City C.
This was the place Li Mengjue had chosen after much deliberation.
The scholarships weren’t the most generous, and the cost of living wasn’t the lowest, but it held one fatal attraction for her:
City C was located far away from where the “plot” was supposed to take place.
The main stage of the original story was set in the capital, City B. In the novel, the timeline officially begins during the university years. However, the fate of the male and female leads started much earlier—they had attended school in the same city for all six years of middle and high school. In a sense, they were “old hometown friends.” It was this very connection that allowed the plot to entangle them through various coincidences, kickstarting that melodramatic, angst-ridden romance.
—Yes, this was a goddamn “tragic love” novel.
The female lead was a total underdog, an orphan, while the male lead was a classic wealthy young master. Setting aside his arrogant and playboy personality, the sheer contempt from his circle of friends was enough to make any self-respecting person feel humiliated. Furthermore, the “wicked fiancée” and “evil mother-in-law” appeared one after another to publicly shame the female lead until she felt she had no place in the world.
Even with the “love” of the reformed young master as support, the female lead eventually spiraled into a breakdown and attempted suicide. Of course, the attempt failed, but only because a neighbor noticed something wrong and called emergency services just in time.
What followed was the young master’s deep regret and fear, leading him to finally realize her importance. He transformed into a devoted “wife-slave,” helping her take revenge on everyone who had hurt her—including his own mother. For a tragic romance novel labeled with a “Happy Ending,” this conclusion was considered satisfying.
If Li Mengjue were just a casual reader flipping through the pages to kill time, she might have given it a mediocre review. But if these melodramatic tropes were to fall on her own head, she would naturally run as far away as possible.
Li Mengjue had been brought to the city by her guardian when she was a teenager and spent six years there. By the time she regained her memories, her “hometown” connection with the male lead was already an unchangeable fact. They had crossed paths a few times during those years. No sparks flew; instead, it served as a warning bell for her regarding the “inevitability” of the plot.
Could so-called “Fate” truly be broken?
Li Mengjue had yet to reach a definitive conclusion, but judging by the results, it seemed possible to escape it to some extent. Before graduating high school, she entered the entertainment industry, and the “destined” male lead never appeared before her again. A large part of the reason was that she began traveling all over the country; her free time was spent either studying or working on sets. Because of her outstanding looks, she never lacked work, though the pay was low and the pressure was high.
Of course, that was only in comparison to the seniors in the industry who became overnight sensations. For the Li Mengjue of that time—who was penniless and had nothing to offer but her face—the entertainment industry was the fastest and easiest way to make money.
As for what the young master (who viewed the industry as “vulgar and unlucky”) thought later on, Li Mengjue didn’t know, nor did she care. As long as she didn’t see an annoying person flickering in front of her, she could put them out of her mind as if they didn’t exist.
Later, her former agency suggested she apply to schools in City B because of the higher volume of activities and proximity to the headquarters. Li Mengjue refused outright, citing “the cost of living is too high.”
Ultimately, she chose the famous film academy furthest from City B.
It was in City C.
But it wasn’t until Ruan Qingxiao mentioned their university days that Li Mengjue realized, in hindsight, that the plot on the other side had undergone a shift without her knowledge.
—Ruan Qingxiao was originally supposed to go to university in City B to attend the top fine arts academy in the country.
Before she could think of a solid conclusion, Li Mengjue followed her intuition and asked Ruan Qingxiao, “What was your major in university?”
Ruan Qingxiao tried to recall for a moment and said uncertainly, “I think it was computer… something related to programming?”
Li Mengjue almost blurted out: “Wasn’t it a painting major?”
Ruan Qingxiao fell silent for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t like painting.”
Li Mengjue: “…”
Something had definitely gone wrong with the plot.
It was on the fourth day of living at Li Mengjue’s house that Ruan Qingxiao finally stepped into her studio.
The studio doubled as a study, though primarily for storing books. Li Mengjue sometimes sat on the lounge chair by the window to read books or scripts, but she rarely worked here. To her, this room was a place for pure relaxation. Ruan Qingxiao had seen the room on her first day, but to her, a study was a more private place than a bedroom, so she had never entered it of her own accord.
However, today was unlucky. The two had been in the living room watching television—analyzing Director Li’s previous works—and eventually agreed to watch a similar film by another director.
Before Li Mengjue could pick up the remote, a flash of lightning flickered outside. The TV screen went black with a click. The ceiling lights extinguished at the same instant.
Ruan Qingxiao was visibly startled.
Li Mengjue felt her tremble; Ruan’s tense hand bumped against her arm with a light thud. But this slight physical contact was quickly drowned out by the rolling thunder. Remembering that Ruan didn’t like being touched, Li Mengjue hesitated and remained still, only speaking once the thunder had passed.
“It might be a tripped breaker,” Li Mengjue said. “Are you alright?”
Ruan Qingxiao took a beat before answering, “I’m fine.”
Li Mengjue stood up and walked toward the foyer. “I’ll go check the main power switch.”
It was only early evening. Although dark clouds had loomed for a while, there was still some light filtering in; the house wasn’t pitch black. After the thunder stopped, a faint meow came from the storage room in the north; the kittens seemed frightened as well.
Ruan Qingxiao snapped out of it at the sound of the cats. She unconsciously clenched her palms, her eyes trailing after Li Mengjue. Only then did she get up to follow, intending to ask if she should provide some light with her phone.
But Li Mengjue was fast. By the time she reached the breaker box, she had already switched on her phone’s flashlight.
“It really was a tripped breaker.” Li Mengjue glanced at the gloomy window before pushing the switch back up. “It’s quite rare. We’ve had too many thunderstorms lately.”
Ruan Qingxiao closed her mouth and sat back down. A moment later, she replied stiffly, “Yes.”
The lights flickered back on. Li Mengjue looked at Ruan Qingxiao and asked, “Are you afraid of thunder?”
“It was just so sudden,” Ruan Qingxiao said. “I didn’t react in time.”
She was a bit stiff. The blank space in her memory meant she also lacked self-awareness. In that moment, she had been startled, but once she realized Li Mengjue was sitting right beside her, those emotions dissipated before they could turn into fear.
—Because Li Mengjue was right there.
So, she didn’t know if she used to be afraid. Should I answer that I’m ‘afraid’? Ruan Qingxiao looked up, her gaze following Li Mengjue’s movements. The question circled her mind as she struggled to decide.
Would saying I’m afraid make me seem too delicate? Or perhaps… would she spend a little more time accompanying and comforting me?
But in her moment of contemplation, Ruan Qingxiao missed the chance to change her answer.
Li Mengjue crouched in front of the TV cabinet. She tapped the television a few times and pressed several buttons before announcing regretfully, “The TV seems to be fried.”
She could smell a faint burnt scent. To avoid any accidents, she quickly unplugged it.
Just then, the heavy rain outside poured down—as if someone were dumping buckets of water from above—interspersed with a second round of lightning and thunder. Fortunately, the power didn’t trip again, and the lights remained on.
Li Mengjue looked back at Ruan Qingxiao. This time, having been mentally prepared, the young miss didn’t seem frightened.
In this weather, it wasn’t right to call for immediate repairs. Li Mengjue closed several windows to keep the rain out. When she returned to the living room, she saw Ruan Qingxiao holding up her phone.
“The internet signal is gone too,” Ruan Qingxiao was the first to discover the bad news.
“Well, watching dramas is out of the question.” Li Mengjue sighed, tapping her forehead. Finally, she turned her gaze toward the study. “Do you want to read some books?”
And so, they relocated to the study-slash-studio.
The study had two walls of open bookshelves that reached the ceiling. On the other side was a display cabinet and storage lockers. At a glance, the collection was eclectic, but generally categorized. Aside from various obscure professional books—even a few on anatomy—the area near the entrance was filled with colorful popular novels and manga.
Judging by the wear on the corners, Li Mengjue had actually read the books on the shelves within reach. Ruan Qingxiao’s gaze swept over the diverse collection, finally landing on a corner filled with painting supplies.
The paper on the easel only had a rough sketch. The silhouette looked like the windowsill directly opposite, and the pot of blooming roses sitting upon it.
Li Mengjue hadn’t spent much time in the study these past few days, and before that, she had been running to the hospital. Therefore, this sketch must have been made even longer ago. A few days ago, the pink roses were still in bud; today, several flowers were already starting to wilt.
Ruan Qingxiao scrutinized the corner out of curiosity and surprise. Based on Li Mengjue’s various interviews, she had never mentioned having a hobby for painting. Or perhaps, Ruan just hadn’t seen that part yet. It wasn’t strange; most interviews lasted only a few minutes and focused on the work itself. It was impossible to understand everything about Li Mengjue through those alone.
But…
But after seeing those paintings, Ruan Qingxiao blurted out: “Sister, are you still painting now?”
Li Mengjue replied, “It’s just a small hobby.”
Then they locked eyes and simultaneously fell into silence.
—How did she know that I have been painting since “before”?