Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Lin Anzhi had been an orphan who’d been adopted by Mo Bing’s parents at the age of 14. They had developed feelings for each other at the age of 16 and had become a couple. They were each other’s first love and had been together for 14 years now.
Since she was a third party, Jiang Jiusheng did not feel that it was her place to interfere, so she hung up. Hearing music, she hiked up her dress and walked back inside. As she opened the door, the spotlight shone into her eyes, and she saw the elegant form of a woman.
“Jiang Jiusheng!”
A woman, exuding feminine grace in a pretty, pale apricot-colored maxi dress with a plunging V-cut, called Jiang Jiusheng’s name as if they were old friends.
Lifting her head, Jiang Jiusheng glanced at her and said, “I Don’t think we’ve met.”
Eyes shining brightly, the woman smiled. “I’m Wen Shihao.”
The young daughter of Yuncheng of the Wen clan—the niece of that man.
Jiang Jiusheng was familiar with the name Wen Shihao. Mo Bing had mentioned her many times, claiming that she had hit the jackpot with a single song and was the next big thing in the world of songwriters. Jiang Jiusheng had heard the song, which, incidentally, was still on the charts, sung with great emotion by a reigning queen of pop. With that one song, Wen Shihao had earned a nomination for Best Songwriter. She probably wanted to use the awards ceremony to present herself to the world.
What the heck? Two Wen women in one night…
Jiang Jiusheng nodded in greeting. “Hello.”
Wen Shihao smiled brilliantly, oozing the elegance and grooming of a privileged upbringing. “I’ve been to your concert,” she said, a look of subtle appraisal in her eyes. “You look very much like someone I once knew. You even have the same name.”
Once knew?
Generally speaking, the preferred lines to strike up a social association would have been, “You look familiar,” or, “Where have you been all my life?”
Jiang Jiusheng replied impassively. “Maybe I could meet this person, if the opportunity arises.”
Looking straight at her, Wen Shihao said, “She’s dead.”
In that instant, her eyes shone brightly, flashing with fire.
Jiang Jiusheng realized that perhaps this person really did exist. Perhaps it was someone whom Miss Wen had been close to or someone that the young lady had hated deeply. In any case, not wishing to probe into someone’s private affairs, Jiang Jiusheng apologized and changed the subject.
Shaking her head, Wen Shihao assured her, “It’s alright.” She proceeded to enter the event before Jiang Jiusheng, smiling all the way.
Returning to her seat, Jiang Jiusheng noticed that Xu Qingjiu was not in his. She also noted that Su Qing looked very pale. She was frowning, and her forehead was soaked in perspiration. She was not even watching the opening performance. Sliding over to the seat next to her, Jiang Jiusheng asked in a low voice, “What’s the matter?”
The artists around them were either watching the opening performance or focusing on preparing their best pose for the cameras, should they zoom in on them. They were not interested in anything else.
Su Qing lowered her head. The two appeared to be having a private conversation.
“I’ve got my period,” she replied.
Pinching her brow, Jiang Jiusheng turned to look up at the positions of the cameras and the lighting, then pointed to a spot behind them, saying, “That way. The lighting’s dim there. Wait for me on the second floor.”
“Okay.”
Doubled up in pain and clutching her abdomen, Su Qing snuck out silently, wary of being observed. She didn’t go to the lounge where her newly recruited assistant was waiting, since the latter would not understand her needs. She decided to go to the washroom, thankful that she did not bump into anyone on the way there. The bad news was that her white pants had been stained red.
Sitting on the toilet, Su Qing was deep in thought.
Jiang Jiusheng couldn’t go into the men’s bathroom, while she, with her pants stained red, could not dare to venture out. And it was almost time for her to go on stage to dance.
The blood was still flowing…
Clap!
The sound of a door shutting jerked Su Qing out of her thoughts. Straining her ears, she heard a zipping and swishing sound in the next stall.
“Bro Liang.”
A man’s voice.
Duh… Of course it was a man’s voice. She was, after all, in the men’s washroom.
A little later, Su Qing thought she heard the sound of a metal belt buckle. To be sure, she placed her ear on the dividing panel. The man next door was on the phone.
“Send me a pair of pants. Yep, it’s soiled. Quickly.”
Since the man had deliberately spoken in a low tone, Su Qing could not hear clearly, but what was more important was that a part of a pant leg had appeared on the floor in the gap between the two cubicles.
The man was taking his pants off!
Wow. A helping hand from heaven.
Holding her breath, Su Qing stared at the gap between the two cubicles. Her eyes gleamed. Taking a deep breath, she slowly stooped and reached gingerly through the gap, tugging fiercely once she got a grip of the fabric.
Hahaha! I’ve got the pants!
Shocked out of his wits, the man in the next cubicle shouted, “Who’s there?”
There was a loud clang. The belt buckle was caught in the gap.
Su Qing froze in her short-lived victory and began to pull with everything she had, only to realize that the other man was holding onto the other half of the pants.
No time to waste—time for a tug of war!
So began a series of strenuous pushes and pulls from both sides.
“What do you want my pants for?!”
What was there to explain? Life was just full of surprises.
Su Qing planted one foot on the dividing panel for support and tugged with all her might.
“Darn it, stop pulling!” the man shouted angrily. “I said, let go already!”
Su Qing continued to pull with everything she had!
Plop.
Something had fallen into the toilet.
Next door, the man was hanging onto the pant leg with one hand, his long, bare legs trembling as they pushed against the dividing panel. Red-faced and with his carefully coiffed hair now amess, the man stared at the mobile phone that had dropped into the toilet. Infuriated, he screamed, his voice breaking in his rage: “You’re not f*cking letting go? F*ck! Let go now!”
Let go? She wasn’t stupid!
Su Qing gave it another strong tug.
Crack!
A very loud bang resounded through the bathroom—possibly the man’s head crashing into the dividing panel.
Su Qing didn’t care. She took advantage of the situation and quickly jerked the pants over to her side. At lightning speed, she put on the pants, dumped the stained white pants in the bin, covering them with paper towels, and ran as fast as she could out of the washroom.
In the background, she could hear the man ranting and screaming. “Hey! Stop! You son of a b*tch! I—my pants…!”
Su Qing hiked up the pants—which were far too long for her—and ran for dear life, thinking as she ran that the voice had sounded quite familiar. Oh, who cared?
She sprinted along two corridors and reached the lounge where Jiang Jiusheng was waiting for her at the entrance.
Feeling guilty, Su Qing took her hand and guided her away from the area.
“What is it?” Jiang Jiusheng asked in surprise.
“Run quick!” Su Qing said, panting. “Someone’s after my pants!”
It was then that Jiang Jiusheng noticed Su Qing’s unmatched suit: a white jacket and black pants. She didn’t know where Su Qing had gotten those pants. She had assumed that the latter would wash the pants off in the bathroom, dry the pants using the hand dryer, and then swagger back into the awards hall wearing them. White on black was really not a good choice, but Su Qing had managed to conjure up a new look with one leg cuff rolled up, letting the pants hang loosely at the hip. She completed the look by draping her jacket over her shoulders instead of wearing it and having the topmost button of her shirt undone. The result was a picture of flirty irreverence.
What a trendsetter! The media went wild with their cameras flashing.
The awards ceremony had reached its midpoint, but Xu Qingjiu was still nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Xu Qingjiu?” Jiang Jiusheng asked.
Without a care, Su Qing shrugged. “Don’t know.” Then, perking up, she said, “The Best Songwriter award comes after the Best Lyricist award.”
Jiang Jiusheng had won the Best Lyricist award the previous year, and this year’s award was picked up by a senior in the music industry for a theme song written for a movie about a disaster. Jiang Jiusheng had enjoyed the song for its beautiful lyrics, relating a moving story that resonated with many people, and thought that the award was well-deserved.
The MC on stage was eloquent as ever, creating a tense atmosphere of anticipation, while the presenter made a show of wiping the perspiration from his forehead before reading loudly and clearly, “And the award for Best Song goes to—”