NMBJ2 - 11

Xitang crossed her arms, feeling bored as she gazed out the window. The dim, gray daylight gradually brightened in thin streaks. Suddenly, she saw a large black car driving down the driveway in the yard.

Xitang’s heart skipped a beat.

Before her mind had time to process anything, she instinctively hid behind the window.

Her arms tightened subconsciously, pressing against her chest as she tried to suppress the slight trembling in her body. Her heart began to race, and she couldn’t see the car’s license plate. All she could do was watch the car approach, getting closer and closer, until it stopped in front of the inpatient building.

A man of medium build got out from the driver’s seat, and Xitang instantly recognized him as his driver.

In that moment, her heart suddenly calmed.

Her breath stopped, and the world seemed to fade into nothingness. Her pupils spiraled and sank deeply, reflecting only a dazzling, shiny black.

The driver stood by the car, and soon, he quickly walked around to the back seat and opened the door. A man emerged from the inpatient building.

From the upper floor, Xitang couldn’t make out his face but saw a tall figure wearing a dark gray coat and a thick camel-colored scarf around his neck.

The driver opened the door for him, took the bag from his hands, and handed him a pair of black gloves. Zhao Pingjin took them, and at that moment, his assistant walked out of the building and stood behind him, speaking. Zhao Pingjin stopped and listened for a moment. The soft leather gloves were casually held in his hand and not put on. Xitang seemed to feel as if it were her own heart, casually squeezed in his hand, then tapped lightly on the back of his hand, once, then again.

On the back of the man’s pale hand, a winding, dark blue vein was visible.

Her whole body tensed, her muscles numb, and she couldn’t breathe.

Gong Qi briefly reported the schedule for that morning, Zhao Pingjin nodded, and the driver immediately helped him into the back seat, closing the door.

The car drove away quickly.

The next day, Zhao Pingjin invited Gao Jiyi to dinner at Guan Fang Hutong.

It was a private dinner, with Zhao Pingjin only inviting Fang Langxi to accompany him, while he brought Shen Min. When Gao Jiyi entered, he saw Fang Langxi and Shen Min examining an old-style ceramic jar on the tea table.

As soon as Fang Langxi saw Gao Jiyi, he said, “Old Gao, thanks to you, I’ve broadened my horizons today. This is a real gem.”

Gao Jiyi leaned forward to take a look, and his eyes immediately lit up. All the teacups were moved aside, and in the center was a vase with a flower and bird design in famille rose, about two feet tall. He didn’t dare make an immediate judgment, but roughly estimated that if it were genuine, it would likely be from the Jiaqing period.

Gao Jiyi couldn’t suppress his excitement: “Xiao Min, where did this come from?”

Zhao Pingjin, sitting aside, casually handed him a magnifying glass: “A batch was auctioned at Sotheby’s in London last month, and this is the most authentic. You like this stuff, right? Take a look at the condition.”

Gao Jiyi took it, leaned in closely, and examined it carefully, speaking in the tone of an expert: “This body and the painting, only an imperial kiln could have produced it. It’s probably from Tang kiln. Oh, there’s a chip, but it’s very small...”

Fang Langxi also leaned in to look: “Where?”

Gao Jiyi pointed it out to him, pleased with himself, and patted Fang Langxi on the back: “Old Two, do you see it? This condition is perfect.”

Shen Min found a moment to drink some tea, and Zhao Pingjin, who had been asking him to find things all over the place, was doing so to discreetly give them away. He had been mingling with this group of young men for nearly twenty years, and he understood Gao Jiyi well—capable of both yielding and taking advantage, a man with deep schemes. Previously, because Huang Xitang had ruined his promotion, Gao Jiyi hated him to the bone, and things even became tense between Zhao Pingjin and him. It seemed they were about to fall out, until Zhao Pingjin invited him to be the best man at his wedding.

Shen Min had thought that since Gao Jiyi agreed, their past grievances were over.

But he hadn’t expected things were far from settled.

That night, when Gao Jiyi called, Zhao Pingjin was still at the company.

The others moved lazily, leaning half-reclined in their chairs. Shen Min was reviewing the documents for him, highlighting the key points, and making the necessary replies according to his instructions.

Around nine o’clock, Gao Jiyi made a call to Zhao Pingjin’s office, and Secretary He answered the phone.

The call was transferred in, and Zhao Pingjin picked it up.

“Old Gao?”

Gao Jiyi’s voice sounded a bit light, probably after drinking at a dinner party. He was back home, surrounded by the noise of children and the TV: “I’ve got something to tell you. I just had a meal with some of the leaders from the station.”

Gao Jiyi paused after speaking halfway, building suspense.

Zhao Pingjin focused for a moment: “What is it?”

“Coincidentally, Tong Tai is the main judge at this year’s TV festival. The drama aired on Channel 4 this year has good reviews and great ratings. Winning a few awards is no problem, and for Best Actress—Old Tong asked for my opinion.”

Zhao Pingjin remained silent.

“Zhouzi?”

Zhao Pingjin suppressed a cough rising in his throat, “Is it over?”

Gao Jiyi let out a carefree laugh, “What do you think?”

His voice became even more smug: “Zhou Zhou, do you really think you can protect her? As long as she’s still in this business, it’s only a matter of time before she falls into my hands.”

Zhao Pingjin closed his eyes and lay back in his chair, pressing his hand against his brow.

Gao Jiyi only heard Zhao Pingjin pause for a few seconds, followed by a slow, mocking laugh. The voice still carried its usual casualness, but it was particularly hoarse: “Old Gao, what does this have to do with me?”

From the moment Gao Jiyi knew Zhao Pingjin and Huang Xitang, he never thought they would end up together. For people like them, the kind of wife they were supposed to marry was already decided, and this matter was one he was sincerely considering for Zhao Pingjin’s benefit: “Zhouzi, have you seen many women? You don’t need to compete with me, buddy, I’m just venting.”

Zhao Pingjin simply replied, “I’ll talk to you about this later.”

He coughed lightly, and the call ended.

Zhao Pingjin accompanied Gao Jiyi on the sofa, looking at antiques. Shen Min got up, called the waiter in, and ordered food.

They had their meal, and after eating, Gao Jiyi had a card game to attend, and Fang Langxi had a meeting to go to. Zhao Pingjin did not keep anyone, and after everyone was full, they all got up.

Gao Jiyi was the first to say goodbye.

Afterwards, he got up to put on his coat. The shabby old vase was still quietly standing on the tea table.

Fang Langxi immediately said loudly, “Xiao Min, aren’t you going to move it to the car for Old Gao?”

Shen Min stepped over to the tea table, quickly wrapped it up, “Brother Gao, I’ll see you out.”

The two of them walked out of the west wing. Gao Jiyi put his arm around Shen Min’s shoulder, smiling as he asked, “Xiao Min, who took care of this matter?”

Shen Min said, “Don’t worry, I handled it myself.”

Gao Jiyi patted him on the shoulder: “Thank Zhouzi for me.”

Shen Min smiled, “This is nothing, bro. You’ve outdone us both. You always send good things to the old man. Yesterday, when I had dinner with Zhouzi, the old man even praised you for being filial.”

Gao Jiyi laughed heartily: “That’s because someone came to the old house a few days ago. I’ll mention it to my wife. I heard this year’s pomelo is especially good, exclusive for the province. I’ll bring two boxes with me later and send my regards to the old man.”

Gao Jiyi’s wife came from a prominent family in the southeastern province.

He continued, “The old lady is becoming more and more forgetful. The other day when I went over, she kept calling me Xiaojiang. You know, out of all the kids in our big courtyard, which one isn’t good to her? She only remembers Xiaojiang.”

Shen Min laughed, “Don’t mind her, the old lady stopped recognizing me a few years ago, only remembering my dad. She’s been gone for so many years now.”

Gao Jiyi lifted his leg and said, “Who wouldn’t be fond of Lu Xiaojiang? He’s been following Zhouzi around since he was little. If the old lady doesn’t recognize him, who else would she recognize? I’m not jealous anymore.”

Shen Min accompanied him toward the parking area of the courtyard, listening to his complaints. He understood that Zhao Pingjin and his childhood friends had been tied together for life. Naturally, their bond was deep, but with all the various interests intertwined, no one was entirely clean. No matter how capable Zhao Pingjin was, he couldn’t escape this small circle in Beijing.

People in their class understood that they held some real power, but there were always limitations between different systems and regions. So, how to handle relationships was a complex skill. Over the years, the exchange of power and interests between generations had created an intricate web of relationships.

Shen Min had seen enough. When they handled something, it often just took a word. As Zhao Pingjin put it, in Beijing, if you walked out in the morning for work and stood under the locust tree at the big courtyard’s entrance, looking down the alley, he felt at ease in body and mind.

The company’s call came when Xitang was in Taiyuan.

She had lost at the year-end awards ceremony, failing to win Best Actress, and had received several bitter articles from her rival’s company. Ni Kailun had aggressively secured jobs for her, and with a multitude of year-end event invitations, Xitang’s commercial activities had not stopped since early December.

The day before Christmas, she had just come out of the set and was immediately rushed to the airport in Hangzhou.

The plane landed at Taiyuan Wusu Airport, and Xitang was promptly taken for makeup and hair, attending the New Year’s event for the cosmetics brand she was endorsing that night.

After midnight that evening, Ni Kailun’s assistant, Amy, urgently called her assistant’s phone: “You two need to come back first thing tomorrow morning. Director Tang wants her to go for a screen test.”

When A Kuan received the call, he was buying pork intestine noodles at a snack street near the hotel. After hanging up, he grabbed two bags of noodles and a skewer of lamb kebabs and ran out. The street was freezing cold at this hour, but the brightly lit night stalls were still full of young men and women drinking beer together. A Kuan rushed into the hotel room, panting, where Xitang was lying on the bed with a face mask on, almost asleep. A Kuan yelled in exasperation, “Get up!”

Xi Tang jolted awake in fright. A moment later, her next-door colleague knocked on the door and handed her a piece of paper: “Karen just sent this over.” It was a page from Tang Yasong’s script. Xi Tang asked in a low voice, “Isn’t there a confidentiality agreement?” “There is,” her colleague replied, “but Karen said she couldn’t care less anymore. I haven’t read it, don’t worry.” The next morning, the entire team sent by the company caught the earliest flight back to Shanghai.