Chapter 31: Liu Gan

The man was hanging his head low, smoking with one hand while jabbing heavily at the screen with the other, as if impatiently trying to call someone.

He repeated the motion four or five times until he finally set down his phone. His gaze casually flicked this way, and upon spotting Rebecca, he immediately straightened up.

Chu Susu’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Rebecca, but she didn’t make a sound. It was obvious this guy had a deep connection with her—otherwise, her expression wouldn’t be this awful.

Rebecca’s feet seemed nailed to the spot, her expression hesitant as she said softly, “Susu…”

“How about I drive?” Chu Susu offered considerately. The press conference was coming up soon; best not to waste time in the parking lot.

Rebecca looked relieved beyond measure. “Okay, thanks.”

Chu Susu’s car was parked at the other end of the lot. The two hurried off in the opposite direction, but the man wasn’t blind. Realizing this, he tossed his cigarette butt and chased after them.

Just as the two settled into the driver’s and passenger’s seats, the man ran up to the car window and knocked hard on it.

Only then did Chu Susu get a clear look at his face. He was utterly ordinary in looks and dress, even unkempt and slovenly—the kind of everyday guy you’d pass on the street.

Especially those eyes of his, staring fixedly as if scheming something, gleaming with malice.

He said something in a gruff, muffled voice, but with the window closed, they couldn’t make it out. Rebecca turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. “Susu, drive.”

Seeing Chu Susu start the engine, the man knocked even harder on the window, growing frantic. His shouts faintly filtered in.

“Feng Lidong! Don’t go!”

Only then did Chu Susu learn that Rebecca’s Chinese name was Feng Lidong. Everyone at the company used her English name, and she’d never mentioned it herself.

Being harassed like this in front of a subordinate was undoubtedly humiliating for Rebecca. She kept her face turned away, expressionless, and repeated, “Susu, drive.”

Chu Susu released the brake and hit the gas. The car shot out of the parking spot, startling the man. “Fuck your mom, Feng Lidong you bitch…”

The rest of his words were too vulgar to repeat, fading into the wind as the distance grew. In the rearview mirror, his figure shrank to a tiny dot, still standing there cursing.

Rebecca closed her eyes to rest. Only after they hit the main road did she sigh. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Chu Susu kept her eyes straight ahead. “No worries at all. How could anyone blame you for some crazy passerby latching on?”

That man clearly knew Rebecca; he wasn’t some random. By saying this, she was telling Rebecca she wouldn’t gossip.

“Thanks.” Rebecca’s voice carried a trace of gratitude. “I’ll make a call.”

Chu Susu had seen what happened earlier, so Rebecca didn’t bother hiding any words now.

“He showed up at my company.” Rebecca’s tone held thinly veiled anger. “Did you guys tell him?”

Whatever the other side said only made her lose control more. “Don’t you get it? He’s just here to mooch money off me! He’s a bottomless pit! Do you think money grows on trees for me? Why should I fill his hole?”

Worked up, Rebecca gasped for breath before viciously hanging up.

The usually decisive and efficient woman slowly leaned back, slumping fully into the seat, a hint of vulnerability showing.

Chu Susu couldn’t help recalling what she’d overheard outside Rebecca’s office before—”Didn’t I already give you money? Stop harassing me!”

Clearly, she was still troubled by the same issue.

Colleagues weren’t friends, let alone subordinates. Silence was golden, so Chu Susu said nothing and just drove.

Rebecca’s professionalism was top-notch. At the press venue, she carried out all the procedures with a composed face.

Chu Susu was mainly there to accompany her and didn’t need to do much. In her downtime, she could even play on her phone.

As various leaders took turns on stage, holding forth at length, she opened Weibo and browsed some news.

Every time she logged on, she inevitably thought of that blogger called Ursa Major again.

During National Day, the blogger had said they’d update, but after her trip, she’d been swamped with work and hadn’t checked.

Now, opening it up, sure enough, there were quite a few updates. The comments were full of praise for Ursa Major finally getting diligent.

She skipped the past daily horoscopes. With practiced ease, she found her own from the post released at midnight today—

[@BetaUrsaeMajoris: Don’t believe everything you hear; seeing is believing. The only way to discern truth from falsehood is to feel it with your own heart.]

She pondered this, thinking of Han Xuan, whom she’d been slightly distancing herself from lately. Han Xuan’s teary eyes surfaced in her mind.

It really was a shame, Chu Susu thought, a bit regretful. If only Han Xuan could just tell the truth.

As long as she wasn’t lied to, no matter what had happened in the past, she could accept it.

Unfortunately…

Her finger paused, and she accidentally tapped into the “DM” interface, landing in the chat with the blogger.

The blogger had an auto-reply set: “Welcome to private paid consultation. 10 yuan per question.”

Dirt cheap. Didn’t this blogger need to make a living?

On a whim, Chu Susu sent a red envelope over.

@Susu: “Hi, I have something I want to consult about…”

She summarized Han Xuan’s situation in a few vague sentences, saying only that she couldn’t accept a friend’s deception.

After a bit, Ursa Major replied.

@BetaUrsaeMajoris: “Got it, but what exactly do you want to ask? It seems like you’ve already made up your mind.”

Chu Susu stared at those words, stunned for a moment.

Only after sending it did she realize she’d treated the other like a tree hole. She didn’t really care about the consultation; she just wanted to vent.

After all, everyone online wore a mask. No one knew who was who, so talking felt freer than in real life.

Why was she so hung up on this? What outcome did she even want?

@BetaUrsaeMajoris: “I can only say, whether to trust your friend or not is entirely up to you, right?”

What did that mean?

@BetaUrsaeMajoris: “If you see her as a friend, you’ll forgive even her lies. If not, no amount of sincerity will change your mind.”

@Susu: “But sincerity is a crucial trait. I don’t care about anything else, as long as they don’t lie to me.”

@BetaUrsaeMajoris: “How do you know she’s definitely lying to you?”

@Susu: “Seeing is believing.”

@BetaUrsaeMajoris: “Truth stands out against falsehood. Why not hear what your friend has to say with your own ears? How else will you know which is real and which is fake?”

The paid consultation ended there. It felt less like a zodiac blogger’s “divination” and more like friendly advice.

Chu Susu read it over several times. Switching to WeChat, she saw an unread message from Han Xuan, asking if she wanted fried chicken cutlets for lunch tomorrow—she could make some.

She could almost see Han Xuan carefully editing each word, afraid of bothering her.

But Chu Susu’s finger hovered over the screen for a moment, nearly tapping the chat, yet in the end, she didn’t reply.

She’d once thrown caution to the wind, ignoring advice and blindly trusting others’ words.

Reality proved that hearts are separated by flesh; only fools hand over trust lightly.

Halfway through the press conference, rain started outside. The pattering drops hit the windows with “thuds,” like the roar of hail.

Per the forecast, the temperature had suddenly dropped to around 13 degrees, but luckily the venue’s AC was on warm.

The event dragged on for a full 7 hours, mostly leaders giving speeches—a pure face-saving exercise. When it finally ended, everyone was exhausted.

The organizers set up a group dinner afterward, but Chu Susu and Rebecca were mainly there on behalf of the client. Their company rarely dealt with media, so they skipped the dinner.

Rebecca’s car was still at the office. Chu Susu dropped her off and confirmed the harassing man was gone. She also described him to the parking lot security, telling them to chase him off if he showed up again.

With that done, she could clock out and drove straight home.

Recently, work had been too hectic with frequent meetings, so Chu Susu hadn’t brought Pipi to the office at all. Now, she was hurrying home to walk the dog.

But the rain was only getting heavier with no sign of letting up anytime soon. Moreover, the ground was pooled with thick layers of water that probably wouldn’t be cleared until tomorrow.

It looked like Pipi wouldn’t be able to go out and play today.

She soon arrived home, parked the car, and went upstairs. Just as she stepped out of the elevator and reached the hallway entrance, her footsteps suddenly halted.

Right next to her apartment door, a shadowy figure was squatting completely motionless. If not for Chu Susu’s sharp eyesight, she might have overlooked it entirely.

For some reason, the motion-sensor lights in the hallway hadn’t turned on, leaving everything pitch black. Though the environment was utterly silent, it sent chills down her spine.

This floor only had Chu Susu’s apartment. Her vigilance as a lone resident made her retreat two steps, her finger poised over the emergency call button, ready to alert the authorities at any moment.

At the same time, she switched on her flashlight and shone it forward, demanding sternly, “Who?”

The white beam spread out, illuminating the face of the person before her.

Drenched from head to toe, her black skirt clung tightly to her body. Her hair was soaked by the rain, clinging in wet strands that outlined her delicate facial features, still silently dripping water.

Han Xuan was squatting in the corner, hugging her knees. Hearing this, she slowly raised her head, her vacant eyes gazing toward her.