Lady

It wasn't the smell of gas, nor the burnt smell of instant noodles. It was the smell of secondhand smoke that I was forced to inhale as I passed by.

Disgusting, Bian Jiaping came here from the past.

Her combination lock was useless to Bian Jiaping. There were only a few possible combinations of numbers, and one of the commonly used ones was even related to him. He could get in after a few tries.

Ju Hui only rented this apartment after the conflict between the two erupted, and she never intended to change the password. After all, given her previous experience of being bedridden with a fever, she figured if Jiang Yiying got sick, he could come and take care of her.

Ju Hui closed the door, not too hard, not too soft, and a response immediately came from the deepest part of the room.

The sound was like heavy footsteps coming from the second bedroom.

But he only took one step and then stopped. The central air conditioning in the room was still running, and the light in the second bedroom door turned on and off repeatedly, as he arrogantly occupied her home.

What is Bian Jiaping waiting for? Is she waiting for Bian Jiaping to laugh off the question again?

It's been the same for the past few years; he sits firmly in the position of the eldest brother and never steps down, not even offering an apology.

The smoke drifted in again.

Ju Hui was panting, her breath hot with anger. He was waiting for her to yell so that their years-long cold war would finally come to an end.

"Bian Jiaping."

Ju Hui calmly called out to him.

"...Sister Ju Hui?"

Click, the lock came open, and Ju Hui pressed two fingers to her shocked, wide-open lips.

Jiang Yiying walked out wearing a low-cut tank top and shorts. She turned on the living room light, which illuminated the colorful tattoo on her collarbone, making it shimmer with a golden glow.

"It's fake, sis! It's a temporary tattoo that can be wiped off."

As Jiang Yiying spoke, she approached, rubbing her collarbone back and forth with her fingers to show her the layer of skin that had been rubbed off.

"Okay...you smoked, why does it smell so strong?" Ju Hui stared at her busy right hand, making sure there were no black marks between her slender fingers from years of smoking.

Ju Hui first met Jiang Yiying via WeChat video. The girl was cute, with very light amber pupils, and when she smiled, she would reveal half of her canine tooth, like a jade rabbit pounding medicine that couldn't hide anything.

Her first words were: "I know who you think I look like, but I don't think I look like anyone at all. I have a birthmark here."

Across thousands of miles and through day and night, Jiang Yiying showed her her wrist, on which was a patch of wrinkled skin that looked like a burn.

The phone call left Ju Hui dazed. Jiang Yiying was very enthusiastic, and the meeting felt like a reunion. Ju Hui had just reached Zeng Yue's age at the time, and Jiang Yiying, like Ju Hui, called her "sister" on the screen.

Now that she's grown up, Jiang Yiying looks nothing like Zeng Yue, from her facial features to her personality.

"Those are prop cigarettes, cheap ones, so they smell really strong. I'm filming a dance video, you have no idea how scary it was when you suddenly walked in..."

Ju Hui stepped aside and peeked into the half-open door. Three walls were surrounded by cosmetics, ultraviolet lights were flashing, and a 30-second variable-speed dance music was playing on repeat. It was a standard filming area.

Jiang Yiying lived in the master bedroom, and the second bedroom was her work area. She did not tell Ju Hui about the renovation of the second bedroom.

The most frightening thing is that Ju Hui doesn't criticize or speak. Jiang Yiying has never made a mistake in front of Ju Hui, and she doesn't want to make one in the future either.

"I'll tear it down tomorrow!"

She said hastily.

"It's okay, you can use it."

Ju Hui turned around, pointed to her phone, and asked in Jiangxi dialect, "Can I see your account?"

Ju Hui grew up at her age, skipped classes, did poorly in school, and lived at her seniors' houses every day, but she still survived. She didn't want to argue with Jiang Yiying, who had bravely started her own career as soon as she turned 18.

Jiang Yiying focuses on beauty and makeup, and her account is a single, niche platform. She has been running this account for almost a year since her senior year of high school, and has hundreds of thousands of followers on Xiaohongshu. Currently, she only operates this one account across the entire internet.

Ju Hui quickly browsed through her recent posts. The style was comfortable and natural, and the data for the text and images was better than the videos, especially the casual snapshots of her daily life. Jiang Yiying said this made her a little frustrated, and she wanted to try making videos on the Douyin market.

Jiang Yiying pulled her to sit down: "When I first created this account, it was very popular. When Brother Jiaping found out, he actually said that I wouldn't be able to get into university."

Ju Hui smiled and said, "Don't pay any attention to what he says."

Jiang Yiying chuckled and nuzzled her arm with her head: "Sister, you smell so good. You're as beautiful and generous as I imagined. I also want to be brave enough to drop out of school like you and support myself with this account!"

Ju Hui instantly lost her gentleness, realizing once again that it was a workday and Jiang Yiying had a full morning of classes the next day. Ju Hui smacked her on the head, warning her that it wasn't suitable for her to film a sexy dance, and pushed her to remove her makeup, take a shower, and go to sleep.

At 7 a.m. the next day, they fished her out and put her in the passenger seat of the car, ensuring she could sit in the large classroom for the ideological and political education class on time at 8 a.m.

Jiang Yiying reluctantly opened the door, and before getting out of the car, she turned back one last time and asked, "Sister Ju Hui, will I be able to see you when I get back tonight?"

Ju Hui raised an eyebrow: "Guess."

Jiang Yiying hummed and said, "I guess not. Before you leave, go see Brother Jiaping. He's been sick recently and is at the People's Hospital of the Medical University."

In the afternoon, while Ju Hui was browsing through Yun Aonan's garage, Bian Jiaping sent her a message asking if she was in Ruobei.

Yun Aonan glanced at the two's chat interface, where white and green blocks were arranged in a regular pattern, interspersed with gray text indicating the time intervals of several months or a year.

Yun Aonan, leaning against the car door, laughed so hard he couldn't straighten up, and asked, "Do you still remember what Brother Jiaping's voice sounds like?"

“There are videos of him being interviewed online, and I sometimes come across them.”

"Then Sheng Qijing is one of them too."

Ju Hui was clearly taken aback, but then acted as if it were nothing and answered truthfully, "I often hear his voice."

"You should start to get to know me now."

In that moment of stunned silence, Ju Hui recalled the words Sheng Qijing had whispered in her ear—a love confession she had overheard while she was in bed, her mind clouded.

But then I thought about it, and realized that his tone was usually gentler when he was familiar with the action, but the words that suddenly came out carried a command. This sentence might not be a statement, but a request.

Ju Hui nudged Yun Aonan with her fist and said, "Why don't you show your face? There are no interviews or magazines. Shouldn't you be doing more marketing if you're in the jewelry business?"

Yun Aonan waved her hand: "I'm just playing around. If I want to show my face under the holy light of this group of gods in my family, I can only wait for the 'Memoirs of a Successful Female Entrepreneur' to invite me for a book signing."

Yun Aonan stopped in front of a car, a Porsche 911. Ju Hui shook her head; she was used to driving new energy vehicles in Oslo.

Yun Aonan, feeling helpless and tired from walking, pulled Ju Hui to sit on the hood of the car and talked about Sheng Qijing: "Have you contacted him all these years? You'll know when you compare him to me. He's always in the media, but he's actually just living a so-so life."

“He now lives in Shanghai. He hasn’t come back for several years since you left Ruobei. Back then… you know, the younger students at Ruomei were very angry about Sheng Qijing’s actions. Everyone said they would no longer choose Mochun. But don’t worry, Mochun became so popular later. When it comes to money, you still have to look at the money.”

Ju Hui lowered her head, listening and responding with "hmm" sounds. She also manually replied with an "hmm" to Bian Jiaping, then exited WeChat and tucked her stray hairs behind her ear.

Ju Hui received her study abroad offer in early June, and was invited by Bian Jiaping to dinner with Sheng Zhen at the end of May.

On the night of the Feast at Hongmen, Sheng Qijing learned that she was going to study in Norway.

That morning, a phone call from Bian Jiaping's aunt foreshadowed that something was wrong that day.

Aunt Zhang sounded very anxious, asking if she still remembered the brand and model of Mr. Bian's treadmill.

Ju Hui was surprised that Aunt Zhang had thrown away his old household items, but she didn't ask any further questions. She found a link with a suitable price and sent it directly.

Aunt Zhang replied with a clasped hands emoji.

A few hours later, after attending two classes, Ju Hui received a message from Bian Jiaping asking her to have lunch with him.

After getting into the car at the school gate, the two still didn't exchange many words. Ju Hui knew that if she opened her mouth, they would talk about "staying away from the Sheng family" and "staying away from Sheng Qijing" again...

Ju Hui never expected that he would lead her all the way to the French restaurant inside the temple. At the entrance of the narrow alley, Bian Jiaping called out to her to put her tattered schoolbag back, in front of the parking attendant and tourists coming from Nanluoguxiang.

His dissatisfaction with Ju Hui had been brewing for months, and that misunderstanding was just the beginning.

The ancient temple is beautiful, quiet, and private.

Bian Jiaping remained silent, walking steadily through the red wall into the courtyard of the French restaurant. He entered the side hall and stood before Sheng Zhen, who was smiling but hiding a knife.

"Let's not talk about this now, Aonan."

Ju Hui interrupted her, smiling, and said, "I'm standing right here now. You're talking to me about the past, but you're not asking me why I came back or what I plan to do in the future?"

Yun Aonan stood up again with a "oh, oh," her right fist forming a microphone, her left hand supporting her right, and bowed to ask, "Miss Ju, which continent are you going to make money on this time?"

"north?"

Specifically…

"If it were Beitongzhou."

-

Jiang Yiying didn't expect that Ju Hui would stay at home for several days in a row. When she worked 8 a.m., she would deliver the goods at 7 a.m., and when she worked 10 a.m., she would sleep until 9 a.m. to deliver them.

Ju Hui was considerate to her in life and encouraged her to continue making pictures and texts at work. She gave her a Sony a7c2 and praised her for shooting beautiful empty shots, suggesting she try making vlogs to record her daily campus life.

Jiang Yiying took the advice, and the data for her first vlog was much better, instantly curing Ju Hui's anxiety about dropping out of school.

This made Jiang Yiying admire Ju Hui even more, but it also made her feel uneasy sleeping in the master bedroom.

That weekend, Jiang Yiying was writing a script in the second bedroom, listening intently to see when Ju Hui would get up so she could discuss changing bedrooms with her.

Da da da—

She got up and poured water.

Da da—

The sound had faded into the distance. She walked towards the door; was she going to get her takeout?

despair.

Jiang Yiying opened the door and, sure enough, saw Ju Hui putting on high heels. She was wearing makeup, her long hair was styled, and a pearly white handkerchief was tied to her handbag. This was definitely a date!

"I won't be back tonight."

Ju Hui glanced at her quickly and said anxiously that she had overslept.

Jiang Yiying clung to the doorframe, her heart pounding. It was still an overnight date: "Okay..."

As she watched Ju Hui disappear, she felt a sense of melancholy, as if even a goddess could enjoy eating leek dumplings.

Ju Hui caught the high-speed train on time and was expected to arrive in Shanghai before dinner.

On the way, the agent sent me a list of jobs that had been assigned since the domestic studio resumed operations.

A blank sheet of paper.

Kan Yu: [There was nothing in my email, except for a few pieces of trashy talk from 20 years ago. He said, "Get out of the country and pollute those blue-eyed people."]

Ju Hui felt ashamed; it had already been four years.

She encouraged them, saying, "At least they didn't immediately start yelling at us."

Ju Hui dared to return to China because she felt that this period of time was enough for netizens to change their minds.

In 2020, a year of prosperity, Ju Hui's personal studio caught up with the era's dividends, receiving not only policy subsidies but also government-funded urban sculpture projects.

The theme was about the working people in earthquake reconstruction. Ju Hui successfully completed the task, and the client was very satisfied.

Ju Hui thought she had opened up the domestic market, but she couldn't guard against Bian Jiaping's behind-the-scenes manipulation. Ju Hui was suddenly marketed as "a child who survived the earthquake".

Ju Hui felt a chill in her heart. She had never experienced an earthquake, but she had been constantly battered by the aftershocks of the controversy surrounding her reputation.

Art, its success and failure both stem from empty fame.

Ju Hui gazed out the window; the setting sun was closing in on the fields and countryside, and the flowing green was always more beautiful than the snow that could crush a wooden house.

She was certain she wanted to go back to China, even if it meant starting over.

Kan Yu: [Some people even sent emails immediately.]

Kan Yu: [Jing Kuan, a sculpture student from the 18th Ruobei Academy of Fine Arts Campus Singer Competition, has invited you to record a voiceover for the final round. Will you do it?]

“I won’t record it,” Sheng Qijing said.

"But this student previously submitted a portfolio to Mo Chen, and the quality was quite good. If a contract can be signed in the future, this past event can become a beautiful story."

The secretary swallowed hard.

He considered himself subordinate to the board of directors, and that his words represented the will of those above him. But as a veteran who had witnessed Sheng Qijing overthrow the board, he now felt suffocated to speak against President Sheng.

"……bite--"

After a few seconds of silence in the office, Sheng Qijing's phone rang.

Ju Hui: [1]

Sheng Qijing's brow twitched.

He looked up again, his expression unchanged, stood up from the desk, put on his suit jacket, took off his glasses, and his secretary stepped aside to see him out of the office building.

Outside the car window, the river breeze dispelled the lingering summer heat, and night quickly enveloped the Prussian blue sky. Sheng Qijing quietly closed his eyes and slept lightly in the back seat the whole way.

The driver quickly drove to the residence and said with a smile before leaving, "You had a smooth journey back today. It seems like something good is going to happen, Mr. Sheng."

Sheng Qijing nodded and went upstairs.

The combination lock was easy to remember; it was the date Ju Hui flew to Norway, August 12, 2016.

Open the door—

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...

Ju Hui's mechanical, emotionless cell phone recording came from the living room.

Sheng Qijing frowned, took off his suit jacket, and walked through the entrance hall.

The room was dimly lit, and the Shanghai night view was reflected in Sheng Qijing's eyes through the floor. On the long table, Ju Hui's cell phone and a beautifully made cake lay together in the center of a messy cardboard box.

The cake has two numbers on it: 3 and 1.