NMBJ2 - 39

In autumn, after being idle for months, Huang Xitang accepted a role in Lin Yongchuan’s stage play The Last Night of This World at an extremely low price. Ni Kailun signed the contract for her. Afterward, Kailun rolled her eyes and teased Xitang: “With this much free time, you might as well sleep more.” But Xitang paid no heed to Ni Kailun’s sarcastic remarks. This was her first collaboration with Director Lin Yongchuan since graduation and her first opportunity to perform in a stage play. Having gone so long without acting, her desire to perform had grown intense. She was both excited and nervous. She rehearsed three days a week at the cultural troupe’s rehearsal hall near Gulou Street.

Her stepmother was exceptionally considerate. After Xitang’s second visit, her stepmother showed her a room specially prepared for her. Xitang understood this was likely her father’s idea. Her brother, resentful of their father Jing Boshí divorcing his mother to marry the housekeeper, refused to return home despite being stationed abroad. The woman now managing the household wasn’t easy either. She had three children from her previous marriage living in Taiyuan but carefully tried to please her current husband’s children. Though Xitang declined the invitation to stay, she continued to visit her grandparents whenever she was in Beijing, staying at the company’s hotel instead.

During that period, Huang Xitang stayed in Beijing for a while. 

Li Shu’an often invited her to dinner. Despite his busy schedule, he would adjust his timing to accommodate her rehearsal hours. Sometimes they wouldn’t sit down to eat until eight or nine in the evening. Once, he had arranged to meet her but was suddenly called back to a meeting at the ministry. Xitang, busy rehearsing, didn’t answer his call. When she stepped outside later, she found his secretary still waiting outside the theater just to personally explain the situation to her. 

Occasionally, Xitang would visit Guosheng Hutong. The Qian household was experiencing a streak of joyful events. Lu Xiaojiang and Qian Xiyang’s newborn son had been brought back from the U.S., and Qian Donglin was preparing for his wedding. The families’ children were childhood friends, so every banquet inevitably included an invitation for Zhao Pingjin. Xitang had seen him a couple of times, though rarely. He was busy, and everyone knew about the tension between him and Lu Xiaojiang. Whenever Lu Xiaojiang was present, Zhao Pingjin usually avoided attending. Whether this was due to his dislike for Lu Xiaojiang or to avoid any awkwardness with Xitang, she couldn’t be sure. 

The circle in Beijing was small, and Xitang knew that Li Shu’an might have heard about her and Zhao Pingjin’s past. But since she never mentioned it, he never asked, sparing her any discomfort. 

When young, love was fiery and intense, but the knives wielded in those relationships often wounded deeply, leaving both parties bloodied and yearning for the other to truly understand their pain. Now, with a weary yet calm heart, Xitang realized how precious such thoughtfulness was. 

One evening at Guosheng Hutong, Xitang happened to come by to pick up some traditional Chinese medicine. She was detained by little Xinxin, who begged her to help with a craft project. Around eight o’clock, Zhao Pingjin arrived. Seeing Lu Xiaojiang inside, he handed a bag to the Qian family’s housekeeper, patted Qian Donglin on the shoulder, and said, “Something urgent has come up at home. I won’t stay.” 

Qian Donglin stood up. “Come on, no matter how big the issue is, you can settle it after dinner.” 

Zhao Pingjin smiled faintly without responding and turned to leave. No one dared to stop him. 

At that moment, Huang Xitang leaned back slightly from her chair, glanced at Qian Donglin and Zhao Pingjin, and softly said, “Since you’re both here, why not sit for a while?” 

Zhao Pingjin froze in his tracks. 

Seizing the opportunity, Qian Donglin pulled him back. 

After that incident, Zhao Pingjin finally stopped openly antagonizing Lu Xiaojiang. The camaraderie among the childhood friends in Beijing was somewhat restored. 

The Zhao family was known for its impeccable etiquette. The next day, Li Shu’an and Qian Donglin took Xitang to dine at the Zhao residence. Zhou Laoshi happened to be home. Li Shu’an introduced Xitang: “This is Jing’s second daughter, Xitang, and also Zhouzi’s mother.” 

Xitang bowed lightly and greeted, “Auntie, nice to meet you.” 

Zhou Laoshi stood at the entrance of the living room, glanced at Xitang as if she were any ordinary friend of the family, and warmly invited her in: “Come in and sit.” 

Shen Min emerged from the house and was startled to see Xitang standing before Zhou Laoshi. Then he noticed Li Shu’an standing attentively beside her. Feeling uneasy, Shen Min could only politely say, “Brother Shu’an, Zhouzi is inside.” 

In the dining room on the first floor of the Zhao residence, the men’s laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses. 

Xitang noticed that Zhao Pingjin ate very little. 

Initially, she assumed it was due to the nature of external engagements. She knew he always ate sparingly during business dinners, where discussions were significant, and a misstep could easily lead to errors. Hence, his focus was elsewhere, leaving little room for eating. However, even during these recent gatherings at his own home, where he appeared relaxed, talkative, and seemingly content, he still consumed very little food. After eating to about sixty percent full, Xitang consciously stopped. Leaning on the table, she listened to their lively conversations. Occasionally, she glanced quickly, seeing the man sitting upright and elegantly, his pale, slender face slightly shadowed. He wasn’t drinking alcohol, only sipping on a warm cup of tea. 

The day before Qian Donglin’s wedding banquet, he hosted a dinner at home for his groomsmen and childhood friends. Xitang accompanied Li Shu’an, helping to entertain guests. Zhao Pingjin arrived after work, wearing a white shirt with light brown checks, sleeves rolled up, and a navy silk tie. Xitang calmly controlled her gaze, avoiding looking in his direction. 

Suddenly, her arm was shaken. Little Xinxin beside her said, “Auntie Xitang, I want water.” 

The girl refused to drink from a glass, insisting on her pink mug. So Xitang stood up to find her requested Hello Kitty mug. After searching, she discovered it placed on the top shelf of a cabinet. Standing on a stool, she reached for the mug. Li Shu’an, who had just fetched a bottle opener from the kitchen, hurried over upon seeing this. “Let me get it. Your hand isn’t well; be careful not to fall.” 

Li Shu’an retrieved the mug and handed it to Xitang. 

Everyone at the table witnessed this scene. Qian Donglin, aware of Li Shu’an’s feelings, joked from the side, “It seems our second sister is about to marry into our family.” 

Lu Xiaojiang suddenly raised his head, glancing at Xitang. His face turned pale, and his lips trembled slightly. 

That night, Xitang had a recording session at nine. She left the gathering around seven. Li Shu’an handed her the car keys and bag. “Shall I drive you there?” 

Xitang smiled. “I can go by myself.” 

At that moment, Xinxin called loudly from inside the house, “Daddy!” Xitang waved to him and walked out. “Your daughter is calling you. Hurry back.” 

Lu Xiaojiang saw Li Shu’an return, pushed his chair back, and quietly slipped out. Huang Xitang was reversing her car at the entrance of the hutong. 

Lu Xiaojiang approached her car, and Xitang lowered the window. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Xitang, are you really planning to be with my uncle?” Lu Xiaojiang’s expression showed concern. 

“That’s my own business,” Huang Xitang replied indifferently. She reapplied her makeup in the car. From Lu Xiaojiang’s perspective, the young actress inside had a long, snow-white neck, her hair casually tucked behind her ears, a diamond earring subtly flashing against her jet-black hair, accentuating her porcelain skin and crimson lips. She seemed like a completely different person from the girl they once knew years ago. 

Lu Xiaojiang’s face showed urgency, but his words faltered. “You and Zhouzhou... You don’t know, he...” 

Huang Xitang’s mind suddenly jolted, cutting him off sharply. Her voice was urgent and fierce. “Did you tell him?” 

Lu Xiaojiang’s expression froze. 

Xitang looked at him and immediately understood everything. A wave of despairing anger surged within her, yet there was nowhere to vent it. She gritted her teeth and let out a cold laugh. “Why didn’t you just keep it from him forever? At least then he wouldn’t have suffered as much.” 

Lu Xiaojiang hung his head in shame. “Xitang, I’m sorry.” 

Xitang felt something inside her shatter irreparably. Her anger slowly crumbled, replaced by an unexpected sense of resignation. At this point, pursuing blame served no purpose. 

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she abruptly turned her head, staring straight ahead with an exceptionally cold expression. “Xiaojiang, that was the best relationship of my life. It’s ruined now. The words ‘I’m sorry’ are far too light.” 

Lu Xiaojiang continued to speak urgently beside her. 

“Lu Xiaojiang,” Xitang turned the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator, “That’s enough.” 

Lu Xiaojiang turned his head and saw the man standing at the entrance. 

Zhao Pingjin stood at the gate of the quadrangle courtyard, his face pale and icy, motionless, staring at him as if gazing at a monstrous figure. 

The stage play The Last Night of This World began its national tour on the first day of the Mid-Autumn Festival holiday, starting with its premiere in Beijing. Ah Kuan returned to serve as Huang Xitang’s assistant. That night, after the celebratory banquet, Xitang saw a bunch of orange-red flowers in her car. The slender stems were wrapped in newspaper, revealing several fleshy petals. Among the branches, tiny red berries had formed. Fans and admirers often sent flowers to public events or performances, but artists rarely took them home. However, Ah Kuan specifically chose this bouquet and placed it on the backseat of her car. 

Ah Kuan remembered these flowers. They last appeared on the night Xitang won her first film award for Spring Delay.

Xitang got into the car, glanced indifferently at the bouquet of flowers, and said nothing. When she returned to the hotel and stepped out of the car, Ah Kuan helped her gather her things and asked, “What about these flowers?”

Xitang paused for a moment, not turning back. After a long silence, she finally said, “You handle them.”