The Person I Love Who Has Been Missing For Three Years - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Miss Song Refuses to Get in the Car

Song Xiangwan thought she was being delusional. How could President Ming show up for such a small investment?

A few years ago, when they were still together, President Ming wouldn’t have given this scale of investment a second thought, let alone now, when she looked to be in poor health.

The dinner table was a flurry of activity and wine. People from the Ming Group did come, but it was just a manager named Wang, who sat next to Director Wu Chun.

Song Xiangwan didn’t see Ming Jin, and she was listless the entire evening, only raising her teacup in response when someone addressed her. She had just been on an IV drip in the hospital, so Song Xiangwan excused herself by saying she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t drink alcohol tonight.

Cao Xin was surprised by her unexpected obedience tonight, feeling that the young mistress seemed to have changed her ways.

Song Xiangwan was subdued, and the most radiant person at the table was Su Chenxing. She was elaborately dressed with exquisite makeup, truly the social butterfly of the gathering.

However, President Wu’s gaze was not on Su Chenxing. He kept staring at Song Xiangwan, his eyes roaming up and down her figure with a lecherous scrutiny.

Song Xiangwan felt uncomfortable being watched and excused herself to go to the restroom, then walked out of the private room.

There were people coming and going in the hotel corridor, so she opened the door to the fire escape and stood on the stairs, scrolling through social media.

Social media was filled with laughter, saying she had just posted a scathing comment to insult people and then immediately ‘slid to her knees’ (humiliatingly backed down), calling it shameful.

Song Xiangwan’s fans were desperately trying to clean up the comments section, but they couldn’t scrub them clean. Su Chenxing’s celebrity firepower was too strong to be resisted.

Messages in the fan group kept flashing, so Song Xiangwan clicked in and read a few. This fan group was established when she first debuted. The Song Xiangwan International Official Fan Club Group 1 was filled with veterans and loyal fans who had followed Song Xiangwan for seven or eight years.

Wanwan’s Visual Fan: I contacted the PR team and asked for the price of hiring internet trolls. It costs this much. (Followed by a screenshot of her chat, quoting 200,000 to clean up the forum).

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: The official fan account still has a little money. It’s just sitting there. Let’s use it.

Wanwan’s Visual Fan: It’s not enough. We still need to fund support for her when she goes on set later. We can’t spend it all.

Song Xiangwan’s Dog: I’ll contribute some personally. I just can’t stand seeing our Miss Song being wronged.

Mingyue Xiangwan Qing: Huh? We don’t have money in our account?

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: The studio has disbanded, and no one is managing us. The money in the account has lasted two years; that’s already pretty good.

Wanwan’s Visual Fan: I’ll contribute a little too, but I’ve had some issues lately and am short on cash, so I can only give 2,000 yuan.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: 2,000 yuan is still money! I’ll organize a crowdfunding effort, shall I?

Song Xiangwan’s Dog: I’ll give 5,000 yuan. Thanks for the hard work, Wife and Visual Fan. You two handle the collection and follow-up work.

Song Xiangwan felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t have many active fans left, just these few.

Song Xiangwan thought for a moment, clicked on the private chat with Song Xiangwan’s Wife, and sent a message: Send me a collection code. I’ll pay for this money. I can’t let you guys pay.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: Wife, are you actually reading our chat?

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: Wife, don’t let these messy things affect your mood. We’re all here.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: Just be well, knowing that you’re well is enough for us.

Song Xiangwan quickly interrupted her fan’s excited reaction: I’m perfectly fine. I eat well and sleep well. Don’t worry, just send me a collection code.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: No need, no need. A big shot just privately messaged me and offered sponsorship. No need for crowdfunding anymore.

Song Xiangwan: Huh? Who gave it?

Song Xiangwan’s Wife immediately sent a screenshot. It was a private message screenshot. The sender had the default gray profile picture and the ID LessIceLightSugar.

LessIceLightSugar: Collection code.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: Thank you for your generous support. We will list the details and post them in the group.

LessIceLightSugar: Sent.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: Five hundred thousand!!! Big shot, did you send the wrong amount?

LessIceLightSugar: No. Keep it for future support.

Song Xiangwan thought carefully, but she had absolutely no memory of this LessIceLightSugar. She occasionally checked the fan group and the forum. The Visual Fan, Wife Fan, and Dog Fan were all active members, so she generally remembered them.

But this LessIceLightSugar, she really didn’t think she had ever seen.

Song Xiangwan searched for the name in the group, found the person, clicked on their profile, and it was completely blank.

She clicked on the private chat: Hello, sorry to bother you. I’ll return the 500,000 to you. I can’t let fans pay for this.

The person was online but didn’t reply. One minute after Song Xiangwan sent the message, the other party went offline.

Song Xiangwan: ???

Is that the reaction of a normal fan?

Song Xiangwan’s Wife’s reaction was the normal one, right? Wouldn’t a fan scream repeatedly after receiving a private message from the star?

Song Xiangwan’s Wife had already posted the screenshot of her private chat with Song Xiangwan in the group.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: Wanwan said she’s doing very well, eating and sleeping well, and told us not to worry.

Song Xiangwan’s Dog: Aww, I’m jealous. Wanwan is so kind, she doesn’t want us to spend money.

Wanwan’s Visual Fan: It’s good to see Wanwan reporting she’s safe. I’m just so angry that the other side is bullying us like this.

Song Xiangwan’s Wife: It’s fine. We have a big shot sponsor now. We have money to bully them back!

Song Xiangwan couldn’t help but smile slightly. Her fans, like herself, had a nasty streak. They get arrogant when they are in power, and all they think about is getting revenge and bullying others.

The fire escape door opened again, and a person stood next to Song Xiangwan—a middle-aged man. He didn’t look at Song Xiangwan, just pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a click, and started smoking.

Smoking is prohibited in public places, so all these smokers hide in the fire escape.

Song Xiangwan moved sideways a step, increasing the distance between them, but she could still smell the pungent odor of smoke wafting over.

Song Xiangwan hated the smell of smoke the most. During the years she was with Ming Jin, absolutely no one dared to smoke in front of her.

Song Xiangwan choked and held her breath, putting her phone back in her pocket and hurrying away.

In the private room, after several rounds of drinks and food, everyone was a little tipsy, chatting back and forth. President Wu had switched seats with the person next to Song Xiangwan at some point. He waited for Song Xiangwan to return, then smiled widely: “Miss Song, we meet again.”

He smelled strongly of alcohol, and his face was somewhat flushed with drunkenness. Song Xiangwan instinctively wanted to turn and leave.

But she looked up and met Cao Xin’s slightly pleading gaze. She held her breath and sat down.

President Wu smiled: “Miss Song, would you like tea or juice?”

“Just juice,” Song Xiangwan said, reaching out to pour herself a glass of juice.

“Let me help you, you sit down, sit down.” President Wu also stood up and reached out to grab the cup in Song Xiangwan’s hand.

Song Xiangwan tried to dodge, but President Wu was faster. He grabbed Song Xiangwan’s hand firmly, trapping both the cup and her hand in his grip.

A slimy feeling. Song Xiangwan felt all the pores on her body constrict slightly. She forcefully yanked her hand away.

In the struggle, there was a snap, and the glass cup in her hand fell, smashing onto the glass turntable and shattering into several pieces.

The lively dinner party suddenly fell silent. Everyone turned to look.

“It’s nothing, she just didn’t hold it steady,” Cao Xin quickly stepped in to smooth things over, passing a napkin to Song Xiangwan. “Wipe your hand.”

Song Xiangwan didn’t know how she managed to walk out of the private room, only making the excuse that she wasn’t feeling well.

Cao Xin chased after her: “Should I ask the driver to take you back?”

“No need, I’ll take a taxi,” Song Xiangwan took a mask out of her bag and put it on, her eyes looking somewhat lost.

She and Cao Xin came in one car. Cao Xin clearly still had to stay and drink for a while, so if she took the car, Cao Xin would have to take a taxi later.

Cao Xin wanted to say something else, but her phone vibrated: “President Wu is calling me back. Be careful on the way, then.”

It had started raining heavily at some point—not just a normal rain, but a torrential downpour. The dense curtain of rain blocked all visibility. The standing water on the road was already calf-deep, and the wind was violently swaying the trees on both sides of the road.

Song Xiangwan opened three different ride-hailing apps and even added a dispatch fee, but no driver accepted the order.

She stood under the awning outside the hotel entrance. The wind blew, lifting the baseball cap off her head, sending her seaweed-like curly hair flying.

She reached out to grab the cap, but the wind was too strong, sweeping the cap into a puddle immediately.

What bad luck. Song Xiangwan clicked her tongue, saw the hat was soaked, and decided not to bother picking it up.

On the road right opposite the hotel, a black Rolls-Royce was parked. The headlights were off, and the car was idling.

The person inside looked across through the window. Her light brown eyes were deep as water, revealing no emotion.

Xu Zhiyan pulled the blanket further up on Ming Jin’s lap and whispered, “Sis, let’s go back.”

Ming Jin had old injuries all over her body, and the rainy weather always made them worse. But her sister had an incredible ability to endure, looking completely composed and unaffected, so no one could tell.

Ming Jin was indeed starting to feel uncomfortable. Her legs were numb, but her waist felt a chill, accompanied by a dull, throbbing pain.

She didn’t speak, her eyes just looked out, seeing the girl standing under the hotel entrance.

She didn’t know what she was thinking. She had clearly intended for them to go their separate ways, yet when she heard the $Qīng Chéng crew was having a dinner here, she couldn’t resist coming for a look.

Last time was just a quick glance. This time, she had the opportunity to observe carefully.

Song Xiangwan seemed to have lost weight. The wind blew at her clothes and hair, making her look so light she might be blown away.

When they were together, Song Xiangwan was always fussing about losing weight, saying that if she gained weight in the entertainment industry, reporters would mock her, yet she would often starve herself until her stomach hurt. So, no matter how busy she was, Ming Jin would supervise her meals whenever she could.

What did it matter if she gained a little weight? With her around, which entertainment reporter would dare publish that kind of nonsense?

But Song Xiangwan wouldn’t listen. She said acting was her dream, and if she wasn’t allowed to go out and act, she might as well be killed.

The wind blew even more violently, and Song Xiangwan still hadn’t received a ride-hailing order.

A black Mercedes-Benz stopped by the roadside. The driver ran across with an umbrella: “Miss Song, I’ll take you home.”

Song Xiangwan’s eyes instantly filled with vigilance. She backed up two steps, saying repeatedly: “No, no, I’ll take a taxi myself.”

The person tried to persuade her a couple more times, then reluctantly got into the car and made a call: “President Ming, Miss Song refuses to get in the car.”

It was understandable. Ming Jin had instructed him not to mention that the car belonged to the Ming family, and how could a female artist get into a stranger’s car so casually?

“Got it, you can go back,” Ming Jin said calmly, her finger tapping the phone screen as she hung up the call.

The wind and rain were intensifying. If Song Xiangwan continued to stand there, she would definitely catch a cold. Song Xiangwan’s constitution wasn’t that good; a cold always led to a fever, which lasted three or four days.

A conflicted look appeared in her light brown eyes. Ming Jin said flatly, “Uncle Tai, drive across the street.”

Ming Jin raised her hand slightly, pressed it against her forehead, closed her eyes, and said calmly, “Don’t talk, my head hurts.”

Xu Zhiyan knew this was her sister’s excuse to make her shut up, but she didn’t dare say a word.

Ming Jin’s voice came again, soft and slow: “Don’t call me Sis later. Any other title will do.”