Chapter 14

When you cannot get a clear answer to what you want, you leave an “undecided” open-ended conclusion.

Gu Yi didn’t expect such a thing to happen around her. The last time something like this shocked her was when the leader of a Korean idol group committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning in a hotel. She often played the music of this group, and she even bought their albums as a casual fan. It was hard for her to accept that the idol, who always conveyed a smile, suddenly decided to end his life. A year later, she still couldn’t believe it. Later, she specifically went through his variety shows and researched about “smiling depression” to understand that some people may seem to smile on the outside but are already falling apart on the inside. Just like the letter left by the Korean star to his sister: “I’m in too much pain, let me go.”

When she received this phone call, her first reaction was to quickly search for the hotel name and check-in information. The fact that Gu Yi could get through to Liang Daiwen meant that she still needed someone to step in at a critical moment. Or perhaps, if she could ask for help, it meant that the determination to die wasn’t as strong.

The words “carbon monoxide poisoning” were still too heartbreaking.

Liang Daiwen was the only one informed about the hotel address. On the way, Gu Yi felt uneasy, praying that nothing would happen and that they wouldn’t be too late. Meanwhile, Liang Daiwen remained calm, like a statue, even urging the driver with a cold, frightening demeanor, making the driver speed up in a panic. In moments like these, his lack of emotions proved beneficial. In a crisis, he remained calm and even seemed accustomed to it.

Gu Yi couldn’t help but ask, “Has she done this before?”

“No, this is the first time.”

“Then how can you stay so calm...”

“Why are you asking this? Did you just meet me?”

Even in such a dire moment, Liang Daiwen could still throw sarcastic remarks. Gu Yi didn’t want to ask about his earlier act of kindness in the elevator anymore; perhaps his sadness in that moment was just due to the crowded elevator.

How could there be such a person?

Suddenly, Yu Dule sent a WeChat message: “Is this Guan Xingxin?”

The message contained screenshots of chat records and a video. The words “destroying families” and “seduction” and “mistress” on the screen were eye-catching. The screenshots contained WeChat messages, with the terms “baby” and flirtatious emoji typical of love-struck conversations. Guan Xingxin’s Weibo posts revealed her pain, torn between love and distance. The final image was the most shocking: the wife of the man had sent Guan Xingxin a message with a photo of her husband’s phone: “Your panties are with me.”

It was downright scandalous. Gu Yi instinctively became cautious of such one-sided accusations; the media often spins narratives with dramatic reversals, and the first one to seize public attention is not necessarily the victim. She had a rough understanding of the situation: Guan Xingxin had a boyfriend, a music blogger in his thirties. His wife exposed her information, even found her workplace, and caused her public humiliation. Yu Dule continued, “I really didn’t expect this girl’s story to unfold this way.”

Liang Daiwen explained the situation to the hotel front desk. The manager hurriedly took them upstairs. When the room door opened, smoke poured out. Liang Daiwen stopped Gu Yi at the door, covering his nose and mouth as he entered to carry Guan Xingxin out. Calmly, he told the hotel manager, “Sorry, I’ll take my friend to the hospital. I’ll compensate for the damages later.”

Turning to Gu Yi, he said, “I have a business card in my pocket. Could you pass it on for me?”

The manager sighed as he took the card, quickly calling security. Smoke continued to pour out of the room, and Gu Yi, following Liang Daiwen down the corridor, accidentally stepped on her pants and fell flat. Liang Daiwen had already taken the elevator down, and as she turned around, the long, dark red carpet of the corridor seemed like a mute throat.

The smell of charcoal made her head ache; she didn’t want to think about barbecue for the next six months.

When Guan Xingxin woke up, she gave a faint smile and said to Liang Daiwen, “I was going to send you a message at a set time, but I couldn’t find it.”

“What did it feel like, almost dying?”

“It felt like sleep paralysis.”

“You’ve now confirmed this event, but the dead can’t speak.”

Gu Yi asked Liang Daiwen, “Did you know about this earlier?”

Liang Daiwen turned the question around: “How did you know?”

Gu Yi pointed to her phone. “WeChat group. Don’t underestimate the speed of gossip spreading.”

Guan Xingxin, lying in bed, weakly protested, “A week ago, a few accounts started slandering me in live streams. We don’t have to clock in, and when I asked my leader, he told me that his wife had already made a scene at the company. The company initially thought that Leila was just a virtual image and that my personal scandal wouldn’t matter, so they didn’t communicate with me. Later, his wife went on Weibo and posted. The whole ‘exposing the mistress’ thing was a big public spectacle. But I swear... I was the last to know he had a wife.”

“How did you two meet?”

“I commented on his Weibo. He often goes to music festivals, and there’s a band I like. Maybe he saw photos on my Weibo, so he asked me out. We even went to a HYOKOH concert together. He’s a bit melancholic, loves to wear Yohji Yamamoto and Japanese-style clothes. I thought he was just a single playboy...”

Liang Daiwen asked, “Did you take the medicine Dr. Shen prescribed?”

“At this point, taking medicine doesn’t matter. Leila’s image has been banned, and the account has been taken over by the company. I don’t know if there’s anything left to cling to.”

Gu Yi didn’t understand. “What do you mean by banned?”

“The company is going to replace the actor behind Leila. Leila’s official Weibo has been taken over, and the idol image can’t be tarnished, so the character has to be put on ice for now. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing at the company next.”

Gu Yi understood now. Guan Xingxin had two clear identities behind “Leila”: on one hand, she was a virtual personality, created by the company’s design and her own additions of charm and personality, injecting a completely different soul—passionate, cheerful, sexy, and alluring. This made her one of the fastest-growing virtual streamers. On the other hand, she might have intentionally made herself appear more promiscuous to attract more attention and views, since anything controversial would help draw the audience.

Her private Weibo posts, filled with flirtatious remarks and videos from her live streams, were magnified, leading many to believe she was indeed a mistress.

Now, lying in a hospital bed, she was still being attacked online—those who worked as streamers were “born guilty.” Guan Xingxin smiled, “I still have several packages delivered to my door. I’m too scared to open them.”

“So, you ran to the hotel to burn charcoal?” Liang Daiwen said. “To fulfill your wish of ‘even if it’s just a flower, I want to die at its most beautiful moment,’ burning yourself with a rosy complexion? Aren’t you afraid of setting the hotel on fire?”

Gu Yi and Liang Daiwen have certainly received their fair share of criticism. The hotel manager’s complaints and the doctor’s harsh words could easily make it into the social news. Guan Xingxin stared at the ceiling, accustomed to the unhappiness:

“I wasn’t really planning to live this long either.”

When Guan Xingxin fell asleep, the two snuck out to a convenience store for a late-night snack. Liang Daiwen grabbed a bottle of Powerade while Gu Yi rushed out with instant noodles, bending down to sit on the curb. Gu Yi quickly typed on her phone, adding and removing messages, then placed the phone on her lap and slurped the noodles while seeming to be deep in thought. After repeating the same messages a few times, she looked up and noticed Liang Daiwen had greeted her—her attention was still on the phone.

She typed a few more messages of similar length and let out a sigh. Liang Daiwen was still watching her, like someone observing animals at a zoo. Gu Yi exhaled and explained, “I suddenly had an inspiration. Writing a joke like this can’t be delayed. The word order, logic—everything has to come together in one go, or I might forget it.”

“On a night when someone almost died, you’re still writing jokes?”

“You’re not reacting at all! Didn’t you see the manager’s look when he rushed out holding Guan Xingxin? He thought you were some heartless jerk, mumbling that you’re so indifferent, like the person’s almost dying and you don’t even care.”

Liang Daiwen tilted his head to drink some water, and Gu Yi thought to herself, this person was drinking like a beast in need of water. He let out a soft burp. “What reaction should I have? Should I be devastated?”

Gu Yi quickly waved her hand. “Forget it, forget it. Your acting skills are too scary. If the hotel hadn’t caught fire, your fake crying might’ve summoned spirits.”

The person beside her was still drinking, gulp after gulp.

A cold wind blew through the street, a few leaves brushing past them. Gu Yi thought, the interviews during the day, writing jokes at night, and performing—her life hadn’t been this turbulent for a long time. Yet, someone who seemed as still as Liang Daiwen had made her life feel like a constant battle.

Guan Xingxin in a relationship didn’t seem as powerful as I imagined. I thought she was so beautiful and fashionable, she must be a love expert.

“She didn’t have any relationships before university.”

“Oh?”

“She’s congenitally blind, and her corneas were donated by a girl from a car accident. Both families lavished love on her. Everything in her life was arranged for her. Later, she started to rebel when she came to Shanghai, and had some depression. After getting a partner, things didn’t go smoothly.”

Gu Yi felt a bit sad. She had thought that Guan Xingxin, being beautiful and graceful, seemed like a proud swan, and the things happening to her must be some passionate, dramatic love story. But it turned out to be one of the most ordinary kinds of love—one where an excellent girl, protected her whole life, learned love theories only from novels and movies, regurgitating astrology and gossip, but had no real experience. In the end, her romantic partners weren’t “ordinary people,” but the worst kind, messing up her youth and pushing her into a marriage arranged by her family.

Even after marrying, she wasn’t satisfied with love. Then, when someone willing to chase after her with love appeared, she was tempted to cheat.

So, when Guan Xingxin ended up in bed with a married man, Gu Yi wasn’t surprised at all. But Liang Daiwen spoke of her with a tone that seemed to carry some tenderness. “You don’t think she has a bad character?”

“No.” Gu Yi shook her head. “I’m actually slow when it comes to these things. My mom’s relationship problems are worse than hers. She’s still dating, but her taste in men is as blurry as cataracts. But I think, after all this, she’s doing okay. Honestly, she seems more alive than those who’ve married once and settled into a stable marriage.”

“I don’t see it.”

“By your analysis, I guess I’m a pampered girl?”

“Not really, you’ve always been short on money.”

Gu Yi furrowed her brows. “Every time I try to open up to you, you just shut me down.”

“Weren’t you asking me if I like you earlier?”

The feeling of hanging on a clothesline returned. She should’ve waited for Liang Daiwen’s answer in the quiet of the night, but suddenly, he said, “No, what I mean is, you’ve helped me so much recently. I should thank you. You can go ahead now, there are only girls in the ward, and it’s not convenient for a guy to stay.”

Sometimes, she would have this kind of intuition, leaving an “open-ended” conclusion when she couldn’t get a definite answer.

After Liang Daiwen left, Guan Xingxin gently leaned beside Gu Yi, silently enjoying the feeling of having a friend. That book club might have been some magic, or maybe Liang Daiwen’s emotional disorder was a secret that brought them closer. Guan Xingxin spoke softly and opened her mouth first: “Don’t worry, I definitely don’t like Liang Daiwen, I’m not your rival.”

“Hm?”

“The type I like is… Liang Daiwen may have an emotional disorder, but he’s too normal. I didn’t like anyone before I graduated because I thought boys my age were too shallow. After graduation, the first person I liked was an artist I met at an exhibition in 798, very talented but very introverted. Then I liked my therapist, but… how should I put it, he’s good to his patients, but I can feel that he still sees us as ‘patients.’ The third one, you already know, I guess… I’m too embarrassed to talk about it. But Liang Daiwen will never leave, he’s always been a friend to me.”

Gu Yi didn’t respond. Guan Xingxin added that sometimes, she did get tired of this friend because she couldn’t get any emotional feedback from him.

Could that be true? Every time, she was verbally destroyed, losing her faith in life. Handsome yet sharp-tongued—did that count as no feedback? But this made her feel the desire for comparison: “Is this blogger handsome...”

“He’s a fan of ripping manga.”

Gu Yi leaned in to look at the photo, confused, furrowing her brow at the phone: the first one was a side profile by a lakeside at sunset, his face seemed squashed by a shoe, and the second one was with a musician at a music festival. Ripped manga? Was it Ito Junji?

Guan Xingxin seemed still emotionally affected: “Do you think he’s not very handsome?”

“I don’t know how to judge. A ‘manga ripper’ should be a man who steps out of a torn manga. Is he someone who tore up the manga because he’s too ugly compared to the characters?”

This was the first time Gu Yi made Guan Xingxin laugh. She sat at the edge of the bed, her long skirt covering her legs, her hair falling over her shoulders, revealing a beautiful yet innocent face. “There are some things I can’t say with Liang Daiwen around, but actually... I want to get revenge.”