Chapter 10

Leng Xiang fell into a terrifying nightmare.

She first dreamed of being chased by a fearsome demon from hell. Hell was so hot, and she was drenched in sweat. She ran and ran but didn’t know where she ended up. She watched helplessly as the blue-faced, fanged demon caught up to her, then suddenly pounced and pinned her down. Her entire body felt like it had been run over by a giant truck—aching terribly. Even in the dream, she wondered why the sensation felt so real. Then, as the great demon lord tore at her clothes, she flipped over fiercely.

Bang—

Leng Xiang fell off the bed.

She finally blinked her eyes open in a daze, staring at the ceiling for a while. Her mind felt covered by a layer of fog, and her vision, smell, and hearing all temporarily shut down. She spaced out for a good while before finally coming back to herself. She sluggishly sensed that something was off with her body.

She had no strength anywhere on her body. She tried hard to recall what had happened last night.

She vaguely remembered some things, but not a complete memory. She lifted one arm and keenly noticed a small red bite mark on the inside of her wrist.

Leng Xiang: “……”

Leng Xiang sat up abruptly, hissing in pain from the soreness, numbness, swelling, and ache radiating through her body. She finally remembered what had happened last night.

She jerked her head up and discovered there was another person on the bed.

Jiang Sisi had long been woken by her morning movements. The blanket had been dragged to the floor by Leng Xiang, leaving her uncovered and completely naked. Her snow-white skin crashed into Leng Xiang’s view.

She knew what she had done last night.

No auditions, her schedules deliberately cut off, unable to continue living in her rented place.

Leng Xiang had thought she’d hit rock bottom, but she never imagined this was merely the starting point on the broad road of her misfortunes.

·

Leng Xiang was a traditionally conservative woman.

If anyone found out about this, most probably wouldn’t believe it.

Though she was in the entertainment industry, she didn’t like too much physical contact with others, nor did she like filming kissing or bed scenes. Her professionalism meant she wouldn’t refuse such roles, but she avoided them whenever possible.

She’d always believed such things should happen between one man and one woman who loved each other, after marriage, in bed with the lights off, taking it slow.

Yet she’d never imagined she’d end up lying naked on a strange hotel bed with another woman, her body in excruciating pain.

Jiang Sisi watched as Leng Xiang’s face flushed red, turning deep crimson—even her ears. Then the color slowly faded, leaving her face deathly pale.

Jiang Sisi reached out to pull Leng Xiang up from the floor, but before she could touch her, Leng Xiang recoiled as if startled, slapping away the outstretched hand and scrambling backward. The motion tugged at her sore body, the sensation so intense it made her gasp.

Her lips were still a bit swollen, dotted with tiny wounds that stung whenever she pursed them.

Leng Xiang clutched her head, painfully piecing together what had happened last night. She seemed to have gotten drunk. She thought Shen Cheng was taking her home, so she followed. Then she remembered smelling a strange scent, and her whole body heated up.

Someone came to save her amid a cacophony of crashes—she found it so noisy. Her body burned like fire; anyone would do, as long as they could help her.

After that, she remembered the coolness of a damp towel, and those icy wrists and body—

Leng Xiang opened her mouth but could barely make a sound. Her throat was hoarse. She coughed several times, her voice raspy: “Why are you here?”

If someone had come to rescue her, it should have been someone from Black Pool Bar. How could it be Jiang Sisi?

Jiang Sisi then remembered that Leng Xiang didn’t know she was the owner of Black Pool Bar. Last night, she’d appeared before her wearing a mask, and Leng Xiang hadn’t recognized her.

Jiang Sisi didn’t answer, just extended her hand again to help her up.

Leng Xiang stood on her own, not sparing Jiang Sisi a glance. She tossed the tangled mess of blankets back onto the bed.

She sat back on the bed and realized neither of them was wearing clothes. Her face flushed instantly. She awkwardly reached out, trying to grab her skirt thrown on the bed.

Then she saw that the skirt had been torn.

·

Drunken blackouts were mostly just excuses. It was rare to get so wasted that you remembered nothing at all. Afterward, you always recalled what you’d done.

She remembered how she’d clung to the other woman last night, how the other had stayed inside her body, kissing her, asking if she wanted it. She’d said yes, begged her not to leave, pleading almost tearfully.

Because she remembered these things, she didn’t even know how to face Jiang Sisi.

Should she be angry? But last night, she’d been the one clinging to Jiang Sisi, refusing to let her go.

Feel unwilling? But what was done was done; no taking it back.

She could handle anything on ordinary days—even living in a rental wasn’t a big deal.

Schedules cut, apartment reclaimed, homeless and relying on Shen Cheng’s hospitality—these hadn’t fully broken her spirit. But this one night? She really couldn’t take it.

Yet rationally, she couldn’t blame Jiang Sisi.

Jiang Sisi had dressed. There were red marks on her neck too. Leng Xiang saw them and found them an eyesore.

Jiang Sisi stood by the bed: “I’ll find you some clothes and get some food.”

Leng Xiang’s mind was a mess. She asked: “……Why are you here?”

Why her, of all people?

Jiang Sisi said: “Last night, I saw someone take you to the hotel. You looked in bad shape—not speaking or moving. I figured it wasn’t voluntary, so I called some people to rescue you. I was the only woman there last night, so I stayed to take care of you.”

She hadn’t expected “taking care” to lead them tumbling into bed.

It lined up pretty much with what she’d said.

Leng Xiang fell silent again.

Jiang Sisi wanted to ruffle her hair but hesitated as Leng Xiang dodged. Her hand met empty air.

She was very guarded.

Jiang Sisi withdrew her hand. “I’ll head out first. Get up, tidy yourself, take a shower. Your underwear should still be on the bed—look for it yourself.”

Halfway through, Jiang Sisi noticed Leng Xiang kept her head down, clutching the blanket tightly, still trembling slightly.

Jiang Sisi let out an almost inaudible sigh and reached to grasp her shaking hand.

She gently lifted her chin. Leng Xiang shook her head, refusing to meet her eyes, but Jiang Sisi softly turned it back. She looked at her reddened eye corners, traced with a bit of moisture, then wiped at them.

They really were a little wet.

The proud Leng Xiang—the one who’d stormed off a variety show live broadcast years ago after a few words from her, who’d grit her teeth through years of suppression by Excellence Media—was crying on her bed.

Jiang Sisi felt a twinge of guilt, but another emotion, far more pleasurable, quietly bubbled up inside her.

Leng Xiang kept a wooden expression, thinking she must look pathetic.

She refused to meet her gaze, head down, silent.

Then she heard a gentle sigh from above.

Amid the guilt, Jiang Sisi found it endlessly amusing, which only added to her sense of sin.

“I’m sorry,” she said, ruffling her hair and wiping away her tears. “Please don’t cry.”