Chapter 78

Chapter 78

In the end, Qi Wei posted a statement using An Ye's social media account. The wording was very conservative, only acknowledging that she and Chi Lv were very close friends, leaving everything else blank.

The heat on social media gradually faded because of this statement and Wang Shanshan's interview, but the public relations undercurrents never disappeared. People from Huàn Zhōu kept leaking information, such as stories about An Ye and Chi Tuo being mistaken for twins by their kindergarten teacher when they were kids, or claims from their so-called classmates who said they always thought they were siblings. There were also some jokes about them being born on the same day in the same year. Even the paparazzi captured images suggesting that An Ye had seemingly moved to a neighboring community. Luckily, only Chi Tuo’s assistant, Lin Hao, knew where he lived, and even his law firm colleagues didn’t know what car he drove. Otherwise, the rumors about them living together would have spread instantly.

Qi Wei kept monitoring these scattered rumors, redirecting the public opinion whenever it went off course. Every day, there were back-and-forth exchanges with wins and losses on both sides.

It was only after this incident that An Ye realized how much of a fighter Qi Wei actually was. She must have suppressed her true nature for a long time to match An Ye’s Zen-like, conflict-avoiding personality. Although Qi Wei was busier than ever, her spirits were getting higher.

Lan Yifang also started mentoring a new assistant, a 19-year-old girl named Xiao Yao, who was like a caretaker for An Ye. Xiao Yao was from the same hometown as Lan Yifang and was a bit more lively than Lan Yifang. However, Chi Tuo secretly tested her twice and told An Ye that Xiao Yao was much tighter-lipped than Lan Yifang.

An Ye didn’t like having people too close when working, especially if they weren’t very familiar. So, Xiao Yao was mostly tasked with booking flights, ordering catering, and handling small logistical matters on set.

Because of this, Lan Yifang had become quite idle lately. So idle, in fact, that she would even check the undergarments An Ye was supposed to wear for work every day.

After the live stream incident, Lan Yifang developed a slight paranoia, but her caution did indeed have its benefits. When the “Sunshine City” crew resumed filming after finishing the final scenes, she caught a paparazzo sneaking into the work crew. An Ye rewarded her with 500 yuan.

Chi Tuo had been talking about this for three days.

He was bewitched by An Ye’s beauty and, inexplicably, temporarily took over the financial work at her studio. He didn’t understand why a lawyer would be involved in such tasks.

But since he had already taken it on, he was quite diligent, learning how to do weekly reports. He was very puzzled by An Ye’s sudden, arbitrary behavior of handing out bonuses. She couldn’t even explain why it was 500 yuan instead of 600 yuan. She just transferred it randomly and asked him to keep track of it.

So, Chi Tuo and Qi Wei had a meeting and, by the way, they finalized a framework for personnel incentives.

Things at the studio were chaotic, changing every day, but slowly taking shape. An Ye returned to her usual state of retreating into her work whenever she joined a new project.

It had been nearly a month since she had actively contacted Wang Shanshan. Finally, after An Ye entered the new film set, Wang Shanshan called her. They started with small talk, asking if she had been keeping her weight in check, if she had been eating properly, and when she would wrap up filming.

An Ye answered with "mm-hmm" and "yeah" and didn’t ask why Wang Shanshan had taken the interview on her own.

After the small talk, Wang Shanshan asked, "Ye Ye, do you really want to terminate the contract? I heard that Mr. Guan from Huàn Zhōu really likes you. His family is rich, and he has no scandals. He’s handsome and serious about pursuing you. Don’t you want to give him a chance?"

If this were before, An Ye might have snapped back at Wang Shanshan, saying, "Why don’t you give him a chance then?"

But this time, An Ye closed her eyes for a moment.

She said, "Mom, I want to eat ice cream."

On the other end of the phone, Wang Shanshan went silent for a while, hesitantly responding, "What kind of ice cream?"

"Green one, with colorful chocolate chips on top," An Ye said. "Crunchy on the outside, with cream inside."

Lan Yifang, who had been checking An Ye’s costume and undergarment straps, glanced up at An Ye.

Wang Shanshan went quiet again, speaking carefully, "Ye Ye, are you awake now?"

"Mm." An Ye was firm. "I want to eat ice cream."

"You’ll gain weight if you eat ice cream," Wang Shanshan said instinctively. Whenever she noticed that something was off with An Ye, her voice would lower.

"Then forget it," An Ye replied.

She hung up the phone without any expression.

Lan Yifang stood with her mouth slightly open, watching her.

"I wasn’t in character, didn’t feel like sleeping," An Ye glanced back. "I just wanted ice cream.""Should I go buy it?" Lan Yifang stood up.

"No need, I’m dieting." An Ye mumbled, looking down and reopening the script.

Chi Tuo’s attitude towards Zhang Rou was to maintain distance, not to have too many expectations, and to let the other party learn to let go of guilt within that distance.

And she... just wanted to ask her mom for that ice cream.

They were different.

An Ye marked today’s date. Today, at the age of 28, An Ye finally voiced that need for the 14-year-old An Jiujiu.

As for whether it would be answered, that wasn’t her concern.

She only told Dr. Yang about these psychological changes, not Chi Tuo.

Although Chi Tuo had said simply on Lantern Festival that as long as she liked him, that was enough, she still wanted it to be a bit healthier, at least not like now, where whenever her emotions were off, Lan Yifang’s hair would stand on end.

"Have you gained weight?" An Ye had already opened the script, but suddenly looked up at Lan Yifang.

Lan Yifang’s small round face immediately turned into a full moon...

"I..." Lan Yifang bit her lip and held up five fingers. "Five pounds."

"…Is it because of stress?" An Ye frowned. Lan Yifang’s eating habits were normal, but recently she had been eating two boxes of fast food every night.

"Ah?" Lan Yifang seemed like it was the first time she’d heard this. "Does stress make you gain weight?"

"Stress makes you want to eat, and eating too much will make you gain weight." An Ye closed the script. "Tell Qi Wei to add a mental health check to your annual physical exam."

"As for you," she continued seriously, "try to control it. If you can’t, let me know, and I’ll introduce you to a psychiatrist for an evaluation."

Lan Yifang hurriedly nodded, her eyes red as she did.

An Ye: "...What’s wrong?"

"Just..." Lan Yifang bit her lip, "An Jie, you’ve gotten so much better now. I can’t explain it, just... you’re getting better."

An Ye awkwardly lowered her head and flipped through the script. "...Oh."

Neither of them was the type to get emotional, so the topic ended there.

However, every morning during the morning runs on the set, Lan Yifang became one of the regulars.

The "Sunshine City" drama was a month away from wrapping up. Yang Zhengyi revised the script. At the moment when all hope seemed lost, Alin received a bouquet of sunflowers from the model. In the end, Alin didn’t run towards the light, but the real-life Alin received a real, fragrant bouquet of sunflowers.

Alin, who had isolated herself, feeling like no one cared and that no one would notice if she died, now had a real, tangible visitor.

Alin said to the model, "I don’t know you."

The model replied, "Your bank card is with me. Your hospitalization fees weren’t enough, so I covered some. You need to write me an IOU. Once you’re discharged and back to work, you can pay me back."

Alin held the bouquet of sunflowers, staring at the model’s face, and cried.

She might eventually tell that annoying cop about the cruel murder she witnessed, tell him where the poor girl’s body was hidden, or maybe she wouldn’t.

But this IOU, connected to the world of the living, mixed with the greasy smell of the sunflowers, became the last thread that held her from falling.An Ye really liked this ending; it made perfect sense to her.

Because things made sense, the filming went smoothly. An Ye was able to finish early almost every day, but she rarely took the initiative to contact Chi Tuo.

She started to fight with herself.

When she felt exhausted, sleepy, or overwhelmed by the emotional weight of her role, she always thought about calling Chi Tuo, but always ended up tossing her phone to Lan Yifang before dialing.

She couldn’t explain why she did it, but subconsciously, she felt that she couldn’t keep turning to Chi Tuo every time her negative emotions peaked—Chi Tuo wasn’t her emotional trash bin.

She began to shorten the frequency of video calls with Dr. Yang. Dr. Yang remained the same stable figure, gently guiding her through what had been happening recently and in the past, rarely giving any final conclusions. As for relationships, Dr. Yang’s opinion was that it was fine; living freely wasn’t wrong.

After talking with Dr. Yang, if she was in a lighter mood, An Ye would reward herself by calling Chi Tuo.

Chi Tuo was also very busy.

He always said that her career was booming. His new entertainment team had become the only one in their building with skyrocketing results, and for over a month, more than ten people in the team hadn’t even been able to show up in the office.

Today, An Ye had hospital scenes to shoot. It was the dark before dawn. As the suspect in a murder case, Alin’s treatment at the hospital was forced and very painful.

While she was filming, Chi Tuo was doing his skydiving stunts. He had been away from Bai Gang City for four days. His work mostly consisted of arriving at airports, having a meal, doing the job, and then flying off to another destination.

When he reached his destination, he called An Ye. She was exhausted after the hospital scene, and Chi Tuo’s voice sounded hoarse.

"Didn’t sleep well again?" He sounded like he had stayed up all night.

"Only three hours of sleep last night, but I’ll be back in Bai Gang today." There was the sound of him drinking water. "I’ll rest for a day when I get back. I can’t hold on anymore."

An Ye didn’t respond.

Chi Tuo’s calmness and willingness to admit when things were a mess was very moving.

She felt like kissing him.

It had been a month since that kiss on Lantern Festival. They had only exchanged a few quick pecks, and neither of them really understood why they had gotten so busy.

"Should I visit the set tomorrow?" Chi Tuo asked again.

He wasn’t unaware that since Lantern Festival, An Ye had withdrawn again, but her mental state had improved, and her approach to things had become more positive. So, Chi Tuo decided to let her adjust on her own for a while.

Actually, he was a little afraid.

Things had progressed too quickly that day; if they did it again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

"Come over after you wake up." An Ye instructed. Before hanging up, she started battling with herself again. This time, her emotions won, and just before hanging up, she said, "Hurry back, I miss you."

Chi Tuo hadn’t hung up the phone yet. There was a long silence before he softly responded, "Mmm."

Lan Yifang was beside her, munching away, her face full of wrinkles.

After An Ye hung up, she quietly sat in the car, removing her makeup, and finished work early again. She felt a bit aimless.

This relationship had a very positive effect on her. An Ye could feel it—some subtle changes were happening with every sunrise and sunset. When she filmed this type of scene before, she would get lost in the role, but this time, when she looked at herself in the mirror, taking off Alin's persona to reveal An Ye, she felt unexpectedly relieved.

It was the feeling of finally finishing a hard day’s work, not the lingering attachment of being immersed in the character.

There were also other changes, ones that seemed unrelated to the relationship.

She had started taking back control of her social media accounts and planned to post two or three updates a week—some from the set, or some random things she had filmed herself.Dr. Yang suggested that she could try reading fan comments, both the positive and negative ones, to experience the real world she, as An Ye the celebrity, touches. Dr. Yang said she could try to feel the emotions that these comments create towards her as a person.

Dr. Yang's focus had never changed. He guided An Ye to feel herself, pausing for long periods during their conversations to let her reflect on her emotions. The feelings of resentment, fear, or despair, he helped her pinpoint them, then guided her to recall the reasons these emotions had been triggered.

An Ye was very cooperative with Dr. Yang's treatment. She didn’t know when the black hole inside her heart would be filled or covered up, but for now, this method of having little tasks to do every week made her feel safe.

So, this morning before filming, she posted a picture of her breakfast—one boiled egg, lonely in a small white bowl. She only posted the photo, without any caption.

In the comments, aside from those asking when her new movie would be released or why she wasn’t posting selfies, there were some inexplicably negative remarks. For example, some criticized her for dieting even though she was already so thin, arguing that such a value system would lead kids astray. Others said the bowl must be expensive, and that celebrities were too delicate, needing their assistants to peel their eggs for them. There were even some fortune tellers who claimed to know her fake birth date and predicted how long she would remain famous, or that she was destined for some calamities.

An Ye read through every single comment seriously.

It still felt like reading someone else's story—whether it was casual selfies praised by fans for her “world-class beauty” or meticulously edited photos criticized by haters for having sagging skin or visible laugh lines, or for not maintaining her beauty well enough, causing her "flower period" to be too short.

It didn’t affect her.

Until now. An Ye was scrolling through the comments under the boiled egg photo she posted this morning when she saw an ID, "Qu Xiang Xiang Tian Ge." This person had posted just one minute after her Weibo post, with the caption "Baby, be happy [heart heart]" along with a picture of her from the drama set, followed by a series of fan comments like “Sister, love you,” “Wife, I miss you,” which dominated the post.

An Ye stared at this ID and clicked on their profile.

The profile picture was a still from her drama with Lin Luo, where she played a young girl sitting in a market, looking down as she slaughtered fish.

Pinned at the top was a long Weibo post, detailing her acting resume and listing her upcoming works.

Almost every day, there were about ten Weibo posts, all about her, with photos and fan-like commentary. It looked just like any other fan account.

An Ye then clicked on some of the earlier Weibo posts from the promotional team at Huanzhou that had been posted for her.

Almost every one had this same ID under the comments. Perhaps today, the photo they had posted was newer, which is why it had been bumped to the front page, where An Ye saw it.

She checked the time. Chi Tuo was probably in a meeting with a client right now.

She silently clicked on some of the other popular comments under her Weibo posts and saw that "Qu Xiang Xiang Tian Ge" really wasn’t any different from the others, except that every comment from them had a "[heart heart]" and, strangely, every post had word counts that were multiples of three.

A nearly nine-year-old fan, the earliest Weibo post said, "Nice to meet you, Little Lin Luo." [heart heart]

An Ye locked her screen and threw her phone onto the table.

Tears began to uncontrollably well up. Lan Yifang nervously stood nearby, her hair standing up in every direction.

“It’s fine,” An Ye heard herself say. “Tell Master Chen I’ll go home and sleep tonight.”

She missed him.

This silly person, ever since their first encounter, had always said the same thing: “Baby, be happy every day. Baby, be happy. Baby, always be happy.”

Like an obsession, his words appeared under every one of her Weibo posts.

For a full nine years.