2013

“Xingfu Road! We’re here!”

2013, summer, Xingfu Road underground garage. The old tricycle and the old electric scooter cut their engines at the same time, like two dogs of different sizes, parked side by side outside and panting in the heat.

They didn’t rush to put things away.

The three of them parked the vehicles, each grabbed a popsicle from Lang Lang’s upstairs fridge, then ran from the cheap underground garage—the one the landlord secretly ran electricity to and rented out—to the playground in the compound, the kind only proper tenants and homeowners were supposed to use. Together, they tipped their heads back and looked up at the moon.

It was a full moon.

Lang Lang sat high up at the top of the slide. With the popsicle between her teeth, she looked up as well.

Very seriously, she filmed the moon with the DV she’d bought at a secondhand market, saying she’d use the footage in a future movie.

Chi Xiaoman and Chen Tong sat on the seesaw.

As new roommates, they chatted in bits and pieces.

The popsicles were the little pudding bars that were very popular back then.

One yuan each.

Chi Xiaoman ate quickly, and before long there was only the stick left.

Then.

She held that bare stick and looked at Chen Tong across the seesaw.

Once again, because of the hazy moonlight and the especially clear, beautiful lines of the woman’s face, she couldn’t help thinking—

If Wang the bastard saw this, she’d definitely be upset again.

But Chi Xiaoman wasn’t the sort of person Wang the bastard was.

So she just looked at her with a grin.

Chen Tong might have been used to that kind of gaze, but not quite to something so direct. She pressed her lips together slightly, looking a little embarrassed, and smiled. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

“You’re pretty.” Chi Xiaoman never held back her praise.

Even though she was holding a bare stick and probably looked a little silly smiling like that, she still said it openly.

“Sister Chen Tong, you’re so beautiful.”

The seesaw wasn’t easy to sit on. She’d just told Chen Tong to sit down slowly, and now that she was on the higher end, she was almost level with the moon. After saying that, she naturally lifted her chin and added with a grin, “Just like tonight’s moon.”

“Why tonight’s moon?”

Chen Tong looked up too.

After watching for a while, she asked in confusion, “Is there something different about it?”

“Because tonight’s a full moon.” Chi Xiaoman was young; her speech still carried a lot of filler words she couldn’t quite shake.

She also got happy over little things very easily.

“And we only just moved into Xingfu Road today.”

Chen Tong smiled too, and seemed to have a lot of curiosity about her. “You like the full moon?”

“Mm.” Chi Xiaoman nodded.

After looking up for a bit longer, she winked playfully at Chen Tong across the seesaw. “Sister Chen Tong, hurry up and ask me why.”

Chen Tong laughed. “Then why?”

Chi Xiaoman was delighted.

But for some reason, the next second she caught Chen Tong’s expression, as if she were genuinely listening, and suddenly felt a little shy. She pressed her lips together, her voice dropping without her meaning to.

“Because the ‘man’ in full moon is the same ‘man’ in Chi Xiaoman.”

“Oh, I see.” Chen Tong didn’t treat her answer lightly just because she’d said it so softly. “Mm, I understand now.”

Then she looked up again.

She gazed at the full moon in the sky and repeated gently, “So the ‘man’ in full moon is the ‘man’ in Chi Xiaoman.”

“Mm—actually…” Maybe Chen Tong was too cooperative, which only made Chi Xiaoman feel even more embarrassed.

Thinking it over carefully, she looked at the pure, complete moon overhead and curved her eyes.

“Actually, it’s also because the full moon means reunion.”

Maybe she’d stared at it too long; her eyes started to ache.

She lowered her face and rubbed them, only to see Chen Tong looking at her. She didn’t even know how long Chen Tong had been watching.

Feeling terribly shy, she said, “Who doesn’t like reunion?”

Then she realized Chen Tong was still looking at her.

So she pressed her lips together. “Sister Chen Tong, why are you always looking at me too?”

“You’re pretty.”

Whether it was intentional or not, Chen Tong copied her tone and even curved her eyes like she had.

Chi Xiaoman pressed her lips together and said nothing, suddenly unsure what to do with the stick in her hand.

She wanted to object forcefully—don’t copy me!

But all she managed was a muffled complaint:

“Sister Chen Tong, don’t copy the way I talk.”

The words were out before Chi Xiaoman even had time to be frightened—

Why did she sound like that?

And why did she have to add “Sister Chen Tong”? Being sweet wasn’t supposed to sound like that, was it?

Chen Tong was startled too.

But she reacted quickly.

She lowered her head and laughed.

Maybe because they were a bit far apart.

Maybe because one of them was sitting higher and the other lower.

Her laughter blurred into the moonlight, like a veil and like a breeze.

Chi Xiaoman blushed so hard she nearly burst.

She grabbed the stick and wanted to jump off the seesaw.

But then.

Chen Tong finished laughing.

She looked up at her, the smile in her eyes spreading through that summer night like the syrupy sweetness left on her hand; it made even Chi Xiaoman’s palms and breathing feel sticky.

“Xiaoman, you’re really beautiful.”

-

That night, Chi Xiaoman’s hot face and burning ears were finally saved by Lang Lang.

While Chi Xiaoman was still dazed from that sentence, Lang Lang’s voice came from the slide.

“Xiaoman! Chen Tong!”

The sticky standoff broke. The two of them looked up toward Lang Lang on the slide together—

Lang Lang was holding the DV pointed at them, as if she’d been filming for a while already. “What are you two doing?”

Only then did she wave at them, lowering her voice to call, “Hurry up here!”

Seeing that DV aimed their way, Chi Xiaoman first looked at Chen Tong across the seesaw. After carefully observing her for a while and not seeing any sign of discomfort on her face, she finally let out a breath. “Let’s go. We should go find her.”

Chen Tong looked at her then too.

Then she smiled.

It looked like she was about to stand up and help steady the seesaw so Chi Xiaoman could get down.

But Chi Xiaoman was fiery and impulsive then.

Without waiting for Chen Tong to stand—

The moment the other woman gasped, “Careful,” she jumped down on her own.

And landed safely.

Realizing she might have been too rash, and maybe even a little silly, Chi Xiaoman turned back.

A little embarrassed, she explained to Chen Tong, “I’m used to it.”

“This habit might not be very good.” Chen Tong seemed startled by her slightly dangerous move; the small crease between her brows didn’t ease. “Do you come here often?”

“Because Lang Lang lives over here, I come often.”

Chi Xiaoman explained.

“Every time I come, I sit here for a long time before going back.”

After saying that, she waited a while.

Seeing that Chen Tong only quietly followed beside her and didn’t ask why, she touched her nose and took the initiative to explain, “Because I never had a chance to sit on these things when I was little, so now that I’m grown up, I’m kind of greedy.”

Chen Tong didn’t speak.

After coming to Beijing, Chi Xiaoman had actually faced this situation many times—

She was born in a county town.

From elementary school through middle school, she’d been in the countryside; she rarely even went into the city. She hadn’t seen much of the world, had never ridden the playground equipment every residential compound seemed to have, and had never eaten the McDonald’s and KFC that were everywhere.

Of course, even now she rarely ate them.

And yet this was the kind of person she was, making a star’s dream in the cracks of this city.

Before, some classmates from directing and writing had tried to talk her out of it.

They said she wasn’t professionally trained, had no connections, and hadn’t seen the world at all; how could she become an actress?

How could she act out a life she’d never experienced?

Chi Xiaoman thought they were right. Every time she heard that, she smiled and said she agreed; but the next day, or sometimes before the next day even arrived, she’d sling her bag over her back, rush to catch a bus, and go to the next production crew to be an extra for one day, with no pay—only “a chance to observe.”

Later, nobody bothered to advise her kindly anymore. Later, whenever anyone saw her, they’d shake their heads and say she spent her days dreaming about unrealistic things, wasting her youth and wasting her time.

Later.

When they saw Chi Xiaoman running around every day borrowing equipment to film assignments, they’d respond with silence.

Chi Xiaoman understood that borrowing was kindness, was goodwill; not lending… that was understandable too. So she wasn’t sad.

She also wouldn’t feel too ashamed when everyone fell silent after hearing about her difficulties.

So when Chen Tong fell silent too.

Chi Xiaoman thought she had brought up the fact that she’d never sat on these playground things as a child and made Chen Tong unsure how to respond, and she instinctively tried to change the subject. “Actually—”

But the next second, Chen Tong spoke.

Her voice was soft and gentle.

“Then you still have to be careful.”

There was nothing especially remarkable about the words.

But when silence could have swallowed the whole thing, she still chose to answer; that alone was special enough.

So Chi Xiaoman couldn’t help feeling surprised. At that moment, she turned and met Chen Tong’s gentle eyes—and couldn’t help smiling.

Then, like an ordinary child getting scolded by an older sister for being too playful, she nodded hard and said,

“Okay.”

-

From the seesaw to the slide.

It was a very short distance.

But it took them a long time to walk it.

In the end, though, they walked all the way with smiles on their faces. Even they didn’t know why that night felt so happy.

Of course.

When they climbed up the slide and squeezed side by side with Lang Lang, who’d been waiting for them there,

Lang Lang had been waiting by herself for a long time.

So she pointed the DV at them and complained, “It’s such a short walk. Why did it take you so long?”

The space at the top of the slide wasn’t big.

But all three of them were slim, so they could barely squeeze together.

Afraid Chen Tong would feel awkward in the middle, Chi Xiaoman took the middle spot herself; it was the tightest and hottest position.

Chen Tong was on her left, Lang Lang on her right, and overhead was the full moon, so close it felt within reach.

She was very happy.

But she didn’t get carried away.

Careful not to cross Chen Tong’s boundaries, she instinctively shifted her weight toward Lang Lang.

Chen Tong noticed the movement and said nothing.

But Lang Lang—

As if she’d been squeezed too much,

“Chi Xiaoman! There’s so much room over there, why do you always keep squeezing toward me!”

As soon as she said it,

Lang Lang glanced to her left.

Only then did she notice there was still a lot of empty space beside her.

Her face changed at once. Without another word, she shoved Chi Xiaoman over. “Chi Xiaoman, do you want to roast me alive?”

With that push—

Chi Xiaoman lost control and tipped backward a little; soft warmth brushed her shoulder.

She felt herself bump into Chen Tong and panicked immediately, turning back to say, “Sorry, sorry!”

Then she bared her teeth and was about to settle the score with Lang Lang.

Lang Lang refused to back down and nearly fought her.

But after watching them bicker for a while,

Chen Tong finally laughed helplessly and said, “Move a little closer to me.”

Her voice was very soft.

Yet it stopped the noisy Chi Xiaoman so easily.

“Huh?” Lang Lang said.

Seeing her suddenly stop moving, she subconsciously pushed her again. “Go over there.”

“Got it.” Chi Xiaoman told Lang Lang.

She suddenly became like a robot following instructions, needing to carry them out step by step—

She pouted, slowly drew her hands back, tucked her shoulders in tight, rubbed her hot ears, turned her face, and looked cautiously at Chen Tong and the empty space between them.

“Then I’ll move over a bit?” she asked tentatively.

“Mm, it’s fine.” Chen Tong let her come over, and also scooted a little farther to the side. “There’s still plenty of room here.”

Now there was even more space.

Only then did Chi Xiaoman relax, lifting herself and sliding a little toward Chen Tong; but she only moved about two or three centimeters.

Then she stopped very carefully, staring at her black canvas shoes dangling in the air, and said, “That’s enough, that’s enough.”

“Okay.” Chen Tong agreed, and said nothing else.

She was a very quiet person.

But her presence was stronger than Lang Lang’s on the right, who kept making odd “eh?” sounds over and over.

Maybe because in weather this hot, there wasn’t a trace of sweat on her at all; instead there was only that faint scent of hair—

A fragrance Chi Xiaoman had never used shampoo for, a smell she couldn’t precisely describe because she hadn’t seen enough of the world.

Maybe it was some kind of floral scent, flowers not common in summer; flowers not common in any season of Chi Xiaoman’s life.

It also made Chi Xiaoman too afraid to get too close.

But Lang Lang kept going “eh?” beside her.

At last, as if she’d thought of something,

she lifted the DV and pointed it at them. Very earnestly, she said,

“I think you two need a getting-to-know-each-other game.”

Chi Xiaoman wasn’t very surprised by Lang Lang’s wandering thoughts. But sitting up so high, with Chen Tong’s hair faintly drifting down to brush her cheek in the wind—

She felt restless and uneasy, yet also thought she might just be a little afraid of heights. Wanting to distract herself, she tried hard to look into the DV lens and bring up the topic.

“Besides writing her own scripts, Lang Lang also works as a game writer for a variety show.”

“Just some local low-budget show; it’s not that famous,” Lang Lang explained.

Then she moved the DV away from Chi Xiaoman’s focused gaze and aimed it at Chen Tong behind her shoulder. Suddenly, she let out an exaggerated “wow.” “Chen Tong, you’re gorgeous.”

Chen Tong laughed softly behind her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Chi Xiaoman, with her head down and fingers braced against the slide, suddenly felt a little unconvinced—it had been her who said it first.

But she didn’t hold onto that thought too tightly.

She worked hard to squeeze her own face into the frame and asked Lang Lang,

“So what’s the getting-to-know-each-other game?”

“Oh right.” Since she was about to explain, Lang Lang turned the lens toward herself, straightened her messy hair while speaking, and said, “I just saw this today. The three of us each say two sentences; one truth, one lie. The other two have to guess which one is true and which one is false.”

“Since you two just became roommates today, each of you can say two things about yourselves so the other person can get to know you.”

Very simple rules.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t object.

She instinctively turned to look at Chen Tong.

But because they were so close—too close—

The moment she turned her face, Chen Tong’s face was right in front of her.

Then, in the next second, she turned back very stiffly.

The second after that, she felt that reaction was too stupid and might upset her new roommate.

So she steeled herself and turned back again.

Looking at Chen Tong’s face so close, she held her breath and said, “Sister Chen Tong, what do you think?”

“Sure.” Chen Tong didn’t object.

And at that moment she looked at her too.

Her eyes were very near, and so much smile spilled out of them. “Do you want to go first?”

“I’m fine either way.” Chi Xiaoman felt like it was too hot tonight, making her heart race.

Maybe she’d have to go to the hospital tomorrow and get checked.

No idea how much that would cost—she thought gloomily, and then, in a hurry, looked at Lang Lang. “What about you?”

“Me too?” Lang Lang sounded a little reluctant. “Fine, I’ll go first.”

As she spoke,

she turned the DV that had been pointed at them back onto herself and thought for a moment.

Then she seemed to remember something, lifted her chin, and said,

“I am the greatest screenwriter in the world, Lang Lang, and in the future I’ll create the greatest film work in the world.”

“That’s the truth,” Chi Xiaoman added softly from the side.

“Then the second sentence?” Chen Tong smiled.

“The second sentence—” Lang Lang rolled her eyes. After a few seconds, she put on a particularly heartbroken expression.

“Actually, I have a rare inherited genetic disease, and there’s a thirty percent chance I won’t live to be thirty—”

Before she could finish,

Chi Xiaoman hurried to cover her mouth.

Then she said angrily,

“Pah pah pah pah pah pah pah—if you’re going to say something false, don’t use something like that to curse yourself.”

“All right, all right.” Lang Lang sighed and pointed the DV at her. “Then it’s your turn.”

“You have to say pah pah pah pah pah pah first.” Chi Xiaoman insisted.

“All right, pah pah pah pah pah pah—” Lang Lang followed her and spat a few times, then asked again, “Now can you say it?”

“That’s more like it.” Chi Xiaoman let out a breath, then looked into the tiny lens.

She rarely got the chance to be this close to a camera.

And even more rarely got the chance to be in the center of it.

So every time.

Lang Lang filmed her with that old DV.

She became especially serious.

This time was no exception.

She pressed her lips together and thought for a while.

Then she slowed her speech and lowered her voice, which always tended to rise without warning. Hesitantly, she said,

“Actually, my mother is a very famous actress. I want to be an actress because of her.”

The words fell.

Chi Xiaoman’s jaw tightened with tension.

She waited for the two of them to respond.

But no one moved. Both of them kept the same posture and expression they’d had before she spoke.

Chi Xiaoman grew uneasy and was about to ask why neither of them was saying anything.

Then the next second.

Chen Tong suddenly asked, “Then what’s the second sentence?”

So Chi Xiaoman stared at the dark lens, and the words that came out of her mouth became, “My name is Chi Xiaoman because I was born one day after the Beginning of Summer.”

Once that was said.

Which was true and which was false seemed very obvious.

Lang Lang let out a long breath and patted her chest in relief. “You scared me to death.”

“Why were you scared to death?” Chi Xiaoman thought it was strange.

She was the one asking the question.

But Lang Lang didn’t look at her first. Instead, she first met Chen Tong’s eyes behind her, her expression unusually complicated, as if she were sad about something.

But in the end.

She still smiled at Chi Xiaoman and said in a joking tone,

“If your mom really is that amazing, wouldn’t I regret not treating you better usually?”

Back then, Chi Xiaoman couldn’t read that exchange of looks between Lang Lang and Chen Tong. But a very, very long time later.

When she remembered this and asked Lang Lang about it,

By then Lang Lang probably no longer wanted to lie to her. After a long silence, she smiled and answered—

Because we were afraid there was a story in there that we didn’t know. Because we were afraid you really were that stupid, getting tricked not only by people outside, but by your own mother too.

But in that moment.

Chi Xiaoman couldn’t see, in that single glance between Lang Lang and Chen Tong, the older women’s tenderness and careful protection for her.

Because the twenty-year-old Chi Xiaoman really wasn’t good at reading the room. After that, she nodded and accepted Lang Lang’s answer, scratching her chin.

“All right.”

“Then what about you, Sister Chen Tong?”

Openly and aboveboard, she turned to look at Chen Tong, also sliding her face a little to the side to make room for her.

“Is it my turn?” Chen Tong thought for a moment, looked at her, then at the DV, perhaps considering what to say that would let Chi Xiaoman know her better—after all, this was also a rather special self-introduction.

In the end.

She modestly gave the name of the university she’d graduated from.

That left Chi Xiaoman and Lang Lang speechless for a long moment.

One sat frozen, blinking in a daze.

The other held the DV and didn’t dare show her face for a long while.

Then.

Chen Tong seemed to guess they’d react like that.

She smiled.

Then, with a slightly playful blink, she said her previous job—

A high-paying, glamorous one, the kind that absolutely would never require sharing a cheap rented room with Chi Xiaoman, and should have had her wearing a suit and gold-rimmed glasses, striding through Wall Street.

Two facts.

One true, one false.

Chi Xiaoman and Lang Lang leaned together, pretending to study it for a long time on the red slide. In the end, they reached their conclusion.

Both of them nodded vigorously.

Looking at Chen Tong beside them, they gave a thumbs-up in unison and said,

“So you’re an elite student!”

Chen Tong laughed until she nearly couldn’t breathe.

That was probably the happiest, most unrestrained laugh she had that entire night.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t know what Chen Tong had gone through as that “elite student” to end up renting the same house as her. But fortunately, back then she was silly and innocent, always forgetting to think about the very distant future.

So.

When she looked at Chen Tong laughing so happily, her eyes narrowing into crescents,

she laughed too.

Lang Lang, holding the DV at the side, filmed them for a while, then put the camera away and muttered, “Chi Xiaoman, something is very wrong with you.”

But maybe because she was laughing too hard.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t hear that sentence. Or if she did, she would only have nodded in agreement and sighed very gloomily—yes, I think so too. I might need to go to the hospital tomorrow.

But because she hadn’t heard it.

She simply laughed along with Chen Tong.

And because the first night on Xingfu Road was already so happy, she began to have many simple, good fantasies about the future.

-

That night ended with a getting-to-know-each-other game in which everyone silently accepted the answer.

Afterward.

Lang Lang yawned her way back to the building across the way, waved at them, and before long turned off the lights.

As for Chi Xiaoman and Chen Tong.

They also decided to make up their beds, take a shower, and sort out the rest tomorrow when they had time.

The underground garage wasn’t big.

With two foldable single beds set up,

it already took up most of the space.

Add to that the luggage scattered around on the floor.

And Chi Xiaoman felt like they were two spiders who had moved from some faraway place and could only stay in this dim world; yet even on this night, they had secretly resolved to work hard and weave many colorful webs in this world.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering.

Chen Tong was a high-achiever she could hardly imagine having any connection to her.

Why had she gone to work on a crew as a production assistant?

And why had she moved here with her?

But questions were just questions in the end.

That kind of thing concerned privacy; it wasn’t really appropriate to ask.

So that night.

Facing the wall, with Chen Tong on the other small bed behind her, Chi Xiaoman hugged herself tensely and thought about whether Wang Aimei had ever told her she slept so badly she might wander into other people’s beds in her sleep...

“Smack—”

A slap.

Missed the mosquito.

Chi Xiaoman bared her teeth and scratched the mosquito bite on her calf.

Then she thought—

Would Chen Tong get bitten too?

That thought made her instantly nervous.

She also remembered there were still a few mosquito coils among the things she’d brought.

She really did get up.

Rustling, she climbed out of bed.

In the dark, she searched.

She’d already kept her movements very light, but she didn’t expect Chen Tong to speak anyway. “Did a mosquito bite you?”

Her voice sounded perfectly awake.

She probably hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Mm.”

Chi Xiaoman kept her voice low. “You sleep first; I’m going to find a mosquito coil and light it.”

“Okay.” Chen Tong said that.

But she still rolled over to look for her phone.

She turned on the flashlight and lit up the narrow path between all the luggage for her.

The view went from pitch-black to lit.

Chi Xiaoman subconsciously turned back.

She didn’t see Chen Tong’s face clearly.

She only saw Chen Tong’s long black hair in the light, each strand illuminated by the flashlight and seeming to glitter. Like spider silk; beautiful, shimmering spider silk. Also like something else even more precious and luminous.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t look for long.

Then she turned back.

Holding her uncomfortable heart.

Terrified she really had developed heart disease.

But she didn’t dare say it.

If you said you were sick, it became real—this was a famous line from Madam Wang Aimei.

Chi Xiaoman remembered it to this day.

So she kept her mouth shut and went looking for the mosquito coil with a troubled face.

After searching for a while.

She found a broken half-stick.

She didn’t dare let Chen Tong keep holding the flashlight for her.

So she pressed her lips together and used the little oil left in the lighter to barely coax out a spark.

She placed it farther away from the bed and the luggage, beneath the gap under the roll-up door.

Then ran back.

She flopped onto the bed, yawned anxiously, and told Chen Tong, “Sister Chen Tong, I’ll get up and put it out before I go back to sleep later, so you can sleep in peace.”

“Mm, okay.”

Maybe because it was late at night.

Chen Tong’s voice had deepened a little too, sounding somewhat...

Mushy?

Chi Xiaoman found that strange.

But she didn’t know how to describe the feeling.

And she was afraid that if she didn’t sleep soon, she’d really have a heart attack tomorrow.

So she set a ten-minute countdown alarm.

Forced herself to close her eyes and count down ten minutes, not to think too much.

“Xiaoman.”

But just as her heartbeat finally quieted down, Chen Tong’s soft, gentle voice came again. “Are you asleep?”

Chi Xiaoman let out a breath, feeling very hot, and also worried Chen Tong might be hot too, so she said softly,

“No.”

“Sister Chen Tong, are you very hot?”

“No.” Chen Tong’s voice floated over from behind her. “I’m not very sensitive to heat.”

It was still that feeling again. Like many tiny hairs were sticking to her body, making her itchy, making her throat feel blocked, and making her remember the reactions Lang Lang got during allergies. Was she having an allergy?

Chi Xiaoman touched her throat and didn’t feel any swelling, so she finally relaxed enough to say,

“Sister Chen Tong, don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll tidy this place up and buy a fan.”

“Okay.” In the dark, Chen Tong’s voice remained gentle. “I’ll go with you.”

“Then I’ll come pick you up when I get off work.”

Chi Xiaoman said.

Then, a little proudly, she emphasized, “In the future, whenever I have time, I can come pick you up after work.”

Chen Tong didn’t laugh at her for sounding proud; she only said “okay” softly before slowly asking, “Xiaoman, actually, there’s something I really want to ask you.”

“What is it?”

Chi Xiaoman felt hotter and hotter the more she tried to sleep, to the point where she wished she could run out and buy a fan right now.

So she simply turned over.

And faced Chen Tong on the other side directly.

In the dim light, she could faintly see the woman’s black hair spilling down from the edge of the bed.

And smell it again.

That unforgettable floral scent on Chen Tong’s body.

Her movement was quick.

Chen Tong seemed not to have reacted in time either; she froze for a moment.

Then suddenly smiled.

“Actually, it’s nothing.”

In the dark, she looked at Chi Xiaoman and smiled for a long time—almost as if Chi Xiaoman had rooted in her smile point, making her unable to stop smiling the moment she looked at her; it also made the edges of those originally melancholy eyes keep curving upward, and the emotions like water and mist flowed into Chi Xiaoman’s eyes.

And Chen Tong seemed genuinely curious; her voice was very soft, very soft amid the sounds of cars outside the garage.

“I just want to know why you want to be an actress so much.”

[Author’s Note]

Updating Little Neon on time for its twenty-sixth day [sunglasses]

Inviting everyone to watch our full moon of Man Yue [glasses]