**28**

The night was truly too quiet, so quiet that one could hear the sound of love growing in the darkness, making people uneasy, yet also addicted.

Because she turned around, because she took just a few short steps closer, the light in Chi Sheng’s eyes was reignited. She stood on the stairs, looking up at Ruan Yinmeng, smiling and asking, “Have you changed your mind?”

The night was too deep, and the lighting was too dim; Chi Sheng’s face looked especially gentle, with a hint of surprised joy in her smile.

However, Ruan Yinmeng regretted her hesitation and softness.

She knew that every time she gave in, every time she softened, it would only lead Chi Sheng to false hopes and cause her even more pain.

Chi Sheng looked at the silent woman before him and gradually realized that things were not as she thought; his heart sank heavily.

“Chi Sheng,” Ruan Yinmeng spoke up.

The smile at the corner of Chi Sheng’s lips faded, but he still looked at Ruan Yinmeng.

Ruan Yinmeng held onto the railing, her voice weary: “I regret provoking you.”

A wave of panic flashed across Chi Sheng’s face. She forced a smile, trying to calm down, and asked, “Why? Don’t you like my eyes now? Didn’t you say that when you first saw my eyes, you wanted to…”

Ruan Yinmeng interrupted her: “You don’t understand me at all. You don’t know what kind of person I am, what kind of past I have, and you don’t know how hard the world is. We won’t have a future.”

Chi Sheng hesitated, but it wasn’t out of fear or a desire to retreat; it was a kind of inferiority she couldn’t even explain herself. Maybe because she was fourteen years younger than Ruan Yinmeng, she hadn’t yet experienced the harsh world Ruan spoke of, making her seem especially ignorant and willful.

She said softly, “But we haven’t even tried, how can we be sure there won’t be a future?”

Her stubborn, headstrong attitude made Ruan Yinmeng want to laugh. Probably only young people at this age would have such courage.

“No need to try, I just know.” She reeked of alcohol and smoke, standing in the dim light, heavily made up and exhausted, like a rose that had bloomed to its end, ready to wither and fade at any moment.

Chi Sheng felt a sharp sting in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to give up: “Then I’ll wait for you here every night.”

“What if I move away?” Ruan Yinmeng hardened her heart.

If she moved away and changed her phone number, it would be completely over between them.

Chi Sheng gritted his teeth, a mix of panic, unwillingness, and frustration swirling inside him. He looked into her eyes, those very eyes that had first drawn him to her, and said, “I will find you.”

This time, Ruan Yinmeng truly laughed out loud, laughing at her naivety: “Where do you think you can find me? The world is so vast, finding someone is like searching for a drop of water in the ocean. How do you plan to find me?”

But Chi Sheng did not smile; she didn’t even show the slightest hesitation, not even a flicker in her eyes. She spoke slowly and clearly, word by word: “You can try. I will keep looking for you, and if I can’t find you, I will keep looking. In short, I won’t give up. You can try and see if what I say is true.”

Her intense emotions stunned Ruan Yinmeng. She looked at Chi Sheng, who let her scrutinize her. Ruan Yinmeng felt as if something was blocking her chest, making it hard to breathe.

After nearly half a minute, she finally said to Chi Sheng, “Have you received the admission letter?”

She suddenly changed the subject, but Chi Sheng had already realized what she was about to say. She stubbornly stared at her, clenching her teeth tightly.

Ruan Yinmeng shook her head and continued, “Be sensible, you have a bright future ahead, don’t waste your time on someone like me.”

Chi Sheng was about to ask her why she had the right to make decisions for him, but then met Ruan Yinmeng’s deep gaze.

“Don’t waste it on a prostitute,” she said.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening came from upstairs.

Chi Sheng did not move. Ruan Yinmeng glanced at her, then turned and went inside, closing the door before the upstairs neighbor came down.

Chi Sheng could tell that her movements were frantic and urgent, as if afraid of being discovered.

Before, it was she who feared others finding out about their relationship; now, the roles had reversed.

Suddenly, Chi Sheng realized that they truly were in darkness. Even if one day they did fall in love, it would only be able to happen secretly, hidden away in the shadows as they clung to each other.

The neighbor was startled when they saw Chi Sheng and said in dialect, “Chi Sheng, it’s not even dawn yet, why are you here?”

Chi Sheng seemed to have turned into a statue; his eyes moved slightly, but he didn’t say a word.

Fortunately, the neighbor didn’t pay much attention and went downstairs carrying a vegetable basket.

Chi Sheng didn’t even know how he got back home, back to his own room.

She sat down, leaning against the windowsill, and looking up she could see the balcony of Ruan Yinmeng, the light inside casting a glow.

She just looked up like that, watching the light glow, watching the curtains being drawn, watching the light go out, watching the sky brighten outside.

Tears fell without her realizing when, her whole face damp and cold. She buried her head in her arms, holding back the sobs, but her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

Ning Zhi couldn’t continue filming through her tears.

The filming was paused.

This was the first time Chi Sheng tasted the bitterness of love; the person she liked was not someone who could stand openly in the sunlight.

One of them was in a dark corner, the other bathed in sunlight, born to repel each other.

Shen Yizhi came in from outside, sat beside her, and handed her a tissue.

Ning Zhi took the tissue and wiped her tears, clutching the tissue tightly in her hand.

She said she regretted getting involved with you, said you didn’t understand me, said we wouldn’t have a future, but she never said she didn’t like you.

She gave so many reasons to refuse, but never once denied her feelings.

She heard the door open and fled in panic, afraid of being discovered, even closing the door quietly on purpose; she was afraid of disturbing Chi Sheng.

Prostitutes are already looked down upon, so it doesn’t matter who they’re with; there’s no fear of being seen. She was concerned about Chi Sheng—if they were seen together, the gossip would target him. She knew how painful it was to be talked about and couldn’t bear for Chi Sheng to suffer the same fate as her.

Ning Zhi chattered on, looking at Shen Yizhi as if to tell her that she understood everything, and Chi Sheng did too.

It is precisely because of understanding that it becomes even more sorrowful.

Precisely because she understood, she found it even harder to let go.

“I know,” Shen Yizhi comforted her, “Chi Sheng understands, and so do you.”

Ning Zhi nodded, tightly clutching the crumpled tissue.

Meilan walked over and examined Ning Zhi’s eyes; fortunately, they weren’t swollen.

“Did that take just now?” Ning Zhi asked.

Mei Lan said, “No, it didn’t work. The crying was off; you can’t cry so freely here. You have to hold back a bit, and the emotion can’t be too intense; it needs to be suppressed.”

She didn’t elaborate much because Ning Zhi understood. She was now deeply immersed in the role, grasping even the smallest details very precisely.

Ning Zhi thought back to her performance just now and also felt it was a bit off.

Chi Sheng would cry, but she had to hold back her tears. She tasted the bitterness of emotions and understood their situation—a kind of pain that was suffocating and could not be shouted out.

Meilan finished speaking and then left.

Only Ning Zhi and Shen Yizhi remained here, along with some crew members doing their own tasks.

Ning Zhi realized that she had transformed from initially resisting and fearing getting into character to now being calm and proactive.

She looked at Shen Yizhi, and Shen Yizhi was also looking at her.

“Did I act terribly just now?” she asked.

Shen Yizhi thought for a moment, not directly saying whether it was good or bad, but said, “You just cried as if you had been wronged for a long time, yet you didn’t dare to cry out loud.”

Ning Zhi pressed her lips tightly and looked at her.

Shen Yizhi raised her hand, and for a moment, Ning Zhi thought she wanted to stroke her eyes like Ruan Yinmeng did to Chi Sheng. She obediently closed her eyes, but Shen Yizhi only curled her index finger and gently rubbed back and forth at the corner of her eye.

When Ning Zhimang opened her eyes in a daze, Shen Yizhi had already gotten up.

The makeup artist arrived to touch up Ning Zhi’s makeup.

She watched Shen Yizhi’s departing back and recalled how, before filming started that evening, Shen Yizhi asked her to distinguish between herself and Ruan Yinmeng after the movie wrapped. She said she didn’t want to distinguish.

Actually, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to distinguish; she just didn’t want the filming to end.

If the movie could keep filming, they could see each other both on and off the set, close enough to touch.

The final few seconds of the crying scene were retaken more than a dozen times before it was accepted; by the time they finished filming, it was almost dawn.

Meilan gave her a day off because she had cried too much and was mentally exhausted, with bloodshot eyes. In such a state, she couldn’t handle the upcoming shoots, so it was better to rest well for a day.

Ning Zhi did not refuse and returned to the hotel.

The ice cream that Shen Yizhi gave her was also taken back to the hotel with her and put into the refrigerator.

She didn’t have the heart to eat it.

She lay down and slept for half a day, then attended an oil painting class for half a day, scribbling randomly on paper all afternoon. In the evening, she returned to the hotel and went to bed early to rest and recharge.

That night felt like a thick barrier was placed between Chao Chisheng and Ruan Yinmeng, separating them.

One evening, Grandma suddenly asked, “Old Qin upstairs said you were standing on the third-floor stairs before dawn a few days ago. What happened?”

Chisheng knew the neighbor would probably tell Grandma, so early in the morning he came up with an excuse: “I wanted to go for a morning run, but after going downstairs I was still sleepy, so I came back. I passed the floors and ended up on the third floor.”

Grandma didn’t doubt him. Chisheng had been sensible since he was young, never lied, and never gave adults any reason to worry. She believed everything he said.

“Don’t go jogging so early in the morning, sleep a little longer. It’s still fine to go jogging around six or seven o’clock.” Grandma nagged, “I’ll make breakfast for you, so you can eat when you get back from your run.”

Chi Sheng smiled and said, “Okay, if I go jogging again, I’ll let you know in advance.”

Grandma laughed, happy that her granddaughter was sensible.

After dinner, Chi Sheng washed the dishes. Naturally, Grandma wouldn’t let her do housework, but Chi Sheng didn’t want Grandma to work hard either. As long as she was home, she would share some of the chores—wiping, sweeping, washing—very simple tasks.

Over time, Grandma couldn’t refuse her and had no choice but to let her do it.

“Chi Sheng, your admission letter hasn’t arrived?” Grandma asked, fanning herself with a large palm fan.

The breeze from the palm fan made Chisheng’s hair sway. She drained the washed dishes and put them into the cupboard, replying, “Not yet, they just submitted their applications last week.”

Then we’ll have to wait a bit longer,” Grandma sighed, still worried, “With so many acceptance letters, do you think any might get lost in the mail?

Chisheng smiled reassuringly, “No, such important things wouldn’t get lost. They definitely have to be delivered to the students.”

“That’s good,” Grandma said, though she still looked somewhat uneasy.

The TV was on in the living room, the picture a bit blurry. Chi Sheng went over and patted the large TV cabinet, and the image became clear.

She sat down beside her grandmother, watching the opera with her. After a while, her grandmother carefully examined Chi Sheng.

Chi Sheng turned and smiled, “Grandma, watch the TV, not me.”

Her grandmother didn’t look at the TV but said with concern, “Grandma feels you haven’t been very happy these past few days. Are you feeling down?”

Chi Sheng was stunned for a moment, then quickly shook her head with a smile: “I’m not in a bad mood, maybe it’s because I’m about to start university and still not used to it.”

It turned out to be because of this that Grandma comforted Chi Sheng: “There are many fun things at university, and you’re growing up, able to do many things now. Once you go to university, you’ll definitely like it.”

Chi Sheng nodded; she didn’t want Grandma to worry, so she agreed with whatever the elderly lady said, and this time was no exception.

But in her heart, she kept asking herself whether, after going to university and coming back, she would never see Ruan Yinmeng again.

With such worries, she couldn’t sleep soundly at night, tossing and turning, often sitting up to look at the dark road downstairs under the streetlight.

Until dawn, she heard footsteps in the distance. She quietly slipped out of the house, walked to the stairwell, and waited for Ruan Yinmeng to return.

Ruan Yinmeng appeared before her. She walked up the stairs and looked up to see her.

Chi Sheng neither smiled at her nor said anything, and didn’t press the apple warmed by her palm into her hand.

Ruan Yinmeng didn’t even look at her, passed by her, and went upstairs.

Chi Sheng stood still, listening to the door upstairs open, listening to her go inside, and listening to the door upstairs close.