WS - Chapter 2
Chapter 2
They say perfume has top, middle, and base notes. Song Shiyue thought her dream probably had them, too.
The top note was the choking smell of smoke and fire; the base note was the suffocating scent of disinfectant.
As for the middle note...
In her unconscious state, Song Shiyue unconsciously gave her lips a soft, tiny press.
Who would have thought — after seven years of apocalypse, living with so little food and clothing — that I could still relive that sweetness of watermelon in a dream? Truly a rare delight.
That trace of sweetness, still lingering between her lips and teeth, eased some of the pain brought on by the flood of unfamiliar memories.
The moment she passed out, Song Shiyue at last remembered: that enormous explosion, the sky full of fire, and... herself, blasted to pieces, transformed into a tiny orb of light beyond her control, flying upward.
Just like that, leaving behind Central City — half of it bathed in flames — leaving behind an Earth riddled with holes and scars by the apocalypse...
Then, even though she was already dead, she still felt a crushing, overwhelming agony.
In the distance, the blue planet seemed, for some unknowable reason, to begin distorting. Around her floated one orb after another, each a different color, not so different from her own.
As if some invisible, colossal force was about to crush them all to nothing: Earth, and every one of those light orbs.
Pain. Helplessness. Just before they were about to scatter into oblivion, they were flung far, far away.
Song Shiyue's light orb wasn't the only one hurled into the unknown cosmos. But more of them fell back toward Earth, that planet which, after seven years of apocalypse erosion, now seemed to be kneaded and twisted at will by an even more mysterious, titanic power.
Vast, brilliant.
Distorted, and blurred.
Maybe because her death had been so tragic, her post-death experience so bizarre — or because when she first woke, the smoke and fire had muddled her senses — it was only now, with her breathing steadied by the disinfectant smell and abundant oxygen, that Song Shiyue remembered.
What was the dream, exactly?
The twenty years before the apocalypse, or those seven years of the apocalypse?
Dying in Central City — body dead, soul scattered — or the charcoal suicide inside that room?
Or was it the scenes now flashing before her mind, one after another: the short life of a girl on Beichen Planet, also named Song Shiyue?
Having a father who was a master of drinking, whoring, and gambling really was an enormous problem.
But killing yourself over something like that... she was just too young, too pitiful...
This was a world without zombies, without mutated animals and plants; aside from slightly more advanced technology, it was quite similar to Earth otherwise.
Just that alone — no zombies, no mutant creatures — was enough to make Song Shiyue resolve to live another five hundred years.
A girl raised by her mother after her parents divorced when she was small — why would she go looking for a father's love, love that never existed, from a man who had been completely absent for over a decade? Because her mother had passed away? But this was a man who had never cared, never asked, never even paid child support. Yet the moment she gained a little fame, the very first thing he did was show up crying poverty and asking for money — wasn't the problem obvious at a glance...
And so, time after time, she gave him money, backed down step by step, feeding his appetite. From giving money, to having collectors called on her...
From small savings, to completely broke, to drowning in debt...
From hope, to disappointment, to despair...
The girl's short life flashed like a revolving lantern through Song Shiyue's mind. Fortunately, only the memories flashed past, not the feelings.
Living is hard.
People who pile obstacles onto someone else's life... really are detestable...
Song Shiyue didn't know what kind of luck had given her a second chance at life in the body of this girl from a peaceful world. In her heart, she felt the utmost gratitude.
Once she understood the whole story, when Song Shiyue reviewed the memory of the little girl slowly sealing the doors and windows, lighting the charcoal brazier, binding her legs, and swallowing the pills, the fury she'd felt back in that room was long gone. In its place... a bit of sorrow.
Though she couldn't truly feel it as her own, it did affect her.
Song Shiyue's heart felt heavy, but after finishing absorbing the memories, her head didn't hurt as much. In a daze, she seemed to hear voices nearby.
Hm?
It seemed... not just voices.
A sour aroma, and a thick, rich meaty fragrance...
What delicious thing is this!
Song Shiyue couldn't help swallowing. Her seven- to eight-parts dazed state shifted to seven- to eight-parts lucid.
But the moment she made out the voices of the two people nearby, Song Shiyue, embarrassed, abandoned the idea of opening her eyes immediately.
Truth be told, this original body had left her a pot to carry, but it seemed... this pot was even bigger now.
Song Shiyue carefully, slowly drew in a long breath of air — disinfectant-laced, but rich with meaty fragrance — and then squeezed her eyes shut tighter.
"If it wasn't for Zhou Yingshu, were you planning not to tell me about this at all? Do you even still consider me your agent? Don't you realize how big a mess this would be if the media got wind of it?" A forceful, almost irascible female voice resonated through the hospital room.
Song Shiyue exerted herself trying to match this voice to one in the original host's memory, and just barely managed to place it. But before she could think further, she heard another voice answer.
"It seems Ciming Hospital can't keep secrets as well as it claims." A cool, steady voice, like a slender trickle, washed over the previous blaze of temper.
It's her... that pot the original host left me... Song Shiyue's heart clenched, and she couldn't help but shrink back under the blanket, full of guilt.
"What do you mean? Zhou Yingshu was wrong to tell me? Isn't it for your own good? Do you really think if this broke, it's a problem you could handle alone? When the time came, wouldn't the company have to clean it up for you?" Qiu Yishan, provoked by Yu Nianbing's words, felt her seven-tenths of fire surge toward a full ten-tenths.
"So long as Dr. Zhou doesn't, for my own good again, go tell anyone else, I believe this won't break." Somewhere Song Shiyue couldn't see, Yu Nianbing lowered the chopsticks in her hand. A soup dumpling, just lifted but not yet taken to her mouth, landed steadily back in the steamer. "At the time, I dialed Ciming's direct physician line; it was Ciming's confidentiality team who came to pick her up. Now that Sister Qiu has arrived, half of Ciming's reputation already lies smashed. Or should we smash the other half too?"
"What are you implying? Are you threatening me? Using Zhou Yingshu to threaten me?" Qiu Yishan's anger flared even higher, but meeting Yu Nianbing's somewhat chilly gaze made her heart thump. The words she had been about to bark somehow failed to leave her mouth.
Yu Nianbing lowered her head, poked at a soft, plump soup dumpling with her chopsticks, and shook her head. "Not at all. After all, Dr. Zhou used to be a doctor I trusted deeply, once. I just wanted Sister Qiu to know: now that the person is safely at Ciming, with no one else catching wind of it, then in the future, there won't be either. And even if there were, there'd be no need for the company to settle this for me. After all..." Yu Nianbing raised her head and looked at Qiu Yishan again. "After all, my contract is about to expire."
Qiu Yishan's expression abruptly froze, not because of Yu Nianbing's gaze this time. She didn't even stop to ponder what "used to be a doctor I trusted deeply, once" meant; her mind landed entirely on the word "contract."
"Heh, how could that be. Aiyo, we've worked together so many years, even when the contract's up, we're going to renew. If you left, wouldn't Huihui cry herself sick?" Seeing Yu Nianbing about to speak again, Qiu Yishan hurriedly changed the subject. "Ai, I know you're angry at Zhou Yingshu for notifying me, and angry at me for my attitude just now. But I'm just anxious for you. Look, you're normally so cautious. How did you get so muddled this time? It was just a suicide next door, the wall happened to collapse; you call the police and that's it. The most you'd need to do is call her an ambulance, which would be beyond generous. But you had to keep it secret, throw your own people and resources into sending her to Ciming. You saved her, this time. But if you hadn't? Aren't you just stirring a hornet's nest for yourself?"
Yu Nianbing could tell Qiu Yishan was changing the subject, but the contract matter wasn't something to be resolved just by talking with her anyway. Seeing Qiu Yishan's attitude soften, Yu Nianbing certainly didn't refuse to speak with her properly. The only pity was for this steamer of freshly ordered soup dumplings: she'd only eaten one, and they were probably doomed to go cold.
"I checked the StarNet. As long as she was saved, there shouldn't be a big problem. We're both in this industry: if the police were called, how could it be kept confidential? About her future..." Yu Nianbing didn't finish, and there was no need to.
Truthfully, Qiu Yishan knew all this. She just probably didn't care at all.
Just as expected, Yu Nianbing stopped at the point. Qiu Yishan understood perfectly, but still disapprovingly shook her head. "Even though you're both in the same industry, you and she are as different as clouds from mud. This is essentially putting a treasure jar to use as a mouse trap, it's too—"
"Sister Qiu." Yu Nianbing frowned, cutting her off. "That metaphor is completely inappropriate. Don't. You've seen the situation here. The person was saved, I won't be implicated, and it won't cause the company any trouble. If there's nothing else, you should head back. If you really want to help, just remind Dr. Zhou a little more; that alone would be a help."
The order to leave was practically stuck right to her face; Qiu Yishan could hardly fail to grasp the meaning. It suited her; she wanted to return to the company anyway, to ask what exactly was going on with Yu Nianbing's contract. Hadn't every past renewal gone smoothly? Why was trouble brewing this time without so much as a word to her, the agent...
Still, Qiu Yishan glanced again at the person on the hospital bed, who seemed as oblivious as ever. She shifted her feet slightly, hesitating. "How about you go back, and I'll stay here and watch? I heard your wall collapsed; shouldn't you go deal with it first, or shall I find someone to fix it for you?"
"No need. The doctor already taught me how to look after her. I'll stay until her agent arrives, then I'll leave." Yu Nianbing followed Qiu Yishan's gaze as she spoke, standing up. She picked up a small cup of water nearby, walked to the bedside, pulled a cotton swab from the cabinet, dipped it in the water, and rolled it over Song Shiyue's slightly dry lips.
"Then I could take care of her too." Qiu Yishan stepped toward Yu Nianbing, wanting to take the water cup from her hand.
Yu Nianbing evaded her slightly, shaking her head. "Forget it. You were never especially fond of her; no need to force yourself. I already sent a message to her agent; he'll be here very soon."
Qiu Yishan hadn't truly been eager to play caretaker; she just felt that she'd been a bit too harsh when she arrived, and wanted to make up for it. Then again, it wasn't her fault; who could have guessed Yu Nianbing was actually considering not renewing...
Now that her ingratiation had failed, Qiu Yishan smoothly withdrew her hand. Yet as she reached the door, she still couldn't resist asking one more thing: "You wouldn't be doing all this because she once confessed to you, would you? You know those people who confess, they only have one goal, and they're never sincere. Don't be taken in by her. And why would she commit suicide right next door to you, of all places? No, wait — how could someone doing sitcoms afford a house next to yours? Is she renting? How did she just happen to rent next door to you? Hold on — is there some conspiracy behind this?"
She'd only meant to warn Yu Nianbing, but the more Qiu Yishan talked, the more it all sounded wrong.
"You're overthinking it. Maybe it's just a coincidence." Yu Nianbing reached out a hand to block Qiu Yishan, who looked ready to come back in for a deeper analysis. "She's just a young woman who ran into some trouble and couldn't see her way through. Before this, she had nothing to do with me. Once her agent arrives, she'll have nothing to do with me in the future either."
Yu Nianbing's words clearly didn't put Qiu Yishan at ease, but it was just as obvious the other party didn't want to continue the conversation.
Qiu Yishan could only step out the door, thinking that once she got back, she really needed to have a good talk with the company.
"This is my own matter. Even if the company wants to handle it, I hope secrecy takes priority, and that no one comes to provoke a person who's just been saved." That was the last thing Yu Nianbing said to Qiu Yishan.
After that came the sound of Qiu Yishan leaving.
Inside the room, it abruptly fell quiet, with only the soft sound of Yu Nianbing moving around.
Song Shiyue still didn't dare open her eyes, though her heart was full of mixed feelings. The agent's guesses weren't entirely wrong. There was no conspiracy, but the original host living next door to Yu Nianbing was certainly no coincidence.
She just hadn't expected that when she'd smashed through the wall — before she'd had time to absorb the original host's memories — what came from the other side was no fairy, but Yu Nianbing, already a two-time Golden Planet Award winner at such a young age.
A shortcut... as long as you confessed to her, you were guaranteed to hit the trending searches...
A shortcut the original host had once used...
A shortcut the original host had wanted to use again, but hadn't managed to in time...
Ai, clearly not in love; why confess? Just to hit the trending searches? Just to get famous...
As Song Shiyue inwardly sighed over the workings of fate, a voice suddenly came by her ear: "Awake?"
The sound was soft, but it hit like a thunderclap, bursting open Song Shiyue's pretend-sleep eyes.
Eyes met; for a long time, neither spoke.
Looking at Song Shiyue, who was staring at her like a frightened fawn, Yu Nianbing held the congee bowl and sighed inwardly.
All I wanted was to eat a watermelon in peace at home — what exactly did I do wrong...
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