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Although Xiang Ge had tried her best to conceal her injured arm, Gong Mo still discovered it. That night, as expected, she received a demonic roar from the great demon king Song Zhi.
The man first unleashed a torrent of verbal abuse over the phone, then dropped the harsh ultimatum: “Xiang Ge, if you’d injured your face, just get the hell out of Global Entertainment.”
Xiang Ge shrank back slightly, tilting her head to hold the phone between her shoulder while trimming her fingernails on the coffee table. Her sincere apologies were accompanied by the crisp, faint sounds of clipping.
After a few seconds of silence, Song Zhi suddenly asked in an emotionless tone: “Are you trimming your fingernails?”
“…”
Startled, Xiang Ge’s hand trembled, nearly cutting into the flesh near her nail.
Are you fucking Erlang Shen or have superhuman hearing?
A week after finishing the SINGO cover shoot, the agent Song Zhi had arranged for her arrived with remarkable efficiency. That afternoon, Boss Song summoned her to his office.
After introducing the agent who would now handle all her affairs, the man scrutinized her up and down for three minutes before finally asking: “Do you know Fu Rongsen?”
Xiang Ge thought for a long time, then looked at him sincerely: “Who is Fu Rongsen?”
“The young Mr. Fu of the Z family. You walked in their spring-summer collection show.”
The Z family’s spring-summer fashion show was where she had twisted her ankle and met Zhou Xingyan. Though not much time had passed since then, the subsequent events made it feel like it had happened ages ago.
Xiang Ge’s mind rewound like a movie, and she remembered—the guy who reeked of cologne.
She nodded, “We’ve met once.”
Song Zhi narrowed his eyes, waving her off dismissively, too lazy to deal with her: “Go check your emails.”
With a puzzled expression, Xiang Ge prepared to leave but was called back.
Standing at the door, she turned around. Song Zhi looked at her meaningfully: “Fu Rongsen has a lot of flashy collars. Don’t cause any trouble for me during your rise.”
Xiang Ge left in utter confusion.
As she walked toward the studio, there were only a few steps left when she saw Qiao Xin emerge from the restroom nearby. Spotting her, Qiao Xin called out with a bright smile.
Xiang Ge turned around, seeing the girl enthusiastically waving at her, and couldn’t help but smile back.
The little girl was so adorable—it was hard not to like her.
She stood still, waiting for her to run over. However, just then, a group of people emerged from the makeup room at the other end of the corridor.
Xu Yiqi led the group, her smile gentle and warm. Seeing Xiang Ge and Qiao Xin standing there, her smile became even more radiant.
She strolled over, arms crossed, smiling brightly: “I heard you shot the cover for SINGO . Congratulations.”
Xiang Ge raised an eyebrow, glancing at her indifferently, unwilling to engage.
Xu Yiqi’s smile didn’t falter: “Though it’s just a magazine cover with a relatively small audience, it’s a big step for you. Keep it up.”
Xiang Ge narrowed her eyes, unsure where this sudden air of superiority came from.
It wasn’t until she returned home that evening and saw the email sent by her agent that Xiang Ge finally understood what Song Zhi had meant earlier that day.
Scrolling further down, she also understood why Xu Yiqi had been unable to hide her smugness and disdain.
The email contained information about the selection process for Z’s fall new series endorsement.
Since Fu Rongsen took charge of the Chinese market for Z, the brand’s direction and strategy had become somewhat unpredictable.
For example, in recent years, they completely abandoned the fixed model of using supermodels and celebrities for endorsements. Instead, they conducted open selections regardless of experience—anyone who passed his criteria, regardless of field or how new they were, could be chosen.
Global Entertainment’s modeling department had three spots this time, and she was one of the names personally selected by Fu Rongsen.
One of the other two candidates was Xu Yiqi.
Xiang Ge recalled Fu Rongsen’s overwhelming scent of cologne and his shiny polished shoes, feeling a headache coming on.
In the kitchen, Xia Wei and Gong Mo were preparing dinner. Xiang Ge sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, pushing her laptop forward, leaning back against the sofa, and groaning loudly.
Xia Wei peeked over and ladled out a small bowl of pig’s trotter soup from the pot. She walked over, blew on a spoonful, and held it up to her: “Here, little pigeon, ah—”
Xiang Ge obediently opened her mouth and drank it.
“Good?”
Xiang Ge nodded: “What kind of soup is this?”
“Pig’s trotter soup. It has significant breast-enhancing effects.”
“…”
Xiang Ge instantly went expressionless: “You might as well make silver ear fungus, papaya, and milk pudding instead. At least it can pass as dessert.”
Xia Wei placed the bowl on the coffee table: “Why don’t you see a doctor? Problems need to be addressed at the root.”
“I’ve had dysmenorrhea for nearly ten years. I don’t believe some quack’s herbal medicine will fix it.”
“…That doctor is a very famous traditional Chinese medicine practitioner, respected in the medical community. After retirement, he opened his own clinic, and he doesn’t treat just anyone.”
Xiang Ge paused, gripping the spoon with her fingers, raising an eyebrow with a smile: “Do you think I believed that?”
The next day, on the way to the clinic in Xia Wei’s car, Xiang Ge felt uneasy, frowning as she stared at the road ahead: “Will he tell me to avoid cold foods and such?”
“No, he won’t.” Having finally managed to get her here, Xia Wei was afraid she might run away halfway, so she lied through her teeth.
The clinic was located a bit far, near the suburbs. The drive took over an hour. Xia Wei drove quickly, arriving just after ten in the morning.
It was a rather inconspicuous courtyard, surrounded by grayish-blue walls, with a half-open wooden gate. The two got out of the car, and Xia Wei pushed the gate open.
Xiang Ge followed her inside and exclaimed “Wow” as soon as she looked up.
The courtyard was ancient and elegant, with a rectangular pond beneath the open sky. The water surface shimmered with leafy reflections, and the long stone flower racks were filled with unidentifiable green plants.
Xiang Ge quickened her pace, leaning close to Xia Wei’s ear: “We should’ve worn Hanfu today. We could take some photos and send them to Little Jasmine, telling her I’ve time-traveled and am no longer in this dimension, so I can’t work anymore.”
Xia Wei rolled her eyes, ignoring her, and walked into the central room.
Inside, a man sat with his back to the door, wearing a white shirt. His shoulders were broad, his back straight, like a stalk of green bamboo.
Xiang Ge froze momentarily.
Hearing someone enter, the man turned around, lifting his gaze to look at the two standing at the door.
Due to the backlight, he squinted slightly. Upon recognizing them, a fleeting look of surprise flashed in his dark eyes.
Xia Wei also saw the person sitting inside. Recognizing the young doctor her friend had been obsessing over, she hesitated briefly, then quietly retreated, closing the door behind her.
Xiang Ge blinked, slowly walking over and taking a seat opposite him.
This was the first time she had seen him outside of a hospital.
Xiang Ge shamelessly examined him, her gaze sliding along his nose, lips, and the wooden buttons of his white shirt. The buttons were intricately carved, fastened meticulously up to the second-to-last one, exuding an intense sense of restraint.
It made her fingers itch—she wanted to unbutton each one, peel away his outer layer, and reveal his true self. She wanted to strip away his cold exterior and see what he was really like.
Lost in these impure thoughts, Xiang Ge sat on the chair, a mischievous smile curling her lips: “Dr. Zhou, what a coincidence.”
Zhou Xingyan’s expression remained unchanged.
Xiang Ge didn’t care. By now, countless scenarios of teasing him had already played out in her mind.
She slowly stretched her long legs, then tucked them in slightly, bending her knees and crossing them.
Her toes hooked, and her high heels slipped down, dangling precariously from her pale feet, swaying with her movements.
Leaning forward slightly, a playful smile on her lips, she gazed into his eyes, licking her lips as she prepared to speak—
Zhou Xingyan interrupted: “You’re here for treatment?”
Xiang Ge’s tongue froze mid-lick, and she suddenly fell silent.
It was as if someone had pressed a pause button. All her actions stopped abruptly, and her previously flirtatious expressions and subtle movements vanished.
She suddenly remembered why she was here.
The woman’s previously flowing gaze instantly froze. Her foot stopped swaying, and her toes relaxed, causing the high heel to drop with a “clack” onto the floor.
Xiang Ge opened her mouth, then closed it. Her bare foot, still crossed, curled her toes nervously. Her ears felt hot.
Embarrassed, Dr. Zhou—I’m here for gynecological issues. I have irregular periods, dysmenorrhea, and my development seems delayed. At twenty-three, I’m still flat-chested.
Such words were impossible to say, no matter what. She would die before uttering them.
Her throat tightened as she looked at him, speechless.
Zhou Xingyan wasn’t in a rush, casually raising his eyelashes to wait. When she remained silent for a long time, he simply stood up and walked to the bookshelf, pulling out something.
While his back was turned, Xiang Ge hastily slipped her fallen high heel back on, adjusting her posture and facial expression, thinking of some random illness to bluff her way through.
Before she could come up with anything, Zhou Xingyan, still facing away, spoke first.
The man held a notebook, lowering his head to read her appointment details. His voice was cold, low, and deliberately slowed, each word clearly reaching Xiang Ge’s ears: “Ten o’clock in the morning, one patient, female.”
Xiang Ge stiffened all over.
“Main symptoms: irregular menstruation, menstrual pain, delayed development—” He turned around, paused, and continued:
“Name: Xiang Ge.”
“…”
Xiang Ge despairingly closed her eyes.
Author’s Note:
Xiang Ge: Just kill me.