Chapter 4: The Mask Part 1

Mu Shanyi was the type who didn’t use WeChat much.

She never posted Moments, and Miao Zhu had never seen her interact with anyone in their mutual friends’ posts either. This was only the third time Mu Shanyi had liked one of Miao Zhu’s posts since she had opened her Moments feed.

Because it was so rare, Miao Zhu remembered it vividly.

The first time was when Miao Zhu was nineteen. She had always wanted a cello that truly suited her, but after searching for a long time without success, Sheng Xingran had contacted a foundation. Miao Zhu selected this well-preserved antique cello that was over three hundred years old. It was close to Miao Zhu’s birthday then, so Sheng Xingran gave it to her as a birthday gift.

Miao Zhu loved the cello dearly. After her first public performance with it, she couldn’t help but post a photo in her Moments.

The second time was because of the gloves that Ni Xiaoying had knitted, which Mu Shanyi had brought back from the country. That day, the incident with Bianca happened, and Sheng Xingran never showed up in the end, leaving Miao Zhu and Mu Shanyi to have dinner alone.

After returning home, Miao Zhu posted a Moment sharing the gloves and the exquisite meal. Many days later, Mu Shanyi went back and gave that post a like.

And now this was the third time. Of course, memory could be faulty, but Miao Zhu had no interest in verifying it.

She put down her phone, turned off the light, and the exhausting day came to an end as sleepiness overtook her.

After the busy weekend performance, on a restful afternoon, Sheng Xingran picked up Miao Zhu to watch the movie they hadn’t managed to see last time.

The two had a tacit understanding not to mention what had happened the previous week.

Miao Zhu had promised Emma that she would write a review for her, so she watched the movie especially attentively, jotting down notes in her memo app whenever something resonated with her.

And at some point, Sheng Xingran, who was sitting beside her, pulled down the brim of her cap, tilted her head, and quietly fell asleep.

When the movie ended, the noise of the audience leaving didn’t wake Sheng Xingran. It was the theater staff coming to clear the hall who patted her awake.

Sheng Xingran blinked sleepily, taking a few seconds to realize where she was. She abruptly turned to the seat beside her.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Miao Zhu was focused on her phone; she had already written a paragraph of the review for Emma in her memo app.

Sheng Xingran relaxed and stretched lazily. “I painted until morning before sleeping.”

Turning what was supposed to be a relaxing movie outing into a task she had to complete even at the expense of sleep left one feeling somewhat weary.

Miao Zhu finished editing the paragraph with two quick sentences and stood up from her chair. “Let’s go.”

The lights were on in the auditorium. Sheng Xingran looked up at Miao Zhu under the dim yellow glow.

Miao Zhu always kept her emotions hidden, or rather, she always knew exactly what expression was the “right” one to make at any given time.

She wore a mask; all her displays were performances, not from the heart.

—Especially when facing their family.

This time was no exception. Sheng Xingran couldn’t see anything unusual on Miao Zhu’s face, but she knew Miao Zhu was unhappy.

Sheng Xingran smiled and grabbed Miao Zhu’s wrist. “I can’t get up.”

She acted spoiled. “I have no strength left. Help me out.”

Miao Zhu helplessly dragged her along. Sheng Xingran was taller than her, so once pulled up, she naturally draped an arm over Miao Zhu’s shoulder and laughed. “I was faking it.”

Miao Zhu: “I couldn’t tell at all.”

The two walked out of the theater in this intimate pose. Sheng Xingran suddenly remembered and asked, “What were you writing just now?”

Miao Zhu: “A review for Emma.”

…

Neither of them had any intention of clarifying or resolving the issue. They had long grown accustomed to putting it aside.

Sheng Xingran sent Miao Zhu home, just like before. The car stopped outside Moon Reflection Villa.

It was almost dinnertime, so Miao Zhu asked if she wanted to come in for dinner.

Sheng Xingran propped one hand on the steering wheel. “Nah, I’m going back to catch up on sleep.”

Miao Zhu didn’t invite her again. It had only been a casual offer anyway; she knew Sheng Xingran wouldn’t agree.

Sheng Xingran was too lazy to deal with Miao Ling—or more bluntly, she had never thought much of Miao Ling.

Rain poured relentlessly until the end of the month. After Friday’s performance, Miao Zhu returned home and stood by the kitchen island sipping the milk and bird’s nest stew that Aunt Huang had prepared for her. Miao Ling burst in excitedly. “Do you have a performance tomorrow?”

Miao Zhu: “Yes.”

Miao Ling: “Then take the day off. We have guests coming tomorrow night.”

Miao Zhu: “…”

“I’ve been trying to arrange this with your dad for months, and they kept refusing. Maybe because the Dream Lake project has finally settled, your dad went to pay a visit this time, and they finally relented, agreeing to a casual dinner.” Miao Ling spoke with some regret. “They came on short notice, so a lot of ingredients couldn’t be air-shipped in time. But since it’s just a casual meal, we shouldn’t make the hospitality too extravagant, or it might break protocol.”

“Dress nicely and behave. His wife and daughter are coming too.”

“…Or how about this: you don’t show your face at first. Stay up on the second-floor terrace and practice your cello peacefully, got it? Let me check tomorrow’s weather—hope it doesn’t rain.”

Miao Ling chattered on without pause.

The little green spoon circled gently in the bird’s nest bowl, but Miao Zhu’s stomach churned; she couldn’t eat another bite.

The next day, as Miao Ling wished, it drizzled in the afternoon, but by evening, the sunset glow generously appeared.