The corridor was quiet.
Song Yu seldom smoked. Yet now, breaking his usual habit, he took a cigarette pack from his pocket. “One more?” he offered.
“I’ve been cutting down—one is my limit. I already had one,” Xiao Yanzhi said, eyes flicking to the cigarette in his hand and then away.
“Rare sight,” Song Yu said with a surprised smile. He lit his own cigarette, pocketed the lighter, and glanced at him. “Just joking earlier?”
He meant Xiao agreeing—so casually—to a divorce with Bai He.
Xiao made a soft, humorless sound and said nothing. He had always been meticulous with people and affairs. When had he ever been one to joke like that?
After a few seconds, Song Yu let out a thin laugh. “What, you wanted me to set a precedent—fail at a marriage—so you could use it as an excuse later to go against your family?”
Xiao loosened his collar, an ennui in his voice. “You’re a lawyer. You litigate for a living. You talk more than most.”
Song Yu smiled at the sting in the remark. That hit the mark.
They’d known each other for years; many of their friends were settling down. Xiao, always the most visible among them, had a marriage that carried weight. None of them could simply pick a partner on a whim—and Xiao was no exception.
“If I divorced,” Song Yu said out of the blue, “I suppose I’d chase Jiang Li.” He put it out casually, “Is she doing alright? I heard she isn’t acting anymore.”
He added on purpose, “We didn’t get to catch up properly when we married before. Maybe you know where she lives now? I’m thinking of taking a long leave…”
“Song Yu.” Xiao’s eyes narrowed. “I’m willing to take back what I said.”
Song Yu understood immediately and raised his hands in mock surrender. “My bad. Mercy, please.”
No need to press. It would be gauche to be oblivious now. The disappointment thinned into a smile. He regarded Xiao with a look that had more meaning than his words. “Have you decided, then? Are you really going to try with Jiang Li?”
“Hmm.” After dodging several questions earlier, Xiao finally answered this one directly.
Song Yu arched a brow, playful. “So confident she’ll say yes?”
That hit a nerve. Xiao’s face darkened. Song Yu, sensing it, poured on a little more salt. “Honestly, what you did before was unforgivable. If she doesn’t hate you, that’s only because she’s merciful.”
Xiao said nothing. Pride wouldn’t let him admit that Jiang Li had, in fact, once told him she hated him.
He kept his voice flat. “I have patience.”
“You can be patient all you want, but it depends whether she’s willing to wait.” Song Yu’s lawyer instincts kicked in. “If she never gives you an opening, no matter how patient you are, you’ll only end up with…a lifetime of loneliness.”
Xiao pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re very good at this.”
“I am a lawyer. Your micro-expressions don’t fool me.”
Clearly, the road to win Jiang Li back was rough. Xiao, who’d fought hard to resist smoking, suddenly felt the urge again after a few minutes of conversation. He fished a cigarette out. “As you said—things are…complicated.”
“I’m curious. Tell me.”
Xiao felt oddly discomfited sharing developments with a rival, but he needed a strategist. “She’s shut down. She rejects any of my attempts. She won’t accept anything I offer.”
He summarized the recent episodes. Song Yu listened without surprise. “Doesn’t seem strange to me.”
“How is that normal?” Xiao asked.
“Think about it.” Song Yu snorted. “You invited her to a bar out of the blue, then asked why she came. She thoughtfully brought something to sober you up, and you called her ‘trash’—an unwanted nobody. Now you’re wondering why she won’t take you back? Are you expecting to go pick up ‘trash’ you threw away?”
Song Yu gave him a look and then, when the cigarette dwindled, stomped it out in the corridor bin. He patted Xiao’s shoulder with fatherly gravity. “Put down the utilitarian mindset. Business strategies don’t work on women.”
Before leaving, Song Yu offered a parting shot—softened with something like conscience. “Thanks for the advice. After hearing about you, I’m actually going to try things again with Bai He. Maybe feelings will develop. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Xiao felt another blow to his ego.
…
The film problem resolved faster than anyone expected. Ying Chengqi was ecstatic; he called Jiang Li, apologies tumbling out, claiming he’d acted rashly and blocked her in the heat of the moment.
Jiang Li knew Ying well. He lived for his craft and hated people who damaged his work for no reason. She didn’t take offense; instead she complimented his decisiveness. “It was my fault in the first place. If the film can go back into circulation, that’s what matters.”
Ying, never one for roundabout speech, was direct. “Good things take time. The film’s only getting a shot to be shown because of Mr. Xiao’s help.”
“Are you free lately? I want to invite the main cast out to dinner. We’ll likely talk about overseas promotion and other shooting matters. A table talk would be perfect.”
She didn’t decline.
On the night of the dinner, Jiang Li had a play to perform and calculated that she’d still make it. But traffic snarled after the show and she arrived last.
Most of the cast were in Flower City at the moment; a gathering wasn’t hard. She hadn’t expected Xiao Yanzhi to be there.
Amid a table full of actors and entertainers, Xiao sat in the place of honor, a composed, almost forbidding presence. Conversation dimmed around him. Ying sat on his left; the chair on his right was conspicuously empty, as if deliberately reserved—an oddity in a fully seated room.
“Come on, Jiang Li, over here,” Ying waved when she pushed through the door. “We’re just waiting on you. Sit next to Mr. Xiao.”
A smile stuck to her face as she shifted her gaze to the man. He gave her only a brief nod when she entered, then slowly bent his head to wipe his hands with a handkerchief—an indifferent gesture, as if they were nothing more than acquaintances.