Chapter 77

I’ve thrown away all the good cards I had, but in the end, I’ve still left behind a legend

Hu Xiu, who had been drinking until three or four in the morning, was more drunk than she had imagined. She saw Pei Zhen with four heads resting on his shoulders, his mouth moving as if he was saying something, but her ears couldn’t hear anything.

In her dreams, it seemed like she was back on the Snowpiercer. She pushed open the door and saw someone else playing Qin Xiao Yi. She kept changing roles, trying to collect a debt, 15,000 yuan along with a letter home, but she never managed to get it back.

The last time she opened the door, it was Diao Zhiyu. He wore a white shirt, a suit vest, and was adjusting his cufflinks, a black leather watch on his wrist. He looked up at her, his eyes one narrow and one wide, with a melancholic coldness in his deep brown eyes.

He glanced at his name tag and asked, “What are you doing in my room?” Hu Xiu stammered, her words stuck in her throat, unable to say anything.

But Diao Zhiyu, like every time on the Snowpiercer, understood her meaning. His voice was as pleasant as ever: “Out of old feelings for you, I’ll give you this money. But this is the last time I’m making an exception for you. Once I leave Rongcheng, there will be no place for you in my heart.”

Hu Xiu, who had been drinking until three or four in the morning, was drunker than expected. She saw Pei Zhen with four heads leaning on his shoulders, his mouth moving as though he was saying something, but she couldn’t hear anything.

In her dreams, it felt like she was back on the Snowpiercer. She pushed open the door and saw someone else playing Qin Xiao Yi. She kept switching between various roles, trying to collect the debt of 15,000 yuan along with a letter home, but she never managed to get it back.

The last time she opened the door, it was Diao Zhiyu. He wore a white shirt, a suit vest, and was adjusting his cufflinks. A black leather watch adorned his wrist. He looked up at her, his eyes one narrow and one wide, with a melancholic coldness in his deep brown eyes.

He glanced at his name tag and asked, “What are you doing in my room?” Hu Xiu stammered, her words caught in her throat, unable to say anything.

But Diao Zhiyu, like every time on the Snowpiercer, understood her meaning. His voice was as pleasant as ever: “Out of old feelings for you, I’ll give you this money. But this is the last time I’m making an exception for you. Once I leave Rongcheng, there will be no place for you in my heart.”

Pei Zhen looked at Hu Xiu, whose body was limp like a deflated ball, resting against his shoulder. He looked at her in confusion: “You were having such a good conversation about medicine, why did you suddenly get drunk?”

“Heartbreak…”

“Good grief…” He stared at her. “Even after a breakup, you’re still so clear-headed. You got me confused. Let me ask you, the girl you were so crazy about six months ago, was it her?”

“Yes…”

“I used to think you’d love Chen Naiwen for your whole life. Men’s words are all lies.”

Pei Zhen smiled. He knew that few people still knew about his passionate love story. He thought about the four in the lab: Jin Junming, Ding Junrong, and Shen Zhiming, along with himself. Each one had such a dramatic romantic history that could fill an entire romance novel. The intensity of it all was like a mutual comparison.

These four were now leaders in various medical fields, all of them nearly indifferent to love.

Pei Zhen, holding Hu Xiu’s warm body reeking of alcohol, felt a slight tremor in his heart and said to Shen Zhiming, “If young trainees ask me if studying medicine has a future, I would have to answer honestly—chances are you’ll end up single, so be cautious.”

Shen Zhiming waited for a taxi and said, “Stop being pretentious. You’re clearly enjoying this. Are you sending her home?”

“To the hospital. I’ll sleep in Dr. Jin’s office for a while. I’ve got a patient whose arm was caught in a meat grinder. I have a morning consultation with orthopedics.”

“If she needs mental counseling, contact me.” Shen Zhiming had smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in one night. He tossed the empty pack into the trash can. “After seeing her for the night, I get why you like her. This kind of girl, shining brightly and radiating warmth towards you, really lights up a man’s dark life, always hitting the mark.

Especially since we’ve been dealing with life, aging, illness, and death for so long. The way she talks to you with such trust makes you want to get closer.”

“She has many more qualities worth liking. But that’s enough for now. I need to hook her up to some glucose. She’s starting to shake a bit.”

Pei Zhen climbed into the car and shut the door. “Get your resume ready. If she does resign, you’ll need to make sure you beat out the competition to not disappoint her.”

In Dr. Jin’s office, Pei Zhen turned on the light and sat on the floor, watching Hu Xiu’s face.

When they first met, she had just started working, leaning against the wall. Her eyes were sharp, her pupils dark and round, and she looked timid. Her ears were slightly pointed, her hair black and smooth, full of mischievous charm.

At the time, he had just applied for an exchange program to the United States. He finished his paper before anyone else, beating others for the opportunity, and the associate professor title was within his reach.

The hospital had many eyes on him—colleagues watching his performance, people of the opposite sex watching his single status—

A man in high demand, women’s eager gazes left him unsure whether he was prey or the predator.

He didn’t care about those looks, finding writing papers more thrilling.

It wasn’t until he put on his headphones and heard authentic English simultaneous interpretation that he was intrigued by the pure accent and calm tone. It turned out to be Hu Xiu, a girl with long black straight hair, who stepped out of the interpretation booth, exhaled, and wiped away the sweat.

Years later, he again felt a tightness in his chest—he had thought he’d lost the ability to feel the thrill of love.

The story that followed was even more entangling—she braved the rain to get him materials, showed up every morning with Shengjian at the office, exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve, the marriage certificate from the Snowpiercer… every experience felt new.

If it weren’t for Diao Zhiyu, if things hadn’t gone in order, or if he hadn’t selfishly pushed other colleagues aside for the chance to go abroad for Naiwen… maybe everything would’ve been different.

To some extent, he had altered the course of fate.

The moist eyes in front of him slowly opened, the drunkenness faded halfway, but soon, the lively light was gone.

Pei Zhen wasn’t without malicious intent. He considered confessing while she was still drunk, even embracing her and kissing her. This impulsive thought was hard to suppress.

But he just watched her heartbroken eyes, unmoving, as if searching for his name on an exam results list, from the first row to the last, and finding nothing.

He didn’t even raise his hand—not loving someone, it felt meaningless.

“I think I drank too much.”

“Normal, drinking with a good friend. Are you okay?”

“Feel nauseous...”

Pei Zhen smiled. “If you’re not feeling well, I’ll take you to the main building for some glucose.”

“No need, I just need to sleep for a bit.”

Pei Zhen closed his eyes and opened them again. “What’s your plan next?”

“To be a freelance translator for the hospital. I plan to take the EU translation exam next year. Only Beijing and Shanghai offer it. I’m working on improving myself… is it too late?”

By now, the alcohol had mostly worn off.

“Of course it’s not too late. The announcement for my associate professor evaluation is coming soon, and the new research project is a national-level one.

But I’ve never felt like I’m outstanding—the people in the hospital, everyone is working hard.”

Pei Zhen, whose heart almost stopped, gently held her hand. It was probably his pride at play.

Perhaps he had foreseen the end of embracing her, with so many unspoken words left inside. He only said, “If you need a recommendation for your application, feel free to ask. The youngest associate professor in the hospital can vouch for you.”

“Thank you…”

“Don’t be polite with me.”

Pei Zhen, who hadn’t slept all night, took his notebook to the consultation. His phone buzzed incessantly on his chest. He didn’t need to think to know—it was about Hu Xiu bringing up her resignation, and the news had spread through the hospital group.

After the meeting, he opened his notebook and wrote the final line.

April 5th, Hu Xiu will leave the hospital a month later. I wish… her future is bright.

This was probably the end of a chapter in his life at thirty-two.

Hu Xiu proposed her resignation, and Director Cai and the vice president tried to persuade her for half an hour, but didn’t press further.

Hu Xiu’s suggestion wasn’t bad; taking on the role of a part-time interpreter for the hospital wasn’t impossible.

She knew very well that if any new professional interpreters came to the hospital, they would definitely prioritize internal candidates, and at the moment, no one was more professional than her.

On the day she left, May 5th, she didn’t meet Pei Zhen. The only thing in her email was a recommendation letter, heartfelt and thorough—his final gift to her.

She wasn’t as sad as she had imagined. After all, she had only worked there for a year. If she really wanted to see Pei Zhen, it wasn’t impossible—she was still involved in the renovation project, and Li Ai was still overseeing it. Pei Zhen was also a regular at REGARD.

However, they wouldn’t be colleagues anymore. As for her, she had already become a legend in the hospital—”The most promising interpreter, pursued by two handsome men, but messed everything up, now leaving the hospital to join the EU interpretation department…”

The good thing about gossip was that, even though she hadn’t even taken the exam, she was already embedded in the hospital’s legend.

Her father, on the other hand, was furious. Hu Xiu certainly hadn’t forgotten this god-like figure. The calls kept coming until her phone automatically turned off.

The calls made her phone overheat, and her father’s central message remained the same: “What on earth are you thinking? Not being with Xiao Pei, not working at the hospital—do you know how hard it is to find a job now?

You’re 27, almost 28, and still hanging out with some small-time actor! Are you out of your mind? Just like your mom, stuck in the north, living with a good-for-nothing…”

“Dad, I’m single.” Hu Xiu enunciated clearly. “And I’m preparing to take the EU interpretation program exam. My goals are clear, and I’ve planned my time accordingly. You don’t need to worry…

Also, ‘good-for-nothing’? You’re way past the age where you should be using that kind of language. Please change your tone.”

“Oh, so you broke up? Do you have money? You’ll regret it if you starve!”

“I make at least 50,000-60,000 a month... I have regular part-time interpretation work…”

Her father was speechless: “You’ve really grown wings…”

Of course, she had! Hu Xiu looked at the partially faded marriage certificate on the table. “Think about yourself, Dad. You’re almost 60 and still don’t have a partner. Who’s going to take care of you in your old age? I’m not very filial, so don’t come to Shanghai to bother me. I need to focus on studying.”

Her father hung up. Hu Xiu put the overheated phone on the table—was her father not as harsh as before?

He wasn’t as mean as he used to be, and he didn’t lash out as much. After thinking for a while, Hu Xiu realized that her father, someone who admired strength, would only stop being mean to her once she became excellent. And… turning the tables on him with some psychological tactics seemed effective.

A text came through—it was from her dad. His tone was still harsh and non-negotiable: “If you don’t pass the exam next year, you’ll obediently get married and I’ll find you a partner.”

It never ends. Hu Xiu sighed. Her father was the type who would never see things from his children’s perspective. The love he couldn’t express, thinking he was being thoughtful, was all just ineffective communication.

She hadn’t seen Diao Zhi Yu for a long time.

By June 29th, Hu Xiu and Zhao Xiao Rou went to the AsiaWorld-Expo in Hong Kong and sat in the front row to watch Super Junior’s concert with Eunhyuk and Donghae.

At first, they thought they would be typical long-time fans, playing on their phones while occasionally mocking the duo. But when the lights went down, they screamed and hugged each other, excited.

Zhao Xiao Rou pulled out her folding lightboard and glow sticks, and even took out her iPad with scrolling subtitles in flawless Korean: “Lazy men, release a dance practice version! Love you, your loyal fan…”

Hu Xiu didn’t know if the two on stage saw them, but she felt embarrassed sitting there.

Zhao Xiao Rou, as a fan, never missed an opportunity to bring out her lightboards for every performance. She’d even made one for Qin Xiao Yi years ago…

Listening to the love songs, Hu Xiu thought that Diao Zhi Yu might have been a trainee too, with ten years of classical dance training, great eloquence, and a sharp mind. He could have debuted as a little version of Cai Xukun—

No, he couldn’t sing or compose. Forget it. If he could accumulate some fame and become an actor, that would be fine—taking the scenic route…

She was an interpreter for large conferences, and even if the gossip about her being an ex-girlfriend got out, it wouldn’t necessarily embarrass him.

She could write a post clarifying that they broke up before becoming trainees, and that Diao Zhi Yu was the most considerate and pure-hearted boyfriend, a perfect man, loyal and devoted…

Thinking about it, she almost started crying. Zhao Xiao Rou hugged her tightly, also teary-eyed, and shouted along with the performers on stage: “Can you feel it! Can you feel it!”

Wiping away her smudged makeup, Hu Xiu joined in singing loudly—how could she not be happy to see Lee Donghae, who reminded her of her ex-husband?

Hu Xiu thought to herself, “Husband, no, ex-husband, I’m heartbroken, please comfort me tonight…”

Besides the concert, the two of them, holding glowing support sticks, sang songs together as if they had drunk too much.

They belted out old K-pop songs, and then started singing “You’re My Sister, You’re My Baby.”

Zhao Xiao Rou pulled Hu Xiu into a tight hug and kissed her hard on the cheek, leaving a big lip print: “Hu Xiu, even if I don’t have a man in this lifetime, with a friend like you, I’m fulfilled!

Who needs a man? Who cares about Li Ai? Tonight, I saw Lee Donghae, and I still have you!”

Hu Xiu’s head was pounding from the loud music, and her ears were still ringing. Zhao Xiao Rou’s constant cheek kisses got the better of her, and she finally joined in singing “Single’s Song.”

She thought, pretending not to miss Diao Zhi Yu would be a lie. Especially sitting in the front row, watching the stars perform, the heartbreak felt just like sitting front row at a concert of Da Qi Nana watching Ben Cheng Lian.

“I’m telling you, I’m planning to give up on Li Ai and move to Shenzhen.”

“What are you talking about?” Hu Xiu turned over, “You can’t leave. If you leave, we three will really be over.”

“Forget it, let’s not talk about it tonight, okay?” Zhao Xiao Rou seemed upset, “Li Ai isn’t stopping me, but it’s okay. If he did, I might waver.”

It was inevitable that fans attending concerts would pull all-nighters and mess up their sleep schedules. After singing all night until the early hours, they flew back to Shanghai the next day, their energy spent, and their emotional outbursts pretty much exhausted. For half a month, neither of them had any messages on WeChat.

The next contact was in July.

“How’s the studying going?”

“Normal, I’ve taken six translation gigs.”

“Nice, it’s only the second week of July, and you’re already earning more than when you were working full-time. I’m telling you, you don’t need to go any higher, you could become a content creator, gain some fans. Do you really need to join the EU Translation Service?”

“I want to see a bigger world,” Hu Xiu said, flipping through a book while on the phone. “You don’t know what it feels like to be considered a top expert.”

“I don’t want to know. Anyway, you won’t make more than I do. I recently found a new project—there’s a murder mystery studio in Shanghai, the best one around. They’ve put together a whole set of seven scripts, creating a Republic of China-era ‘script universe’!

“The biggest one is in the suburbs, a three-story building. It’s called ‘Shanghai Windstorm.’

“Unfortunately, it’s on the weekend. You’re doing translations, and I’m too busy, but let’s play the prequel at Xujiahui on a weekday.”

“I don’t have time,” Hu Xiu flipped through the calendar. “Every second counts for my studying.”

“Stop talking nonsense. Hu Xiu, don’t think I can’t see your level. If I made you take the test now, you probably wouldn’t pass. You’ve already worked as a conference translator, and now you’re doing this project just for a certificate. Besides, you’ve been working so hard studying, getting up at five in the morning. You’re only short on time.”

“Alright, it’s decided. I’ve booked the ‘Soul Capture’ for tomorrow, 2:30 PM. It’s a Republican-era mystery script. Meet me at Xietu Road on time!”

Zhao Xiaoru knew Hu Xiu’s preferences well—Republican-era plus mystery, investigative drama. Hu Xiu would never turn it down.

The main character is Song Mingzhang, the head of the French Concession police station. When investigating the cause of death of a Japanese national, he discovers a camera. The photos reveal Du Mingquan, a mafia boss; Shen Ling, a beautiful movie star with a hidden story; and Han Yiqiu, the owner of the camera…

Hu Xiu picked a side character’s script, the president of the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce. She and the group fought their way through the puzzle, piecing together most of the story. Du Mingquan was young and bold, illiterate, with one weak point: his deep love for Shen Ling.

Shen Ling, secretly an intelligence agent, had gathered many compromising pieces of information on Du Mingquan. Han Yiqiu, originally just a hitman in the concession, secretly fell for Shen Ling because of the information she had.

The seven characters were in fierce conflict, but in the end, they never figured out who would win between the police, the mafia, and the Communists.

During the debriefing, the Dungeon Master (DM) handed the players a manual for ‘Shanghai Windstorm,’ a 20-page introduction to the large suburban venue. “This is the best immersive theater in Shanghai right now. It has 50 professional NPC actors performing live. The venue is also rented out to TV drama crews filming Republican-era shows. Very professional. Feel free to visit when you have time…”

Hu Xiu was just out to have fun, but as they left the murder mystery venue, her first reaction was to urge Zhao Xiaoru: “Where’s the ‘Shanghai Windstorm’ in the suburbs? I want to book tickets. The DM just said there are twelve storylines and over a hundred side missions!”

“Did you hear that? Gangs, brothels, churches, police stations, the Japanese, the American consulate…”

Zhao Xiaoru’s phone kept buzzing with messages, and she didn’t bother responding. “What’s the point? You want to play through all twelve storylines?”

“No, I’m just curious about whether Han Yiqiu ends up with Shen Ling in this story.”

“Are you kidding? Han Yiqiu obviously gets killed off. Didn’t you hear that Du Mingquan is based on Du Yuesheng?”

“Not necessarily. The author might not write it that way,” Hu Xiu said, downloading the Ferris wheel app. “Wow, this murder mystery event is held at a film studio. One session costs a thousand bucks for both parts. Good thing I’m not the broke Hu Xiu I used to be.”

“This isn’t a murder mystery event with Diao Zhi Yu, what’s the big deal?”

Hu Xiu froze for a second. “It’s the charm of murder mystery. I’m not just doing it for Diao Zhi Yu.

“You said I should have some hobbies, right? I’ve decided this is it. I’ll play every weekend. If you’re not coming, I’ll go by myself.”

The weekend quickly arrived. Hu Xiu still carried a thick vocabulary list in her bag. After getting off the highway, they drove through the winding roads of Songjiang District and into a small alley.

What they saw next made both Hu Xiu and Zhao Xiaoru gape—there was a real green train and platform, a vintage Republican-era street, typical three-story western-style buildings from the concession, and a clock tower showing the time… This was the location for ‘Shanghai Windstormstorm.’

Hu Xiu drew the role of a reporter, while nearby, experienced players were exchanging name tags.

In ‘Shanghai Windstorm,’ roles weren’t hidden. Each faction’s players didn’t have specific roles but acted as apprentices.

An experienced player mentioned that the most popular actor, who had only been there for a month and a half, had risen from a minor doctor role to the main character.

Hu Xiu was confused, went to check the actor list, and saw many handsome actors and actresses, but who was the most popular?

Zhao Xiaoru got a police station role. They went their separate ways, guided by actors, to complete their tasks in the immersive theater.

None of the players had task cards, and they relied on the leader to assign them tasks and interact with other actors.

Thanks to her experience in “Snowpiercer,” Hu Xiu’s acting had improved a lot. Not even half an hour in, Zhao Xiaoru ran over to her, swearing: “I can’t believe it!”

“Stop it. It’s 1941 in the concession. What kind of dogs do you think are around here?”

Zhao Xiaoru pointed to a man in a white shirt standing on the second floor, looking down. “Do you see who that is?”

“Who else would it be? Old friend?”

Hu Xiu looked up, the sunlight from the ceiling blinding her eyes. Her lips trembled for two seconds.

An experienced player, passing by, smiled and said, “That’s Han Yiqiu, the most popular actor in Shanghai Windstormstorm right now!”

Hu Xiu stood frozen, muttering, “Oh my god…”

Diao Zhiyu…