Celebration? Go, Then

When Xi Zhen first saw Li Xingqing on the high-speed rail platform, she really had only thought of her as a kind-hearted young girl.

She looked exactly like the type who kept strangers at a distance and spoke sparingly, yet beneath that cool exterior was a gentle heart. That was precisely what Xi Zhen liked most. She had been betrayed before; she knew that no matter how pleasant the words sounded, they were still nothing more than sweet talk and empty charm.

But kindness couldn’t be faked. No matter how beautifully someone spoke, they couldn’t hide the indifference in their eyes. By the same token, no matter how cold Li Xingqing might have seemed on the surface, she couldn’t conceal the goodness at her core. Like a young deer just stepping into the world, Xi Zhen admired that purity, liked it, longed for it.

“Good little helper, and you still want to deny that you’re kind?” Xi Zhen reached up to brush the hair that had fallen in front of her face, staring at Li Xingqing without blinking.

“But what if one day, Sister finds out I lied to you too?”

“Would Good Girl lie to Sister as well?”

“What if?”

“Mm...” Xi Zhen thought it over for a moment, then gave a definitive answer. “Then we should still separate.”

The answer was far too cruel. Li Xingqing felt as if someone had dumped a basin of cold water over her head; the urge to confess vanished completely, and she couldn’t get a single word out. Xi Zhen, however, missed the half minute of stiffness from Li Xingqing, and that gave Li Xingqing enough time to bury her guilt.

Ke Wei was a very talented director. Li Xingqing had always known how to imagine where a shot would begin when she wrote a script, but only after she truly saw Ke Wei’s work did she understand that every profession had its master.

Snow drifted outside the window; the two of them sat together in the warm room, watching the tangled web of love and hate unfold in the TV drama.

Only when it reached the scene where Yu Qing personally ended Chi Zengshen did Li Xingqing ask, “They clearly loved each other. Why did it end up like this?”

Xi Zhen seemed to have expected that question a long time ago. She quoted a line from the drama: love and hate were both too heavy a burden between them. “Because the foundation of their love was deception, it was destined not to last.”

“But just because their motives weren’t pure at the start, does that mean we have to deny the fact that they loved each other?” Li Xingqing suddenly grew stubborn, as if she had wedged herself into an ox’s horn, determined to argue back.

“I’m not denying that they loved each other. It’s just that the love itself was wrong.” Xi Zhen sensed that Li Xingqing’s mood was off and paused the projection to look at her. “What’s wrong, Good Girl?”

Li Xingqing blanked for a second, then still said what was in her heart. “I don’t think Yu Qing should deny his present true love for the sake of a former lover.”

Xi Zhen listened and kept searching for the source of Li Xingqing’s emotional shift in those words. But she still found nothing, so she could only comfort her. “There’s more than just love between those two; there are a lot of other things in the way too, so Yu Qing can’t help it.”

“What if it were only love?” Li Xingqing was determined to get to the bottom of it today.

“If it were only love...” Then Yu Qing and Chi Zengshen would never have met at all, much less fallen in love. That was Xi Zhen’s answer, but obviously she couldn’t say it out loud at this moment.

In front of her were Li Xingqing’s reddening eyes. If she repeated her real thoughts now, it would seem heartless. As considerate as Xi Zhen was, she naturally followed the line Li Xingqing had given her. “If it were only love, then Yu Qing probably wouldn’t need to struggle at all.”

Finally getting the answer she wanted, Li Xingqing nodded. She took some cream from Xi Zhen’s hand and stuffed it into her mouth, mumbling, “What Sister says is right.”

Whether Sister was right was another matter, but Xi Zhen’s sweet talk tonight was definitely far from over. Li Xingqing, as if provoked by something, grabbed Xi Zhen and repeatedly traced every inch of skin on her body with her hands.

That year, the snow fell heavily, and *Seal the Heart* quietly went online in the cold winter.

On New Year’s Day, the *Seal the Heart* production group chat came alive. Among the many New Year wishes, Bai Mo was still jokingly asking whether they might become an overnight sensation.

Everyone tacitly replied that of course they would, but as for the future, no one could say.

*Seal the Heart* was a low-budget drama, with no extra money to spend on promotion, and Bai Mo and Zheng Yuyu were both basically newcomers. When the series first aired, it flopped exactly as expected. Li Xingqing’s name appeared only briefly in the credits before being brushed past and disappearing into the boundless sea of the internet.

Ke Wei felt very guilty about this and thought she had wasted Xi Zhen’s trust. She never expected the turning point to come after the fourth episode aired.

One night, a video editor with over a million followers suddenly uploaded a compilation of the drama’s most explosive scenes, paired with entertaining commentary, and the video went viral overnight.

Sometimes traffic really did come in such inexplicable ways. Countless netizens flooded the bullet comments asking, “What drama is this, please send a link!” and “What treasure did I miss?” The comment section was swarmed, and casual promoters were recommending it like crazy.

The next day, hashtags like #WhereDidTheEntertainmentIndustryFindThisHiddenGem# and #WhoAreTheseTwoHandsomeGuys# shot up the trending list, and *Seal the Heart* somehow, absurdly, blew up.

If one had to say that the end of the world was really mysticism, then this kind of drama—with its niche theme, obscure actors, and shoestring budget—had actually knocked down countless big-budget productions at the end of the year to become the undeniable dark horse of the new year. Bai Mo, who used to be the kind of person people would only ask for his WeChat if they ran into him on the street, now didn’t even dare step outside, terrified that fans might track down where he lived.

But the happiest person of all was actually the director, Ke Wei. This drama had been her comeback project; now all that could be said was that she had bet right, and Xi Zhen had bet right too.

As the plot deepened, all the preparations they had made finally proved worthwhile. Casting stories, behind-the-scenes footage—Ke Wei had left behind a lot of material during filming, and now that it was being released, it fit the drama perfectly.

The huge number of CP fans spawned by *Seal the Heart* began creating content on their own, and even the “BaiYu” shipping supertopic quickly surpassed 100,000 followers, racing toward an even bigger number.

The series was thriving across the board, and almost everyone benefited. Li Xingqing couldn’t help feeling emotional. Maybe it was because she was shocked that her first time joining a production had produced such a result; maybe it was because she had never realized that the moment a dream came true could feel so hazy and unreal.

She watched the familiar title of the drama inch up the trending list little by little. Countless strangers in the comments section were enthusiastically discussing the details and lines she had once personally revised, and it left Li Xingqing with a gentle, floating dizziness.

Fortunately, Xi Zhen held her steady, letting her truly feel that all of this was not a dream.

Xi Zhen asked, “What is it? Can’t believe it?”

Li Xingqing said, “No, it just feels a little too smooth.”

The *Seal the Heart* celebration banquet was held on January 15th; it was a small gathering Ke Wei had arranged privately. With the New Year approaching, most people were planning to return to their hometowns. Li Xingqing had specifically asked Xi Zhen, and as expected, the other woman had no intention of going home.

When Xi Zhen asked Li Xingqing in turn, Li Xingqing wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Say she was going to the US to see her sick mother, who was staying overseas? That didn’t seem very convincing, but she didn’t want to hide it from Xi Zhen either, so she answered vaguely.

Xi Zhen had spent so many years in the entertainment industry that she could sense something was off in Li Xingqing’s words. But everyone had secrets; she didn’t want to pry, so she didn’t ask further.

In the end, Li Xingqing said she was going back to Huizhou and might need nearly a month. Xi Zhen accepted it gladly and even took the initiative to offer to see her off.

With no excuse to refuse, Li Xingqing nodded and agreed; then she turned around and, as if nothing were amiss, bought a ticket back to Huizhou.

On the day of the celebration banquet, Ke Wei was in high spirits. Pointing at Bai Mo and Zheng Yuyu, she said, “You two had better stay tied together for the next half year. Consider it mutual support.”

Bai Mo was one of the artists Xi Zhen had signed, so as long as Xi Zhen had no objections, he naturally had none either. Zheng Yuyu’s agent, on the other hand, looked unhappy, but because there were quite a few people present, he still didn’t say anything in the end.

Everyone had been drinking, so of course it wasn’t convenient to drive anymore. Xi Zhen had Bai Mo’s assistant take him back first, while she and Li Xingqing prepared to get a taxi home.

Bai Mo was dizzy and foggy-headed, showing no sign at all of being the hot star he was right now. He clung to Zheng Yuyu and wanted to keep drinking with him, muttering something under his breath; only Zheng Yuyu, standing beside him, probably could make out what he was saying.

Xi Zhen didn’t want to deal with him. After handing him over to the assistant, she didn’t care whether Zheng Yuyu was following nearby or not; she simply turned and left.

Whether those two were acting for real or falling in love through the work didn’t matter. For the next stretch of time, being temporarily tied together was the best thing for them. As for how things would develop after that, Xi Zhen wasn’t worried she’d lose to Zheng Yuyu’s agent; then they would each rely on their own abilities.

A City’s winter was very cold. Li Xingqing’s ticket home was set for two days later, and right now, they were on the verge of parting.

They had been together for so long. They did separate often before, but most of the time it was Xi Zhen traveling for work. Now that the person leaving had changed, Xi Zhen felt a little off inside.

She chalked it up to Li Xingqing being too good at taking care of people. After all, Li Xingqing was so much younger than her, yet she was born with the habit of managing her. She insisted on three meals a day, forbade her from eating anything cold during her period; you could say she was more controlling than Xi Zhen’s own mother.

Xi Zhen didn’t find it annoying; instead, she found the experience refreshingly novel. Li Xingqing bossed her around constantly, and whenever she was dissatisfied, she would look at Xi Zhen with a wounded expression, as if Xi Zhen were the worst criminal in the world.

At this moment, just after they left the hotel, Li Xingqing took out a scarf and wrapped it around Xi Zhen’s neck so tightly that not a trace of wind could get in.

Xi Zhen said it was hot, but she made no move to take the scarf off. Li Xingqing didn’t care in the slightest; she took Xi Zhen’s hand in her own and put it in her pocket. Then she bumped her forehead lightly against Xi Zhen’s, and only after confirming that the other woman really didn’t seem cold did she relax.

“Sister, wear the scarf so the wind doesn’t get in,” Li Xingqing explained, then checked the ride-hailing information on her phone.

“Got it, household manager.” Xi Zhen’s hair was blown a little messy by the wind, but her hand was in Li Xingqing’s pocket, and she didn’t want to take it out at all.