Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 31.2

In the past, Yin Yunzhu hated socializing. she would stay cooped up at home all day immersed in her imaginative creations, sometimes not stepping out for half a month. To use a cute metaphor, she was about to start growing mushrooms on her head.

Whether influenced by Jiang Menghe or not, she now felt an urgent need to expand her social circle—if only to shift her focus away from the other woman.

Lee: [Since you want to make a change, I’m with you all the way. Let’s go!]

Once the administrator approved their requests, Yin Yunzhu turned off her phone.

Within minutes, the sales assistant returned with several styles of bras for her to choose from. Picking out intimate apparel for someone else was a private matter, but it felt as if Jiang Menghe did this on purpose. Every time she came in a hurry, she never brought a change of clothes.

It made one wonder if she was being forgetful just so the other person would “see the object and think of the person.”

Entertaining such a thought felt narcissistic, but in a relationship as volatile and ethereal as theirs—one that had never truly been grounded—it was hard not to feel insecure.

She picked out a few items following her own aesthetic. At the checkout, Yin Yunzhu hesitated for a moment before secretly tucking in a few smaller bras in the same color scheme.

The class reunion was set for Sunday evening. When the day arrived, Yin Yunzhu took Bei Jiali’s car to the designated restaurant.

It was a well-known Northeast Chinese eatery in Quancheng. The faded, old furniture spoke of its long history, standing in stark contrast to the trendy “influencer” restaurants nearby. Having stood firm through years of change, its reputation was clearly solid.

After parking, a server led them to the second floor. The narrow walkway was supported by hollow iron railings that made a dull thudding sound with every step.

Xiao Guo, who had seen their messages, was already waiting at the door. Spotting the familiar figures, she immediately opened the door to the private room behind her.

A mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces were gathered around a large round table. Though the food hadn’t all arrived yet, the atmosphere was already lively.

“Jiali, you’re so much thinner than you were in high school!” a girl sitting near the door teased.

In their student days, Bei Jiali was bubbly and popular; everyone in class wanted to hang out with her. Compared to her, Yin Yunzhu had been a “nobody,” spending her days hunched over her desk buried in mountains of practice exams, possessing almost zero presence.

“How can you not lose weight when you’re working?” Bei Jiali pulled out a chair and sat next to Xiao Guo. “I’m like the walking dead every day now. My colleagues say there’s no difference between me and a corpse that hasn’t been buried yet.”

“Hey—it’s the New Year, don’t say such unlucky things! Drink a penalty glass right now, or no food for you!” A man with a buzz cut sitting opposite them raised his glass. He was the former arts representative.

“Spare me! I have to drink with my boss at work and with my classmates after work?”

“Exactly. Jiali is telling the truth, don’t be so petty.”

“She has to drive later, don’t get her in trouble.”

The two of them kept the mood light. Yin Yunzhu watched them interact silently, taking a small sip of her barley tea. It was always like this: whenever she was with Bei Jiali, people naturally gravitated toward the latter.

It was the class monitor, the organizer of the event, who was more observant. She took care of everyone’s tastes and made a point to talk to Yin Yunzhu.

“Xiao Yin, I heard you work from home and don’t get out much. You have to make sure you have a good time tonight.”

The monitor had changed the most over the years. The short hair she used to keep tucked behind her ears had grown out into a smooth, thick mane, giving her a more feminine air.

“I will,” Yin Yunzhu nodded, offering a shy smile.

Once all the dishes were served, everyone started eating. The meal was punctuated with laughter and reminiscence, seemingly different from the stereotypical scene of people showing off their successful lives.

After a few rounds of tea, people began asking about each other’s lives. Xiao Guo wiped her mouth with a napkin and turned to the arts representative. “By the way, I heard from the sports rep that you’re working at a media company. How’s the pay?”

Xiao Guo and the arts rep had been deskmates and were on good terms, but they had graduated so hurriedly that they lost touch without exchanging contact info.

“This industry definitely makes money, but I’m just a gopher. I mostly do floor management and help rent equipment,” the arts rep said, popping a peanut into his mouth and chewing.

“Then you must meet a lot of celebrities!” The monitor, her curiosity piqued, put down her chopsticks.

“You bet!” The arts rep nodded. “Did you see Jiang Menghe’s movie The Journey Home a few months back? Our company did the set design. My colleague in the next cubicle even got a signed photo of her.”

The man’s tone was boastful, as if he had already counted the celebrity as part of his personal network.

At the mention of the name “Jiang Menghe,” Yin Yunzhu, who was eating candied sweet potatoes, paused. She kept her face neutral, but her ears were already pricked up.

“I saw it!” Bei Jiali raised her hand, pulling Yin Yunzhu into the conversation. “I went with Yin Yunzhu. It was great!”

“I’m so jealous, actually seeing a star in person.”

“I’ll message you later. From now on, you’re my only connection to the entertainment industry.”

“Could you get me one next time? I really, really like her!”

The remark drew envious looks from everyone, and they momentarily forgot about their food.

“So, what is Jiang Menghe like in private? Is she as pretty as she is on TV?” Xiao Guo couldn’t help asking.

“Her personality isn’t much different from the persona they market,” the arts rep said conspiratorially. “She’s even more beautiful than on TV, but you know how this industry is—it’s a mixed bag. Who knows how messy her private life is.”

Yin Yunzhu’s porcelain spoon accidentally clinked against her plate, making a sharp sound that was swallowed by the surrounding chatter.

She picked up a chicken wing and slowly peeled away the meat.

No one at the table was more qualified to say what kind of person Jiang Menghe was than her. But even though she knew the curve of Jiang’s hair on a pillow, the frantic rise and fall of her chest when Yin kissed her neck, and even the pressure of her knees against Yin’s skin, she couldn’t breathe a word.

In the eyes of outsiders, they belonged to two completely different worlds.

She didn’t even have the right to defend her, except for a tiny whisper: “That might not be true.”

Small as her voice was, Bei Jiali heard it. She leaned in and asked, “I thought you were over your obsession with Jiang Menghe recently? Are you in love again?”

Even knowing this “love” wasn’t the same as a fan’s, Yin Yunzhu flinched as if she had been burned. Her watery, round eyes were as timid as a small animal afraid of being discovered.

“No,” she replied, her voice trailing off as she swallowed. She returned to her role as a listener.

“Right, I heard Jiang Menghe went to Ping City to film a few days ago specifically for Ren Yu,” Xiao Guo interjected, pulling up a bookmarked gossip article and summarizing it.

Since the last time they trended, Jiang Menghe and Ren Yu had appeared frequently in the public eye. Ren Yu’s constant riding of trending topics, even if it cost her her reputation, meant she had succeeded in a way.

“When did that happen? How come I didn’t know?” Bei Jiali was instantly hooked by the gossip.

“Inside information. The studios definitely buy these stories to keep them from spreading,” the arts rep added, lending his words more credibility.

Yin Yunzhu drank her soup in silence, thinking to herself: A few days ago in Ping City, Jiang Menghe was clearly with me, and she even had a high fever.

Yet, even knowing the truth, her relationship was so illegitimate that no one would believe her even if she spoke.

Seeing the others engrossed in celebrity gossip, Yin Yunzhu pulled out her phone and messaged Jiang Menghe under the table.

Little Bamboo: [I’m at a class reunion.]

A reply came a few minutes later.

Ju He: [What are you eating?]

Jiang Menghe was always attentive and never a killjoy. She would listen patiently even to these trivial matters.

Compared to Bei Jiali’s confusing internet slang, Yin Yunzhu preferred Jiang Menghe’s company. Just staying by her side gave her a strange sense of peace.

Sometimes, she wished she were a cat at the woman’s feet. When she felt lonely, she could boldly grab onto Jiang’s trouser leg, stick up her tail, and ask for a hug.

Little Bamboo: [Northeast food. It’s delicious.]

Ju He: [Take me with you next time.]

“Next time” was a phrase that easily sparked hope. The irritation caused by the false rumors at the table faded slightly.

Little Bamboo: [My classmates are talking bad about you. They say you’re… ‘indiscreet.’]

The tone sounded very much like a child tattling, hoping for a reward. On the other end, Jiang Menghe had just returned from the studio and had booked a flight to return to Ping City tomorrow.

Inside the dim car, the only light came from the streetlamps pouring across the windshield. The temperature had warmed up since the Start of Spring; she rolled down the window by two inches, letting the night breeze—laced with the scent of cold snow—thread its way inside.

She curled her lips into a smile. While parking in the underground garage, she thought about how to reply without making Yin Yunzhu lose interest in the conversation.

Ju He: [They’re right. If I were discreet, I wouldn’t be messing around with you.]

Receiving this, Yin Yunzhu felt a surge of silent annoyance. She always felt the two of them were different from other “bed partners.” At the very least, they were clean and exclusive.

The “good girl” in everyone’s eyes since childhood had secretly become an object of “indiscretion.” It was like an illicit affair that broke every boundary, a dark tide surging beneath the noise.

Though she was ashamed to admit it, Yin Yunzhu had fallen in love with the thrill and taboo of this relationship—the choice she made from her heart after breaking through the cages of her past.

While the two were busy chatting, the topic at the table had shifted from Jiang Menghe’s romantic scandals to her friction with her former talent agency.

The arts rep was getting drunk, deep red flushing his face, and his tongue was becoming clumsy. “I’ll tell you something else you don’t know… about Jiang Menghe before she debuted.”

After signing a contract, a talent agency usually investigates an artist’s past “flaws” thoroughly, handling the PR and contacting people to delete information. Jiang Menghe was no exception. Consequently, very few people knew about her past.

“Jiang Menghe used to be poor. She entered the industry to pay off her father’s debts…” The man gestured grandly, his drunkenness blurring his words.

Yin Yunzhu didn’t believe a word of it. Every “insider tip” she had heard about Jiang Menghe so far had turned out to be a false rumor.

Furthermore, Jiang Menghe’s gentle temperament and manners were etched into her bones. She didn’t believe a woman could possess such refined grace if she had grown up in such a harsh environment. The gap between her and others her age was far too wide.

She dismissed it as a drunkard’s rambling.

The snow on the streets had been trampled into slush, gathering in the uneven asphalt to form small puddles.

The parking lot was a distance from the residential area. The woman walked up the slope, her tall, slender figure stretched long by the lights.

The exit on the other side was temporarily closed due to construction. Left with no choice, she took a long detour home.

The messages were still stuck on her last reply. Jiang Menghe wiped away the condensation from her breath on the screen; the chat box refreshed.

Little Bamboo: [Then I’m just as ‘indiscreet’ as you are.]

Little Bamboo: [[Angry Emoji]]

The copycat-like response made her chuckle. Her eyelashes fluttered, slightly damp from the wind.

As she neared her home, the scanner at the side gate emitted a faint blue light, illuminating a hunched figure squatting by a tree. Jiang Menghe looked up.

The man’s gray jacket was washed out to a pale shade, and his sideburns were graying with age. He was currently smoking a cheap cigarette, the crimson glow of the ember dotting the night.

Their eyes met, and he stood up.

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