Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 33.2

Jiang Menghe instinctively looked toward the audience. They were packed tightly together; finding someone was too difficult. Even knowing the general location, she couldn’t see faces clearly.

She was curious about Yin Yunzhu’s reaction, yet she regretted that she couldn’t ask for her thoughts in person.

Snapping back to reality, the woman frowned slightly. The folds of her double eyelids thinned as she looked down, and points of light gathered in her almond eyes, making them appear clear and pure.

The host, mistakenly believing she was performing the demonstration, started clapping immediately. “As expected of a Best Actress! The emotional resonance is too strong!”

Jiang Menghe pursed her lips and decided to go along with it, nodding with a slight smile.

Having received personal guidance from her idol, the young girl was incoherent with joy. “Thank you, Teacher Jiang! I will go back and study this carefully.”

From just moments ago, Chen Nan’s attention had been fixed on Jiang Menghe. Now, he suddenly spoke up. “Teacher Jiang is impressive. Truly a veteran of the craft.”

“My seniority doesn’t quite qualify me as a veteran yet.” Because of Ren Yu, Jiang Menghe’s attitude toward Chen Nan wasn’t particularly warm.

“This soulful acting, it must have been practiced in reality to be this exquisite,” the man said, rubbing his chin with a double meaning.

“Having filmed so many scenes, I’ve surely received a lot of guidance from my seniors.”

“Not necessarily, right?” Chen Nan leaned forward, looking past the two people between them to meet her eyes. “Hey, who’s to say you aren’t in a sweet relationship in private?”

Although he asked in a joking tone, such a blatant inquiry into her private life—especially regarding her romantic affairs—was nothing short of a deliberate attempt to embarrass Jiang Menghe.

Yin Yunzhu sat on the sofa in the lounge. She had no real interest in talent shows and was only there because Jiang Menghe had invited her. Whenever the camera cut to Jiang, she became exceptionally focused. The person on the big screen looked different than on a mobile phone; the camera was a harsher test of one’s bone structure, and the 16:9 aspect ratio made people appear slightly broader.

In reality, Jiang Menghe’s waist was so slender that it could be easily circled with one hand, but on television, she looked perfectly proportioned.

Hearing Chen Nan’s interrogation, Yin Yunzhu instinctively furrowed her brows. Even Ye Xiyang, sitting nearby, noticed the tension. This was a trap; even if the segment was edited out later, there were too many audience members present. Who could guarantee that nothing would leak?

“I’m not,” Jiang Menghe replied. She didn’t take the bait, remaining entirely indifferent to the topic.

Chen Nan was relentless. “Then surely you have someone you like in secret?”

Fang Xiuqing stepped in to help. “Teacher Jiang has so much personal charisma. Why would she ever have a one-sided crush on someone else?”

“I’m just curious. Back in my student days, I had a crush on a girl,” Chen Nan babbled on, seemingly sharing an embarrassing story from his past.

“Sorry,” Jiang Menghe interrupted him. “I don’t have anyone I like either. Sorry to disappoint you.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

The faint scent of gunpowder grew thick with that sentence. The host quickly smoothed things over. “We’ll cut this part out in post-production.”

Watching the composed Jiang Menghe on the screen, Yin Yunzhu pulled at her sleeves, hiding her hands. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her heart; it was like being held up high only to be suddenly dropped, a jarring sensation of weightlessness in her chest.

She wasn’t unreasonable. She knew there were things that couldn’t be said directly on a show, but hearing the denial firsthand still made her feel conflicted.

Yin Yunzhu didn’t believe Jiang Menghe felt nothing for her. In bed, amid those incoherent whispers and broken endearments, Jiang would press her head down, praising how wonderful and amazing she was. They would clean each other up afterward, and Jiang would brush away her sweat-dampened hair to kiss her brow tenderly.

Yet, thinking of Jiang Menghe’s gaze just now—so effortless and practiced—Yin Yunzhu wondered if Jiang was simply using her masterful acting skills to deceive her during their private moments as well. After all, during their roleplays, Jiang never broke character, whereas Yin Yunzhu was the one constantly losing focus and flubbing her lines.

Yin Yunzhu rubbed her nose awkwardly, her internal unease fading slightly.

The program lasted until the early morning. The house lights came on, and colorful streamers from the finale drifted down onto the stage.

Exhausted from sitting for so long, Jiang Menghe watched the audience disperse and began packing her things. Chen Nan walked over with his hands in his pockets, tapping on her desk. “Teacher Jiang, don’t take what I said earlier to heart.”

As expected, the man had indeed signed the music student. He seemed to be in a good mood, his voice trailing off with a hint of arrogance.

Jiang Menghe’s lips curved as her sharp gaze swept over him. She left without saying a word. She had always been disinclined to deal with people like him; if it weren’t for the future cooperation with the production team, she wouldn’t have even spared him a look.

Stepping out of the venue, the temperature had plummeted. A cold wind slipped into her collar. She wrapped her coat tightly, intending to wait for Yin Yunzhu at the entrance, but the girl was nowhere to be found. After asking the staff, she learned that all the spectators had already left. Remembering her phone was with Ye Xiyang, she decided to head back to the lounge first.

The corridor was brightly lit, and many lounge doors were slightly ajar. When she reached hers, she found the door locked. She pushed it open and entered. The warm air from the air conditioner made the leaves of the hanging ivy dance. The room appeared empty until she spotted a figure on the sofa.

Jiang Menghe turned around and saw Yin Yunzhu curled up, her hood pulled low to wrap herself up completely. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson—likely from a lack of oxygen after sleeping for so long. Her long eyelashes trembled slightly as if she were dreaming.

Jiang’s heart was touched as if by soft cotton, a sweetness slowly melting within. She moved quietly, crouching down to study the girl’s face. Yin Yunzhu’s curled palm held her phone, and Jiang could just make out a dark mark on her hand. Curious, she tried to pull the sleeve back for a better look.

As soon as her hand touched the sleeve, it was gripped in return. Yin Yunzhu, who had been faking sleep, revealed a triumphant grin. “Caught you,” she hummed.

Her voice carried a lingering sleepiness. She should have sounded lazy upon waking, but she insisted on articulating every word, giving the illusion of being completely cherished and loved.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Jiang Menghe chose to believe it at that moment. She brushed her knuckle against Yin Yunzhu’s cheek. “Why are you still here this late?”

“I ran into Sister Ye, and she brought me here.”

“You didn’t go to the venue?” Jiang Menghe held her hand, only to find the ring finger on her right hand was a startling shade of reddish-purple.

“What happened?” She immediately softened her movements, carefully massaging around the injury without touching it directly, resisting the urge to blow on it.

Yin Yunzhu wasn’t usually the type to act spoiled, but being cradled and cared for like this made a wave of grievance bubble up. She pouted, a spark of irrational anger rising only to be instantly diluted.

“Jiang Menghe, let me tell you,” she shifted her body to find a more comfortable position. “Let me tell you.”

She repeated it twice as if preparing for a major speech. Jiang Menghe held the injured finger with both hands and looked up at her. The woman’s dark, pinned-up hair had loosened over the hours, softly framing her face. Her noble, gentle eyes were like deep whirlpools, pulling people in.

Yin Yunzhu suddenly felt shy. “Actually, it’s not a big deal,” she muttered.

As she recounted how she had been trapped, rescued by the guard, and then met Ye Xiyang, she watched the expressions on Jiang’s face shift colorfully.

“You think it’s ridiculous too, right?” She felt embarrassed, as if she were admitting how unreliable she was.

“So you haven’t treated your finger since it was pinched?” Jiang Menghe found it funny, yet she tapped the edge of the nail. “Does it hurt?”

“If I don’t use force, I can’t really feel it,” Yin Yunzhu shook her head.

The woman let out a long sigh, her expression troubled. “I’m afraid if we delay going to the hospital, we might have to amputate.”

She spoke with such heavy gravity that Yin Yunzhu turned pale. “It’s not that serious. I suddenly feel like it’s recovered a bit.”

The fickle attitude was amusing. Jiang Menghe smiled and left for a moment, returning with a can of ice-cold Coke. The red can was beaded with condensation. The woman leaned down, using a towel to support Yin Yunzhu’s wrist while carefully applying the cold can to the injury.

“We’ll use ice first, then go to the hospital,” she said seriously. Even so, she didn’t scold her. “If it’s serious, we might have to remove the nail to let it heal.”

“Can we not remove it?” Yin Yunzhu let her work, not daring to move.

“If I were a miracle doctor, I’d heal this hand right now so you wouldn’t feel a speck of pain.” The woman’s touch was light, like a feather brushing against her, sending a tingling itch through her skin.

Yin Yunzhu enjoyed this sight of Jiang being nervous and busy for her sake. Her attention drifted from her hand to Jiang Menghe’s features. On the screen, she was calm and detached, but that was nothing compared to the warmth that seeped into the skin when she was within reach. The same expressions and movements were there, but the barrier between them was quietly dissolving.

That phrase, “I don’t have anyone I like,” which had grated against her heart like a dull knife, was now being soothed as her spirit began to heal.

“What are you thinking about?” Jiang Menghe asked without looking up, carefully inspecting the bruised area.

Yin Yunzhu looked up quickly, her eyes darting around as she tried to hide her thoughts. “I was thinking, if the nail is gone, would you find it distasteful?” Once the words were out, her temporary courage deflated like a popped balloon.

If Jiang Menghe found it distasteful, so what? If she didn’t, what then? Would she have to suffer in silence just because of the former? Yin Yunzhu had seen too many examples of people throwing themselves headfirst into love. Reason told her not to be the submissive one in a relationship, yet she couldn’t help but fall into Jiang Menghe’s gentle web.

“Distasteful?” Jiang Menghe paused and tilted her chin slightly. “In your eyes, am I some heartless boss who forces injured employees to work overtime?”

“I’m not your employee,” Yin Yunzhu corrected. She always loved to argue over small details.

The two of them were held together by a physical relationship, a bond so thin it was hard to imagine it lasting. The substitutability was too high. Yin Yunzhu feared that if they were separated for a while because of this, Jiang Menghe would never remember her again. If that time truly came, she might not be able to walk away gracefully.

Cursing herself for having no backbone, she still longed for the answer she expected. “Would you?”

Jiang Menghe didn’t understand why she was being so sentimental, and a long silence followed. She didn’t know, and had never imagined, a possibility without Yin Yunzhu. Even knowing that the two were destined not to have a future, her selfishness stretched the present into an infinite horizon.

In the end, it would either be a life alone or a life with a companion. If she had to choose, she would rather that person be Yin Yunzhu.

But she never makes choices.

The air grew still for a moment. Just as Yin Yunzhu thought she had stepped onto a landmine and was ready to take back her words, Jiang Menghe spoke softly.

“I don’t know.”

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