Chapter 6 — I Don't Want to Be a Ghostwriter Anymore

19. Lin Wanhua Stays Up Late Writing the Script

It was late at night. The Single Society was gradually sinking into silence. The lights in the living room had long since been turned off, leaving only a dim little light at the end of the hallway, with a faint glow slipping through the gap in a half-closed door.

Most of the tenants were already asleep. Occasionally, the night breeze slipped through the gaps in the old window frames, making the curtains sway gently. Every now and then, the sound of a motorcycle roaring past could be heard from the distant street, and then silence returned.

The light in Lin Wanhua’s room, however, was still on. The room was a mess, as if a battle had just taken place.

Reference books, scripts, magazines, and empty drink cans covered the desk. Several sheets of paper filled with plot ideas were scattered across the floor. The bed had not been made either. The quilt was crumpled into a heap, and several pieces of clothing she had changed out of were piled at the foot of the bed.

The only thing in perfect order was the laptop on the desk. Lines of text were rapidly appearing on the screen.

Lin Wanhua sat at the desk, leaning slightly forward, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Click, click, click...”

The crisp sound of the keyboard was especially clear in the room late at night.

She had already been sitting there for several hours. The coffee on the desk had long since gone cold, with only a little bitter black liquid left at the bottom of the cup. Wanhua rubbed her aching shoulders and stared at the words on the screen, murmuring softly to herself.

“This part... isn’t right.” She dragged the text back several lines with the mouse.

“The character would never talk like this... It sounds too fake.”

She deleted all the lines of dialogue she had just written.

After pausing for a few seconds, she started typing again.

“If this is the case... it should sound more natural.”

As she typed, she read the character’s dialogue aloud to herself.

“You think I don’t want to go back? I just... don’t have anywhere to go back to anymore.”

Wanhua suddenly stopped typing. She stared at that sentence for several seconds. For some reason, those words seemed to pierce straight into her own heart.

“I don’t have anywhere to go back to anymore...”

She softly repeated the sentence.

After a moment, she shook her head.

“No. It’s too tragic.”

She deleted the line again. Just as she was about to revise it, a faint rustling sound suddenly came from the desktop.

Wanhua frowned and looked down. A dark brown cockroach was slowly crawling over from the corner of the desk.

It crawled steadily across the desktop and, without the slightest hesitation, climbed right onto the laptop.

Finally, it stopped in the middle of the keyboard.

Wanhua froze. She stared at the cockroach, and the cockroach seemed to “stare” back at her without the slightest fear.

“...You’d better not touch my script.” Wanhua lowered her voice and warned it.

The cockroach moved its antennae.

Wanhua narrowed her eyes. “I’m warning you.”

The cockroach continued crawling forward.

Wanhua finally lost her patience.

“Hey!”

She quickly reached out and, with lightning-fast reflexes, pinned the cockroach down with three fingers.

“Got you!”

She grabbed the cockroach, stood up, and walked over to the window. As soon as she pushed it open, the night breeze blew straight into the room. Wanhua extended her fingers and unceremoniously flicked the cockroach outside.

“Go find your friends outside.”

With that, she closed the window.

She looked down at her fingers, making a disgusted face.

“Ugh...”

She pulled out a tissue, carefully wiped her fingers, then crumpled the tissue into a ball and threw it into the trash can.

The room became quiet again.

Wanhua returned to her desk and sat down. She glanced at the time.

It was already after two in the morning.

She rubbed her eyes and tiredly yawned.

“Just the last scene... I’ll go to sleep when I finish it.”

She said it to herself. But as soon as the words left her mouth, it was as if she had remembered something. She stared at the screen again.

Her fingers fell onto the keyboard once more.

“Click, click, click...”

The sound of the keyboard began again.

Outside the window, the city had long since fallen asleep.

But Lin Wanhua seemed to have completely forgotten the passage of time. To her, as long as the story was not finished, dawn had not yet arrived.

She continued working with her head down.

One word.

One line.

One scene.

Slowly, beneath the solitary light, an unfinished story began to come alive.

20. The Ghostwriter Behind the Head Writer

It was afternoon in the television station’s writers’ office, and the air was filled with the faint aroma of coffee.

The clock on the wall went tick-tock, tick-tock. Several writers sat hunched over their computers, rushing to meet deadlines, while the sounds of keyboards rose and fell one after another. The telephone rang from time to time, and outside the office came the producer’s voice urging the writers to finish their scripts. The entire floor was filled with a busy and tense atmosphere.

By the window, Lin Wanhua was sitting with her head down, revising the script for the next episode.

She had just deleted a section of dialogue when the telephone rang.

“Lin Wanhua, the head writer wants you to come in for a moment.”

The assistant’s voice came through the intercom.

Wanhua froze for a moment.

“Now?”

“Yes. Teacher Chai wants you to come over right away.”

“Okay, I understand.”

After hanging up, Wanhua looked at the densely covered pages on her desk. She had a vague feeling that something was about to happen.

For the past few months, she had spent almost all of her free time after work on the script.

A scene, a line of dialogue, a character’s turning point—she had repeatedly thought through every detail.

Recently, the ratings for the show had indeed been steadily climbing, and even her colleagues at the television station had begun discussing it privately.

“Could it be that they’re going to talk about a raise?”

A fellow writer asked with a laugh.

Wanhua smiled too.

“I don’t know.”

She straightened her hair, picked up her folder, and walked toward Chai Xin’s office.

When she reached the door, she knocked softly twice.

“Come in.”

Chai Xin’s voice came from inside.

Wanhua pushed open the door and entered.

Chai Xin was sitting behind her desk, with a thick stack of scripts on the desk in front of her. She wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and held a red pen in her hand. Her expression looked quite relaxed.

When she saw Wanhua enter, she smiled.

“Come, sit down.”

Wanhua sat in the chair across from her.

Chai Xin pushed the script in her hand forward.

“You’ve done a good job on these episodes.”

Chai Xin leaned back in her chair, her tone carrying a hint of praise.

“The ratings have been climbing steadily over the past few months. The audience response has been especially good for the most recent episodes. Yesterday’s ratings hit a new high again.”

Wanhua’s eyes brightened slightly when she heard this.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Chai Xin smiled.

“So the company is very satisfied.”

Wanhua felt a surge of happiness. She had originally thought that this time, she would finally see Chai Xin fulfill the promise she had made back then.

Chai Xin had once told her that as long as she was willing to work hard, she would gradually help her move from being a ghostwriter to becoming a real screenwriter.

She had always remembered those words.

And she had always been waiting for that day.

Chai Xin picked up the script on the desk and gently tapped it twice.

“Starting with the next episode, I’ll give you an extra thousand dollars per episode.”

Wanhua was stunned.

“An extra thousand?”

“Yes.” Chai Xin nodded.

“Your performance deserves this amount. As long as you keep it up, we can discuss more later.”

A smile appeared on Wanhua’s face.

“Thank you, Teacher Chai.”

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

Chai Xin gestured for her to move closer, her tone suddenly becoming more warm and familiar.

“I asked you to come here today because there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

“What is it?”

“This show is about to enter its final stages.”

“Mm.”

“I want you to continue helping me write.”

Wanhua nodded.

“I’m willing.”

She paused for a moment, as if she had finally summoned enough courage to say something she had kept buried in her heart for a long time.

“But... there’s something I’d like to ask you about, Teacher Chai.”

“Go ahead.”

“When this show finishes airing, on the final list of credits... could you add my name?”

Chai Xin raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Your name?”

Wanhua nodded.

“Just put ‘Assistant Screenwriter.’ It doesn’t have to be near the front. As long as my name is there.”

The office suddenly fell silent.

The smile slowly disappeared from Chai Xin’s face. She picked up the coffee cup on the desk and took a small sip.

“No.”

The two words were spoken very calmly.

Wanhua froze.

“Why?”

“Now is not the time yet.”

Chai Xin put down the coffee cup.

“You’re still young, and you don’t have enough experience yet. Putting your name on it now won’t do you any good.”

Wanhua looked at her.

“But these scripts...”

“I know.” Chai Xin interrupted her.

“I know that you wrote a lot of them.”

Her tone remained gentle.

“That’s why I said I won’t treat you unfairly.”

Wanhua fell silent.

Chai Xin stood up and walked over to the window. Outside, the city was packed with high-rise buildings, their glass curtain walls reflecting the afternoon sunlight.

“Wanhua, do you know how many people out there want to get into television?”

She did not turn around.

“A lot of people.”

“But how many of them can actually stay?”

Wanhua did not answer.

Chai Xin turned around, the smile returning to her face.

“The most important thing for you right now is to keep writing.”

“Keep writing?”

“Yes.”

Chai Xin’s tone was firm.

“You write, and I put my name on it. Isn’t that a good way for us to work together?”

Wanhua stared at her.

“But...”

“Don’t worry.”

Chai Xin walked back to the desk and gently patted Wanhua on the shoulder.

“When the time is right, I’ll definitely recommend you.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Chai Xin smiled naturally.

“Didn’t I tell you from the beginning? I want to cultivate you.”

Those words made Wanhua’s heart tremble slightly.

She looked at the smiling face in front of her and suddenly felt that it was somewhat unfamiliar.

She thought of the countless nights over the past few months when she had stayed up late.

She thought of herself sitting in her room in front of the computer, writing the script one word at a time.

She thought of all those lines of dialogue she had repeatedly revised, deleted, and written again.

Those stories were clearly the result of her own hard work.

Yet in the end, she could not even leave her own name on them.

“What’s wrong?”

Seeing that she had remained silent for so long, Chai Xin asked with a smile.

Wanhua came back to herself. She forced a faint smile.

“Nothing.”

“Good.”

Chai Xin picked up the script again.

“Give me the outline for the next episode tonight.”

Wanhua stood up.

“Okay.”

When she reached the door, Chai Xin called after her again.

“Wanhua.”

She turned around.

“Write well.”

Chai Xin smiled.

“You’re my secret weapon now.”

Wanhua simply nodded lightly.

“I understand.”

The door closed.

The moment she walked out of the office, the smile on Wanhua’s face slowly disappeared.

People came and went in the hallway. Some hurried past carrying scripts. Some held cups of coffee and chatted. Others were arguing about the next scene.

But suddenly, all those sounds seemed very far away.

Wanhua stood in the middle of the hallway, looking down at the folder in her hands.

She had originally thought that she was finally about to become a real screenwriter.

Only now did she understand—

What Chai Xin wanted was not to cultivate a successor at all.

What she wanted was simply a “ghostwriter” who would remain forever hidden behind her, writing beautiful scripts for her.

Wanhua bit her lip.

For the first time, a powerful sense of disappointment rose inside her.

It was not because she had received an extra thousand dollars.

It was because she suddenly realized that after working so hard for so long, she was not even qualified to leave behind a name of her own.

She took a deep breath and hugged the folder tightly against herself.

“Lin Wanhua...” she said to herself silently.

“Are you really only capable of making wedding clothes for someone else?”

She raised her head and looked at the window at the end of the hallway, where sunlight streamed in.

The sunlight was bright.

But for the first time, her heart felt covered in shadow.

21. Lin Wanhua Encounters Danger in the Park

In the evening, the sun had already sunk behind the rooftops of the distant high-rises.

A streak of orange-red sunset still lingered across the sky, while the park’s streetlights lit up one after another. The after-work crowd was gradually dispersing. Only a few couples remained on the benches, talking and laughing softly, while several elderly people slowly walked along the paths.

Lin Wanhua sat alone on a bench in a corner of the park. In front of her was an empty beer can, and beside her feet sat a large bag filled with canned beer. She had not brought her scripts today. She had not brought her laptop, either. She had brought nothing.

Only alcohol.

“Click!”

She opened her second can of beer. Tilting her head back, she took several gulps. The cold beer slid down her throat, bringing a brief feeling of numbness. She stared at the shadows of the trees in the distance and gave a bitter smile.

“Ghostwriter...” she murmured. “What a nice way of putting it.”

She took another sip.

“When you put it plainly, isn’t it just writing for someone else?”

Whenever she thought of Chai Xin’s smiling face, irritation surged through Wanhua.

“Cultivate me?” she scoffed. “Cultivate me so I can write for you for the rest of my life?”

She crushed the empty can in her hand.

“Crack!”

The aluminum can made a harsh sound in her grip. She casually tossed it toward the trash can beside her.

It missed.

The can struck the rim of the trash can and rolled onto the ground.

Wanhua glanced at it but could not be bothered to pick it up. She took another can from the bag.

“Click!”

The tab snapped open.

Her third can.

She drank faster than before. Before she realized it, her cheeks had already taken on a faint flush.

The evening breeze blew over her. She reached up and brushed the windblown hair away from her forehead, her eyes beginning to grow hazy.

“Why do I have to put up with this...?”

She lowered her head and stared at the tips of her shoes.

“I wrote all the scripts myself...”

Her voice grew quieter and quieter.

“Why can’t I even leave my name on them?”

She did not notice that two young men in the distance were walking toward her.

Both were wearing flashy shirts, their hair slicked back and shining with hair oil. One had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, while the other had his hands in his pockets.

As they passed Wanhua, one of them slowed down.

“Hey.” He nudged his companion with his elbow. “That girl’s pretty good-looking.”

The other turned his head and took a look.

“She’s drunk?”

“Looks like it.”

The two exchanged a glance. At the same time, an ill-intentioned smile appeared at the corners of their mouths.

Wanhua was completely unaware of them.

She finished the last sip of her beer, tossed the empty can onto the ground, and slowly stood up while holding onto the bench.

“Go home...” she murmured. “Sleep it off, and I’ll be fine.”

She picked up her handbag and staggered toward the park exit. She had taken only a few steps when her body suddenly swayed.

“Ugh...”

She grabbed the tree beside her.

The two thugs quietly followed behind her.

When she reached the park exit, one of them suddenly quickened his pace and caught up with her from behind.

“Miss.”

Wanhua ignored him.

“Miss, you’re drunk. Do you want us to take you home?”

Wanhua frowned.

“No.”

She continued walking.

“I can get home by myself.”

The other thug came around from the side and blocked her path.

“Don’t be so formal.”

Wanhua raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Move.”

“Oh, you’ve got quite a temper.”

The man smiled.

Wanhua tried to walk around him, but the two men blocked her from both sides, trapping her between them.

“What do you want?”

She finally became alert.

“Nothing.”

One of them reached out and grabbed her arm.

Wanhua jerked herself free.

“Let go!”

The other took advantage of the moment and grabbed her from the other side.

“Come on. We’ll take you home.”

“Let me go!”

Wanhua struggled violently.

“Help!”

Her scream tore through the evening silence of the park.

Several pedestrians stopped, but no one dared approach immediately.

“Help me!”

Wanhua desperately twisted her body.

“Let me go!”

The two thugs only tightened their grip.

“Stop yelling!”

“Just come with us!”

Just then—

From the distance came the sound of bicycle tires rolling over the pavement.

“Click-clack, click-clack...”

A young man was slowly riding a bicycle along the sidewalk outside the park.

He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and carrying art supplies, with a portfolio bag hanging from the back of the bicycle.

It was Walis Yukan.

He had been riding with his head lowered. Suddenly—

He heard a familiar voice.

“Let me go!”

Yukan suddenly looked up.

“...Wanhua?”

He slammed on the brakes. The bicycle came to an abrupt stop.

Yukan turned his head and looked back.

At the park exit, Lin Wanhua was being held by two men.

His expression instantly darkened.

Without another thought, Yukan sharply turned the bicycle around.

“Hey!”

He shouted.

The two thugs turned around.

“Who are you?”

Before the words had even left his mouth—

“Bang!”

The bicycle suddenly crashed into them.

One of the thugs was caught off guard and was hit hard in the lower back by the front of the bicycle. He staggered several steps before pitching forward onto the ground.

“Damn it!”

The other man had just released Wanhua and was about to charge at Yukan.

Yukan had already jumped off the bicycle.

He pivoted his body.

His right leg suddenly swung up.

“Smack!”

A clean spinning kick swept hard across the man’s shoulder and neck.

The man’s entire body was kicked halfway around, and he stumbled backward before dropping onto the ground.

“Ah!”

The onlookers let out a collective gasp.

The other thug, who had fallen to the ground, got back up and charged at Yukan in fury.

“You’re asking to die!”

Yukan did not step back.

He waited until the man charged at him, then quickly dodged to the side and immediately leaped into the air.

A sharp downward kick came crashing down.

“Bang!”

The man was kicked completely off balance. He rolled several times before landing awkwardly on the ground.

The area fell completely silent.

Several seconds later, someone suddenly shouted—

“Yeah!”

Then applause suddenly broke out.

“Beautiful!”

“Nice one!”

“That was awesome!”

The crowd applauded enthusiastically.

Yukan paid no attention to them.

He turned and quickly walked over to Wanhua.

“Wanhua!”

Wanhua stared blankly at him.

The alcohol, the fright, and the chaos that had just taken place had all mixed together, leaving her unable to fully regain her senses.

“Yu... Yukan?”

“Are you okay?”

Yukan looked her over from head to toe.

“Are you hurt?”

Wanhua shook her head.

“I... I’m fine.”

As soon as she finished speaking, her body suddenly swayed.

Yukan quickly reached out and steadied her.

“Careful.”

Wanhua leaned against his arm, and only then did she truly let out a sigh of relief.

“How did you happen to be here?”

“I just happened to be riding by.”

Yukan glanced at the two thugs on the ground.

Seeing that the situation had turned against them, the two men had already gotten up and were scurrying away into an alley.

Yukan looked away from them.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“But your bicycle...”

“We’ll ride together.”

“Together?”

Wanhua froze for a moment.

Yukan wheeled the bicycle over and patted the rear seat.

“Get on.”

Wanhua looked at the bicycle, then at Yukan.

“I’m drunk.”

“I know.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw up on you?”

Yukan could not help laughing.

“Then throw up.”

“You...”

For the first time, Wanhua smiled.

Although the smile carried the haze of drunkenness, it was far brighter than the troubled expression she had worn throughout the evening.

She carefully sat on the rear seat.

Yukan pushed down on the pedals.

The bicycle slowly left the park.

The evening breeze swept across their faces.

One of Wanhua’s hands held onto the rear seat, while the other instinctively grasped the edge of Yukan’s shirt.

“Hold on tight,” Yukan reminded her.

“I know,” Wanhua replied softly.

The park lights gradually faded behind them.

Their figures slowly disappeared down the streets beneath the night sky.

Neither of them realized that the dangerous incident that had just taken place was quietly changing the distance between them.

At least on this disappointing night, Lin Wanhua finally realized—

When she was stumbling through the most humiliating and helpless moment of her life, there was still someone behind her who was willing to turn around without hesitation.

1. The Night Wind on the Bridge

It was already late at night.

Outside the park, the streetlights were lit one after another, their dim yellow glow falling across the asphalt. Walis Yukan rode his bicycle, while Lin Wanhua sat on the back seat, her hands loosely gripping the edge of his shirt.

The evening breeze blew past, carrying a slight chill from the early-summer night.

Wanhua had remained silent at first, but after a while, she suddenly frowned.

“Yukan...”

“Hmm?”

“Stop for a moment.” Her voice was a little weak.

Yukan immediately stepped on the brakes and stopped the bicycle beside the bridge. “What’s wrong?”

Wanhua did not answer. She stumbled off the bicycle, held onto the railing beside the bridge, and hurried a few steps.

“Ugh—” She leaned over the railing and began to vomit.

Yukan quickly leaned the bicycle to one side and hurried over. With one hand, he gently supported her shoulder, while with the other, he patted her back. “Take it slowly. Don’t rush.”

Wanhua vomited until tears came to her eyes. She gasped for breath and raised her head.

“I... I’m fine.”

“You call this fine?” Yukan frowned. “How much did you drink?”

Wanhua held out her hand and gestured with her fingers, but even she could not say for sure.

“I don’t know... Anyway... a lot.”

Yukan could not help but smile bitterly. “Beer isn’t water.”

Wanhua wiped the corner of her mouth and suddenly smiled.

“I know.”

“If you know that, why did you drink so much?”

“Because...” Her smile slowly faded. “There are some things that, if I don’t drink a little, I won’t be able to sleep.”

Yukan looked at her without asking any further questions. The night wind swept across the bridge, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

After a long while, Yukan finally said softly, “Come on. Let’s go back to the Single Society.”

Wanhua nodded.

“Okay.”

On the way back, Yukan slowed down. Wanhua sat on the back seat without saying another word, simply keeping her head lowered. The city lights passed one after another before her eyes, like a blurry and distant dream.

When they returned to the Single Society, the courtyard had already fallen quiet.

Everyone had gone back to their rooms to rest, and only a small light in the hallway was still on.

Yukan parked the bicycle and turned to look at Wanhua.

“Can you walk?”

Wanhua nodded.

“Yes.” She had barely taken one step when her body swayed.

Yukan quickly caught her. “I’d better help you.”

“I really can...”

“Okay, don’t try to be tough.” Yukan supported her as they slowly walked inside.

When they reached Wanhua’s door, she fumbled through her pockets for a long time before remembering where she had put the key.

“The key...”

“Here it is.” Yukan found the key in her bag and opened the door for her.

As soon as the door opened, Yukan froze. The room was a mess, as if a battle had just been fought inside. Stacks upon stacks of scripts were piled on the desk. Several empty drink cans sat crookedly here and there, while manuscript pages, books, and crumpled pieces of paper were scattered across the floor. There were even several garbage bags beside the bed that had not yet been taken outside.

Yukan stood in the doorway, stunned for several seconds. It was hard to connect the messy room before him with the Lin Wanhua he knew, who usually dressed elegantly, spoke crisply, and always seemed so confident.

“You... are you always like this?”

Wanhua did not answer. She walked into the room and sat down on the wooden floor. With her back against the edge of the bed and her legs curled up, she looked as if she had suddenly lost all support.

“Yukan...”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to write anymore.”

Yukan crouched down in front of her. “Write what?”

“Scripts.” Wanhua lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously playing with a sheet of manuscript paper on the floor.

“I don’t want to write for Chai Xin anymore.” Her voice was very soft. “She said she would cultivate me...”

She paused, then suddenly gave a bitter laugh. “And what happened?”

Yukan said nothing.

“The better I write, the greater her reputation becomes. The harder I work, the more money she makes.”

Wanhua raised her head, her eyes reddening. “But what about my name?”

She pointed to the stack of scripts on the desk. “My name has never appeared on them.”

Yukan was silent for a moment. “So you’re very angry.”

“I’m not angry.” Wanhua shook her head. “I just feel stupid.” She covered her face with her hands. “I actually believed her.”

Yukan looked at her and slowly sat down beside her. “Believing someone doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

Wanhua raised her eyes and looked at him. “Then what does it mean?”

“It means you once sincerely believed in something.”

Wanhua stared at him blankly.

Yukan smiled. “You just know now that this person isn’t worthy of your trust. From now on, you simply don’t trust her anymore.”

Wanhua did not answer. After a moment, she said quietly, “I’m not willing to accept this.”

“I know.”

“I really am not willing to accept this.” Her voice suddenly rose.

“I have the ability to write. Why should I always hide behind her? Why can she use my work as her own calling card?”

Yukan nodded. “Then don’t hide anymore.”

Wanhua froze.

Yukan said nothing more. He simply stood up. “Get some rest first.”

He walked to the small refrigerator in the corner of the room, opened the door, and took out a bottle of cold water.

“Drink some.” He poured a glass of water and handed it to Wanhua.

Wanhua took it and slowly drank a few sips. The cold water slid down her throat, and she seemed to regain some clarity.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Yukan looked at her. “You need to sleep now.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Then lie down.”

“I don’t want to lie down.”

Yukan smiled helplessly. “Lin Wanhua, you’re drunk.”

Wanhua glared at him. “I’m not.”

“Okay, you’re not.” Yukan went along with her. “It’s just that tonight, the floor seems to like you better.”

Wanhua froze for a moment, then could not help laughing.

“You...” She laughed, but as she did, her eyes grew red again.

Yukan said nothing more. He bent down and picked up the manuscript pages one by one, put the scattered books back on the desk, and gathered the empty drink cans together.

Wanhua sat on the floor and watched his back.

“Yukan.”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to clean up.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll clean it up myself tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll help you clean it up tonight.” He tied up a large bag of garbage and carried it in his hand.

“You go to sleep first.”

Wanhua looked at him and suddenly asked, “Do you think... I’m really messy?”

Yukan turned his head. “No.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Then why were you staring the whole time?”

Yukan smiled. “Because it’s the first time I’ve seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“That a woman who looks so beautiful and elegant can have a room this messy.”

Wanhua immediately grabbed a pillow beside her and threw it at him. “Get out!”

Yukan dodged it, laughing as he picked up the garbage bag.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” When he reached the door, he turned back again.

“Remember to finish the water.”

Wanhua did not answer. Yukan gently closed the door.

The room fell quiet again. Wanhua sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the glass of cold water in her hands.

She suddenly remembered how, when she had been leaning over the railing and vomiting miserably beside the bridge, Yukan had not asked why she drank, nor had he laughed at her, much less taken the opportunity to lecture her. He had simply stayed quietly by her side.

She lowered her head, and the faintest hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.

“That idiot...”

Outside the door, Yukan carried the garbage bag down the dim hallway. Inside the room, Lin Wanhua felt for the first time that this night, which had begun in such a miserable state, did not seem quite so hard to endure after all.