NMBJ2 - 21

Yesterday, experts from Beijing came for a consultation and took away all of her mother’s medical records. The attending physician told her, “She’ll be discharged soon.”

After this illness, her mother started to share things she had never mentioned before.

In the hospital room, her mother said to her, “The deed to the house in Xianju is in the safe at home. That house has been there for decades. Whether you rent it out or sell it in the future, do whatever is convenient for you.”

Xitang slowly lifted her head, and tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. She knew what her mother was doing—she was preparing her final arrangements.

Her mother kissed her hand. Her daughter’s hands were still the same as when she was little: small and fair. “You brought Mom to Shanghai to live, and Mom is very happy. But you’re too busy with work.”

Xitang quickly said, “Mom, I’ll spend more time with you from now on.”

Her mother waved her hand and said, “Miss Ni also told me that you have many job opportunities now. Mom will fully support you. Good girl, I’m not worried about your career. What I’m worried about is that in the future, no one will look after your personal life, and you might miss your chance.”

Xitang couldn’t emotionally accept such a conversation. She pouted, looking like she was about to cry but held back. “Mom, what nonsense are you talking about?”

Her mother said to her, “If you ever reach the point of discussing marriage, you must tell the other person about the surgeries you’ve had. Don’t hide it from them.”

Her mother pinched her puffed-up cheeks, saying, “Don’t blame fate. Be patient. Someone who treasures you will come along.”

“Uncle Qiu came by last time. He mentioned that his granddaughter wants to apply to a dance academy in Shanghai. The young girl likes you and hopes you can recommend a teacher for her entrance exam.”

Xitang agreed.

She knew Uncle Qiu had visited her mother.

At that time, she was in Beijing filming. The caregiver told her that Uncle Qiu sat in the hospital room for an entire afternoon, left some fruit, and then went back.

Traveling back and forth between Hangzhou and Shanghai, and at seventy years old, it wasn’t easy for him.

She heard that his wife, who was five years older than him, had passed away the year before.

Xitang remembered that when she was little and didn’t understand much, she liked Uncle Qiu a lot. He used to carry her around the house. His middle-aged arms were strong and steady. When she was in elementary school, Uncle Qiu gave her a pink Mickey Mouse backpack, which she carried until third grade. By then, the straps were worn out.

Her mother was always concerned about her future. One afternoon, she brought it up again.

“I’m not saying it has to be Dr. Xie. I just hope you marry into a good family.”

“There will always be good people out there.”

“I know you’re a good girl. You and Miss Ni are good friends. You should support each other.”

While peeling an apple for her mother, Xitang interjected, “Karen doesn’t plan to get married. She’s a staunch non-marriage advocate.”

“Married or not, everyone needs a companion. Mom is worried you’ll be lonely.”

“As long as you like the person, it doesn’t matter if they’ve been married before or if they have children. But you have to listen to Mom—the man must have a clean background, and the marriage must be legitimate.”

Xitang nodded obediently and replied seriously, “Okay.”

Dr. Xie Zhenbang often came by the hospital room.

Each time, Xitang asked, “Is there any chance my mom could get a transplant?”

Every time, Xie Zhenbang answered apologetically, “Her condition is stable for now. Don’t worry too much.”

Whenever this topic came up, Xitang’s eyes would fill with tears.

She worked tirelessly to earn money, just so her mother could live comfortably.

She already had enough money.

The only uncertainty was how long her mother could wait.

In autumn in Beijing, the mountain’s maple and ginkgo trees glowed golden, and the wild jujubes in the valleys ripened, hanging fresh and red on the branches.

Gao Jiyi parked his car at the halfway parking lot on Shijingshan Road. As soon as he got out, he saw Zhao Pingjin’s car arrive as well.

Gao Jiyi waited for him to park, then walked over and knocked on his car door. “Zhouzi.”

Zhao Pingjin saw him, got out, and asked, “Which hall?”

Gao Jiyi took out a cigarette and held it between his lips. “The East Hall, I think.”

The two walked side by side toward the memorial hall. Along the way, there were many guests in black formal attire with solemn expressions. Gao Jiyi lowered his voice, “Where have you been lately? You’re like a dragon—always elusive.”

Last month, Zhongyuan Group held a board meeting, and the party secretary position was up for re-election. During this time, Zhao Pingjin had fewer social engagements. Other than work, he was hardly seen, even by Gao Jiyi and the others.

In the past, the group of them would get together every weekend or holiday. But now, Fang Langming was busy with his kids, Zhao Pingjin avoided Lu Xiaojiang, and the group hadn’t gathered for a long time.

Zhao Pingjin answered slowly, “Where else would I be? Working like a slave every day.”

Neither of them was in high spirits that day.

They were no strangers to Shijingshan District, but most of their visits were for solemn mourning ceremonies—honoring accomplished elders who had passed, whose ashes were later interred in the nearby Martyrs’ Cemetery. These occasions were part of their lives growing up.

But today’s visit wasn’t for work. Zhao Pingjin wasn’t in a good mood. The last time he came here was for his uncle’s funeral, just over two years ago.

Now, it was for a childhood friend. Cancer had taken him at just forty years old. The deceased had been Zhao Pindong’s middle school sweetheart and a classmate of Gao Jiyi and Fang Langming. Zhao Pindong even called from overseas, insisting that Zhao Pingjin attend the service to bid farewell on her behalf.

Zhao Pingjin bowed in front of the casket, lit incense, and expressed his condolences to the grieving parents. Then he left the hall.

In the funeral home corridor, many former classmates approached him to chat.

He avoided them all, with his secretary stepping in to block anyone who tried.

Gao Jiyi joined him outside by the car to smoke.

“The company dissolved, leaving a bit over a million. Most of it went to pay the employees’ salaries.”

“Once someone’s gone, everything becomes meaningless. Nothing matters anymore.”

“Our group from that year had around thirty people who went abroad, scattered all over the world.”

“Those who stayed in Beijing—two or three have already passed. Among those in their forties, over ten have been diagnosed with cancer. With this environment, it’s no wonder everyone’s emigrating.”

“Langming is coordinating a donation drive among the classmates to help the wife and kids.”

Zhao Pingjin, who had been frowning and quietly listening, finally said, “I have to go on a business trip tomorrow. I’ll have Xiao Min send some money over later.”

“You’ve gotten promoted, and now we never see you anymore. Mr. Zhao, the chairman.”

“Cut it out. Stop teasing me.”

Gao Jiyi half-jokingly said, “I mean it. This time, you’ve been ruthless—bloodless but ruthless. People outside are talking.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten anything done if I hadn’t acted. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be me being talked about outside today.”

“You’ve made too many enemies. Be careful, kid. Just saying... you think your father-in-law will ever accept you?”

Zhao Pingjin puffed on his cigarette, replying coolly, “I didn’t really do anything to him.”

Gao Jiyi tilted his head back, laughing heartily. “Kid, you’re something else. Hey, let me ask you: real power in hand now, huh? You’ve got half the board on your side, haven’t you?”

“You can’t put it like that.”

Gao Jiyi didn’t think much of it. The bond they had from growing up together was still there. At private occasions like today, Zhao Pingjin wasn’t meeting anyone except for Gao Jiyi and Lang Ming. But Gao Jiyi understood that Zhao Pingjin, now wielding immense authority, was no longer just the kid he used to hang out with. Outsiders’ perceptions of him had drastically shifted. “Last week, Lang Ming and his wife brought their kid over to my place for dinner. Didn’t see you there.”

Zhao Pingjin took a slow drag of his cigarette. “Next time, I’ll definitely come.”

Gao Jiyi gave him a sly look, clearly up to no good. “I heard about that little incident at the Marriott Hotel.”

Zhao Pingjin shot him a warning glare.

Gao Jiyi quickly changed the subject. “Alright, alright, I won’t talk about that. But this grudge between you and old Sun... it’s only getting deeper.”

“Sun Kehu’s attempt to present a ‘gift’ backfired, and the guy he was trying to impress ended up holding it against him instead. Now it’s said that Sun’s family is even less favored, and Sun Kehu got a severe beating from his father—nearly thrown out of the house.”

Zhao Pingjin leaned against the car, cigarette smoke swirling around him.

Gao Jiyi nudged his arm. “Word is, the higher-ups are investigating Sun’s faction.”

Zhao Pingjin flicked off the ash from his cigarette, replying evenly, “I’ve heard that too.”

Gao Jiyi, ever loyal, offered, “How about we take care of him now? I’ve wanted to do it for a while.”

Zhao Pingjin turned, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Let me think it over.”

His assistant came over to urge him to leave.

Zhao Pingjin said, “I’m heading out. Let Lang Ming know for me.”

Gao Jiyi nodded. “Alright, take care!”

The Huaying Building in Beijing, located in Xicheng District’s Xinfengli, was a white, cube-shaped office building. Within its towering walls was a globally renowned sound post-production center, equipped with the best recording facilities in Asia and offering top-tier post-production services for films. It was here that Huang Xitang was recording dubbing for the movie Spring Delayed.

The film’s creative team and sound directors were all present in the studio. It had been a year and eight months since the first full-team meeting in Beijing, yet everyone remained meticulous and professional.

Huang Xitang had been working in this building for an entire week. Immersed in the role, she avoided any distractions. She arrived at the studio every morning at nine, recorded until the day’s work was complete, and rested afterward. If things didn’t go smoothly, she would repeat takes over and over, sometimes working late into the night or early morning before returning to the hotel to rest, only to resume the next morning.

Her only form of relaxation was occasionally having coffee with fellow actors or colleagues downstairs during breaks.

During one such coffee break, a fellow actor from the production asked her, “Xiye, what’s next for you? Another drama or a movie?”

Huang Xitang smiled and replied, “I’m planning to take a break for a while.”

She had already told Ni Kailun that after finishing work on Spring Delayed, she would take some time off to spend with her mother.

After finishing the dubbing work for the film, the day before leaving Beijing, Huang Xitang went to Jiuhua Mountain Cemetery to visit Zhong Qiao’er’s grave, coinciding with her birthday.

A bouquet of vibrant red roses lay on her grave.

It was unclear who had left them.

That night, standing at the edge of life and death, Xitang finally understood Zhong Qiao’er and the helplessness she must have felt back then.

Had Xitang not walked out of that hotel suite that fateful night, she might not have had the courage to face everything Zhong Qiao’er endured.

Sitting on the steps in front of the tombstone, Xitang watched the autumn wind rustle through the desolate grass. At that moment, she forgave Zhong Qiao’er for her disregard for life.

In the distance, Xitang’s bodyguard and assistant stood motionless on the main path of the cemetery, his eyes never leaving her.

She realized she was walking further and further down this path, with no way to turn back.

In October that year, the filming of Spring Delayed wrapped up. After returning to Shanghai, Huang Xitang had dinner with Dr. Xie.

That evening, she opened up to him about many things—about herself, about the entertainment industry. Although they had been dating for nearly a year, their meetings had been sporadic and brief. This was the first time she had shared such personal and in-depth matters with him.

She had become someone navigating a treacherous industry, a pawn of power and wealth, struggling to protect herself.

Few upright, honest young men would be willing to accept a female celebrity like her.

Dr. Xie listened intently for a long time. Finally, he said, “If I asked you to leave this place, to come with me to Singapore and get married—of course, bringing your mother along—would you consider it?”

His tone was sincere.

Huang Xitang remained silent for a long while before shaking her head. “I’ve already stepped into this world of fame and fortune. I never planned to turn back.”

She smiled at Dr. Xie, tears shimmering in her eyes. “So vain of me, isn’t it?”

Dr. Xie shook his head.

Tears streamed down her face. This was, so far, the best promise a man had ever offered her in her life.

But she couldn’t accept it.

Dr. Xie asked, “What can I do to help you?”

“If you don’t despise me, please continue being my friend,” she said.

Dr. Xie held her hand tightly. “Of course.”