When Lin Yuewei answered the phone, Qi Bailu hadn't fully woken up yet, but the faint sound of voices was enough to rouse him from his light slumber. Through the large, Chinese-style glass window, he could see Lin Yuewei’s silhouette as she stood outside smoking and talking on the phone against a backdrop of a pale winter sky.
Qi Bailu curled up on the sofa, his arm numb from sleep. He shifted his weight, turning over to stare at the ceiling, which was brightly lit by the overhead lamps. Although the room was heated, a slight chill still lingered. The thin wool blanket covering him was clearly insufficient, supplemented by two down jackets draped haphazardly over his body.
The call ended quickly. Lin Yuewei, who had gone out wearing only a sweater, came back in hugging her arms and muttering a curse about the cold. Seeing that Qi Bailu was awake, she unceremoniously reclaimed her jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and sat on the opposite sofa. "You're up? I bought breakfast. Get up and eat."
Qi Bailu saw the soy milk and fried dough sticks on the table. He stood up and headed to the bathroom, returning a moment later. Lin Yuewei was eating an egg-filled pancake while listening to BBC news on her phone.
"Are you going out today?" Qi Bailu asked.
"I have to meet a friend, but I won't be long. Just stay here and relax."
When Qi Bailu had shown up at her private studio in the middle of the night, Lin Yuewei had been hunched over her computer editing an experimental short film. When the doorbell rang, she thought she was hallucinating. She had opened the door to find him holding a suitcase, his clothes dusted with snowflakes, and she had nearly scolded him on the spot. Qi Bailu had followed her inside in silence. When she asked why he hadn't called ahead, he said he was afraid she might be asleep. As if he was certain she’d be there just because he showed up. Lin Yuewei had snapped, "Consider yourself lucky. This film is a month overdue, so I’ve been sleeping here every night. I don't have a bed for you; you'll have to take the sofa."
She had also asked, "Where would you have gone if I wasn't here?"
Qi Bailu said he could have gone to a hotel first and then figured something out. After all, his current savings weren't enough to buy property in Beijing.
Lin Yuewei hadn't asked what madness had possessed him in the middle of the night, but this morning's phone call allowed her to hazard a guess. She watched Qi Bailu pick up an egg-filled pancake and said, "Zheng Kunyu knows you're with me. That was him on the phone."
Qi Bailu took a sip of his soy milk, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. "What did you tell him?"
"What else could I say? I said you weren't here and told him to look elsewhere. He said you don't have any other friends in Beijing and couldn't possibly be anywhere else. He told me to tell you: 'Come back early.' Honestly, the man sounds pathological. Only someone like you could put up with him." Lin Yuewei insulted Zheng Kunyu flippantly, clearly unbothered, reclining lazily on the sofa as usual.
Qi Bailu ate his pancake in silence. Seeing his expression, Lin Yuewei knew he wouldn't return as Zheng Kunyu wished. "You can stay here for a few months," she said. "Just don't tell me you're planning to quit acting."
She didn't press him further. After finishing breakfast, she packed her things to leave. Lin Yuewei’s directing studio had only been renovated this year; Qi Bailu had only visited once briefly before. She gave him a tour of the rooms. The shelves in the living room were neatly lined with classic films. She told him that if he got bored, he could watch movies in the screening room.
The sky was dark today, and a light rain began to fall as Lin Yuewei left. The entrance to the studio opened into a sizable courtyard, filled with various green plants under the eaves and along the walkways—a vista of cold, damp greenery washed by the rain. Lin Yuewei warned him that people might drop by for work; she told him to open the door if he felt like it, and to kick them out if he didn't.
Qi Bailu knew he needed rest and time to think about his next steps. He had made up his mind: no matter what tricks Zheng Kunyu played, he could start over. He had savings, and Lin Yuewei would help him. He could find a new agency and terminate his contract with Zheng Kunyu. No matter how difficult the legal battle, the worst-case scenario was simply being reduced to an extra. Once the thought took root, he quickly gained confidence in his new life. However, he had clearly underestimated Zheng Kunyu’s ruthless methods.
By evening, Cheng Wenhui called. His voice sounded exhausted. "You saw the headlines, didn't you? What on earth is going on?"
Qi Bailu had indeed seen them. Even someone as unflappable as Lin Yuewei had been flying into a rage. She had called the PR firm, only for them to state explicitly that they would not provide any assistance.
"You know the person in that video isn't me," Qi Bailu said. "And I didn't do it."
"I know it's not you! I'm asking what happened between you and Zheng Kunyu!" Cheng Wenhui was frantic, even using Zheng Kunyu’s full name. "Weren't things fine before I left the other day? What did you do to make him want to drive you into a dead end? Do you realize you won't get any PR for this? If this sticks to you, your life is over!"
Qi Bailu knew. He knew all too well. On the computer screen before him, a deluge of comments scrolled by, every single one attacking him. For every ounce of praise he had once received, he was now receiving ten times the amount of vitriol. The words associated with his name were no longer "talented," "young and beautiful," or "Best Supporting Actor nominee," but "scumbag," "secret relationship," "influencer," and "Abortion-gate."
Strangely, seeing these words didn't make him feel particularly sad. This industry was full of instances where black was turned into white, whether witnessed firsthand or heard through rumors. Because they were so sensational, they often didn't feel real—now that it was happening to him, it felt like watching someone else's life. He knew of a female star whose career was destroyed overnight due to "infidelity," when in reality, she had only found a boyfriend because her husband was gay. Even after her downfall, she had suffered in silence to protect his secret, while the husband became even more popular by playing the "good father" persona. The truth didn't matter; what mattered was the "truth" the audience saw.
Qi Bailu knew who the person in the video was. After watching it from start to finish, he realized it was likely Chen Xiangfeng. Although the man wore a baseball cap that obscured his face, Chen Xiangfeng was the only person with a build, age, and style so similar to Qi Bailu’s—the man he had met briefly at that dinner party. The video quality was low; even Qi Bailu almost thought it was himself, let alone strangers being maliciously led by public opinion.
The female lead in the video was a model with tens of millions of followers on social media due to her extraordinary beauty. Coincidentally, she had once collaborated with Qi Bailu on an advertisement and had posted a photo of them on set, expressing her admiration for him. Now, Qi Bailu had no way to clear his name.
Lin Yuewei wanted to contact the model, but Qi Bailu stopped her. "It's useless," he said. "They came prepared." The model had surely been bought off; even the post accusing him of being a "scumbag" likely wasn't written by her. With just a flick of their fingers, they could push Qi Bailu into a bottomless abyss.
This situation wasn't without a way out. The reason the model hadn't directly named Qi Bailu was because Zheng Kunyu was waiting—waiting for Qi Bailu to make a choice. If Qi Bailu was "sensible," he would return immediately, beg for forgiveness, and act spoiled; there was still time to remain Zheng Kunyu’s canary. But if Qi Bailu was determined not to look back, Zheng Kunyu would rather destroy him.
Qi Bailu didn't respond the next day either. He stayed inside the studio. Lin Yuewei said she would try to find another way, but they both knew there was none. If Qi Bailu accepted this "script" Zheng Kunyu had meticulously written for him, his acting career was finished. He would carry this disgraceful reputation for the rest of his life. Even if he endured the humiliation and continued to perform, Zheng Kunyu would never let him have an easy time in this industry.
Lin Yuewei continued to run around, trying to make contacts for him. Qi Bailu sat under the eaves watching the rain. Yesterday’s sleet had turned entirely into cold rain today, pattering against the plants. It was then that he received another call from Cheng Wenhui.
"He's giving you three days," Cheng Wenhui said.
His voice held a hint of pity. "Today is the second day. Xiao Qi, don't gamble with your life. You know he means what he says. Come back."
Qi Bailu said nothing. Once Cheng Wenhui finished, he silently hung up. His fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white. The sound of the rain isolated him from the world, as if he were sitting there entirely alone. Qi Bailu didn't know how long he sat there or how long he spent thinking, but when the doorbell rang, his eyes finally moved, looking toward the iron gate beyond the curtain of rain.
Qi Bailu stood up, bracing himself against the armrest of the wicker lounge chair. Countless possibilities flashed through his mind regarding who it might be. But when he opened the door and saw Ruan Qiuji standing alone under an umbrella, it was truly unexpected.
Ruan Qiuji looked up when the door opened, his black umbrella slowly tilting back. Upon seeing the person before him, he also seemed slightly surprised. The rain drummed against the umbrella, and the cold, damp air was driven by the wind, biting deep into the bone. Ruan Qiuji didn't smile, nor did he offer a greeting. His expression seemed frozen by the weather, but his tone was at least gentle. He said softly, "You're here?"
His tone suggested he had been looking for him. "Are you here for Lin Yuewei?"
Ruan Qiuji gave a hum of affirmation. He closed his umbrella and stepped inside, standing directly in front of Qi Bailu, suddenly closing the distance between them. Today, Ruan Qiuji was wearing a soft cashmere scarf—the same one he had worn when they went skating. In one hand he held an exquisite box of pastries, and in the other, he held the handle of his umbrella, letting the tip rest quietly on the ground. His gaze drifted over Qi Bailu’s face, studying him.
"She's not here."
"Can I wait inside?" Ruan Qiuji’s tone was casual, but there was a somber shadow on his face, perhaps due to the weather. When he looked grim, he seemed difficult to read.
Qi Bailu couldn't think of a reason to refuse and let him in. Fortunately, Ruan Qiuji wasn't a man of many words. Qi Bailu brewed tea for him, and the two sat on the wicker chairs under the eaves. At first, there was no conversation; facing the flowing curtain of rain, one simply drank tea while the other stared blankly into space.
Holding the warm tea cup, Ruan Qiuji would occasionally glance at Qi Bailu, but Qi Bailu seemed entirely unaware. After a while, a "meow" suddenly broke through the sound of the rain. Ruan Qiuji turned his head to see Lin Yuewei’s cat emerging from the partially open living room door, pacing lazily. Ruan Qiuji set down his tea cup to watch it. The cat looked up, licking its paw warily. After a moment of staring, it walked straight to Ruan Qiuji’s feet and began to nibble on his suit trousers. Finding them unpalatable, it let out a disappointed cry.
Qi Bailu finally snapped out of his daze and called out, "Jeanne." Jeanne looked back at him, then suddenly leaped onto Ruan Qiuji’s lap.
