Chapter 7: 007

On a clear midnight with stars few and far between, Song Guiya lay in bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. She kept it up for two whole hours, her mind replaying that unconscious murmur Xi Tongyue had let slip while drunk.

Suddenly, a strange noise came from Xi Tongyue’s room.

The villa’s soundproofing was excellent. Even with Song Guiya’s sharper-than-average hearing, normal sounds wouldn’t carry through. This one must have been loud.

She threw off the covers and bolted out of her room.

Song Guiya knocked on the door and called Xi Tongyue’s name. No response. The door was locked from the inside.

In her urgency, she kicked the door open. The moment she stepped inside, she saw Xi Tongyue emerging from the bathroom in a bathrobe.

A faint flush colored Xi Tongyue’s cheeks. Her long lashes were still misted with moisture, and droplets from her damp hair trailed down her temple, pooling in the hollow of her throat before slipping into the loosely tied bathrobe with her slightest movement.

In her hand, she dangled a pitch-black cat.

The black cat spotted its familiar master and let out a pitiful, muffled “mrrrow.”

Song Guiya unconsciously rubbed her forehead.

The cat was one the original owner had picked up some time ago, but it had always been a free-roamer, appearing and vanishing like a ghost.

It had been days since she’d last seen it—she’d thought it was lost. Who knew it had snuck into Xi Tongyue’s room?

Xi Tongyue’s face was grim as she tossed the cat to Song Guiya. Her tone was laced with gritted teeth. “Song Guiya, if your cat shows up in my room again, I’ll stew you both.”

Seeing her angry—clearly quite startled—Song Guiya immediately apologized. “Sorry, that was my oversight. Are you hurt anywhere?”

The noise had been so loud, and the bathroom floor was slippery. She worried Xi Tongyue had taken a fall.

Xi Tongyue’s anger deflated by half at the sight of her like this.

She headed toward the bed, but took in a sharp breath after just one step and collapsed onto it.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” Song Guiya frowned. A fall on bathroom tiles could be minor or major—trouble if a bone was involved.

Xi Tongyue winced, looking genuinely pained. “Right leg.”

Song Guiya was no stranger to sprains and bruises.

She tucked the black cat under her left arm to keep it from squirming, then stepped closer to Xi Tongyue, bending down. With her free hand, she gently probed the muscles and joints of Xi Tongyue’s leg, asking as she went, “Does it hurt here?”

The long, slender leg had slipped free of the bathrobe, infinite temptation just half an inch higher—but Song Guiya’s mind was solely on whether Xi Tongyue was injured.

Warm hands roamed freely over cool skin, yet their owner harbored no other intentions.

Xi Tongyue bit back a curse, inwardly regretting her ploy.

She’d only meant to tease her a little, but now Song Guiya was seriously checking her over?

Xi Tongyue had just been relieving some pent-up desire in the bathroom when the black cat burst in, interrupting at the worst moment. Her body was hypersensitive right then, and this teasing had backfired on her instead.

Song Guiya methodically checked every inch of the right leg’s tendons and bones. Xi Tongyue felt her body growing more and more tormented, yet she couldn’t bear to make her stop.

It wasn’t until Song Guiya massaged her ankle that a short, involuntary moan escaped from above.

“Does the ankle hurt?” Song Guiya looked up at her, expression grave and focused.

Xi Tongyue nearly laughed in frustration at Song Guiya, fighting the urge to kick this oblivious fool out while coolly withdrawing her foot from that warm grasp. In an icy tone, she said, “It doesn’t hurt anymore. You can go.”

Song Guiya gave her a puzzled glance.

The alcohol hadn’t fully worn off Xi Tongyue yet, and with her tsundere mood kicking in, she turned her head away, refusing to engage. Her gaze happened to land on the mangled door lock.

Song Guiya followed her line of sight and, fearing a misunderstanding, patiently explained, “I heard a big noise from your room just now. You didn’t answer when I knocked, so in the heat of the moment, I barged in. I’ll get someone to fix it tomorrow.”

Xi Tongyue had been stewing in silent irritation, but suddenly her thin lips curved up in a teasing smirk. “No answer and you kick the door down? You’re pretty practiced at that.”

Song Guiya froze at the words.

Back in her youth, as a study companion in the Palace of Eternal Peace, the Eldest Princess—who wasn’t Majesty yet—had a habit of locking herself in her room in a fit of pique. Worried she’d hurt herself throwing a tantrum, Song Guiya would stand guard outside. Any strange sound from within, and she’d kick the door in.

And there would be the Eldest Princess, standing amid shattered tribute porcelain, grinning in triumph.

She knew it was a game, that it happened every time—but every time, she’d still kick the door in.

Song Guiya snapped back to the present, gazing deeply into Xi Tongyue’s eyes.

Xi Tongyue’s eyes were strikingly beautiful, her pupils a deeper shade than most people’s, lending her an air of mystery that drew others in without them realizing it. Amid the swirling steam, with the outer corners of her eyes tilting slightly upward, even that distinctive red mole took on an even more enchanting, seductive allure.

Song Guiya fell silent for a moment before finally venturing, “You’re indeed very skilled at it. Otherwise, Chang Fu wouldn’t be out there splitting firewood at his age.”

“Chang Fu? I don’t recall anyone by that name in your circle.” Xi Tongyue turned to look at her, her gaze full of genuine curiosity, as if she had never heard of him.

Chang Fu was the eunuch in charge of the Internal Affairs Department. Because Song Guiya had a habit of kicking doors without any restraint, he had reported her to her parents more than once, and she had taken more than a few beatings as a result.

Later, when the Eldest Princess learned of it, she ordered Chang Fu—in a fit of righteous anger—to chop up every single door Song Guiya had damaged into firewood and deliver it all to the Palace of Pure Meals for kindling.

Sixteen doors in total. He worked from dawn till dusk and collapsed with exhaustion that very night. It took him quite some time to recover before he could return to the palace.

Ever since, Chang Fu had avoided her like the plague, always taking the long way around whenever he spotted her.

Seeing Xi Tongyue’s reaction to the name, Song Guiya lowered her eyes and said evenly, “It’s getting late. You should turn in early.”

With that, she scooped up the black cat and left the room.

Song Guiya fetched some cat food and tried to feed it to the cat.

The black cat sniffed at the food eagerly, clearly tempted, but for some strange reason, it only kept snuffling at it intently without ever taking a bite.

Song Guiya watched it carefully and noticed its mouth seemed to be holding something. She gently pried it out—a small square foil packet, unopened and containing whatever was inside.

There was no label on the packet, but it clearly belonged to Xi Tongyue.

Song Guiya tossed it casually into the top drawer of the bedside table, figuring she’d return it later that evening.

The next morning, Song Guiya had just finished breakfast when Gu Yuanyuan arrived to pick her up.

“Teacher Song, it’s about that time. Ready to head out?”

“Sure.”

Song Guiya settled the cat into its bed, cast one last glance upstairs, and stepped out the door with Gu Yuanyuan.

In the instant before the door clicked shut, a woman in a black lace nightgown descended the stairs with graceful poise.

As she reached the dining table, Xi Tongyue’s eyes immediately fell on the adorably chubby bunny bun that Song Guiya had handmade the night before.

And on a sleek black cat paw.

With no one around, the black cat had hopped onto a chair and was brazenly swiping at the plate with its claw, scheming to make off with the bunny bag. Suddenly, it sensed a chilling gaze boring into its back. Its blue pupils reflected the figure of Xi Tongyue looming behind it, radiating killing aura.

The black cat’s fur bristled in an instant. With a startled “Yowl!”, it leaped off the table and bolted from the dining room.

~~~

Dance Unlimited was primarily a competition show, but it had one fresh gimmick: the program crew filmed and edited footage of the contestants’ daily training sessions, releasing them across the web before each matchday. It served as pre-event hype while giving viewers that satisfying “growth journey” vibe.

Unfortunately, even the best ideas fall flat without real substance or buzz. The show had limped along with lukewarm reception since its debut, and the recent week-long hiatus—caused by Song Guiya and Li Xingruo’s injuries—had left the entire crew thoroughly demoralized.

At long last, recording resumed, and they figured this was it: grind through the rest and call it a day.

But outside the recording studio building, a massive crowd had gathered, the noise and energy immense. Nearly everyone clutched enormous banners.

All proclaiming: Song Guiya, get out of the entertainment industry!

Some blasted the message on loop through megaphones. The chaos rivaled the mob scene at the hospital gates that day. If not for the security barriers, the building itself might have been overrun.

The spectacle had been raging for a full hour.

The program crew was utterly dumbfounded. The staff huddled inside, not daring to venture out, all crowding the windows to gawk at the scene below.

“Whoa, when did our show blow up like this? We’re talking viral potential here!”

“Viral, my foot. Didn’t you catch what they’re yelling? That’s all Song Guiya’s anti-fans out there. If she doesn’t quit, they’re boycotting the whole show. We can’t even film now. Who knows if we’ll see our paychecks this month—I promised my wife that designer bag she loves. Fat chance now.” The speaker looked utterly dejected.

“Hey, what does the one up top say?”

“What’s the situation? The director’s still holed up in the conference room holding a meeting. Just wait it out. Neither Song Guiya nor Li Xingruo is someone to mess with.”