It was just a single post, yet it felt like something had been scraped off the tip of her heart. The summer night was silent. The AC unit droned loudly from outside. From Tan Zhenzhen’s room came a sudden burst of loud laughter—no idea what she was watching.
Qu An’ge grabbed Xu Mi’s hand. “Mimi, you… you won’t leave me, will you?”
Xu Mi looked up at her. She keenly detected a hint of anxiety in Qu An’ge.
How strange. In the past, she’d never seen that emotion in Qu An’ge before.
Come to think of it, it made sense. Qu An’ge had been beautiful since childhood, had a happy family, did okay in school. She was the darling of her elders, the goddess in her classmates’ eyes. She was the center of attention wherever she went. Growing up like that, she’d probably never tasted bitterness for even a moment—except maybe getting spanked by her mom for failing a test as a kid.
But in showbiz…
Xu Mi thought of Bei Tian.
That girl was only eighteen, already famous, held high on a pedestal. Just as beautiful and exquisite, flawless on the outside, like a porcelain doll.
Qu An’ge must have hit some walls in the entertainment industry. It wasn’t Qu An’ge’s fault. It was just that this circle was too harsh, so harsh it had caused such a drastic change in Qu An’ge.
She was even feeling insecure now. Could she then also understand the kind of cutting pain Xu Mi had felt?
Thinking this, Xu Mi felt a flash of vengeful pleasure, but more so, she felt heartache. She frowned slightly, reached up, and gently stroked Qu An’ge’s face, saying nothing. Getting no reply, Qu An’ge inevitably grew nervous and started to speak. Xu Mi pressed her fingers to Qu An’ge’s lips, whispering, “Don’t argue here. The soundproofing is terrible.”
The faint fragrance on her fingers snaked into Qu An’ge’s nose like a serpent, igniting the desire already smoldering within. Qu An’ge grabbed Xu Mi’s hand, wrapped her arms tightly around Xu Mi’s waist, and pulled her close. She leaned down. Hot breaths mingled, lips and teeth met. This was the longest kiss they’d shared since the day of Rebirth, thickening the very air around them, until a cellphone rang.
Qu An’ge jolted as if waking from a dream. It took a moment to realize it was her phone.
She glanced at the screen, her expression darkening with disgust. She saw Zhou Yue’s name.
Using the opportunity, Xu Mi staggered back, breath ragged, and fled directly to the room. Qu An’ge was helpless, and could only answer the phone. Her tone was terrible, voice low and heavy. “What do you want?”
Zhou Yue said, “Did you really write that song?”
Qu An’ge snapped, “You called me in the middle of the night for this?”
Her tone was extremely harsh. Zhou Yue, who’d phoned excitedly because his artist had gotten famous on her own merit, had his mood instantly blackened. But suspecting Qu An’ge might have a backer, he suppressed his anger. “Just checking in on you. Your profile is very high right now. Don’t say anything stupid. Also, eating spare rib soup this late? Aren’t you afraid of getting disgustingly fat…”
Qu An’ge interrupted impatiently, “If that’s all, I’m hanging up. I want to sleep.”
Zhou Yue said, “Go ahead and hang up, then. If you don’t want the contract for Ming Palace Flower.”
Qu An’ge hadn’t expected that. She choked, then said, “It’s confirmed already? So fast.”
Zhou Yue said, “I don’t know what blind luck you stumbled into, but the director seems to fancy you quite a bit. Where do you live? I’ll bring the script and contract over tomorrow.”
Qu An’ge was popular now, and might have a backing. Zhou Yue didn’t want their relationship to be too sour. He planned to smooth things over tomorrow, share a meal.
Qu An’ge didn’t want Zhou Yue coming over. “Just leave it at the company. I’ll go pick it up. That’s it. I’ll be at the office tomorrow.”
Saying that, she hung up.
Hearing the dead line, Zhou Yue hurled his phone onto the sofa in a rage. It took him a long while to calm down. Feeling something was off, he called Zeng Xuejia. “Xuejia? Yeah, listen, the script and contract for Ming Palace Flower are here. I want to give them to An’ge, but she isn’t answering her phone. Give me her current address, will you?”
Zeng Xuejia said happily, “Really?!”
Feeling vicariously delighted, and without a second thought, she gave him the address. Zhou Yue noted it down. He frowned inwardly. The address was an old residential community—not the kind of place you’d expect a rich backer to stash a kept lover.
But then again, rich people sometimes had quirky tastes.
He filed the address away. Early the next morning, he set out from home toward the address Zeng Xuejia gave. He thought to himself, Qu An’ge normally sleeps till noon on her days off. If I go now, I’ll definitely corner her at home.
But in reality, Qu An’ge had just left the apartment too.
When she’d gone back to the bedroom last night, Xu Mi was lying on her side, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Qu An’ge figured it was an act, but had no recourse, so she just went to sleep herself.
Early to bed meant early to rise. Especially since Qu An’ge’s routine had already become quite disciplined later in life. The next morning, she did some light stretching, then went for a jog around the block. When she returned, she brought soy milk and fried dough sticks from downstairs for Xu Mi’s breakfast. The moment she stepped inside, she saw Xu Mi yawning as she came out of the bedroom. Qu An’ge couldn’t resist a pointed remark. “Didn’t you go to bed pretty early last night?”
Xu Mi said expressionlessly, “You snore. I couldn’t sleep.”
Qu An’ge turned pale with shock. “Are you serious?!”
Xu Mi smiled enigmatically, saying nothing. Of course Qu An’ge didn’t snore. But if she said Qu An’ge snored, who could prove otherwise?
Thoroughly crushed by this statement, Qu An’ge went out looking utterly dejected. Before leaving, she mentioned she was going to the company to pick up a contract and script. Xu Mi, riding high on yesterday’s successful dish that had earned unanimous praise, was even more fired up today. Having spent the night with her eyes closed but unable to sleep, she’d simply started brainstorming what other bones were available besides spare ribs. She finally settled on braised lamb chops.
So, not long after Qu An’ge left, she headed out too. Buying various spices took some time. When she got home, an hour and a half had passed. Just as she reached her building, she saw a message from Tan Zhenzhen: 【Qu An’ge’s agent is here.】
Xu Mi raised an eyebrow. Thinking of how Qu An’ge never had a kind word for her agent, she hated him by association. But now that he was already inside, and Tan Zhenzhen had admitted Qu An’ge lived there, there was nothing to be done.
Going upstairs, she stepped inside and saw a sleek-haired, powdered-faced man sitting on their sofa with a look of disgust.
He was probably wearing makeup, but it was too hot outside, and the AC wasn’t on in the apartment. The foundation was starting to melt, leaving blotchy white marks on his skin. As Xu Mi entered, he turned his head. Seeing Xu Mi, he said with a face full of irritation, “Is Qu An’ge still not back?”
Xu Mi said, “You’re here to drop off the script and contract, right? Just leave them on the table. When Qu An’ge gets back, I’ll let her know.”
Zhou Yue’s expression suddenly turned thoughtful. He looked Xu Mi up and down. “You’re…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but Xu Mi already guessed. Zhou Yue also felt there was no need to elaborate. Ever since Qu An’ge told him she actually had a girlfriend, Zhou Yue had wondered what kind of person she’d be. He figured someone as flighty as Qu An’ge would need a steady partner. And upon meeting her today, she was indeed steady—so steady it was almost gloomy.
But she was quite pretty.
Thinking this, he rolled his eyes, then suddenly felt something was off.
Wait a minute. Qu An’ge is living with a girlfriend. So who’s her backer?
Had he… been bluffed?
Looking at the living environment again, it seemed even less like a “kept lover” situation. Zhou Yue suppressed a surge of anger and asked, “How many people live here?”
Xu Mi ignored him, not wanting to talk. Tan Zhenzhen, ever good-natured, answered, “Four people. I mean, there are three rooms.”
Zhou Yue said, “And here I thought Qu An’ge had grown a backbone. Why is she still living in such a shabby place?”
Tan Zhenzhen got upset too. “What do you mean ‘shabby’? We all live here honorably by our own efforts. Who are you to say that?”
“Ha, honorably…” Zhou Yue let out a sarcastic laugh. Leaning back on the sofa and crossing his legs, he scanned the room. “Qu An’ge’s tough, I’ll give her that, being able to endure such hardship. But no matter how tough, can you at least turn on the AC in the middle of summer?” He was fuming, and his words dripped with venomous sarcasm.
Tan Zhenzhen couldn’t be bothered with him and went into the kitchen to help Xu Mi take photos. Seeing this, Zhou Yue asked, “What’s with the photos? Logging everything for posterity? Not easy, being a cripple.”
Tan Zhenzhen glared back at him, then turned and muttered under her breath, “Who is this guy? Qu An’ge’s agent is like this? He’s sick… God, it really is hot. Even though I want to turn on the AC, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”
Xu Mi took the lamb chops out of the bag. She’d asked for the freshest ones. They’d just been cut, still carrying fresh blood, slightly coagulated. She rinsed them under the tap. Realizing the pot wasn’t big enough, she drained them and placed them on the chopping board, preparing to cut them into smaller sections.
She landed two chops with the cleaver. Zhou Yue’s voice rang out again: “So noisy. Don’t your neighbors complain about you disturbing them? In broad daylight?”
Tan Zhenzhen retorted defiantly, “It’s already ten. What’s weird about chopping vegetables?”
Too noisy. Cooking was supposed to be a joy. Why was everything so aggravating today? A vein throbbed faintly on Xu Mi’s temple. On the next downward chop, she misjudged the angle. Thunk. Flesh and bits of bone splattered upward, landing on her face.
The sound was so loud it startled Tan Zhenzhen and Zhou Yue into silence. Three seconds passed. Just as Zhou Yue was about to speak, Xu Mi turned around.
She was frowning slightly. Her skin, pale as white paper, made her dark brows and eyes stand out even more starkly. But those dark eyes revealed little emotion, like the placid surface of a deep well. Well water is like that—it’s living water, but it looks stagnant, like dead water.
That excessively pallid face was now dotted with specks of blood. She wore a butter-yellow apron, now stained with even more blood—some fresh, some dried, in a mottled mess. In her right hand hung a massive bone-chopping cleaver, snaking trails of fresh blood winding down its blade.
The words Zhou Yue was about to say died in his throat. His mind went completely, utterly blank for a moment.
Xu Mi spoke softly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Wrong angle. It’s like that when you’re breaking down bones. Find the right spot, and it cuts clean. Miss it, and you make a mess…”
She paused, then added, “I suppose that’s the same for all bones, isn’t it…”
Her voice was feather-light, as if she were musing on something profound.
Hehehe