Chapter 23

From two to six in the morning—the most subtle time of night. Whenever Hu Xiu couldn’t sleep, she’d fall into self-blame and panic, asking herself what went wrong.

Shameful things would resurface, depression would swallow up belief like darkness, and uncertain love would make her overthink.

Unable to sleep, Hu Xiu felt like her chest had been stolen, her breathing out of rhythm, and the empty feeling made it hard for her to fall asleep.

She sat up, took out the Super Junior concert DVD she always carried with her, then turned on her computer to watch Lee Donghae singing a ballad. Her fingers moved on the desk in time with the piano’s melody—this was her usual way of soothing her anxious emotions.

But looking at herself, soul detached, sitting in front of the desk, hair disheveled and lost, fingers mechanically dissecting the song, her eyes vacant—she was in the classic state of heartbreak. It was the first time she’d felt this down since meeting Qin Shaoyi.

It was time to stop calling him Qin Shaoyi. He was Diao Zhi Yu, a twenty-two-year-old boy who graduated from Shanghai Theatre Academy, earning a decent income compared to his peers, handsome and full of ambition.

In the immersive theater, his deep and aloof persona easily drew others to him, keeping a polite distance while unknowingly showing affection. Looking back, it could all be summed up as acting skills and emotional intelligence.

To monopolize the affection of such a boy, one would need to employ many tricks. At least a single sincere heart wouldn’t be enough to succeed, and Hu Xiu wasn’t the only one who came to him with love.

Since the first time she met Qin Shaoyi, Hu Xiu had misjudged her position. He was the actor, and she was the player. In the theater, the relationship between actors and the audience was one of breaking the fourth wall, and there was not just her in the audience.

The theater was really good at playing with the psychology of the public, much like how self-help books and emotional advice become bestsellers in bookstores. Ordinary people needed to use schemes to win others’ hearts.

Ordinary—what a precise word to describe someone who can’t win over a handsome boy. It revealed the truth.

Hu Xiu shook her head hard.

Qin Shaoyi holding an umbrella over her on a rainy night was because he couldn’t bear to see a girl get wet.

Carrying her out of the haunted house was an instinctive act of care.

Sending her home was because it was too late and unsafe.

If it were really all just acting, a person so young would have to be incredibly calculating, with a dark mind and a strong desire to build his own persona.

Not everyone is born to be a hypocritical actor, and Hu Xiu knew that Qin Shaoyi wasn’t like that.

His tenderness and concern were likely innate, like someone instinctively straightening a chair when it falls—it was just his nature.

And she, at twenty-seven, had already experienced a terrible relationship. Including her crushes during her teenage years, she wasn’t lacking in experience with emotions.

Even if she now desired Qin Shaoyi’s care and wanted to be closer to him, she had to act as if she didn’t know and continue playing along with him in Snowpiercer. She had to be patient, treat Ning Zechen’s words as mere wind in her ears, and even if she couldn’t do it, she had to pretend.

Outside the window, the sky slowly lightened, then turned blue. In the morning sunlight, there was something fragile and ambiguous, just like Hu Xiu lying on the couch on the balcony, gazing at the sky.

Many people missed the early morning hours, the faint and elusive thoughts that were too thin to see through.

But as the night melted away, everything became clear.

Many people had to experience heartbreak, forced to stay awake until dawn, or perhaps, most people lacked logic or were too tired to discern it, still unable to understand.

She wasn’t tired, not sleepy, but her heartbeat was rapid, and her breath was shallow. As she went downstairs to go to work, she gradually realized the feeling of her chest being wide open, with no diaphragm between her heart and lungs—she was afraid.

Her chances of dating Qin Shaoyi were one in ten thousand, and she was so afraid of losing him.

Sitting at her computer for an hour, Hu Xiu felt like the words on the screen were flying out of order. Uh-oh, the consequences of staying up late were starting to show.

The Monday meeting would likely last until noon, and she needed to sneak out to grab a cup of coffee, with two shots of espresso added.

She was just waiting for the right opportunity to slip out when her colleague suddenly called her: “Xiao Hu, the leaders from Huangpu District are here, we’re having a meeting soon. Are the materials printed?”

“Leaders? I didn’t hear about this last week.”

“They came suddenly to inspect the work. It’s the hospital. Just get everything ready and sit in the back row; we don’t have much to do with it.”

Hu Xiu carefully double-checked the numbers in the system. There were five minutes left. She suddenly felt unwell, pinched the date on her calendar—great, it’s that time of the month.

After a quick trip to the restroom, she hurried to the next room to get a cup of hot water. When she returned, she saw a man in a white coat standing in front of her computer. Their eyes met for a second before he walked away.

She had never seen a doctor in her office before. His sudden appearance made her extremely nervous.

The table on the screen was still waiting for her to print. After finishing her coffee, she took another look. The report had no spelling mistakes, the duty roster from the head nurse and the doctor’s work hours were accurate, and she quickly printed everything to finish her task.

Standing in the back row, Hu Xiu saw the hospital’s Party Secretary from a distance. The middle-aged man who appeared at 9:15 was neither oily nor pompous. He smiled and nodded when he saw her.

The conversation focused on the upcoming shortage of beds and medications as the year drew to a close, and he praised young people, making her feel that many of the stereotypes in Shanghai were changing.

After chatting for about ten minutes, Hu Xiu was slowly lulled by the slow pace and monotone of the conversation. She leaned against the doorframe and gently bumped the back of her head against the wall to stay awake. Her stomach ached—what a bad Monday.

At this point, she actually wished the leaders would occasionally yell like the actors in Snowpiercer to wake her up; otherwise, it wouldn’t be long before she started nodding off.

Damn, age really isn’t kind. Back in the day, she could stay up all night studying for exams and still go out for an afternoon oral BEC test without feeling sleepy at all.

Suddenly, the door beside her opened. It was the doctor from earlier. At the same time, a wave of coffee aroma blew in with the wind. Hu Xiu greedily sniffed the air—delicious, it was the smell of caramel macchiato.

The vice-director by the window quickly noticed the doctor and smiled, introducing him to the Party Secretary: “This is our talented Dr. Pei Zhen, 31 years old, with his own patents and highly regarded papers. He is soon to become an associate professor.”

Before Hu Xiu could react, the cup of caramel macchiato was already in her hands.

The conversation in the meeting room had shifted to discussing the cross-regional outpatient billing platform—an important project in Shanghai for 2018, with universal coverage in the Yangtze River Delta region, allowing billing to no longer be restricted by location.

Only then did Hu Xiu realize why they had come for an inspection—they had been doing a lot of data entry related to this recently.

She quietly sniffed the coffee again, reminding herself not to fall asleep. If she did, she would drop the cup, and that sweet caramel macchiato would spill everywhere.

Pei Zhen, after talking in the meeting room for about 15 minutes, politely excused himself: “I’ll leave first, I have something to do. I’ll borrow someone, I need some materials printed.”

With that, he gently tugged at Hu Xiu’s sleeve and led her out of the meeting room.

“Just take the caramel macchiato, why do I need to be the coffee holder?” she thought to herself.

That action really saved her from almost falling asleep. She was mere seconds away from dozing off.

Wanting to return the coffee, Hu Xiu lightly tapped the doctor’s sleeve. He turned around and yawned: “It’s for you. I’ll be heading home after my night shift.”

“Huh?”

“You’re probably already exhausted, right? I just saved you from falling asleep. But to avoid people thinking you’re slacking, go wait in my break room for a bit. The duty roster you printed earlier, give me another copy, I need it for the head nurse.”

“Okay. Thanks for the coffee, but... I’m not supposed to drink coffee these days.”

As she said that, Hu Xiu’s stomach hurt again. She twisted her body in a pained arc: “I might need to take the afternoon off.”

“Is it that serious?”

“Sometimes, lately I’ve been pretty tired...” It was all for Li Ai, after all. She had attended three medical conferences over the weekend.

“Then what you need to focus on is not avoiding coffee, but taking medicine—come with me.”

Pei Zhen led the way, and Hu Xiu followed behind, her back slightly hunched in pain. The doctor’s break room was similar to hers, except a little bigger with a sofa.

Pei Zhen’s desk was clean. There were no family photos, and thick books were neatly arranged on three shelves along the wall. File folders stood in place, and a stethoscope was on the desk. His coat rack held a green checkered jacket and two yellowing white coats.

Pei Zhen took some medicine out of his drawer and handed it to her, then bent down to the water dispenser: “Take pain relievers scientifically. If this happens again, take ibuprofen.”

Hu Xiu held the paper cup, but her coffee was still untouched. Pei Zhen glanced at her: “Don’t stay up late. I noticed the big typo in the title of the data earlier, I fixed it for you.”

“I’ll leave this whole box for you. I’m off now.”

“Thank you...”

“You’re welcome...” Pei Zhen looked down at his name tag with a serious expression: “Hu Xiu? Your real name?”

“Yeah...”

“Interesting. Well, see you after work.”

Such a gentleman. The doctor had helped Hu Xiu a lot that morning. However, Hu Xiu was not irrational enough to mistake this for affection. After what happened with Qin Xiaoyi, she no longer saw such helpful actions as flirtation, especially in the office where colleagues often helped each other out. It only showed that the doctor had a kind heart and knew how to handle workplace relationships—nothing more.

After taking the medicine, Hu Xiu still felt a heavy ache in her stomach, but it wasn’t as bad as before. She printed out the duty roster, clipped it together, and placed it on Pei Zhen’s desk. Beneath the glass top was a postcard of the Northern Lights.

After finishing her work, Hu Xiu took the rest of the day off to rest at home. Lying in bed, she saw the DVD on her desk and couldn’t fall asleep again.

They say fatigue will crush impulse, but Hu Xiu wasn’t like that. Looking at the schedules on her phone, she made up her mind—

Using the free voucher from the haunted house, Hu Xiu went to the 3:30 PM session of Snowpiercer.

Just after changing into her clothes and sitting on the couch, she heard four women chatting in the next break room.

Their voices were mature, each sentence overly deliberate, with a slight touch of Shanghai’s clipped way of speaking.

The most notable thing was that the actress who had previously played Lin Qiumei enthusiastically helped buy coffee for the others, and they were joking around with her.

One of the women, with short blue hair, stood up, arrogantly yet modestly brushing her hair back. “Fifty swipes for a memento, I want to see who I’ll reward today.”

As she stepped out, she made eye contact with Hu Xiu. With a side-swept fringe and a stiff, almost surgically enhanced face, she wore a superior, snarky expression, followed by the other three women, each with an elegant, aristocratic stride. The famous “rich lady” clique had crossed my path.

But the surprises didn’t stop there. The iron gate of Rongcheng opened, and out came a young man dressed in a white suit—Qin Xiaoyi, youthful, immature, with the voice of a seventeen-year-old—he was a new actor.

That’s when she remembered she’d forgotten to ask about the actor’s schedule. Hu Xiu might have come to Snowpiercer and still missed seeing Qin Xiaoyi.

The four ladies stood in front of the players, blocking the way. Their eyes were fixed on Qin Xiaoyi, making the shy young man look away, only asking the players behind him, “Do you all have your invitations? Please follow me.”

Qin Xiaoyi had a completely different vibe. His features were more refined and aristocratic, with a slight hump in his nose, a straight brow ridge, and a full forehead and cheeks—he looked like an aristocratic young man just back from studying abroad during the Republican era, slightly overwhelmed by the tumult of the times. The Qin Xiaoyi Hu Xiu liked, however, had a more angular, cold, sly, and even a bit neurotic vulnerability in his features, his whole demeanor effortlessly emanating superiority.

Looking at this aristocratic young man, Hu Xiu couldn’t help but feel unlucky and also strangely familiar with this scene. She had bought tickets multiple times to catch a glimpse of Qin Xiaoyi, but never bothered to ask about his schedule.

Hu Xiu had to admit that a simple feeling of loss back then was more blissful than now when I knew so much more.

Hu Xiu entered the first scene at Rongcheng. Players were lined up in two rows to watch Qin Xiaoyi and Feng Youjin perform their scene.

Ning Zechen walked in with his shirt collar open, winking at me, and mischievously said, “Minister Qin and Officer Feng, please don’t argue. Our distinguished guests are still waiting. Especially Minister Qin, so dashing and wealthy in his new position. Everyone is eager to meet you in room 301, aren’t they, Miss Feng?”

Hu Xiu glanced at her name tag and saw Ning Zechen, who had been chatting with her the night before about gossip, now pretending not to know her. He teased her with his character’s rogue demeanor: “I see Miss Feng is so beautiful. She must have just returned from studying abroad. What a coincidence, Minister Qin has also just returned. Should we have a good chat?”

This whole situation was worse than staying home in bed. The rich lady clique plus the new actor Qin Xiaoyi—everything was unsatisfactory. Five hundred yuan wasted.

Before Hu Xiu could respond, a familiar voice called out from the Rongcheng main road: “Looking for inside news, trading large items, in times of chaos, flourishing like fire cooking oil, fading like wind over grass, seeking a strategist, I am Li Rong, capable of anything.”

A tall, thin figure flashed at the door and glanced inside. Seeing me, he smiled carelessly.

Hu Xiu’s heart almost jumped out. How had Qin Xiaoyi turned into Li Ma Zi in this scene?