Chapter 91

Everyone, bring your dream invitation, and follow me.

This news was sent by Tracy to Hu Xiu. Hu Xiu had just forwarded it to Zhao Xiaorou when Zhao Xiaorou’s call came in, asking bluntly, “What happened? Did he get caught for soliciting prostitutes, scamming, or did someone’s husband send him in?”

“You knew about it first?”

“What’s there to talk about with this kind of man? What other way is there for him to get caught?”

Zhao Xiaorou drove to Hu Xiu’s place to gossip. It had only been three days since the Economic Investigation Bureau took Ma Liang away, and the way his legendary story came to an end was a surprise to them.

The last news Hu Xiu had heard was that in his hot romance, Darcy had taken him to a friend’s party, to a farmhouse to watch a bonfire, and even to the north to ski. Ma Liang had posted a lot of pictures on social media, no longer having to steal other people’s photos to boast.

Zhao Xiaorou had long been privately criticizing that, even though this woman lived in a villa in the western suburbs, she wasn’t someone high-class. At least, the events where she brought Ma Liang didn’t sound that fancy.

Ma Liang had met so many of her friends, and had begun to believe he had reached a certain social standing. He would tell anyone that he was Darcy’s fiancé—after eating tofu rice together, it was practically as if they had met each other’s parents.

It was said that during the honeymoon phase, he even deleted all his likes for big-chested influencers on Douyin and Weibo, and when he went to eat tofu rice, he was totally clean.

If people knew when to stop and not overreach, there probably wouldn’t be so many sudden downfalls.

As a rich woman’s man, Ma Liang couldn’t just think of staying as a junior executive at Ogilvy, doing all the dirty work—writing English emails and replying with a dictionary, and having to ask Hu Xiu to help revise them—it was exhausting.

If one couldn’t handle the job and was too lazy to improve themselves to adapt, the best thing to do was to quit.

And Darcy suited him perfectly. They liked the same things, she loved him so much, and a little greed might not hurt.

This time, he didn’t want a watch. Instead, while they were in a passionate romance at the ski resort, he affectionately told Darcy, “Being in advertising is too tiring. I thought I could work while being with you, but recently I’ve had to work so much overtime, I don’t have time to be with you.”

“If I were a freelancer, it’d be much better. I could wake up with you every day and fall asleep in your arms. I’d manage a little business, and with how hardworking I am, I’d make a great wife.”

“The most important thing is I love you, and I want to be with you forever. After all, you are the woman I love most in this life.”

Darcy really opened an esports club for him, and with her best friend, each contributed one million, writing Ma Liang’s name in love.

The store was in the old Minhang central district. On the day it opened, Ma Liang posted a photo standing in front of the esports club with his two thumbs up in front of his chest: “At 25, I’ve gained a career and a lover through my own efforts. How gratifying.”

The photo was accompanied by a selfie of Darcy, a woman in her early thirties with single eyelids and pouting lips, wearing 10mm thick fake eyelashes, no fillers, not conventionally beautiful, but very confident.

This was Ma Liang’s first time posting a picture of his girlfriend on social media, and with that, Darcy seemed to have officially been recognized as the love of his life.

“So, how did he end up getting arrested?”

“Darcy fell out with her best friend. The rumor going around was that Darcy’s big mouth leaked that her best friend went to a Suzhou club to meet a young prince, and the husband of the best friend heard about it.”

“The best friend’s secondary card was canceled, and she was so angry that she was ready to pull out of the esports club. Darcy stubbornly denied that it was her loose lips, refusing to pay, and the best friend sued her—Ma Liang was the legal representative.”

“The verdict is coming soon. Tracy says Ma Liang won’t go to jail, but he will have to pay. And after Ma Liang was taken to the detention center, Darcy dumped him, sold off the esports club, leaving just a shell for Ma Liang to deal with. The latest version is that Darcy and the club’s young prince are now in a hot romance.”

After hearing this last part from Hu Xiu, Zhao Xiaorou blew out a smoke ring: “This Darcy is something. She probably went through all this for the little prince, and there’s some serious enmity with that best friend.”

“Never underestimate a woman’s scheming. For love, they can act and play games, and their skills get deeper each time.”

“Haha! I thought Ma Liang would climb to some great position after all those wild experiences, but a small esports club sent him to prison. He really hasn’t seen money before.”

“All his exes were women making seven figures a year! I even feel sorry for him… but he’s not worth it.”

The silly and naive man who once slept on the sofa in the secret room had now ended up like this. Neither of the two women felt entirely satisfied.

Hu Xiu furrowed her brows. “You drove all the way here just to hear gossip?”

“Yeah, it’s boring to hear it over the phone. Where’s Diao Zhi Yu?”

“He didn’t come today.”

“You two aren’t living together yet? My goodness, Hu Xiu, you’re both paying rent for a crappy place, you could combine it and at least rent a two-bedroom apartment with an elevator.

I’m not being overly frugal, but it’s unnecessary to be running around like this. Your relationship is so good, why make the handsome guy live so far away to see you? It’s a waste.”

“Okay, I get it.” Hu Xiu recalled the night when she and Diao Zhi Yu held hands under the Nanjing building. “It’s not that we don’t live together, but when he comes back, he has rehearsals for the drama troupe, and on weekends, he works as an NPC. We only get to see each other once a week...”

Zhao Xiaorou leaned in close, looking her in the eye. “A handsome guy left unchecked will get lost. Don’t treat a man like a loyal dog.”

“I’m charming too!” Hu Xiu flicked her hair. “Forget it, I’m off to do some volunteer work.”

Hu Xiu’s first event related to psychological reconstruction had more participants than she expected.

Shen Zhiming had mentioned before that, in Shanghai, no matter what kind of event it was, the engagement and interaction would always be better than in other cities, which was why he chose to develop his career here after returning to China.

Without the option of simultaneous interpretation booths, this time she needed to do interactive interpretation. As she waited for the event to begin, Shen Zhiming sat at the host position, and Pei Zhen sat beside him, ready to explain a case. Neither of them spoke, focusing on their preparations.

Since this was a volunteer event, as Hu Xiu looked at before-and-after photos of reconstructive surgeries, she felt a deep sense of sorrow and compassion.

The patients and their families had endured much more gossip and exclusion than she had imagined;

And the small bits of encouragement came mostly from fellow patients in the same ward or from young people online—

The former were enduring pain together and supported each other, essentially cheering themselves on;

The latter’s kindness and empathy were unexpected. She had assumed people would be indifferent, but instead, strangers sent blessings and support. Just thinking about this made her feel that participating in this event was somewhat of a duty.

Shen Zhiming was still introducing the audience: “Today’s cases are all very special. On the screen, you can see a girl born with facial defects. Two months ago, she came to the hospital for facial reconstruction.

She brought 20,000 yuan in cash, which she had saved from working in a factory since she was twelve. Medically, she has no nasal septum or nasal columella, which makes the reconstruction extremely difficult. The surgery was performed multiple times.

But she had a very strong will; after being mocked and discriminated against for over ten years, she was deeply self-conscious.

After four surgeries, we used rib cartilage implanted into the scalp to gradually rebuild her nose...”

Pei Zhen didn’t stop throughout the whole segment, and suddenly realized he had gone on too long.

Hu Xiu smiled and continued translating without error—long-form translation was her strength, her longest record being 7 minutes.

She suddenly felt grateful for this kind of environment. Compared to reviewing at home, this level of intensity in translation was the best training.

Especially since she was sitting in front of the audience, facing the big screen, she stood tall and full of confidence, her efforts rewarded by sincere gazes and thoughtful reactions. It was far more brilliant than any moment spent in a simultaneous translation booth.

After the event, Shen Zhiming stood up to thank the audience and specifically pointed to her. “Thanks to our interpreter, Teacher Hu Xiu.”

She stood up and bowed, and when she lifted her head, she saw Pei Zhen smiling at her from not far away.

The event ended, but consultations were still going on. Several young doctors were surrounded, answering questions. Hu Xiu began packing her things to leave, and Shen Zhiming squeezed through the crowd. “Teacher Hu, thank you for helping us with the international connection. This will bring more support to our event.”

He spoke with a slight foreign language accent: “If possible, could I ask you to come more often for our events?”

“Of course...” Although there was no pay, his sincerity was enough to make her agree.

Shen Zhiming suddenly asked, “Are you working as a full-time interpreter now?”

“Yes. I’m also preparing for an exam.”

“That’s impressive...”

“Huh?”

“You’re so steady at this age,” Shen Zhiming couldn’t resist lighting a cigarette. “I’m much older than you, and my anxiety is probably ten times yours.”

Hu Xiu thought to herself, perhaps being an interpreter really did give off an aura of stability. The profession truly had a big influence on one’s character. When she worked in advertising, she was constantly challenged by clients, rewriting copy several times and being questioned on her character, abilities, reading level, and hormone levels...

But as an interpreter, at least after going through rigorous training, everything coming through her ears was certain.

She was also proud of herself for becoming a seasoned interpreter.

“You’ve appeared several times, but I haven’t seen your boyfriend,” Shen Zhiming remarked.

“He’s an actor in immersive theater on the weekends. We’re both busy.”

“I heard he’s younger than you?”

“Yes. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like a younger brother.”

Shen Zhiming took out a cigarette as he chatted with Hu Xiu. “Sorry, the craving kicked in. I can’t smoke in front of Pei Zhen, he doesn’t allow it.”

“He would make a good father,” Hu Xiu glanced back. The tall Pei Zhen stood out in the crowd, answering questions attentively, looking the patient’s family in the eye, explaining with patience.

“Who knows? A few days ago, he took some time off and didn’t go home, drinking alone in his office. He told me that people are selfish. They may act like they care about those they can’t have, feeling heartbroken. But most of the time, they end up becoming the heartbreaking hero, and the one they choose still satisfies their own desires.”

Hu Xiu didn’t respond. Her phone rang, and Diao Zhi Yu hurriedly sent an update: “I’ve had dinner, the second half of the evening show is starting.” He had become used to reporting every step of his schedule.

“Your boyfriend must be handsome, being an actor,” Shen Zhiming said as he finished his cigarette, his tone gossiping.

“Of course...”

It was time to leave. The trip to suburban Shanghai Windstorm, by metro and bus, would take about two hours.

Hu Xiu squeezed past the chair, maneuvering around the aunts who were still eagerly asking questions and chatting, bending down to grab her bag. When she stood up, she met Pei Zhan’s gaze.

He listened patiently to the questions, his eyes finding her through the crowd. Those were the kind of eyes that, once they settled on someone, seemed to spill out a story, and when their gazes met, the story unfolded—intimate, twisting, lingering, as if still unwritten.

Hu Xiu smiled and turned around, knowing that his gaze would follow her out, and she wouldn’t look back.

Standing outside Shanghai Windstorm, the venue was quiet. She wore a skirt, her bare legs slightly aching from the cold.

She walked deeper into the film and television base. Nearby, a crew was having dinner. Extras were sitting on the ground with their lunchboxes, while those with tables and chairs seemed to have it a bit better, with steam rising from a pot of soup.

The train whistle blew—much louder than the one from the Snowpiercer, the steam startled her. A film or drama was being shot at the station.

She looked from a distance, feeling strangely fascinated, like she was inside a fictional story, merely an observer of it all.

The actors in front of her had probably been in more scripts and stories than she had, yet none of them had become the memorable characters. Life is like a play, and not everyone gets to be the lead.

The play was over. Players and actors were walking out behind her. Hu Xiu walked forward, recognizing familiar faces—Du Mingquan, Shen Ling, Xia Xue, Dai Li, Chen Mingzhang...

She once left real stories in those parallel timelines, during their fixed performances—one such story from April 1941, a gangster’s underling begged Han Yiqiu to marry Du Mingquan, and killed Shen Ling to become the wife of the gang leader...

She smiled, realizing it wasn’t just a single actor she admired, but rather—the immersive theatre had given her memories that felt like dreams where she was the real heroine.

“You’re here?” Diao Zhiyu, still dressed in Han Yiqiu’s costume, excitedly walked over. “I was just about to text you.”

“Because I wanted to see you.” Looking at Diao Zhiyu, she still couldn’t help feeling shy. Dressed in this costume, he seemed to have a new identity. Seeing him like this made it feel as though Han Section Chief was pressing her head down in the play.

But the burden of the Section Chief was gone: “Wait for me to go upstairs and change. Shall we take the shuttle back? Are we going to your place or mine today? I don’t think I have any food at home, we’ll have to buy sandwiches downstairs...”

“Let’s go house-hunting tomorrow.” Hu Xiu smiled, “Let’s find a place with a kitchen, I’m tired of sandwiches.”

Before she could finish, Diao Zhiyu quickly spun her around in his arms. Hu Xiu felt dizzy, almost like her brain was spinning out—how could there be such a show-off of affection? Had he forgotten he was the most popular male actor at Shanghai Windstorm? Didn’t he want the prize for first place?

A player yelled out, “Han Section Chief, both in and out of character, a wife-pampering maniac! How creepy!”

Another player carried a box of fireworks—romance outside the outer ring, where fireworks could be set off.

A young player handed Hu Xiu a sparkler and innocently said, “Sister, you’re so pretty! We were all crying for Han Section Chief in the play because he didn’t get Shen Ling.

We didn’t expect he had such a beautiful girlfriend outside of the play, now we don’t have to feel sorry for him!”

“You can still feel sorry for him, after all, I really cried,” Diao Zhiyu grinned, and the players laughed even harder, “Sister, your boyfriend never smiles like that, he’s usually an ice mountain!”

Diao Zhiyu whispered in her ear, “These are veteran players who’ve been through twenty rounds, only in their teens.”

They played with sparklers and blew bubbles. Hu Xiu watched as Du Mingquan and Shen Ling were teased and grouped together, as was Dai Li, hugging Xia Xue, and Chen Mingzhang, who secretly looked at Du Mingquan.

Against the backdrop of fireworks and bubbles, each person’s eyes sparkled in their own unique way.

The players of the murder mystery game were so innocent. They loved the actors in the play, and naturally extended that affection to their families.

She had heard of jealousy and competition before—bickering among the wealthy women—and it all formed the magical player universe.

Thinking back to the painful cases she had seen that afternoon, she suddenly understood why the quiet and reserved players stayed here, hidden in the chaotic world of 1941. To them, perhaps this world was a paradise.

In the intense light, Hu Xiu watched Diao Zhiyu draw shapes in the air with his sparkler.

Even though the fireworks only lasted a moment, the shape of a heart remained in her eyes. Diao Zhiyu smiled at her, his handsome face glowing with joy. She thought, how wonderful it felt to create memories with the one you love.

Watching fireworks together with you felt like witnessing a brilliant starry sky scattered in front of us.

Do you know? Among the falling fireworks, in every world of illusion and reality, I want to be with you forever.

And if I said it now, it would interrupt your innocent smile.

On the way back, Diao Zhiyu kept happily swaying his head to the music. Hu Xiu, dizzy from his movements, said, “Diao Zhiyu, you’re crazy.”

He didn’t answer, just kept smiling. At this moment, the joy of living together overshadowed everything.

Unable to resist, Diao Zhiyu texted him in the car: “I can’t make it public, but I received an invitation from a famous experimental theatre company.

So, for a while, I might really have to rehearse for the play and become a contracted actor, which means I won’t be able to come to play murder mystery on weekends anymore.”

“God...” Hu Xiu glanced around and quietly replied, “How lonely Du Mingquan must be without you.”

Diao Zhiyu rolled his eyes, “I’m straight. New actors will come, everyone has to move forward. My departure also gives new actors a chance. I also have a stage I want to go to.

It was only on the day of the interview that I realized how inadequate I was. My physical condition and acting skills are just average there. The only thing I was thankful for at that moment was my ten years of classical dance background, which was the key to getting in.”

“You’re still handsome,” Hu Xiu thought irritably. How could her boyfriend be considered an ordinary person?

“In their world, handsome guys are the least valuable.”

Hu Xiu followed Diao Zhiyu to the experimental theater—it’s the same Jiangning Road Yihai Theater they had visited before. The play was based on a classic script that had been modified to integrate new modern elements, making everything—from the language to the performance style—absurd and unconventional.

On stage, Diao Zhiyu was rehearsing with serious dedication, which was ironically funny: the gorilla pounded its chest, danced ballet, stood up and fell down, then got back up again, and even sang the internet pop songs he usually hated...

Sweating profusely from the rehearsal, Diao Zhiyu would also ask in confusion, “Isn’t this very different from what I used to perform?”

“A bit...” Hu Xiu rubbed her nose. “You used to be a charming handsome guy, but now you look like you’re not even human.”

“Start with small roles,” he said, his long eyelashes fluttering as he pointed at Hu Xiu with a look of mock severity. “Don’t talk about being an idol or a TV actor. I’m honing my acting skills now.”

His eyes were bright, filled with pride and excitement—he truly loved theater.

Hu Xiu raised her hands. “I didn’t say anything. Besides, I can support you now. I’m an interpreter.”

“After your exams, let’s go to Snowpiercer,” he said.

Hu Xiu froze. “What did you say?”

“Just thinking aloud. They asked me to play as a player. They said it’s been a while since I’ve gone. Now it’s mostly inexperienced young actors, and no one is guiding them, so they’re always lazy. They want me to go and offer some suggestions.”

“Oh...” Hu Xiu felt a bit disappointed. “I thought you’d go back to play Qin Xiaoyi.”

“I’m a theater actor now, no more Qin Xiaoyi. But—” Diao Zhiyu stroked his chin. “Now that you mention it, I could ask for a marriage certificate for a proposal.”

“Ugh,” Hu Xiu squinted at him. “You’re such a freak. Why are you so obsessed with getting married in the play?”

For the two days of her interpretation exam, Hu Xiu stayed near Shanghai International Studies University, focusing entirely on her exams.

Diao Zhiyu kept saying she could pass without studying, but it wasn’t that easy.

Everyone attending the exam had prepared thoroughly, and her advantage was little more than some extra experience.

Along with her application, she had submitted Pei Zhen’s recommendation letter. To be extra cautious, she also included her translation resume of nearly a hundred cases in hospitals, as well as her ongoing plans for public service lectures.

Even now, her mindset as an interpreter seemed less about making a living and more about wanting to do something meaningful.

After completing the final interpretation section, Hu Xiu took off her headphones and stepped outside the school gates. She saw the last streak of sunset sinking behind the tall buildings. She had once loathed Shanghai, hiding in a power-out house in the suburbs, and had seen similar hues before.

Back then, she had feared the coming of night, and with it, despair in this world.

Zhao Xiaoru’s call came at the right time. “Are you done? Don’t forget the 6:30 Snowpiercer tonight. Li Ai and I are about to leave.”

On the subway, she took a moment to check her Bilibili account. The comments and bullet chats were as lively as usual. Every time she mentioned her boyfriend’s situation at the end, the bullet chats doubled in volume, sometimes even covering her face.

As Zhao Xiaoru put it, interpreter influencers like her, whose accounts were not a necessity, had a pathetic amount of followers, with half of them being attracted by her famously handsome boyfriend. Such an account didn’t deserve to enter Zhao Xiaoru’s traffic matrix.

Oh well...

Li Ai and Zhao Xiaoru arrived early. Busy Li Ai was napping on the couch.

It was rare to get together for a game of Snowpiercer, and Zhao Xiaoru brought her cheongsam, especially pulling out her previous dance girl costume. “Don’t forget your original intention. Keep being the most beautiful dancer in Snowpiercer.”

Hu Xiu pursed her lips and looked at the mission card in her bag. It seemed like the plot had changed a bit.

No marriage certificate, no secret boxes—did his character bag contain one?

She was very familiar with the plot, and he wasn’t immature enough to draw characters in Snowpiercer. The most important thing was that the game was supposed to start at 6:30, and now it was already 7:00. Why hadn’t he shown up yet?

One by one, players began arriving. Hu Xiu looked around and saw the actors from Shanghai Wind and Clouds—Du Mingquan, Shen Ling, Dai Li, Chen Mingzhang... All the main role actors had arrived, exactly sixteen people. This session was booked by Diao Zhiyu.

He sure made a big show of it! Was he getting revenge for the last time we had a wedding certificate? She’d only had someone marry her to play the role of the gang leader’s wife in Shanghai Wind and Clouds, but did Diao Zhiyu have such a petty side to make everyone come here to do a wedding certificate for him in Snowpiercer?

The protagonist still hadn’t arrived.

At 7:05, Hu Xiu nervously asked the staff, “Is the show about to start? There’s still one person missing.”

“It’s okay, you can go in first. When your friend arrives, I’ll have an actor take them inside.”

Indeed, being a theater actor really raised his status. Hu Xiu calmly looked at the distant train and iron gate, her heart unruffled. She told Zhao Xiaoru, whoever came out from that door definitely wasn’t Diao Zhiyu.

I can stay expressionless. I can even laugh recklessly, even though it’s a place I once yearned for. But now I’ve grown. I’m only angry at Diao Zhiyu for being late.

The train whistle blew, and Hu Xiu’s grip on Zhao Xiaoru’s hand tightened for a second—an old reflex. She composed herself and said, “Alright, let me see what the new actor is like.”

The iron gate unlocked with a familiar sound. Stepping out was Diao Zhiyu, dressed in a white shirt and vest—Qin Xiaoyi.

Hu Xiu was stunned.

Qin Xiaoyi walked in front of the players, with his butler following behind. He still wore his aloof, cold expression but with an added confidence: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Qin Xiaoyi, the finance minister of Rongcheng. Please have your invitation letters ready.”