Several cameras had been set up, with the closest one positioned right overhead.
Everything else was fine, but that spot was a problem. Every time Zhong Jia tilted her head back during a kiss, she came face-to-face with the diligently whirring equipment. The cold lens stared down impassively, while a bunch of very much alive crew members watched from the other side.
She couldn’t help imagining how she must look in that moment. She’d seen playback footage with the director before, and it always seemed like she’d been utterly ravaged—unrecognizable, even to herself. How could that be me?
So she always shied away. The moment her peripheral vision caught that blinking red light, her gaze would dart aside. Unable to fully immerse herself, the takes never quite hit the mark. Nong Siqing had given her a few passes, but only barely. Over time, it had turned into Zhong Jia’s infamous stumbling block—this scene that kept killing her momentum.
The hospital at dead of night wasn’t asleep. In the dim, dank restroom, Kong Can was drawn by Ruan Ting’s kisses into the last stall. With a bang, the woman who had rushed over from the company slammed the door shut. Her high heels clacked against the floor alongside the girl’s flip-flops, creating a chaotic mix of footsteps with varying textures.
In the cramped space, Kong Can instinctively leaned against the partition. Before she could steady herself, Ruan Ting’s deep kiss stole away her freedom to breathe.
Her breath was utterly controlled by the other’s dense, intricate kisses. Kong Can hooked her arms around Ruan Ting’s neck, struggling to match this unfamiliar rhythm.
It had been so long since they’d been intimate. This was a rare chance—the setting hardly mattered. Kong Can didn’t mind at all. She could feel Ruan Ting’s uncontrollable desire, her straightforward possessiveness.
If there was anything that gave her pause, it was…
Kong Can heard someone enter the restroom outside. The person seemed desperate, hurrying along, dissatisfied with the first few stalls for some reason. Doors banged open and shut in quick succession as she grumbled in disgust and pressed on. The restroom wasn’t large; she was getting closer.
The extra actor reached the stall against the wall and paused at its door.
The door panel didn’t quite meet the tile floor, leaving a narrow gap. If the person outside bent down and peered in, she’d see two pairs of shoes pressed tip-to-toe.
Zhong Jia slipped into character, picturing the humiliating scene. Sweat broke out on her palms as she glanced nervously toward the gap, then quickly looked away. On the monitor, her eyes widened in sudden alarm. Under the cold fluorescent light, they brimmed with a pleading vulnerability that made her look all the more pitiable.
Sweat trickled down her cheek, sliding along her jawline to her neck.
There, marks from a woman’s teeth lingered—vivid lipstick prints proclaiming their tangled intimacy.
Zhong Jia gazed at Xie Yingnian, realizing she was just Ruan Ting now. From the moment the camera rolled, all those surging, genuine emotions stemmed from that: she was Ruan Ting, and Zhong Jia was Kong Can.
She couldn’t help wondering: Had Xie Yingnian ever truly liked her?
Why had she only felt it those few times? Could someone really bury their feelings so deeply, so imperceptibly?
Xie Yingnian’s performances were always reliable; “a thousand faces in one person” had become her signature.
The character’s gentle meticulousness flowed like a gentle stream into her casual actions. Her palm cradled the back of Zhong Jia’s head, taking any risk of bumping into the hard partition onto herself. She pulled back slightly, ending the kiss—but not the torment.
Kong Can was young; she had no idea that if you did this sort of thing routinely, it got boring fast.
Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity?
Xie Yingnian deliberately covered Zhong Jia’s mouth and nose, stripping away her breath entirely. Zhong Jia could only gasp in frantic, confined bursts—silent at first. Gradually, Ruan Ting’s palm grew slick with moisture.
The kisses didn’t stop; it was one-sided plunder, pecking relentlessly at Kong Can’s tense face.
Ruan Ting found it increasingly amusing. Her knee unyieldingly nudged apart the girl’s clenched thighs, then she straightened up to rub lightly against her. The unprepared stimulation drained the color from Kong Can’s face. Her whimper lodged in her throat, turning into a suspicious muffled noise that made the person at the sink pause and glance back…
Zhong Jia really could barely stand. Her arms clamped tightly around Xie Yingnian’s waist as she tilted her head back slightly. No acting was needed for that reaction—it was pure human instinct, a desperate bid to escape the trap.
The fabric at Xie Yingnian’s waist bunched up in wrinkles. She could feel Zhong Jia’s panic, whether feigned or real. She liked seeing her like this, pinned under her control. For a few seconds, she even wanted to cover those gradually moistening eyes too.
Plunge them both into helpless, reliant darkness. With nothing and no one else to turn to, she’d depend only on me.
I’d be her everything—if not already, then I’d make it so by force. Everyone and everything else could fade into irrelevance.
Her hand pressed against the prop-aged door panel, its chill seeping into her skin and warming slowly. Xie Yingnian curled her fingers as if grasping at something. Her eyes lowered, still deep in the scene, knuckles bending as her fingertips teasingly grazed Zhong Jia’s scalp.
Whether from pleasure or a shiver, Zhong Jia trembled all over. Sweat suddenly beaded on her back, and a breeze from the window made her legs go weak.
Even after the director called cut, Zhong Jia remained slumped against Xie Yingnian’s shoulder, her tank top soaked through. She’d stood too long, her focus too intense; only now did her knees start to throb faintly. The woman’s calm voice sounded in her ear: “It’s over.”
Her mind blank, Zhong Jia mumbled blankly, “…Mm, okay.”
The production team had booked a private room at a well-known local eatery. Zhong Jia, being the junior, was teased into sitting next to the director and felt terribly awkward about it. Everyone was just indulging her—she was too thin-skinned for their ribbing, so they let it drop with some laughs.
“Heading back to Yanjing or what?” Nong Siqing always played the elder statesman at these gatherings, amiable enough off the clock.
The two seats beside her were empty; Xie Yingnian and Zhou Chun—who popped in now and then to handle manager duties—had stepped out earlier.
Zhong Jia sipped her milk beer. She knew her limits with alcohol—if she got drunk again this time, who would carry her and coax her to bed?
No rush back to Yanjing; they had high-speed rail tickets for nine the next morning, then a short flight from the provincial capital to Jincheng in just over an hour.
The food was lavish, the milk beer nicely chilled, and the vibe relaxed. But Zhong Jia had little appetite. She gripped the aluminum can beaded with condensation and forced a smile. “Gonna hang out a few days, unwind a bit.”
Nong Siqing: “Focusing on singing from now on?”
She studied the girl, inevitably reminded of Qiao Yingqiu. Similar, yet not—like mother, like daughter in their stubborn devotion. Zhong Jia didn’t seem the type to heed advice. Nong Siqing had long sensed the undercurrents and could only sigh that Xie Yingnian was trouble incarnate.
“Yeah, but I’ve still got school. Shi Ge says to try out any good scripts that come up.” Zhong Jia sat ramrod straight—Qian Peiqing had trained her well. She lacked the fidgety impatience of youth, never lunging for dishes on the lazy Susan no matter how tempting.
She glanced at Xie Yingnian’s bowl. The woman had barely eaten a few bites before stopping, her appetite seemingly off.
Because of me?
The thought flickered and died; Zhong Jia dismissed it as self-indulgent nonsense. Who was she to assume?
“Work hard. Come to me if you hit any snags.” With Nong Siqing’s endorsement, no further explanation was needed. Word would spread through the crew like wildfire, and soon the industry would know this heavyweight director had taken Zhong Jia under her wing.
Zhong Jia blinked for a few seconds before nodding hesitantly. “Thank you, Director.”
The empty seats stayed vacant; Xie Yingnian and Zhou Chun never returned.
Nong Siqing left early as usual, leaving the young ones to their fun. Zhong Jia excused herself to walk off the meal and slipped out.
The restaurant was an old stilt house converted for the purpose. Servers in ethnic costumes bustled up and down the creaky wooden stairs, their steps accompanied by the groans of insect-chewed beams—not ugly, but like sculptures carved by time.
Her leg was injured, so she didn’t venture far. She strolled the hallway outside the private room, reaching the end to quietly light a cigarette.
A river ran alongside, its decorative lights twinkling like stars. The breeze carried a refreshing ethnic flair.
As she walked, Zhong Jia slowed. Her hearing wasn’t great, so she stepped closer, straining to listen. No mistake—it was Xie Yingnian’s voice…
“I told you last time, and you didn’t believe me. You have to now, right?”
Zhong Jia was attuned to voices; she recognized Zhou Chun’s reply. The manager chuckled. “I thought you were serious this time.”
Now it seemed like just another illusion.
To be fair, Zhou Chun actually thought well of Zhong Jia. Even back in high school, the girl had been oddly pitiable. Though she’d said not to rush repayment, she sent steady transfers each month—probably juggling part-time jobs on top of studies. Once Zhou Chun had her address, holiday gifts arrived for “Secretary Zhou” and the unseen “Mr. Xie.”
She was a kid who knew how to give.
Oddly, it wasn’t entirely about her upbringing. Some people were born that way—offering everything with sincere openness, no matter how much coldness or malice life threw at them.
Zhou Chun’s wariness wasn’t baseless. With Shi Cainran in the picture, she figured Xie Yingnian had sibling duty out of her system; any partner should at least be close in age.
Zhong Jia was even more absurd—several years younger than Shi Cainran. To Zhou Chun, she was daughter or little sister material at best. Xie Yingnian had invested no small effort, even hiring a skilled chef on the eve of Zhong Jia’s college entrance exams for three daily meals plus dessert nightcaps to boost the aspiring student’s nutrition.
“We didn’t date for long.” Xie Yingnian said nothing about whether it had been serious or not.
~~~
Zhou Chun said, “Speaking of which, why have you been hiding it from her? Not to rag on you or anything, but forget your fans—you’re your own biggest blind fan, aren’t you, Mr. Xie.”
It hit Zhong Jia like a bolt from the blue. Snippets from the past suddenly flooded her mind: Secretary Zhou, Zhou Chun, Mr. Xie, Xie Yingnian. She froze in place, momentarily unable to reconcile Mr. Xie with Xie Yingnian.
These were two entirely different concepts. One was a respected elder she felt deep gratitude toward, the object of her longing that she could never attain…
Xie Yingnian’s response drifted intermittently into her ears. “By then, she had already met me. Miss Xie, Secretary Zhou—isn’t that too easy to connect?”
“…She’s very stubborn. Grandma’s surgery was a last resort, forced to beg for help… She harbors resentment toward Qiao Yingqiu too. If she knew I was helping her because of her mother, she might not accept it. Better to keep it hidden…”
The server accidentally bumped into a customer who had turned abruptly and apologized profusely. “Sorry about that, miss—”
Zhong Jia kept her head down and walked forward, her voice muffled. “It’s fine.”
“Hey, I heard you’re looking for an interior designer. What’s up with your house? Or do you want to redecorate Shi Cainran’s apartment?” Zhou Chun dismissed the unrelated mishap without a glance. She flicked her lighter open and shut, and by the time she finished asking, Zhong Jia was already out of sight.
No matter how fast Zhong Jia ran, she couldn’t outpace Xie Yingnian, whose knees were uninjured and whose legs were longer. At the stairwell leading from the second floor to the first, the two of them faced each other awkwardly and in silence, one ahead of the other.
Xie Yingnian called out to stop her. She descended one step and came level with Zhong Jia, then slowly squatted down. She reached back with one hand, signaling for Zhong Jia to climb onto her back.
“Thank you… I-I can manage on my own…”
“I’m not asking.”
The commanding tone, paired with her aloof and cool voice, was utterly captivating. As if entranced, Zhong Jia hesitated for a moment before entrusting her full weight to Xie Yingnian.
Her neck was hooked gently—not as tight as during their acting scenes. She could tell there was care in it. What was Xie Yingnian thinking? Xie Yingnian steadied Zhong Jia’s legs in her arms and descended the tricky stairs with firm steps. Their shadows on the dimly lit wall framed an air of intimacy.
“Where did you learn to eavesdrop?”
“Is it okay for you to chat about me behind my back?”
Is it okay to lie to me?
She held back that last line, suppressing her temper with great effort. But the emotions bottled up too fiercely, leaving her body trembling. Xie Yingnian stepped out of the restaurant, her footsteps pausing briefly. She had no intention of putting Zhong Jia down. One heart was crushed by the ragged breathing from behind, aching densely with pain.
“Want to find someplace to talk?”
Zhong Jia inhaled the familiar scent of Xie Yingnian’s hair, which she loved so much. Unable to resist, she tightened her arms around her. “On what grounds?”
They were at an impasse.
Xie Yingnian let out a chuckle, firing back with rare sarcasm. “Your dad.”
Zhong Jia bit down hard on the back of her neck. “I hate my dad. You can’t be him.”
“So you don’t hate me.”
“Mmm…” In the night, Zhong Jia murmured softly, “Of course not.”
Of course.
Xie Yingnian gazed at the stream of cars ahead, one after another vanishing into the distance in different directions. How could she bear to let the rabbit that was nearly in her grasp escape? With longing in her heart but frightened by the cage, it might flee this once only to return drawn by the temptation, its will eroded until it sank deeper, unable to leave.
She had driven here, and the car was parked right downstairs. Behind the restaurant was a cramped residential area with limited parking spots. With the crew’s large entourage, a few vehicles had been relegated to the shopping center across the street.
Xie Yingnian sent Zhou Chun a quick message, asking her to let everyone know they had left early. She set her phone aside, leaned over, and took the seatbelt from Zhong Jia’s hand, buckling it with a click.
One streetlamp was out. In the dim car interior, she pressed a kiss to Zhong Jia’s earlobe. “So, for now, as your girlfriend.”
