Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 28.1

Jiang Menghe didn’t stay at the hotel for long. During the illness, she was considerate of Yin Yunzhu’s condition and didn’t push boundaries, just kisses and hugs at most.

In this regard, Yin Yunzhu exercised far more restraint than her.

After Jiang left, Yin began searching online for travel guides to Pingcheng. The cursor blinked on her laptop screen, next to the takeout leftovers from lunch. She tied the trash bag tightly and placed it by the door.

In recent days, the local tourism bureau had heavily promoted visits to the snow-covered frost-covered trees in the suburbs, claiming it was a must-see. After sifting through countless dazzling recommendations, Yin Yunzhu finally made up her mind.

She took out the newly bought camera from her suitcase and carefully hung it around her neck. Once fully equipped, she hailed a taxi at the hotel lobby and headed to Pingdan Mountain.

Before leaving, she hesitated about whether to inform Jiang Menghe. But considering their ambiguous relationship, she dismissed the thought.

Jiang occupied an awkward place in her heart more than a friend but not quite a lover. Excessive eagerness to share might not be a good thing.

Yet Jiang messaged first.

OrangeHe: [Are you still at the hotel?]

LittleBamboo: [No, I’m out.]

The reply revealed little. Sitting in the shade, Jiang frowned at the brief response. Her thumb hovered before deleting the words “Where?” from the text box.

OrangeHe: [Want to visit the film studio?]

Meanwhile, Yin Yunzhu had just paid the taxi fare. As the New Year approached, temperatures plummeted. Melted snow refroze into transparent icicles under the eaves, contrasting with the frost-laden streets.

Exhaling white mist, she tightened her coat, pulled on a knit hat and scarf, bundling up until she resembled a clumsy penguin from afar.

LittleBamboo: [Nah, too many celebrities at the studio. Wouldn’t want to bump into anyone we know.]

She assumed Jiang hadn’t thought it through, the trending topic incident hadn’t faded from public memory. Visiting the studio now and meeting openly would be reckless.

Yin rarely refused trivial requests. To soften the tone of her text, she added a playful tilde.

The “typing” indicator lingered for a long time.

OrangeHe: [We don’t have to meet.]

OrangeHe: [Up to you. Have fun.]

The words carried a hint of pique. Without understanding Jiang’s temperament, one might mistake it for anger over the declined meetup. Yin didn’t flatter herself, she figured Jiang was simply too busy for idle chat.

Standing at the mountain’s base while replying had turned her knuckles red with cold. She pocketed her phone and trudged up the steps, careful of the slippery ice.

Pingdan Mountain was an open scenic area, requiring tickets only for the surrounding temples. The path was otherwise unobstructed. Gnarled trees lined the stone steps, their branches bowed under snow, dangling white and brown clusters.

It felt like stumbling into a fairy tale.

Yin kept her gaze lowered, wary of the slick ice. Learning from past mistakes, she cradled the camera protectively. Pingdan Mountain wasn’t particularly high just a broad hillock. Many visitors came before the holidays, most with families in tow.

At the summit stood a stone tablet three times a person’s height. From beside it, Yin could overlook the distant film studio, its red walls swallowed by the snowy expanse.

Just as she was about to adjust her equipment to take photos, someone called out to her from behind.

“Excuse me, young lady, could you do me a favor?”

Turning toward the voice, she saw an older woman. The woman smiled faintly, deep nasolabial folds appearing as the edges of her sunglasses refracted colorful light.

Perhaps Yin Yunzhu seemed approachable and friendly she had been stopped by strangers asking for help many times since childhood. Well-practiced in handling such situations, she didn’t refuse.

“Hello, how can I help you?” She tucked her camera back into her bag.

“Could you take a photo of me with this stone tablet in the background?” the woman gestured. “Would that be alright?”

Yin Yunzhu took the camera, it was the same brand and model as hers. Yet despite reading so many manuals, she still only knew how to press the shutter and adjust basic settings.

Seeing the woman already standing in front of the tablet, she steeled herself, found the right angle, counted down a few seconds, and snapped several shots in succession.

“Let me see.” The woman took the camera and flipped through the photos one by one.

“Sorry, I’m not very good at photography,” Yin Yunzhu said nervously. “If you’re not satisfied, I can take them again.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” The woman smiled lightly and removed her sunglasses.

Fine wrinkles framed her weathered eyes, and a touch of frost-white tinged her temples. Just from her appearance, one could tell she was well-off and at peace with life.

Yin Yunzhu felt like she had seen her somewhere before, but no matter how hard she tried to recall, she couldn’t grasp that sense of familiarity.

“Did you come here alone? Why not with friends?” While Yin Yunzhu was lost in thought, the woman had already put away the camera and pulled on a pair of gloves from her bag.

As an introvert, Yin Yunzhu felt flustered by the sudden conversation. She racked her brain for a witty, high-EQ response but only managed to blurt out,

“I’m from Quancheng. I came here to travel, didn’t bring any friends along.”

For a brief moment, Jiang Menghe’s face flashed before her eyes.

The words felt insincere, but thankfully, the woman didn’t press for details. Instead, she exclaimed in surprise, “You’re from Quancheng? What a coincidence to meet a fellow townsfolk all the way out here.”

“I’m from Quancheng too. Just taking a break during the holidays, looking for inspiration.” The woman sighed, gazing into the distance.

Catching the keyword, Yin Yunzhu’s stalled social skills kicked in: “Inspiration? May I ask what you do for work?”

Running into a fellow townsman in a foreign place and someone vaguely in the same field would make anyone marvel at the coincidence. She was no exception, and for once, her social anxiety didn’t flare up.

The woman chuckled but didn’t elaborate. “I’m like most people who come from Pingcheng, I work in media.”

Seeing Yin Yunzhu lost in thought, she couldn’t resist asking, “What about you? Being able to travel instead of working overtime at the company before the New Year your job must be pretty flexible?”

Standing for so long had left her legs stiff from the cold. Nearby, a pavilion stood at the edge of the cliff, so the two walked over to rest. The stone bench was icy and smooth, with a few decaying leaves wedged in the cracks.

“I’m more of a freelancer. I usually write articles for websites.” Yin Yunzhu set her bag down beside her.

“Write for websites?” The woman raised an eyebrow, studying her with sudden interest.

Still, they had just met, so she knew better than to pry too much. After chatting for a while, the woman got ready to leave. Before she did, she handed Yin Yunzhu a small card.

“Meeting you must be fate. Here’s my business card feel free to reach out if you ever need anything.”

The smooth paper still carried warmth from being pressed into a pocket. Yin Yunzhu accepted it with thanks, then felt embarrassed about not having prepared contact information while traveling.

When the retreating figure disappeared beyond the stone steps, she flipped the business card over to look.

He Ping.

A memory flared back to life. Ever since the woman had introduced herself as a media professional, Yin Yunzhu had vaguely suspected something now it was confirmed.

He Ping, a renowned film producer and director nowadays, first gained public attention years ago with his mainland film series Flying Petals. After a period of studying abroad under famous foreign directors, he had returned just a few years prior.

Rumors suggested he was preparing a new project, though nothing concrete had surfaced yet.

To think she’d run into a famous director here, she couldn’t help but marvel at how small the world was.

For the next few hours, she wandered around Pingdan Mountain. With inflated prices and crowds around the scenic area, she eventually found a small restaurant to settle in, hastily finishing lunch and dinner before returning to the hotel, utterly exhausted.

The lobby chandelier cast a glow over the rose-gold revolving doors, exuding understated luxury. As Yin Yunzhu ascended the steps, a familiar figure emerged from a car parked nearby.

Jiang Menghe seemed to have rushed over straight after wrapping up filming. Flecks of unremoved glitter lingered at the corners of her eyes, her hair tousled by the wind.

“What are you doing here?” Startled by her sudden appearance, Yin Yunzhu quickly glanced around.

Fortunately, night had fallen, and aside from a few scattered guests checking in, no one paid them any attention.

“It’s not like we’re sneaking around, why can’t I come openly?” Jiang Menghe hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her inside with playful sarcasm. Clearly, the lesson from their last Weibo scandal hadn’t stuck.

She had been desperate to see Yin Yunzhu, especially after learning her stay in Pingcheng would be brief. After negotiating with the director to move up her scenes, she had hurried over as soon as filming ended.

The ends of her hair carried a faint chill, half her face shadowed in the dim light only her almond-shaped eyes reflected Yin Yunzhu’s image.

“Hurry up, don’t let anyone see us.” They fumbled with the keycard on their way upstairs, and only when the elevator doors closed behind them did Yin Yunzhu exhale in relief.

The hallway lights were muted, spilling onto the wine-red soundproof carpet. Once out of sight, Jiang Menghe grew bolder, slipping a hand into her coat pocket.

Yin Yunzhu’s eyes widened.

“Warm me up. The car’s heater was off, I waited forever.”

There was an unmistakable whine in her voice as Jiang Menghe kneaded her fingers, pressing and stroking them like playing a flute.

She always had a peculiar way of flirting.

Yin Yunzhu freed her other hand to swipe the keycard. At the beep, she ushered Jiang Menghe inside.

Soft light and night spilled into the room, which housekeeping had tidied to near sterility. Moving to the coat rack, she shrugged off her jacket, only for Jiang Menghe’s hovering hands to catch it.

“What’s this?” Just as she was about to hang it up, Jiang Menghe felt the small, stiff rectangle in the pocket.

“Hm?” Yin Yunzhu, halfway through changing while leaning against the wall, turned to look.

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