Chapter 6
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Chapter 6: Affection
Back in the office, Song Xian began making arrangements for the dinner. He Xiaoying had suggested a few restaurants, and as Song Xian saved the names to her notes, a colleague seated across from them looked up and asked, “Xiaoying, did you call that Miss Li?”
He Xiaoying leaned over. “Which Miss Li?”
The colleague beckoned her over. The two began discussing something in hushed tones, heads close together. Song Xian continued scrolling through the list of restaurants He Xiaoying had sent, eyes lifting briefly to survey the office. Everyone was still caught up in the chaos from the last-minute schedule change. Despite Yu Cai’s deliberate attempt to sling mud her way, not a single colleague had directed blame at her.
After a moment’s thought, Song Xian sent a message to her friend.
Gu Yuanyuan was lounging comfortably, munching on bread and sipping milk tea, when the message arrived. She replied: [Go ahead and ask her—it’s not a big deal. Just don’t tell your colleagues yet. If Jiang Liuyi doesn’t end up coming, they’ll just be disappointed.]
Song Xian replied: [Got it.]
Gu Yuanyuan: [By the way, do your coworkers know who your wife is?]
Song Xian: [No.]
Gu Yuanyuan: [?????]
Song Xian paused, then typed: [They haven’t asked.]
Gu Yuanyuan: …
Of course. Why did she even expect anything different? Song Xian had always been the type to stay silent unless directly asked—a stubborn one, through and through.
After finishing her chat with Gu Yuanyuan, He Xiaoying happened to return to her desk. As she passed by Song Xian’s workstation, she caught a glimpse of the screen and tilted her head. “Isn’t that Jiang Liuyi?”
Song Xian turned slightly. “Mm. I’m trying to figure out why she won’t accept interviews.”
He Xiaoying burst out laughing. “You think that kind of thing would be in a public bio? From what I know, back when she first started performing, she did a few interviews. But later on, she just stopped—no one really knows why.”
She turned to the colleague seated across the aisle. “Do you know why Jiang Liuyi refuses interviews?”
The colleague shook her head. “No idea. But I heard she had a girlfriend a few years ago. They broke up. Maybe it’s related?”
Song Xian tapped her fingers lightly against the desk—twice, rhythmic and absentminded.
He Xiaoying leaned in. “Why are you even looking into this?”
Song Xian refocused. “Didn’t you say you wanted to interview her?”
He Xiaoying laughed. “Well, sure, I said I wanted to. You know how it is—this is our debut issue, and the higher-ups are watching closely. Everyone’s hoping for a strong start. Right now, no one in the art world is more prominent than Jiang Liuyi. And since we’re going head-to-head with Meixiu, I figured… why not aim high?”
Song Xian understood. She nodded, and He Xiaoying sighed. “But honestly, it’s just a pipe dream. She even turned down a feature with national television—there’s no way she’d be interested in a small magazine like ours.”
Her doll-like face scrunched into frustration. Though a year older than Song Xian, He Xiaoying had a playful spirit and childlike energy. Paired with her cherubic features, the expression she wore now looked almost comical.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Song Xian reached over and patted her shoulder. “Back to work.”
He Xiaoying shrugged and got back to her tasks.
Close to the end of the workday, Song Xian received a call from Jiang Liuyi asking if she should come pick her up. Song Xian glanced at her car keys and declined. After confirming the restaurant with Jiang Liuyi, she left the office right on time.
The restaurant was located inside a shopping mall. Song Xian hit rush hour traffic on the way—advancing a meter, stopping three. The mall’s glowing logo had long since come into view, yet the car inched forward at a glacial pace.
Eventually, the traffic budged. Song Xian gently pressed the accelerator, only for the car to slide forward a few meters and halt again.
On and on it went. Even-tempered as she was, she finally rolled down the window to let out a slow, stifled breath.
As October neared, night fell earlier. Streetlights flickered on one by one, and the mall’s massive LED sign lit up overhead. A few seconds later, the central digital display came to life.
It began with a shampoo commercial—the same brand Song Xian used. She watched it for a moment longer than necessary. After the ad ended, the screen shifted to a news segment.
[Renowned painter Professor Bai Ye was seen in Kyoto today, accompanied by Chairman Lin of the National Chinese Painting Association, and Director Yao of the Fine Arts Society…]
Song Xian’s hand slipped, her grip loosening on the steering wheel. Her foot instinctively pressed down hard on the brake, bringing the car to a sudden halt.
[This marks Professor Bai Ye’s first return to China since the conclusion of the “Heartbeat” World Art Exhibition. He is traveling with three of his disciples. Notably absent, however, is his final disciple. Reports suggest that one of his last disciples, Shaniya, sold a piece at the “Heartbeat” exhibition for forty million yuan…]
Several paintings appeared on-screen, along with a glimpse of Bai Ye’s tall, upright figure.
Song Xian stared at the display, head tilted upward, gaze unmoving.
[Sources reveal the buyer of Shaniya’s piece is a Chinese expatriate, who paid forty million. Another collector is reportedly scouring the market for more of Shaniya’s works. Shaniya is now widely considered the most likely successor to Professor Bai Ye.]
Shaniya—meaning God’s gift.
Bai Ye had once said to her, “Song Xian, your hands are the greatest gift God ever gave you. Why not go by Shaniya from now on?”
Beep! Beep! Beep! The blaring of a car horn jolted Song Xian from her thoughts. She blinked, pulling herself out of the memory. When she looked up again, the display had already shifted to a different commercial. She grabbed a tissue and wiped the fine sheen of sweat from her forehead before driving off.
Upon reaching the parking lot, she called Jiang Liuyi.
Jiang Liuyi stood up from beside Lin Qiushui and answered the phone. “I’ll come get you.”
Lin Qiushui watched her get to her feet and asked curiously, “Who was that?”
Zhao Yuebai glanced over. “Didn’t you bring her here? Shouldn’t you know who she’s picking up?”
Lin Qiushui frowned. “Could it be Yu Bai?”
The three others turned to her. Zhao Yuebai’s brows furrowed. “Yu Bai called and asked her to pick her up?”
“No way.”
Lin Qiushui said, “Why not? You know how spoiled Yu Bai is. This kind of thing is exactly her style.”
Zhao Yuebai murmured, “Still… it’s been years since they broke up. And Liuyi’s married now. Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”
The girl beside Zhao Yuebai nudged her. “What’s so bad about it? Don’t you want to see Liuyi and Yu Bai get back together? They were the only real couple to come out of our circle—everyone’s been rooting for them. Just don’t ruin the mood later, okay?”
Zhao Yuebai: …
This isn’t about ruining the mood—it’s a matter of principle, isn’t it?
But these friends had been trying to matchmake Yu Bai and Jiang Liuyi since the beginning. There was no arguing with them.
One of them said excitedly, “I brought mini confetti poppers. When Yu Bai arrives, we’ll set them off!”
The others chimed in, “Great idea!”
They all gathered around, each grabbing a popper from her hands. Meanwhile, Lin Qiushui sent a message to Jiang Liuyi: [Are you back yet?]
Just then, a phone rang outside the door. One of the friends gestured for everyone to raise their poppers. The moment Jiang Liuyi pushed open the door, a series of pop-pop-pop sounds erupted. Ribbon streamers rained down over her and Song Xian’s heads in a chaotic, colorful drizzle—one that felt far from festive.
Zhao Yuebai, stunned for a second at the sight of Song Xian walking in beside Jiang Liuyi, quickly recovered and blurted out, “Congratulations on your marriage!”
Only then did Jiang Liuyi’s tense expression soften slightly. She looked at the others. “Enough with the nonsense.”
She turned toward Song Xian. “Are you alright?”
Song Xian’s expression remained calm as she gave the group a polite nod.
They were already used to her quiet demeanor. The last time, just before the wedding, Jiang Liuyi had invited them all to dinner as well. Song Xian had sat quietly by her side then too—saying little, only responding to Jiang Liuyi, as if her entire presence revolved around her.
“Come, come, have a seat,” Zhao Yuebai interjected, trying to ease the awkwardness. “We’re just waiting on two more people before we can start.”
Jiang Liuyi had just moved to sit down when Lin Qiushui tugged her aside.
“Why did you bring her?” she whispered.
Yu Bai would be arriving soon—wasn’t this shaping up to be an incredibly awkward mess?
Jiang Liuyi frowned at the question, irritation flickering across her face. “What do you mean why? Can’t I?”
Lin Qiushui backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that—it’s just that someone else is coming…”
At this point, she dropped the pretense and confessed. “Today’s dinner is actually a welcome-back gathering for Yu Bai.”
Jiang Liuyi’s expression darkened the moment their conversation ended. She wasn’t the type to smile often, and when her face turned serious, her sharp features made her seem even more imposing. Her normally elegant gaze now glinted with quiet fury.
On the side, Song Xian remained seated. Zhao Yuebai leaned over with a smile and offered her hand. “You’re Song Xian, right? I’m Zhao Yuebai. I wasn’t in the country the last time you two had dinner with everyone.”
Some of the women here were old classmates, others connected through work—different ties, same social circle.
Song Xian accepted Zhao Yuebai’s handshake with polite detachment. Her gaze was cool, her demeanor distant.
Zhao Yuebai studied her profile. People often said Song Xian resembled Yu Bai, but now, up close, she realized her expectations had been too high. The resemblance was superficial—perhaps a similar silhouette at first glance—but the more she looked, the less they seemed alike. Most of all, their temperaments were worlds apart.
Yu Bai had grown up sheltered and adored, the kind of girl used to being indulged. Back then, everyone had jokingly called her the “Young Miss of the Yu family,” until she’d scolded them into dropping it. But they all knew the truth—Yu Bai needed to be cherished, constantly.
Song Xian was different. Cool and composed, she spoke little and carried herself with a quiet stillness. Even in unfamiliar surroundings, she never seemed the least bit uneasy. This group, while not as accomplished as Jiang Liuyi, still carried some reputation in the arts and media world. Yet when Song Xian looked at them, it was as though she were looking at ordinary people—calmly, without even a flicker of emotion.
And they called her petty? Said she wasn’t presentable?
Zhao Yuebai realized how deep their biases ran.
She asked, “I heard you work at a magazine?”
Song Xian turned toward her. “Yes.”
Jiang Liuyi was still stewing from her conversation with Lin Qiushui. Irritated, she stood up and took Song Xian’s hand. “Let’s go home.”
The moment she rose, the others jumped in.
“What’s wrong? Can’t even finish a simple dinner?”
“Yiyi, you’re married—not in prison. Don’t you get any time to yourself?”
Every word dripped with sarcasm, not-so-subtly mocking Song Xian for tagging along. This was their gathering, after all. Why had she insisted on coming? Couldn’t she give Jiang Liuyi a little breathing room?
But Song Xian didn’t rise to the bait. She didn’t even glance at them. She simply asked Jiang Liuyi, “If you want to go home, then let’s go.”
So obedient. So willing. Whatever Jiang Liuyi said, she followed without question.
They’ve only known each other two months… and she’s already this devoted?
Lin Qiushui tried to smooth things over. “Hey, hey, what’s all this…”
Before she could finish, the door behind them opened.
The sharp click of high heels rang out, each step a beat that struck the heart.
Click—click—click.
Yu Bai entered the private room. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Jiang Liuyi—only to dim again as she caught sight of the woman standing beside her.
Taller than she was. More refined features. And most importantly, standing right next to Jiang Liuyi.
Yu Bai’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes reddened instantly.
Lin Qiushui made introductions with a bright smile. “Bai Bai’s here! This is Song Xian—she and Yiyi just got married. Say hello.”
Song Xian stood where she was, her gaze settling on Yu Bai—calm, steady, utterly unreadable.
Yu Bai took two steps forward until she stood directly in front of her.
The two faced each other, and the air between them tightened, bristling with tension. An unspoken pressure radiated outward, so palpable that Zhao Yuebai couldn’t help but swallow hard. Her heart had started to race.
Yu Bai was the first to speak. She extended a hand. “Hello, I’m Yu Bai.”
Song Xian took it briefly, her tone even. “Song Xian.”
Yu Bai gave a small nod. “I’ve heard about you from some friends. You’re very beautiful.”
Song Xian replied, “Thank you.”
That was it? No curiosity? No questions? Not even a who are you?
Yu Bai felt the breath catch in her chest all over again.
Song Xian didn’t spare her another glance. Instead, she turned to Jiang Liuyi. “Still want to go home?”
Lin Qiushui nudged Jiang Liuyi lightly. “Come on, everyone’s here. Don’t spoil the mood.”
Jiang Liuyi looked at Song Xian.
“I’m fine with whatever,” Song Xian said. “It’s your call.”
After all, this was her circle of friends.
Jiang Liuyi glanced at the group. These were long-time companions. And as for Yu Bai—they’d inevitably cross paths again.
Better to stay and face things openly than to slip away in retreat.
She said, “Alright. Let’s all eat together.”
And besides—she wanted to clear the air tonight.
No sooner had they taken their seats than Zhao Yuebai squeezed in beside Jiang Liuyi, leaning close to whisper in her ear, “You really struck gold, didn’t you?”
Jiang Liuyi turned her head. “What?”
Zhao Yuebai muttered under her breath, “She’s willing to sit at the same table with your ex—for you. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. You seriously lucked out!”
The moment those words reached her, the fire simmering in Jiang Liuyi’s chest cooled just a little—replaced by a flicker of something warm and unnameable.
Song Xian… does she really like me that much?
