Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Mu He, slightly puzzled, thought of a possibility: “Did you install a Wi-Fi cracking app on your phone?”

The previous man who lived here had set the password long and complicated. She thought it would increase security, yet it had still been easily hacked.

If she had known, it would have been better to just use something simple like 1–8.

Huo Heng was still frowning, considering how to explain such a coincidence. Unexpectedly, she had provided a reason for him, so he naturally went along with it. She sat very close, a faint fragrance lingering around her, a few strands of hair sliding from her shoulder to lightly brush his hand—slightly ticklish.

He didn’t resist her closeness, yet a feeling surfaced in his heart, hard to define, both strange and elusive.

“Xi Heng?”

Huo Heng refocused after a fleeting distraction, cleared his throat against his lips, and admitted the non-existent cracking software on his phone: “…Mm.”

Mu He returned the phone to him: “You sit here first, I’ll go make dinner.”

He had helped a lot in the afternoon; she felt embarrassed asking him to assist in the kitchen again.

Her dinners were usually light, mostly simple, but considering there was now a man, she cooked tomato and fatty beef soup, stir-fried radish sprouts, and fried two eggs.

In less than half an hour, the fragrant dishes were ready.

Without a dining table, she had to temporarily use the long table in the living room.

Huo Heng was tall and long-limbed; the space was slightly cramped. Mu He was about to ask if he was uncomfortable, but when she turned her head, he had just shifted his posture, legs spread slightly, and she inadvertently glimpsed—

Her ears felt like they were on fire, burning hot.

She quickly looked away, repeatedly warning herself in her mind: Mu Yangyang, even if you think you saw something you shouldn’t have, your thoughts must stay pure!

Huo Heng noticed her unease and tilted his eyes toward her, his voice clear and crisp, like mountain spring water: “What’s wrong?”

Under his gaze, Mu He’s heart raced; she shook her head subconsciously: “Nothing.”

Her hands were intertwined under the table: “…I was just thinking, didn’t expect to be able to eat at the same table with you.”

In fact, she had thought she would never see him again in her lifetime.

Ignoring that hint of melancholy, Mu He looked at the silent man beside her and smiled: “Too bad there’s no wine at home; if there were, we could have a drink.”

Huo Heng stared into her eyes, as if trying to see straight into her heart, to glimpse her true feelings. His gaze subtly shifted, and after a moment he said: “I don’t drink.”

Hm?

Mu He realized she didn’t know him as well as she imagined. Someone who grew up in Moscow didn’t drink?

She couldn’t help asking: “Why?”

“To resist temptation.”

As he said this, in the depths of his beautiful peach blossom eyes, it seemed a faint smile flickered, like a starry night with scattered starlight. More so, a hidden, unknown black hole emanated, exuding deadly allure and… danger.

He did not succumb to temptation, yet he was temptation itself.

Mu He felt inexplicably stirred by him, eager to challenge: “Then I’ll set a small goal—to get you to break your rule just once.”

Huo Heng’s eyes lifted slightly: “If you succeed, I’ll reward you.”

“Deal!”

Later, Mu He recalled that day with some reflection. She originally wanted him to break the rule about alcohol, but somehow, in the process, something else ended up being broken as well…

“Let’s eat.”

Mu He was in a great mood: “See if my cooking has worsened.”

Huo Heng picked some vegetables, his jointed hands holding wooden chopsticks, movements elegant and pleasing to watch. From his expression, she had already received a satisfactory answer.

After dinner, Mu He cleaned the dishes, loaded the dishwasher, dried her hands, and came out of the kitchen, seeing Huo Heng standing by the floor-to-ceiling window. She walked over and stood beside him: “The night view here isn’t bad, right?”

Of course it wasn’t. A nearly 300-million-yuan house with the best angle overlooking the bustling city. Outside the panoramic window, the West River stretched out, the evening breeze blowing, the water shimmering under the golden moon.

The cross-river bridge shone brightly, cars flowing like water, as if the Milky Way had fallen to earth.

Huo Heng quietly murmured: “It’s pretty nice.”

Mu He softly muttered: “Actually, this house is fine except for the sparse furniture, the emptiness and coldness, the lack of a sense of life, and no nearby subway, bus, or shopping facilities. Everything else is good.”

Huo Heng listened without missing a word, long lashes slightly lowered, hiding a faint smile: “You can give feedback to the company.”

“No need.”

Mu He spoke casually; the company’s benefits were very good, even providing a driver. The transportation issue was solved, and she hadn’t achieved much yet—one should be content to enjoy constant happiness.

“By the way, I’ll show you something.”

Huo Heng followed her into the home theater.

Mu He went straight to the corner, lifted the dust cover, revealing an exquisite vintage vinyl record player.

Every night before sleep, she had the habit of watching film clips to study and learn the acting of veteran performers. Previously, she watched on her phone; after moving in here and discovering this high-quality home theater, she naturally took advantage of it.

The record player was another unexpected delight.

Mu He placed the needle, and melodious music slowly flowed out. She turned to him, eyes curved with a smile: “Xi Heng, listen.”

Huo Heng’s gaze shifted from the record player to her, becoming particularly meaningful: “Evenings on the Moscow Outskirts.”

Mu He nodded repeatedly. She didn’t understand the Russian lyrics but could appreciate the melody. She asked: “How is the song title said in Russian?”

His profile was hidden in the light-dark boundary, his gaze deep on her, lips slightly parted: “ПoдmockoвhыeВeчepa.”

The man’s voice carried the unique charm of the language, low and pleasant, with a trace of magnetism that made her ears tingle.

Within the bright and flowing melody, she felt as if she had arrived in the late-night garden from the song, moonlight reflecting on flowing water, silver shimmering…

In the dreamlike scene, she saw Huo Heng reach out his hand to her. Without understanding, she handed hers, and he gently held it.

Warmth met coolness, firmness met softness.

She thought he was inviting her to dance.

But he wasn’t.

He slowly bent down, lowering his head, and lightly kissed the back of her hand.

At that moment, her heart seemed to stop.

This was Russian etiquette: in formal occasions, a man’s greeting to a lady.

Long eyelashes fluttered sharply upward. Mu He raised her head, looking straight at him.

His brow was high, nose prominent, eye sockets deep, yet she clearly did not see any sign of passion or desire in his deep brown eyes—only… clarity.

Ahem, maybe she had misunderstood.

Sure enough, still not pure.

Mu He quickly extricated herself from the faint intimacy, playfully blinking: “Did I get promoted?”

From junior to equal rank with him.

Huo Heng leaned closer, stopping at a gentlemanly distance, and whispered another phrase in Russian—

“Yangyang, I’m glad to have the chance to see you again.”

Only he knew the depth of meaning behind the words.

Mu He… didn’t understand a single word. After Huo Heng left, she lay on the big bed, staring at the dazzling stars above, endlessly pondering what his words could mean.

The moon sets, the sun rises, cycle repeats.

Soon, the audition for Immortal Heroic Romance arrived, held on the twelfth floor of the Rong’an Hotel. Mu He and Tan Mian arrived early; the hallway was already lined with a long queue. The auditionees included many second- and third-tier female performers, each beautiful—indicating just how coveted this role was, and how fierce the competition.

The audition order and content were determined by lottery. There were thirty people in total. Mu He drew the last number. As for which scene would be auditioned, Tan Mian tried asking around but obtained no useful information.

Perhaps it was meant to test the actors’ improvisational ability.

Because it was a period costume, the production team had specially prepared a makeup room. Mu He glanced inside and saw the costume designer helping a girl in a flowing white dress adjust her skirt. She wanted to get a clearer look, but the slightly ajar door slammed shut with a bang.

Mu He withdrew her gaze and went to the waiting room. Possibly because she was a new face, she immediately drew a lot of attention upon entering. However, no one came over to talk to her. In this circle, ranks were clearly defined, and besides, they were competitors.

She found a spot in the corner and sat quietly, waiting.

The first auditioning actress had already come out, expressionless, showing neither joy nor anger, and it was hard to tell how it had gone.

The second girl in a white dress went in.

The third one wore a black long dress.

In and out, only black and white. People began to catch on: the white dress was likely for the pure Dragon Girl Xi Yin, and the black dress was naturally for the darkened version, so they had a rough idea.

By the middle of the auditions, the actresses went in and out faster, and one even came out with red eyes, probably having been scolded to tears by the director.

The atmosphere shifted from calm to restless.

When only three actresses remained in the waiting room, Zhao Yike arrived late. Her assistant Lili had drawn her number as 29, just before Mu He.

Tan Mian immediately felt uneasy. Why was Zhao Yike here too?

Truly a narrow road for rivals.

Zhao Yike was acquainted with one of the other actresses. After a few casual exchanges, she seemed to notice Mu He for the first time: “What a coincidence, you’re here too.”

Mu He politely smiled back: “Yes, quite a coincidence.”

Zhao Yike looked embarrassed, a hint of dislike flickering in her eyes, but her smile remained sweet: “Well, let’s each show our true skills later.”

Tan Mian rolled her eyes inwardly and whispered: “Teacher Mu, it’s almost your turn. Are you nervous?”

Mu He gave a reassuring look. She had done a lot of preparation and had thoroughly studied the character; she was confident she could perform well, no matter which scene was auditioned.

Unexpectedly, a change occurred. The 28th girl, wearing a white dress, probably had been scolded severely and ran out crying. No one could stop her; she disappeared immediately.

Then, a tricky problem arose for Mu He. Both she and Zhao Yike were assigned to perform the scene of Xi Yin’s first appearance on Earth, but the production team had prepared only two white fairy dresses. One had been taken by number 28, and the other… Zhao Yike had claimed it first.

Tan Mian’s face turned pale: “I’ll go find number 28!”

Mu He showed no panic, but her mood stirred. The reason the team had specially prepared the costumes was to test the actor’s fit with the role. All actresses performing her scene had chosen the white dress; obviously, the black dress was intended for the darkened Xi Yin…

Zhao Yike changed into her costume and saw Mu He staring at the two black dresses, feeling an indescribable satisfaction. Even the heavens seemed to be on her side.

She twirled her slim waist in the flowing white fairy dress and sauntered in.

Ten minutes later, Zhao Yike finished her audition and came out, seeing Mu He resignedly wearing the black dress, with Tan Mian standing beside her looking miserable. Her gaze was full of sympathy, gently biting her lower lip, speaking innocently: “Sigh, I really wanted to give you my dress, but it seems there isn’t enough time…”

Tan Mian gritted her teeth silently: Fake kindness, hypocritical. Of everyone here, you probably most want Teacher Mu to fail the audition.

Mu He smiled and met Zhao Yike’s eyes: “It’s okay.”

Zhao Yike couldn’t tell that Mu He was forcing a smile, putting on a brave face, and her heart must have been in complete chaos. This audition had gone particularly smoothly for her. The producer praised her performance, the director affirmed her acting, and the screenwriter even stated that she perfectly matched the image of Xi Yin in her mind.

This role, she was almost guaranteed to get.

Zhao Yike’s smile deepened: “Then good luck to you.”

As she turned away, the smile vanished completely.

She could almost imagine the expressions of the director and producer when they saw Mu He wearing the seductive black dress to audition for the pure fairy Dragon Girl Xi Yin.

Heh, why embarrass yourself? Isn’t it safer to just play a minor role?

As Zhao Yike left, a staff member came out and called: “Number 30, why aren’t you coming in yet?”

Tan Mian’s face was full of concern: “Teacher Mu…”

Mu He was calm, smiling: “Do your best, and leave the rest to fate.”

She lifted her dress and walked toward the audition room. After knocking and receiving a response from inside, she closed her eyes briefly, then slowly opened them, her gaze pure and clear like a post-rain sky.

Then, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.