She suddenly thought of Ming Li. She wasn’t begging for a reconciliation or anything like that; she wouldn’t dream of dragging Ming Li into her boring, miserable life. She just wanted to steal a little bit of color from her.
And so, she had called Ming Li to ask for lunch.
Gu Qingshuang guessed that Ming Li would refuse, but she had gone anyway, thick-skinned.
Even she hadn’t expected she could be so shameless.
What was the difference between this and being a stalker?
Gu Qingshuang had always despised people who couldn’t let go.
A relationship should end cleanly. That was why she had made the greatest concessions to finalize the divorce when her attempts to save the marriage failed.
But now, every night, she lived as a walking contradiction, caught between regret and relief.
Gu Qingshuang had spent a long time mentally preparing herself today. She told herself it was just because she was nervous about tomorrow—that she wasn’t going to look for her every day, so a one-time thing was allowed. After all, after tomorrow, she would become someone despised by everyone.
Just for today, she would simply eat at the next table.
As she sat there, she occasionally heard Zhu Hanxing and Ming Li discussing her. There were several moments of awkwardness where she almost couldn’t stay, but she used eating to mask her discomfort.
In the end, she looked at the leftovers and realized she alone had eaten as much as Zhu Hanxing and Ming Li combined.
This one meal was equal to the amount she had eaten over the previous three days.
Gu Qingshuang sat there with a frown, wishing she could find a reason to hide and skip tomorrow entirely.
Just thinking about it was terrifying.
She couldn’t even imagine the scene.
She almost wanted to tell Liu Siwang and invite her to watch, then laugh and say, “Can you write a plot like this? You could never have imagined this.”
Life was the most humorous comedy.
Unfortunately, it was a dark one.
Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was a young woman who asked with a bright smile, “Excuse me, would you like to be a star? I’m from Bright Pearl Entertainment…”
Before she could finish, Gu Qingshuang felt a sudden surge in her throat. She stood up and ran to the public restroom behind her, ducking into the nearest stall to retch.
Everything she had eaten for lunch came back up, eventually mixed with blood.
Gu Qingshuang hit the flush. With the rush of clear water, everything vanished.
It was as if that lunch had never happened.
After she finished, she wiped her face with cold water, wetting several strands of hair in the process.
When she came out of the restroom, she wasn’t sure which way to go. The girl from before was still there, asking with concern, “Are you pregnant?”
Gu Qingshuang: “…”
“No,” Gu Qingshuang replied coldly.
The girl immediately brightened up again. “Well, as I was saying, I’m a talent scout! I want to recruit you to be an artist at our company. What do you think?”
Gu Qingshuang: “…”
A very direct pitch.
Gu Qingshuang naturally didn’t agree, but she asked, “You’re a scout, so you know about celebrities, right?”
“Of course.” The girl patted her chest. “I have my finger on the pulse of the entertainment industry.”
“Then do you know any dirt on Zhu Hanxing?” Gu Qingshuang asked.
The girl: “…? Are you an anti-fan?”
“Not yet,” Gu Qingshuang said. “But I will be soon.”
The girl: “…”
The girl looked at her with extreme suspicion as she left, her eyes filled with a pity that clearly said, Such a shame she’s beautiful but insane.
Gu Qingshuang didn’t care.
She simply thought that if she had dirt on Zhu Hanxing, then the next time this happened, she could use it to threaten her into staying away from their meetings!
When that thought crossed her mind, Gu Qingshuang suddenly laughed out loud while sitting on the bench.
The cold wind was piercing, making her eyes sting and bringing tears to them.
She tilted her head back, letting the tears flow from the corners of her eyes.
Lately, she found herself wanting to cry for no reason.
…
No matter how much Gu Qingshuang dreaded it, tomorrow was coming.
And the night before it arrived was exceptionally difficult.
Especially when Liu Siwang sent her a message: [Is tomorrow his funeral?]
Gu Qingshuang was incredulous. She didn’t know how she had found out. [?]
Liu Siwang sent her a photo of a black invitation with white text. Compared to the invitation for the grandmother’s funeral, this one was shoddily made.
It looked like a cheap template bought from a roadside print shop—a clear sign that the host didn’t care.
Liu Siwang asked: [Is he dead?]
The usually polite Liu Siwang didn’t even bother using the word “passed away.” She used the bluntest term possible.
Gu Qingshuang hesitated before replying: [Not yet.]*
This time, it was Liu Siwang’s turn to send a question mark.
Earlier today, Gu Qingshuang had been trying to think of how to explain this to Liu Siwang in a way that sounded humorous—something that would make them both laugh rather than worry.
She had rehearsed it in her head for a long time, but now that Liu Siwang was actually asking, even through a screen, she couldn’t say it.
This sort of thing couldn’t be dissolved with humor.
Besides, she wasn’t a comedian. She couldn’t express pain through jokes.
Gu Qingshuang typed and deleted, her fingers shaking so much she couldn’t send a single word.
Finally, Liu Siwang lost patience and called her, demanding to know what was going on.
Gu Qingshuang let out a soft breath and gave the answer she had rehearsed: “I hate him, so I want him to repent before he dies. Only then can I let it go. He agreed.”
“What does that even mean?” Liu Siwang asked.
Gu Qingshuang felt like she was suffocating, but her voice remained cold. “Was I not clear enough?”
“Why would he agree? Who holds a funeral before they’re even dead?” Liu Siwang’s voice grew louder.
“Because I’m his most beloved daughter,” Gu Qingshuang said. “I threatened to kill myself if he didn’t do it.”
There was a long silence on the other end. Gu Qingshuang closed her eyes. Perhaps because she had cried so much during the day, she had no tears left.
That was fine. Tomorrow, at Gu Liufu’s funeral, she could face all the accusations with a expressionless face.
The infamy that Gu Xueqiang couldn’t bear, she would take on.
Her life was already ruined, anyway.
Gu Qingshuang was prepared for the backlash. Today was just Liu Siwang giving her a preview. She could take it.
Unexpectedly, two minutes later, Liu Siwang said gently, “You’re a terrible actress.”
Gu Qingshuang froze. Liu Siwang continued, “Gu Qingshuang, your voice is shaking. You don’t have the heart to do something like that.”
Just as Gu Qingshuang was about to argue, Liu Siwang added calmly, “It’s your mother again, isn’t it? How many of her sins are you going to take the fall for? Gu Qingshuang, I’ve always known it wasn’t you who almost drowned me back then.”
The past came rushing back in an instant.
…
That night, Gu Qingshuang tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Liu Siwang’s words had sent her spiraling back to that summer when they were eighteen.
Back then, they had just found out about the truth. There were no screaming matches, no face-slapping—just a cold, heavy silence. It was so stiff they didn’t know what to say to each other.
One day, Gu Xueqiang told her to take Liu Siwang to the Crimson Hotel.
Gu Qingshuang asked her why, and Gu Xueqiang simply said she would find out when she got there.
When they arrived at the hotel, someone led her away. Liu Siwang was waiting by the swimming pool in the penthouse suite. Gu Qingshuang stepped into the elevator with the person, but as it descended, she suddenly felt something was wrong.
By the time she broke free and rushed back up, she saw two bodyguards holding Liu Siwang’s head underwater in the pool.
