Chapter 9: 009(1)
After the call ended, Qi SiJia didn’t immediately add Meng Jiang.
She finished cleaning, posted the demolition notice in the tenant group chat, and then reluctantly opened WeChat. She typed Meng Jiang’s number into the search bar.
Meng Jiang’s profile picture appeared.
A white background, red lips, a luxury lipstick shaped like a “Q” being applied.
The image could be interpreted as the “Q”-shaped lipstick kissing Meng Jiang’s lips.
Almost reflexively, Qi SiJia’s fingers trembled.
She grabbed the water glass beside her and gulped down several mouthfuls of cold water to calm herself.
Looking at Meng Jiang’s profile picture again, her expression was unreadable.
So blatant, what was she playing at?
She recalled the fan forum post detailing Meng Jiang’s supposed lingering affection for Miss Q.
…
Qi SiJia couldn’t stop herself from overthinking.
Her finger hovered over the “Add Friend” button. Finally, she clicked “Back,” frustrated, unsure how to handle this.
She scrolled aimlessly through her contacts.
A dizzying array of profile pictures, many of whom she didn’t recognize. When had she added them?
As a socially anxious person who avoided unnecessary interaction, she only recognized a few, regularly contacting even fewer.
Ninety percent of her contacts were dormant.
Adding or not adding Meng Jiang wouldn’t make any difference.
They could even delete each other after the money was transferred.
But Qi SiJia couldn’t bring herself to do that. She overthought every interpersonal interaction, agonizing over every detail.
And with Meng Jiang, she was even more cautious.
Perhaps she didn’t even know why.
Unable to figure it out, seeking advice was also impossible. Almost no one knew about their relationship during college.
She couldn’t even ask Ye QianQian.
Qi SiJia frowned, racking her brain. The only viable option was to ask her fans.
A message popped up:
[@Everyone, how many of you are currently working in Ning Cheng?]
The message was from the class group chat for the 2017 Drama Club’s “Huadan” production team.
Back then, the Drama Club was the largest club at Ning University, attracting substantial funding and frequent commercial performance offers.
The club was both financially and talent-wise strong.
Members of the 2017 Drama Club were among the top students in the university’s Performing Arts and Directing departments.
“Huadan” was a stage play created by the club’s best talents. Except for Qi SiJia, almost everyone involved had become successful in the industry.
The message was from Li Ang, who, after graduation, became a host. Five years later, he was a regular on a popular variety show and a potential successor to the current top host, Jin Xiao.
Li Ang, along with Meng Jiang and Fu ChuChu, was one of the most popular alumni.
The appearance of a real celebrity in the chat brought out many lurkers.
“Here, of course.”
“Aren’t you busy today, kid?”
“When are you free, Director Li? Let’s have a get-together.”
…
After a flurry of greetings and flattery,
Li Ang, seemingly busy, finally replied after a long while:
[@Everyone, have you seen the trending topics? Our club president is in Ning Cheng.]
“My goddess is back!”
“Ah, it’s been years. She’s still as amazing as ever. I regret not looking at her more back then. Now I can’t even see her.”
“She’s Meng Jiang, a living dream.”
…
“It’s been five or six years since I’ve seen Meng Jiang or everyone,” Li Ang said. “Should we invite her to a dinner? My treat.”
“Great!”
“If you can convince Meng Jiang,” even Fu ChuChu, usually a lurker, chimed in, “count me in.”
“I want to go too!”
“Me too!”
…
“By the way, Director Li, you’re quite well-connected now, being able to invite Meng Jiang?”
This clearly hit a nerve. Li Ang replied modestly, “Of course, I can’t invite her based on my status. But seeing everyone so enthusiastic, I’ll shamelessly invite Teacher Ding. Let’s see who would refuse our teacher. (evil grin)”
He then tagged Teacher Ding.
…
Li Ang’s words were carefully crafted. He initiated the topic, wanting to reconnect with Meng Jiang, but aware of their status difference, he shifted the responsibility to their teacher.
Everyone saw through his intentions, but the prospect of a reunion with Meng Jiang was too tempting to resist.
Alumni reunions were often veiled opportunities for comparison and one-upmanship.
Qi SiJia skimmed the messages, uninterested, and exited the group chat.
The conversation offered no solutions to her problem.
Unsure about adding Meng Jiang, Qi SiJia resorted to her usual method of crowdsourcing opinions.
She logged out of WeChat and opened Weibo.
Her Weibo account was practically dormant. Her profile picture was a six-year-old photo of Big Orange sleeping.
She hadn’t changed it in years.
Her latest pinned post was from two months ago, announcing the start of “Submerged”: I’ve updated Chapter 1 of “Submerged” on the Yuri reading platform. Mobile version: [link]. PC version: [link].
Qi SiJia rarely used Weibo, preferring to communicate with her readers through author’s notes.
But having just posted a break notice, she couldn’t immediately go back on her word.
It would seem disingenuous.
Ignoring the 99+ unread messages, she created a poll.
#FirstLove# Your ex, whom you broke up with long ago and will never get back together with, suddenly asks to add you on WeChat. After adding them, you discover their profile picture is the first letter of your name. What would you do?
A: Add them, treat them as a stranger, delete each other after the matter is resolved.
B: Don’t add them, ignore them.
After creating the poll, to prevent Meng Jiang from seeing it, Qi SiJia set it to “Followers Only.”
Her Weibo account was officially verified by the Yuri reading platform. She had over 100,000 followers, a decent number but not enough to generate significant buzz. And her real-life identity was well-hidden. Even Wei YunFang and Qi Jun didn’t know about her online persona.
Meng Jiang, after five years of no contact, certainly wouldn’t.
With that in mind, Qi SiJia posted the poll, planning to check the results the next day.
The weather was getting colder. Tomorrow was her first day at work. Qi SiJia put down her phone, went into the storage room, and retrieved her protective gear: coveralls, gas mask, and cotton gloves, placing them under the UV sterilizer.
After that, she made herself a cup of lemon water.
Back in her study, she plugged her phone in to charge.
Checking it later, she saw a barrage of messages.
Both the tenant group chat and the alumni group chat had 99+ replies.
Qi SiJia ignored them, noticing two new contact requests.
She clicked on the first one.
[SiJia, hello, this is Teacher Ding.]
[I ran into your mother recently and heard you’re working in Ning Cheng. It’s been five years since graduation. I miss you very much. I’m inviting you to the 2017 Drama Club reunion.]
Li Ang was truly resourceful, using their kind, plump Teacher Ding to send personal reunion invitations to every member.
It was impossible to refuse a teacher’s invitation.
Qi SiJia opened her drawer, grabbed a full bottle of heart pills, and reluctantly accepted.
After replying to Teacher Ding, she opened the second contact request.
The profile picture was a generic smiley face, no name, utterly impersonal.
Qi SiJia opened it.
MJ’s alt account: [This is Meng Jiang, please accept.]
Seeing the name Meng Jiang, Qi SiJia was momentarily dumbfounded, her fingers cold as she clicked on the flower-shaped profile picture.
WeChat ID: MJ
She instinctively straightened, leaning closer for a better look. This WeChat account was different from the one she’d found earlier using the phone number. It seemed to be an alternate account.
Before she could ask, Meng Jiang, as if anticipating her thoughts, said aloofly: [That’s my main account. It’s not convenient to add strangers. Add this one.]
Meng Jiang always spoke to strangers in this tone, though she’d become more restrained in front of the camera in recent years.
But there was a hint of displeasure in her message.
Qi SiJia pretended not to notice, unlike before, when she would have asked if something was wrong.
[Understood,] Qi SiJia replied.
Meng Jiang’s online smile faltered: [I say that, and you’re not angry?]
After accepting the request, Qi SiJia replied: [Of course not, celebrity privacy is important. I’ll delete your contact information later. Don’t worry, no one else will know…]
Before she could finish, Meng Jiang transferred 13210.02 yuan.
Attached was a receipt from Huaqing Garden.
[Did my profile picture scare you?]
Meng Jiang: [Main account.]
It did.
Qi SiJia pursed her lips: [You—]
[Tsk,] Meng Jiang replied, [You actually intended to add my main account?]
Qi SiJia: [Didn’t you tell me to add you?]
Meng Jiang ignored her: [Think what you want. @MengJiangLuxuryBrand]
She then sent a link, abruptly ending the conversation, showing no desire for further interaction.
She seemed even more eager than Qi SiJia to end the awkward exchange.
Her actions spoke volumes about her desire for distance.
Qi SiJia, bewildered, clicked on the link, browsing through Meng Jiang’s luxury brand endorsements.
The lipstick in the profile picture wasn’t a reference to Miss Q.
It was the logo of a luxury lipstick brand Meng Jiang endorsed, its design coincidentally resembling a “Q.”
Qi SiJia tapped her finger on the screen, amused.
Her encounter with Meng Jiang had clearly rattled her. Ignoring her would have been simpler.
Now, Qi SiJia had no intention of deleting Meng Jiang.
It would seem suspicious.
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