Ji Xun lay on the bed, staring at the bug on the ceiling.
He had lost track of how long he had been watching it. Finally, the bug moved—a tiny black dot scurrying across the yellowed ceiling before darting into the lampshade, becoming just one of countless dark specks inside the foggy glass.
He hadn’t slept well last night.
In fact, ever since his conversation with Meng Fushan, Ji Xun knew his mental state was deteriorating. It felt as though he had suddenly relapsed into a long-forgotten past—living day by day, unable to fall asleep, yet unable to fully wake up.
At any given moment, his brain felt as though it were glued together by half-dried paste, muddled into a thick fog.
But while he could afford to be like that in the past, he couldn’t now.
There were still too many things to do.
Ji Xun massaged his temples and gave his head a gentle shake, clearing the ceiling and the bug from his mind. He consciously forced his brain to recall Huo Ranyin. Even though there was no one beside him, just picturing that face provided a placebo effect of comfort.
He ate a simple hotel breakfast while gulping down a cup of strong tea. Reseating himself in front of the computer, he opened Yingying’s homepage.
Zhang Chunhua had Alzheimer’s disease and couldn’t answer his questions properly. Otherwise, he could have just asked her directly about Huo Qiying. But now, his only breakthrough point was Yingying.
The current clues boiled down crudely to Yingying alone. He just needed to figure out a way to extract information from her.
What exactly was this “thing” that both Yingying and Zhang Chunhua cared so much about?
Did this “thing” have anything to do with “Huo Qiying”?
After a moment of thought, Ji Xun sent Yingying a private message. In it, he stated that he had a collaborative project and wanted to discuss it with her in person.
Yingying was an influencer who did livestream sales; approaching her under the guise of business should make it relatively easy to get close.
Yingying didn’t keep him waiting long, but the person replying was clearly not Yingying herself, but an assistant managing the account’s business inquiries.
“Hello, what kind of merchandise is it?”
“Books.” Ji Xun had already thought this through. Since his side hustle was writing books, he could have Yingying help promote them. If the results were good, the publishing house could even reimburse the promotional fees. “I will discuss the content of the book with you when we meet.”
“We haven’t promoted this kind of merchandise before, so we don’t have any past metrics for reference.”
“It’s always good to try a new field once in a while,” Ji Xun replied. “The price will satisfy you.”
“Alright, please send over the quote along with the book details.”
Ji Xun sent over the link to his book. As for the quote, he did a quick online search and sent a standard, middle-of-the-road price.
Then, it was a matter of waiting for a reply with absolute patience.
The other side was quite efficient. Ji Xun only waited about ten minutes before a new message popped up:
“The book’s sales are good, and the author is very photogenic. Are you reaching out on behalf of the publishing house?”
“Yes, the publishing house. I am Ai Yin, the acquiring editor for this book.” Ji Xun borrowed his editor’s identity without batting an eye. This business-to-business approach would make the other party feel more secure. As for what would happen when they actually met—once the bird was in the cage, it wouldn’t be able to fly away.
“Does the author look the same as the promotional photos?” the other side asked.
“?” Ji Xun replied, “Yes, the same.”
“Yingying hasn’t promoted this kind of product before. We believe it would be better if she appears on camera together with the author to sell the book.”
“……” Ji Xun.
“Considering the chemistry on camera, we think it’s best for Yingying to meet and chat with the author first. The editor doesn’t need to come.”
Having said that, the other side directly sent over the studio’s location.
“This is the location. You decide the time.”
Ji Xun read the chat history over and over, finally concluding:
While he was still subtly setting a trap to reel Yingying in, Yingying had already reeled him in with brute simplicity.
“I’ve asked the author,” Ji Xun typed back with a complicated expression. “The author is very happy to meet Yingying. See you at the studio at 3:00 PM.”
Ji Xun arrived at the designated location half an hour earlier than the agreed time.
Only upon arrival did he realize it was a three-story villa in a high-end local neighborhood. He knocked on the door, and a young woman quickly answered. She was one of the staff members who had accompanied Yingying to the nursing home yesterday.
Ji Xun recognized her, but she didn’t seem to recognize him. She politely invited him inside to sit in the living room, mentioning that Yingying would be down shortly.
The villa’s living room featured a French window, behind which lay a well-maintained garden. Inside the window was the gentle, cool breeze of the air conditioner; outside was the blazing, fierce sunlight, shaking like gold scattered across the trees and water.
“You’re here, why aren’t you sitting?”
Yingying’s voice came from behind him.
Ji Xun turned around and saw Yingying holding the handrail as she walked down the stairs.
Compared to yesterday, today’s Yingying was much more exquisite.
She was still wearing a mask, but her eyes and brows were meticulously made up. Her slender willow-leaf brows complemented her upturned eyes, and she wore a hand-embroidered cheongsam. The hem of the cheongsam featured a cluster of fluttering butterflies, and one gold-green butterfly seemed to have flown up to roost in her pitch-black hair.
Today, she carried a suffocatingly pungent glamour.
Stepping off the stairs, she walked into the open-plan kitchen adjacent to the living room, opened the refrigerator, and asked Ji Xun, “What would you like to drink?”
“Anything is fine.”
Ji Xun sat down on the sofa, choosing a spot away from the direct sunlight.
“Miss Yingying, a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’d like to say the pleasure is mine, too.” Yingying took out ice cubes and sparkling water from the fridge, along with two glasses. She walked over, sat opposite Ji Xun, and placed the items on the coffee table. “Though, this doesn’t seem to be our first time meeting—”
“Yes, we met yesterday,” Ji Xun smiled. “At the nursing home.”
“Is it a coincidence?” Yingying tilted her head.
This cute gesture didn’t quite match her outfit today.
“No,” Ji Xun said.
“So you came looking for me on purpose.”
Judging by her tone, Yingying was smiling, but the mask covered half her face, and her exposed eyes alone couldn’t convey too much emotion.
“The account that contacted my assistant this morning—was it really you, or your editor?”
Perhaps the sunlight was truly too intense, but out of the corner of his eye, Ji Xun caught a glimpse of a dark shadow darting across the garden.
Yet when he shifted his gaze to look directly at the garden, there were only a few trees drooping listlessly under the scorching sun.
Ji Xun subtly pressed his temples.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ji Xun said, “why are you still wearing a mask indoors?”
“Allergies,” Yingying answered nonchalantly.
She pushed the only glass in front of Ji Xun, then opened the sparkling water and poured it in.
“I’ll add some ice,” Ji Xun said.
“Suit yourself.”
Ji Xun reached for the ice cubes. As he did, he discreetly moved the silver spoon in the bowl, reflecting the sunlight directly into Yingying’s eyes.
Yingying instantly squinted.
Taking advantage of the moment, Ji Xun dropped the ice cubes heavily into the glass. The sparkling water splashed high, landing on Yingying’s mask.
“I’m so sorry, I was too heavy-handed.” Ji Xun quickly apologized, pulling out a tissue to help wipe her face. “It didn’t get in your eyes, did it?”
“Don’t touch me, I’ll do it myself!” Yingying barked, brushing Ji Xun’s hand away. She tensely pulled up the dislodged portion of her mask. Still uneasy after pulling it up, she opened her handbag, took out a compact mirror, and inspected her face.
Of course, nothing was wrong with Yingying’s face.
Those few drops of sparkling water hadn’t even ruined her makeup, yet she remained intensely, almost neurotically, preoccupied with adjusting the edges of her mask, completely ignoring Ji Xun sitting right in front of her.
“Let’s talk about the collaboration,” Ji Xun said.
“Collaboration? Forget it, I don’t have time right now. Talk to my assistant…”
“It’s not a collaboration about my book,” Ji Xun said. “It’s about her.”
Yingying snapped her eyes away from the mirror. Her gaze, piercing past the edge of the compact, shot straight at Ji Xun like a poisoned arrow.
“You know her—Huo Qiying.” Ji Xun’s voice was gentle yet resolute, leaving Yingying no room for denial. “I want to know everything about Huo Qiying. Her appearance, her story, everything you know about her. Don’t refuse me. After all, you’ve already taken something from her.”
He stared at Yingying.
“You’ve had plastic surgery… This face belongs to Huo Qiying, doesn’t it?”
Clutching her handbag, Yingying abruptly stood up. Her mask caved inward as if she were opening her mouth to scream, but before any sound could escape, a dark shadow burst through the unlatched French window.
The shadow Ji Xun had spotted out of the corner of his eye earlier hadn’t been an illusion. It was a real person.
It was actually Zhang Chunhua, who was supposed to be at the nursing home!
Zhang Chunhua rushed in and grabbed Yingying. Whether she was lucid or confused, she tangled herself with Yingying’s hands, repeating over and over: “The thing, the thing, give it back to me, you can’t take that thing…”
The shriek in Yingying’s throat finally erupted—a piercing, high-pitched screech that felt as if it were dragged from the depths of her throat and hung from the rafters, unbearable to listen to.
Protecting her handbag, she shoved her mother away: “You’re crazy!”
She claimed her mother was crazy, but her own face, exposed beneath the shifting mask, distorted into something meaner than madness.
The mother and daughter wrestled before Ji Xun’s eyes. Their clothes grew disheveled, the mask fell off, and the handbag flew into the air. The zipperless bag gaped open, vomiting its contents like a turning stomach—lipstick, eyeshadow, tissues, a wallet, scattering like a shower of flowers.
Ji Xun’s gaze, and everyone else’s, locked onto the pink wallet flying through mid-air.
The wallet flung open from the momentum. Inside its transparent card slot sat a black-and-white old photograph.
The moment this photograph appeared, everything in the surroundings blurred into a vignette. Within the retina, there was only the image of the person in the photograph, drawing closer and clearer.
Living inside that old photograph was a young woman.
A teenage girl, even.
She was beautiful—a unique, peculiar beauty that defied precise description.
She drifted gracefully like a petal, a beam of light, slowly descending from the sky.
An old, withered hand snatched her. Before the owner of that aged hand could rejoice, another young hand grabbed her as well. Neither would yield, both desperate to claim her as their own.
A beautiful thing must be possessed exclusively!
The two pairs of hands pulled in opposite directions, ripping the wallet apart and tearing the photograph.
A sharp, tearing screech, like a chainsaw, buzzed agonizingly against the eardrums.
Ji Xun watched as a jagged rip cut right through her. The two fighting women saw it too, freezing in place with terror and dread. All the chaos froze in that exact instant, leaving only the two halves of the photograph drifting weightlessly through the air.
The top half fell first, her soulful eyes gazing back with a charming look; then the bottom half drifted down, her elegant lips gently upturned.
The photograph hit the ground.
A blood-red flower bloomed upon the floor.
A cold shiver rippled through Ji Xun’s entire body.
