After Being Marked by the Top Celebrity Childhood Friend [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 7

Unemployment

“Lu Ling, is it? I’m Song He, the head of the Film and Television Department. Take a taxi to the Chengguan Police Station right now. Wear a mask and a hat, and bring them to Lin Que…”

“She’s currently here cooperating with an investigation. Haven’t you seen the trending searches? One moment the ‘yin-yang contracts’ (shadow contracts) were exposed, and the next, that man surnamed Gu went missing. His assistant went to pick him up the next day and found the floor-to-ceiling windows completely shattered—it’s the twenty-second floor; we should be thanking Buddha no pedestrians were hurt. Everyone at that dinner has to cooperate with the investigation… who knows what nonsense the media will spout… Jia Jia?”

“Girl, I’m already busy enough. Stop mentioning useless people.”

Lu Ling hung up the phone. Her mind was a chaotic mess, occupied by a single thought: Is Lin Que okay?

Would she be exposed as a vampire?

Was she in danger?

There wasn’t a massive swarm of reporters at the entrance of the police station; it seemed the news of Lin Que cooperating with the investigation hadn’t leaked out yet.

Lu Ling practically stumbled inside. Before she could steady herself, a pair of arms smelling of citrus caught her firmly.

She looked up, her eyes blinking at Lin Que as if she didn’t recognize her.

Lin Que froze for a moment, scanning her from head to toe. After confirming there were no physical injuries, the moment she released her grip, it was as if a switch had been flipped in Lu Ling. She suddenly grabbed Lin Que’s wrist back.

“You…”

“I’m fine,” Lin Que said in a reassuring tone, looking at her.

Lu Ling stared at her, her eyes trembling slightly. Finally, she slowly let go and took a step back, standing beside her with her head bowed.

Just as Lin Que was about to say something, a police officer’s voice came from behind: “Why are you still here?”

Lin Que looked at the officer, but before she could speak, Lu Ling beat her to it: “Officer, she has nothing to do with this matter, right?”

“We still need to conduct further investigation into the specific details.”

“Then—”

The officer didn’t give Lu Ling another chance to ask questions. She turned to Lin Que with a kind smile: “You’ve had a hard morning. If there are any further developments, we will contact you. The progress of the case will also be synchronized on our platform. Don’t worry, an innocent person has nothing to fear.”

Lu Ling lowered her head again.

—An innocent person has nothing to fear.

“Tch.”

“Hmm?”

The police officer and Lin Que both looked at her simultaneously.

Lu Ling looked up, then lowered her head again, like a child throwing a silent tantrum.

Fortunately, neither of them had the energy to probe into her “truth.”

Lu Ling took out her phone to call a car. When entering the destination, she hesitated and looked at Lin Que: “Should I put in the hotel address?”

Lin Que looked up, a radiant smile on her face: “That place has likely been swarming with people since last night.”

“Huh?”

“Here.”

Lin Que handed her phone to Lu Ling.

Song He wasn’t a god; even if he were, there were things beyond his reach.

Last night, shortly after the shadow scripts hit the trending searches, a video of Lin Que entering a hotel suite was leaked.

#Lin Que Casting Couch had overtaken the shadow scripts on the trending list.

“How could they do this?”

As they stood together at the police station intersection, Lu Ling’s voice was very soft, but Lin Que heard her clearly.

She tilted her head toward her, pulled down her mask, and smiled faintly behind her sunglasses, shrugging indifferently: “The officer said it: an innocent person has nothing to fear.”

Lu Ling looked at her, words caught in her throat. The stifling feeling in her chest turned into an ambiguous “Mhm.”

—An innocent person has nothing to fear.

Lu Ling smiled self-deprecatingly. After she withdrew from the competition, those baseless rumors targeted at her were the very reason FEVER couldn’t hold on.

It only works if everyone knows the “person” is innocent.

People are always more willing to believe the fragments they have already settled on in their hearts.

The posts on the public forums were scrolling frantically—condemnations, sarcasm, and massive fan wars.

It couldn’t be cleared.

“Relax, it’s fine. It’s just a small thing.”

Lu Ling looked at Lin Que, who pointed to her temple: “It’ll be forgotten soon.”

“And then?” Lu Ling asked.

“And then,” Lin Que looked down at the tips of her shoes and said softly, “we just do what we have to do.”

At two in the afternoon, the sun hung high, and the sky was a washed-out blue.

Booking a new hotel was clearly unrealistic; every hotel would have paparazzi lying in wait. Lu Ling looked at Lin Que: “Then… back to my place?”

“Okay.”

“It’s a semi-basement.”

Lin Que smiled, tilting her head slightly, relaxed: “So what?”

The rental house was in a remote location, and the ride-share car could only drop them off at the neighborhood entrance.

The two walked one after the other. When they passed a certain building, Lu Ling suddenly stopped in her tracks.

There used to be a shop here, she thought.

Lu Ling frowned, her heart feeling heavy, as if a piece had been hollowed out.

Lin Que followed her gaze: “What’s wrong?”

Lu Ling shook her head, muttering to herself, “Maybe I remembered wrong. Let’s go—”

Before she finished, it was Lin Que who suddenly stopped.

“What is it?”

Lin Que clicked her tongue and put away her phone: “A piece of good news and a piece of bad news. Which one do you want to hear?”

Lu Ling said warily, “The good news?”

“The good news is, we get a vacation,” Lin Que said brightly.

Lu Ling’s right eyelid twitched. She asked, “And the bad news?”

“An indefinite unpaid long-term leave.”

“…”

If Lu Ling had been a veteran in the workforce for years, both might have counted as good news, but she wasn’t.

Yesterday was her first day on the job.

She was momentarily dazed. Lin Que turned around, her expression relaxed: “My current situation… is this what they call a ‘soft ban’?”

Lu Ling froze.

She stood there, motionless, staring at Lin Que.

The smile on Lin Que’s face went from relaxed to stiff, and finally disappeared completely.

“Youyou?” she tested, calling Lu Ling’s nickname.

—Ding.

It was as if a doorbell had been pressed on a long-closed door. Lu Ling snapped back to reality and opened the door; outside, it wasn’t spring, nor was there winter snow.

The sunlight appeared only for a fleeting moment, and before it could even touch the hem of her clothes, it hid behind the dark clouds again.

Tears.

Like pearls.

Lin Que was completely stunned.

Her hand rose and fell; her lips parted and closed, but for a long while, no sound came out.

Lu Ling just stared straight at her. Lin Que was a blur in her vision; the paper-thin figure sometimes looked like a “ball,” and sometimes like a “pole.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sister Jia Jia taking you to that dinner, Gu Ming, and what just happened—why didn’t you tell me any of it? If you told me, maybe I could have stopped it. We… I… wouldn’t have to be like this.”

Lu Ling’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for Lin Que to hear the grievance in it. “Do you also think that telling me is useless?”

“No—”

Before Lin Que could finish her denial, Lu Ling wiped her tears and finally saw her face clearly: “I only just became your assistant, but we aren’t people who just met for the first day, Lin Que.”

All the explanations Lin Que had prepared vanished at that moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Lin Que lowered her head, leaning down slightly so her eyes were level with Lu Ling’s, solemn and gentle: “Lu Ling, I’m sorry.”

Lu Ling took a deep breath to stabilize her emotions. Her eyes were red, yet she remained determined to look at Lin Que.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you; I just trusted myself too much,” Lin Que said, looking down. “I was gambling that Jia Jia wouldn’t do that. I didn’t expect to lose.”

“Small gambles bring bad luck, big gambles are a crime,” Lu Ling looked away, grumbling a complaint: “You’re unemployed now.”

Lin Que glanced at her and kindly reminded her: “You are too.”

“…Should I thank you then? Whose fault is this…”

“What am I going to do about my rent?” Lu Ling sighed deeply and opened the door to the room.

Lin Que thought of something, turned around, and asked, “Didn’t you just arrive in Chenghua? Didn’t your mom give you some startup funds?”

“What do you mean ‘just arrived’? I’ve been here for three or four months—”

Realizing what she was saying, Lu Ling suddenly covered her mouth, but her eyes were already darting around.

Lin Que looked at her, her tone flat: “Your mom told me three months ago that you would be coming to Chenghua around this time. She probably guessed you’d stubbornly insist on suffering just to save face.”

Lu Ling lowered her hand and gave a bitter smile, pretending to be relaxed: “A mother knows her daughter best.”

Lin Que looked at her and ultimately said nothing more. Her gaze swept over the suitcase in the corner, and she remarked casually, “You’ve been here for three or four months and this is all the stuff you have?”

“I’m living life with a tightened belt,” Lu Ling said, resigned to her situation.

Lin Que glanced at her and took out her phone—

—Ding.

Lu Ling took out her phone. The moment she saw the transfer notification, she was stunned: “Lin Que—”

Lin Que lay back on the bed. Hearing the voice, she raised a single finger to signal her not to speak.

The words at the tip of Lu Ling’s tongue got stuck.

Lin Que hadn’t transferred a lot—exactly three thousand yuan.

If it were thirty thousand, or even three hundred thousand, Lu Ling wouldn’t have a psychological burden; she would have just sent it back. But three thousand—that was the exact amount of a normal salary for an intern.

If this money had come through the company account to her card, it would be fine, but it came from Lin Que’s personal account.

So,

—Are you pitying me?

If she had known, she wouldn’t have said those unnecessary things.

“Don’t overthink it.”

Lu Ling looked up. Lin Que sat up, rubbing her eyes: “I don’t know how long I’ll be ‘squatting’ here with you. I can’t exactly eat and drink for free, can I?”

“We’ll settle the bill later, okay?”

Silence.

Lin Que paused and looked at Lu Ling. The moment their eyes met, Lu Ling finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and let out a light laugh.

“Fine,” Lu Ling walked over to her. Remembering something, she said, “I guarantee you’ll get the freshest oranges these few days!”

Lin Que looked at Lu Ling, whose eyes were also shining brightly.

The sunlight was a translucent orange-yellow, and Lu Ling’s sparkling eyes shifted into a beautiful light color.

Like an elf.

The first time she met her, Lu Ling seemed to be such a vibrant person.

Four years old? Or five.

She couldn’t remember clearly.

Regardless, she was a “New Year’s painting child” (a cute, chubby traditional child figure) that was impossible to dislike.

“Ah—”

Lu Ling also lay down. She glanced at Lin Que and couldn’t help but sigh: “Will you be blacklisted forever?”

Lin Que gave her a side-eye: “So worried about being unemployed? You really haven’t worked before.”

Ignoring the teasing, Lu Ling rolled over to face Lin Que: “Mainly, it’s because none of those things actually happened, right?”

You did nothing wrong, you were even the victim—why should it result in a soft ban?

Lin Que shouldn’t end up like her.

If Lin Que fell into the same situation she was in, what else could she believe in?

“Youyou,”

Lu Ling snapped back: “Hmm?”

“I’m so hungry.”

“Ah,”

Lu Ling blinked and pursed her lips.

Lin Que thought she was deciding what to eat and was about to list a menu, but Lu Ling sat up with an air of resolution.

“Then,” Lu Ling took off her jacket and tilted her head, exposing her neck to Lin Que’s eyes, “want a drink?”