Lin Que was a vampire.
Unlike others of her kind, she could not die, and once she reached adulthood, she ceased to age. Her death was merely a rebirth.
One day, she would wake up to find herself transformed back into an infant or something else entirely. In that moment, she would understand: yesterday was the final day of the old era, and her former peers would now become her mother, her sister, her friend, or her enemy. It was as if the Gods had grown lazy while sculpting life, and so, she simply existed.
God—what a capricious and selfish being. He granted her eternal life, yet punished her by forcing her to live as a shifting, ancient tombstone amidst a world of fleeting change.
That summer was like any other she had experienced before: the discordant chirping of cicadas and the scorching sun hanging high in the sky. The days felt like “copy and paste” repetitions; the only changes were the red lights extending from thirty to fifty seconds, and the fact that this time, she was found by Shen Yuchu while she was still an infant.
Shen Yuchu was different from her. She was not a vampire, yet she did not age either. Long, long ago, she had told Lin Que with sparkling eyes, “Sister, I won’t lose you ever again.”
But in truth, they had still “lost” each other many times. Staying still in time was not an eternal chain. This was the first time Shen Yuchu had found Lin Que as a baby, and for a long time, she was quite smug about it.
“Sister, this time, I’m your mommy~.”
Lin Que had responded with a roll of her eyes, grabbed a stool, and slammed the door as she walked out.
Under the pagoda tree, a sudden breeze kicked up. It wasn’t until the hem of her skirt brushed against the skin of her calves, causing a faint itch, that Lin Que snapped out of her thoughts. Her wandering mind returned as a bulky silhouette drew closer. She blinked, but the shadow remained blurry until it finally stopped just an inch away from the shade of the tree.
Lin Que looked up to see a young girl about her height.
The girl wore an oversized ginger-yellow hat and a red short-sleeved shirt printed with a large yellow “LA.” Beneath the hem of her shirt were bright yellow denim shorts that reached mid-thigh. A red backpack hung over her shoulders, and in each hand, she lugged a yellow bag wider than herself. Her eyes, like washed purple grapes, looked at Lin Que with a mix of timidity and curiosity.
Perhaps it was because the color palette of her outfit was so striking, but as Lin Que gazed into the girl’s eyes, her mind went blank for a moment.
“Hello, I’m Lu Ye.”
Lin Que shifted her gaze upward. The moment she met Lu Ye’s eyes, her breathing unconsciously slowed.
Mother.
In the countless years of the past, she had many “mothers.”
There was the hardworking, simple peasant mother who relied on the land; the dignified First Lady of a prestigious household; the heroic woman general who surpassed men in valor; and even a tigress in the jungle whose roars shook the heavens had once raised her as an infant.
However, the mother who had first given her life would never be her mother again. That mother slept forever in the ocean, while she and Lin Xiaobao, her younger sister, survived. Later, Xiaobao also went to sleep in the land of peace.
Lin Que did not believe in gods, let alone reincarnation. But as she looked into Lu Ye’s eyes and saw the tiny reflection of herself in those pupils, the word “mother”—a term so distant—resurfaced in her mind.
It was as if spring sunlight had soaked through a thick block of ice; the thawing waters pushed the shards forward. Clink, clank. The碎 ice collided and melted into the flowing stream.
Spring had arrived in the middle of a scorching summer.
This time, her “mother” was cheerful and enthusiastic, her brows always relaxed. This time, Xiaobao had a healthy body; she was bright, had great grades, and a wonderful personality, always surrounded by a chattering group of lovely children.
Except that she didn’t like Lin Que that much anymore. It was a bit disappointing, but it didn’t matter.
The illusion of a “family reunion” was shattered during the summer she was ten. Lu Ling got her first pair of glasses—dark purple ones.
“…Regardless of whether the hypothesis holds, the results show that I am a very special existence, don’t they?”
Lin Que looked at Lu Ling. Without a mirror, she couldn’t see her own eyes, but she could feel the sour ache in her heart spreading to her gaze. She lowered her eyes. No one noticed—least of all Lu Ling, who was immersed in excitement—that Lin Que’s body swayed slightly.
“Many people in the world are just like you.”
You are Xiaobao.
“Then they… no, then we… we are all very special.”
Lu Ling put on her glasses. The lenses reflected a pale green halo under the sunlight, completely obscuring her pupils. Lin Que stared at her, stubbornly trying to see into her eyes. Finally, she looked away.
“Yes.” “You are all unique.” “You are unique.”
Lu Ling was just Lu Ling. God had played another endlessly lonely joke on her.
However, the turning gears of time would not come to a sudden halt. After Lu Ling moved away from Blue Port Alley, during the quiet days that followed, Lin Que would often find herself applying a formula whenever she had to make a decision: “What would that child do?”
“That child” seemed too arrogant. Eventually, her universal formula settled into: “What would Lu Ling do?”
She began to wonder what little Lu Ling would look like in ten years, twenty years, when she grew into “Big Lu Ling”—or even when her hair turned white. At that time, she hadn’t realized it yet.
She had found “anticipation” again. Anticipation for the next day.
It was just that the grown-up Lu Ling did not become a happy adult.
Moonlight crept into the rental apartment. Outside, the roar of unseen cars whistled by with honking horns. Lu Ling frowned, and the quilt made a slight rustling sound.
Lin Que was listening to a phone call, leaning against the doorframe. Hearing the noise, her body leaned forward slightly. Lu Ling shrank further into the blanket but did not wake. Lin Que couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
Hearing the sigh, Shen Yuchu asked on the other end, “Sister, what’s wrong?”
“If you don’t want to participate in that show, then don’t. I’ll help you find—”
“I’ll do it.”
Lin Que’s gaze unconsciously fell on Lu Ling. The smile in her eyes held a tenderness she hadn’t even noticed in herself.
“We have too much time. Her time is too short compared to ours, and the part she can truly control herself is even shorter… This variety show doesn’t seem like it will be boring.”
Shen Yuchu’s eyes dimmed as she muttered the truth: “You reached that conclusion by watching her reaction, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
Lin Que’s bluntness startled Shen Yuchu. Before she could recover, Lin Que let out a yawn over the phone and sleepily murmured, “Goodnight.” After the call ended, Shen Yuchu sat alone for a long time, clutching the phone.
After the proposal for NEXT was delivered, there had been no immediate follow-up. During this period, scripts were scarce. The plots weren’t exactly brain-dead, but they lacked a certain level of intelligence. Lin Que’s primary work consisted only of scattered commercial shoots.
During a break in a shoot for a bottled water brand, Song He arrived with the contract for NEXT.
Lin Que sat before the vanity mirror. Lu Ling stood beside her. Upon hearing Song He say that the other three guests had also agreed to appear, Lu Ling couldn’t help but think: This production team is truly extraordinary. Not only did they have the guts to come up with such an idea, but they actually pulled it off.
Lin Que was absentmindedly rummaging through her bag. Seeing this, Lu Ling quickly pulled a pen from her pocket and handed it to her.
Song He glanced sideways, freezing for a moment. It was as if she only just realized Lu Ling was Lin Que’s assistant and a member of her own department. She wanted to say something, but Lin Que didn’t give her the chance.
Lin Que twirled the black pen between her fingers while scanning the terms of the contract. Although she had decided to join, she still had to be cautious.
“What’s the background of this production team?”
A crew that could come up with this idea and secure investment had to be something special.
Song He chuckled. “Believe it or not, they don’t have a ‘big’ background.”
Lin Que looked up.
Song He continued, “More than half of the crew—about two-thirds—just graduated with degrees in directing and editing. The specialty of the other half is unknown.”
Before Lu Ling could process this, Lin Que narrowed her eyes at Song He and tossed the contract onto the vanity table. The impact sent a faint cloud of loose powder drifting into the air.
“University students looking for course credit?”
Lu Ling’s eyes widened as she looked at Song He.
“They’ve already graduated, okay? No one is ‘collecting credits,'” Song He said seriously. “The director and screenwriter have worked on hit projects before. When you’re filming, what’s most important? The director and the writer.”
Lin Que stared at her. “This is my variety show debut.”
“You started your career at a high point, yet that hasn’t stopped you from having no scripts to film now, has it?” Song He shrugged. “So, reality proves that how you start doesn’t matter. Even those born with silver spoons in their mouths have the Sword of Damocles—bankruptcy—hanging over their heads until the day they die.”
Lin Que rolled her eyes, refusing to be swayed. “That doesn’t sound very comforting.”
“Then I’ll be direct,” Song He said brightly, patting Lin Que on the shoulder with a detached, teasing air. “Darling, if you give up this opportunity, are you planning to transition into a full-time commercial model? You know better than anyone how fast the entertainment industry moves. You have buzz and traffic, but you’re not the only one who does—every generation brings its own stars.”
Lu Ling looked at Lin Que. Lin Que didn’t move; she seemed to be thinking.
—She’ll sign, Lu Ling thought.
Click—
Lin Que uncapped the pen and leaned forward. The sound of the nib scratching against the paper was brief and decisive.
Song He took the contract and stuffed it into her bag while checking her phone and walking out. “Keep filming. I’ll go back to process the paperwork. Keep an eye out for my message regarding the start date.”
Lu Ling retracted her gaze and noticed Lin Que was still staring in the direction Song He had gone, even after she had vanished from the studio.
“Lin—”
Before Lu Ling could finish, Lin Que tilted her head back and looked straight at her, muttering as if to herself, “Why do I suddenly… feel a bit creeped out?”
“Scared by the university students?” Lu Ling treated it as melancholy and comforted her half-jokingly, “Ms. Lin, don’t look down on newcomers. Every ‘big shot’ started as a rookie!”
Lin Que shook her head and took a deep breath, murmuring, “It’s not that…” She glanced toward the exit again. “I just have a very bad premonition.”
“What bad premonition?” Lu Ling shrugged and joked, “It’s not like they’d start filming the moment the contract is signed, right? This commercial isn’t even finished yet. How could they film the show? It’s not like they can just kidnap you.”
—Actually, they could.
Inside a moving black minivan, Lu Ling and Lin Que sat side-by-side in the back seat. Lu Ling observed Lin Que out of the corner of her eye, while Lin Que gave her a hollow stare.
A prophecy fulfilled; her words had become reality. Lu Ling silently lowered her head.
Vibrate, vibrate.
Lin Que grabbed her phone. After seeing the content, she let out a frustrated laugh.
S&H: Filming starts now!