Ming Li didn’t know where this flare of irritation came from, but she crumpled the stiff card into a ball with one hand and tossed it into the trash.
How does she have the nerve to ask what our relationship is?
Was that look in Gu Qingshuang’s eyes earlier an inquiry? Displeasure? Or perhaps anger?
No, Gu Qingshuang wouldn’t be angry for her sake.
Gu Qingshuang was the pinnacle of emotional stability; she wouldn’t get angry over such a trivial matter.
But Ming Li was angry.
That one sentence, written in a sweeping, elegant hand, was laced with interrogation. But the fundamental issue was—why did she owe Gu Qingshuang an explanation?
Gu Qingshuang had brought someone herself, and it was Shen Lideng, of all people.
The person Ming Li least wanted to see.
It wasn’t because of Shen Lideng’s looks or her character; it was simply because so many people compared the two of them. That alone was enough to make Ming Li dislike her.
Ming Li’s expression was so grim that many people didn’t dare approach her. Some had originally intended to joke and ask who the flowers were from, but they thought better of it.
In the end, only Sun Xihan came over. Looking at the vibrant sunflowers, she asked, “From your ex-wife?”
“Yeah,” Ming Li grunted.
“What’s she playing at?” Sun Xihan said. “She didn’t show up once during the previous tour, but now that you’re divorced, she suddenly shows up to watch you perform.”
“Who knows,” Ming Li said. “Is the show about to start?”
“Yeah. Get ready.” Sun Xihan looked at the bouquet in Ming Li’s arms. Seeing that Ming Li had no intention of doing anything with them, she frowned. “Planning to keep them as a potted plant?”
Ming Li: “…No.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Sun Xihan snatched the bouquet from her arms and threw it directly into the trash can.
“Belated affection is worth less than weeds,” Sun Xihan remarked.
Ming Li looked at the flowers lying silently in the trash and sighed softly. “Let’s go.”
Gu Qingshuang stood outside the Jing’an Grand Theater for a long time. She hadn’t expected to run into Shen Lideng here.
“What a coincidence,” Shen Lideng said. “You’re here to watch, too?”
Gu Qingshuang gave a non-committal hum. She had no desire to talk; the scene she had just witnessed was still stuck in her mind, refuses to fade.
Ming Li standing with that woman… Ming Li waiting quietly for her to finish her call… Ming Li smiling so tenderly while talking to her.
There seemed to be an indescribable connection between the two.
Gu Qingshuang suddenly remembered Liu Siwang’s warning.
After Ming Li posted that update to her Moments, there was no telling how many people who previously had designs on her would make their move. After all, that post was a public declaration of her single status.
At the time, Gu Qingshuang hadn’t taken it seriously, but she hadn’t expected to see it with her own eyes so soon.
She’d had two surgeries today. After they were finished, she’d eaten a piece of bread to stave off hunger and overheard colleagues discussing the opening night of the second tour of Thorn Crown at the Jing’an Grand Theater.
Gu Qingshuang had searched for information online and saw Ming Li’s performance photos.
In the end, she bought a high-priced ticket from a scalper and came to the theater.
Gu Qingshuang hadn’t thought much of it; she simply felt that since she hadn’t been able to go the day Ming Li gave her the tickets, this could be a form of compensation.
More importantly, she just wanted to see Ming Li.
The scar on Gu Qingshuang’s hand had left a mark; it hadn’t healed. This was because she was an expert at tearing her own wounds open.
“There’s no one left out here.” Shen Lideng stood with her for a while before reminding her, “The dance drama is about to begin.”
Only then did Gu Qingshuang slowly withdraw her gaze. Her eyes felt a bit dry and sore. Shen Lideng handed her a bottle of eye drops from her bag. “Want some?”
“No thanks,” Gu Qingshuang refused.
Shen Lideng tilted her head to look at her. “You’re so formal when you talk to me.”
“How much closer should we be?” Gu Qingshuang said. “I’m doing this for your own good, Shen Lideng.”
“Ah. You’re actually calling me by my full name now.” Shen Lideng tsked. “Is there really no possibility left between us? Sister Shuang.”
“I told you, the moment you decided to leave, it became impossible,” Gu Qingshuang said.
“I could be your contract wife,” Shen Lideng proposed again. “Why won’t you consider it?”
Gu Qingshuang: “I think I’ve made myself very clear to you.”
“But I don’t understand,” Shen Lideng said. “How can someone as cold-blooded and detached as you be so hung up on Ming Li? Don’t tell me you actually fell in love?”
Gu Qingshuang: “…”
She didn’t want to talk about this. She especially didn’t want to talk about it with Shen Lideng.
Shen Lideng wore a smile from beginning to end, her speech unhurried. Her condition was much better than it had been a while ago, but her eyes were deeper, making it impossible to see what she was planning.
“Sister Shuang, do you even know how to love someone?” Shen Lideng smiled. “In your current state, are you even capable of it?”
“That has nothing to do with you,” Gu Qingshuang said.
Shen Lideng crossed her arms and walked toward the theater. “It has nothing to do with me, but I’m showing you the last shred of my conscience by caring about you, only to get a response like that. I’m truly heartbroken.”
Gu Qingshuang retorted, “I can’t tell.”
The two walked into the theater one after the other. Shen Lideng’s seat was a few rows behind Gu Qingshuang’s.
After finding her seat and sitting down, Shen Lideng stared at Gu Qingshuang’s back for a long time. She thought that the fate between people was truly strange.
In all these years, why hadn’t she ever fallen for Gu Qingshuang?
If she had fallen for Gu Qingshuang, perhaps none of this would be happening.
Shen Lideng thought that she was truly gifted at creating “Hell Mode” scenarios for her own life. She was simply destined to live unhappily.
Unable to die, unable to live well—that was likely the true summary of her life.
The dancers on stage were beautiful, especially Ming Li.
