Chapter Text
First and foremost, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who has supported and enjoyed this fic.
Your comments and kudos have been greatly encouraging.
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Second, I would like to offer my sincere apologies to any readers who experienced negative emotions while reading it.
This work was written under the influence of many Chinese fiction works I have read; therefore, the tone and setting may not be suitable or comfortable for all audiences.
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Third, I have completed 4 chapters and was in the process of writing chapter 5.
Unfortunately, I received some comments that could be considered insulting, including accusation regarding my sanity and mental health.
I would like to clarify that I am mentally healthy, and that fiction is, ultimately, fiction.
I have not experienced abuse in my personal life, aside from instances of online harassment.
The content of this fic is purely a product of imagination, though I acknowledge that I may have gone too far in depicting violence and non-consensual elements.
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Fourth, while I am aware that my tagging may not be perfect, I am open to advice and willing to improve. Another apology for this shortage.
I have paused work on chapter 5 in order to revise the 4 existing chapters, with the goal of reducing excessive violence and content that some readers described as "dead dove."
I understand the meaning and broad interpretation of the term; English is my first language, and I got my BS in Philosophy.
However, I do not believe that my fic falls within that category, regardless of the term's large spectrum.
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Last, please remember that I am neither an AI nor a machine—I am a human being with feelings.
I kindly ask that readers choose their words carefully, as comments can cause harm in ways that may not be immediately apparent.
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Thank you very much for your understanding. I hope you are able to enjoy this work.
And if not, I respectfully invite you to mute or disengage as you see fit.
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Your silly author: Rose (She/Her)
Chapter 1
Jinshi's mobile phone alarm rang out, startling Maomao awake. She shifted slightly and realized she was sleeping in Jinshi's arms.
After a few seconds of panic, she vaguely recalled exactly what had transpired the previous night; feeling as if she had been electrocuted, she shot upright, scrambled off the bed, and hurriedly fled into the bathroom.
The considerable commotion Maomao had caused—combined with the ringing phone—woke Jinshi. The moment he cracked his eyes open, he caught a glimpse of Maomao's slender figure darting into the bathroom.
Although it was merely a fleeting glance, he clearly saw that Maomao was completely naked, her fair, flawless skin covered in hickeys of varying shades.
Suddenly, a rapid succession of images flashed through his mind: Maomao actively snuggling into his embrace, kissing him, caressing him, and stripping off his clothes...
Jinshi frowned in anger. His gaze instinctively swept across the bedroom, landing on the chaotic mess beside the bed—a jumble of clothing, both his and hers, tossed together in a heap—and a small, vivid crimson stain on the bedsheet...
Jinshi had consumed a great deal of alcohol the night before; while his head throbbed slightly in the aftermath of his intoxication, his mind remained perfectly lucid.
He instantly grasped the full reality of what had transpired between him and Maomao the previous evening.
It turned out he hadn't been dreaming; it was the absolute truth.
His eyes turned glacial. Clenching his fists, he violently threw back the covers and sprang from the bed; consumed by a surging rage, Jinshi stormed after her into the bathroom.
Once she had shut the bathroom door behind her, Maomao quietly let out a long, deep breath. Last night, having consumed a bit of alcohol, she had drifted into a hazy, semi-conscious state and—without even realizing it—had somehow found her way into Jinshi's arms.
Believing she was merely dreaming, she had boldly leaned in to kiss him; acting on pure instinct, he had responded with equal fervor, and things had quickly escalated far beyond that initial kiss...
Both of them, under the delusion that they were still within the realm of a dream, had simply let go of all inhibitions.
She and Jinshi had been married for two months, yet theirs was not a marriage born of love. To the outside world, no one would ever suspect they were husband and wife; since the day they wed, they had maintained a silent pact never to touch one another—agreeing that the moment they stepped out the door, they would act as if they were total strangers.
And, she had dared to shatter that very agreement...
How would he react once he finally sobered up?
At that thought, a wave of panic and dread surged from the depths of Maomao's heart. It took her a moment—her hands trembling—to turn on the faucet.
Just as she was preparing to plunge her face into the cool stream of water to regain her composure, the bathroom door suddenly burst open; Jinshi had kicked it in with force.
Seething with rage, he lunged forward and seized her by the wrist. She struggled with all her might to wrench herself free, but he was too quick.
Jinshi had struck in a fit of fury, showing absolutely no restraint. His anger undiminished, Jinshi glared down at her face and hissed: "Kan Maomao, I never imagined you had the audacity to be such an opportunist—taking advantage of my drunken state to throw yourself at me, and then having the gall to climb into my bed!"
Jinshi paused at this point, as if struck by a sudden thought; his gaze darkened. Tightening his grip around Maomao's wrists, he forced her face upward, staring intently into her eyes.
With a cold, expressionless face, he spoke in a voice as icy as frost: "Kan Maomao, if I recall correctly, on our wedding night, you acted so pure! Your very first words to me were to forbid me from touching you! So, what changed? We've only been married for two months, yet you've already changed your tune and actively crawled into my bed?"
As Jinshi uttered these words, his handsome, square-jawed face betrayed not a single flicker of emotion. His deep, mesmerizing black eyes turned sharp and cold; his entire body remained motionless, save for the hand tightening around her wrists—a sight terrifying enough to strike fear into anyone.
Maomao, already flustered by this tense predicament, became even more terrified under his relentless interrogation; she trembled from head to toe. Biting her lower lip, she racked her brains for an answer, yet remained utterly unable to utter a single word.
Jinshi offered no further words either, appearing to wait with stony patience for her response.
The bathroom fell silent—a suffocating silence that left one breathless—while Jinshi's gaze remained fixed unblinkingly upon Maomao's lovely face.
Deep within her heart, she was terrified; it felt as though he could see right through to her very soul. Her heart pounded harder and harder.
Just as Maomao felt she could endure it no longer, Jinshi spoke again, shattering the silence: "Or perhaps—you wanted to get into my bed all along?"
Upon hearing those words, Maomao's entire body shuddered. Did he truly understand nothing about the kind of person she was?
Maomao blinked, momentarily taken aback; yet, to conceal her surprise, she instinctively blurted out: "I want to star in the TV series *Till the End of Time*."
Maomao's crisp remark decisively cut off Jinshi's words right in the middle.
Perhaps because Maomao had confessed her "fault" so quickly that Jinshi hadn't heard her clearly, he appeared slightly dazed, remaining silent for a long while.
Maomao felt her heart pounding furiously, threatening to leap right out of her chest. She struggled to summon every ounce of composure she possessed, fixing her gaze upon Jinshi's handsome face—a face as pure and angelic as a cherub's—and, striving to keep her voice steady, she continued to make her case:
"You know, I've been in the entertainment industry for over half a year now, yet I still haven't landed a single decent role. You're considered a titan of the industry, so if you were to put in just one good word for me, I'd be guaranteed a role in *Till the End of Time*."
Maomao paused briefly at this point, pursing her lips before adding—in a tone that was neither hurried nor flustered—the finishing touch: "And last night—that was my repayment."
The moment Maomao finished speaking, Jinshi's pupils constricted violently. Struggling to suppress his rage—a fury that caused his tightly clenched fingers to tremble slightly—he slowly loosened his grip on her wrists.
The very next second, his anger twisted into a mocking laugh: "Maomao, are you trying to play the 'unspoken rules' game with me?"
Jinshi let out a soft, fleeting chuckle that vanished without a trace; his sharp, piercing gaze locked onto her, and his voice turned scathing and glacial: "Very well, Maomao. If you insist on playing games with me, then I'll show you exactly what hell looks like!"
Jinshi was so consumed by rage that he longed to tear Maomao's face to shreds; gritting his teeth, he spat out one final scathing remark before releasing his hold on her.
Without sparing her a single glance, he turned and strode away with haughty disdain.
Now she knew the true meaning of hell. Her long eyelashes fluttered as her face turned deathly pale. She remained pressed against the wall, motionless, until the deafening slam of the door echoed through the room.
Then, pursing her lips, she swallowed hard before sinking to the floor in utter exhaustion, a film of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
How could he possibly believe that she had slept with him solely to land a role in that TV series?
She had merely used that as a pretext—a convenient excuse to conceal the true sentiments of her heart.
And that truth—that she loved him—was a secret known to her and her alone.
Yes, she loved him. She had harbored a silent, unrequited love for him for thirteen long years—a love she dared not reveal to him, and indeed, could not let him ever discover.
Maomao had always believed she had kept her feelings perfectly hidden; yet, she never imagined that after drinking just a little alcohol the previous night, she would inadvertently lay her heart bare. She had truly overestimated her own ability to keep her emotions in check.
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Regardless of Jinshi's fury over Maomao's audacity in actively seducing him, three days later, she still received a phone call from the production team of *Till the End of Time*, summoning her to an audition.
Maomao had no way of knowing whether the opportunity for this role had been a directive issued by Jinshi himself, or if it was simply a casting arrangement made by the director of *Till the End of Time*.
While her frequency of appearances in films couldn't exactly be described as high, neither could it be considered low.
Setting aside the significance of a lead role, this was certainly no mere supporting part—the kind that makes no difference whether it's there or not. Yet, compared to her previous roles, this one was truly a thousand times better.
Because she had secured this role through unconventional means, when Maomao went in for her audition—despite performing only a single scene—the process concluded immediately, and she signed the contract on the spot.
Three days later, Maomao joined the film crew to officially begin shooting; the very next day, Jinshi flew to Rome to film his own new movie.
Two months into their marriage—a union born of a single night of passion—the two of them had already drifted onto separate paths.
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Three months later.
After three months of filming, the crew of *Till the End of Time* had wrapped production at a stunning, thirty-million-yuan villa located in the eastern suburbs of the capital. Everyone on the team was jubilant.
The most ecstatic of all was undoubtedly the film's director; in high spirits, he made a spirited phone call to the Beijing Grand Hotel, booking the entire rooftop ballroom to host a celebratory banquet for the entire cast and crew.
The banquet for *Till the End of Time* was originally scheduled for three o'clock in the afternoon; however, since the crew members still needed to pack up their props and the actors had to remove their makeup and change clothes, the party was ultimately postponed until eight o'clock that evening.
Jinshi had been staying in Rome recently. Due to a minor, unexpected issue that had cropped up at his company, he was currently taking advantage of a two-day break in his filming schedule to make a quick trip back home.
Given the urgency of the situation, Jinshi hadn't managed to catch a single moment of rest during his grueling long-haul flight. The moment his plane touched down, he headed straight from Beijing International Airport directly to his company headquarters.
Upon arriving at the company, the senior executives were already waiting in the conference room; Jinshi—without even pausing to take a sip of water—immediately commenced the meeting.
The meeting ran continuously from three in the afternoon until six in the evening. When Jinshi returned to his office, his assistant followed him inside: "Master Jinshi, I have booked a flight departing at midnight tonight for Rome. Once we arrive, you will have fifteen hours to rest before filming resumes."
The long flight, combined with the afternoon conference, left Jinshi looking faintly weary. He sat at his desk, listening as his assistant briefed him on his itinerary; at the same time, he casually pulled out the mobile phone he had silenced during the meeting.
Finding no urgent notifications, he was just about to lock the screen when his WeChat buzzed. Jinshi instinctively tapped it open to check the group chat message: "The filming of *Till the End of Time* has wrapped successfully! We're hosting a celebration banquet tonight at 8 PM at the Beijing Grand Hotel—drop by if you have the time!"
Jinshi read and reread the message for what felt like five seconds. Then, he quietly looked up and nodded at his assistant—who had just finished his report—acknowledging that he had received the information.
Having worked with Jinshi for many years, Basen understood his reserved and taciturn nature—how he never let his emotions show on his face.
He continued: "Master Jinshi, there are still six hours before your flight departs. Would you prefer to have dinner in the city, or wait until we get to the airport?"
"We'll eat in the city," Jinshi replied nonchalantly. Before Basen could even ask where he wanted to go, he added: "Let's go to the Beijing Grand Hotel."
By the time Jinshi and Basen had finished their dinner, it was already eight-thirty in the evening. After settling the bill, just as the two of them were walking toward the main entrance—one following the other—Jinshi suddenly came to a halt.
Basen quickly stopped as well: "Master Jinshi, is something the matter?"
Jinshi remained silent for a long moment. Just as Basen was about to ask again, he finally spoke, his voice measured: "Go wait for me in the car. I have something to attend to; I'm going to head upstairs for a little while."
Having said this, Jinshi stood at the hotel's main entrance for a few seconds before turning around and walking toward the elevators.
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As the female lead in the TV series *Till the End of Time*, Maomao was naturally required to attend the celebration banquet.
The moment she returned to the city, she raced to shower, change, and style her hair; then, hastily selecting a piece of elegant jewelry, she rushed off to the Beijing Grand Hotel.
Yet, in the end, Maomao still didn't make it in time; by the time she arrived, the director of *Till the End of Time* was already standing on stage, solemnly delivering his speech of thanks.
Fortunately, everyone was focused on the director on stage and failed to notice Maomao's late arrival. Standing on the fringes of the crowd, she glanced around before deciding to head toward her manager, Chue, who was standing off to the side.
The director's speech was brief; once it concluded, the banquet officially began. Guests raised their glasses in toasts and engaged in cheerful conversation.
Although Maomao was not yet a household name in the entertainment industry, she possessed a flawless figure and an elegant demeanor.
Moreover, she was adept at social etiquette; thus, at a networking event like this, her words and gestures toward everyone—from superiors to subordinates—were impeccably refined and friendly.
After making the rounds toasting the industry's heavyweights, Maomao was so famished that her stomach felt like it was practically glued to her spine.
Without a word, she dragged Chue over to the buffet area to serve as her food-runner, then found a seat near the window.
However, before Maomao could even eat more than a few bites, the banquet—which had moments earlier been a scene of boisterous festivity—suddenly fell into an eerie, unnatural silence.
Maomao forced down the last mouthful of food; as she looked up curiously to follow the direction of everyone's gaze, Jinshi's figure immediately caught her eye.
Instantly, the events of three months ago flooded back into Maomao's mind: how, in a drunken stupor, she had stumbled into his bed—only to be met with his furious wrath as he simultaneously scolded her and hurled insults:
"Kan Maomao, are you trying to pull a casting-couch stunt on me?"
"Fine, Maomao. If you want to play games with me, I'll show you exactly what hell looks like!"
At that memory, Maomao tightened her grip on the chopsticks she held; her heart began to pound wildly within her chest.
On that day, he must have been utterly exasperated to have uttered such harsh words. For the past three months, she had done nothing but run from him; yet, no matter how hard she tried to hide, they had ultimately—inevitably—crossed paths once again.
His impeccably tailored black suit served to further accentuate Jinshi's dashing and elegant physique.
The lighting of the banquet hall cast a shimmering glow upon his face—a face that nature itself seemed to have crafted with meticulous favor, flawless in every minute detail: a high-bridged nose, noble brows, almond-shaped eyes, and a pair of thin, sensual lips. His transcendent beauty defied description.
The entertainment industry has never suffered from a shortage of handsome men and beautiful women—individuals so dazzling that one could pluck almost anyone from the crowd and be met with a blinding display of glamour.
Yet, in his presence, they all faded into obscurity, utterly incomparable. Jinshi exuded a peculiar, magnetic allure—an aura that effortlessly drew every eye in the room, making him the undisputed center of attention.
The entire scene of the banquet fell into a hushed stillness for nearly half a minute following his sudden appearance.
The director of *Earth and Sky* was the first to regain his composure; raising his wine glass, he stepped forward with polite cordiality to welcome him: "Mr. Ka Zuigetsu..."
As the director spoke, the atmosphere of the banquet eased slightly. Although everyone present knew full well that any attempt to strike up a conversation would likely go unanswered, they all wore beaming smiles as they greeted Jinshi in unison: "Hello, Mr. Ka!"
Jinshi appeared oblivious to the greetings surrounding him; his gaze remained fixed unblinkingly upon the seating area as he advanced with a leisurely stride.
Though it was a simple, ordinary act of walking, he executed it with an air of captivating allure that left onlookers utterly mesmerized.
Still clutching his wine glass, the director trailed faithfully by Jinshi's side, his face beaming with enthusiasm as he chattered away incessantly.
Maomao remained seated in her spot. Initially, while the distance was still considerable and the crowd provided a screen, she had dared to steal a few furtive glances at Jinshi.
As his footsteps drew ever closer, however, she limited herself to only the occasional fleeting peek.
By the time Jinshi was right beside her, she no longer dared to even lift her head; instead, she simply held her chopsticks and stiffly poked at her food, feigning a calm indifference—as if she hadn't noticed his presence in the slightest. "Mr. Ka, you arrived without giving us any advance notice—I could have sent someone to meet you..."
Hearing the director's voice, Maomao sensed that Jinshi was approaching her. She unconsciously tightened her grip on her chopsticks, straightened her back, and stared unblinkingly at her plate of food; even her chewing became incredibly deliberate.
Finally, Jinshi walked past where she was sitting. Just as Maomao was about to breathe a sigh of relief, she realized that he had taken a seat in the chair directly behind her.
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Back when Maomao first fell for Jinshi, she used to dream of seeing him every single day; however, as time went on, she began to feel a sense of trepidation whenever she encountered him.
It wasn't so bad when he was at a distance, but the moment they were in close proximity, she would become utterly tongue-tied—overwhelmed by a mix of nervousness and fear—especially considering what had transpired between them just three months prior...
Now, with him seated directly behind her, she could distinctly sense his voice and feel the warmth of his breath. Maomao was so consumed by anxiety that her palms grew slick with sweat.
Jinshi and the director were engaged in a discussion regarding various films and television programs. Jinshi spoke very little, leaving the director to do most of the talking; yet, every time Jinshi did utter a word, it sent a violent tremor through the very depths of Maomao's heart.
Eventually, she could bear it no longer. Setting down her chopsticks, she excused herself to Chue under the pretext of needing to use the restroom, then rose from her seat.
Whether by coincidence or not, the moment Maomao stood up, Jinshi rose as well.
The restroom was located behind Maomao, while the exit leading back to the banquet hall lay behind Jinshi. She turned around; he turned around—and just like that, caught completely off guard, the two of them found themselves suddenly face-to-face.
The instant Maomao's gaze met Jinshi's, she panicked and hurriedly lowered her head, averting her eyes to avoid his stare.
Although Maomao and Jinshi had been husband and wife for five months, their marriage had been kept a secret; consequently, in the eyes of the outside world, the two of them remained nothing more than complete strangers with absolutely no connection to one another.
Maomao clenched her hands tightly, struggling to suppress the trembling deep within her heart. Pretending not to know Jinshi—just like everyone else—she turned toward him and offered a respectful greeting: "Hello, Mr. Ka."
Jinshi's expression remained impassive as he stood motionless; his gaze seemed somewhat distant, as if he hadn't heard Maomao's voice at all.
After a long moment, he suddenly blinked, turned around, and strode past her toward the exit of the banquet hall.
From start to finish, he did not spare Maomao a single glance—as if the woman standing right before him were not the very wife he had been married to for the past five months.
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Jinshi possessed a cold, aloof nature, exuding an aura that warned strangers to keep their distance.
Moreover, as a figure who held absolute sway over the entertainment industry, he inevitably made everyone who crossed his path feel tense and cautious.
Now that he had departed, the atmosphere of the banquet gradually returned to its former liveliness—though, naturally, his recent appearance still fueled a buzz of conversation as many guests couldn't help but whisper excitedly about him.
"Ka Zuigetsu truly is a legend of the showbiz world!"
"More than just a legend—he is a truly unbelievable phenomenon! You have to remember that ever since he first entered the industry, spanning a full ten years, he hasn't had a single scandal or romantic entanglement to his name."
He built his career from scratch. Rumor has it that when he first entered the entertainment industry, he was merely an impoverished young man—possessing neither wealth nor connections—who endured considerable humiliation and hardship, patiently persevering for nearly four years before finally escaping his struggles.
From that point on, his rise became unstoppable; over the past six consecutive years, ten cinematic masterpieces were voted as top favorites online—six of which featured him in a leading role, and two in a supporting role.
"Even more legendary was an event three years ago: when Huan Ying Media faced the brink of collapse, he used every penny of the earnings he had saved over several years to acquire the company. At the time, everyone assumed he was headed for total bankruptcy—penniless and destitute. Yet, who could have predicted that in just three short years, Huan Ying Media would truly become the largest film and television production company in the country? Just look at all the famous stars on TV today—which one of them didn't get their start at Huan Ying Media?"
"But I've heard he has a rather eccentric personality—he doesn't date, nor does he socialize much with others; he simply prefers working alone. Still, in the entertainment industry over these past few years, no one has managed to surpass his handsome looks, exceptional talent, or top-tier acting skills. It's no wonder everyone calls him the 'Nation's Husband'—though one has to wonder: who will this 'Nation's Husband' eventually end up marrying?"
"Speaking of which, he joined the industry when he was eighteen, and now he's already twenty-eight. Even if he isn't married, shouldn't he at least have a girlfriend? How is it that there hasn't been a single shred of news about his love life?"
"Exactly! Forget about a girlfriend—they haven't even managed to snap a photo of him with a potential romantic interest. What do you think? Could it be that he just isn't interested in women...?"
Listening to the chatter of the people around her, Chue couldn't help but look up and stare at Maomao—who was sitting across from her, stirring her coffee with a spoon—and ask: "Isn't he still in Rome filming? Hasn't he finished yet?" "Why did he suddenly return to Beijing?"
Although the fact of Maomao and Jinshi's marriage was kept a secret from the outside world, as Maomao's longtime close friend and manager, Chue understood immediately—even without a name being mentioned—that the "he" in her own question referred to Jinshi. The hand holding her spoon paused briefly; then, Maomao looked up at Chue, shook her head, and answered with unvarnished honesty: "I don't know."
"You don't know?!" Chue scrutinized Maomao with a bewildered expression: "Miss Maomao, are you actually his wife or not? He came all the way back to Beijing from Rome—how could he not have told you?"
Maomao shook her head again: "He didn't."
Chue suddenly recalled the scene from just moments ago, when Maomao and Jinshi had crossed paths—yet Jinshi hadn't spared Maomao a single glance from start to finish.
At the time, Chue had simply assumed the two were merely putting on an act to conceal their marriage; however, now it seemed things were not quite as she had imagined.
Frowning, Chue spoke up once more: "Just how exactly have you two been carrying on your secret affair?" "Normally, when you aren't seeing each other, how often do you get in touch?"
Maomao lowered her gaze, remaining silent. There was nothing even remotely resembling a clandestine affair between her and Jinshi; in the five months since their marriage, they had spoken no more than three times.
The most extensive conversation they'd had occurred three months ago—a night when, in a tipsy haze, she had clung to him and professed her love—yet even that exchange had ended with him scolding her.
Thinking back on it, Maomao gave a faint, wry smile. She bypassed the first question and went straight to answering Chue's second point: "He and I haven't been in contact for three months now."
"Three months?!" Chue's eyes went wide, her expression one of utter disbelief: "Miss Maomao, are you actually his wife, or is he keeping a mistress? Calling you a mistress would actually be giving you too much credit. A mistress sleeps with her sugar daddy and still manages to rake in plenty of perks—but look at you! As his wife, just take a look at yourself from head to toe—your clothes, your accessories—is there a single item worth more than five figures?"
"What's more, he's a man who wields absolute power in the entertainment industry; elevating you to the status of a dazzling star would be as easy as flipping his hand. Yet, he stubbornly insisted on granting you nothing more than a minor supporting role in *Till the End of Time*..."
Maomao remained silent, yet deep within her heart, she trembled slightly at the intensity of Chue's words.
Chue was right; strictly speaking, she was worse off than even a mistress. While both roles involved sleeping with a man, a mistress—for better or worse—at least had the potential to win her patron's affection; she, on the other hand, merely slept beside him, only to provoke his anger and disgust.
Maomao lifted her coffee cup and took a large, deliberate gulp, suppressing the agonizing bitterness churning within her. Her tone remained gentle, as if she were discussing someone else's love life: "You know as well as I do that our marriage was born of necessity; there is no love between us, so it's only natural that we don't keep in touch."
Chue and Maomao had known each other since elementary school. Although their interests were worlds apart, they had always shared a close bond; consequently, Chue was privy to many details of Maomao's past.
Upon hearing Maomao's words, she fell silent for a long moment. Her gaze repeatedly fixed upon Maomao's face—which remained steadfastly calm—until, finally unable to hold back, she let out a heavy sigh and spoke:
"Maomao, back in middle school, very few girls in our school could actually talk to him—you could count them on one hand—and you were one of them. What's more, he treated you quite well back then; he even went out with you on several occasions. So tell me: after you both started university, how did you suddenly end up completely losing touch with one another?"
"Even when they do cross paths, they act like total strangers—as if they've never met before. Sometimes, he can't even help but make cutting remarks. What on earth happened between the two of you?"
What happened? In an instant, Maomao felt a flicker of panic. She stared intently at the cup of coffee before her for a long moment before slowly shaking her head and speaking in a soft voice: "I don't know, Chue. For years now—even more than you do—I've been desperate to know: what exactly happened back then?"
-
When Jinshi emerged from the Beijing Grand Hotel once again, his assistant was already waiting at the main entrance with the car parked right out front.
Upon spotting Jinshi, Basen immediately stepped out of the vehicle and opened the rear passenger door.
Without uttering a single word, Jinshi bent down and climbed into the car.
As Basen closed the door, he instinctively glanced up at Jinshi; he noticed that the handsome man's face was positively glowing with intensity, his lips pressed together in a tight, rigid line.
Jinshi's expression was so intimidating that it sent a sudden jolt of unease through Basen. He hurriedly shut the rear door, slipped into the driver's seat, started the engine, turned the steering wheel, and drove away.
Basen had been working under Jinshi for many years; with just a subtle gesture or facial expression from his boss, he could instantly gauge his mood.
Whenever the corners of his lips tightened, it was almost a certainty—nine times out of ten—that he was in a foul mood.
Yet, it was baffling; clearly, after dinner, his mood had been perfectly normal—neither particularly warm nor cold. How was it that after simply going upstairs alone for a brief moment, he had returned looking like this?
Although Basen was inwardly perplexed, he lacked the courage to ask Jinshi exactly what had happened.
It was only after the car had pulled out onto the main road that he finally spoke up to address business matters: "Master Jinshi, shall we head straight to the airport now?"
Jinshi offered no response.
The interior of the car grew even more silent.
Jinshi's temperament was naturally aloof, giving people the impression that he was unapproachable.
However, at this moment, an icy aura—laced with an overwhelming sense of oppression—radiated from him, stifling the air inside the vehicle and rendering it frigid.
Basen kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, refraining from speaking further; he simply focused on driving, though his anxiety continued to mount.
As the car transitioned from the Second Ring Road to the Third Ring Road—part of Beijing's system of seven ring roads—the previously pleasant weather suddenly took a turn for the worse, and it began to rain.
In an attempt to alleviate his own mounting tension, Basen spoke up once more: "It's raining."
No sooner had the words left his lips than the rain began to fall even heavier. There was still no sound from Jinshi inside the car—only the rhythmic patter of raindrops drumming against the vehicle's exterior.
Having spoken twice in succession without receiving a single reply, Basen finally gave up all hope of eliciting a response and fell completely silent.
The rain intensified, visibility deteriorated, and the car's speed gradually slowed. Just as the car was preparing to turn toward the airport exit, Jinshi—who had remained silent the entire time—suddenly spoke up: "Basen! Stop the car!"
Jinshi's voice was not loud, yet it was clear enough for his assistant to hear perfectly; Basen immediately slammed on the brakes.
Basen turned around to look at Jinshi: "Master Jinshi, is something the matter?"
Jinshi remained silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed straight out the car window. A young man and woman, both wearing school uniforms, were rushing frantically through the torrential rain; they finally managed to take shelter under the eaves of a roadside building.
They stayed there for about two minutes before a taxi arrived and opened its door; the two quickly climbed inside and drove away. Yet, Jinshi's gaze remained fixed exactly on the spot beneath the eaves where the two students had just taken shelter from the rain.
Basen couldn't quite grasp what Jinshi was staring at; seeing that he had ordered the car to stop but was now lingering without issuing any further instructions, Basen couldn't help but speak up again: "Master Jinshi?"
Jinshi still did not speak; he seemed lost in thought as memories of events from many years ago suddenly flooded his mind.
That day, too, had been one of heavy rain; he and Maomao had run into a dilapidated old house to take shelter. It was there that they had met for the very first time.
Neither of them had spoken a word, simply gazing silently at one another until, upon noticing the uniforms they were wearing, they realized that they attended the same school.
"Master Jinshi?"
After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, Basen's voice rang out inside the car once more. Jinshi's brow twitched ever so slightly; he turned his head with a detached air, his deep, dark eyes appearing utterly calm—devoid of any nuance or emotion.
"Master Jinshi, it's less than two hours until takeoff; we really need to go check in..."
Before Basen could finish speaking, Jinshi gently cut him off: "Get out at the nearest taxi stand."
"Huh?" Basen looked astonished and was about to continue speaking when Jinshi, his voice devoid of inflection, spoke again: "We aren't going to Rome today. Change the flight tickets to tomorrow morning."
After waiting for Basen to get out, Jinshi sat in the driver's seat, his hands resting on the steering wheel. His fingers tapped out a steady rhythm—as if he had just reached a firm decision—before he turned the key with a hint of vexation.
Driving with practiced ease, he executed a U-turn at the upcoming intersection and headed back toward the city center.