Li Mengjue remained silent for a long time.
“Are you shocked?” Assistant Zheng asked.
Li Mengjue nodded. “I feel like my worldview is collapsing.”
“You don’t need to be so humble, Teacher Li,” Zheng said. “Even at Star River Group, many people are your fans, and that’s right in the middle of Qingxiao’s ‘home base’.”
“That’s different,” Li Mengjue replied.
Miss Ruan was, of course, different.
“How so?”
Li Mengjue smiled. “It’s hard to say. It’s just a feeling.”
Zheng was tactful enough not to push further. Li Mengjue walked her all the way to the bus stop across from the hospital, where it was easy to hail a taxi. Before Li Mengjue could turn back, Zheng called out to her with a somewhat abrupt question.
“Teacher Li, have you ever met Qingxiao before? I mean, in private, before she debuted.”
“Before her debut?” Li Mengjue thought for a moment and shook her head. “No.”
“Are you sure?” Zheng pressed.
“Someone as… beautiful as Miss Ruan? If I had seen that face before, I don’t think I would have forgotten it,” Li Mengjue said.
But why does Assistant Zheng think so? Li Mengjue had many questions but decided not to ask. Sometimes, knowing the answer only leads to regret because it becomes impossible to untangle oneself from the situation. To avoid trouble, silence is usually best.
Once Zheng got into a taxi, Li Mengjue nodded a farewell and crossed the street back to the hospital.
Inside the ward, Ruan Qingxiao was fiddling with her new phone. There was no SIM card, but the VIP ward’s Wi-Fi was enough for her to start gathering information. She sat bolt upright on the bed, absorbed in the screen.
When Li Mengjue sat down on the stool nearby, Ruan Qingxiao turned her head. Her previously indifferent expression instantly bloomed into a radiant smile. The joy in her eyes was impossible to ignore. It was as if simply seeing Li Mengjue’s face made her feel blissful.
Li Mengjue instinctively leaned back. It was a slight movement, just resting against the back of the chair, but Ruan Qingxiao caught the subtle hint of distance. Her smile dimmed.
Li Mengjue ignored it and informed her that Assistant Zheng had gone to the hotel to fetch the documents. She promised to stay until Zheng returned to prove her identity.
Ruan Qingxiao didn’t seem to care much about the documents. She nodded absentmindedly, looking hesitant.
“Before this… did I do something bad to you?” Ruan Qingxiao asked out of the blue.
Li Mengjue blinked and said cautiously, “No.”
That was the truth. In the original plot, the villain hadn’t had the chance to do anything yet—and likely wouldn’t now.
“Do you hate me?”
“I don’t,” Li Mengjue said. Also the truth. She only hated trouble. Without the “plot” hanging over them, she actually admired Miss Ruan’s face and acting skills.
Ruan Qingxiao gave a soft “oh.” Even though she didn’t see any disgust on Li Mengjue’s face, she felt an inexplicable sense of loss. She wanted to be close to her, but the other woman seemed to be resisting. She wanted to know why, but she was afraid that being persistent would make her annoying.
When Zheng was there, Ruan Qingxiao could run circles around her until the assistant almost broke down—and she had done it on purpose. Moments of lost control often reveal details people don’t realize they’re showing. Through their interaction, Ruan had determined that Zheng was trustworthy and truly cared for her.
But with Li Mengjue, she didn’t dare test her. She didn’t want to be hated. She was terrified of seeing a look of loathing on that face. So, she would be “good.” As long as Sister Li stayed in the room, it was enough.
Soon, Li Mengjue noticed Ruan’s distraction. Although Ruan’s head was down, she hadn’t touched the screen in a long time. Her gaze had drifted to the bedside, staring at Li Mengjue’s hand—specifically, the little fox charm.
Zheng’s earlier question returned to Li Mengjue’s mind.
She was certain she hadn’t met Ruan Qingxiao outside of formal acting circles. But as she looked down at the heiress’s profile—watching her stare at the fox charm with such intensity—a sense of “deja vu” washed over her.
She had seen this profile before. She had seen this look, this expression. But where? The answer was on the tip of her tongue when her phone suddenly rang. The little red fox jerked as the phone vibrated.
Ruan Qingxiao snapped out of her daze. Li Mengjue signaled that she was going outside to take the call. It was her manager, Sister Ling, calling to discuss work arrangements before she joined the new film crew.
The call lasted a while. Just as it was ending, Assistant Zheng returned with a briefcase. Li Mengjue signaled that she was still on the phone and let Zheng enter the ward alone.
When Ruan Qingxiao looked up and saw it was only Zheng, the look of disappointment on her face was staggering.
Assistant Zheng: “…” So sorry I’m not Teacher Li.
Zheng smoothed her expression and handed over the documents. These weren’t just ID papers; they were clear instructions for Ruan’s affairs. Ruan Qingxiao was the type to always plan for the worst—accidents, sudden illness, or “foul play.”
It was a neurotic level of caution, but it was coming in handy. This was the first time Zheng had seen the specific details of these “arrangements,” and even she was shocked.
Miss Ruan had everything planned out, including where to scatter her ashes. She had documents giving Zheng power of attorney over all her affairs. She had already legally partitioned her assets to ensure the Ruan family wouldn’t get a single cent.
One-fourth would be donated. One-fourth was for Zheng Yunhe.
As for the remaining half…
This was the part that stunned Zheng. Ruan Qingxiao’s will left half of her fortune to Li Mengjue.
Being a fan to the point of leaving half your estate to your idol… that’s probably a world record, Zheng thought.
“Since you’ve only lost your memory, I don’t think we need to worry about the will for now,” Zheng said, hiding that paper at the bottom and showing her the power of attorney.
Since Ruan Qingxiao wasn’t incapacitated or brain-dead, Zheng needed her consent to move forward. The amnesiac Ruan had no objections. She shoved the papers back to Zheng; in her current state, she couldn’t handle any work besides acting anyway. And even for acting, she’d have to study the script from scratch.
“If I handle all these affairs, I won’t be able to stay by your side 24/7,” Zheng said. “I’m investigating the cause of your accident, but it might take time. However, I can confirm that Teacher Li has nothing to do with it.”
Ruan Qingxiao frowned slightly, looking unhappy that Zheng had even suspected Li Mengjue.
“Teacher Li is a good person,” Zheng continued. “She even took up Sanda (kickboxing) while preparing for a role and won a national championship. You’re about to film together for a while.”
In other words: She can protect you.
Ruan Qingxiao understood but looked aggrieved. “She doesn’t seem to want to stay with me.”
Zheng was amazed to see such a childlike expression on her boss’s face. “If you looked at your father or brother like that, maybe even they would soften their hearts.”
She stopped herself before she went too far. Even with amnesia, Ruan’s hatred for the Ruan family seemed to be a primal instinct; she looked disgusted just hearing them mentioned.
“If she really hated you, she wouldn’t be staying here,” Zheng said, bringing the focus back to Li Mengjue. “Teacher Li is a kind soul. Relationships take time to form. It’s a pity you kept your feelings for her so well-hidden in the past; I don’t know the full history between you two.”
Zheng shrugged with a hint of schadenfreude. There’s no subordinate who doesn’t enjoy seeing their boss a little flustered. Ruan Qingxiao was so young yet usually so old-fashioned and cold; it was refreshing to see her looking like a regular, rejected young person for once.
“So,” Zheng said with a smile, “unless you want me to hire a team of 24-hour bodyguards and assistants to swarm you on set, you’ll have to work hard on your own.”
Work hard to convince Teacher Li to take you in.