Let’s Talk

Qian Chu was waiting at the door. After Li Lan came out, she steadied her for a moment. “Are you all right?”

Li Lan took the medicine Qian Chu handed her. Without water, she popped it straight into her mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed.

Li Lan shook her head. “Xiaoqing isn’t happy.”

Qian Chu sighed. “Director Yang’s way of doing things is often hard to accept.”

Li Lan still shook her head. After a long while, she said, “I didn’t handle this well.”

Qian Chu said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not a superhero. A lot of things aren’t yours to decide.”

Li Lan could let Zhu Qing go on a variety show, because no matter how ugly the backlash got online, she could firmly stand by Zhu Qing’s side.

But Li Lan did not want Zhu Qing getting involved in this film.

Maybe it was her sixth sense warning her; she always felt that if she took the script Yang Huayi had handed her and made it herself, she could accept whatever the outcome was. But once Zhu Qing was involved, Li Lan would be constrained, unable to stay as free and unbothered as before.

If Liu He chose to target Zhu Qing, then Li Lan would never let it slide.

But Li Lan was only a minor celebrity right now; she wasn’t in a position to go up against any of the big shots. If she wanted to bring Liu He down, she could only borrow Yang Huayi’s power.

Li Lan had a rough idea of Yang Huayi’s calculations. That woman was good at seeming weak while secretly cutting the legs out from under people.

As long as Yang Huayi succeeded, Li Lan would be able to live peacefully with Zhu Qing.

Otherwise, there would still be hidden troublemakers, and there was also that mentally ill Yu Ling, both lingering as future problems for her.

Qian Chu tried to persuade her. “Do you want to go to the hospital again? Why do I feel like your condition is getting worse?”

Li Lan pushed her hand away; her expression had already returned to normal. Calmly, she said, “No need. There’s still work with the crew. Come with me; I have something for you to do.”

Qian Chu had been concerned and sympathetic only a moment ago, but she instantly changed expression. Recognizing herself as a wage earner, she was no longer willing to worry about her black-hearted boss. “...Oh.”

Zhu Qing was in a bad mood, and she didn’t eat dinner that night either. The food the hotel sent over remained untouched.

At nine in the evening, Xiaobao called her on video.

Xiaobao had just finished bathing, and Zhao Yun was behind her, combing her hair. Xiaobao waved at Zhu Qing on the screen. “Zhu Zhu, when are you coming home?”

Children always wanted adults to keep them company. Zhu Qing thought about her filming schedule. “I can go back for a bit next week. Your mom is busier than I am; Zhu Zhu doesn’t know whether she’ll be back.”

Xiaobao pushed her whole face close to the screen. “Mom isn’t coming back. She just told me she won’t have time until next month.”

Zhu Qing gave a quiet “Mm.”

“Zhu Zhu, have you eaten?” Xiaobao asked very seriously. “Mom said you were in a bad mood, and told me to come cheer you up.”

Zhu Qing smiled at the screen, her tone very gentle. “I did. I’m in a pretty good mood, so Xiaobao doesn’t need to worry.”

“Really?” Xiaobao tilted her head, and only half her face remained in the frame. She turned to ask Zhao Yun whether she had heard her mother wrong, and the screen showed only the lower half of her face in profile.

Zhu Qing watched and narrowed her eyes, her fingers tightening around the phone.

In the background, a gift box flashed past.

That box was a commemorative item from Harmony Amidst Difference; there were very few of them, and it was stamped with Yang Huayi’s unique seal.

Yang Huayi had gone to see Xiaobao?

“Xiaobao, did someone come visit you?” Zhu Qing asked.

Xiaobao turned back around. “Is Zhu Zhu asking about Mom’s colleague?”

When Zhao Yun heard Zhu Qing’s question, she crouched down and steadied the phone so the screen faced Zhu Qing properly. “Director Yang came yesterday. Li Lan knew.”

Zhu Qing asked at once, “What did she come for?”

“To visit Xiaobao,” Zhao Yun answered honestly. After thinking it over, she added, “She seems to really like Xiaobao. She gave her a lot of expensive things.”

Zhao Yun walked to the cabinet and took out a box. Inside was a set of jade-and-gold jewelry.

“This bracelet is solid,” Zhao Yun said, weighing it in her hand. “I checked. It’s a full hundred grams.”

Zhu Qing had already gotten used to the way rich people treated money like it wasn’t money, so she didn’t think there was anything strange about Yang Huayi giving gold to a five-year-old. No matter how much gold there was, it was still only around ten thousand yuan or so.

Zhao Yun quickly went on, “As for this jade pendant, I looked into it too. Last year it was bought at a Hong Kong-Taiwan auction by some unknown person for three million US dollars.”

Zhu Qing blurted out, “How much?!?”

Zhao Yun nodded hard. “You heard me right.”

Zhu Qing was stunned. “And Li Lan let you accept it?”

Zhao Yun pressed her lips together and gave Zhu Qing a confirming look.

Zhu Qing clicked her tongue, the more she thought about it the worse it felt. “Then put it away properly... Jade breaks easily, and three million dollars isn’t a small sum... Forget it, let it break if it wants to; maybe they don’t care either... ”

Zhao Yun sprang to her feet. “Okay, I’ll switch to another safe right now and put everything away. It definitely won’t break.”

Zhu Qing: ...

Why did it feel like she’d been waiting for Zhu Qing to say that?

Xiaobao giggled beside them and secretly told Zhu Qing, “Teacher Zhao looks at the cabinet eight hundred times a day, but Mom only says, ‘Just put it there,’ and Teacher Zhao doesn’t know where to put it.”

When Xiaobao imitated Li Lan, she even furrowed her brows, reproducing Li Lan’s expression vividly.

That frosty, aloof face Li Lan always wore was somehow made adorable and absurd by Xiaobao’s imitation.

Zhu Qing couldn’t help laughing.

After hanging up, Zhu Qing’s mood, which had improved a little, sank again.

She and them were not the same kind of people.

Since childhood, the only person Zhu Qing could rely on was herself, and she was very ordinary. She had few ways to make money and had not seen much of the world; she took money very seriously.

As she drew closer to the entertainment industry, closer to capital like Yang Huayi, Zhu Qing gradually realized that their difference was not just in spending habits, but in the vast unevenness of the world itself.

Beyond that, Yang Huayi’s excessive protectiveness toward Xiaobao also sent chills through her.

Before, Zhu Qing had never doubted that Yang Huayi cared for Xiaobao because of Yan Jin. But what about later? Xiaobao was now being raised by Li Lan; hadn’t Yang Huayi spared Li Lan even a shred of consideration?

Was three million US dollars simply pocket change to Yang Huayi, or did she have some other reason for treating Xiaobao differently?

Zhu Qing didn’t dare think any further. She was already a sensitive person prone to internal exhaustion; over the years she had deliberately tried to become open-minded and generous, to not get stuck on things, to dare to act and dare to take responsibility. She had never expected that she would still meet Li Lan, and meet someone who made her this conflicted, someone whose answer she could never find.

Zhu Qing picked up the cooled porridge and drank it. She needed to sleep early, throw herself into work, and never think about these things again.

-

The atmosphere on set over the next few days was strange.

The staff all noticed it.

The clearest sign was that the interactions between the lead actors had become much fewer. The usual banter and laughter were gone; aside from discussing the scene and filming, there was nothing else.

Under this kind of atmosphere, the staff became cautious too. No one dared slack off, and efficiency actually improved quite a bit.

Today Zhu Qing had a scene with Li Lan, and the two of them were once again testing each other.

Bai Zehua’s father, the man who wanted to marry Lan Yin in as his sixth concubine, had died silently on a rainy night.

The first five concubines, because of Bai Zehua’s arrangements, had all been forced or coaxed out of the center of family power. On the day of the funeral, only Lan Yin, the nominal “concubine,” came forward to handle everything.

The director was a little troubled. “A lot of this film’s shots are going to rely on Zhu Qing’s microexpressions.”

Zhu Qing listened quietly. “What do I need to prepare?”

The director said, “Prepare your mood. The two of you are naturally affectionate whenever you act together; that worked well in the earlier scenes, but now it can’t just be love. There needs to be a little more suspicion and hatred. Zhu Qing, can you get what I mean?”

Zhu Qing asked, “Lan Yin is supposed to hate Bai Zehua?”

The director shook her head. “No. Lan Yin is disappointed in Bai Zehua. Bai Zehua is ruthless and decisive; she doesn’t trust you and keeps ruining your plans, forcing you to take the final step. You know that if you take that step, you’ll die, but you have no choice. You can’t let Bai Zehua ruin your plans anymore. That’s your faith; if you fail the mission, it’ll hurt more than death.”

Zhu Qing immersed herself in that emotion: suspicion, doubt, testing...

At dusk, Lan Yin knelt in the mourning hall, burning paper and chanting sutras.

Beside her was a huge coffin, and candles were arranged all over the floor.

Bai Zehua sent the others away, walked into the mourning hall, and closed the door.

Lan Yin’s chanting stopped abruptly.

“Little madam,” Bai Zehua said, her voice light and hoarse, like rough white silk, “you really can’t let go of the old man. He’s dead and you’re still keeping vigil for him.”

Lan Yin had knelt too long. She braced herself on the floor with both hands and took several seconds before she could steady herself and stand.

“What are you doing here?”

“This is my father. I came to see him off,” Bai Zehua said. There was not much grief in her expression, only a hint of heaviness; the way she looked at the coffin carried a bleakness. “And while I’m at it, I’m seeing you off too.”

Lan Yin said, “Seeing me off?”

Bai Zehua’s gaze only fell back on her after a moment. “The fifth concubine didn’t want to be buried alive. She begged me to let her go. The fourth concubine had a daughter. I told her the daughter she’d been thinking of, the one married far away, had been killed by bandits; only because the old man refused to pay ransom, she poisoned him and left behind a letter before disappearing.”

Lan Yin’s expression changed slightly.

Bai Zehua stepped closer. “The second concubine had both children, and she was the smartest person in the Bai family. Smart people always become a problem. I gave her three gilded coffins and sent her to her death.”

“And my mother went mad. I’ve locked her in a temple; she’ll never leave for the rest of her life.”

“What about you? Have you decided how you’ll end up?”

Bai Zehua brought out the hand she’d been hiding behind her back and threw out a length of white silk.

Lan Yin’s pupils shrank. Her gaze flicked to the silk, then back to Bai Zehua’s face.

“I can’t die yet.”

Bai Zehua looked amused. “Oh?”

“Whether I live or die won’t affect you,” Lan Yin said, meeting Bai Zehua’s eyes in the air before both looked away, like two blades scraping past each other; there was no trace left behind, yet the chill was unmistakable. “I won’t interfere with your business.”

The curve at Bai Zehua’s lips was half a smile and half not. “Little madam, no wonder we shared the same quilt. You even know what I want to do?”

She always used the address “little madam” to mock Lan Yin, but both of them understood perfectly well that the old man had never even clearly seen what she looked like, from beginning to end.

Bai Zehua wanted her to leave the Bai family.

But Lan Yin had an unavoidable reason she could not leave.

The two of them tested each other and doubted each other. They were clearly the people each other loved most; the tacit understanding they had once shared in love had become the sharpest weapon, stabbing straight into the other’s most painful place.

Lan Yin bent down, picked up the strip of white silk, and yanked hard. It was extremely tough.

The smile froze at the corner of Bai Zehua’s mouth.

“If you don’t believe me, you can just make a move on me.” Lan Yin met Bai Zehua’s gaze.

Bai Zehua clenched her teeth. “You think I won’t dare?”

Lan Yin’s expression was calm, without a ripple. “You dare. Come on.”

Bai Zehua seized Lan Yin’s hand, and the smile around her mouth could no longer be maintained.

One was cold and steady; the other was sharply mocking.

They were both waiting, waiting for the other to show a flaw, waiting for that instant of wavering.

When the beloved sheds warmth, you can no longer tell which expression or which words are sincerity, and which are calculation.

You love her, but you no longer trust her.

You probe, you guard, you keep silent; love rises and fades within suspicion. This was the sea of hatred and longing that belonged to the two of them alone.

“Cut—”

The director practically jumped up. “Lan Yin is perfect!”

She directed the camera crew to change positions. “It’s just that Bai Zehua is a little too tight in the back. Let’s do a few more takes.”

Zhu Qing stood there without moving, cooperating with Li Lan to reshoot the angles.

Li Lan, who usually filmed smoothly, still hadn’t gotten into the scene even after a long time today.

The director found it odd. “Bai Zehua’s state is off. Right now you don’t know what the other side is plotting; you suspect she has another purpose. There has to be caution and ferocity on your face. You can’t look guilty. What are you even feeling guilty about?”

Li Lan wiped her face and shot a few more takes, but she still couldn’t get through.

The moment she met Zhu Qing’s suspicious expression, she couldn’t bring out any expression at all.

The director had no choice but to call for a break first.

Li Lan sat under a tree to adjust her emotions.

Someone sat down beside her. Zhu Qing handed over a bottle of mineral water, her tone gentle. “Let’s talk?”

————————!!————————

Let’s talk, then.

(That weekend, long gone...)