Chapter 54

Half an hour later, Pei Shuang finally sang herself out and tossed the microphone aside.

After getting drunk and throwing a drunken tantrum that nearly drove the entire audience mad, she fell asleep guilt-free in Zhong Xin’s arms.

Zhong Xin held her and smiled at everyone in the private room. “Sorry about that. I didn’t expect her singing to have such destructive power.”

The crowd had survived a near-death experience.

Jiang Sisi rolled her eyes at Zhong Xin. “How long have you two known each other? We might not know, but surely you knew she’s tone-deaf?”

Zhong Xin looked innocent. “I really didn’t. Usually, I sing for her to listen. She’s never sung for me.”

She knew her singing could kill, so of course she never dared to.

Jiang Sisi was caught off guard by a faceful of their affection, feeling utterly drained. She waved them off. “Alright, alright. You haven’t even made up yet and you’re already showing off in front of me. You’re an eyesore—get lost.”

Zhong Xin happily half-carried, half-hugged Pei Shuang away.

Once Pei Shuang and Zhong Xin left, Jiang Sisi wanted to call it a night right there—everyone go home to their own mothers. But Yi Jing held her back. “Hey, don’t go. Now that they’re gone, we can keep playing. Everyone’s here anyway, right?”

This group was all Jiang Sisi’s friends—fox friends and dog companions from the same circle, plus some from the crew. Apart from a few locals, they were mostly people too lazy to go home for the New Year. They all knew each other by sight.

There wasn’t much point in going back to their places anyway, so they might as well keep playing.

With Yi Jing’s say-so, everyone nodded in agreement.

Yeah, yeah. It had been ages since they’d sung. Perfect chance to warm up their throats. They were out to have fun—might as well have fun.

So they stayed in the KTV.

With Pei Shuang gone, the song lovers finally got their chance to shine and rushed to pick songs. The non-singers looked around blankly before forming a gaming circle.

Jiang Sisi was exhausted from the night’s chaos. She lazily lifted her eyelids. “What do you all want to play?”

Yi Jing rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pile of board game cards, slamming them on the table—Zhajinhua, Doudizhu, eighteen kinds of games for their picking. Anything they wanted.

In the end, they unimaginatively settled on Doudizhu.

Three players per round, the rest crowded around to watch. Losers stepped down for the next player and had to accept a punishment.

The makeup artist raised her hand. “Director Jiang, what’s the punishment for losing?”

Jiang Sisi thought for a moment. “Drink.”

She was good at that.

The crowd let out a massive chorus of boos.

“We can’t stand a thousand-cup-not-drunk type like you suggesting drinks. Have some shame, Director Jiang.”

“Cowardly. Super cowardly.”

“Real friends play for real stakes, Director Jiang!”

Jiang Sisi threw up her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. You say it—what’s the punishment for losing?”

Yi Jing was eager. “I’ve got a Truth or Dare deck here. Wanna give it a try?”

Sure.

Jiang Sisi was pushed up first, and Yi Jing sat down too.

In the first round, Jiang Sisi had good luck and drew landlord, beating both peasants.

The two peasants each drew a Truth card and read them aloud.

One peasant read, “Who do you think is the most hypocritical person here?”

Everyone stared at him.

“…”

“I’m the most hypocritical, okay? I’m the most hypocritical. Everyone else is a real one—thanks, folks.”

The crowd booed again.

The friend who couldn’t handle it was booted off.

The other peasant, Yi Jing, drew a card and read, “Is there anyone here you like?”

The room went silent, eyes lighting up.

Yi Jing went silent too.

“Whoa, really? Who? Spill it!”

Yi Jing put the card back. “Yes, but I can’t say. Thanks, everyone.”

The crowd angrily shoved this equally weak friend off too.

As Yi Jing was squeezed out, he subtly glanced at Jiang Sisi, but she was focused on the next round’s cards and didn’t notice.

Jiang Sisi won three rounds straight before finally losing the fourth.

The rules were twisted like that—once you were up, early or late, you’d face a punishment. No escaping unscathed.

Jiang Sisi honored the bet and reached for a Dare card.

Everyone crowded around curiously.

She was the first to dare pick a Dare.

“Call the 35th person on your recent WeChat contacts and confess to them.”

Jiang Sisi awkwardly clutched the card, regretting not picking Truth. No one would know if it was real or fake anyway.

The crowd went wild with cheers. They skipped the next round—no more singing. Everyone gathered to watch Jiang Sisi make the call.

The deputy director, belly protruding, egged her on. “Old Jiang, be a man and don’t chicken out. Backing down now? I’d really look down on you.”

“Go for it, Director Jiang! Confess!”

“Confess! Confess! Confess!”

Legend had it that in this circle, Jiang Sisi was a notorious playboy, indiscriminate with gender. Yet there were no rumors of her actually being with anyone.

For the past four or five years, no one had heard of Jiang Sisi in a confirmed relationship.

So what was the deal with her playboy reputation?

Jiang Sisi grabbed her phone from the table. “Fine. A bet’s a bet.”

She unlocked it. She had two WeChat accounts: a private one for close industry friends, and a work one for looser professional contacts, plus Black Pool Bar staff and patrons who didn’t know her identity.

Both contact lists were massive, covering half the entertainment and business worlds.

She switched to the private one and scrolled down her recent contacts.

35th: Song Limo.

Jiang Sisi was speechless.

The crowd exchanged looks. “You really gonna call?”

Song Limo was the nation’s top goddess, famously aloof and indifferent. Now with a lover and a daughter, who would dare joke with her like that?

Jiang Sisi dialed the WeChat call anyway and put it on speaker.

It connected quickly.

Song Limo’s cold voice came through. “What?”

A hint of anger was detectable.

Jiang Sisi hesitated to speak.

The crowd didn’t dare utter a word.

Jiang Sisi coughed twice. “Uh, I just wanted to say… I like you.”

Song Limo cut her off crisply. “Scram.”

Jiang Sisi: “…”

The onlookers wanted to laugh but held it in, faces strained.

Jiang Sisi felt awkward. “Can’t you give me some face?”

Song Limo: “Please. Aren’t you playing Truth or Dare?”

Jiang Sisi: “…Yeah.”

Playing games with this woman was no fun—she guessed it in seconds.

The crowd shook their heads and dispersed. Boring. Time for the next round.

Song Limo suddenly said, “Where are you now? The KTV next to Black Pool Bar?”

Was she psychic?

Jiang Sisi: “Yeah.”

Song Limo: “I’m coming over. Let me crash for a bit.”

Jiang Sisi was baffled. “What’s up with you?”

Song Limo: “Nowhere to go. Don’t ask. It’s the New Year—I’ll explain when I get there.”

…

Whoa. Song Limo herself was coming.

The crowd looked at Jiang Sisi with pure admiration.

After Jiang Sisi hung up, Yi Jing chimed in. “That doesn’t count. Song Limo knows you too well. She guessed in two sentences. No fun—redo.”

The crowd joined the fake uproar. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t count. Redo.”

Jiang Sisi spread her hands. “You’re cheating. I already confessed.”

The makeup artist giggled. “Aw, Director Jiang, we want to see a sincere, heartfelt confession. Grant our wish?”

Jiang Sisi was usually so unflappable. It’d be no fun if she didn’t eat a little humble pie this time.

Jiang Sisi: “…It’s not a confession to you.”

Even as she said it, she opened her recent contacts again. The crowd randomly picked 28, so she counted down to the 28th.

Jiang Sisi’s eyes widened.

Leng Xiang.

Their last chat was from a few days ago, when she’d assigned her homework.

She had to admit, when she’d sent that 48-page assignment list plus twelve whole books, she’d done it with a mischievous streak.

She wondered how Leng Xiang’s holiday was going.

How much of that 48 pages had she done?

Jiang Sisi stared blankly at her phone. The deputy director squeezed next to her and peeked.

Jiang Sisi quickly covered it.

It was just a dare—easy to explain later. But she really didn’t want to joke with Leng Xiang like this.

Not one bit.

The deputy director’s eyes lit up at the name. He crowed smugly. “Old Jiang, it’s Xiangxiang! Call her!”

Jiang Sisi shot him a look. “Is Xiangxiang someone trash like you can call?”

Someone clueless nearby asked, “Xiangxiang? Isn’t that Director Jiang’s cat at home?”

Crew members quickly briefed the ignorant friend on the difference between Xiangxiang and Xiangxiang.

“Oh, got it—”

“Call her! Call her! Call her!”

“Confess! Confess! Confess!”

The deputy director was shameless. Free show? Why not. He added, “Old Jiang, let me tell you, Xiangxiang’s a good kid. Remember when you asked if I had a thing for Leng Xiang? No way. That day, you were watching the monitor, and Leng Xiang suddenly turned her head aside. I was curious and leaned over to look.”

He lowered his voice mysteriously. “Guess who Leng Xiang was looking at?”

The answer was obvious.

Jiang Sisi didn’t want to hear it at all.

The deputy director slapped her back. “You. She was looking at you.”

Jiang Sisi stared at the chat window.

Truth be told, she hadn’t completely missed Leng Xiang’s gaze that day.

The direction she’d turned— a quick think told her exactly what Leng Xiang was looking at.

But she hadn’t dared look up, just quietly watched the monitor feed.

Watching Leng Xiang.

Her seatmate deputy director moved fast, reaching out to tap her phone twice and hit the WeChat call button.

He yanked his hand back. “No need to thank me.”

Jiang Sisi: “…”

The crowd’s eyes widened, watching intently.

As the WeChat call interface rang, her heart pounded wildly.

Don’t pick up.

Don’t pick up.

Jiang Sisi silently chanted.

Please don’t pick up.

She couldn’t say it.

The call rang for a full minute. No answer.

Jiang Sisi breathed a sigh of relief.

The just-now suicidal deputy director saw it fail and shrank back, pretending to be a giant mushroom wall painting.

Why didn’t she pick up?

Come initial seventh, back on set—would Jiang Sisi make his life hell?

The crowd was disappointed. No show. Friends not from the crew were curious about this Leng Xiang, but no answer meant nothing to do.

They started the next round of cards.

Jiang Sisi sat out this time, quietly scrolling her phone on the side.

She’d been browsing Weibo, watching funny short videos.

She laughed out loud now and then, trying to ignore the inexplicable disappointment when Leng Xiang hadn’t picked up.

Ten minutes later, her phone screen lit up with an incoming WeChat call.

The sound was loud, and her heart went “thump thump thump.”

Pathetically, Jiang Sisi held her breath.

It was Leng Xiang.

Leng Xiang had called her back.