Was this a level of shamelessness humanly achievable?
The thought popped into Xu Mi’s mind.
She looked from the phone to Qu An’ge, astonished that she could do such a thing. This was unimaginable based on what Xu Mi knew of Qu An’ge. It was as if she had become a different person entirely—could just half a year in the entertainment industry change someone this much?
Too shocked, Xu Mi couldn’t speak for a moment. Her pupils just quivered, her vision unfocused. Qu An’ge, after reposting, looked at her own account. The username was “Let’s Get Married Tomorrow”; besides that, it had absolutely no information. It looked just like a bot account. But people in 2012 probably wouldn’t think of that, would they?
Still, to be safe, she took a picture of the scenery outside the train window and posted it: —【Going to get married~】
Having done this, she put away her phone and looked at Xu Mi, finally catching the complex expression on her face. Qu An’ge immediately smiled, blinking with an innocent expression. “What’s wrong?”
Xu Mi debated internally for a long time but ultimately said nothing, just shaking her head. “Nothing.”
Qu An’ge had indeed changed a lot, but to say she was a completely different person? Not really. At least, Xu Mi could feel those familiar traces, those details proving this person was indeed Qu An’ge—not possessed by some ghost.
She was silent, but Qu An’ge clung to her again. Waking from sleep, she was now bursting with energy. She pressed close to Xu Mi and said, “Let me help you sign up for a Weibo account.”
“No need,” Xu Mi refused.
Qu An’ge said, “Just sign up. You can share your cooking on it. Then thousands of people could see the delicious food you make.”
“No need. It’s just home cooking.”
“But it’s better than restaurants.”
Xu Mi had leaned as far back against the window as possible with nowhere left to retreat. Qu An’ge was draped bonelessly over her. Xu Mi noticed people in the seats ahead and behind constantly glancing at them. She felt embarrassed. She took out her phone and said, “I’ll do it myself.”
She used her phone number to follow the registration steps. When she reached the name field, she hesitated. Qu An’ge said, “Let’s get matching couple names. My name is ‘Let’s Get Married Tomorrow’. You could be ‘Married Tomorrow’, how about it?”
Xu Mi didn’t speak, lowering her head in thought.
Qu An’ge continued, “Then what about ‘We’re Married Now’? ‘Let’s Get Married Tomorrow’? ‘Married Together Today’?”
Xu Mi felt her head buzzing. The word “marry” echoed endlessly in her ears; she couldn’t form any other thoughts. Acting on sudden impulse, she typed “Xu Mi” directly. But upon choosing the character for “Mi,” she hesitated and finally selected the one meaning “honey.” The name became “Honey Xu.”
She confirmed it.
Thus, a new, blank Weibo account was born in the online world, with a scenic landscape as the avatar and the name “Honey Xu.”
How strange. Just changing one character made it sound so much sweeter and more endearing than her own name. She stared, dazed. Qu An’ge, beside her, mumbled, “That’s basically your real name… Ah, forget it. You probably won’t post any nonsense anyway. Using your real name is fine.”
Xu Mi put her phone away and said, “Alright, I’ve signed up. Can I have some peace now?”
Qu An’ge said, “But you didn’t match couple names with me…”
Before she could finish, Qu An’ge noticed Xu Mi glaring at her with icy eyes, clearly at the limits of her patience. She quickly shut up, sat upright against her own seat, and fell silent, eyes forward, nose straight.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. Qu An’ge glanced at it; someone had reposted her message.
Qu An’ge stayed quiet the rest of the high-speed rail journey. Not only because she realized Xu Mi was about to snap, but also because ever since she’d made that repost, people kept reposting her message. Everyone clearly found her comment very apt. Though just a few words, it perfectly captured their feelings. As reposts grew, she was pushed onto the popular feed. Qu An’ge started scrolling her phone intently. She found people had posted a more detailed video on a forum and a video site. Although the video was noisy, some were still saying she sang beautifully. Others asked what song it was. The comments all said they’d never heard it before. Thus, everyone concluded she wasn’t just beautiful—she was a talented girl, having composed such a catchy song.
This assessment made Qu An’ge feel deeply uneasy. Never mind whether claiming this song as her own was shameful or not—what if, by accepting this “talented girl” label, someone asked her to write the next song?
Anyone with any musical literacy who met her would likely quickly discover she only had a superficial understanding of music. It would be exposed immediately.
Even Qu An’ge was too embarrassed to read these comments seriously. So she focused purely on those praising her looks. Someone had taken clearer pictures. In the photos, she wore no makeup, tears shimmering, chin slightly lifted—a beautiful kind of clear, fragile prettiness. In her previous life, Qu An’ge had walked the glamorous “queen” route. Now, discovering this look worked too, she mused that being young certainly allowed for more versatility.
When they exited the station, Qu An’ge received another call from Zhou Yue. Seeing Zhou Yue’s number, she knew the other likely had found out about her trending online. She hung up directly, checked the time, and said, “Time’s a bit tight. Let’s take a taxi.”
Xu Mi pretended not to hear and headed straight for the bus station. Qu An’ge said, “If we take the bus, we won’t make it today.”
Xu Mi said, “Then maybe another time.”
Qu An’ge wrapped an arm around Xu Mi’s. “Baobei, please.”
Xu Mi glared sideways at her. Qu An’ge deftly changed the address. “Please, Mimi. I can’t wait another minute.”
Xu Mi’s face revealed nothing, but inside, her heart was in chaos. She couldn’t lie to herself; the truth was, she also wanted to marry Qu An’ge. Yet, she faintly sensed something was wrong. Her mind conjured memories from the past six months—the frequent arguments on the phone, the cold wars. Seeing the breakup text, Xu Mi hadn’t even been surprised. Instead, a thought had surfaced: “So it finally came.”
When had this 180-degree turn happened?
Seemingly overnight?
While Xu Mi was lost in thought, Qu An’ge seized the opportunity to drag her towards the taxi stand. Xu Mi suddenly grabbed Qu An’ge’s hand. “I have a question…”
Her palm was slick with fine sweat, damp and clammy. The heat surged upward, spreading across every inch of skin, making it hard to breathe, as if trapped in a sauna. Xu Mi was suddenly transported back to last summer. Qu An’ge had just found her first modeling job. Xu Mi had ridden her electric scooter to drop her off at the magazine modeling agency’s building for an interview. She’d waited downstairs. It was a similarly steamy summer day. She’d been completely oblivious to what the future held, hugging an ice-cold cola. Qu An’ge had come bounding down the building’s steps, skipping like a rabbit to Xu Mi’s side, and cried, “I passed!”
Xu Mi had smiled. “Congratulations.”
When exactly had that cloudless, perfect summer day passed? Why, in the blink of an eye, could she no longer truly trust Qu An’ge anymore?
She swallowed hard, throat bobbing. She stared at Qu An’ge, who was squinting slightly in the sunlight, looking at her quizzically. She finally spoke—
“Do you still want to join showbiz?”
