Chapter 68: “Come on, Accomplice. You Can’t Escape.”

The backstage was nothing like the runway. While the runway was dazzling and orderly, the backstage was chaotic with high heels scattered all over the floor. Models changed clothes right in the middle of the walkways, and arguments were common due to the tight schedule. With Wen Li present, however, things rarely got out of hand.

This was a show meant to break loneliness, so they avoided using overly solitary background music. Still, Wen Li was feeling restless. The exhibition hall was filled with vibrant colors, but there was no sign of the red she had been longing for. Beautiful men and women moved around her, but none of them were the person she wanted to see.

Wen Li adjusted her emotions—she was used to handling interviews in such noisy settings. As long as her mother didn’t burst in and start yelling at her, or magic didn’t whisk away her pumpkin carriage, she could handle it.

“Today’s product launch was truly impressive. How long ago did your team start planning this?”

“We began coordinating with the brand two months ago. We discussed their philosophy and felt this venue was perfect for a show that breaks loneliness. Once we had the idea, we immediately started executing it.”

“No wonder it’s WL. This launch has a very fateful feel to it.”

Wen Li glanced toward the door. A tall man walked in holding champagne, but he was just an acquaintance, not the red figure she had hoped for. Wen Li felt a flicker of irritation. Fine, if he didn’t want to come, let him stay hidden.

“How did WL PRESS become so successful? Is it because someone in your family is involved in these industries?”

Wen Li’s smile froze for a second before she quickly replaced it with a confident grin. “My parents both work in the fashion industry. They’ve written books and taught abroad, so I naturally followed in their footsteps. But public relations is something I explored on my own. I went from knowing nothing to where I am now.”

“Indeed. Before this, you worked in PR for Muse Collection . Back then, your team only had five people, and your responsibilities were quite extensive…”

“Yes, I personally handled guest invitations, media outreach, floral arrangements, and banquet planning. I scouted venues and managed the purchase of alcohol within budget constraints. You could say Muse was like a child I raised…”

“Now you have many ‘children.’ Up-and-coming independent designers are waiting for you to represent them, and you’re the only one doing this domestically!”

Everyone backstage laughed. Only Wen Li knew that while they envied her, part of her success stemmed from the first batch of capital provided by her parents—fabricating a story about supportive, industry-savvy parents saved her a lot of trouble. She had genuinely worked hard during those early years when everyone was scrambling for new media exposure. She wore the most decent black outfits she could afford, ran to venues in high heels after taking the bus, sought help from local students abroad, negotiated with agencies for venues, and meticulously replied to guests and media back home. After fashion week ended, she bought flowers tailored to each celebrity and editor’s preferences, knowing exactly how to communicate with agents without offending them to ensure smooth collaborations.

Before all this, she was just an ordinary girl from a normal teaching school, and her mother was a simple tailor who sewed tirelessly day and night. No matter how hard she studied, she could only work unconditionally. When she tried to register her company, no one believed in her. Spinning a partial lie allowed her to secure resources faster and feel more justified in what she received. At least now, every time she received praise and admiration, she no longer reflexively asked herself, like her mother would, “Do you deserve this?”

The champagne cork popped, startling Wen Li and successfully amusing those around her. She should have picked up her glass with a faint smile, but instead, she found herself distracted. She glanced sideways at the door. She hadn’t been mistaken!

Declining her friends’ toasts, she excused herself and walked out, quickening her pace. Amidst the bustling venue, there he stood, wearing the red outfit she had given him, gazing upward at the brand story displayed on the wall. How could giving him a coat turn into his lifelong skin?

No one approached him. Duanmu Xuan seemed to automatically isolate himself from the surrounding noise. When he saw her, his eyes lit up, and it was as though a lamp had been lit in Wen Li’s heart.

People around them were watching. After all, Duanmu Xuan was 185 cm tall, strikingly handsome, and dressed impeccably, yet he hadn’t stepped onto the stage. He looked more like a soon-to-be-famous young actor. As someone familiar with fame, Wen Li could read his expression. Though he appeared impatient, he had actually read every single brand story under the signage and promotional slogans.

“Are you here to pick me up?”

“If you’re willing to leave with me, then yes.” Duanmu Xuan’s ears reddened slightly. “The air quality here isn’t great. I can take you somewhere with fresher air.”

“Oh? Where to? Don’t you dislike this city?”

Holding Duanmu Xuan’s hand carefully, Wen Li refrained from calling his name. She realized he might lead her to an unfamiliar place, but she had already explored every corner of Shanghai. Where else could they go?

Pop music vibrated through the ground, reaching their feet. Young girls jostled for positions in random dance-offs, wearing shorts or skirts, their faces glowing with youthful collagen. Wen Li lingered at a stall selling handmade woven scarves, checkered aprons, shiny flasks, and fragrant bead strands… It smelled divine, so much so that she stopped in her tracks.

“Young lady, if you like them, buy a strand. These beads have been soaked in fragrance for months. Wearing them on your wrist will keep you smelling nice all day…”

It was a scent she had never encountered before. Wen Li eagerly stacked multiple strands on her arm and playfully teased Duanmu Xuan: “Can you buy me one?”

Duanmu Xuan struggled to remove the beads as quickly as Wen Li put them on, but he still resisted: “I don’t have enough money for all of these.”

An awkward Wen Li took off all the strands and returned them to the stall one by one, her face crestfallen. “Then I won’t take any.”

Duanmu Xuan panicked slightly. “I originally planned to buy butterbeer from the first stall and the prettiest Cattleya orchid earrings for you. But since you like these, I’ll get them for you.”

“Don’t tell me you only have this much money.”

“…Yeah.”

“Didn’t anyone teach you to save some resources for yourself? Don’t give everything away and end up with nothing, burdening others in the process.”

“Oh, and someone shouldn’t load up their entire arm with bracelets they can’t lift, leaving them sore.”

Wen Li smacked the back of his head. “You poor thing. Why did you bring me here to play if you’re broke?”

“I’m not someone who makes money—I simply don’t crave wealth.”

“What about when you were younger? Surely you didn’t grow up protecting civilians from birth. Even Sun Wukong spent his youth in Flower-Fruit Mountain, adventuring through the Water Curtain Cave as the Handsome Monkey King!”

Before he could figure out who the Monkey King was or answer questions about his childhood, Duanmu Xuan could only cross his arms and purse his lips. Wen Li understood—he must not have had a warm childhood either.

Approaching a fruit cake stall, Wen Li, who was hungry, asked, “Can you buy this for me?”

An elderly woman emerged from the back room, her expression changing upon seeing Duanmu Xuan. She picked up her child and tried to shoo them away. Wen Li grew irritated. “Why behave like this? Are you refusing to do business?”

“Look at how stern he looks—it’ll scare the children!”

Sure enough, the child in her arms began to cry. Nearby vendors turned their attention to Duanmu Xuan, visibly frightened, completely out of sync with the festive atmosphere. Duanmu Xuan froze. The cheerful foreign tunes continued, but people paused their movements, sizing him up and whispering among themselves. Shadows fell over Duanmu Xuan’s face, dimming his presence. Wen Li understood—in the main storyline, the red-clad warrior who usually subdued demons lived in seclusion, and his appearance in a town often signaled impending disaster.

Now, in real life, people whispered about him. On the surface, the boy who acted indifferent instinctively distanced himself from the crowd.

A child nearby, whose hands were smeared with paint, reached out and dabbed some on Duanmu Xuan’s face. He was still stunned: “You—”

Wen Li smeared three circles on her own face, resembling a fish blowing bubbles. Whether beautiful or ugly, it didn’t matter as long as it lightened the mood. Surprisingly, the little boy was quite generous, showing no signs of crying. He even extended his brush, offering to share the paint: “Auntie, would you like to use my brush? My mom bought these non-allergenic paints…”

Duanmu Xuan took a few steps back, still scanning for potential danger.

Wen Li grew impatient—come on, this wasn’t the perilous main storyline anymore. Who was he protecting? Besides, why dwell on past grievances? She was already miserable enough; why was he also paying for others’ isolation?

Her hands still sticky with wet paint, she smeared the remaining colors on every passerby who hadn’t yet been painted, gripping Duanmu Xuan tightly with her other hand. “Come on, accomplice. You can’t escape.”

The young people around them didn’t resist. Perhaps the unique atmosphere of the market made such antics acceptable, or maybe they were too dazzled by the incredibly handsome Duanmu Xuan to protest. Or perhaps everyone was simply in a good mood, enjoying the colorful paint on their faces.

She always seemed to spontaneously perform acts of kindness, a stark contrast to the way she hysterically argued with her mother. Rescuing trapped kittens in stairwells, buying lilies and gardenias from elderly street vendors, sending sanitary pads and soap to impoverished girls—these small gestures sprang from fleeting moments of compassion and were immediately acted upon. Duanmu Xuan clearly hadn’t expected to be pulled into the crowd like this. People initially avoided him, hesitated, then slowly approached, drawn by the lingering fragrance of the bead strands. They even made space for him to dance.

The main road was starting to get crowded. Wen Li said, “The fireworks will start soon. Shall we sit and wait?” But it was strange—why were fireworks being set off in the city center?

Duanmu Xuan smiled without answering. He wasn’t entirely comfortable in the crowd, but Wen Li pulled him along, and they sat together. When he hugged his knees, they rose higher than his shoulders. Wen Li thought, what long legs—perfect for a model.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Do they also set off fireworks in Minnie City where you live?”

“Of course. And they’re mechanical explosives.”

“Huh?”

“They’re abandoned celebration devices from another place, imbued with their own consciousness. The device once hated this village, but after I ‘reformed’ it, the townspeople frequently came to oil it, and before celebrations, they’d bring paint. In return, it sets off various fireworks.”

Listening to Duanmu Xuan recount unpublished parts of the main storyline, Wen Li found it fascinating: “So humans and machines can coexist harmoniously?”

“When they possess relatively mature life and consciousness, they can think equally. Humans were just the first to evolve the ability to think—why can’t machines?”

With a loud boom , fireworks shot into the sky, accompanied by gasps and cheers from the crowd. The first burst was a magnificent purple—Wen Li had never seen such a purple before. It was dazzling and grand, each cluster bursting apart with a sound akin to crackling cellophane. Soon, the second and third bursts rose, shimmering like stars, cascading like water, forming different patterns that elicited continuous exclamations. Children screamed in delight, and everyone was joyful. More fireworks ascended in succession, filling the night sky above the buildings. Wen Li found it unbelievable. She had never paid much attention to machines, thinking their sole purpose was convenience. But fireworks ignited by the warmth of machine consciousness? She hadn’t considered that angle.

She thought of Lingke, the only AI that had ever stirred her emotions. The glow of the fireworks reflected on her face. Lingke had once said that when AIs contemplate emotions, it’s like setting off fireworks in their minds.

Duanmu Xuan was secretly watching her. When Wen Li caught his gaze, he didn’t look away. Instead, he puffed out his cheeks and tilted his head, gesturing for her to look at the fireworks. Pretending to punch him playfully, Wen Li leaned heavily on Duanmu Xuan’s shoulder. “The residents of Minnie City laugh so happily—is it all thanks to your protection?”

“Not entirely. They’re kind and brave people.”

“In Minnie City, you must watch the fireworks from far away on the snowy mountains, right?”

“Everyone should have the right to laugh and do what they want. Being forced to take responsibility stems from lingering worries—they can’t all recklessly take risks. If it allows everyone to laugh freely, I don’t mind standing farther away.”

“No. You belong here. Become part of them. Being consumed by karma is already tragic enough. Why won’t you speak up? Why can’t you become part of this place?”

“You’re so stubborn. Protecting them is my duty. As for rewards and admiration, I don’t expect them.”

“Why not take what’s yours? You’re a hero, aren’t you?”

Before they could finish admiring the fireworks, Duanmu Xuan quietly led her away, slipping through the market’s narrow paths. They climbed over barrels, scaled a wall, and jumped down. Rainwater pooled ankle-deep, but neither felt the chill as they ran back to the riverside. The rain had stopped, and the night was deep. Few people were out for a stroll. Someone played a saxophone, and the riverside became quiet, the damp air tinged with the scent of alcohol, leaving them slightly tipsy. Wen Li was delighted, but Duanmu Xuan seemed agitated: “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“What did I do? Oh, I successfully made them accept you.”

“Painting your face is a gesture of affection. So, during the festival, you essentially confessed to seven or eight people.”

Was this jealousy? Wen Li secretly rejoiced—after all, opportunities to journey to the Continent of Romance were rare. This naive, puppy-like boy wouldn’t leave her side if painted, which clearly meant she gained something.

“Did you approach me because of my glamorous exterior?” Walking along the riverside, Wen Li felt dizzy from the wind and alcohol. She hesitated asking this question, but a mischievous thought urged her to confirm. Perhaps that thought was “evil”—grasping something undeserved required repeated confirmation of ownership.

“Approach?” Duanmu Xuan didn’t understand. “If not for you, why would I be standing here?”

“Really?”

“I don’t lie.” Duanmu Xuan’s face flushed red as he pulled a Cattleya earring from his pocket, fragrant and purchased from the bead vendor. Wen Li was surprised and touched—she hadn’t expected to receive a gift from this peculiar outing. Teasing him, she joked, “You poor thing. Did you steal it?”

“I spent my last two coins on it for you. I act with integrity—I don’t do anything I’d regret.”

“Oh my, how will you survive?” Wen Li genuinely worried—wouldn’t such a male lead lack popularity? Yet he was paradoxically the most popular one.

“Not having money doesn’t mean I don’t have resources.”

She decided she needed to probe Jiang Huan further—where exactly did Duanmu Xuan hide his money?

Feeling somewhat reassured, Wen Li tapped Duanmu Xuan’s head lightly. “How was the fashion show experience?”

“A bunch of people walking back and forth in clothes that look similar, with incomprehensible concepts on bags. But if it were me, I’d find it frustrating to fight while being held back by my clothes.”

Wen Li laughed until tears streamed down her face. Now she understood why she thought Duanmu Xuan’s outfits in Romance Continent were ugly—his character design intentionally avoided flashy clothing. But it didn’t matter now; she found him the most handsome man in the world. Tentatively, she asked, “If all this didn’t belong to me, if fame and fortune disappeared and I were just a sharp-tongued, cynical ordinary person, would you still find me special?”

“You’re deeply passionate about this career, working tirelessly for it, and earning respect and admiration. It’s something that requires talent and is difficult. Fashion may not be my expertise, but since you love it, and it’s admirable, I, as an observer, will gradually change my perspective.”

“Are you always this straightforward?”

“Why beat around the bush? Words left unsaid should be spoken next time—if there even is a next time.” A trace of melancholy flashed across Duanmu Xuan’s eyes. “I’ve encountered this situation many times.”

“So you’re just worried about not having another chance to speak, and that’s why you’re dodging my question.”

Still swaying from the alcohol, Wen Li stumbled. Duanmu Xuan stood in front of her, blocking most of the light. The river absorbed the noise, and the quiet ambiance amplified his silent frustration. Wen Li felt a pang of fear: “I was just joking. You really do come and go like the wind—I don’t see you often…”

“You deserve all of this. Stop constantly questioning whether you’re worthy.”

Wen Li froze—Duanmu Xuan wasn’t referring to himself. The tall boy’s eyes were pitch-black, reflecting the entire night’s light. “If something belongs to you, it means you’ve invested time, energy, and passion surpassing others. Even if it’s difficult, your willpower carries you through. Naturally, that thing becomes yours.”

“What about you? Do you belong to me?”

He suddenly blushed and turned his head away. “If you wish, then I belong to you.”

The wind seemed to stop. She had seen plenty of 185 cm male models, each with distinct features and personalities written on their faces. Men often approached her deliberately, subtly displaying their “price tags”—micro-expressions and poses translated into RMB, with runway walks costing extra. When she became a stepping stone for men, her value became glaringly obvious. The more successful she was, the greater her allure, and clowns vied for her attention. But she had never met someone as sincere as him, someone whose scent she could detect—and whose loneliness she could sense.

“Can I hug you?”

Wen Li laughed heartily. “Why not? Is this offensive?”

“Mm, I figured I should ask first.” Duanmu Xuan, high attack but low defense, blushed furiously like a tomato. “I thought you seemed lonely, and hugs can alleviate many emotions—that’s what I just read in your fashion week brand story.”

“No need to justify it.” Wen Li enjoyed teasing him. “After living for so long, don’t you know hugs make hearts race?”

“I’ve only hugged injured people—they didn’t really need me. But it’s fine; I don’t care much about these things…”

Before he finished, Wen Li embraced him. His taut muscles tensed, unprepared, and he remained stunned for a long moment before finally smiling and hugging her back tightly. “Hugging so quickly—are you trying to comfort me?”

“Mm. Later, big sister will treat you to late-night snacks, a hundred times better than Minnie City’s.”

“No need for compensation—I don’t care about that.”

“Stop talking nonsense. Accompany me while I eat.”

This competition to warm each other felt like passing a cherished warmth back and forth, cradled in their palms. They might as well hold each other close and embrace directly.

Perhaps it was to make you feel needed, or perhaps it was for myself. Do you know, Duanmu Xuan? I’m not afraid of loneliness. When I was so hungry my stomach hurt, eating plain bread with water, receiving intravenous drips for low blood sugar while making PowerPoint presentations in the infusion room, or hugging mannequins and being mocked—loneliness has been part of my bloodstream, and every inch of my skin is acutely sensitive to its arrival… I once couldn’t understand why my mother leaned on others and kept tormenting me, but that’s just who I’ve always been. And now, this continuous warmth is melting me, making me realize that loneliness can be dissolved. Placing a part of my heart with someone else, even if we don’t meet, fills me with happiness. I cling tightly to everything I can grasp, so when I truly develop feelings, I end up hurting others because my grip tightens uncontrollably. But now, I’m beginning to feel this lighter, less suffocating sensation. We don’t even need to meet often—I carry you in my heart, and thinking of you brings me joy. Though this signal is faint and not bright enough, it’s like a traffic light. The green light lasts for a minute, doubt flashes for three seconds, and the red light prohibits for another minute, switching back and forth.

I’ve never deserved any of this. But while I still have it, I show you my best side, hoping you’ll recognize me.

I try not to let you see too much, considering your embrace is too pure and too vast, making it irresistibly addictive.