Liu Siwang watched her back for a long time. Hanxing watched her, too.
When Chun Liuyi returned, they reshot the entire sequence in a single, perfect, fluid take.
As Liang Xuan turned to leave, the clerk’s eyes shimmered with tears. Just as Liu Siwang was about to call “Cut,” a large tear rolled down Hanxing’s cheek.
Liu Siwang remained silent, watching the reaction.
Hanxing immediately looked down and wiped the tear away, her movements frantic and fearful. Yet, she couldn’t help but look up again at the departing Liang Xuan.
She knew that the only connection between them was now gone. This was their final meeting, and once again, she was the one left watching the other’s back.
Hanxing handled every aspect of the role perfectly, including the final tear and the act of wiping it away. None of it was in the original script, but Liu Siwang kept the performance.
In a voice so low it was unclear if she was speaking to Ming Li or herself, Liu Siwang whispered, “Emotive actors truly have no upper limit.”
Every detail was so precise that even someone like Liu Siwang—who had experienced unrequited love but had forgotten the specific sting of it—felt a sudden jolt of recognition. It reminded her of her own youth.
Ming Li immediately stepped forward to wrap Hanxing in her down jacket.
…
That night, Ming Li drove Hanxing home.
Worried about Hanxing’s state of mind, Ming Li decided to stay the night.
In the middle of the night, while drifting in and out of sleep, Ming Li heard Hanxing on the phone. Her voice was agitated. Ming Li sat up, intending to knock on the door, but stopped when she heard Hanxing growl, “Why is it impossible between us?! You’re prejudiced, Chun Liuyi!”
Ming Li lowered her hand. She shouldn’t interfere in matters of the heart. Especially not a love triangle.
She had seen Liu Siwang’s blatant possessiveness that evening. A gentle blade was the deadliest of all. The entire scene had been nothing more than Liu Siwang’s way of testing Chun Liuyi.
Ming Li sent Hanxing a text: [Get some sleep.]
Late night was no time for emotional talks; it only led to arguments and sorrow.
A moment later, Hanxing replied: [Mn.]
It was a clipped response, meaning Hanxing was in a terrible mood.
Before falling back asleep, Ming Li couldn’t help but wonder: Why was love always so agonizing, yet people still pursued it so relentlessly?
She certainly didn’t dare to right now.
***
As the end of the month approached, Gu Mengdie’s engagement ceremony drew near.
Lately, the most common topic at the dinner table was who Gu Qingshuang would bring as her date.
Qingshuang claimed she couldn’t find a female companion on such short notice and certainly wouldn’t bring a man, but Gu Xueqiang insisted she “rent” one if she had to.
After being pestered one too many times, Qingshuang finally snapped one morning. “It’s not like I’m picking out cabbage at the market. You think I can just have one because I want one? Why can’t you accept the fact that I am alone?”
“It’s not that I can’t accept it,” Gu Xueqiang explained. “It’s that this family cannot accept it.”
“Is it a shameful thing if I don’t bring a date?” Qingshuang asked, exasperated. “Who made that rule?”
“You should be considering remarriage anyway,” Gu Xueqiang said. “Or adopting a child.”
Qingshuang: “…”
She was even more confused. “And where did that rule come from?”
“You’re at an age where you should naturally consider these things. I was going to suggest it to both of you—having you and Ming Li raise two children like Aunt Ying does, to make the house more lively,” Gu Xueqiang said. “I didn’t expect you to divorce. So, I thought, if you can’t find a new wife, you can raise two children on your own.”
Qingshuang: “…”
“Your body is currently at the optimal stage for having children,” Gu Xueqiang said calmly. “I’d like two girls, like Gu An and Gu Le.”
Qingshuang’s confusion deepened. “Why are you so obsessed with this?!”
Gu Xueqiang offered a thin smile. “I wanted to see if raising two children like you would drive a person to an early grave.”
Used to being insulted in such a roundabout way, Qingshuang sighed. “I’m not considering it. If you want children so badly, you can go to the orphanage yourself. I won’t mind.”
Gu Xueqiang’s smile vanished. She turned solemn. “I am being serious, Gu Qingshuang. Grandmother’s health is declining. Your uncle is watching us like a hawk. After the incident with Gu Fei, there’s been a rift between Grandmother and your uncle, but Grandmother is also wary of me because of your divorce. It’s still uncertain who will inherit the Gu Group. You don’t have to marry right now, but you must have someone you are seeing.”
Elder Madam Gu was unwilling to hand power to Gu Zhengbo because of his poor character and mediocre ability. However, he had two decent daughters, especially Gu Mengdie, who was ruthless and capable.
In contrast, while Gu Xueqiang’s abilities were acceptable, she had no successor.
Gu Qingshuang’s recent success in the company had given Gu Xueqiang more leverage, but Qingshuang refused to give up her work at the hospital. Sometimes she would pull all-nighters just to maintain both jobs.
Gu Xueqiang felt a flicker of pity, but at this critical juncture, Qingshuang couldn’t afford to be the weak link.
“I won’t do it,” Qingshuang said coldly.
Gu Xueqiang didn’t give her the option to refuse. “I’ve already made an appointment for you tomorrow evening with the daughter of the Zhou family. She’s a fashion designer and very beautiful. You’ll like her.”
“I just got divorced. Aren’t you going to give me time to recover?” Qingshuang asked with a frown.
Gu Xueqiang took it as a matter of course. “Don’t you dislike Ming Li?”
Qingshuang: “…”
“Only a heartbreak needs time to recover,” Gu Xueqiang said. “This isn’t a heartbreak for you.”
Qingshuang remained silent for a long time before standing up and walking away with a cold face.
After work that day, Qingshuang didn’t want to go home. She stopped at a bookstore and bought a book titled How to Fall in Love in Three Minutes!
