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The next day, as soon as Xiang Ge arrived at the company, she was immediately summoned into Song Zhi’s office and mercilessly scolded.
The man was furious, his anger radiating from the top of his head to his chin. His cold eyes seemed to smolder with rage: “Xiang Ge, have you grown some backbone now?”
Xiang Ge stood obediently in front of his desk, her head bowed, saying nothing.
“What did I say yesterday? Didn’t I tell you to come back after the shoot? And you just went home? What’s this so-called urgent matter?” Song Zhi rapped his knuckles on the desk twice, glaring at her through gritted teeth. “Come on, big-name model Xiang, explain it to me now.”
Xiang Ge raised her head, honestly replying: “I went home to get a lunchbox.”
“…”
Song Zhi laughed bitterly.
His hand slid off the desk, and he leaned back into his chair, tilting his chin up to look at her: “Do you think I’m spending money to promote you, assigning people to support you, and giving you good resources just for fun? Do you think this is all a game?”
Xiang Ge lowered her head again.
Song Zhi ground his teeth as he stared at her.
When he first met this woman, he knew she would be difficult.
On the surface, she appeared to agree with everything you said, but deep down, she was incredibly stubborn. Once she decided to go east, no one could make her go west.
Yet, her external conditions were dazzling—her natural talent and charisma were extraordinary. Simply by standing there without uttering a word, she effortlessly commanded attention. She exuded an innate presence and camera appeal; the intensity in her brows and eyes seemed to glue people to her like superglue.
Things that required tenfold effort from others came easily to her.
That’s how unfair it was. Someone like her in this industry would find it hard not to rise to fame.
Song Zhi had initially planned to let her stew for a year, hoping to smooth out her sharp edges. However, he soon realized she simply didn’t care.
Whether shooting low-profile magazine spreads for a lifetime or being handed prestigious opportunities, it made no difference to her. She lacked ambition, competitiveness, and even the desire to become famous.
Assign her an interior page in a pet magazine, and she’d approach it with the same attitude as landing a coveted resource. In fact, she might prefer the former because communicating with cats and dogs was simpler and less exhausting than dealing with people.
Song Zhi sighed.
The woman still stood there, her head bowed, feigning fear while looking pitiful, which only made him want to sneer.
Her overly sincere apology left him with nowhere to vent his anger. Song Zhi felt more frustrated than ever.
He waved his hand dismissively, signaling her to leave.
Though outwardly compliant, Xiang Ge felt a bit guilty inside. This time, she truly had erred. She had assumed returning to the company after finishing with Z would give her enough time before heading home, never expecting it to drag on so long.
Thus, she diligently worked for two days straight, arriving early each morning and delivering a steaming cup of black coffee to Boss Song before entering the studio, showing signs of potentially switching careers to become a secretary.
But it lasted only two days.
On the third day, Xiang Ge yawned lazily, walking into the studio right on time. The makeup room door was slightly ajar, and voices of several girls could be heard from inside.
“She must be someone’s kept woman.”
“Definitely. Didn’t she upset Mr. Song the other day? She’s been groveling to make amends.”
“After all, she has a sugar daddy. That’s why she suddenly got all the good opportunities.”
“Mr. Song is handsome, young, and wealthy. She’s not losing out.”
Inside, the discussion was lively. Xiang Ge leaned against the wall by the door, finishing her yawn. Just as she was about to straighten up and enter, a familiar voice spoke up.
Qiao Xin’s voice was soft, as if afraid of something, yet urgent: “Don’t say that. Xiang Ge isn’t like that.”
“If she’s a kept woman, then so what? Why are there still lapdogs defending her reputation?” The first girl sneered. Xiang Ge recognized her as someone close to Xu Yiqi. “Qiao Xin, you’re such a fool, always fawning over her, calling her ‘Sister’ this and ‘Sister’ that. Has she ever acknowledged you? She’s busy with covers and endorsements now. What do you have? Will you spend your life shooting mediocre magazine pages?”
“And with your looks, even landing those pages is a stretch.” Someone else added.
The room erupted in laughter.
Xiang Ge instinctively straightened her back.
She narrowed her eyes, straightened herself, and pushed the door open.
The girls inside were laughing, Qiao Xin standing facing them, her head bowed, silent.
Hearing the door open, everyone turned to look, their expressions shifting to varying degrees of surprise and embarrassment.
Only Xu Yiqi stood at the back, arms crossed, leaning against the makeup counter, smiling sweetly and greeting her cheerfully: “Good morning.”
Xiang Ge glanced at her, then turned to look at Qiao Xin beside her.
The little girl bit her lip, her large, watery eyes gazing at her, the corners slightly red.
Upon seeing her, she couldn’t help but pout, then awkwardly lowered her lashes.
A pitiful sight.
Xiang Ge walked over and pulled the girl out by her arm.
She held her wrist and walked ahead, Qiao Xin silently following behind. They walked until the end of the corridor, where she finally released her and turned around.
The little girl kept her head bowed, still wearing her outfit—a shirt dress. The fabric was a bit worn but washed clean.
Xiang Ge vaguely knew that Qiao Xin’s family wasn’t well-off. Her mother lived alone, and she had a younger brother still in school, but she had never asked.
They stood facing each other for a long while before the girl finally raised her head. Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes were moist, the corners reddened.
“Xiang Ge, I’m not a fool,” her lashes trembled, blinking, tears pooling in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to follow you around. I just… like you. You’ve never mocked me, and I wanted to be kind to you. I know you’re not like what they say.” She stumbled over her words, her nose twitching. “I just want you to succeed, to become someone great. Then I’ll be happy, even if I keep shooting mediocre magazine pages. Xiang Ge, I’ll keep following you. Please don’t find me annoying, okay?”
Xiang Ge sighed, pulling the girl into her arms, patting her back gently: “Are you a bit foolish, little girl?”
Qiao Xin was shorter than her. Now, burying her head in Xiang Ge’s neck, she shook it slightly, a few tears dampening her skin, causing a slight itch.
“Let them say what they want. Why bother caring about their words?” Her voice softened, her pace slowing. “You’re good, don’t belittle yourself. You’ll become someone great in the future.”
Qiao Xin nuzzled closer, then lifted her head: “Xiang Ge, they said those things about you. Why aren’t you angry?”
“People should look forward, not constantly focus on what’s behind them. Their praise won’t increase the money in my pocket,” Xiang Ge blinked, teasingly poking the little dimple on the girl’s cheek. “And their insults won’t make them prettier than me.”
After comforting her, Qiao Xin patted her face, revitalized, and went to change her clothes. Xiang Ge stood still for a moment, then leaned against the window, pulling out her phone to text Zhou Xingyan: [Dr. Zhou.]
There was no reply.
Xiang Ge pouted, slipping her phone back into her pocket, and returned to the makeup room.
Zhou Xingyan was on duty today. During a brief break for water, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at it—a message from an unsaved number, three words: Dr. Zhou.
Zhou Xingyan didn’t reply, waiting for her next move.
But there was no follow-up.
All day, apart from that initial address, she hadn’t sent another word.
A faint shadow of gloom crept back into Dr. Zhou’s gradually brightening heart.
By evening, as he sat in his car after work, he retrieved his phone and replied: [What do you want?]
Instantly, she replied: [I almost got bent today.]
Zhou Xingyan raised an eyebrow.
This time, Xiang Ge didn’t wait for his reply, sending several messages in succession, treating SMS like instant messaging.
[+86187xxxxxx31: My first thought was to talk to you, to reaffirm my sexual orientation.]
[+86187xxxxxx31: I was afraid of disturbing your work, so I didn’t dare.]
[+86187xxxxxx31: When will Dr. Zhou be free? Let’s have dinner?]
She didn’t forget to add a reason—
[+86187xxxxxx31: If I don’t write my new book soon, I might starve.]
Zhou Xingyan rested his forehead against the steering wheel, suppressing a smile.
[+86187xxxxxx31: How about next Monday? I’ll pick you up after work.]
Xiang Ge continued confidently, as if she already knew his schedule perfectly.
Zhou Xingyan’s finger hovered over the screen, unmoving.
His eyelashes drooped low, covering his eyelids, concealing the murky emotions in his dark eyes.
After a long pause, he sighed deeply, surrendering.
Fine.
Since she had come back.
Since he couldn’t forget.
As the fiery evening clouds filled half the sky, within the quiet confines of his car, Zhou Xingyan raised his eyes and typed a single word:
[Okay.]
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