The Person I Love Who Has Been Missing For Three Years - Chapter 45

Chapter 45: Sick with Obsession

Song Xiangwan didn’t sleep soundly. When Ming Jin got up, she was already awake.

Subconsciously, she sat up, wanting to help, but was stopped by a look from Ming Jin: “I’ll do it myself.”

The few times she had successfully helped were when Ming Jin was in a very poor state and completely lacked the strength to struggle. At this moment, she certainly couldn’t insist.

She simply sat on the bed, watching Ming Jin brace herself against the wheelchair and shift over, her eyes glued to every subtle movement. Her heart was in her throat.

Finally, seeing Ming Jin move smoothly without falling or bumping, and looking composed, she let out a sigh of relief.

She got up and dressed herself. Watching Ming Jin head to the meeting room, she rushed to the elevator.

The time was just right for her to get to the Central Dance Academy, with no spare time left.

Yet, she ran into the ‘fixed-point refresh NPC’ sister again. There seemed to be some strange rule that she always encountered her in the elevator.

Li Miao was initially sending messages with her head down, her fingers tapping the screen rapidly and rhythmically like playing a piano, inputting a long paragraph of text.

As she hit the send button, she smelled that scent—the perfume, which was fainter than at noon, seemingly mixed with other smells.

But she still recognized the scent and looked up: “What a coincidence.”

“Indeed,” Song Xiangwan nodded, feeling a little expectant. What new gossip was she going to share?

But after waiting a while, the gossip didn’t come voluntarily. Song Xiangwan tentatively asked: “Are you heading downstairs?”

“Yes, the department ordered afternoon tea. I’m going down to pick it up.” This one sentence opened the floodgates for Li Miao’s conversation.

“We didn’t rest at all at noon. My boss made us go through all of this year’s data from beginning to end, so she treated us to afternoon tea.”

“I heard that everyone at Ming Corporation is working overtime today. The cafeteria barely had anyone eating lunch.”

“What happened?” Song Xiangwan noticed that as long as she threw out a question, the person opposite would return a pile of information.

“CEO Ming was furious, and all the executives are panicking,” Li Miao curled her lip and lowered her voice. “I’m only telling you, don’t spread it.”

“I heard CEO Ming’s little lover showed up and actually saved these executives.”

“If it hadn’t been for that intervention, the morning meeting might have gone straight into the afternoon, and who knows how many executives would have been dealt with.”

Little Lover Song Xiangwan gently tugged at the mask on her face: “Oh, is that so?”

“I arrived late, but there have always been rumors in the company that CEO Ming had a little lover years ago who often came to the company to see her.”

“But not a single photo has ever circulated. No one knows who this mysterious person is.”

“And no one knows if she’s been replaced in between.”

“But given the nature of these wealthy people, replacing lovers in batches is not uncommon…”

At this point, she suddenly paused, realizing she might have spoken out of turn, and quickly added a qualification: “It’s not always like that.”

The Rolls-Royce was already waiting at the entrance.

Since it was a weekday, social vehicles were not allowed inside the Central Dance Academy campus. Song Xiangwan got out at the East Gate and walked slowly inside.

The East Gate was a smaller entrance. This area was the East District Family Quarters, with slightly old buildings covered in deep green ivy, red bricks, and green tiles. The red paint on the old window frames was peeling, giving the area a sense of historical weight.

Sparrows hopped along the sidewalk. They didn’t fly away when they heard footsteps, only tilting their heads to watch people walk by.

During class time, foot traffic was low. Occasionally, a student on an electric scooter would zoom past, creating a slight breeze.

The entire path was shrouded in thick shade. Only the chirping of birds could be heard, creating a sense of peace that calmed the mind.

Song Xiangwan had a deep affection for the school. This place had allowed her to emerge from her small mountain village and enter the palace of art; it was the turning point of her life.

Especially during her freshman and sophomore years, it was truly a pure college life.

Classes, dance practice, shopping with roommates, watching performances, eating at the night market… her biggest worry was just whether she would fail a course, without any anxiety about the future. Life seemed bright and sunny, and she was walking on the right path.

At that time, her goal was simple: practice dancing well, join a troupe later, and become the focal point on stage.

She loved dancing. Stretching her body, interpreting emotions through the flowing music, and dancing gracefully allowed her to forget her worries, as if the world held only the dance.

It was only because of that web drama incident that she accidentally stumbled into the entertainment industry.

“Senior Sister…” A nervous voice reached her. It was a sweet-looking junior who quickened her pace to catch up with Song Xiangwan. “Are you Senior Sister Song Xiangwan?”

She was recognized despite wearing a mask.

College students, unlike working adults, had plenty of time to follow the entertainment industry and celebrities.

“Yes,” Song Xiangwan replied without airs. She nodded and whispered, “Shh, don’t let anyone know.”

“Could you sign an autograph for me?” The junior said, fumbling in her bag for a notebook and pen.

“Of course,” Song Xiangwan took them and signed her name on the colored page.

The junior carefully asked: “Are you here to see Professor Lu? I watched the first episode of Dance Masters. Are you here for rehearsal?”

“That… is a secret…” Song Xiangwan didn’t give a definitive answer, fluttering her light eyelashes.

The slight ripple of light in her phoenix eyes instantly made the junior blush.

Song Xiangwan smiled: “What’s your name? I’ll sign it with a dedication.”

If she admitted it was for rehearsal, it would mean several celebrities were coming, which could cause a campus commotion.

The junior was overwhelmed by the beauty and distracted by the dedication: “My name is Jiang Jiang (the Jiang from ‘Yangtze River’). Thank you, Senior Sister.”

“I really like you. I’m a fan of yours. I especially love the dance drama Chang’an. I’ve watched it repeatedly.”

“We’re even planning to perform a cover of Chang’an at the Mid-Autumn Festival Gala.”

“It’s such a pity that you haven’t participated in any dance dramas these past few years.”

Song Xiangwan had already handed the notebook back. The junior took it and bowed: “Thank you, Senior Sister. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Before leaving, she added with a smile: “I’ll keep watching the show and encourage everyone around me to vote for you. Good luck.”

Song Xiangwan watched the figure run off, stood rooted for a few seconds, and then walked on.

Dance drama… Chang’an… That truly was a long-ago memory.

It was the dance drama her class performed in a competition during their sophomore year, before she entered the entertainment industry.

Chang’an told the story of the Tang Dynasty, adapted from the Song of Everlasting Sorrow, with Song Xiangwan playing Yang Guifei.

The performance won the gold medal in the competition at the time.

But since it was only a university competition, it ultimately didn’t generate much buzz. Not many people remembered Chang’an anymore.

Song Xiangwan arrived just in time, but Zhou Xintong and Chen Mengyi were even earlier than her.

“Senior Sister.”

“Sister Wan.”

The two smiled and greeted Song Xiangwan, who removed her mask and let out a sigh of relief.

She had had some time to spare, but she ran into several students who recognized her on the way, and signing autographs took some time.

She was a little surprised: “Did you two not run into any fans on your way in?”

According to their group chat, neither of them had left when she departed Ming Corporation, so they should have arrived later than her.

“No, I don’t have any fans,” Zhou Xintong blinked and sighed dramatically. “I strutted right in, and no one even cared.”

“You’ll definitely have fans after a few episodes air,” Song Xiangwan laughed, reaching out to tap her forehead.

The cheerful and bright little rabbit had simply been unlucky before. With excellent professional skills and no negative rumors, she was only one opportunity away from becoming popular.

Chen Mengyi’s eyes flickered away, and then she said: “I drove in with a friend. I came straight to the dance studio and didn’t run into anyone.”

She was worried that Song Xiangwan and Zhou Xintong would continue to ask questions.

But they didn’t. Song Xiangwan didn’t dwell on it. She had only asked casually.

It wasn’t strange for Chen Mengyi, who had been in the entertainment industry for so long, to know friends on the Central Dance Academy faculty.

Lu Peiling was the last to arrive, rushing in with sweat on her forehead. As she walked, she took off her shoulder bag and placed it on a nearby cabinet.

“Sorry, sorry, I was just guiding a student rehearsal and giving some pointers. I’m late.”

“Sister Ling,” all three greeted her.

Lu Peiling focused her gaze specifically on Song Xiangwan’s face: “How are you? You were still on an IV drip yesterday. Maybe you should just watch from the side today.”

“I’m fine. I asked the doctor, and I can exercise moderately,” Song Xiangwan quickly said. “Please don’t let me hold up our group’s performance.”

“It’s good that you’re fine. Just do what you can,” Lu Peiling glanced at her watch. “The production team said a photographer would come to shoot, and they should be arriving soon.”

“Oh, is someone filming behind-the-scenes footage?” Zhou Xintong was surprised and quickly touched her face. “What should I do? I’m not wearing makeup.”

Lu Peiling picked up her bag, took out a makeup pouch, and said: “I anticipated this. I grabbed this on my way back after guiding the students. Just make do with it for now.”

“I only received the message from the production team half an hour ago, asking if we were rehearsing.”

“Sorry for the lack of notice.”

“It’s okay. My makeup skills are pretty good. Professor Lu, Senior Sister, do you need my help?” Zhou Xintong expertly lined up the cosmetics.

“No need,” Song Xiangwan and Lu Peiling said almost in unison.

“Professor Lu is a master in her field. She doesn’t rely on her looks, so of course she doesn’t care.”

“Sister Wan is naturally beautiful. We can’t compare.”

“Only Mengyi had the foresight to wear full makeup…”

“Alright, hurry up and do your makeup,” Song Xiangwan was slightly exasperated. This person was busy but still had time to chatter.

Song Xiangwan went over to help Lu Peiling adjust the sound equipment. Just as Zhou Xintong finished her makeup, the photographer arrived.

The behind-the-scenes footage would be released mid-week as a spin-off to maintain the show’s popularity. Generally, a rough cut resulting in two or three minutes of footage per group was good enough.

Song Xiangwan didn’t try to steal the spotlight. Most of the camera work for their group was focused on Lu Peiling.

As a professional professor, when she immersed herself in teaching, she was patient, meticulous, gentle, and professional—her whole being exuded professional charm.

“Good, you’ve all learned all the movements now,” Lu Peiling nodded and picked up her phone.

“I have another class to teach soon, so I won’t be staying with you.”

“I’ll record a solo version for each of you. You can compare it with the teaching video and practice on your own when you go back.”

“Thanks, Sister Ling.” Zhou Xintong hopped over with her phone but paused. “Sister Wan, Mengyi, you two go first.”

Although she was talkative and mischievous, she was always polite and kept herself in a humble position.

The music started—a long, melodious flute. Song Xiangwan turned back, raised her hand, and spun. With the flowing music, her movements were fluid, her toes pointed, precisely hitting every beat.

Song Xiangwan’s body proportions were a talent that amazed her dance teacher when she was young. Her limbs were slender, her chin was slightly lifted, and her insteps were taut. From head to toe, she was full of elegance and pride, perfectly matching the sound of the flute and zither in the music.

Then, the drumbeats intensified, and her footwork suddenly became lighter. She bent backward, turned, paused, and the ink-wash silk ribbon in her hand instantly swirled out.

It formed circles of ripples around her. Her footwork was light, like an elf in a landscape painting, draped in the ink-wash.

The ribbon suddenly flew into the air, then drifted down, landing on her shoulder, slowly falling along her clothes as the music stopped.

“Excellent,” Lu Peiling pressed the stop recording button and handed the phone back. “There are basically no major problems.”

“There are a few small details to address. I’ll video call you later after my class to discuss them. Next.”

Next was Chen Mengyi. Song Xiangwan didn’t pay much attention, looking down and fast-forwarding through the video on her phone.

She could feel that she was slightly weak and strained when she danced, especially the final spin, where her footing was a little unstable.

She could have easily executed these moves in college.

These years, she had, after all, regressed.

An amateur might not notice, but Lu Peiling certainly would. She was just using praise and encouragement as a teaching method.

However, overall, it was still very beautiful.

Song Xiangwan blinked slightly, found the chat box with Ming Jin, and successfully sent the video.

“No, no. The left foot goes out first here,” Lu Peiling’s voice cut through the music.

Chen Mengyi looked a little lost: “I’m sorry, I remembered it wrong…”

“It’s okay. I’m not criticizing you. You’ve learned very well. It’s good for an amateur to remember so many moves in one afternoon.”

“Try this again. Stepping out with the left foot first, followed by the right, is more natural. If you habitually step out with the right foot, you won’t be able to do the subsequent movements.”

Lu Peiling didn’t criticize. She taught and guided her, and Chen Mengyi managed to stumble through the routine once.

When she finished, she looked noticeably disheartened.

Song Xiangwan handed her a tissue: “Wipe your sweat. It’s okay. You’re just a little too nervous.”

“I…” She hesitated for a moment, then finally started speaking, “I’m a slow learner. Can you teach me later?”

“Sure, the time is still early, and I have nothing else to do,” Song Xiangwan checked her phone. Ming Jin hadn’t replied.

There was no ‘read’ receipt, so she didn’t know if Ming Jin had seen it.

Was she still in the meeting?

Was her lower back still holding up?

What if she got angry and her heart condition flared up?

A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. When Chen Mengyi called her, she snapped out of her thoughts: “Oh, what did you say?”

“I said…” Chen Mengyi’s voice was very quiet, “Can you help me connect with some of the seniors in the industry?”

She explained in a slight panic: “It’s about that post last time… You must know a lot of big shots, right?”

“You?” Song Xiangwan frowned. “Why would you think of that?”

She was at a point where her career was on the rise and she was considered a popular young actress. Why would she have such a self-destructive thought?

“The two dramas that aired recently didn’t have very good reviews.”

“Years ago, fans said my face was too wide and unattractive, so I had some work done. Now I can’t express emotions very well.”

“After that… I haven’t had much work for the latter half of the year. The company is debuting new people…”

The news of Chen Mengyi’s plastic surgery had caused a huge sensation. Shortly after she became popular, sensationalized news spread everywhere, calling her an ‘ugly ancient drama actress.’

She wasn’t firm in her conviction, so she went for surgery. The paparazzi caught her, and it became a massive news story.

The originally talented young girl fell from grace. When she acted again, she lacked the previous spark and vitality.

Everyone in this industry had their own struggles.

Song Xiangwan sighed slightly and patted Chen Mengyi’s shoulder: “You can think about other breakthroughs.”

“For example, participating in a dance variety show now is a very good path. If you work hard, you’ll definitely gain fans.”

“Don’t think about those shady things.”

Ninety percent of so-called sugar daddies were not good people.

In Song Xiangwan’s mind, this ratio was initially one hundred percent, but there were exceptions, after all.

It wasn’t that she was unwilling to introduce Chen Mengyi to resources, but Chen Mengyi seemed indecisive and unsure of what she wanted, simply going with the flow.

Bringing her into that big, messy world at this time would clearly not be good for her.

“But can hard work really lead to success?” Chen Mengyi laughed softly, her tone laced with sadness. “I worked hard. What good did it do?”

“Didn’t you also…” She stopped halfway through, realizing her emotional slip-up.

Song Xiangwan frowned: “Do you believe what was said in that post?”

Chen Mengyi didn’t speak. Song Xiangwan knew she was admitting it by default.

“Do you really think that you can become famous by just being opportunistic?” Song Xiangwan felt that this girl was being completely misled.

“I did have some good fortune and met my benefactor. I can’t deny that.”

“But what was said in that post is fake. I do not have any improper relationships with those producers and directors.”

“I have someone I love. I will only love one person in my entire life.”

As she spoke, the music happened to stop, and the surroundings were quiet. All three pairs of eyes were on her.

Zhou Xintong coughed lightly twice and covered her ears: “Sister Wan, I didn’t hear anything. Ah, I’m deaf.”

Song Xiangwan couldn’t help but laugh: “What’s the big deal?”

“Can’t I admit it?”

“I do have someone I love.”

“I’m not afraid of people knowing. I hope I can pursue her right away and be in a relationship with her.”

“Well, congratulations in advance then?” Lu Peiling smiled. “Alright, my class is about to start. I’m going to class now.”

“Sister Wan, Mengyi, I have dinner plans, so I’m leaving first too.” Zhou Xintong waved with a smile.

“Sister Wan…” Chen Mengyi’s tone was awkward.

“It’s okay. I think you’ll figure things out someday,” Song Xiangwan walked over to adjust the speakers. “Let me teach you your part again.”

When it came to this topic, Song Xiangwan felt she had no right to say anything.

She did have a sugar mommy and became popular relying on her.

But she would not advocate for anyone else to follow this path. The probability of meeting someone like Ming Jin was too low.

Moreover, she regretted this beginning now.

This beginning of money-for-sex exchange was a barrier in her heart before, and now it was lodged in Ming Jin’s heart, becoming an unignorable thorn between them.

They practiced until ten o’clock that evening, having simple takeout dinner in between.

Chen Mengyi’s foundation was truly poor. It was nearly ten before she managed to stumble through and remember most of the routine.

Song Xiangwan taught with dedication. She hoped Chen Mengyi could seize this stage and achieve what she wanted, so she wouldn’t have to consider those shady routes anymore.

For this, she even canceled her appointment with the psychologist, focusing entirely on teaching Chen Mengyi.

Since she was still recovering from her illness, her energy suddenly drained when she said goodbye to Chen Mengyi at the school gate, making her feel lethargic.

Once in the car, Song Xiangwan opened her chat with Ming Jin and refreshed it several times—still no message.

It had been an entire afternoon. Ming Jin should have seen the dance video by now.

She had said she liked watching her dance.

Why was there no reply?

Song Xiangwan thought for a moment, opened the chat box with ‘Less Ice, Slight Sugar’ (Ming Jin’s online alias), and sent the video.

Less Ice, Slight Sugar: Very beautiful.

Song Xiangwan: Thank you.

Sure enough, Ming Jin wasn’t busy. She was simply trying to push her away, so she deliberately didn’t reply.

At the Ming house, Lin Rong was sitting by the bed, conducting Ming Jin’s pre-sleep heart rate and blood pressure test, watching the heart rate data spike.

Normally, she would be very worried, but now she was calm: “CEO Ming, what are you watching?”

Ming Jin was watching a dance video. The second time. She clicked to close it.

Leaning against the headboard, she closed her eyes and sighed: “My apologies. You can remeasure now.”

However, Lin Rong measured several times, and the heart rate and blood pressure were clearly not at a peaceful state.

Lin Rong put down the monitor, her arched eyebrow slightly raised, and her tone teased: “CEO Ming, can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“What did that little canary do to make you so restless?”

“Dr. Lin…” Ming Jin opened her eyes, which were filled with a strong, turbulent undercurrent. “I truly think I might be sick…”

Lin Rong blinked and clicked her tongue: “You finally realized you’re a patient?”

Absurd. If she wasn’t sick, then who was?

Lin Rong didn’t ask for further explanation. Ming Jin wasn’t referring to a physical illness.

She was the one who hadn’t replied to Song Xiangwan’s message that afternoon. She felt her relationship with Song Xiangwan was getting out of control and wanted to create some distance.

But, when Song Xiangwan sent the video to ‘Less Ice, Slight Sugar’ in the evening, she felt an unbearable surge of emotion.

The dance video wasn’t just sent to her? Others had it too?

The thought made Ming Jin feel like she was going insane.

Yet, she was the one who had pushed her away…

Ming Jin’s fingers couldn’t help but clench tightly, leaving crescent-shaped marks on her palms. She truly was sick with obsession.