Chapter 92: Eighteen

Ye Can’s wave of hot searches brought another surge of traffic to Limbo Inn. Lin Zixi, who had been agonizing over Ye Can’s cupboard door that refused to close no matter what, felt a bit relieved after seeing some comments from random passersby that evening.

Ye Can’s overly straightforward words had driven her CP shippers absolutely wild, gobbling up the candy like maniacs. But to some outsiders, it just seemed like the usual entertainment industry tactic for hyping a ship. And since Lin Zixi was Ye Can’s manager, the two of them teaming up to sell the ship for buzz felt perfectly normal.

In some people’s eyes, true same-sex romance happened in quiet whispers in the world’s corners. It was soft, delicate—like secret murmurs between girls. Sacred and noble, like the low chants of a choir, not to be profaned by anyone’s loud clamoring.

They looked down on those hot, self-expressed emotions and bold declarations of love to the world. They scoffed, dismissing it as flashy noise, impure feelings.

So, the candid sincerity between people in the entertainment industry came off as mere playacting for mutual gain to fans and outsiders alike.

After this hot search storm, some veteran CP shippers actually cooled off. They started thinking Lin Zixi and Ye Can just had a great personal friendship, but it would never blossom into real romance.

Because in the entertainment world, stanning a legit CP was like hitting the jackpot.

Realizing this, some CP fans sighed that the big sis and little sis had a solid bond and hoped Ye Can would focus on her career. Someday, she might end up with Teacher Lin for real.

In the end, Ye Can picked up some haters griping about her hyping the ship, a loyal batch of CP shippers, and a new wave of career fans. With these three fanbases locked in, her traffic held steady through ups and downs.

Afterward, Lin Zixi lined up a few more interviews for Ye Can. One was with Jiang Yue; the rest were solo gigs. But no matter who she was with, Ye Can trotted out a super perfunctory business persona. Her expression stayed icy, like she couldn’t be bothered by anything.

Compared to her vibe during the joint interview with Lin Zixi, it was blatant double standards. And the CP shippers <i>loved it. They even made comparison edits of Ye Can’s various interviews versus her clips with Lin Zixi, squealing and eating candy the whole time.

Though her two roles in Limbo Inn had reeled in countless fans for Ye Can, she was still short of going mega-viral. So her Favorability stalled around 107 before starting a slow climb.

To rack up more Favorability, she needed more exposure. But Ye Can couldn’t squeeze extra mileage from her current channels right away. While keeping a baseline of activity, she dove into studying more acting techniques.

On February 10th, the movie Ye Shen invested in officially started filming.

Before shooting began, Lin Zixi gave the script its official title: Things Unknown to Others.

When Ye Can spotted the new name on the script’s cover, she griped to Lin Zixi, “Why not just call it ‘Secrets’ and be done with it?”

Lin Zixi smiled. “Things Unknown to Others—aren’t those just secrets?”

For every underage teen in puberty, it seemed there were some secrets they couldn’t voice.

For Xiao Shi, her secret was simple: grow up fast, get out of this house and away from her father.

So her story began on the last morning of her sixteenth year.

Early autumn, dawn, the air chilled. Eerie cold currents slithered through the dim room, tinting everything icy and devoid of any human warmth.

In the bluish gloom indoors, only the kitchen glowed with a single orange lamp. The chop-chop-chop of knife on board echoed from there. As the viewpoint swayed, a teenage girl’s figure sharpened into focus.

She wore a baggy blue-and-white school uniform that clung to her skinny frame, making her look even thinner.

Her single ponytail swung as one hand wielded the knife, the other gripped the vegetable. Blade rose and fell—clean, precise cuts.

A warm lantern hung over her head, trying to bathe this lone girl in a hint of homey glow.

Creak. The master bedroom door swung open. A woman, tousling her messy hair and yawning, shuffled out.

Blinking sleepy eyes, she eyed the girl dumping chopped cabbage into the pot and muttered, “Cabbage again? Cabbage every damn time!”

“I’ve told you a million times, I don’t drink porridge!”

The girl’s hand trembled. The woman cursed under her breath as she stomped into the bathroom.

A middle-aged man in a tank top shuffled out in slippers, sighing helplessly, “Say less.” Then he trailed the woman into the bathroom.

Moments later, a little boy wailed for “Mama!” and toddled out.

Soon, the woman’s cooing at the kid mixed with the man’s razor scrape, shattering the early autumn hush in a cacophony.

The girl kept her eyes down, ignoring the bustle. Silently, she set the steaming porridge on the table with side dishes, waiting for the family.

The woman soon plopped down with the kid. The girl sat invisible in the corner, slurping her own bowl fast.

Eyeing the bland spread, the woman griped, “Can’t even fry an egg? Don’t you know your brother’s growing?”

The girl said nothing, finished her porridge in a flash, and stood as her father took his seat. Voice low, she said, “Need to pay school fees today. Two hundred yuan.”

She held out her hand. Before the father could speak, the woman barked, “Two hundred? You’re robbing us! Tests cost <i>that much? You burn the most cash at home. School, school—what good’s school?!”

“Might as well work!”

The man looked awkward, staring at his daughter’s hand. Finally, he pulled out the cash. Still helpless, he muttered, “Say less,” and placed it in her palm.

The girl took the money, said a flat “thanks,” shouldered her bag, and left.

As she turned, the woman’s rant chased her—girls’ education wasted, neighbor kid her age slinging factory work, bringing home stacks of cash.

The man: “Say less.”

Creak. Door shut. The complaints, shadowing the girl like a curse, were blocked by that one barrier, unable to reach her anymore.

Bag on back, the girl exhaled long. She looked up through the web of power lines at a faint cold gleam piercing the overcast sky. Her mood stayed heavy.

<i>Such weather—rain’s coming. Whatever, no grabbing an umbrella.

Rain scared her less than the suffocating vibe inside.

As usual, she headed to school. Weekly quiz—she topped the class again. A delinquent in the back row flashed a mocking grin.

Lunch: cheapest tray, corner seat. Class delinquents sauntered up behind with their bowls, loudly mocking her harsh stepmom and lame dad. Said even college wouldn’t help her.

Wilder rumors too—like her stepmom had already sold her off for a fat bride price to some guy.

The girl pretended not to hear the filth, finished eating in silence, and slipped away.

Dusk, dismissal—rain poured as expected. No umbrella, so she huddled under the eaves, waiting it out. Thuggy boys whistled at her, jeering stuff like, “Heard you’ll spread ’em for cash, right?”

Frowning, she shifted away, trying to escape the creeps.

The thugs pressed on, cornering her, one grabbing her wrist and yanking her close. “How ’bout it? One night with big bro, and he gives you a grand?”

She scowled, twisting her wrist hard. “Let go!”

He sneered. “Oh, playing pure?”

His hand reached for her chin. But in that split-second crisis, a pebble sliced through the rain curtain, smacking his hand hard.

Thwack. He yelped, releasing her in pain.

He whipped around toward the pounding downpour.

Through the thick veil, on the steps ahead stood a handsome teen in white shirt and black slacks, short black hair, holding a black umbrella.

He held it up, lips curving in a smile. “Being so rough with a girl… not cool, huh.”

The thug, provoked, balled his fist and snarled from under the eaves, “You meddling punk! Think you’re untouchable?”

“My fist’ll teach ya.”

He swung wild, charging down the steps at the boy’s face. The boy sidestepped umbrella-first amid splashing rain. The thug barreled past, caught a side kick, and tumbled hard.

Splat. He ate dirt in a puddle.

His buddies snapped to, lunging at the boy on the steps.

Umbrella raised, the boy climbed steadily, dodging punches, inching toward the girl.

By the final step, every thug writhed in the rain.

Back to the torrent, he handed the umbrella to the girl with a smile. “Xiao Shi, take this home. Don’t catch a cold.”

Stunned, she blurted, “How do you know my name?”

He said, “Of course I know. I know <i>everything about you.”

“Cut!” the director called. Ye Can wrapped all her scenes for day one on set.

After, she touched the wig on her head, sidled up to Lin Zixi, poked her, and asked, “Did you ever crush on guys like that back in the day?”