Chapter 52

Jiang Sisi felt there was nothing much to say about Xiao Yue.

She was just someone she had loved many years ago.

Someone she loved, while that person’s heart was entirely occupied by another.

An unrequited crush that ended without fanfare—ask anyone in the crew if they had ever longed for someone unattainable, and eight out of ten could list a few names.

To Jiang Sisi, Xiao Yue was that unattainable person, the only blemish in her life, a hurdle she hadn’t crossed even after all these years.

She knew clearly that even now, she still hadn’t gotten over that hurdle.

It wasn’t that she still harbored feelings for Xiao Yue. Really, it wasn’t.

The scars from back then ran too deep to erase.

She simply couldn’t pretend those past events had never happened.

She couldn’t be that detached.

Jiang Sisi frowned. “Why did you tell her about that?”

Li Guchuan chuckled. “You don’t want me mentioning it to her?”

Jiang Sisi thought Li Guchuan could be really sick sometimes. It was something from so many years ago, yet he had to dredge it up.

An inexplicable irritation stirred in her heart, mingled with a touch of guilt.

Jiang Sisi mocked herself inwardly. Why should I feel guilty about this?

Why let Leng Xiang know about it?

Why tell her?

Jiang Sisi waved her hand. “No, just don’t go around telling others about my business anymore. See if people even want to know? It’s so boring.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Li Guchuan muttered behind her, “I thought she was pretty interested.”

It was nothing more than that.

The next day, Jiang Sisi announced in the crew’s WeChat group that the team would start their New Year holiday from tomorrow—no shooting today. Everyone should pack up and head home to visit their families.

The entire crew erupted in joy, celebrating wildly.

Seeing everyone so happy, Jiang Sisi quickly sent out dozens of red packets.

The crowd cheered for Emperor Jiang, wishing her long life, good health, a happy New Year, and festive greetings.

The holiday ran from the twenty-ninth of the twelfth lunar month to the sixth of the first. Work resumed bright and early on the seventh.

The crew was filming in the far suburbs of B City, so they chartered several cars to shuttle everyone back to the city center.

Leng Xiang packed her suitcase and boarded one of the cars heading back.

Her rented apartment was between the third and fourth ring roads north, not far from the filming location.

When she got off, she said goodbye to Wang Linlin, who flashed her a big smile. “Sister Leng Xiang, happy New Year in advance! See you next year!”

Leng Xiang paused. “Happy New Year.”

She added, “See you next year.”

Wang Linlin wasn’t local and was heading back to her hometown for the holiday.

The car was crowded and lively. Leng Xiang glanced out the window one more time and saw Jiang Sisi smiling at her through the glass.

She mouthed something.

Probably “goodbye.”

Jiang Sisi didn’t get out to see her off.

The car sped away amid laughter, chatter, and exhaust fumes.

Leng Xiang dragged her suitcase into the complex and toward her building.

She opened the door, and a wave of dust from long neglect hit her. She hadn’t been back in nearly two months and hadn’t hired anyone to clean.

Leng Xiang tossed her suitcase aside, grabbed a relatively clean rag from the kitchen, and wiped down the sofa.

She flung the rag away and collapsed onto the sofa, motionless.

The room was utterly quiet. She considered calling a hourly cleaner but then thought better of it. As a public figure, one slip could expose her address—a real hassle.

She’d have to do it herself.

But right now, she didn’t want to move. She just wanted to slump there.

She’d sleep first.

With that thought, Leng Xiang closed her eyes and slowly curled up.

…

Leng Xiang slept deeply into the night. When she woke, she turned on all the lights, made herself a meal, ate, and then cleaned until one in the morning. She showered, washed her hair, and collapsed into bed.

Even after all that work and her long afternoon nap, she couldn’t sleep.

She burrowed under the covers, mulling over her holiday plans.

She never celebrated New Year. If she went home, Liu Lingshu and her husband would skin her alive.

No visiting relatives—she had no friends anyway. No gatherings. She had a full seven days to do her own thing.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed under the blanket.

Leng Xiang fished it out and opened it to find a string of messages from Jiang Sisi.

Jiang Sisi: This is your winter break homework. Please check and receive.

Jiang Sisi: The chief director solemnly reminds you: Ten thousand New Year rules, homework is rule one. Fail to complete it, and you’ll shed two rows of tears on the first day back.

Jiang Sisi: I am watching you.jpg

Leng Xiang: “…”

Leng Xiang angrily flipped off her phone.

Fuck off.

Am I an idiot for falling for her?

On the third day of the New Year, Shen Cheng dropped by.

Shen Cheng carried bags of fruits and vegetables. She knocked on Leng Xiang’s door. After a while, it opened.

Leng Xiang looked unwashed and unkempt, her hair a mess. She squinted at Shen Cheng for a moment before stepping aside to let her in.

Leng Xiang was still in her pajamas. With the heating on, she padded barefoot across the floor to the kitchen to pour water.

As soon as Shen Cheng entered the living room, she saw the carpet strewn with scattered script papers.

Shen Cheng: “…”

What the hell?

Leng Xiang said nothing, shoved a cup into her hand, and returned to sit on the floor.

She looked utterly low-energy.

Shen Cheng asked cautiously, “What’s this?”

Leng Xiang replied, “Homework.”

Shen Cheng: “Homework?”

Shen Cheng asked curiously, “You have to do homework while filming a movie?”

Leng Xiang slammed her pen down expressionlessly. In just a few days, she’d gone through two or three fountain pens.

Leng Xiang sneered, “Yeah, someone just can’t stand seeing me have a couple of idle days. Seven-day holiday, and she dumped forty-eight pages of homework on me.”

Shen Cheng: “…”

This was harder than her own senior year of high school.

Shen Cheng flipped through the papers and books on the floor.

They were mostly acting textbooks and notes from film industry veterans. After assigning the homework, Jiang Sisi had asked for her address and had the books delivered via same-city express the next day.

Shen Cheng skimmed them, marveling. “Getting these books must’ve taken effort. Who’s putting this much thought into you?”

Leng Xiang: “…”

She wouldn’t admit the tiny spark of joy in her heart.

Seeing no answer, Shen Cheng didn’t press and changed the subject. “Speaking of which, your movie’s almost wrapped, right?”

Leng Xiang was scribbling furiously. At the question, her pen paused, then she bent her head back to writing. “Pretty much. Another month, and it should be done.”

Shen Cheng counted on her fingers. “So you’ll finish in March. The company’s got a great gig lined up for March. Want to try for it?”

Leng Xiang didn’t look up. “Sure, I’ll take it.”

Shen Cheng, who had more to say, was cut off. “You won’t even ask what it is?”

“Doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it pays.” Leng Xiang said, “The company’s finally not taking their cut, so I might as well earn as much as I can. I want to buy a place soon—look at these housing prices.”

Leng Xiang tsked. “That apartment I had back then? Bought it for under ten thousand, sold it for thirty thousand. Now it’s over fifty or sixty thousand. Not worth it.”

Good awareness.

Shen Cheng nodded. “Buy while you’re young. Prices will keep rising—wait too long, and it’ll be over a hundred thousand. I’ll lock in that gig for you then. Pay’s pretty high.”

Leng Xiang didn’t look up. “Okay.”

Shen Cheng stayed for lunch. They chatted a bit more, then she left.

Leng Xiang dove back into her writing. Less than half an hour later, she heard faint knocks at the door.

The knocks were very soft. If the room hadn’t been so quiet, she might not have noticed.

They sounded a few times, then stopped.

Leng Xiang figured it was a wrong door and ignored it. Then the knocking resumed.

Still very soft.

Had Shen Cheng forgotten something?

This address was known only to Shen Cheng and Jiang Sisi. Could it be Jiang Sisi?

Puzzled, Leng Xiang got up and opened the door. Standing there was the last person she expected.

As soon as she recognized the figure, her face changed. She slammed the door shut with a “bang.”

She leaned against it, bracing it shut, and clenched her teeth.

Outside stood Liu Lingshu.

Her bloodsucking mother.

Liu Lingshu, seeing Leng Xiang open the door, finally relaxed and showed a cold, eerie smile.

She was still strikingly beautiful, even in her decayed state—hints of her former loveliness lingered in her features.

She extended a withered, skinny hand and knocked again.

As long as it was Leng Xiang inside, her mind was at ease.

It was the holidays, her husband had gone gambling again and lost another sum. She couldn’t pay up. The loan sharks demanded settlement during New Year, coming daily to smash things until she thought she’d lose everything. If not for her age, they might have dragged her off to sell.

Money meant peace, a way to keep living.

But where would she get money? After calculating, she only had this daughter left.

Leng Xiang had changed her number and address. In vast B City, she didn’t know where to find her. Day after day, she staked out Shen Cheng’s place, figuring Shen Cheng would lead her to Leng Xiang eventually.

She’d waited a long time. Finally, she got lucky.

Though they had agreed that after she paid off the last debt, they were done.

But how could it end like that?

She’d birthed her, raised her to fifteen. Helping the family repay debts was her duty.

Liu Lingshu kept knocking persistently, louder each time, since Leng Xiang wouldn’t open.

Liu Lingshu said, “Xiangxiang, I know you can hear me. Open up, let’s talk, okay?”

Leng Xiang didn’t react.

Liu Lingshu continued, “Xiangxiang, this complex looks pretty upscale. You don’t want others hearing, right? Open the door, I’ll say a few words and leave. Quick, won’t hold you up.”

Leng Xiang stayed silent.

Liu Lingshu smiled faintly. “Xiangxiang, I hear actors care more about face than the heavens. You don’t want the world knowing what kind of family you have, do you?”

Leng Xiang nearly ground her teeth to dust.

Of course she heard—through the thin door, crystal clear.

Liu Lingshu had precisely, viciously seized her weakness.

The door finally creaked open. Though her daughter didn’t even glance at her, Liu Lingshu was thrilled.

She hadn’t come empty-handed; she held a jar of pickled vegetables.

Liu Lingshu offered it to Leng Xiang. “Xiangxiang, you’ve loved this since you were little. I made it specially for you. Try it?”

Leng Xiang took the jar and casually tossed it outside.

It crashed loudly, rolling across the floor.

Leng Xiang braced the doorway, looking down at Liu Lingshu.

Liu Lingshu was half a head shorter, in a tattered cotton jacket, a smudge of dirt on her face. The jar’s fate didn’t faze her; she kept smiling.

“Xiangxiang…”

Leng Xiang cut her off sharply. “Don’t call me that.”

“Get to the point, or get lost.”