Love strikes suddenly, like rain gently descending, yet unmistakable to the audience. And at this moment, she was the leading lady.
On her first day back to reality, Hu Xiu moved with her belongings to Zhenping Road. The bus stop right outside her door offered a direct route to the shop where Qin Xiaoyi worked, a mere fifteen-minute taxi ride away—intentionally leaving no full stop to her unrequited crush.
She swore she’d only realized how close the location was after renting the place. Zhao Xiaorou wouldn’t believe a word of it, teasing her with a laugh that she’d chosen it just to drop by and see Qin Xiaoyi anytime.
With her finances stretched thin after paying the first month’s rent and a three-month deposit, Hu Xiu urgently needed to find a job. A quiet thought nagged at her: Qin Xiaoyi wouldn’t fancy an unemployed loafer either.
Qin Xiaoyi, Qin Xiaoyi—all day long, it was Qin Xiaoyi. He’s just an NPC who doesn’t even remember who you are.
Sitting amid a pile of cardboard boxes, Hu Xiu shook her head. No more daydreaming—she had to at least set up the bed first.
A home shouldn’t feel like a storage hold; she couldn’t fantasize about Qin Xiaoyi in a cargo bay. She needed to prepare a cozy nest where love could blossom in her dreams.
The old apartment building had four units per floor. Behind the security door lay a space of just over thirty square meters: a kitchen to the left, a bathroom to the right, and a bedroom straight ahead that opened onto a balcony, making it feel airy and bright rather than cramped.
Hu Xiu had moved in on a clear day. Climbing to the sixth floor left her slightly breathless, but seeing the sunset spill into half the bedroom, she gritted her teeth and signed the lease—after all, the rainy season was approaching.
One month’s rent was enough to see Qin Xiaoyi nine times—Qin Xiaoyi, the currency of Hu Xiu’s heart.
Long before moving her things in, Hu Xiu had struggled to drag the bed against the outer wall and shift the sofa to the empty balcony, carving out a generous open space in between.
The desk was a bit worn, something she’d begged the landlord to include. She’d also assembled a new bookshelf, bought online for 199 yuan, capable of holding dozens of thick translation textbooks.
The books and notes nearly discarded after her broken engagement were stuffed into boxes and carried up on the back of a moving guy secured with ropes. Feeling guilty, she slipped him an extra hundred yuan.
By the time she finished unpacking, dawn was breaking. She dug out a movie poster she’d long treasured and tacked it on the wall beside the desk. The curtains bore claw marks, hinting that the previous tenant had kept a cat.
After working through the night, the sky was growing light. Peering out the window, she spotted a cat darting through the lush trees in the compound, slipping into the back gate of the elementary school’s cafeteria—soon, the first lively morning in the city would greet her.
Hearing Shanghainese chatter and the primary school’s flag-raising broadcast, she suddenly felt the extra cost of living downtown wasn’t so painful. Her former elevator apartment, isolated and prone to blackouts, had felt detached from the world after dark.
Now, surrounded by noise, she felt a bit more connected to the bustling rhythm of life—no longer the Hu Xiu who stood apart, always on the verge of being cast aside.
It all seemed like a blessing from Qin Xiaoyi.
The Support Light for Qin Xiaoyi, made by Zhao Xiaorou, was displayed at REGARD, visible right upon entry, as if urging Hu Xiu to charge fearlessly ahead for love.
Every time Hu Xiu entered, she’d pull her cap low and sit with her back to that light, unwilling to recall her past embarrassments or the Qin Xiaoyi who’d hidden a laugh behind his back but never truly remembered her.
Zhao Xiaorou, however, saw it differently: “Come on, you’re taking Ning Zechen’s word for it? He’s obviously a shallow player with more brawn than brains, just trying to mess with your feelings.”"Big breasts, no brains—what an accurate description." "He wasn't entirely wrong. I tested him, and he really didn't look at my face..."
"Funny. Li Ai, let me ask you—" Zhao Xiaorou snapped her fingers at Li Ai. "When you meet a girl you like, do you look at her face?"
Li Ai focused on frothing the flat white: "No..."
"Shy men naturally don't stare at girls." Zhao Xiaorou held an electronic cigarette between her lips, her eyebrows and eyes nearly lost in the vapor. "When I was on missions, Qin Xiaoyi barely glanced at me. Yet he pats your head and pins you against walls. If he doesn't like you, then he's brainwashing you. But since you're both acting, why not take advantage too? If he pins you, kiss him back. His skin is so fair, his lips so red—they must feel amazing."
"Zhao Xiaorou, smoking is prohibited indoors. And you just made a video days ago about how smoking harms health."
"It's electronic, what's there to fear? IQOS is hard to buy. Li Ai limped all the way to Japan to get it for me—how could I waste his kindness? Besides, there are no customers in the shop right now."
Li Ai placed two flat whites and a red velvet cake on the table: "Do your fans know you have two faces? Online, you're pure and cute, deeply in love with your husband, but behind the scenes, you argue and scheme against each other?"
Hu Xiu, who had been helping Zhao Xiaorou take photos while she struck endless poses, finally answered Li Ai, her eyes fixed seriously on him: "That's my persona."
At 5-6 PM on a weekday, Yuyuan Road was nearing closing time, and no one came to the café for coffee.
Zhao Xiaorou and Hu Xiu avoided the lunch and afternoon rush hours specifically to chat with Li Ai.
Yuyuan Road was full of Internet celebrities like Zhao Xiaorou, impeccably dressed, and Shanghai had no shortage of beauties.
But Zhao Xiaorou indeed carried herself with a certain air, just so that when recognized by fans, their photos together would shine brilliantly.
From Zhao Xiaorou, Hu Xiu learned the common tricks of Internet celebrities: everything from followers to engagement metrics was inflated, with only sales conversion revealing the truth.
Zhao Xiaorou loved gossip—after all, only the privileged could afford to be cutting: "Last year, I saw some so-called 'king' buy his way from 5,000 to 100,000 followers, even purchasing retweets and comments. Yesterday, I checked again—he’s at 1.5 million followers now, signed with an MCN, published a book, and landed ads with L'Oréal and Mercedes-Benz. Recently, he’s talking about going live, waiting to charge slot fees—no ROI guarantee, no real effort, and still acting entitled."
Before Hu Xiu could process this, Zhao Xiaorou was already lecturing her earnestly: "Only someone like Hu Xiu would work honestly without boasting—no wonder your salary never increases."
"Can you not drag me into this? Besides... are Internet celebrities really that successful?"
"They get criticized too. But small-time influencers love to pick fights and stir drama, understand? A public account with 5,000 followers claims 80,000; one critical comment requires three posts to clarify, refute, and whitewash. They thrive on it—it’s called living in the eye of the storm.Zhao Xiaorou finally finished editing her photos: "Though we say fame and fortune are trivial, and people shouldn’t be utilitarian, you have to admit—mastering the rules lets you live well. Especially for Internet celebrities: with followers, data, and a bit of controversy, you’ll never face rent problems like yours.""You're no different. Have a bit more confidence, approach Qin Xiaoyi with the mindset of being an unparalleled beauty. I simply don't believe he wouldn't remember you."
"Master the patterns... is that it..." Hu Xiu pondered thoughtfully.
"Exactly. It's the same with relationships—having goals, ambition, and assertiveness feels much better than those who just give endlessly without expecting anything in return.
Think about the unforgettable love stories in classic literature and films—men's wealth, sincerity, groveling...
Aren't they all taken by women with tactics? Even in terms of devotion, isn't Wang Jiazhi more memorable than Bai Ling?
Even if someone as bland and ordinary as Wang Guangming proposed to me, wasn't it because he saw my fans could make money?
I refuse to believe Qin Xiaoyi is completely unapproachable, oblivious to wealthy beauties, and only notices unconfident women like you. What would he gain? Poverty alleviation?"
Seeing Hu Xiu's discomfort, Zhao Xiaorou softened her tone: "Making that light sign last time was to leave an impression on him. Don't listen to Ning Zechen's nonsense—who brings a light sign when they go in?
I know it's embarrassing, awkward, but absolutely no one has done it before. But if you shrink back hiding in corners, he definitely won't remember you, especially since you don't even dare show your face."
"I didn't..."
"Then let me ask you this. It's been a week since we last went to Snowpiercer, right? Do you still remember Qin Xiaoyi's face?"
Hu Xiu fell silent. She thought vaguely, piecing together his voice and physique: "I sort of remember..."
"Li Ai, this might sting a bit, but—do you remember what your wife looked like?"
"Of course I do..." Li Ai sat at the next table, carefully changing guitar strings while tuning with GuitarTuna.
Over time, it seemed mentioning his wife's passing had become easier, with no trace of sorrow in Li Ai's response.
"See the difference?" Zhao Xiaorou finished her coffee and pointed at Hu Xiu's evasive eyes: "You don't dare look at him, so you can't remember his face either. Hu Xiu, though it sounds harsh, being memorable to the opposite sex comes from uniqueness. Everyone's pretty—what matters most is standing out, understand?
Throw away that obsession with marriage and reconsider what love really is. That tender, soaked, sticky, desirous, trembling, thrilling feeling—that's what you should give Qin Xiaoyi. That runaway fiancé of yours doesn't even deserve the word 'love'."
Li Ai finally chuckled from the side: "Eloquently put."
"Because only after marriage do you realize how boring stability is. My mind is filled with filthy sexual fantasies daily, but seeing Wang Guangming kills all desire." Zhao Xiaorou pulled out a pack of Nanjing cigarettes: "Life—so dull."
Daylight quietly yielded to night during Hu Xiu's contemplation. The air grew warmer with approaching summer heat. Taking the subway absentmindedly, Hu Xiu found herself at the train station. Ascending the steps, she moved through bustling crowds where skyscrapers pierced through clouds and mist, wet pavement reflecting umbrellas and hurried footsteps. Her aimless wandering stemmed from having nothing particular to do.
The rainy season had begun, dampness clinging to bare calves. In the sticky air, Hu Xiu crossed the pedestrian underpass beneath the overpass, pausing at the narrow street—the place where Qin Xiaoyi worked.She hadn't brought an umbrella. Strands of hair clung to her cheeks, which she tucked behind her ears as she stared at the emergency exit door. The mall had already closed for the night.
If the schedule was correct, Qin Xiaoyi would emerge from that door after finishing his final performance.
The damp air and fine rain seemed determined to merge with the darkness, paying no mind to the people hurrying through the rain or to Hu Xiu, whose vision was becoming blurred by the unexpected downpour.
Her long hair traced the curve of her collarbone down to her chest, where the rainwater seeped into her orange knit sweater.
As time passed, Hu Xiu no longer knew what she was waiting for, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe, as Zhao Xiaorou had suggested, that she was waiting for some soaked and sticky romance to appear.
A transparent umbrella suddenly opened above Hu Xiu's head. Startled, she took a step back and found Qin Xiaoyi standing there.
He was looking at his phone, his voice slightly hoarse: "It's late. Must be hard to get a taxi. Let me call you a ride home."
A female cast member called out from behind: "Minister Qin, your girlfriend came to pick you up? She's all drenched - you're being awful!"
After the greeting, the world returned to stillness. Qin Xiaoyi held the umbrella with one hand while pulling out a tissue with the other. He gently placed it over Hu Xiu's forehead and eyebrows, giving her a clear view of him.
Unlike the Minister Qin from the play, this Qin Xiaoyi displayed a careless sort of gentlemanliness - no casual teasing, just politely helping her dry the rain while turning his face away from her.
While waiting for the car, Hu Xiu wiped away escaped tears beneath the tissue covering her vision, thinking: Please, let time slow down, just a little more.
Hu Xiu had once watched a rehearsal of "Waiting for Godot" at the drama club. At the time, she found the scene boring - two people squatting in a sparsely decorated setting, delivering monotonous lines that made one drowsy.
Years later, looking at Qin Xiaoyi's expressionless face made ambiguous by the glistening rain, Hu Xiu understood. "Waiting for Godot" was boring because it wasn't a scene where stories would happen. Waiting for someone destined not to come was a philosophical question, an absurd drama, having nothing to do with love.
But if someone were to pass by and witness this scene, adjusting the angle to hide Qin Xiaoyi's phone-holding hand, capturing only the gentle Qin Xiaoyi under the umbrella with downcast eyes and her own drenched, startled self - tense nerves overwhelmed by emotion, grievance, longing, jealousy, attachment...
Countless feelings soaked through and diffusing in the air - one would realize this was the most moving scene in an art film. The composition within the frame would be perfectly balanced by the night, buildings, lights, and figures. Love emerges suddenly, descending gently like rain, yet unmistakable to the audience.
And in this moment, she was the female lead.
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