Chapter 66

Jiang Sisi carried Leng Xiang on her back as they walked back to the hotel.

Leng Xiang had only managed to pull her socks on haphazardly; she hadn’t put on her shoes, afraid they would rub against the wounds on the soles of her feet. Her feet dangled at Jiang Sisi’s side, swaying back and forth, and her sock slipped down a little, revealing a small section of her snow-white ankle.

Jiang Sisi walked steadily, and Leng Xiang, sprawled on her back, barely felt any jolting.

Jiang Sisi wore a white, soft down jacket without a scarf. Leng Xiang’s gaze shifted slightly as she looked at Jiang Sisi’s neck. A small patch of skin was exposed to the air there, delicate and fair. Leng Xiang quietly reached out and touched it.

It was cool.

She knew that it wasn’t just that small spot—Jiang Sisi’s entire body was cool.

She had felt the chill of Jiang Sisi’s body twice firsthand: once when she was delirious and feverish, pressing herself against Jiang Sisi, and once when she sat on top of her, leaning down to get close.

Leng Xiang’s face flushed slightly. She leaned closer to that small patch of skin, her gaze lingering on the fair expanse.

She tilted her face and pressed her cheek against that small patch of skin.

Jiang Sisi felt an itch from her movement and said, “Don’t squirm around. It’s ticklish. Be careful or you might fall off.”

Leng Xiang ignored her and instead rubbed her face against Jiang Sisi’s neck.

Jiang Sisi hissed, then chuckled helplessly but said nothing more. She dutifully continued carrying her forward.

When they entered the hotel, the lobby staff saw Jiang Sisi carrying someone and hurried over.

Jiang Sisi refused their help and carried Leng Xiang into the elevator, chatting with her along the way. “Look, everyone’s watching. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Leng Xiang buried her face in Jiang Sisi’s back, afraid of being recognized. Hearing this, she lifted her head. “Nope.”

Jiang Sisi tsked but didn’t press the issue.

The elevator dinged as it reached the seventeenth floor. Jiang Sisi carried her out into the empty hallway, with no one around.

As they headed toward Leng Xiang’s room, Jiang Sisi asked, “Where’s your room card?”

Leng Xiang freed one hand to fish it out of her jacket pocket and handed it over. “Here.”

Jiang Sisi, still carrying her, couldn’t free her own hands. She let out a helpless sigh. “Little ancestor, do you see any hands here to take the card?”

Leng Xiang glanced at the situation and said, “Oh.” She lowered herself on Jiang Sisi’s back, twisting her body to swipe the card against the door lock.

Jiang Sisi quickly steadied herself, even more helpless. “Careful, don’t fall off.”

They had completely forgotten about the option of simply putting Leng Xiang down so she could open the door herself.

The door clicked open. Jiang Sisi kicked it wider and carried Leng Xiang straight into the bathroom.

She found two small stools in the corner of the bathroom, gave one to Leng Xiang, and sat on the other. She reached up to take the showerhead off the wall, turned on the hot water, tested the temperature with her hand, and instructed, “Take off your socks.”

Leng Xiang was still in her bridesmaid dress. The script required her to run barefoot in that scene, and all the skin visible in the shot had to be bare. The socks she’d hastily pulled on had slipped down during the walk, now dangling precariously at half-mast.

The exposed half of her ankle was slender and thin-skinned, fair and translucent under the bathroom’s warm yellow light, like a piece of fine mutton-fat jade.

Leng Xiang took off her socks, revealing her bare feet.

Those feet weren’t pretty at the moment. She’d run barefoot down the road, and they were covered in morning dew and dirt, with the soles blackened.

Jiang Sisi adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature, rolled up her sleeves, tossed the socks into the trash, held the showerhead in one hand, and grasped Leng Xiang’s ankle with the other, lifting her foot slightly.

Leng Xiang flinched and tried to pull her foot back. “I can do it myself.”

Jiang Sisi glanced down. “Don’t move.”

Jiang Sisi held her ankle as the hot water rushed over it. Tiny pebbles were embedded in the sole of her foot, which had gone numb from the cold, so she hadn’t felt the pain before. Now, the sting hit her all at once.

Leng Xiang trembled. “It hurts.”

Jiang Sisi didn’t look up, continuing to flush out the small wounds. She pinched her foot and said calmly, “Bear with it. Don’t move.”

Jiang Sisi carefully washed the wounds clean bit by bit. As the temperature rose and blood circulation improved, her feet, which had been frozen purple, gradually returned to a normal rosy pink.

Her feet were small and delicate, with water droplets clinging to her toes—pink, tender, and glistening. They were quite beautiful.

Unbeknownst to her, some water splashed onto Leng Xiang’s face. She blinked, and her cheeks quietly flushed.

Her ankle was still held in someone’s hand, the back of her foot caressed meticulously by those hands. Her circulation sped up, making the wounds on her soles hurt more and more.

But she couldn’t focus on the pain anymore—her face grew even redder.

Jiang Sisi compared her own hand to Leng Xiang’s foot and sighed in admiration, “So small.”

Leng Xiang’s ears turned red. She desperately wanted to kick out but stayed stiff, even trying to pull her foot back a little.

What was this…

This was way too intimate…

Once both feet were cleaned and dried, Jiang Sisi had Leng Xiang stand on her own and fetched a pair of slippers, helping her put them on.

Leng Xiang stood on tiptoe, wobbling unsteadily. The moment the top of her foot touched the slipper, the pain was excruciating.

Only then did she realize how bad it hurt. The hot water had made it throb even more, bringing tears to her eyes.

She shuffled slowly to the bed in the slippers and flopped down.

She remembered arriving on the Luxury Goods crew just a few days into filming when her calf had been bruised and swollen badly, purple and oozing blood. Back then, she hadn’t thought it was that serious or painful.

But after three months on set, right before leaving, why had she become so delicate?

Leng Xiang reflected on this and turned her head to watch Jiang Sisi pull out the medicine kit from under the bedside table and rummage through it for ointment.

Jiang Sisi noticed her gaze and looked up. “What’s wrong?”

Leng Xiang silently turned away.

It was all because someone had spoiled her into being this delicate.

Jiang Sisi found a tube of ointment, sat on the edge of the bed, pinched Leng Xiang’s ankle, squeezed out a dollop, and pressed it onto the sole of her foot.

Leng Xiang felt both itchy and painful. She clutched the blanket, wanting to scoot back into the bed, but her ankle was still gripped in Jiang Sisi’s hand—she couldn’t move.

Leng Xiang said, “Lighter, lighter.”

Jiang Sisi pressed down harder.

Leng Xiang collapsed onto the bed in pain, grimacing, but the itch made her want to laugh too.

Lying on the bed, after laughing it off, Leng Xiang lifted her hand to cover her eyes.

Her foot was still in Jiang Sisi’s hand, and the room suddenly fell silent.

Leng Xiang turned her head to look at Jiang Sisi.

Jiang Sisi put away the ointment and looked back.

Their eyes met. Jiang Sisi’s gaze flickered away, and she turned her head.

Leng Xiang said softly, “Why are you so good to me?”

Jiang Sisi didn’t speak.

She tugged at the corner of her mouth, smiled, and said, “You…”

Leng Xiang interrupted her, staring straight at her. “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while, but I never got the chance.”

“I know you’re good to everyone. You have countless friends in the industry—not just me, but Luo Pi and Song Limo too. You’re good to them as well. But I just want to ask you one thing.”

“At the press conference a few days ago, when you said those things to the reporters, were you just saying them for the media, or were they sincere?”

Jiang Sisi looked into her eyes.

There seemed to be a bright, flickering flame in Leng Xiang’s eyes—too warm, too intense, almost scorching her.

Jiang Sisi’s first instinct was to reach for it. She extended her hand toward that blazing flame until her fingers brushed warm, delicate skin. Only then did she realize she’d unconsciously touched Leng Xiang’s face. She snapped back to awareness and pulled her hand away.

The flame in Leng Xiang’s eyes dimmed instantly.

Jiang Sisi took a deep breath.

Leng Xiang closed her eyes briefly, turned away, and said flatly, “I understand. You can go now. I need to rest.”

Jiang Sisi stood up and took a few steps before turning back. She paused, lips pressed together, and said, “…I was sincere.”

“Every word I said to the media was sincere.”

Leng Xiang jerked her head up, but Jiang Sisi had already left.

The door closed gently behind her with a soft click.

…

Jiang Sisi threw herself back into the hectic wrap-up work on the movie. A day later, Pei Shuang wrapped too, and they packed their things together in the room.

With wrapping complete, they could head back to the city.

Leng Xiang didn’t have much stuff—just enough to fill half a suitcase. As she packed, she rummaged through a hidden compartment and pulled out a photo.

The edges of the photo were yellowed, clearly aged.

It was a photo of Jiang Sisi from her youth. Last time, when packing, she’d accidentally found it in the compartment. She’d hated Jiang Sisi back then, scowled, and shoved it back in.

She hadn’t expected it to turn up again.

She stared at the photo in a daze. Pei Shuang saw she hadn’t moved for a while and leaned over. Upon seeing it, she exclaimed in surprise, “Who’s this?”

Pei Shuang peered closer. “Is this Director Jiang? How many years old is this photo? It looks so worn.”

“It’s from when she was hosting Welcome to Star,” Leng Xiang said. “I really liked her back then.”

Pei Shuang stared at her in horror.

Leng Xiang folded her clothes and continued reminiscing.

That day, in a heat-of-the-moment impulse, she’d blurted it out without thinking. But now, calmly reflecting, she could feel that Jiang Sisi liked her—and not in a platonic, friends way, but the same as her own feelings.

Jiang Sisi had said she was sincere, and Leng Xiang believed her.

But Jiang Sisi was also resisting her.

More precisely, Jiang Sisi wasn’t resisting her—she was resisting a stable relationship.

Jiang Sisi liked her; Leng Xiang was eighty percent sure.

Jiang Sisi took meticulous care of her and worried about her, but she just wouldn’t make it explicit.

It was all vague, and she even tried to cover it up.

The more Jiang Sisi acted like this, the calmer Leng Xiang became.

Why was that?

She suddenly remembered what Li Guchuan had once told her.

“I’ve known her since we were kids—nobody understands her better than I do. Don’t let her tough act fool you; she’s all bark, no bite, super fragile. Just be patient with her.”

…

“Don’t buy her playboy act. Back in college, she secretly liked a woman for four or five years, and that person probably still doesn’t know. She’s such a coward about it.”

…

Leng Xiang tucked the photo back into the compartment and continued packing.

Suddenly, she felt like she’d grasped a crucial thread, an important one.