Chapter 83: Epilogue

For Wei Chi, this was actually a rare opportunity.

Documentaries differed from regular promotional videos not only in scale but also in the much higher demands for texture and coordination skills. With his current experience, he couldn’t possibly take the lead; he needed to learn under an experienced director. Yin Mengxi had worked in the Program Center for ten years and knew more than half of the directors capable of shooting documentaries in their circle. If the project was greenlit, its production quality would undoubtedly be excellent. For Wei Chi, this was both a precious learning opportunity and a chance to expand his network.

She knew she was mentoring him and Yao Ankai at the same time. Encountering such a leader was a blessing for juniors, yet Wei Chi sneered, saying, “I’m not going.” After about half a month, he finally came around, thinking, Damn it, I’ve already lost love—if I don’t grab something for my career, I’ll lose everything. He began finding excuses to approach Yin Mengxi, saying things like, “If you really need my help, I guess I could lend a hand.”

As an adult, Yin Mengxi naturally didn’t hold grudges against children. After pacifying Wei Chi, she devoted herself entirely to her work. The footage was sent to the editing room for revision after revision, and she stayed by closely, almost sleeping at the station.

This was revenge-driven work, as if she intended to offset months of stagnation all at once. Her level of dedication scared Luo Hua, who suspected that the pressure from him and Director He might have broken her. Behind her back, he secretly called Director He, asking her to find a way to provide psychological counseling.

“She’s always like that—don’t worry about her,” Director He chuckled on the phone. “Just wait and see, Old Luo. People from our Program Center aren’t pushovers.”

Whether people from the Program Center were pushovers or not, Luo Hua didn’t know. But one thing was certain: the Program Center recently got into trouble.

In early May, Never Stop officially premiered, with massive promotion across all media platforms. Initially, the ratings were decent—after all, they had invited so many celebrities, ensuring high attention. However, during the fourth episode’s recording, disaster struck. Reportedly, inadequate safety measures caused a piece of exercise equipment to malfunction during a task challenge, throwing a guest from a height of over two meters. The artist reportedly suffered fractures and required surgery.

The reaction from the station was immediate suppression of the news. However, the recording wasn’t conducted in a closed venue, and there were fans watching the shoot nearby. Soon, footage of the incident spread online, sparking heated discussions. Fans demanded that the production team and the station issue a statement explaining the cause of the accident and compensating the injured artist.

The compensation involved astronomical figures—not just for the artist’s injuries but also for delays in subsequent film and television productions and other variety show appearances. While money was a minor issue, accountability was critical. At first, blame fell on a third-party company for providing faulty equipment. Later, however, the Program Center itself was exposed for withholding labor fees and failing to properly inspect and maintain the site, making them more culpable.

Now, the situation was dire. The station chief had been alerted and demanded a thorough investigation into the financial details of Never Stop ‘s production team to provide answers to the public. Yin Mengxi, as the original project planner, was called in for questioning but quickly cleared of any involvement since she hadn’t handled funding during her tenure. Now, Sun Jianbin and Zheng Ze were left to fight among themselves.

The two were far from resolving their conflict. Everyone at the station was watching the drama unfold—some envied Zheng Ze’s rapid rise, while others resented Sun Jianbin’s leadership style. No one stood up for them, and everyone waited eagerly for someone to fall.

Yin Mengxi no longer cared about these trivial matters. Her focus was solely on her work and life. In May, when the热搜 (hot search) was dominated by the incident, she barely paid attention, pouring all her energy into her promotional video. By late May, she finally produced something she was satisfied with. After submitting it to A University’s Publicity Department, feedback from leaders and teachers was overwhelmingly positive, with minor adjustments like subtitle size and school logo placement. She wrapped up cleanly and emerged from the editing room, finally remembering that she had a fiancé—and that she would marry him next month.

Most of the wedding preparations over the past month had been handled by Xiao Zhi and his parents.

Yin Mengxi’s contributions were minimal—she merely picked a style and measured herself for her custom wedding dress. Everything else, from the venue to the bouquet design and catering arrangements, she left untouched. By the time she finished her project, Xiao Zhi had nearly completed everything, leaving only the wedding invitations unwritten.

Naturally, she felt guilty. During her post-project break, she went to his house and volunteered to handle the remaining invitations, declaring she would finish them all herself.

“Let me do it,” he sighed, sitting on the living room sofa and unpacking new invitations. “Go rest for a bit—you’ve been too tired lately.”

Still fearing he might feel neglected, she obediently shook her head and sat beside him, carefully wrapping her arms around his.

“I’m not sleepy—I’ve rested enough…” She gently nuzzled his shoulder. “…Let me write them. I want to feel involved.”

…So even she realized how little she had participated.

He smiled at her and handed over the invitations and pen. She happily accepted them, rolled up her sleeves, and sat on the thick carpet in the living room. Carefully unfolding each invitation, she wrote every word with great care.

“I haven’t written by hand in a long time,” she said anxiously as she wrote. “It looks kind of ugly.”

He glanced down, coughed lightly, and replied, “It’s fine—it doesn’t look bad.”

She heard the reassurance in his tone, pouted, and flipped through the ones he had already written. His brush-like strokes made beautiful writing more elegant and clumsy writing more awkward—his handwriting was exquisite, neat and balanced, without sharp strokes. Instead, it appeared rounded and upright, with deliberate pauses at the end of each stroke, looking exceptionally clean and poised.

…Which made hers look even worse.

Slightly disheartened, she closed the invitations he had written and continued painstakingly writing hers while chatting idly: “Did you study calligraphy before? It looks so professional.”

He had nothing better to do, so he sat beside her peeling an apple, casually replying, “It was a childhood thing—I’ve gotten rusty now.”

…A bit humblebraggy.

“Oh,” she said, then remembered her documentary project planned for June, which might focus on museum paintings and calligraphy. Excitedly, she turned to him again: “Remember I mentioned starting a new project? My supervisor says it’s okay to begin preparations. I want to focus on calligraphy and paintings—would you be willing to be my professional advisor? Paid, of course.”

Xiao Zhi raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. “Payment?”

Clearly, he wasn’t particularly interested.

“It’s mainly to help me…” She began exercising her privileges as his fiancée, leaning against his leg and swaying. “This field is highly specialized—I can’t do it alone.”

He had already peeled the apple, cutting a small piece to feed her. She ate it sweetly, reaching out to gently hook her finger around his as he brought it to her lips.

“Well?”

She continued to pout.

“We’ll see how you behave,” he seemed amused by her persistence, his eyes filled with gentle laughter. “If after marriage you’re still as busy as you’ve been lately, you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

As he spoke, he reached out to pinch her cheek.

This was an old habit—he had always liked pinching her since their student days. She adored such tender intimacy, feeling completely relaxed nestled against him.

“Got it,” she blushed, secretly kissing his hand as he fed her another piece of apple. “…I’ll behave.”

And so, she diligently wrote invitations for most of the day, from eleven in the morning until eight at night, taking breaks only for meals he prepared. Even after eating, she still had a thick stack left.

“I’ll help you,” he smiled, massaging her sore hand. “We’ll split the rest.”

“No,” she refused stubbornly, her persistence hard to overcome. “There are only about thirty left—I can finish tonight.”

He sighed helplessly, seeing her determination and decided not to argue further. Glancing at his watch, he said, “I have a video meeting soon—it’ll end around ten. If you’re tired, go to sleep—no need to wait for me.”

She thought her nocturnal schedule wouldn’t let her sleep by ten but obediently nodded, “I understand.”

After a while, he took his laptop into the study, and she continued writing on the coffee table in the living room. Warm light enveloped her, and the quiet night was soft and beautiful.

The auspicious date was set, and the good day awaited.

With humble wine, I thank dear friends.

Mountains and rivers bear witness—to bring you here.

A banquet is prepared, awaiting your presence.

Stroke by stroke, clear characters fell onto the paper. Many blurred fragments of the past were slowly exchanged for a concrete future. Between her and him, it seemed like so much had happened—the years stretched endlessly—but in truth, the story was simple. She had thought she would fall helplessly into an endless lake, only to be gently lifted by a warm spring day.

She smiled faintly, every word on the paper like a gift of fate. The climate between spring and summer was too pleasant, and the quiet space allowed her tightly wound nerves to slowly relax. That person seemed to have such magic—just being near him could heal all her wounds, driving away all loneliness and sadness in the world.

By the time she finished the last invitation, his meeting wasn’t over yet. She tidied up the pens and paper, sitting on the floor playing with her phone. As she played, drowsiness crept in—perhaps accumulated fatigue hadn’t fully dissipated—and she fell asleep on the coffee table before ten.

The faint scent of ink surrounded her, softly lulling her to sleep. Just as she drifted off, she heard a soft creak—probably him emerging from the study. The small sound felt tender and intimate.

Dazedly raising her head, she first saw a pair of deep, beautiful eyes—eyes that had gazed at her long ago in a radiant light. All the coincidences she thought were random were merely veiled inevitabilities.

She knew.

…That wasn’t a dream.

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

(1) The congratulatory verses are quoted from sources and are not original.

From June 1st to August 26th, I spent a summer writing a springtime story. I’m deeply grateful for the companionship of all my little angels along the way. I hope you enjoy this story, as delicate and quiet as spring rain.

The concluding essay is posted on Weibo, offering some explanations about the conception of this story and comparisons with Drinking Ice . Interested angels are welcome to check it out!

I hope to meet everyone again in the next story~ Bowing!

Thank you for reading!