YJDNY - 55

The filming of Cocoon progressed faster than planned, wrapping up a week ahead of schedule. On the day of Bailu , as the weather turned cooler and the air grew heavier, Xiang Ge completed her final scene, officially marking the end of her summer as Shen Jing and her return to being Xiang Ge herself.

As the last scene concluded, the crew erupted in cheers, but Xiang Ge remained lost in thought.

It wasn’t until Bai Yuandao approached her, extending his hand, that she snapped out of it. “Can’t let go yet?”

Xiang Ge looked up, shaking her head. Her eyes stung slightly, but she blinked hard and tilted her head upward, gazing at the clear blue sky. “I’m just a little reluctant to say goodbye to her.”

Bai Yuandao chuckled and patted her shoulder. “You could’ve said you’re reluctant to say goodbye to me too.”

Xiang Ge smiled, wiping the corner of her eye. She looked at Bai Yuandao and curved her lips slightly. “Director Bai, I’ve been meaning to ask—why did you choose me?”

Bai Yuandao glanced at her. “Curious?”

Xiang Ge nodded.

“You’re famous.”

Xiang Ge’s expression was one of complete bewilderment.

Bai Yuandao studied her for a moment before speaking. “Every director has their own habits when casting roles. Some directors prefer established actors because their faces practically guarantee box office success. Once the lead roles are set, the film is virtually guaranteed. Others prefer newcomers, scouring campuses for fresh talent. They love to gamble and enjoy the process of personally polishing raw gems.”

Xiang Ge let out a soft “Ah.” “You’re the latter type?”

Bai Yuandao chuckled and shook his head, repeating, “You’re famous.” A faint smile creased the corners of his eyes. “The school flower of Zhongying Film Academy, countless award-winning short films during your time there, multiple entertainment companies vying to sign you by your second year—but you turned them all down. Instead, you went into modeling. Why?”

Xiang Ge stared, dumbfounded. “How do you know more about me than I do myself?”

“I watched one of your public service short films three years ago,” Bai Yuandao said calmly. “You played a patient with depression.”

Xiang Ge’s expression froze.

“At that time, Cocoon was still in its early stages, just an outline, but I already had my eye on you,” Bai Yuandao said cheerfully. “So, have you stepped out of her now?”

With a deep expression, Xiang Ge turned her head to look at him. “Director Bai.”

Bai Yuandao acknowledged her with a sound.

Xiang Ge spoke earnestly. “Love makes people grow. You’re past fifty—you should hurry up and settle down.”

Bai Yuandao: “….”

That night, at the wrap party, the assistant director finally had his last chance to indulge, clinging to Xiang Ge and refusing to let go. In the end, a group of them moved from the banquet hall to a barbecue stall, starting round two of the festivities.

By the end of the night, Xiang Ge calmly nibbled on a piece of toasted bread while listening to the assistant director recount his tragic love history through sobs and sniffles.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that the assistant director and Ji Ran managed to drag Xiang Ge back to the hotel. As they entered the elevator, the assistant director was still clutching Ji Ran, sobbing, “Baby, don’t leave me.”

Xiang Ge, holding two skewers of grilled chicken wings and a can of beer, leaned against the elevator wall and giggled uncontrollably.

Drunk people always seem inexplicably heavier than usual. Ji Ran was panting under the weight, struggling to support the assistant director while glancing at Xiang Ge in disbelief. “Are you completely immune to alcohol?”

“It’s different for women,” Xiang Ge said lazily, licking the corner of her lips. “One beer will get you drunk in front of someone you like. But if they’re not around, three bottles of baijiu won’t faze you.”

Ji Ran lowered his eyes in understanding, smiling faintly without saying anything.

Xiang Ge glanced at him and smiled. When the elevator reached their floor, she stepped out, waving the skewers in her hand without looking back. “Nice meeting you, Teacher Ji.”

After swiping open her room door, Xiang Ge leaned against it and gagged quietly, letting out a low groan.

How could she possibly be immune to alcohol? She hadn’t stopped drinking all night! She wasn’t a barrel!

Her stomach churned painfully, and she gagged again, shaking her head. She stumbled into the room, collapsing onto the couch. The cold beer can pressed against her slightly feverish neck as she pulled out her phone to text Zhou Xingyan.

It was the dead of night—he must already be asleep. Xiang Ge didn’t even consider whether he’d reply. Leaning her head to the side, her movements sluggish, she painstakingly typed out one letter at a time.

Click, send. Watching the message disappear into cyberspace, Xiang Ge casually tossed her phone aside, hugged a pillow, and fell asleep.

Xiang Ge had Gong Mo book a flight for the next morning. At just past seven, Gong Mo walked in to wake her.

Xiang Ge hadn’t slept for long. She was still sprawled on the couch, a closed beer can resting on her body, and a plastic bag of chicken wings hanging above her head. She hadn’t even removed her makeup.

Gong Mo wrinkled her nose in disapproval and threw a pillow at her.

Xiang Ge let out a startled “Ah,” kicking her legs twice. Slowly raising her arm, she tugged the pillow off her face.

Her eyes were still closed, but her brows furrowed.

Just then, the phone on the coffee table vibrated twice. Xiang Ge groggily reached for it, one eye closed and the other reluctantly cracking open.

[Zhou Xingyan: ?]

Xiang Ge: ?

After two minutes of mental processing, her consciousness returned. She glanced at the content of the message she had sent last night. Her other eye, which had been tightly shut, opened wide.

What exactly had she sent last night?

[Xiang Ge: Xingyan, when are you going to give me grass?]

“…”

Xiang Ge silently climbed off the couch, ruffling her messy hair, and turned to Gong Mo. “Cancel the ticket.”

Gong Mo: “?”

Xiang Ge covered her face in despair. “I can’t show my face anymore. Cancel the ticket.”

Gong Mo: “….”

Xiang Ge rolled around dramatically on the hotel carpet three times before finally accepting her fate. She dragged herself up, crawled into the bathroom, removed her makeup, took a shower, and emerged feeling somewhat human again.

By the time she came out, Gong Mo had nearly finished packing everything. After confirming the luggage, they headed to the airport early.

Xiang Ge hadn’t told Zhou Xingyan about returning early. She originally planned to surprise him upon arrival, but after sending that text last night, she completely lost the courage to call him.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to take the plunge. Why delay the inevitable? Tonight, she would resolve the issue that had troubled her for so long.

If left to Zhou Xingyan, he might wait until they were registering their marriage.

She had barely slept last night, woken up early for the airport, and endured three months of hellish military-style training under Bai Yuandao. By now, she was so exhausted she wanted nothing more than to bury herself under the covers and sleep until evening. After landing, she dragged her suitcase straight to her room.

After a quick shower, Xiang Ge couldn’t be bothered to unpack her suitcase for pajamas. She grabbed Zhou Xingyan’s neatly folded sleepwear from the foot of the bed, slipped it on without hesitation, and burrowed into his blanket. Hugging his pillow, she snuggled contentedly, set an alarm, and fell asleep.

Three days earlier, Zhou Xingyan had received a call from Lin Xiuran, his college roommate.

Back in university, their dorm consisted of four people. Besides Liang Shengxi, the other two were from out of town, living in different cities. Everyone was busy, and post-graduation reunions were rare.

So when Lin Xiuran mentioned he’d be traveling for work and staying for two days, the long-dormant group chat suddenly sprang to life.

Of the four dormmates, three were working professionals, while Tao Yuan was still in school. Despite the grueling coursework, his youthful energy remained intact, and his voice in the group chat sounded as lively as ever.

At the time, Zhou Xingyan was on duty. He only glanced at their conversation briefly before leaving his phone in the office. When he returned, somehow the gathering location had shifted from a certain hotel to his house.

Liang Shengxi was still primping, applying a face mask like a diva. “Xingyan’s place is great—it’s spacious, and since he lives alone, we can do whatever we want.”

Tao Yuan joked, “Zhou Doctor, who doesn’t have a girlfriend, will have his lonely nights filled with brothers tonight. Happy?”

Liang Shengxi chuckled mischievously but said nothing.

As soon as work ended that evening, Liang Shengxi dragged Zhou Xingyan away. Tao Yuan, whose school was in a neighboring city, had already driven to the airport to pick up Lin Xiuran and was heading to Zhou Xingyan’s place.

By the time Zhou Xingyan arrived, Tao Yuan had already circled his apartment complex three times.

Tao Yuan’s baby face and round, large eyes were framed by a flamboyantly designed long coat, making him look like a student from a design institute.

Liang Shengxi burst out laughing the moment he saw him. “I can’t imagine what the world would be like if all medical Ph.D.s were like you. There’d be so much more suffering.”

Tao Yuan kicked him lightly. “I spend all day in the lab staring at white walls—I’m practically colorblind. Can’t I wear something bright?”

Liang Shengxi arrogantly raised his chin. “I’m just saying, you’re almost thirty. Try to act mature.”

Zhou Xingyan pressed the elevator button and mercilessly exposed him. “When you were crying and begging me not to go on a blind date, I didn’t see you acting any more mature.”

During their college years, the group had visited Zhou Xingyan’s place a few times. When Zhou Xingyan opened the door this time, Tao Yuan was the second to enter, exclaiming loudly as he scanned the room. “Renovated your place, huh, Xingyan?”

Zhou Xingyan rarely hosted so many people at once. He went into the bedroom to fetch slippers for them, responding absently, “Yeah, right after graduation—” He pushed open the door and froze.

Xiang Ge, wearing his sleepwear, sat on the bed, holding a bedside lamp high above her head, staring at him in shock.

Zhou Xingyan held her gaze for three seconds, expressionless, before walking in and closing the door behind him without a word.

Xiang Ge let out a soft “Ah,” closed her mouth, and tilted her head to look at him as he approached the bed, still dazed. “I thought I heard unfamiliar voices earlier and assumed there was a burglar.”

Zhou Xingyan remained silent.

Xiang Ge exhaled deeply, still shaken. “You scared me.”

Without a word, Zhou Xingyan leaned down, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her deeply.

Xiang Ge lowered the lamp, palms pressing into the mattress as she strained to tilt her head back.

He applied a bit too much force, gripping the back of her head and tilting it upward. His kiss was far from gentle, invading every inch of her mouth.

Xiang Ge’s tongue tingled painfully, and she instinctively tried to pull back, emitting a soft whimper. She struggled weakly, attempting to push him away.

But Zhou Xingyan didn’t budge. With one hand, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it against his body, biting her tongue like a vampire.

Just as things were heating up, the bedroom door opened again.

Tao Yuan stood at the doorway, gripping the handle, and shouted, “Xingyan, how long does it take to get slipp—”

Zhou Xingyan finally lifted his head, pulling Xiang Ge close and shielding her with his body. He glanced over his shoulder at Tao Yuan, his gaze unmistakably signaling dismissal.

“…”

Tao Yuan calmly closed the door, muttering to himself, “Amitabha, blessings upon us all.”