Chapter 58 p2
Two days later, in a luxurious villa…
A woman with long, wavy hair, dressed in a red dress, her features as vibrant and alluring as a rose, led a man by his tie, her grip firm, her smile playful.
The man, his face pale and his expression slightly anxious, was undeniably handsome, his features delicate and refined.
She led him to her room, closing the door behind them, then, releasing his tie, turned to face him, her smile widening.
“I’m Dan Yan. What was your name again?”
The man, forcing a smile, replied, “Jiejie, my name is Li Xu.” [Older Sister]
Dan Yan laughed, her red lips curving into a seductive smile.
Then, she walked over to a nearby drawer and pulled out a collar, a small name tag dangling from it.
She gently fastened the collar around Li Xu’s neck.
“This is my first gift to you. Be a good boy, and I’ll engrave your name on it tomorrow.”
Li Xu nodded, his anxiety growing.
He had heard rumors about Dan Yan’s eccentricities, but he didn’t know the details.
Dan Yan’s gaze lingered on his face, her long, red fingernails tracing his cheek.
“From today onwards, you’re mine.”
Li Xu was about to nod when her smile suddenly turned cold, her voice a menacing whisper.
“My dog.”
Li Xu froze, forcing a smile.
“Jiejie…”
The next moment, he finally understood the true nature of Dan Yan’s madness.
She slapped him hard across the face, the force of the blow splitting his lip, drawing blood.
Then, her high heels clicking against the floor, she walked over to him, her voice a mocking laugh.
“My dear doggy, dogs don’t talk. You have much to learn.”
Social climbing wasn’t always smooth sailing. Sometimes, you encountered cunning opponents, and sometimes, you encountered crazy ones.
Xin Yao, however, unaware of her girlfriend’s actions, her focus entirely on her work, continued filming.
Her acting had improved significantly.
Having witnessed Wen Xin’s powerful performance, she had been inspired, her understanding of the craft deepening, her own skills growing.
She had broken through her plateau, her progress rapid.
To maintain the emotional distance required by their roles, she and Xu Jingyu weren’t seeing each other every day.
So, arriving on set, she easily slipped into character, her heart aching for Lu Duanjing’s pain and despair.
Lu Duanjing had escaped.
During her mother’s funeral, with the help of the nanny and the other women in the household, she had fled the suffocating confines of the Lu residence.
She had taken some money with her, and the small shop she had opened for the orphanage had also generated some income, ensuring her financial security.
Despite her own grief and despair, she had still thought of the orphans, her kindness unwavering.
Before leaving, she had secretly met with her cousin, entrusting her with the remaining money and the shop, asking her to continue caring for the children.
Then, she had contacted a friend of Wen Sigu’s, a teacher at the school, asking her to deliver a letter to Wen Sigu, who was still confined to her room.
In the letter, she had asked Wen Sigu if she wanted to leave with her. If so, she would be waiting for her at her small, rented apartment, until dawn.
Against all odds, the letter had reached Wen Sigu.
And Wen Sigu, of course, had agreed.
She hadn’t hesitated for a moment.
The next evening, as her family was forcing her into a car, about to send her abroad, she had found an opportunity, knocking them unconscious and stealing the car.
In her pocket, close to her heart, were two boat tickets, given to her by her friend.
Tonight, she would return to Lu Duanjing, and together, they would escape, sailing away at dawn, towards a new life.
Her hands gripping the steering wheel, her heart pounding, she thought: Duanjing, wait for me. I’m coming.
She drove as fast as she could, the sky darkening as she neared her destination.
It was almost midnight.
Just an hour more, and she would be with Lu Duanjing again.
But fate had other plans.
A loud bang echoed through the night.
One of her tires had blown, the car spinning out of control, careening towards the side of the road.
Wen Sigu wrestled with the steering wheel, but it was no use. The car crashed, the impact throwing her against the dashboard.
She lay there, dazed, her head bleeding, then, as she tried to sit up, she felt something cold and hard against her temple.
A gun.
A dark figure stood outside the broken window, their voice a menacing whisper.
“You’re Wen Sigu. Tell me where the medicine and the man are, and I’ll let you live.”
Wen Sigu slowly lifted her head.
The shattered glass reflected in her eyes, her mind racing, the memories of the past few weeks flashing before her.
She knew what the figure was talking about, the medicine, the man. She had been the one to hide them.
It had been a while ago.
After the slum massacre.
A figure, desperate to escape, their face illuminated by the flickering flames, had caught Wen Sigu’s attention.
It was the beggar she and Lu Duanjing had rescued during their medical outreach trip.
His companion had been trying to pull him back, his voice urgent.
“Just a little longer! You have a more important mission! Go!”
His companion had sacrificed himself, and the beggar, tears streaming down his face, had escaped.
And then Wen Sigu, having witnessed the massacre, had investigated, the report she had received hinting at something to do with medicine.
The government had claimed they were pursuing a drug dealer.
But it was a lie. Why would they go to such lengths for a simple drug dealer?
Wen Sigu, using her connections, had finally uncovered the truth.
The “drug dealer,” the beggar, was actually a respected scientist.
He had acquired a new drug, and its formula, from abroad, a breakthrough in medical science.
In their time, medicine was more valuable than gold, more precious than life itself.
He had wanted to bring the drug and the formula back to China, to save lives, to heal the sick.
But there were those who wanted to steal it, to profit from it, both within and outside the country, their greed driving them to attempt to assassinate him, forcing him into hiding, his life reduced to that of a beggar, constantly on the run.
The slum massacre had been a botched attempt to capture him. He had escaped.
Wen Sigu loved her country.
Despite its flaws, its corruption, its decay, she loved the land that had given her life.
And as a doctor, she knew the importance of the drug and its formula, the potential it held to save countless lives.
She had been following the scientist’s story, offering him protection whenever she could, even though they had never met.
And then, by a strange twist of fate, she had encountered him in the remote village where she and Lu Duanjing had been conducting their medical outreach.
She had recognized him instantly, her face paling. “It’s you!”
The scientist, disguised as a beggar, despite his severe injuries, had tried to run away.
Wen Sigu, her voice low and urgent, had said, “I know who you are. I’m a doctor. You can trust me. This place isn’t safe. Come with me.”
She was a doctor.
And because she was a doctor, she understood the importance of the drug and its formula. Risking her own life, she had helped him escape, hiding him and the precious cargo he carried.
The memory ended abruptly.
The dark figure outside the car pressed the gun harder against Wen Sigu’s temple, their voice cold.
“Tell me where the medicine and the man are. Lead us to him, and we’ll let you go.”
Wen Sigu, her head resting on the steering wheel, her forehead bleeding, her eyes flickering in the dim light, wanted to live.
She couldn’t die. Duanjing was waiting for her. They were supposed to leave together at dawn.
She couldn’t die!
But then, the image of the injured scientist, huddled in the haystack, flashed through her mind.
And the images of countless others, their bodies broken, their spirits unbroken, fighting for their country, their sacrifices a testament to their unwavering patriotism.
The mothers who couldn’t afford medicine, forced to bury their children.
The nameless heroes, risking their lives to protect the drug and its formula, their sacrifices a beacon of hope in a world of darkness.
Countless lives, the lives of her countrymen, depended on this drug.
How could she betray them?
Just as she had told Duanjing, they were all insignificant, like dust motes in the wind, yet they all had a duty to fulfill.
In the quiet darkness of the deserted street, Wen Sigu looked at the shattered car window, her own voice echoing in her ears.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was the expected answer. They were all stubborn, these patriots, their loyalty unwavering.
And their true motive wasn’t just the drug, but Wen Sigu herself.
If they could get the information from her, it would be a bonus, but their primary target was Wen Sigu, a symbol of resistance, her defiance a threat to their power.
They had to eliminate her.
She had founded a school, helped the poor, offered free medical care, and now she had even helped smuggle the drug. She was becoming too dangerous.
So, whether she talked or not, she wouldn’t be leaving this alley alive.
They would have tortured her for information, but they didn’t have time.
A gunshot echoed through the night, the sound sharp and final, the blood splattering against the broken window.
Wen Sigu, her consciousness fading, her fingers trembling, reached for the boat tickets in her pocket.
But her hand was weak, and the tickets slipped from her grasp, fluttering out the window.
Like a dying ember, a final spark of life flared within her, and she opened the car door, stumbling out, reaching for the tickets.
She fell to the ground, the two small tickets just inches away.
But she couldn’t reach them.
She crawled forward, her bloodied hand reaching out, her fingertips almost touching the edge of one of the tickets.
But just as she was about to grasp it, her strength failed her.
She died there, in the cold, dark alley, her body undiscovered until morning.
In the dim moonlight, the date on the bloodstained tickets was clearly visible: tomorrow morning, at dawn.
Just a few more hours, and the sun would rise.
But for Wen Sigu, it would never rise again.
Someone was waiting for her, but she would never arrive.
Duanjing.
This winter is so cold.
I can’t be with you next spring.
I’m sorry.
My Duanjing.
Meanwhile, in her small, rented apartment, Lu Duanjing waited.
She had sent the letter to Wen Sigu, the address of her hiding place clearly written.
If Wen Sigu wanted to leave with her, she would come here.
But Lu Duanjing didn’t know when she would arrive, or if she would arrive at all.
She waited, her days and nights blurring together, the flickering candle flame her only companion.
Tonight, as she sat there, the candlelight illuminating her face, a sudden wave of anxiety washed over her, tears welling up in her eyes.
Then, her emotions overwhelming her, she buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing through the quiet room.
Sigu, my Sigu.
Where are you?
Are you even coming?
She would never know the answer.
Until the end of her days, she would never know that her beloved had been racing towards her, determined to escape with her, to see the spring together.
The last two scenes of the film, Xu Jingyu’s death scene and Xin Yao’s solitary vigil, were filmed simultaneously.
Xu Jingyu, covered in fake blood, her hair slightly disheveled, her beauty enhanced by a touch of vulnerability, stood up, the set erupting in applause.
Her performance had been breathtaking, the raw emotion, the intensity of her despair, bringing tears to the eyes of the onlookers.
As she stood there, the congratulations of the crew echoing around her, some still crying, others smiling, someone rushing forward with a bouquet of flowers, they discussed the final shots, the wrap-up photos.
Xu Jingyu, brushing the dust from her clothes, walked towards Xin Yao.
“We can take the photos later.”
Director Gao, knowing where she was going, didn’t try to stop her.
She had deliberately withheld the final scenes of the script, wanting to maintain the emotional distance between the actors.
Xu Jingyu’s character died, her story ending there, unaware of Lu Duanjing’s fate.
And Xin Yao, as Lu Duanjing, didn’t know if Wen Sigu had received her letter, or if she had even wanted to leave with her, or where she had gone.
Xin Yao’s current state of uncertainty, her anxiety and her longing, were perfect for the scene. She couldn’t allow Xu Jingyu to disrupt it.
But Xu Jingyu was unstoppable. Director Gao could only offer a warning.
“This is the last time! You two can’t see each other until Xin Yao’s scenes are finished! And don’t tell her how your character dies!”
Xu Jingyu, without turning back, simply replied, “I know.”
Wanting to maintain her composure, she changed out of her bloodstained costume and cleaned herself up before going to see Xin Yao.
Xin Yao, having just finished filming an emotionally charged crying scene, was still in character, sitting quietly in her dressing room, lost in thought.
The door opened behind her, and she turned, her gaze meeting Xu Jingyu’s in the soft light.
Xu Jingyu was smiling, her expression gentle and warm.
“I heard Miss Bunny was crying. May I offer her a hug?”
Having just filmed a scene of unrequited love, a scene of waiting and longing, Xin Yao understood the pain of a love that might never be realized.
But Xu Jingyu, the woman who loved her more than anything, would never make her wait.
No matter the obstacles, no matter the distance, she would always find her way back to Xin Yao.
Xin Yao’s eyes filled with tears, and she stood up, her arms outstretched.
“Hug me.”
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