NMBJ2 - 44

Two weeks after Huang Xitang’s appearance on Friends of Songxue, the episode aired on television. Shortly after, more good news came—her espionage drama Shadows Over Shanghai, which had been shelved for over a year, was finally scheduled for release. Emboldened producers began sending scripts to her company again. After winter set in, she returned to Hengdian for work, occasionally flying back to Beijing during breaks.

On one of her rest days, which happened to be a weekend, she took Xinxin to a toy store to buy balloons. On their way back, it started pouring rain. Winter had come early this year; by late October, a cold wave had already hit. Fortunately, the rain eased up as they returned. Xitang parked at the entrance of the hutong, helped Xinxin put on her down jacket, and lifted her out of the car. The little girl clutched her colorful balloons tightly. Xitang opened an umbrella, but the balloons floated above it, swaying in the drizzle. Laughing, Xitang held the little girl’s hand while Xinxin clung to her balloons, and they walked home together. As they entered the hutong, Xitang noticed the door of the Zhao family’s residence across from Guosheng Hutong open.

Zhao Pingjin emerged, impeccably dressed in a white fine-checked shirt, brown tie, and gray-blue suit jacket—a formal ensemble fit for a banquet. His driver stood under the eaves, holding a black long-handled umbrella.

For a moment, both were stunned.

The little girl, always polite, noticed Xitang stop and immediately called out brightly, “Uncle Zhao!”

Zhao Pingjin smiled faintly. “Xinxin, even in elementary school, your teachers still give you balloons as rewards?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously, proudly replying, “No, Auntie Xitang bought these for me!”

Zhao Pingjin glanced at her. Raindrops were falling steadily on half of her shoulder as she held the umbrella for the child. He lowered his eyes slightly and said, “It’s raining. Hurry home.”

Xinxin waved at him. “Goodbye, Uncle Zhao!”

---

That night, when Fang Langmei returned home, Qingqing was watching TV in the living room. Seeing him enter, she took his coat and hung it up. Fang Langmei kissed her and asked, “Where’s our son?”

“He’s asleep.”

Fang Langmei sat down on the sofa. On the opposite wall, the TV was broadcasting Jiang Songxue’s talk show.

Qingqing watched Xitang on the screen and asked her husband, “Did Zhouzi go today?”

Fang Langmei nodded. “He stayed for a bit and left early. Everyone’s used to it now. He rarely attends events personally these days. If he comes, it’s just to show support. If he’s in a good mood, he might stay longer; if not, he leaves early to rest.”

Qingqing asked, “Is his health any better?”

Fang Langmei shrugged. “Not sure. Seems the same as always.”

Qingqing fell silent, focusing on the program.

On TV, Huang Xitang wore a red off-the-shoulder top and light blue jeans. Her skin glowed luminously under the studio lights, her smile serene and gentle. “I haven’t dated anyone in years,” she said softly.

Jiang Songxue smiled. “When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

Xitang thought carefully. “Two years? Three? I’ve lost count.”

Jiang Songxue simply smiled.

For celebrities, merely appearing on such shows wasn’t enough unless they were exceptionally aloof or dazzling. Without providing some provocative or newsworthy answers, the media would struggle to write stories, and the program’s ratings would suffer. Both host and guest knew this unspoken rule. Xitang continued, looking into the camera: “My life is peaceful now. I work, eat, relax, travel abroad, and sometimes meet people. We even shake hands politely. Our lives have changed so much. Some things, once gone, are truly gone.”

Jiang Songxue nodded attentively. “Mm.”

Xitang smiled faintly. “I remember one New Year’s Eve after finishing a gala performance. It was past one in the morning when we returned to the hotel. Everyone was exhausted, the lights were off, yet no one could sleep. The room was utterly quiet. My assistant sat on the carpet by the bed, playing music softly on her phone. At that moment, a love song came on. Even after all these years, there are moments when I still think of someone.”

Since they were recording, Jiang Songxue kept her smile restrained, though inwardly she was thrilled. She knew exactly whom Xitang was referring to. Subtly, she hinted, “If you still think of them, have you ever considered… trying again?”

“Oh no, what’s there to try?” Xitang quickly deflected with a laugh.

“Don’t pretend,” Jiang Songxue leaned over and poked her arm, giving her a playful glare. “Try your ex again.”

Xitang playfully shook her hand, and both women laughed on the couch.

Xitang shook her head. “I don’t dare think about it.”

Jiang Songxue asked meaningfully, “Do you hold onto the past because you haven’t met someone better?”

Xitang immediately shook her head, still smiling softly, her expression calm and resolute. “No, that wouldn’t be fair. There are many excellent people out there. But love is rare. Of course, I still hope for happiness. I’m just no longer obsessed with pursuing love.”

Jiang Songxue looked at her, surprised. “Xitang, isn’t that a bit pessimistic?”

Xitang thought for a long moment before speaking, her voice soft and delicate: “I don’t know if it’s pessimistic. I still believe some people find love and live happily. But it doesn’t happen to everyone. It has nothing to do with your profession, looks, wealth, or how hard you work. Love is a matter of luck—it’s not something you can achieve through effort.”

Xitang grinned mischievously, her tone carefree. “As a Hong Kong writer I admire once said, love is an encounter. After all these years, I completely agree. Love is an opportunity, not a reward. All we can do is try our best.”

At that moment, Jiang Songxue turned her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

Just as the show reached its most poignant moment, the broadcast abruptly cut to a commercial break.

Fang Langmei sat silently for a while, then sighed deeply.

Qingqing muttered bitterly, “Look at what you men have done.”

Fang Langmei pulled her close, knowing she pitied Zhouzi. By now, the entire circle in Beijing tacitly understood: whenever there was an important occasion, Li Shu’an would bring Xitang along as his guest. She was a celebrity, unforgettable to those who met her. Li Shu’an’s daughter from his previous marriage adored her, and his intentions were clear—they were heading toward marriage. As for Zhao Pingjin and Huang Xitang, that chapter was thoroughly closed. In the past, Qingqing dared to argue with him on Xitang’s behalf, but now, no one dared mention Huang Xitang in front of Zhao Pingjin.

The recording paused for five minutes that day.

Jiang Songxue’s eyes shimmered with tears, and the audience began to applaud. But everyone backstage—the directors, producers, and cameramen—was stunned.

Seeing no one move, not even her assistant or makeup artist, Xitang reached across the sofa and gently patted Jiang Songxue’s shoulder.

At the end of the program, Jiang Songxue asked, “Would you sing a song?”

Xitang laughed heartily. “I’m an actress, not a singer.”

Jiang Songxue encouraged her warmly. “But didn’t you recently take vocal lessons? Come on, give it a try.”

Xitang understood this was Jiang Songxue’s way of giving her a platform. After a moment’s thought, she said, “A classmate from our undergraduate acting program passed away last month.”

Jiang Songxue’s smile faded. “Fu Mingkun.”

Xitang smiled faintly, controlling her emotions. “This was a song we sang together in school. I dedicate it to him.”

She sang The Proverb of Love.