions—what was she doing? Was she happy?

When she realized her mind was wholly consumed by Jiang Qingmeng, Jiang Zhizhou would try to distract herself: hitting the hotel gym, swimming in the pool, watching movies and taking notes, or sifting through scripts sent by her junior agent Zhao Yuan. Anything to keep busy.

Busyness kept the aching yearning at bay.

Of course, she always hoped for a chance encounter whenever she stepped out—after all, they were staying in the same hotel.

It never happened. Not once.

In her dreams at night, though, they always met. As the saying went: what filled her days haunted her nights.

She endured like this for a week.

One evening a week later, the Nine Songs Crew climbed back to second place on the hot search charts.

The top spot was claimed by “Lin Mo’s Domestic Violence, Cheating, and Hookups.”

The scandal was self-evident at a glance.

Two years ago, Lin Mo had been all the rage. If this had broken back then, a horde of rabid fans would have rushed to defend him—

“Domestic violence doesn’t happen without two sides! That woman must have done something unforgivable to my brother first, pushing him to his limit!”

“That woman scammed my brother’s money and heart! She deserved it!”

“Cheating? He just made the same mistake every man in the world is prone to!”

“Hooking up? It’s consensual between adults—a normal need. What’s there to criticize?”

Two years later, Lin Mo was being dragged through the mud online. A small handful of fans tried to control the narrative with their comments, but they were quickly drowned out by the professional trolls hired by Jiang Qingmeng. Public opinion swung overwhelmingly against him, with netizens piling on, demanding that the domestic abuser get out of the entertainment industry.

The Nine Songs production crew posted an official notice, declaring they would not work with a tainted artist. They terminated Lin Mo’s contract and demanded compensation for the breach. With tempers still running high, netizens cheered the move, insisting that scumbags like him deserved to be blacklisted.

No one understood the sting of online mob justice better than Jiang Zhizhou.

Mei Ying noticed Jiang Zhizhou staring blankly at her phone and asked, “Sister Xinghe, what’s got you so lost in thought?”

Tonight, Jiang Zhizhou and Jiang Qingmeng had night shoots, so the other actors had already wrapped up and were heading out. The makeup room was nearly empty, with just a couple of people lingering. Mei Ying had come over to chat with Jiang Zhizhou.

Jiang Zhizhou pocketed her phone. “Nothing, really. I just remembered a saying: ‘When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you.’”

Mei Ying tilted her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The dragon-slaying hero can turn into the evil dragon. Yesterday’s abuser might become today’s victim—and yesterday’s victim might become today’s abuser.”

Mei Ying nodded, half understanding. “I don’t totally get it, but you sure know a lot.”

Jiang Zhizhou gave a faint smile. “Just scraps of wisdom I’ve picked up from others.”

“That’s still pretty impressive.”

The little girl was fresh to the industry, pure and adorable in her innocence. Jiang Zhizhou enjoyed chatting with her and sharing some insider tips on how things worked in the business. Over time, the girl had started looking at her with wide-eyed admiration.

Unbeknownst to them, Jiang Qingmeng had appeared at the makeup room door, arms crossed, watching the two of them with a cold stare.

Mei Ying spotted her and waved enthusiastically.

Jiang Zhizhou noticed her too and immediately picked up on the chill in her expression. She guessed that Jiang Qingmeng had overheard their conversation and gotten the wrong idea.

Eager to clear things up, Jiang Zhizhou hurried to explain. “Those words were about certain netizens.”

Not you.

Jiang Qingmeng didn’t even glance her way. Instead, she turned to Mei Ying. “Little Mei, come touch up my makeup.”

Seeing the tension flicker across Jiang Zhizhou’s face, Jiang Qingmeng lowered her eyes and curled her lips in a mocking smirk. “Relax. I won’t hurt your precious little sister.” With that, she turned and walked inside.

Jiang Zhizhou: …

That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. She’d only been worried about a misunderstanding.

Mei Ying patted her shoulder. “Sister, have you two been fighting? You haven’t talked much lately, except when you’re acting.”

Jiang Zhizhou touched her nose awkwardly. “Something like that. You’d better head in—don’t want her getting upset later.”

“She never gets upset. Sister Qingmeng’s always been good to me.” Mei Ying giggled. “But yeah, I shouldn’t keep her waiting. See you!”

All-night shoots were par for the course with night scenes, so Jiang Zhizhou prepared herself for the long haul. She brewed a cup of coffee and settled in at the film set to watch Jiang Qingmeng work.

The actors and crew without night scenes had already cleared out early, leaving the set half-empty.

“Cut! That’s a wrap!”

The next scene was between Jiang Qingmeng and Jiang Zhizhou. Director Feng called them over to run through the blocking.

As they were discussing, a figure in black clothes and a black cap burst out from the side, lunging at Jiang Qingmeng with a dagger raised high. He screamed hysterically, “You vicious bitch! You ruined my life! Die!”