Chapter 7: An Unexpected Encounter: Shen Jingsong Meets the Real Director Guo at the Racing Diner

Guo You was notoriously known as the iron-faced director, but even he had to bend a little for the sake of his investors.

He had poured his heart into <Eight Tones of Ganzhou>, going all out to cast talented actors with real strength. But the backers had their demands: the leads had to be big-name idols who could guarantee box office draw, certain supporting roles reserved for the investors’ “princes and princesses,” and extra scenes shoehorned in here and there.

Guo You had done his best to minimize the investors’ meddling, pouring extra effort into the rest of the casting and production design instead. That made him extra cautious in the lead-up to filming.

The auditions were brutally competitive.

Shen Jingsong didn’t have the clout or the connections. Her unyielding personality had rubbed plenty of industry bigwigs the wrong way, leaving her without even a chance to submit a proper introduction to Guo You.

By sheer coincidence, she received an invitation to Li Han’s engagement party. Knowing that Director Guo and his wife were from the same hometown as Xia Jie—and thus likely to attend—she decided to try her luck there.

She never imagined Mrs. Guo would cut her down like that or mock her as some kind of cabaret singer…

Shen Jingsong approached him with her wineglass in hand. Guo You seemed to sense her and looked up.

Haohao spotted Xia Zhuxi at the table behind Shen Jingsong and came running over in excitement. “Teacher Xia!”

“Haohao, careful!” Guo You called out hurriedly.

The little boy barreled forward recklessly, his shoe catching on the metal edge of a power outlet. He tumbled forward with a thud.

Shen Jingsong reacted swiftly, catching the child just in time.

Haohao knocked the wineglass from her hand. The liquid splashed all over her, leaving dark stains. She instinctively covered the sharp table corner with her hand. Haohao used her support to scramble to his feet, his head bumping gently into her soft palm.

“Are you okay, little one? Let Auntie wipe that clean for you,” Shen Jingsong said, ignoring her own disheveled state as she carefully dabbed at the water stains on the child’s cheeks with a napkin.

Haohao grabbed a napkin and held it out to her. “Thank you, fairy sister! You’re not an auntie—you’re a fairy! Fairy sister, you’re so pretty. You wipe too!”

“Thank you. What a sweet boy,” Shen Jingsong replied.

She stood up. Guo You was staring thoughtfully at her hand and the table corner. A moment later, his eyes met hers, and he gave her a grateful smile.

Shen Jingsong glanced down at her soiled dress, her expression awkward. “I’m so sorry to meet you like this. Hello, Director Guo. I’m Shen Jingsong from Qifeng Media.”

Guo You extended his hand for a shake. “Hello. I’m Guo You.” He patted his grandson’s head. “You might think it’s unfortunate, but I see this as your most genuine self.”

Shen Jingsong was a little surprised. Guo You led his grandson over to Xia Zhuxi’s table. “Xiao Xi, I’m sorry for standing you up last time.”

Xia Zhuxi scooped Haohao into her arms and handed him a toy race car model. “No need to apologize. Your work comes first.”

Last time?

Shen Jingsong felt like she was listening to a riddle.

Had Xia Zhuxi met with Guo You before this? To pull strings for her?

“Xiao Shen,” Guo You called.

Shen Jingsong responded at once. “Yes, Director Guo?”

“When Haohao called you ‘fairy,’ it reminded me of something.”

She listened intently. “Yes?”

“Ranran, the supporting character in <Eight Tones of Ganzhou>, adopts a bunch of destitute kids during her time in the mortal world. They all call her ‘fairy sister’ too.”

Ranran was a supporting role in the drama—a beautiful, strong, tragic exiled immortal. She didn’t have a ton of screen time, but the character was richly developed. It was the part Shen Jingsong coveted most.

Guo You pulled out his phone. “Mind if we exchange contacts?”

Shen Jingsong broke into a bright smile. “Thank you so much, Director Guo!”

But Guo You had more to say. “Actually, I should be thanking Xiao Xi.”

The words “Xiao Xi” landed like a pebble in the calm waters of Shen Jingsong’s heart, sending ripples outward.

Her thick lashes fluttered like butterfly wings as she turned with a beaming smile. “Thank you, Xiao Xi.”

She said it again, just to be sure.

Xia Zhuxi tilted her head, showing Haohao how to play with the race car model. “Glad I could help.”

A lock of hair fell over her ear.

Shen Jingsong noticed the way Xia Zhuxi tucked it back. Earlier, when she’d accidentally stared a moment too long, Xia Zhuxi had done the exact same little gesture.

Xia Zhuxi. Xia Zhuxi. Shen Jingsong repeated the younger woman’s name silently to herself, pondering how best to repay the favor.

Add in the engagement party debt, and she’d have to thank her plenty more times.

But how?

~~~

The black Alpha Romeo glided through the night.

“Teacher Shen, anywhere else you need to go?”

“Home.”

Two seconds passed before Shen Jingsong added, “Xiao Chen, do we have fruit at home?”

Her assistant Xiao Chen kept her eyes on the road. “Auntie restocked the fridge this afternoon—sweet oranges, strawberries, and mangoes.”

Xiao Chen was new on the job, not even a full week in.

“Let’s pick up some starfruit,” Shen Jingsong said. “I can’t eat mangoes. You can take them home.”

“I’m so sorry, Teacher Shen!” Xiao Chen blurted.

Shen Jingsong massaged her temple and leaned against the window, eyes closed. “It’s fine. Just remember for next time.”

She couldn’t eat mangoes. After even a bite, not just her face but her entire body would erupt in tiny red rashes. Even fruit teas with the slightest hint of mango juice were strictly off-limits.

Yet the server at the racing restaurant had insisted that Xia Zhuxi loved mangoes.

Xia Zhuxi had swapped out her favorite mango for starfruit, as if she knew about the allergy—and even knew that starfruit was Shen Jingsong’s favorite.

Shen Jingsong cracked her eyes open just a sliver. The car headlights and streetlights blurred into streaks of neon.

All at once, she remembered the little joke she’d made while signing in at the engagement banquet.

Xia Zhuxi’s eyes had been a little red back then, and she’d mumbled in a daze that she was her fan. Later, in the garden, she’d called her her idol and even stood up for her in front of Pei Ziying.

Shen Jingsong’s expression softened. Her fingers twirled the end of a lock of hair.

Whoa. It looked like she had herself a super dedicated stan—one who’d done her homework. She knew her favorite fruits. She even knew her allergens.

The car pulled up at a twenty-four-hour self-serve fresh fruit shop. Xiao Chen ran in, bought some starfruit, and they drove on into Bixi Huating.

Shen Jingsong opened the door. The motion-sensor light in the entryway flicked on automatically. She kicked off her high heels, handed the mangoes from the fridge to Xiao Chen, and stowed the starfruit inside.

Xiao Chen said her goodbyes. Shen Jingsong double-locked the door and settled onto the bay window in the living room.

She didn’t bother with the lights. The glow of the night outside seeped in through the gaps in the sheer curtains.

A month earlier, Wei the Parvenu had offered a hundred thousand for the privilege of buying her dinner for an hour. She’d turned him down flat to his face. Enraged, he’d tried to rip her clothes off. Shen Jingsong had dialed 110, then splashed a glass of red wine right in his face.

Not three days later, Qifeng Media received a lawyer’s letter from the man.

Qifeng’s president had torn into her and her agent Betty, screaming them bloody:

“President Wei just wanted dinner with you—not to sleep with you!

“Shen Jingsong, you think you can make it in this town without shedding a little blood? Fresh-faced newbies flood in every year like clockwork. Dozens of actors clawing their way up! You’re thirty, not twenty! Miss your shot at resources now, and you’ll end up doing porn or escort gigs!”

Shen Jingsong stretched out her arms and buried her face in them. She tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She knew exactly how brutal the industry was without connections or resources. These past years, she’d scraped by on hard work and raw talent alone. But her proud, thorny personality had rubbed plenty of people the wrong way, leaving her boxed in at every turn.

Even back at A Film Academy, her teachers had warned her that she wasn’t cut out for show business. But she was hooked on that deep immersion of acting—the total surrender to a role. She couldn’t walk away from it.

Luckily, she’d crossed paths with Xia Zhuxi, who pulled strings and tossed her Director Guo’s lifeline.

Shen Jingsong’s mood lifted a touch. She sliced up some starfruit and popped a piece into her mouth.

Her phone lit up on the coffee table. She’d silenced it earlier. Now it showed an incoming video call.

Shen Jingsong flicked on the light, propped the phone on its stand, and accepted. “Sister Betty.”

The screen filled with a frail face, etched by the years. But her smile brought warmth to every fine line.

A gentle voice emerged. “Jingjing, I’m on the mend. You just focus on work, all right?”

Shen Jingsong snatched up the phone, pulling it close. “Mom! How are you holding up? How’s the incision healing?”

“Cough cough cough.” Mama Shen hacked a few times. Then a stylish blonde woman appeared in frame.

She quickly offered Mama Shen some water and took the phone. “Jingsong, no need to fret. Auntie is recovering nicely. Doctor says a few more days of observation, then home to rest.”

Shen Jingsong let out a relieved breath. “That’s wonderful. Thank you, Sister Betty.”

It had been just a few days ago—the night of the engagement banquet—when Betty called. Mama Shen had been rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery and needed a signature. Shen Jingsong had raced home for her ID, then driven through the night to Liu Lin.

The morning after the operation, she had an interview gig that forced her back to Shengjing. In a pinch, Betty had told her to go handle it while she stayed behind to look after Mama Shen.

Shen Jingsong chatted with her mom over video, urging her to follow the doctors’ orders—no skipping meds just because they tasted bad. She’d come visit in a few days.

Then she filled Betty in on the Eight Voices of Ganzhou audition. “They’re scouting locations in Liu Lin—real on-site tryout. Perfect chance to see Mom.”

Betty sounded floored. “How on earth did you meet Director Guo?! Jingsong, lady luck’s finally smiling on you. You’re about to blast off!”

Shen Jingsong lowered her gaze, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Ran into a super dedicated fan who hooked it up.”

She speared another slice of starfruit and ate it. “Director Guo only offered an audition—no guarantees. Who knows if it’ll change my luck. But one thing’s for sure: I’m grabbing this chance with both hands.”

Betty went on alert. “A fan? Guy or girl? How’d they get to you? Paparazzi catch anything?”

Shen Jingsong hesitated. “Mm… you’ve heard of her.”

Betty: “I’ve heard of her? Since when do I know big shots?”

Shen Jingsong: “Xia Zhuxi.”

One second of dead silence.

Betty: “Holy shit???!!!”

Betty: “The new ace of the Feilian Racing Team? Last year’s F1 rookie phenom?!”

Betty: “Xia God!!!”

Shen Jingsong nodded. “Xia God.”

She said, “I don’t really follow racing. I saw her at the engagement party and heard she was amazing, so I looked her up.”

Betty gazed at the ceiling. “You must be into international sports events, right? Bringing glory to the country and all. But stars of her caliber in competitive sports aren’t like entertainment celebrities…”

Betty turned serious. “Shen Jingsong, seize the opportunity.”

Shen Jingsong lay sideways on the sofa, her collar slipping off one shoulder to reveal fair, supple skin, her long hair loosely scattered.

She fluttered her thin eyelids open and shut. “Seize what?”

Betty looked exasperated. “Keep that premium big fan!”

Shen Jingsong’s brows lifted lightly, the chandelier’s shadows falling into her eyes. She seemed lost in thought.

The living room fell quiet for a long while.

A glass bowl held a few slices of starfruit.

Downstairs, a car passed by, its headlights sweeping across the window.

Shen Jingsong huddled on the sofa, wrapped in a silk shawl, her phone screen displaying a QQ profile. She had finally logged into her old account on her everyday phone.

She and the other person shared a new friend notification marked with a four-leaf clover.

Summer, whose profile picture was a snowflake against a black background.

Shen Jingsong swiped the screen to Weibo.

The app had retained her last browsing session, still parked on the personal homepage.

@Feilian Racing Team – Xia Zhuxi, profile picture a close-up of snowflakes drifting under streetlights.

Shen Jingsong remembered seeing Xia Zhuxi at the engagement party, wearing a snowflake-shaped earring in one ear.

She likes snow? With a surname like Xia—like a little sun—yet drawn to something as icy and cool as snowflakes.

Why snowflakes? Shen Jingsong tilted her head, her hair cascading down and tangling with the shawl’s tassels. She scrolled through Xia Zhuxi’s Weibo posts, flipping past one vibrant photo after another, sensing the passion and energy of that uninhibited life.

Shen Jingsong’s gaze lingered on one post.

@Feilian Racing Team – Xia Zhuxi

3-9

What the heck did I ramble on about?

Might as well have stars falling from the sky to knock me out.

The comments were full of fans showing concern—some asking what had happened, others consoling her not to feel down, and a few inquiring about her season schedule.

Shen Jingsong noted the timestamp: March 9th, just before ten at night.

The exact night it happened.

Her breathing slowed. She closed her eyes, and it was as if an evening breeze brushed her face, with orange candlelight flickering at her side. That person had been right there beside her, their intense gaze locking onto hers, their voice hoarse…

She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Shen Jingsong hugged herself tightly, her fingertips digging into the silk.

She understood. Sometimes people’s emotions spiraled out of control—especially after a few drinks.

Plenty of her fans had said similar things to her, but Xia Zhuxi stood out as the most special one.

Xia Zhuxi must have felt mortified once she sobered up. This post proved it.

It was good they hadn’t confronted it head-on. Things were fine just like this.

A sharp ringtone shattered the stillness. It was her old phone.

She glanced at the caller ID and frowned.

The balcony glass door reflected Shen Jingsong’s slender back.

Shen Jingsong answered. “Pandi?”

A woman’s shrill scream pierced her eardrum. “Sis! Save me! Dad and my brother are shoving me into the fire pit!”

Shen Jingsong turned down the volume. “What happened? Tell me slowly.”

Pandi cried, “Sis, if this keeps up, I’ll really die!”

“The richest bride price in the village came from some old widower who’s already buried two wives—and I’m still a pure girl! Dad even stole the money I saved from my job for the adult college entrance exam!”

“I borrowed cash from my coworkers to buy a train ticket and came straight here. I’m at Shengjing West Station now. Sis, you can’t just abandon me! Waaah—”

Shen Jingsong slipped on her coat and shoes. “Don’t move from the station. Go sit in a convenience store.”

She checked the time. “Half an hour. I’ll come pick you up.” She sighed. “You can stay with me for now. And whatever you do, don’t contact anyone back in the village.”

The call ended.

Her hands felt ice-cold as she pocketed the old phone and pulled out her work phone to call Xiao Chen.

The work phone screen was still on Xia Zhuxi’s Weibo homepage.

Her gaze lingered for half a second before she decisively switched away.

~~~

In the Feilian Racing Team’s building, a clean and brightly lit office buzzed with the clatter of keyboards and the constant ring of phones.

Jian Ge wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder as she coordinated with an overseas track, her hands flying across the keyboard.

A cup of milk tea appeared at the corner of her desk. Jian Ge looked up to see a dashing, radiant smile beaming at her.

Jian Ge hung up. “What can I do for you?”

Xia Zhuxi plopped down enthusiastically across from her, draping an arm over the back of her swivel chair. “Sign me up for something.”

Jian Ge tapped her calendar. “Your whole schedule’s locked in—all the entries have been submitted. Which one did I miss?”

Xia Zhuxi grinned broadly. “Southern Championship.”

Jian Ge froze. Everyone else in the office turned to look.

“No way, Captain Xia—are you doing this to drum up business for Boss’s side gig, or do you just want to crush some noobs?”

“Wasn’t it Kristin who nagged and wheedled you into going?”

“Oh! Kristin! Tsk tsk tsk. When it comes to spoiling a beauty, you’ve got to hand it to Xia God!”

A chorus of hoots rose up: “Ooooh~~~”

Xia Zhuxi made a silencing gesture, and the office fell quiet once more.

“Didn’t you say you had no time? You flip-flop faster than a pancake.” Jian Ge’s words were sharp as ever, but she still pulled up the official website for the Southern Championship.

It was the very last day for registration.

Xia Zhuxi said, “Book this flight number and this hotel for accommodations.”

Jian Ge shot her a glance and eyed the details suspiciously, letting out a low whistle. “This blows right past the budget.”

Xia Zhuxi replied, “I’ll cover the difference. Every penny for the players and support staff—I’ll foot the whole bill.”

Jian Ge slapped the table. “Done!”

The rest of the team heading to F4 erupted: “God!!!!!”

The late spring chill had passed, replaced by several days of brilliant sunshine.

With the sun shining bright, Xia Zhuxi’s mood was just as radiant.

Shengjing Airport buzzed with travelers as the announcement echoed: “Attention all passengers, the flight to Liu Lin is preparing for departure…”

“Ma’am, please have a seat here. The backrest reclines, and the slippers are under your seat. Would you like a blanket? Of course, right away.”

Xia Zhuxi stowed her luggage and reclined to rest her eyes.

Moments later, rustling sounds came from the seat across the aisle as the flight attendant greeted her warmly.

Outside the window, the world shifted to endless blue skies and drifting white clouds.

Xia Zhuxi sat up and quietly placed a Snow Plum on the tray table opposite.

The passenger across the aisle looked over.

Xia Zhuxi slipped off her sunglasses. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Shen Jingsong said, “I do love plums.” She smiled brilliantly. “What a happy coincidence.”