Chapter 31

A silence filled the room. Diao Zhiyu, who thought he had won, sensed something strange from Hu Xiu in the darkness. He moved closer and saw that her eyes were red: “I was really worried, but I didn’t dare ask if you wanted me to go to the hospital. I only dared to sleep once you were asleep…”

She really couldn’t make that kind of joke. In her ear, Hu Xiu sniffled softly, and Diao Zhiyu’s hand, still damp, moved around her shoulder: “I’ll tell you the truth, I really did have stomach pain. But... I just didn’t know how to handle that awkward situation, so I just wanted to tease you.

I ate a bowl of food in five minutes on the Snowpiercer, and my stomach really got upset.

But after taking medicine and lying down, I knew I’d feel better after a nap. Asking you to stay with me was just me being stubborn.

But just now, I wanted to joke with you. Please don’t cry, I really don’t know what to do when you cry. Please don’t cry…”

At the sound of a light giggle, Diao Zhiyu realized Hu Xiu... was acting too. With his hands on his hips, looking at Hu Xiu wiping away her fake tears, he sighed in relief: “Still the acting prodigy I’ve trained, I don’t know whether to praise you or scold you.”

The Hu Xiu who went to the Snowpiercer was still the kindhearted one who got tricked easily, slipping and bumping into phone booths. Now, she could cry on cue in front of a professional actor.

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds, both feeling a little flustered. Hu Xiu said, “I should go now, I have to work.”

“It’s only 5:30.”

“Oh... well then…”

“I won’t bother you, I need to keep sleeping. I spent a whole night on the lazy sofa, my back is about to break. If you don’t take the spot soon, I’ll have to go to the camp bed.”

She slept on the sofa last night... so... did he know about the kiss she stole yesterday?

Hu Xiu’s face heated up. Diao Zhiyu peeked his head out from the door: “Do you want to come, or not? I’m really too tired.”

“Yesterday... I... you...”

“What?”

“Did you notice anything strange when you were sleeping yesterday? Like, was there a mosquito or something?”

“No, I slept deeply—usually I’m exhausted from work. It’s almost Christmas season, and I’ve been performing from 9:30 PM to 2 AM every day, I just fall straight into bed as soon as I get the chance. Also—the stomach medicine helps with sleep.”

Forget it. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t say it. After all, Diao Zhiyu had no intention of breaking the awkward silence.

Hu Xiu sat on the lazy sofa, and Diao Zhiyu wrapped the blanket tightly around her, speaking softly, “It’s getting colder.”

Hu Xiu stood up and dragged the lazy sofa close to the camp bed, sharing the blanket with Diao Zhiyu. She privately thought to herself, Diao Zhiyu really has the most beautiful voice in the world. When Feng Youjin provoked her during the Snowpiercer scene and searched her, it was Qin Shaoyi’s voice saying, “Is this the first time you’ve met me, Qin Shaoyi?” that made her remember him, even before she could recall his face.

She wasn’t wrong last night; this crush without a future had no chance of a kiss.

She couldn’t remember much from the quick kiss, except that his lips were soft, and his breath was steady, but everything else faded away.

Qin Shaoyi lay with his hand on the back of his head, eyes closed. When he heard Hu Xiu dragging her shoes, he opened his eyes and saw her rubbing her ankle. He pulled the blanket around her again: “Don’t give it to me, I’m not that cold. It was my fault that I kept you here last night. You should have been in your warm bed, not freezing like this. It’s my fault.”

“It’s fine, Shanghai’s always cold. I’ve been woken up by the cold at this time before—my rented room has an old air conditioner.”

“When I was in the dorm, it was the same. 17th floor, and when winter came, the wind howled as if it was trying to blow you out of your blankets.

But compared to the north, it’s warmer here. Most of my roommates moved out to live with their girlfriends, and I was the only one left in the dorm. After rehearsals, I would return, and the only way to warm my bed was by using my own body heat. It wasn’t bad though.”

From what it sounded like, Diao Zhiyu didn’t have a girlfriend in college. Hu Xiu thought about this and asked him something else: “Why did you want to become an actor?”

“Because I’m handsome. Sounds like bragging, but since people say I’m good-looking, there are many who should be actors, I’ve just gotten used to it.”

Dreams at a young age are always something far-fetched—like being a knight-errant, a tomb raider, or an imperial envoy. I even wanted to be the carved eagle from The Return of the Condor Heroes...

These were all things that didn’t exist in real life, yet they allowed for endless imagination, so perhaps in a way, it was as if acting chose me—the universe guides people to the direction meant for them.

When I was preparing for my art exams, I did well in my academic subjects, scoring 500 points. But gradually, no one cared about my grades anymore. Being second in the acting department was enough to make everyone overlook anything beyond my appearance.

But that second place made me realize that appearance isn’t so important—what truly matters is the temperament, which adds an extra flair. Second place was the best I could do back then.

“Why did the first-place winner take first place? I think I know. I once participated in a piano competition in Jiangsu Province during my senior year of high school.

The first-place winner received a 20-point bonus for the college entrance exam, but I ended up in second place.

That defeat left me speechless for a week, and my dad moved out of the house, probably disappointed in me. Later, I learned that his leaving wasn’t just because I was useless.”

“Exactly. People will take things that belong to us. When I was in my second year of university, I was cast as the lead in a web drama. After two weeks of shooting, they replaced me. I was stunned, looking for flaws in myself.

It turned out—everyone got replaced, including the director and the screenwriter. Maybe I don’t have the luck to be a star. It’s fine; being a small actor isn’t bad. And scripted murder is the same. I’ve never thought of it as inferior to being on set.

Because after interacting, the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction players get is so close to the heart. Some will repeatedly experience it for the different storylines; others will be captivated by the actors’ charm. A good scripted murder is like a dream-making machine.”

“So, am I your captivated player?”

“Or am I the actor I trained?” Diao Zhiyu continued on the topic: “The only thing I find unsatisfactory in scripted murder is that players often treat us like NPCs, just there to trigger the plot. I hope they recognize that in interactive theater, we are actors.”

Hu Xiu leaned against the edge of the cot, wrapped in a blanket, her shoulder near Diao Zhiyu’s arm. His body heat radiated to her. She remembered chasing after him when he got off work and seeing his gaze stop on Lin Qiuyi. Unable to resist, she asked: “So, after acting so much, do you bring the people you like in the play into real life?”

The person next to her went silent, then cleared his throat. It felt as though something was stuck in his chest, but then it slowly sank.

Hu Xiu understood. For someone she liked so much but could never fully express herself to, someone with whom she could speak freely in the morning but not share a bed or a couch, maintaining a friendly distance—there was only one real reason: she was not the first person in his heart.

The body wrapped in the blanket gradually grew colder, and Hu Xiu watched Diao Zhiyu’s side profile, her heart softening. She didn’t want to push the smart boy too hard. Now that the window had been broken, there was nothing left… She deceived herself, pretending his feelings were just a matter of respect and courtesy.

The alarm clock rang—it was time for Hu Xiu to get up for work. Leaving the café, she saw the moon still lingering, defeated yet glowing white, often forgotten by others for its scars, much like an injured face.

After leaving the subway station, Hu Xiu paused for a few seconds at the Shengjian stall but ended up buying only a sandwich for herself and heading to the office.

Fifteen minutes later, her senior arrived. The group conversed in Shanghainese, and Hu Xiu caught a few keywords. She understood that Pei Zhen was very angry, something she had grown used to, but still, her curiosity was piqued.

Gossip never needed to be asked when it came to her senior. Sure enough, her senior messaged Hu Xiu on WeChat saying she went out to buy breakfast.

“Dr. Pei had a burn patient who secretly left the hospital last week after being discharged.

He had surgery late at night, and was supposed to write an application for treatment fees overnight, but they gave up.”

“Is this treatment very expensive?”

“Full skin grafts are very expensive. And you need to wait for the wounds to heal to a certain level before doing the surgery, using pig skin in patches. It’s about a million yuan.

They are from a small town, so they don’t have much money, and even with crowdfunding, they only raised tens of thousands. They have a newborn child, so they decided to go home in the end.”

“Will this get worse?”

“They’re waiting to die. Our hospital does such thorough wound care, but the risk of infection from the dead cells is so high. In a small town hospital, they won’t take care of it this well. They might not even go to the hospital because of the cost.

Eventually, they’ll just wait to die. Little Pei always gets angry about this kind of thing because he can’t do anything.”

Her senior paid, and the sound of sipping coffee was calm: “As a doctor, you need to distinguish between what you can and cannot do, and not let things beyond your control affect you too much.

He could have gone to the U.S. in December, but he insisted on staying another month to discharge all his patients. He gave up a great opportunity at Boston University for someone else. He just can’t get his priorities straight.”

Hu Xiu kept the conversation in mind, stopping by the Shengjian shop to buy more for Pei Zhen and placed them on his desk.

The sky had turned gloomy, and through Pei Zhen’s office window, Hu Xiu saw a crow perched on a tree.

Pei Zhen was probably in a morning meeting, which explained why he came back early from the café yesterday. It was because there was something urgent in the burn unit.

By noon, the vice president suddenly came into the office and mentioned a few upcoming exchange meetings in Jiangsu. One of them was co-hosted by Jiaotong University and the hospital, with Pei Zhen’s name among the speakers. Before this, he needed to give a pre-lecture at Jiaotong Medical School.

Pei Zhen appeared at the door in less than five minutes, looking a bit down. Upon seeing the president, he greeted him politely: “I still have a consultation to attend upstairs, and I need to go apply for my visa this afternoon. I probably won’t have time to go to Jiaotong University this week.”

“It’s best if you can make time to go. The professors at the School of Life Sciences really like you, and Professor Qi, the academician, has specifically asked you to visit. These connections will be very useful for your future papers.”

“Time is really running out, I’ll think of another way.”

After the dean left, Pei Zhen looked at the time, feeling a bit anxious as he scratched his head. Hu Xiu leaned in, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“I need to rush back home to get something, but I might not make it in time. I didn’t go home yesterday, and going back and forth to get the materials will take at least two hours. Unless I head to Jiaotong University to meet the professor first.”

Pudong and Minhang are indeed in opposite directions. Since Hu Xiu was free at lunch, she blurted out, “If you don’t mind, I can go get it. Just give me the keys.”

Pei Zhen was silent, still staring at his phone, but his hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “Then I won’t be polite. I’ll send you the location on my phone. We’ll go our separate ways and meet at the embassy.”

Hu Xiu estimated the time and immediately set off for the subway. As she entered, rain started to pour.

It wasn’t far from Lujiazui Road to Century Park, but as she exited the station, the rain intensified. The north wind blew, and the ground was littered with fallen leaves. She had only an hour and a half left to get to the embassy, and she didn’t have time to buy an umbrella.

She thought to herself that she must have a special connection with the rain, as being drenched had almost become a keyword for her at the age of twenty-seven.

Pei Zhen lived on the 12th floor. After taking the elevator, she turned to the deepest corner, where there was a brown storage rack, likely for deliveries.

When she entered, despite her preparation, she was still shocked by the scene inside the room—everything from the wallpaper to the furniture was beige. Combined with the clean and tidy atmosphere, it was surprisingly warm. It didn’t look like the home of a man who came home late every day; everything was meticulously arranged. If you didn’t know better, you might think it was tidied up by a gentle housewife.

Following the information Pei Zhen had given her, she made her way to the bedroom, where she found the document folder with the materials on the bed. His private life was managed so carefully—he was truly a man of precision.

There were no photos or group pictures in the room, only medical books and films on the bookshelf. He seemed to have the habit of buying pirated DVDs from offline stores.

Not wanting to linger, Hu Xiu packed the folder into a thick kraft paper bag, wrapped it in her clothes, and headed back the same way. The rain was so heavy that she could barely see. She hated winter—the thick, clumsy clothes, the dirty water from the rain, and the trees accumulating water on the streets. By the time she waited for the traffic light, her black down jacket was completely soaked with muddy rainwater.

When she arrived at the embassy, Pei Zhen waved at her from the car, signaling for her to get in.

Hu Xiu tapped on the car window and handed the kraft paper bag inside. “I’m soaked, don’t get your car dirty. The subway station isn’t far, I’ll head back to work.”

“Don’t rush, wait for me. I have an appointment, I’ll be out soon, and we can drive back to the hospital together.”

“Really, it’s fine…”

Pei Zhen looked at Hu Xiu, her hair drenched, her hands frozen white from the rain, and her cheeks flushed from running. His expression was somewhat complicated.

Hu Xiu felt a bit awkward. “It’s not that I don’t want to ride with you, but my sister arranged some work for me, I still haven’t finished it. See you at the hospital?”

Suddenly, the car window rolled down, and Pei Zhen unbuckled his seatbelt. With a quick flick, the seatbelt snapped back, and he reached out to hold Hu Xiu’s chin. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the lips.

The whole motion was so swift that Hu Xiu didn’t even react, but the sensation of his lips lingered. It was a bit rough, probably because he had been running in the cold wind for too long and needed warmth.

Pei Zhen softly said, “If you focus too much on my matters, it will make me overthink.”