Chapter 20: She Was Her Only Remnant

“Should we include all of today’s content?”

After the podcast recording ended, the host hesitated somewhat in the connection and asked.

There was no doubt that she was asking—

Whether it was necessary to directly publicize Li Wuhui’s segment on her invalid marriage history?

It seemed that publicizing it wouldn’t have any impact on her career, but if it was made public just like that, Li Wuhui’s recent days would probably be quite lively.

Because of Li Wuhui’s straightforward and unreserved personality, where she didn’t conceal much most of the time, her public favor wasn’t great.

In a word—it was that those who loved her loved her to death, and those who hated her hated her to death.

The host remembered that many people always liked to pin unclear motives on Li Wuhui—for example, excessive drinking, excessive medication.

And after her own mother’s death, she had invited a mage to send away a vengeful ghost because she was afraid of being haunted.

There was even a period when many people believed…

She was the culprit behind a certain famous photographer’s amputation and withdrawal from the scene.

And before that—

They had originally been intimate partners, and their emotional relationship had been speculated and spread in countless versions.

But no one had expected back then that it would end so sloppily in such an outcome.

“It’s fine.”

Li Wuhui’s response was the same as every time.

“This isn’t a big deal. The public’s attention fades quickly anyway, and besides…”

She moved her lips. “This is already history.”

“Alright, since you agree…”

“However,” Li Wuhui suddenly brought up again, “don’t include the last sentence.”

“The last sentence?” The host was somewhat puzzled but quickly reacted.

“Ah, the one saying she was beautiful—”

At this point, she laughed heartily. “Because it’s already history, but that sentence sounds too much like a deep emotional confession?”

“No.” Li Wuhui denied it. “Because I don’t want her to know.”

“Know what?” The host was stunned.

Li Wuhui didn’t answer. “Anyway, include everything else, just not this sentence.”

The host wisely didn’t ask further.

–

That day, after the connection ended, on December 31st, Li Wuhui received an invitation and went to participate in a certain brand’s non-public internal year-end party.

There were many people at the party. She simply greeted them, then held a glass of champagne and took a seat in the corner.

In truth, she didn’t like such occasions.

But she didn’t remember how many times she had attended such occasions, or even whether she had met the white face who had just smiled and chatted about recent events with her before…

She often appeared at ease on the surface but was detached inwardly.

Although three years had already passed, for some reason, she always felt that at this moment, Qiu Yiran should be by her side—

She should be standing shoulder to shoulder with her, maintaining the same arc of a smile, holding champagne of the same color, exchanging words with people of different skin colors, waiting for the final seconds of 2024 to end…

Then, when no one was paying attention, she would hold her hand, sneak to the corner, quietly furrow her brows, pour out both of their champagnes, her eyelids flushed from the alcohol like wet raspberries, and whisper softly by her ear—Li Chunfeng, let’s go back early today to watch Amélie.

Because there were few Chinese people at the party.

So, Chinese, the language used by the most people in the world, became their secret code as a result.

That’s how it should have been.

—Li Wuhui lowered her eyes, stared at the champagne rippling in her glass, and thought quietly.

Then she saw Wei Ting walking toward her.

Wei Ting was her current manager—Eastern features, born in Paris, one of the rare Chinese speakers at this party.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ting asked her concernedly. “Your complexion doesn’t look good. Are you feeling unwell?”

Li Wuhui shook her head. “I’m fine.”

A long time ago, she remembered that Wei Ting had been introduced to her by Qiu Yiran. At that time, Wei Ting had smilingly patted Qiu Yiran’s shoulder, blinked, and said we are very good friends.

And now, Wei Ting never mentioned that name in front of her, as if that person had completely vanished.

Of course, it wasn’t just Wei Ting.

In just three years, this brand hadn’t undergone any major overhaul. Many of the people laughing and chatting happily among them had also collaborated and talked with Qiu Yiran before, and now they all tacitly chose to forget together.

The public’s attention always faded quickly.

As long as someone didn’t appear frequently, didn’t struggle desperately, didn’t float to the surface, it was easy to be forgotten.

Li Wuhui had to realize once again a fact that she had once resented to the bone—it still existed:

When Qiu Yiran chose to separate from her, she had indeed been ruthless enough, leaving her almost nothing.

Only Li Wuhui herself remained, as Qiu Yiran’s sole remnant in Paris.

–

The party lasted a very long time.

Li Wuhui didn’t stay long. After finishing this glass of champagne that was hard to swallow, she maintained her smile and quietly left.

But she didn’t go far.

That night, Paris’s lights were hazy. She staggered toward the parking lot, supported herself against the car door, and prepared to get in.

At that moment, she felt someone suddenly rush up beside her—

But her head was dizzy and bloated; she didn’t react in time.

A large bucket of ice water had already been poured over her head.

Bone-chilling cold—in the snowy weather, she wore only a gown. The ice water poured down from her head in a clatter.

She stood stunned, her shoulders and back trembling.

The residual alcohol in her body was completely dispelled at that moment. But she still felt that everything before her eyes was hard to see clearly—

The parking lot security quickly rushed over, restrained the angry person in front of her, and dragged them back together.

And the person with a ferocious face, even while being restrained and pulled away from her, still yelled loudly at her,

“How can you forget her? How dare you!”

Afterward, people rushed out from the party like a waterfall of droplets spraying toward her. Those high heels and leather shoes, the diamonds on hands and necks, the hair gel on heads, the bright red lips… dazzling and overwhelming, all stabbing toward her, making Li Wuhui unable to open her eyes at that moment.

In a daze, she raised her hand to shield her face.

The piercing water droplets trickled sparsely down her face.

She barely opened her eyes and saw Wei Ting rushing out from the crowd.

Wei Ting wrapped her, disheveled and drenched, in a towel, then quickly took her to the car and tightly closed the door—

“Who was that?” In the car, Li Wuhui’s hair was wet in clumps, her teeth nearly chattering.

After hanging up the phone, Wei Ting said very concisely, “One of Ian’s crazy fans.”

It had been too long since she had heard that name from Wei Ting’s mouth, or perhaps that bucket of ice water was too cold. Li Wuhui paused for a few seconds before reacting.

“Then why did she splash me?”

“Some people have extreme ideas. You don’t need to worry about it; I’ll handle it.” Wei Ting didn’t explain the reason directly to her.

Li Wuhui felt exhausted.

Today’s party, and this bucket of ice water splashed on her head, both made her feel more and more like a deflated ball.

The warmth from the car heater didn’t make her feel any warmer.

She stared out the window for a while, then suddenly remembered the few torn fragments from that person’s pocket—

It was the cover photo from one of her magazines.

If it was a crazy fan of Qiu Yiran, why would there be her magazine cover?

Li Wuhui realized.

She found that magazine in the car and, upon flipping it open, suddenly understood why—

Because the thirteenth question in her interview in that magazine.

She had said, it’s almost time.

Sure enough, it was retribution—just for saying those two words, someone had already used such an extreme method to remind her that anyone could forget Qiu Yiran, and do so without guilt, but only she could not.

Li Wuhui chuckled lowly, like self-mockery, like sorrow.

Wei Ting saw her expression and thought her mood was off. Wei Ting took the magazine from her hand and comforted again, “This person has a history of this many times; it’s not targeted solely at you. Don’t overthink it.”

Li Wuhui didn’t respond.

She actually didn’t care much about being splashed. She had been in Paris for a total of nine years, and the malice she had suffered was far more than this; she wouldn’t be easily frightened by something like this.

She was only thinking about why she had said that back then, so she tried hard to recall the scene of that interview day and finally had a realization.

At that time, she had publicly stated to the outside—anyone, anything, all needed to move on.

But in reality—

During that long and boring interview process, she had tightly clutched the phone in her coat pocket, using great effort to remind herself to stay focused.

Because three hours later, she had to fly back to China.

At that time, she had tried her best to control her panic and confusion, pinching her palm to maintain calmness.

That was the first news of Qiu Yiran she had heard in three years. She could hardly breathe and even felt like she had to vomit out some organ inside her body to stop.

So when the interviewer asked her—had she completely moved on from that matter with Ian?

She could only spit out two more words—almost.

Indeed, almost.

Now that this name was mentioned before her again, she pinched her palm red and suddenly thought of only one thing—

Because I’m about to find her.