Chapter 32: Nightmare (1)

“You vicious bitch! You destroyed me! Go die!”

His roar echoed through the air, igniting a wave of clamor and screams.

Jiang Qingmeng’s pupils dilated sharply. Instinctively, she shoved Jiang Zhizhou aside with every ounce of strength she had, desperate to avoid hurting her.

But that push made her miss the perfect chance to dodge.

Amid the rising chorus of screams, the man in black—Lin Mo—pounced on her. Her back slammed hard against the ground, and she let out a pained grunt.

Lin Mo’s face was twisted in rage as he raised the dagger and plunged it straight toward her face. “You bitch! You’re dying with me!”

He moved fast, but she was faster. Her left hand flew up to shield her face while her right hand clawed at the dirt, scooping up a handful and flinging it into his eyes.

The film set was out in the suburbs, a bare-bones setup without even paved bricks. After the recent downpour, the ground was soft and muddy—plenty to grab in one handful.

Blinded, Lin Mo lost his aim. He howled in agony as the blade stabbed into the earth just inches from Jiang Qingmeng’s head on the right side.

So close. She’d barely escaped.

With his strike missing, Feng Shangxian and Jiang Zhizhou lunged forward, wresting the dagger from his grip and yanking him away.

Once they had him off her, Jiang Zhizhou swung a fierce punch. Feng Shangxian, old but still spry, followed with a solid kick that sent Lin Mo sprawling to the ground.

The crew rushed in, Little Ai sprinting over in a panic.

Jiang Zhizhou tossed the dagger aside and hurried to help Jiang Qingmeng up.

The chaos around them drowned out their words. Jiang Qingmeng’s chest heaved as darkness pulsed in her vision, the world spinning. All she could fixate on was Lin Mo’s roar: “You’re dying with me!”

Dying together?

Ha.

Her scattered senses slowly returned. Familiar voices called out in concern, and a warm embrace cradled her back.

In the next instant, Jiang Qingmeng wrenched herself free from Jiang Zhizhou’s arms. She sat up, her face calm as still water—eerily so. She even let out a soft, unnatural laugh.

Struggling to her feet, she shook off the hands trying to steady her. She bent down, picked up a rock, strode over to Lin Mo, and knelt beside him. With brutal force, she smashed it into his nose bridge, then slapped him hard across both cheeks.

The man on the ground was pinned by bodyguards, his eyes bloodshot, blood gushing from his nose. He kept cursing. “You filthy slut! Drop dead! Rot in hell with me!”

Panting heavily, Jiang Qingmeng smashed the rock into his face again. She let out a low chuckle. “Dying together? I’ll kill you first, you worthless trash!” There was no fear in her eyes—only bloodshot veins and a manic thrill that could only be called excitement.

She snatched up the dagger from the dirt and raised it high over Lin Mo’s chest. But as she brought it down, a hand clamped onto her wrist.

Jiang Zhizhou gripped her tightly and threw herself into Jiang Qingmeng’s arms, hugging her with desperate strength.

That stab would have crossed the line into excessive force.

Jiang Qingmeng struggled to push her away but couldn’t budge her. In frustration, she sank her teeth into Jiang Zhizhou’s neck.

The sharp pain drew a muffled grunt from Jiang Zhizhou, but she didn’t let go. If anything, she held on tighter.

The bite lacked real force—it hadn’t even broken skin. Jiang Qingmeng’s whole body trembled, her teeth chattering. She couldn’t muster any real strength.

The stunned onlookers finally snapped out of it and rushed forward to pull them apart, pleading for calm. The bodyguards hauled Lin Mo away, terrified their deranged boss might actually plunge the knife into him.

Jiang Zhizhou patted her back gently, soothing her like a frightened child. “It’s okay… you’re safe… everything’s fine now…”

Jiang Qingmeng’s breathing steadied, clarity returning to her eyes. She released her bite and softly kissed the mark on Jiang Zhizhou’s neck. Whispering in her ear, she said, “I’m okay now.” Then she pushed out of the embrace, stood up, and bowed to the crowd. “Thank you all for your concern. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’m fine.” She was her usual picture of grace and poise, not a trace of her earlier frenzy remaining.

After an ordeal like that, losing control was perfectly understandable. Most ordinary girls would have broken down screaming or sobbing. Few would stay dry-eyed like Jiang Qingmeng, let alone go feral and try to fight back with a knife.

The crew’s gazes held a touch of unease, though they murmured comforts all the same.

Jiang Qingmeng’s team sprang into efficient action: sealing off leaks, monitoring public opinion, greasing the right palms.

Every eyewitness on set pocketed a hefty sum to keep quiet.

By the time the police arrived, statements were taken, and everything wrapped up, it was nearing dawn.

Feng Shangxian gave Jiang Qingmeng two days off to rest and recover her nerves.

She said one day was enough—and gave the other to Jiang Zhizhou.

Back from the station, Jiang Qingmeng didn’t return to the hotel. She locked herself in the RV, refusing to see anyone.

Little Ai dragged Jiang Zhizhou over and ushered her into her boss’s vehicle before tending to the rest.

Observers see more clearly. As Jiang Qingmeng’s special assistant, Little Ai had a keen grasp of her boss’s mindset most of the time.

Miss Shen held a very special place in her boss’s heart—sending her in to keep her company was sure to hit the mark.

The RV was completely blacked out, not a single light on, plunged into darkness.

Jiang Zhizhou closed her eyes to let them adjust for a good while before opening them and feeling her way to the living room from memory.

There, Jiang Qingmeng sat curled up on the sofa, knees hugged to her chest, eyes glued to the TV. The screen played a familiar animated series: Pokémon.

That posture of hers suddenly reminded Jiang Zhizhou of her at age twelve—delicate and fragile.

At twelve, her mother had wanted to take her with her into death.

Jiang Qingmeng noticed Jiang Zhizhou’s arrival. Her amber eyes fixed on her for several seconds before she spoke. “Passion fruit juice is in the kitchen. Pour yourself some.”

Jiang Zhizhou went to the kitchen and poured two glasses—one for herself, one for Jiang Qingmeng.

Jiang Qingmeng had just showered and wore a loosely tied white bathrobe, the belt knotted carelessly. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, still beaded with water droplets.

Jiang Zhizhou leaned down to meet her eyes and asked in the softest whisper, “Where’s the hairdryer?” Her voice was so gentle, as if the slightest raise might shatter the woman before her.

Jiang Qingmeng pointed to the cabinet diagonally to her right. “First drawer on that side.”

Jiang Zhizhou grabbed a towel, gently patted the moisture from her hair, then picked up the hairdryer and began blow-drying it for her.

The hairdryer hummed a bit loudly, so Jiang Qingmeng snatched the remote and cranked up the TV volume.

On the screen, a squat yellow mouse chattered “Pika pika!” nonstop. It nearly made Jiang Zhizhou laugh, but she held it in, biting her lip in silence, her eyes shimmering.

Jiang Qingmeng shot her a glare. “Laugh if you want to.”

Jiang Zhizhou let out a sudden snort of laughter and ruffled her hair. “You’re adorable.”

Moments ago, she’d been howling for blood; now here she was, huddled on the sofa watching cartoons.

Jiang Qingmeng curled her lip in a cold smirk. “Isn’t your little sister Mei Ying even more adorable?”

Jiang Zhizhou ducked her head with a smile, her voice tender. “Not as adorable as you.”

“How could that be? She’s pure and innocent—I’m a venomous viper—”

Jiang Zhizhou cut in. “You’re still the adorable one.”

“She’s kind and clean—I’ve done nothing but evil—”

“You’re the most adorable.”

Jiang Qingmeng opened her mouth to argue further, but Jiang Zhizhou flicked off the hairdryer, set it aside, leaned in close, and pressed her lips to Jiang Qingmeng’s, silencing her. A moment later, she drew back and murmured tenderly, “I love you.”

Jiang Qingmeng’s lips twitched again, and Jiang Zhizhou brushed them lightly, like a dragonfly skimming water. “In the whole world, you’re the only one I love.”

Jiang Qingmeng finally clamped her mouth shut, lips pursed in silence.

After a long pause, she mumbled, “I said it wouldn’t happen again…”

Jiang Zhizhou patted her head lightly and resumed blow-drying. “I forgot by accident. Starting tomorrow, it really won’t happen again.”

Right now, Jiang Zhizhou had no fame, no wealth, no power, no influence—practically nothing. All she could do was pour her actions and words into giving Jiang Qingmeng the utmost security and sincerest love in her moments of deepest vulnerability, holding nothing back.

Once Jiang Qingmeng’s hair was dry, Jiang Zhizhou moved to put the hairdryer away. But as she rose, the woman on the sofa yanked her hard, pulling her straight into her arms to land squarely on her lap.

Jiang Qingmeng wrapped her arms around Jiang Zhizhou and undid the top button of her collar.

Cool fingertips trailed up her neck, raising a shiver of goosebumps.

If anyone else had tried such antics, Jiang Zhizhou would’ve slapped them silly by now.

But this was Jiang Qingmeng. So she simply endured it, leaning back trustingly into her embrace.

Jiang Qingmeng’s hand drifted to the skin she’d bitten the night before—no broken skin, just a faint tooth mark.

Jiang Zhizhou whispered, “You didn’t bite hard last night. No need to worry.”

“Who’s worried about you?” Jiang Qingmeng shot back softly. She stopped tracing the mark and instead pressed one palm to Jiang Zhizhou’s neck for warmth, the other idly stroking her delicate collarbone.

Jiang Zhizhou hissed softly, her head tilting back a fraction as their bodies pressed even closer.

Jiang Qingmeng wore only that loose white bathrobe, thin and sheer, her soft curves molding against Jiang Zhizhou’s back.

Jiang Zhizhou’s ears burned; her whole body was heating up. She clenched her fist in mock threat. “I’m counting to five. If you don’t let go, I’ll break the rule and kiss you again. Five, four, three, two—”

She hit two, and Jiang Qingmeng released her.

Jiang Zhizhou scrambled off her lap, snatched the hairdryer from the floor, and stowed it back in place.

Jiang Zhizhou took a deep breath to steady her emotions, then turned around and asked Jiang Qingmeng, “I’m hungry. Come eat something with me. What do you want? A sandwich? Salad? Noodles? Or something else?”

She didn’t ask if Qingmeng was hungry herself. She simply offered her choices.

Qingmeng hadn’t eaten a thing since last night. She had to be starving.

“When did you learn to make sandwiches and salads?” Qingmeng asked. “Didn’t you only know how to boil instant noodles?”

“I picked it up,” Zhizhou replied. “Learning has no limits.”

“Oh, let’s go with noodles then. It’s simple, and there are still a few boxes of instant noodles in the kitchen. Boil whatever flavor you like.”

Jiang Zhizhou headed to the kitchen and rummaged out two packs of braised beef ramen. She also pulled eggs, bacon, ham sausages, and greens from the fridge.

The kitchen was sparsely equipped, with only a rice cooker and an egg boiler.

Zhizhou first added half a pot of water to the rice cooker’s inner pot. While waiting for it to boil, she sliced the bacon and ham on the cutting board and chopped the greens into segments. She also boiled two eggs in the egg boiler.

Once the water boiled, she added the noodle bricks and seasoning packets. As the noodles loosened, she tossed in the bacon and ham slices. When they were about eighty percent cooked, she blanched the greens. She then fished all the ingredients out of the pot, boiled the peeled and halved eggs in the noodle broth for a quick roll to infuse them with flavor, and finally placed them atop the noodles.

When she set the bowls on the dining table, Zhizhou teased, “After downing this bowl, you’ll probably need to spend a few days at the gym this week.”

The camera added ten pounds, and female actors had to strictly control their weight during shoots—either by eating less or hitting the gym.

Jiang Qingmeng eyed the bowl of noodles, fragrant and perfectly presented, and offered a tactful compliment. “Whoever marries you someday is going to be one lucky person.” As the words left her lips, an unexpected pang of bitterness stirred in her heart.

Who would marry her?

Would that gentleness of hers someday be bestowed on someone else?