2023

This line was truly ambiguous in meaning.

It sounded like a complete affirmation and agreement, but Chen Yue’s expression didn’t seem nearly that pleased.

What confused Chi Xiaoman even more was that Chen Yue didn’t offer much explanation that night.

After she finished speaking, as if she hadn’t seen the bewildered look on Chi Xiaoman’s face, she gave her a faint smile.

“It’s very late, Xiaoman. Let’s go back.”

After that, the two of them didn’t say much on the way back. It was only when they reached the door to their rooms that Chi Xiaoman realized, without even noticing, she had walked all the way to Chen Yue’s room with her canvas bag in her arms.

And all the way there, Chen Yue never pointed it out.

So she became the one watching Chen Yue go into her room; and when she saw Chen Yue turn around, saw her slender back, she couldn’t help calling out, “Chen Yue.”

Before Chen Yue could turn back, she tightened her fingers and spoke first.

“You’ve worked hard these past few days. Get a good sleep.”

It had almost become their parting line every day. Because they truly wanted the other person to sleep well.

And then Chen Yue paused for a moment before turning back. She smiled at her and nodded.

“Okay. You too.”

-

After the main opening stretch was over,

Neon’s filming settled into a steady rhythm.

The remaining rental-house scenes were mostly simple, warm slices of life.

The difficulty wasn’t high, and progress moved faster than expected.

It was near the end of mid-October, late one night after wrapping, when Shen Baozhi suddenly knocked on Chi Xiaoman’s little chat window and asked her:

【Is Teacher Chen’s birthday coming up soon?】

Chi Xiaoman was still in a meeting with the cinematography team at the time, discussing changes to the shot list. When she saw the message,

she froze for a few seconds, then took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and typed back:

【Yes, the second day of the ninth lunar month. She follows the lunar calendar.】

【Lunar calendar?】 Shen Baozhi seemed surprised. 【But her profile says October 19th, doesn’t it?】

The second day of the ninth lunar month in 1990 was October 19th.

Chi Xiaoman typed out that line slowly.

After thinking about it, she deleted it and changed it to:

【Maybe I remembered wrong.】

【It’s okay; maybe you’ve just been too busy.】 Shen Baozhi gave her a good excuse. 【Then should we properly celebrate Teacher Chen on October 19th?】

Chi Xiaoman only saw those two replies after the meeting ended. By then it was very late. She took off her glasses again, stood by the window to get some air, then replied to Shen Baozhi:

【Okay.】

【But Teacher Chen probably doesn’t like anything too elaborate, so keeping it a little simple should be fine.】

【But we definitely have to buy a cake.】

She said that to Shen Baozhi; but after sending those three messages, she looked out at the night beyond the hotel for a long time, then hesitantly sent another one:

【Why don’t you ask your mami instead? I’m not too sure.】

【Not too sure about what?】 Shen Baozhi asked.

【Not too sure how Teacher Chen Yue likes to spend her birthday now.】 Chi Xiaoman replied.

Because I’ve only actually spent one birthday with her.

And now it feels like I don’t know her that well anymore.

She didn’t send that last sentence.

And Shen Baozhi didn’t ask further. She replied:

【Okay, then I’ll go rub my mami’s shoulders for her.】

Chi Xiaoman laughed out loud.

She followed with:

【Baozhi, you always make your mami sound so fierce. You’re making me a little afraid of her.】

【No, my mami is just relatively strict.】

Shen Baozhi replied, then asked along the same line: 【Then is your mami fierce or not fierce, Xiaoman?】

Her fingers hovered above the screen.

After a moment, Chi Xiaoman slowly typed back:

【I think she should be very good.】

After sending that, Chi Xiaoman didn’t continue chatting with Shen Baozhi.

She opened her phone calendar, found the second day of the ninth lunar month in October, and saw that this year it fell on the 16th, three days earlier than the 19th.

That made her hesitate a lot.

Since Chen Yue’s publicly announced birthday was October 19th, that meant she probably didn’t want her lunar birthday made public.

The crew celebrating Chen Yue’s birthday on October 19th was correct.

But what about Chi Xiaoman?

On the 16th itself, should she pretend she didn’t know anything, as if she had completely forgotten that brief past?

Or should she openly say happy birthday to Chen Yue too?

And then... should she prepare a birthday present?

What gift would be appropriate?

Too expensive, and Chen Yue might not accept it.

Too cheap, and it would be embarrassing to give.

Too thoughtful, and it might seem like she had ulterior motives.

Too careless, and it would seem perfunctory.

Not to mention... the current Chen Yue probably already had everything; even if she wanted something, couldn’t she just buy it herself?

Chi Xiaoman was stumped by this matter, to the point that every day she carried her canvas bag back and forth across the set, and even the little fish keychain hanging from it gave her trouble.

So one day after wrapping, she decided to ask Shen Baozhi for advice:

【Baozhi, what are you planning to give Teacher Chen for her birthday?】

【Gold.】 Shen Baozhi’s answer was plain and simple.

That was certainly practical.

Too bad that option had already been claimed by Shen Baozhi.

Chi Xiaoman couldn’t use it anymore.

【But Xiaoman, my mami said...】 Shen Baozhi sent again. 【Teacher Chen doesn’t seem to like birthday cakes. Every year on her birthday, she specifically tells people she doesn’t need one.】

Chi Xiaoman’s typing paused.

Her fingers curled back uncontrollably, pinching her palm. After a long while, she replied:

【Okay.】

【Then should we still order a cake for her?】 Shen Baozhi asked.

【Probably not.】

Chi Xiaoman was quiet for a long time before slowly replying:

【Then let’s leave the cake out. Keep the flowers and the congratulatory video.】

She quickly added:

【Is that okay?】

【Okay.】 Shen Baozhi answered briskly.

The phone didn’t vibrate again. The room fell quiet.

Chi Xiaoman pushed the window open, lowered her eyes, and stood in the autumn night breeze for a while; then she gathered herself and continued organizing tomorrow’s shooting details.

As for the fact that Chen Yue didn’t like birthday cakes...

She couldn’t deny that she felt a sudden sadness over how things had changed, but after thinking it through, she still believed it was right to have Shen Baozhi ask Chen Yue’s manager. Even more, she was relieved she hadn’t assumed too much.

-

Day by day, as they kept confirming Chen Yue’s birthday preferences and worked from early morning until late at night, the 16th drew closer and closer.

And on the 16th itself, Chi Xiaoman’s week-long struggle over whether to pretend she had forgotten Chen Yue’s lunar birthday was officially ruled invalid.

Because Chen Yue had a schedule that day; it was already on the call sheet confirmed before filming began—

she had an important television interview in Beijing.

It was just that Chi Xiaoman had too many things to handle recently, and whenever she had a moment, she’d be torn up inside over what gift to give, so she hadn’t gotten around to checking Chen Yue’s schedule.

Only two days before,

she finally noticed that the day’s shooting plan was packed with only her own scenes.

Chen Yue didn’t appear on set that entire day.

And Chi Xiaoman was busy filming Xiaoyu’s scenes alone; it was also an especially draining emotional scene—

In the script, the two of them had originally agreed to send Liu Shu back to her hometown together. But on the way to the station, Liu Shu suddenly grabbed her luggage, climbed onto a tricycle, and left Xiaoyu behind in place, still dragging two suitcases full of luggage downstairs with all her strength.

When Xiaoyu got downstairs and turned around, she realized the person was gone. She hurriedly dropped the luggage, got onto another tricycle, chased after her, found Liu Shu, and then, without saying a word, followed her all the way. In the end, she jumped onto the same bus as her, not knowing where it was headed.

Finally, she sat down opposite her, and when Liu Shu looked up and saw her, she broke into a grin.

This was Liu Shu’s first attempt to abandon Xiaoyu. It was also Xiaoyu’s first time finding her.

There would be seven more after that.

Most people probably wouldn’t understand what these two were doing. They wouldn’t understand why Liu Shu kept running away again and again after making a promise, nor why Xiaoyu kept going to look for her after being left behind again and again.

At first, Chi Xiaoman didn’t understand either.

But Lang Lang had told her: because this was one way to make Liu Shu’s final three months of life brighter and more intense, and also to make them linger longer in Xiaoyu’s memory.

Liu Shu herself knew the behavior was strange.

Xiaoyu understood Liu Shu’s pain, but was still willing to go along with her.

Actually, although these two seemed different, at their core they were the same; they burned with the same idealism, preferring pain and resistance over numbness and emptiness.

Lang Lang had also told her—

In fact, the title Neon was chosen very well, because this final three-month journey might be painful, might have many tears, arguments, and ugliness, might not be special enough... but all of that was the unforgettable neon glow cast by these two ordinary, plain, yet brilliant lives at the moment of parting.

This scene mainly filmed Xiaoyu’s solo sequence of following Liu Shu to the bus station; the location wasn’t the rental house, but the station they had managed to borrow for the shoot.

That day, Chi Xiaoman barely left the set, trying to use one day to finish as many of the location shots for the solo scenes as possible.

They filmed from before dawn until deep into the night.

By evening, after Chi Xiaoman had confirmed all the shots and confirmed wrap, she was only leaning against the car for support, hiding from some road traffic as she took a sip of water. She realized it was cold, cold all the way down to her stomach, and only then did she suddenly think—

Had Chen Yue gone back to the hotel?

It couldn’t have been an all-day interview, right?

But knowing Chen Yue’s personality, even if it were her birthday, she would still put work first; maybe she still hadn’t rested at all.

Chi Xiaoman gripped the cold water bottle, was silent for a second, and then thought—probably she was assuming too much again.

She drank a few mouthfuls of water, patted her own face, and warned herself not to keep thinking she understood Chen Yue well enough.

But before she could fully gather herself to return to the hotel, Shen Baozhi, walking over in silence, adjusted her glasses and looked at her with some concern, as if wanting to say something but hesitating.

“What’s wrong?” Chi Xiaoman thought her face looked off.

“Director Xiaoman.” Shen Baozhi pressed her lips together; she looked very troubled, but in the end, after meeting her eyes, she seemed to have no choice and still said it. “I’m telling you something, but you absolutely can’t say I told you.”

“What happened?” Chi Xiaoman sensed something was wrong and tightened the water bottle in her hand.

“It’s just...”

In the sub-10-degree weather, sweat had broken out on Shen Baozhi’s forehead. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped it away.

“Actually, Teacher Chen’s car got blocked.”

“What do you mean?” Chi Xiaoman froze. The water bottle she had clenched tightened again; the cap pressed painfully into the heel of her hand. “Who blocked her all of a sudden? Why would they block her?”

“Xiaoman, don’t panic yet.” After she fired off several questions at once, Shen Baozhi still looked hesitant.

“Don’t worry first; Teacher Chen said she wasn’t injured. But her interview only just ended.”

“It was just that her car was rear-ended, and got hit a bit...”

As she spoke, fearing Chi Xiaoman would get too anxious, Shen Baozhi watched her face. Chi Xiaoman hadn’t rested much all day; she’d been rushing through the morning scenes from early morning until now, and her condition was already very poor.

But hearing this, Chi Xiaoman’s face went even paler. Maybe trying hard to listen to her finish, she kept squeezing the completely flattened water bottle in her hand until her knuckles turned white.

That made Shen Baozhi lower her voice even more, afraid of frightening her. “Actually, it’s not a major problem. My mami has already contacted people to handle it...”

“Where is she?” Chi Xiaoman suddenly cut her off. The water bottle in her hand gave a creak at the same time.

Shen Baozhi didn’t react in time.

Under the night sky, Chi Xiaoman lifted her drooping lashes to look at her; her lips moved, as if she wanted to raise a hand, but she didn’t.

“Her...”

Realizing she had made a meaningless motion, Chi Xiaoman seemed to force herself to issue some kind of command to keep her brain moving. Her face was pale, her hair whipped into disarray by the cold wind, but she still enunciated each word clearly as she asked, “Baozhi, do you know where she is now?”

“Still near the TV station,” Shen Baozhi said instinctively.

“Okay.” Chi Xiaoman nodded stiffly. She had already turned to leave, but when she saw the white breath she exhaled into the air, she took a deep breath, turned back, and asked softly,

“Baozhi, did you drive here?”

Shen Baozhi handed her the keys.

Chi Xiaoman said “thank you” in a low voice, then walked off on her own. Shen Baozhi stood where she was. At first, it was clear Chi Xiaoman was walking with forced steadiness; later, she became more and more hurried, going from three steps to two, her pace quickening until she was running.

Under the late-night streetlights, her figure gradually blurred on the set, leaving only the pale edge of her clothes and her ears reddened by the cold wind.

“Where is Director Xiaoman going?” one of the crew members who saw her leaving asked, standing there with a look of astonishment. “How is she still running like that from before dawn until now?”

“Don’t know.”

Shen Baozhi shook her head, then forwarded Chen Yue’s location to Chi Xiaoman.

Even though their chat history still contained what Chen Yue had specially sent her:

【Baozhi, something small happened to me. I’m not injured, but I probably won’t be able to go back today.】

【If possible, please don’t let Xiaoman look at her phone before I get back.】

-

It was impossible to imagine what exactly had happened for Chen Yue to be chased on the road after her interview, and then blocked in traffic.

Chi Xiaoman ran out of the set, her face bloodless, and ran for a long time before she found Shen Baozhi’s car—a rather conspicuous red sports car. Since Shen Baozhi needed to drive around a lot in Beijing, she had simply rented a car for the trip.

By then, Chi Xiaoman had already been wearing her costume and searching the surrounding area for a long time. The cold autumn wind cut across her face like many blades, and her throat felt as if she had swallowed a bundle of needles, leaving a rusty metallic taste.

Chi Xiaoman lowered her head and stepped on her own shadow as she quickly got into the car. Once the car started moving, it was only when she gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands that she realized how cold she was; goosebumps rose all over her body. Only then did she notice she was wearing just Xiaoyu’s T-shirt, thin and short-sleeved, and that she hadn’t brought a mask, a hat... nothing at all.

But she couldn’t care about any of that. She drove toward the destination Shen Baozhi had sent at the fastest speed possible.

Less than half an hour.

She arrived at the location Shen Baozhi had sent.

But maybe the GPS was wrong, because Chi Xiaoman didn’t find any cars or any sign of people blocked there.

Half an hour was already a long time; the roads in the middle of the night were empty. Chi Xiaoman’s mind was sluggish. She gripped the steering wheel and sat there blankly for a while. She didn’t know if she had come too late. If Chen Yue’s manager had already arranged for someone to take her away, then she should be relieved.

Just in case, she sent a WeChat message to Shen Baozhi to ask, but didn’t get a reply for the moment. So she took another deep breath and still drove around looking for her, afraid the blockage might be at some intersection the location hadn’t picked up. She drove into every small, dim intersection she passed.

There were a lot of narrow roads around the TV station.

She searched several streets.

Finally, in one alley, Chi Xiaoman spotted what looked like a group of people blocking the road on the opposite side.

The alley entrance was too narrow; the car couldn’t get through.

She didn’t want to take a detour, and she was afraid forcing the car through would damage Shen Baozhi’s vehicle.

So in a panic, she yanked open the door.

Her hand slipped a bit when she pulled it; it took several tries before she could get it open.

At last she got out of the car.

Chi Xiaoman staggered toward that direction.

There weren’t many people in the alley, but she had done almost nothing to hide her face, just walked openly toward them. So by the time she was almost out of the alley, someone standing by the road there watching the commotion recognized her and looked over.

Chi Xiaoman was anxious, every step heavy with effort. She also worried that if she rushed over like this and it turned out not to be Chen Yue, she would only cause trouble. So she kept her face lowered as much as possible, avoiding those curious stares.

Until she was almost there.

Then someone called out, “Chi Xiaoman, are you looking for Chen Yue?”

Chi Xiaoman looked up in confusion and saw someone following behind her, holding up a phone while pointing her toward the crowd. “She’s over there; a lot of people are blocking her.”

It really was Chen Yue.

Chi Xiaoman’s steps halted.

The night light was hazy.

She forced her vision to focus, trying to look at the crowd and the cars ahead, but suddenly she no longer knew what expression she should wear.

It wasn’t exactly on the main road, but on a side street that hadn’t fully turned in yet. Across the way, two cars were parked one after the other by the roadside, one black and one white. The front of the white one had been crushed inward.

It looked like Chen Yue’s car.

A few scattered people stood around the two cars.

Some were visibly agitated, stationed by the driver’s window; others were sitting by the roadside, urgently discussing something.

The noise was loud, and there were so many people that the car, which should have seemed like a massive object, looked especially small in the middle of it all.

Chen Yue was in that car.

Once she realized that,

Chi Xiaoman suddenly felt the wind turn even colder, like many blades with flames clinging to them were scraping over her eyelids. In her panic, she lowered her eyes to avoid the biting wind, but she still forced her feet forward and walked toward them.

And the person behind her who had been taking pictures moved closer, aiming the phone at her face and telling her the next fact:

“It seems like a lot of her fans want her to leave your movie.”

Chi Xiaoman stumbled.

The toe of her shoe kicked against a hard chunk of road by the curb.

Pain shot up from her toes.

She forced herself to stand steady again.

The wind blew through her loose hair, swept over the fine layer of sweat on her skin. Her face was pale, but she clenched her palm and, to the person taking pictures of her up close, said softly, “Thank you.”

She kept her face lowered.

So the person came along with her.

Very quickly, they said to her, “Chi Xiaoman, can you lift your face and look at the camera? I want to show it to my family.”

When she didn’t answer, they added, “It’d be best if you could smile a little.”

Chi Xiaoman paused.

“I mean, you’re usually pretty fond of smiling, aren’t you—”

The person kept repeating it without letting up. When they still got no reaction from her, they suddenly muttered in a sharp, high voice,

“Now I’m helping you out this much, and smiling at the camera would kill you or something—”

Chi Xiaoman stopped.

She was still a little far away; she could only see the silhouettes of the people gathered around Chen Yue’s car, and couldn’t see Chen Yue inside.

But suddenly she felt lost, not knowing whether she should move forward or stay where she was.

She also didn’t know whether going forward would make things worse or ease them.

So she could only stand blankly and numbly in the cold wind.

She pinched her palm to force herself to calm down, and in her confusion, she remembered the hesitant look on Shen Baozhi’s face just now.

Most likely,

it was because Chen Yue didn’t want her to tell her.

Why was that?

Why would this happen to Chen Yue?

Why rear-end her, then block her here on her birthday?

Was it really because...

The wind picked up. Someone brought a phone close, its flashlight flashing straight into her face, making Chi Xiaoman lower her head and raise a hand to shield her eyes with difficulty.

Because of her?

Was she blocked here because of her?

Because she was bad?

Because she wanted to hurt Chen Yue?

Because she had done some unforgivable thing?

Chi Xiaoman couldn’t make sense of it.

She kept her head down, miserably shielding her eyes, standing in the freezing wind. Her face was hurt by the gusts, and she felt like a fish hauled up onto shore, stripped of its scales piece by piece, the pain making it hard to breathe.

She didn’t understand why things always turned out like this; she didn’t understand why the price she had paid still hadn’t been fully repaid; she didn’t understand why she had clearly run all the way over, unable to stop for even a moment when she heard the news, yet after finding Chen Yue, she still didn’t dare go forward.

“Hey! Chi Xiaoman is here!” someone beside her suddenly shouted.

The sharp, blinding flash of phone lights slashed over like pale knives. In her dazed state, Chi Xiaoman looked up and saw everyone gathered around that car on the other side of the road turn to look at her at once.

Every face carried hostility and wariness toward the name “Chi Xiaoman.”

But strangely, Chi Xiaoman didn’t feel much sadness or embarrassment because of it, as if the people looking at and opposing her were someone else entirely.

She blankly withdrew her hand, withdrew her gaze.

Then she saw once more the person who had just told her this fact and then demanded she smile for the camera—

Maybe because she hadn’t smiled, this person shouted to get back at her. And after successfully drawing everyone’s attention, they lifted their chin and revealed an extremely smug expression.

Chi Xiaoman pressed her lips together tightly.

She closed her eyes.

Exhaled.

And started walking again.

Toward Chen Yue.

Actually, only after getting closer did she realize there weren’t that many people around the front of the car. It was just that each of them looked sharp and hostile, and all of them fixed their gaze on her the moment she approached.

Maybe it was psychological, but the closer Chi Xiaoman got, the more the toe she’d hit earlier seemed to hurt, as if a needle stabbed into her nail with every step.

Then she limped over to the white car.

Facing the pitch-black window, she said softly, “Chen Yue, it’s me.”

One second. Two seconds. The window slowly rolled down, and Chen Yue’s face appeared inside the car. She had just finished the interview; her makeup was exquisite, but she looked exhausted.

She looked at her, her face split into blocks of color by the shadows inside the car and the streetlights outside.

Chi Xiaoman also looked at her and suddenly no longer felt cold in just a T-shirt, as if she couldn’t hear any of the sounds around her either.

Their eyes were separated by the glow and shadow of the streetlights, and by all the surrounding noise.

They looked at each other.

For a long time.

Then Chen Yue slowly opened her mouth. Her voice was so low and blurred by the wind that it was almost hard to hear.

“Xiaoman, are you cold?”

Chi Xiaoman shook her head in the freezing wind. “No.”

Chen Yue didn’t seem to believe her. But she didn’t get out of the car; Chi Xiaoman didn’t know whether it was because she was considering the cameras all around them or because she was injured.

With her eyes lowered, after a long time she said gently, “Xiaoman, go back first. I’ve already asked my manager to handle this.”

Maybe because of the earlier shout about Chi Xiaoman, flashes had started going off more and more frequently around them. Chen Yue tiredly raised a hand to block her eyes, then looked at her for a long time again.

“Baozhi said you filmed all day today, so go back and get some proper sleep first. Don’t worry too much about me, okay?”

“Where’s your assistant?” Chi Xiaoman wasn’t actually insisting on standing here to delay things.

If she could, she wanted to leave here calmly and rationally at this moment, pretend nothing had happened, and drive away in the other empty car parked across from the alley entrance. Then the next day, when Chen Yue came to set and told her everything had been taken care of and she didn’t need to worry, she really wouldn’t worry.

If she were that kind of Chi Xiaoman, would she have spared Chen Yue this trouble? Or would it have been even more?

But she found that she couldn’t move.

And in the car, Chen Yue looked at her, seeming more worried about her than herself. “I told her to go back early before I even finished the interview. She’s had a bit of a cold lately.”

The flashes kept going off. The people around them seemed to grow even more agitated because of Chi Xiaoman’s arrival.

But Chi Xiaoman couldn’t make out a single word; nor did she look at the eyes fixed on her. She looked into Chen Yue’s eyes and asked word by word, “Then are you injured?”

“No.” Chen Yue denied it. Then, as if she were truly worried about her, she said, “Go back quickly. It’s very cold here.”

Chi Xiaoman didn’t speak.

Chen Yue looked at her as if there was nothing she could do.

And several people had already come over, watching Chi Xiaoman with guarded expressions, even seeming like they wanted to drag her away.

So Chen Yue had no choice but to unlock the car for her.

With everyone’s eyes on her back, Chi Xiaoman lowered her face, tucked her head down, and quickly opened the rear door and climbed into the car.

The flashes and many gazes were shut outside.

The temperature inside the car was also low; so low that the moment Chi Xiaoman sat down in the back seat and hunched over, her hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

But there was a difference in sightlines between the front and back.

She tried her best to shrink behind the rear seat so Chen Yue wouldn’t notice she was shaking.

In the end, it became Chen Yue taking care of her instead.

There was a thick, thick seat between them.

Chen Yue probably truly hadn’t noticed Chi Xiaoman’s embarrassment.

She turned on the heat.

Then she took out a blanket and passed it to the back.

Chi Xiaoman reached out to take it and said in a low voice, “Thank you.”

Chen Yue didn’t tell her “you’re welcome.” She was quiet for a long time. Only after the car started warming up did she speak in a soft voice.

“Xiaoman, be good and go back first, okay?”

“Chen Yue, have you already been hurt?” Wrapped in the blanket and hiding behind the seat, Chi Xiaoman lowered her head and asked gently.

Chen Yue didn’t speak.

Chi Xiaoman lifted a hand and, with great effort, wiped the sweat off her face. “Did you call an ambulance?”

“It isn’t a very serious injury. It’s just that after my foot was hit, I twisted it a little.” Chen Yue seemed to find it impossible as well; her voice was very slow as she said, “I’m waiting for my manager to arrange for someone to come handle it.”

“You twisted your foot?” Chi Xiaoman sounded anxious.

Chen Yue fell silent.

Chi Xiaoman could barely see her expression from the back seat, so she had no choice but to move out from behind the seat and strain to lift her head and look forward. “Is it serious?”

Chen Yue paused, then shook her head. “Not serious.”

So Chi Xiaoman stopped and, through the gap between the seats, tried hard to look at her.

“Okay. Okay.”

There were more and more people outside the car. If Chi Xiaoman had any chance of leaving alone just a moment ago, now the outside of the car was practically sealed shut. People outside were shouting Chen Yue’s name, and others were shouting Chi Xiaoman’s. The words that followed weren’t very pleasant, but they all carried the same demand—

Chi Xiaoman was using Chen Yue as a shield, treating her harshly on set and causing her to suffer a lot of injury and criticism during filming. Yet Chi Xiaoman ignored all of that and treated Chen Yue’s side of the demands as if they didn’t exist at all; it was obvious she was using Chen Yue to take the bullets for her.

And Chen Yue ought to be clear-headed, make the most rational decision, step away in time, stop wasting time in this crew, and go shoot better films, films more worthy of being made, to give back to the fans who had always supported her.

As for the wording and tone of these people, Chi Xiaoman couldn’t hear it very clearly either. She had run for a long time and been afraid for a long time. At this moment, she numbly watched the sharp, aggressive expressions on the faces outside the car windows; she only knew these people were agitated, and probably wouldn’t listen to any of her explanations.

And Chi Xiaoman’s own emotions were hard to settle; her mind was hard to focus. If she had brought medicine with her, she probably would have had to swallow several pills now just to barely make herself into someone whose senses worked normally.

Even so.

She still didn’t want Chen Yue to notice how unreliable she still was at this moment, so she stayed silent for a long time, pinched her palm, focused, and tried to fill the empty space in the car.

“Then did you call the police?”

Chen Yue didn’t speak.

“Did you call the police?” Chi Xiaoman thought she hadn’t heard, so she repeated it.

“Xiaoman.” Chen Yue called her name.

Her tone sounded very calm, with the thoughtfulness of someone older. “I’ll have my manager handle it. You don’t need to worry too much.”

“Then even if your manager handles it, you still need to call the police.”

Chi Xiaoman stressed, “You can’t just let this pass.”

Chen Yue paused for a few seconds. Maybe she also sensed that something was wrong with her emotions and didn’t want to argue. So she answered softly, “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

“Chen Yue, things like this need to be reported. If you just handle it quietly, there may be a next time.” Chi Xiaoman continued.

Chen Yue didn’t speak.

The car interior was extremely quiet, while outside seemed like a different world entirely, loud enough to make it feel as if the car contained some person who deserved death, someone who should be dragged out by righteous crowds and publicly flayed.

Chi Xiaoman picked at her fingers, blankly sitting in the gradually warming air for a while. Not knowing what else she could say, she could only repeat the same sentence over and over.

“Chen Yue, don’t endure things like this.”

Chen Yue didn’t answer.

So Chi Xiaoman shook her head again and said clearly, “Chen Yue, don’t do this.”

Maybe her thoughts were too chaotic, because the line came out vague. What she meant was—

Chen Yue, don’t let yourself be hurt like this.

The noise outside the car kept growing louder, and people had started loudly accusing her, suspecting that Chi Xiaoman was pressuring Chen Yue through words inside the car.

Chen Yue stared straight ahead at the road.

After a long time, once Chi Xiaoman repeated, “Don’t do this,” she said quietly, “Okay.”

Having gotten Chen Yue’s response, Chi Xiaoman still couldn’t relax. She anxiously and blankly stared at the situation outside the window, then looked back at Chen Yue and saw Chen Yue gently scratch the steering wheel with her fingers, and realized—

Since getting in the car, Chen Yue still hadn’t turned around to look at her.

Was she blaming her too?

Even though she knew Chen Yue wouldn’t, Chi Xiaoman still couldn’t help thinking that.

“Chen Yue, why won’t you look at me?”

Cold sweat slid down from her eyelids. Chi Xiaoman rubbed it away with effort, desperately thinking through solutions in her mind.

Logically speaking.

She felt she should get Chen Yue out of here as soon as possible—after all, that was what she had intended to do when she borrowed Shen Baozhi’s car and drove here. Do it like a mature, complete person. Do it the way she wanted to. But now, even if she got out of the car, it seemed she couldn’t safely take Chen Yue away. She might not even be able to drive Shen Baozhi’s car back.

Thinking of that, Chi Xiaoman once again looked up with great effort at Chen Yue.

Chen Yue still didn’t turn around.

She was looking ahead, her hand still on the steering wheel, and once more lightly scratched it.

A long time passed.

Only then did she laugh faintly, as if there was nothing she could do, and finally turned back to look at her—

Her face became clear under the streetlight.

Chen Yue said softly,

“Because I’m afraid I’ll cry if I see you.”

Inside the car, the woman’s face was covered by shadow. Chi Xiaoman’s mind was hazy; she was still thinking of solutions and couldn’t understand what those words meant. She also thought Chen Yue’s expression was a little strange.

“Why would you cry if you saw me?”

“Does it hurt?” Chi Xiaoman herself said the words. Only then did she realize the toe of her shoe hurt badly, as if some liquid had come out and dried. Would Chen Yue hurt like this too? Or would it be worse than hers?

And Chen Yue still held the same turned posture, looking at her from the side. She met her gaze, and between their eyes were the dazzling flashes of light, one after another.

“Chen Yue?” Chi Xiaoman’s eyes stung from the flashing.

She felt that Chen Yue must be hurting too, so after speaking she hurriedly raised both hands, arching them into little hills as before, shielding Chen Yue’s face from the flashes coming into the car.

“Because I feel sorry for you.” Chen Yue said it slowly.

Chi Xiaoman froze, thinking Chen Yue had reversed the words. “How could it be that you feel sorry for me?”

And after that, she even wanted to smile a little, to make Chen Yue stop looking at her with that sad expression.

But Chen Yue looked at her, and it left her unable to speak.

And the next second.

Chen Yue suddenly reached out and, with a very slight motion, touched her face.

It carried no real meaning; it wasn’t wiping tears or sweat.

It was simply a touch.

Her skin temperature was cool; her movement was light.

As if she were fragile, and also precious.

Like a doll restorer casting magic over a doll once again, only this time with a more intimate touch.

Or like she was an unhatched chick. And through a thin layer of membrane, she looked at her and stroked her feeble down.

Chi Xiaoman felt the woman’s cool temperature settle against her cheek and found it difficult to understand.

A car light swept across outside, flashing through the space where their gazes met, as if glue had stuck them together.

Warm air from the heater, the autumn night, the shifting silhouettes, the confrontation of their gazes; for a long time they still couldn’t separate. Chen Yue touched her face with her palm, slowly curled her fingers back, and after a long time said,

“Because with something like this, maybe you already went through it a long time ago.”

The thin glass divided the car interior from the outside world into two separate worlds; suddenly Chi Xiaoman could no longer tell which world was real. And the woman looked at her from this close, her voice very soft.

“Maybe not just once, while today is my first time experiencing it, my first time truly seeing it.”

“Xiaoman.”

Chen Yue seemed to want to smile, but unusually, she couldn’t quite do it. The corners of her eyes hidden in the light and shadow were faintly red.

“I think you’ve had it so hard.”

[Author’s Note]

The forty-second day of Little Neon, on time [sunglasses][sunglasses][sunglasses][sunglasses][sunglasses]