Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 32

The Spring Festival drew to a close amidst the crackle of fireworks and falling sparks. The sleeping streets of Quancheng began to wake, and the city’s warmth thawed along with the melting snow.

With courier stations back in operation, Yin Yunzhu organized the covers of her recently published books and contacted a courier for pickup. Tens of thousands of thin, glossy sheets of paper were sealed away with adhesive tape, marking the end of her recent busy spell.

Not long ago, He Ping had sent her a message. The gist was that the production team had reviewed her manuscript and the content was fine, but to pass censorship, many segments required significant revisions. Rewriting while maintaining the desired effect would be exhausting for Yin Yunzhu to handle alone, especially without an editor to guide her. Moreover, the parts flagged were all main plot points; stripping them and refilling the gaps would be time-consuming and might not yield satisfying results. Yin Yunzhu replied that she would consider it and give an answer in a few days.

When the doorbell rang, she assumed it was the courier and moved two cardboard boxes to the door. Upon opening it, she found a man holding a document envelope.

“Miss Yin?” the courier asked, reading the note.

“That’s me.” Yin Yunzhu set the boxes down, signed quickly, and claimed the package.

She had almost no friends outside the city. Bei Jiali and Shan Songyue were both in Quancheng, a mere thirty-minute drive away—there was no reason to mail anything. Who could it be?

The sender’s name was unrecognizable. She sliced open the envelope with a small knife, and two light slips of paper fell out. One was an audience ticket for Star of Tomorrow, and the other was a plane ticket to Huang City. Along with these were limited-edition vanity items from the variety show.

She immediately thought of Jiang Menghe. Holding the tickets against the light, she snapped a photo and sent it.

Little Bamboo: [[Image]] Little Bamboo: [Got the tickets. See you on the afternoon of February 17th!]

After hitting send, she instinctively scrolled up, only to realize that Jiang Menghe hadn’t replied since the class reunion yesterday. Even the “arrived home safely” check-in had gone unanswered.

Though their relationship wasn’t supposed to be deep—their emotions were like two parallel lines that should never cross—as their meetings grew more frequent, the boundaries had blurred. They had settled into a rhythm that felt like a couple’s, yet it remained unspoken.

In moments of intimacy, Yin Yunzhu would often press her weight against Jiang, her fingers tracing the other woman’s tongue as she repeatedly asked who she was, searching for a lucid answer amidst the drowning passion.

Jiang Menghe would squint her eyes comfortably, the light filtering through the curtains and into her apricot eyes, dispelling the shadows within. They would face each other with complete honesty as Jiang stroked the top of Yin’s head, her touch moving from the corners of her eyes to her cheeks.

“You are Yin Yunzhu.”

Yin Yunzhu was easily satisfied, sinking into a new wave of emotion like a child who had gotten her way. She especially loved biting the back of Jiang’s neck; though the skin there was smooth, she delighted in grinding her teeth against it to leave temporary marks, only to soothe and lick them afterward.

She had to admit, being neglected felt disappointing—as if a piece of her chest had gone hollow.

Restraining her urge to call, Yin Yunzhu reminded herself that Jiang Menghe was currently filming in Ping City. She shouldn’t be intrusive or cause trouble. This restlessness lasted until bedtime. When she lay in bed and still hadn’t received a reply to her message, she finally dialed a video call.

The ringtone chimed for a long time before it was picked up. Jiang Menghe’s profile picture appeared on the screen, but her camera was off. Yin Yunzhu’s face was in the top right corner; she had just showered, her cheeks flushed red from the steam and her round eyes moist.

“Is something wrong?” The voice on the other end was weary and numb, like someone who had been curled in a corner too long.

The tone was so cold it felt like an interrogation. This made the proactive Yin Yunzhu feel awkward; she rubbed her nose. “Can’t I look for you if nothing is wrong?”

After a long silence, she spoke again. “I received the tickets this morning. The limited-edition souvenirs are beautiful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Jiang Menghe said flatly. She seemed to have lain down, as the speaker picked up the rustle of friction.

She had killed the conversation. Given Yin Yunzhu’s dull and introverted nature, the possibility of her starting a new topic was nearly zero. Usually, Jiang would never let her words fall flat like this.

Sensing something was off, Yin Yunzhu tested the waters. “Turn on your camera. I want to see you.”

A light laugh broke the stagnant air. Jiang Menghe let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Are you acting spoiled?”

“I just want to see you. It’s been a long time.”

“You really want to see me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Under her repeated pleading, the woman complied and turned on the camera. Steam billowed in the bathtub, creating a thin white mist over the lens. Jiang’s features stood up to the scrutiny, nearly flawless. She leaned against the edge of the tub, water droplets lingering on her bare shoulders. The vivid red mole on her left breast looked enchanting and immediately drew the eye.

The water surface was covered in white foam. Realizing Jiang Menghe was actually taking a bath, Yin Yunzhu’s ears instantly turned red, the heat spreading to her cheeks. She hadn’t heard any splashing earlier…

Seeing her stunned into silence, Jiang Menghe felt a rare urge to tease. She tilted her head and smiled. “You’ve thought about me for so long. Have you seen enough?”

“If you had told me you were bathing, I wouldn’t have called now.”

She had worried something was wrong, only to realize she had been lured into a trap. Her heart settled, but she felt a surge of embarrassed annoyance.

“Then I won’t wash anymore,” the woman said, being unexpectedly obedient. Her slender arm grabbed a nearby towel, and she suddenly stood up as the water splashed.

Catching a glimpse of the water running down her skin, Yin Yunzhu quickly flipped her phone face down, stammering incoherently. “Don’t take a bath during a video call!”

She had read plenty of gossip articles about software taking screenshots or extracting keywords during calls. In her eyes, Jiang’s move was a complete disregard for her own privacy.

Jiang Menghe, whose intent had only been a feint, paused and sat back down slowly, feigning distress. “You’re the one who told me not to bathe, and you’re the one who won’t let me get up. Yin Yunzhu, you’re so difficult.”

Yin Yunzhu, who had been labeled a “good person” since childhood, never expected to one day be called “difficult.”

“Are you easy to deal with?” The words slipped out without thinking, taking on a different flavor in this specific context.

“We haven’t even met to sleep together yet, so why are you talking nonsense?” Jiang Menghe teased, completely ignoring the fact that she had started it. “However—” she changed her tone, her eyes filled with indulgence, “if it’s for you, then I am very ‘easy to deal with’.”

Without waiting for Yin Yunzhu to respond, she hung up.

Ju He: [Putting on clothes. I’ll call back in a bit.]

With those words echoing in her ears, Yin Yunzhu shrank into her covers, holding her burning cheeks. Bed partners were bound to say things that crossed the line, making the relationship feel less than sincere—she and Jiang were no exception.

The steam hung thick against the tiled walls. Jiang Menghe turned off the screen and submerged herself completely in the water-filled tub. Her long hair swayed as the water snatched the thin oxygen from her lungs; her nose began to sting from the foam.

As the feeling of suffocation reached its limit, she grabbed the edge of the tub and burst out. Water droplets slid slowly down her long lashes. She walked barefoot to the mirror and wiped away the mist, revealing a pair of eyes devoid of warmth.

While Jiang Menghe was out of the bath, Yin Yunzhu lay bored in bed, checking her chat logs. She was still thinking about whether to agree to He Ping’s proposal. Although having her work adapted into a film or TV series was every writer’s dream, she was afraid of the trouble. She feared the hard work of revising would end up being scrapped, or that her original readers would be dissatisfied.

A call invitation popped up. She clicked to answer.

“Is something wrong?” Yin Yunzhu mimicked Jiang’s tone, giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Jiang Menghe laughed as she capped her lotion bottle. “Can’t I look for you if nothing is wrong?”

The ice was broken. Realizing Jiang was back to normal, Yin Yunzhu assumed she had just been exhausted from work and dismissed her far-fetched suspicions.

“What are you doing?” Jiang asked when she didn’t speak.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Yin Yunzhu said, her legs crossing in the air. “He Ping gave me her business card before. A few days ago, I sent her my work—the one that was just published.”

“Sounds good,” Jiang said, patting her face to let the lotion absorb. “What was the result?”

“She said it’s okay, but it needs a major overhaul.”

“So why are you hesitating?”

Yin Yunzhu sighed. “I’m afraid of letting down my readers.” After all, in the eyes of devoted fans, characters in a book are no different from friends.

After tidying up the bottles on the sink, Jiang Menghe turned off the light and climbed into bed. “I remember He Ping has a screenwriter friend she’s close with. That screenwriter has a good reputation, and since your theme is sensitive, a major overhaul is the only way to pass the line.”

Yin Yunzhu agreed. Adaptations were rare opportunities; if she missed this chance, she might never get another. In the gap of her thoughts, she heard even breathing from the other end. Jiang Menghe really did seem exhausted; she had been humming her responses for a while.

“Jiang Menghe?” Yin Yunzhu whispered. “Are you sleepy?”

“Aren’t you?” the woman murmured.

“I am.”

Hearing this, Jiang Menghe held her phone against her chest, right where her heart was. “Then go to sleep.”

This was their first time staying on a call while sleeping. Like students in a new relationship, they couldn’t get enough of the small interactions. Yin Yunzhu stared at the timer on the screen, listening to the faint sound of breathing.

She loved secretly watching Jiang’s face after they were together. At those times, the other woman would be in a deep, defenseless sleep. The face that seemed unreachable to others was right there; Yin would even reach out and pinch her cheek. If Jiang didn’t wake up, she would just furrow her brows and mumble. If she did, she would half-open her misty eyes and grab Yin’s fingers.

“Don’t be naughty.”

Yin Yunzhu was never naughty; she was very good and very obedient. She did whatever Jiang Menghe told her to do, and she did it well. She would press her cheek against the woman’s palm, too shy to meet her gaze. In their shifted perspectives, she would focus on that small red mole while the woman looked down at the top of her head with a superior air.

Their last meeting was at the end of January. Feeling a sense of longing, Yin Yunzhu couldn’t help but speak. “Jiang Menghe.”

On the other end, Jiang Menghe heard the sound but didn’t want to open her eyes, instinctively reaching out to pull the person beside her close. Only when the corner of her phone pressed against her temple did she remember they were in different cities. She woke up slightly, brushing her hair aside, feeling uncomfortable with that instinctive reaction.

On the other side, Yin Yunzhu wasn’t disappointed by the lack of response. She wrapped herself up like a silkworm, leaving only her head exposed, and whispered a spoiled goodnight.

Huang City wasn’t as prosperous as Quancheng, nor did it have the scenic wonders of Ping City; it was known as a “culinary desert.”

The recording for Star of Tomorrow was next to the TV station in the city center. Yin Yunzhu passed the ticket check with her ID and followed the crowd into the venue. With the spotlights off, the stage was dominated by intersecting overhead beams. Jiang Menghe had booked her a seat in the second row—perfect for seeing the whole stage without being caught too easily by the cameras.

The set wasn’t fully finished yet, and people were already milling about in the aisles. She messaged Jiang, but there was no reply; she was likely in the dressing room. Yin Yunzhu wanted to find her but knew that in such a crowded place, it would cause trouble for both of them. Unless the artist appeared personally, the areas where they stayed were heavily guarded.

Staff even requested that phones be put on silent. Since there was time before the show started, Yin Yunzhu got up to find the restroom. The TV station consisted of two buildings connected by a skywalk, and without a map, she quickly got lost.

Standing before a directory in the lobby, she decided to ask for directions. There were too many people, so she stayed in place to prepare herself mentally before finally catching a woman in a wide-brimmed black hat.

“Excuse me…” Her voice got smaller and smaller until the rest of the words were swallowed.

The woman pulled down her mask, revealing a glamorous, striking face. Her long, upturned eyes scanned Yin up and down as she sneered. “The one from the cabin yesterday?”

Yin Yunzhu was bewildered. “What cabin?” She had only arrived at the Huang City airport this morning and had rushed here by taxi after a quick meal.

Thinking that the woman must have mistaken her for someone else, Yin Yunzhu waved her hands frantically. “You have the wrong person! I’m not… I just came to ask—”

Yin Yunzhu was never good at defending herself; if anything, her explanation only made things worse. Her incoherence and panic, in the other woman’s eyes, became evidence of a guilty conscience.

The woman turned, seemingly looking for someone, and then issued a warning in a chilling tone.

“Miss, regardless of why you are following me, you are causing serious distress,” she paused, her eyes flashing with coldness. “If you continue to harass me, I will contact my lawyer immediately.”

Each word felt like a hammer blow to Yin Yunzhu’s heart, making her rare moment of being proactive crumble into timidity. “I just wanted to ask where the restroom is. I didn’t mean anything else. Look, here’s my boarding pass.”

She pulled the crumpled boarding pass from her pocket, desperate to prove her innocence.

“I don’t have time to waste on you.” The woman didn’t even spare it a glance, turning away and walking off in her high heels.

Watching that elegant, arrogant departure, Yin Yunzhu’s face flushed with anger. Being slow-witted and terrible at arguing, she had no choice but to swallow this grievance. If I were a fan, I’d never like an artist who is so quick to judge, she thought bitterly.

Standing alone in the hallway, she watched groups of girls chatting and laughing as they entered the venue, while a sour sense of injustice bubbled up inside her. Jiang Menghe didn’t even think to send someone to meet me.

Feeling no sense of “backdoor privilege” at all, she opened her phone to find a new message.

Ju He: [Are you here? Should I have Sister Ye go down to meet you?]

The frustration in her chest, like a poked balloon, hissed out until it was just a flat, limp string. Now that the offer was actually there, Yin Yunzhu turned shy again.

Little Bamboo: [No need, you just focus on your preparation.] Little Bamboo: [I can manage on my own QAQ]

Meanwhile, in the dressing room.

Jiang Menghe sat before the vanity mirror, the soft ring light reflecting in her gentle eyes. Staring at the emoticon at the end of the message, she could almost imagine the other girl’s pitiful expression.

She couldn’t help but smile.

Seeing the stylist gathering her hair behind her, Jiang Menghe didn’t want to be too obvious, so she sent an eight-second voice note instead.

Ju He: “What happened? Who’s picking on you again?”

Her tone was as soft as a whisper against a lover’s shoulder. Even though they knew she was kind in private, the stylist couldn’t help but peek at the screen, curious about who was on the other end. Sister Ye gave a sharp look, signaling for the staff to mind their own business.

After hearing the gist of the story, Jiang Menghe turned to her manager. “Who are the guest stars for today’s show?”

Ye Xiyang pulled up the program flow sent by the production team.

“Chen Nan, Fang Xiuqing… and Jiang Shiyun.”

Jiang Menghe had heard the first two were decent singers and dancers, but the name that rang the loudest was the last one.

Jiang Shiyun. A second-tier starlet on par with Ren Yu. She had debuted through Star of Tomorrow years ago and was one of the more famous alumni of the show. Relying on the “pure and cold jade” persona her agency built for her, she was actually known in private for smoking and drinking; rumors even suggested she had a daughter with an alpha benefactor outside the industry.

Based on Yin Yunzhu’s description, the woman she ran into was likely her. Though Jiang Menghe had no personal history with the woman, she instinctively formed a poor impression of her because of this incident.

Little Bamboo: [I’ll stop for now. My phone is dying, I need to go rent a power bank.]

After sending that, Yin Yunzhu’s battery dropped to a dangerous 7%. She hadn’t charged it since boarding her flight, and her charger was back at the hotel.

Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hello! Were you looking for the restroom earlier?” The speaker was a girl with a neat bob cut who looked quite friendly, standing with a friend.

The friend wore a white baseball cap, obscuring her face, and was roughly the same build as Yin Yunzhu. Coincidentally, both were wearing pink hoodies of a similar shade.

“How did you know?” Yin Yunzhu was surprised.

“My friend and I overheard you. That person was so rude! What’s with that attitude? If you don’t want to give directions, fine, but don’t go accusing people of being stalkers.” The girl with the bob rolled her eyes, her earrings swaying with the movement.

Exactly.

Yin Yunzhu felt a sense of validation but kept it modest. “It’s fine, I won’t take it to heart.”

“We’re headed that way now, come with us.” The girl smiled, revealing two shallow dimples that felt very welcoming.

Yin Yunzhu was the type who needed someone else to take the lead. She gave a shy smile and thanked them repeatedly.

The TV station was a maze of venues and dressing rooms. She followed behind them like a little tail, occasionally glancing at the signs on the walls. Light spilled from the windows at the end of the corridor onto the polished tiles, and the wind whistled through the gaps; through the glass, the sky looked gray and overcast. As they walked, Yin Yunzhu began to feel that something was wrong.

They reached a wooden door painted off-white, the paint peeling away to reveal the raw wood beneath. It was hard to imagine such an old-style door existing in this glitzy, modern building.

Seeing the two stop at the door, Yin Yunzhu slowed down, creating some distance. There wasn’t even a restroom sign. Realizing she had been played, she turned to leave, but the girl in the pink hoodie grabbed her hair and shoved her through the door.

The sharp pain in her scalp forced Yin Yunzhu to follow the hand’s momentum. As she fell to the floor, the two girls blocked the doorway, looking down at her.

“Let’s see you try to pester Shiyun again. Sasaengs like you deserve to die.” “She clearly didn’t want anything to do with you, yet you kept pushing!” “Stay in here and reflect on what you’ve done.”

They traded barbs and slammed the door. The sound of the lock clicking shut made Yin Yunzhu’s heart sink.

A muffled conversation reached her ears: “Do you think anyone will come looking for her?” “Who cares? It’s not like she’ll be stuck forever, just long enough to teach her a lesson.” “It’s starting soon, let’s get in. The scalper tickets were so expensive, we can’t waste them…”

The voices grew distant and then vanished completely.

Yin Yunzhu pressed her palms against the cold floor. The room hadn’t been cleaned in ages; a thick layer of dust swirled into the air from the intrusion. Cursing her own bad luck, she stood up and dusted off her knees. The room was pitch black, with heavy square objects pinning the blue curtains shut. It seemed to be a storage room for old equipment.

Aware of her dying phone, she didn’t dare turn on the flashlight yet.

The simplest solution was to message Jiang Menghe and ask her to send someone. But the girls’ conversation reminded her that the show was starting—Jiang was likely already backstage or on stage. Yin Yunzhu didn’t want to be a constant burden, so she decided to wait and see if anyone passed by.

The door had no handle on the inside, an old-fashioned design. She pulled at the frame, and a thin sliver of light cut through the gloom.

“Is anyone there?” swallowing her pride, Yin Yunzhu knocked on the door.

The route here had been too complex; she hadn’t been paying attention to the turns. Now, she realized how isolated she was.

Fewer and fewer people would pass through here. Yin Yunzhu cursed her own lack of common sense and crouched by the door, scrolling through her contacts. Finally, losing her nerve, she clicked on the chat with Jiang Menghe.

Behind the stage, Jiang Menghe had just handed her phone to a staff member.

“If you see any talent with potential, see if we can sign them to our studio,” Ye Xiyang said, checking the contestant lineup. “A few of them have connections with the producers, so don’t be too sharp with your words.”

“When have I ever been ‘sharp’ on camera?” Jiang Menghe adjusted her sleeves and looked out at the dense crowd below the stage. The lights were blinding; she couldn’t even distinguish Yin Yunzhu’s face.

“I’m going,” she said to Ye Xiyang and walked toward the stage.

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