The previous clamor seemed to belong to another world. Inside the room, Xia Weige could only hear the frantic beating of her own heart and the sound of suppressed, rapid breaths.
Downstairs, she still had a sliver of courage because Wen Rong’s decorum would never allow her to be publicly pushed away, which is why she dared to grasp the other woman tightly.
But now that they were alone, her fingertips began to tremble. The more she feared Wen Rong breaking free, the tighter she squeezed her fingers.
At this moment, Xia Weige indeed felt a hint of resistance and subconsciously tightened her grip even more, wishing she could completely melt Wen Rong’s hand into her own skin.
She kept her head slightly lowered, yet cautiously looked up at Wen Rong, and actually saw displeasure on the face of this perpetually gentle woman.
Wen Rong’s brows were slightly furrowed, a hint of endurance in her eyes, her soft lips tightly sealed as she looked down at Xia Weige.
Even though there was no sign of disgust in her eyes, it was a far cry from her usual warmth.
Xia Weige’s heart trembled, her chest feeling as if it were pierced by a sharp blade.
An empty ache.
“Let go of me,” Wen Rong finally spoke.
Xia Weige bit her lip, her eyes overflowing with boundless reluctance, as if letting go now would mean losing the other person forever.
But she had forgotten that she had already given up on Wen Rong seven years ago.
She stubbornly refused to release her grip, her fingers tightening further, using nearly all her strength.
Wen Rong struggled a few times but couldn’t break free. Seeing Xia Weige’s look, she suddenly sighed softly.
Then she took a step forward, moving even closer to Xia Weige.
A scent, like a blend of Osmanthus and Jasmine, drifted into Xia Weige’s nose—soft, light, and elegant, like a gentle spring breeze.
Xia Weige’s mind was instantly captivated. She saw Wen Rong raise her other hand, her slightly cool fingertips gently falling onto Xia Weige’s cheek.
It was just a light touch, landing just below her left eye.
Xia Weige felt all the blood in her body boiling, and the heat that followed.
She didn’t understand why Wen Rong was making such a sudden move and could only stare blankly at the other woman.
She watched as Wen Rong’s dark hair slightly hung down, her eyes shifting with an implicit, affectionate gaze.
Wen Rong did not move closer again, but gently and seemingly helplessly, she slowly began to speak: “You’re hurting me, let go, Xia Weige.”
Her tone was a plea, almost like a gentle complaint, but the name she called out was “Xia Weige.”
There was no intimacy, only unfamiliarity and distance.
Her tone was soft, yet her brow was slightly furrowed, indicating she was genuinely in pain.
Upon hearing this, Xia Weige abruptly released her fingers and immediately saw the bright red finger marks on Wen Rong’s snow-white wrist.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I…” She apologized desperately, her eyes instantly welling up.
How could she not have meant to? She had clearly and obstinately ignored Wen Rong’s struggles and had even used more force to hurt her when Wen Rong first told her to let go.
Her heart was quickly filled with remorse; she wished Wen Rong would slap her right then and there.
But Wen Rong would never do such a thing. She looked at Xia Weige’s appearance and then glanced at the camera operating inside the room.
She lowered the wrist that was still faintly throbbing, hiding the injury within her sleeve, and at the same time, took a step to the left, using her body to shield the camera directly pointed at Xia Weige.
She was slightly taller than Xia Weige. At this moment, she lowered her head a little, positioning it slightly lower than Xia Weige’s.
Her eyes lifted slightly, and her gentle gaze carried a perfectly measured comfort, looking into Xia Weige’s eyes, like warmth sinking into the heart.
“Good girl, I’m fine. Let me go back and change into clean clothes first.” She paused after speaking, gave a relaxed smile, and added, “You’re acting so tense; others might think you bullied me.”
This mention of “others” was a reminder to Xia Weige that they were currently being livestreamed.
Xia Weige immediately understood the implication, lowered her head, feeling extremely vexed, but no longer displayed intense emotion.
Seeing her calm down, Wen Rong even thoughtfully opened the door for her, smiling as she watched her leave.
Xia Weige exited Wen Rong’s room, aware that there were still cameras in the hallway, and tried hard to keep her face composed, not letting anyone see the change.
She walked all the way back to her room, hid inside the bathroom, and only then did she allow a fragile and frustrated expression to surface.
She tightly clasped her hands, angry and sad—angry at herself for not being able to control her emotions, and sad about the distance beneath Wen Rong’s surface gentleness.
Xia Weige stayed in her room for a long time. Wen Rong had already changed and gone out, and Xia Weige was nowhere to be seen.
What they didn’t know was that the live chat room was already in chaos, to the point that Xia Weige’s manager, Sister Li, had to assign someone to monitor the discussion trend.
[OMG, is Xia Weige actually like this? Usually acts all sweet and sunny, but now she’s rough with her ex?]
[Xia Weige has been acting like a resentful woman since coming on this show. Who is she putting on a show for?]
[Exactly. Crying on the first day, acting like she was heartlessly dumped by the other person, so her fans would sympathize first. This way, after a little emotional distress for the fans, they won’t hold it against her for keeping her relationship a secret from them.]
[Although the same-sex marriage law has been out for a while, I’ve never heard that Xia Weige had an ex. Bringing this up on the show now, is she trying to establish an image and capitalize on it?]
[The ones before are getting way off track. Xia Xia was just too much in love and couldn’t control her emotions, plus the person involved said she’s fine. Why are the haters holding a public condemnation meeting here?]
[Even so, Wen Rong’s look towards Xia Xia was really gentle, ah. Even though they broke up, it doesn’t mean they can’t get back together!]
[If they were really that in love, why did they break up? It’s not even confirmed that she’s really the ex; don’t be so obsessed, CP shippers.]
[We’ll be obsessed, we’ll be obsessed. She even touched her eye.]
[But Sis called Xia Xia “good girl”… that’s too much, she’s so smooth.]
[Good, good, good, I’m already looking forward to the text messages tonight!]
[So exciting!]
[…]
…
It wasn’t until around ten o’clock in the evening that the production team announced that every guest needed to send a text message to the person they liked tonight. They couldn’t sign their name or explicitly confess.
Everyone was aware of this segment. They returned to their respective rooms to send the texts.
The live stream room was packed with viewers at this time, all guessing where the six guests’ text messages would go.
The most discussed pair was still Xia Weige and Wen Rong, given Xia Weige’s high traffic—both haters and fans were watching.
The phones used to send the texts were provided by the production team, and each guest would use one.
The cold white casing was held in Xia Weige’s hand. Wen Rong was rooming with Xiang Meng, while Xia Weige was living alone in a small single compartment, perhaps intentionally set up by the production team because of her celebrity status.
Although it was a pity that she couldn’t stay in the same room as Wen Rong, at least it afforded her some peace and quiet.
At this moment, her fingers tapped on the phone screen, typing out a message, but after a while, she frowned and deleted it.
She repeated this for three or four minutes, but ultimately didn’t send anything.
She had too many things she wanted to say to Wen Rong, but she couldn’t speak when they looked at each other, and she similarly didn’t know how to express it in a text message.
Xia Weige traced her fingers over the corner of her eye, her eyelids half-closed, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
She couldn’t help but recall Wen Rong’s touch beneath her eye just now.
The lingering warmth of Wen Rong’s fingertip seemed to have been imprinted on Xia Weige’s skin. Even now, lightly touching it with her own finger, she could recall the tenderness of that moment.
The director started urging her to send the message. Xia Weige finally thought about it and typed only three words.
Although the camera in the room was running the entire time, it didn’t capture the content of everyone’s phones, making the netizens restless with curiosity. They discussed it eagerly in the live chat.
[What did Xia Weige write? It felt like she was writing for a long time. Argh, why won’t they let us see it!]
[Xiao Zhuo was smiling when he wrote it. He probably sent it to Xia Weige. Xiao Zhuo, pull yourself together, you’re so pathetic.]
[Xia Weige definitely sent it to Wen Rong. What about Wen Rong? Who will she send it to?]
[It’s only the first day, they’ll probably all send it to their ex, after all, they don’t know the others well.]
[Xiao Zhuo: Huh? Send it to an ex? Only Xia Xia!]
[Absolutely not. Xiao Zhuo, please don’t send it to that old woman ex.]
[Stop shipping them, the ones before. Zhuo Jingcheng keeps clinging to Xia Xia like a leech. It’s so annoying.]
[Stop arguing, stop arguing, look, look, they’re about to announce it!]
In the bedroom, Wen Rong sat on the cream-colored sofa, holding her phone with her slender fingers. She heard the phone ring twice, which meant two people had sent her a text message tonight.
She was slightly surprised. She opened the messages. The first one read: “I’d really like to get to know you. Thank you for agreeing to meet in the small garden tonight.”
Wen Rong then understood; this message was from Jiang Xing’an.
She casually closed it, her fingertip tapping the screen to open the second one.
“I’m sorry.”
Wen Rong’s fingertip rested on the screen. There were only three words, and she took it all in with a single glance.
A few strands of long hair fell over her forehead as she looked down, obscuring her expression at the moment.
There were no other messages, so she turned the phone off and did not open it again.
The hidden camera couldn’t capture her emotions. She rose from the sofa and even comforted Xiang Meng, who was beside her and hadn’t received a text message.
It was as if these two messages were of no concern to her at all.