Chapter 1: Dahurian Angelica

Mid-autumn brought frequent, violent thunderstorms, delaying flights from B City to Yanyang City. At 1:34 a.m., the Boeing jet finally touched down after circling overhead.

The cabin doors opened, and passengers began filing off in fits and starts. At the very back walked Qi Banxia, wearing dark sunglasses, a striped silk blouse, and pale trousers. A small green-and-cream handbag hung from her right shoulder. Slim-waisted and graceful, with skin as fair as snow and only light makeup, she still drew every eye.

“Banxia, should we use the VIP exit or the regular one?” Tao Tao, her assistant, asked from her left.

Qi Banxia looked up. Instead of answering, she asked, “Is “Bitter Buckwheat” still there to meet me?” Everyone in the industry knew she liked buckwheat tea, so her fans had naturally adopted the name.

“We talked a lot of them into going home, but about a dozen are still waiting.”

“Let’s use the regular exit.” Qi Banxia lowered her head again, busy replying to WeChat messages.

The young assistant understood. Carrying two gift bags from tonight’s sponsors, she said nothing more. Tao Tao was twenty-four. After graduating from college, she’d gone to work under Qi Banxia’s talent agent, Yang Yun. In the final months before her rebirth, when Qi Banxia was twenty-seven, Tao Tao had been the one constantly at her side.

For someone so young, Tao Tao was remarkably levelheaded. She was efficient and thoughtful, which made life much easier for Qi Banxia. That was why, in this life, Qi Banxia had pulled her onto her team two years earlier.

Once they reached the terminal, they waited for Tao Tao and the makeup artist to collect their luggage, then slowly made their way out through exit E1. It was nearly two in the morning. The arrivals hall had none of its daytime bustle, so the Bitter Buckwheat fans who’d been waiting off to one side stood out at once. Qi Banxia slipped her phone into her bag and strode over.

The fans fell into orderly roles: some took pictures, some filmed, and others held out photos for her to sign.

“Banxia, you worked hard. Get some rest.”

“You look gorgeous tonight, Banxia.”

“What are you talking about? She looks gorgeous every day.”

…

Qi Banxia bent her head to sign each photo, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. “You should all head home soon. Be careful on the way. If you’re in the group chat, remember to let everyone know you’ve made it home safely.”

“Okay, we’ll behave.”

“Don’t worry, Banxia.”

“You’ve lost weight lately. You should eat more.”

…

The relationship between celebrities and their fans was much like the old saying: Water could carry a boat, but it could also overturn one. The celebrity was the boat, and the fans were the water. Sometimes the waters were calm and both sides got along. Other times the waves rose high enough to capsize the boat.

That was why plenty of celebrities turned a blind eye when fans used their name in public to do things that hurt others and helped no one. It was an easy way to keep everyone happy. Qi Banxia, however, had no patience for that kind of thing. If something happened and caused trouble, she contacted her studio to deal with it properly as soon as possible. Sometimes she even posted a gentle reminder herself.

Over time, some of the more extreme fans drifted away. The loyal ones who remained were mostly easygoing. Along with casual fans and viewers who liked her dramas, they were content to admire her looks, support her work, and occasionally buy merchandise. When a show needed votes, they pitched in if they could.

So Qi Banxia and her fans had settled into an unspoken agreement: no extravagant gifts, no light sticks or other conspicuous signs at the airport, and, whenever possible, no meeting her there for flights that arrived or departed in the middle of the night.

Qi Banxia held the little gifts against her chest, walking and responding to the fans until they reached the parking area. Only then did she hand everything to Tao Tao and say goodbye before ducking into the car.

The van pulled away from the airport and disappeared onto a dimly lit expressway. Tao Tao sat on the left side of the second row. After messaging talent agent Yang Yun, she turned toward Qi Banxia, who had closed her eyes to rest, and lowered her voice.

“Yang says we can turn down all three dramas that haven’t been signed yet for next year. But a few days ago, they already told the gossip accounts we’d be joining the online variety show at the end of the year, so we can’t back out. They suggested a compromise: we sign on as both host and guest performer.”

Yang Yun was leaving the choice to Qi Banxia: keep working as a mentor, or take the other offer.

Most celebrities wouldn’t want to do two jobs at once, especially when one of them meant keeping the live audience entertained. Qi Banxia lowered her lashes for a moment, then nodded. “Tao, tell Yang I’ll sign on as host.”

In July, Qi Banxia had won the White Camphor Award for Best Actress, propelling her into the ranks of the country’s four most promising young actresses. A flood of variety shows and major drama projects had since come knocking.

In her previous life, she worked nearly every day for the next two years. She won the Golden Skylark Award for the film The End and enjoyed a spectacular rise to fame—but the punishing schedule wrecked her health. By the time doctors found her pancreatic cancer, it was terminal. Her family were all doctors, but there was nothing they could do. They could only watch her suffer, while Qi Banxia watched Jiang Baizhi blame herself and worry day after day.

It had been unbearable.

For a while, Qi Banxia had hoped fate might show her mercy this time, that the cancer might leave her alone. But in late August, her father, Qi Zhennan, still died of pancreatic cancer. Even the timing was exactly the same.

Malignant tumors… Qi Banxia had once overheard Jiang Baizhi discussing it with someone over the phone. From the perspective of basic research, cancer could involve a two-hit mutation hypothesis—in other words, there could be a genetic predisposition.

And then there were all the other factors: filming overnight, recording variety shows, and keeping a wildly irregular schedule…

If the ending was already written and nothing could change it, then, having already experienced life as an actress, Qi Banxia decided to spend her limited time pursuing another career she’d dreamed of as a teenager: radio hosting.

As for her marriage, she didn’t want to drag Jiang Baizhi down with her. If she didn’t make the first move, then, under the terms of their prenuptial agreement, nothing had begun yet. There was still time.

But she’d fallen in love long ago. The day after their wedding, she’d woken to discover she had been reborn and hurried away. She’d only seen Jiang Baizhi briefly again at Qi Zhennan’s funeral.

She still found herself staring after her, swept away by an endless tide of longing…

The lights outside the window gradually grew brighter. Qi Banxia brushed the tears from the corner of her eye, then returned her gaze to the phone in her hand. She stared at the pale photograph on its screen.

She’d taken it to remind herself: “Six months. During that time, we’re free to find love elsewhere.”

To understand where that agreement came from, she had to start at the beginning…

Thirty years ago, Sun Mingfen, Qi Banxia’s mother, worked as an attending physician in the gynecology department at Yanyang City Hospital of Traditional Chinese Medicine. She specialized in infertility and menstrual disorders. One ordinary appointment, she happened to meet the family of Jiang Luhua, who had founded Jiasheng Entertainment as Chinese-language films were beginning to catch on.

Jiang Luhua had spent the early years of his career so focused on business that he and his wife, Wu Liu, hardly saw each other. Only after the company had found its feet did they begin thinking about having a child. But two years went by without Wu Liu getting pregnant. The couple didn’t give up. They sought out doctors all over Yanyang and tried countless medicines, but nothing worked. Then someone referred them to Sun Mingfen.

After about six months of treatment, Wu Liu became pregnant. The Jiang and Qi families grew closer and closer, and before long, they arranged a marriage between their children: if the Jiang family had a girl, she’d marry the Qi family’s son, Qi Yuanzhi.

Ten months later, Jiang Baizhi was born, and she became the apple of her family’s eye.

Qi Banxia was born six months later. As soon as she was old enough to understand, she knew Jiang Baizhi was destined to be her future sister-in-law. When Qi Banxia was twenty, Wu Liu died. Six years later, her father, Qi Zhennan, was diagnosed with cancer. Jiang Luhua was a businessman and believed in fortune-telling, so he had a master read the birth charts of the three young people. The master declared that Jiang Baizhi and Qi Yuanzhi were fated to clash and must not marry. Qi Banxia, on the other hand, was a perfect match for the only daughter of the Jiang family. Together, they’d be blessed with good fortune.

Same-sex marriage had already been legalized. The elders of both families slapped their thighs and sealed the match on the spot. The entertainment industry was a mess, and Sun Mingfen thought Jiang Baizhi, being so capable, was a much safer choice than some stranger no one knew. Feelings could grow with time. Who knew? Perhaps the two of them would end up deeply in love.

Qi Banxia didn’t mind. She wasn’t bothered by Jiang Baizhi, her classmate of many years. She could be a little quiet, but she was easy to tease. Even so, Qi Banxia suggested they sign an agreement before the wedding. What if Jiang Baizhi had only agreed under pressure? What if Qi Banxia fell for someone else?

Qi Banxia kept her eyes on the phone. Then Tao Tao’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Banxia, Yang sent you the graduate course schedule at the Communication University on WeChat. They said you can sit in on classes anytime. We just have to let them know in advance.”

The Communication University’s flagship program was broadcast hosting. Its graduates made up half the country’s hosts, and Qi Banxia had majored in the same field as an undergraduate. Because she was strikingly beautiful, Taichuan Film and Television, the second-largest talent agency in Yanyang, had discovered her during her first year. She acted in a drama that got a decent response, and somehow she’d stumbled into the entertainment industry. After that, one acting job followed another.

She’d wanted to make it on her own, so she’d never accepted Jiang Luhua’s offer to join Jiasheng Entertainment, the far more powerful agency. Now she had a second life and wanted to return to school, take time to grow, and pursue the hosting career she’d once loved. She’d explained her plan to Yang Yun.

Fortunately, Qi Banxia’s position at Taichuan had steadily strengthened. The agency assumed she only wanted to try it for fun and agreed to her request as a condition of her contract renewal.

“Mm. When are they announcing Best Friend Battle?” Qi Banxia asked, feeling more settled.

“Probably tomorrow. We don’t know who Shi Zhen from Jiasheng Entertainment is bringing. They haven’t said a word.”

“Maybe she’ll bring a newcomer like I did.”

Best Friend Battle was a new women’s variety show produced by Haiyan TV. Four celebrity women each brought along a close friend. In her previous life, those five days and two nights spent together had been the spark that began the relationship between Qi Banxia and Jiang Baizhi.

Half a month ago, Qi Banxia had suddenly realized that even a tiny spark could start a wildfire. She had to put it out before it caught. So she’d immediately asked to switch partners. Her agency had jumped at the opportunity and arranged for Lang Yiqiu, a singer they were promoting heavily that year, to take Jiang Baizhi’s place.

Only a handful of people knew she’d switched out her own wife.