That night, Lin Zixi suffered a rare bout of insomnia.
This world was absolutely not fair. Especially after entering the entertainment industry and witnessing all sorts of class divisions firsthand, Lin Zixi had come to appreciate this truth even more deeply. If life was a relay race, then Lin Zixi—who had no one to rely on—had sprinted to this enviable stage through her own hard work and struggle.
But Ye Can was completely different. Ye Can had been born at the peak that others could only gaze up at from afar.
These days, the internet was full of people peddling chicken soup for the soul, claiming things like “Rich people have their worries too.” But Lin Zixi knew that the joys of truly wealthy people were beyond the imagination of ordinary folk. Otherwise, why would Jiang Yue climb so desperately, risking everything to touch that class?
Lin Zixi harbored no such ambitions. Her deepest wish had always been to live a good life. For that dream, she neither pinned her hopes on finding a well-born partner nor on latching onto someone else. Instead, she had taken one solid step at a time through her own efforts to reach where she was now.
Everyone was born as an isolated island. They could connect with others, but they could never place their hope for survival on anyone else.
That was why Lin Zixi never depended on others, nor did she fantasize about forming any intimate bonds.
She could extend a helping hand to Ye Can when she found her walking alone at night, patiently tolerate Ye Can’s occasional neurotic episodes when she was harmless as a kitten, and even foot the bill for Ye Can’s reckless actions after just one meeting. But that didn’t mean Lin Zixi could tolerate Ye Can’s blatant offenses.
Ye Can’s behavior tonight had crossed the line for Lin Zixi.
And this wasn’t the first time she’d encountered such an affront. The previous time, she’d drawn a firm line with the offender in no uncertain terms.
With that thought, Lin Zixi raised her hand to touch her forehead and let out a soft sigh in the dead of night.
For no reason at all, she recalled Ye Can’s eyes. Perhaps because she was still young, those clear, pure eyes held none of the hidden, murky desires she’d seen in others.
It won’t come to that, Lin Zixi thought. Ye Can’s just a bit neurotic at most—she probably doesn’t even understand romance yet. Tonight was probably just a bratty kid’s intermittent craziness, right?
After a night of tossing and turning, Lin Zixi finally drifted into a brief sleep at dawn.
Soon, she fell into a dream.
In the dream, Lin Zixi found herself seated high upon a throne. Below the throne stretched a vast hall.
A fierce wind like the wail of a wrathful ghost swept through the hall, scattering the thick mist of the dreamscape and revealing the true scene.
Blood slid from the frigid blade of a sword, dripping steadily onto the floor. A figure clad in a crimson king’s robe gripped the long sword, tilting her head as she stood in the center of the hall. She gazed down at the cluster of ministers kneeling before her, slowly raising the blade before her and wiping the blood from it with her long fingers.
The blood trailed slowly down the king’s fingertips as she stared at the sword and murmured to herself, “The sword is cold, the blood is warm. The weather’s turned chilly—who wants to warm my blade with their blood?”
The officials in the hall dropped to their knees without exception, shouting in unison, “Long live the King!”
Seated on the throne, Lin Zixi twitched her fingertips. Watching this absurd play unfold, she retained enough awareness to think, Am I dreaming of a Faint Lord butchering people in her audience hall?
Soon, the scene shattered. Lin Zixi followed the flow of her dream to a palace where white gauzes drifted on the wind everywhere.
In the dream, the dissolute king sat disheveled before a long desk, scribbling haphazardly on rice paper.
Lin Zixi saw the papers scattered across the floor, bent down to pick one up, and examined it closely.
Every sheet bore the words: “Human strength has its limits.”
As if hearing Lin Zixi’s movements, the Faint Lord looked up, smiled at her, and said, “Human strength isn’t just limited—it’s utterly useless.”
“Man must die someday, be it today or tomorrow.”
“My beloved consort, you look so radiant and beautiful today. I want to gaze upon you a little longer. Tomorrow, why don’t you die with me? How about it?”
Lin Zixi thought, I want to live a few more years—I have no desire to die. But when the words reached her lips, they became something else entirely.
She felt herself bowing toward the king and saying slowly, “Whatever Your Majesty decrees, it shall be.”
For a fleeting moment, Lin Zixi sensed the utter lifelessness in those words.
The Beauty chose death not out of threat to her life, but willingly.
She and the king could never be together in this lifetime.
Her thoughts halted there, and Lin Zixi jolted awake from the dream. She opened her eyes to the cold morning light filtering through the curtains into the room and raised a hand to her forehead.
Cold sweat beaded on her brow. She sat up, suddenly recalling the eyes she’d seen in the dream.
She couldn’t remember the king’s face, but she remembered her eyes. They were beautiful eyes, suggesting the king must have been a rare beauty.
Just like Ye Can.
Ye Can? The name flashed into her mind, and inspiration struck like lightning. Lin Zixi leaped from the bed, hurried to the desk, and opened her laptop.
She pulled up a document and, in the glow of the screen, quickly typed a few lines:
【1. Limbo Inn, Night, Interior
On a wintry night, a desolate wind blew past the empty entrance of the inn. After the lanterns swayed, a white-clad female ghost appeared at the door.
He Chuan slowly opened the inn door from inside and saw the ghost standing there.
He Chuan: “Welcome to Limbo Inn. What are you still seeking in this world?”
Female Ghost: I’m looking for someone.
He Chuan: Who?
Female Ghost: The King… Summer King of Yan—Can.】
For a creator, inspiration was vital. Even subconscious hints from dreams could serve as material.
Thanks to Ye Can’s harassment over the past couple of days—and this dream—Lin Zixi rapidly wrote half an episode’s script. Before long, daylight fully broke.
When Lin Zixi finally stopped typing, she realized the Faint Lord in this story was entirely modeled after Ye Can.
As a screenwriter, it was common to draw from people around her or historical figures for stories. Still, upon seeing the Faint Lord’s name as “Can,” Lin Zixi inexplicably clicked replace and changed the character to “You.”
After finishing this half-episode, Lin Zixi stretched lazily, planning to show the new script to Yu Ming and Jiang Yue afterward to see which version they preferred.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Lin Zixi glanced at the time—it was already 10 a.m. Thinking it was the coordinator urging her for the draft, she opened the door to find Ye Can instead.
Ye Can had swapped yesterday’s black outfit for a deep blue trench coat and sported a super cool pair of sunglasses.
Lin Zixi eyed Ye Can’s grown-up getup, then glanced at Tong Lin standing behind her with a meal cart, and hesitated. “What’s this?”
Ye Can adjusted her sunglasses and said coolly to Lin Zixi, “You slept until the sun was high in the sky and still hadn’t gotten up. I was afraid you’d starve to death, so I brought food.”
“But since you pissed me off yesterday, I’m not planning to look at you extra today.”
With that, Ye Can reached up and adjusted her sunglasses again.
Lin Zixi got it. So that’s your reason for the shades? Friend, do you know you can still see people through sunglasses?
She stared at her own reflection in Ye Can’s lenses, momentarily at a loss for words. Should she say thanks, or call her a total nutcase?
Seeing no response, Ye Can frowned, clearly annoyed. “Are you going to let me in or not?”
Remembering how Ye Can had shut down Tong Lin the night before, Lin Zixi replied calmly, “No. A girl’s bedroom isn’t for just anyone to enter.”
Ye Can was so shocked her sunglasses nearly fell off.
