A Love Letter Written to You - Chapter 5
Chapter 5
There was expectation in Teacher Dong’s eyes—clearly hoping to hear a positive response from Leng Ying.
Leng Ying remained silent for a moment, then nodded slightly.
Although she disliked these social occasions, her mother wasn’t wrong—she did remember this Teacher Dong.
Back when the variety show was being recorded, Teacher Dong had visited the set to meet the kids. That child chorus in the ending theme… included her own voice.
It was all so long ago.
Leng Ying rarely brought it up herself.
Upon receiving Leng Ying’s confirmation, Teacher Dong looked even more delighted. To be remembered by such a talented junior was, to her, a personal validation—it made her feel young again.
“Your little Ying is very impressive,” Teacher Dong said, giving a thumbs-up. “So many new works in the past two years. I’ve listened to them—they’re quite good.”
“She’s still just a newcomer!” Leng Ying’s mother laughed. “You’re the senior here.”
Teacher Dong smiled slightly, as if understanding her meaning. “It’s only right for seniors to help juniors. Little Ying, if you have time, you should visit my studio. A lot of singers in the industry use my equipment.”
This party was dull and meaningless, but that sentence alone made it slightly bearable to Leng Ying. Say what you will—she was indeed a listener who admired Teacher Dong’s work. Visiting her studio would be a rare opportunity to learn.
She nodded in agreement. Seeing her response, Teacher Dong was even more pleased. “It’s been ages since the variety show ended. I haven’t seen you in so long. Other kids still message me during holidays.”
Though, her impression of Leng Ying was the deepest.
Leng Ying: “…”
She hesitated. Her mother had already stepped in to answer, “Ying had a bit of a situation back then, caused quite a stir… My husband and I decided to keep her out of the public eye for a while.”
Teacher Dong suddenly understood. “That makes sense. Now things are much better, so it’s good to socialize again.” She winked at Leng Ying, with a playful sparkle not unlike a younger person. “Your new song is very good. I have an artist under me who’d suit it perfectly—let’s talk later.”
Leng Ying handed over a business card. “My agent handles all business matters. You can contact her, I’ll let her know.”
Teacher Dong smiled. “Alright.”
She accepted the card and, holding her wine glass, wandered off to another part of the room.
Leng Ying’s mother stayed behind and whispered, “Since you’re already here, don’t let the effort go to waste.”
Leng Ying pretended not to understand. “I greeted everyone you asked me to. Teacher Dong was the sixth.”
“…I meant be more proactive,” her mother sighed. “We have resources at home. Not using them—isn’t that just foolish? Baby, you’re so pretty. If you were willing to act, you’d be famous by now. Since you’re not, I won’t force you, but lyrics and music are still part of the industry. Isn’t it good to know people?”
The same repetitive script again. Leng Ying was already sick of it. “Baby” was supposed to be a term of endearment, yet coming from her mother, it felt sickening and repulsive.
She hadn’t eaten anything at this banquet, yet she felt as if she’d swallowed ten pounds of greasy fat.
That thick, suffocating sensation climbed up her throat. Leng Ying wanted to say something but knew it would be pointless, so she let the feeling block her voice and stayed silent.
Her mother’s gaze seemed tinged with disappointment. Then someone called her name, and she responded, walking away in high heels that carried a sickly sweet perfume.
…She was gone.
Leng Ying stared at her mother’s retreating back.
She suddenly thought of a long time ago.
It was shortly after she had met Ji Yu. She was curled up in a hospital bed, unable to sleep under a cold ceiling. On her phone, Ji Yu was there to keep her company, listening to her complaints.
They hadn’t known each other long, but Ji Yu was an excellent listener. After hearing her out, Ji Yu said something childishly innocent that had shocked Leng Ying deeply.
To this day, she remembered it. Ji Yu had said it so lightly, as if it were a joke:
“Then I’ll run away with you, baby.”
Leng Ying liked being called “baby” by Ji Yu. But later on, Ji Yu stopped calling her that.
…Back to the present.
Leng Ying lifted a hand to her flushed cheek.
The back of her hand was ice-cold, making her face feel even hotter by contrast.
That so-called “runaway” was just a joke from the early days. Neither of them had brought it up again. Leng Ying shook her head, smiling wryly. How silly to recall something from so long ago… Maybe it was because Ji Yu was about to return to the country.
Laughter filled the banquet hall, but Leng Ying could no longer listen.
The moment she thought of Ji Yu, she no longer wanted to waste her life in that place. She downed the last sip of red wine in her glass and quietly left the party.
She had exchanged business cards with six people that night. Her mother wouldn’t press her further. Even if she found out Leng Ying had left early… so be it.
She got into the car driven by her manager, Qun-jie. The interior was quiet, with only the sound of air circulating.
Qun-jie was a reliable partner. As always, she didn’t ask about the networking inside. She simply opened the sunroof.
Leaning back in the rear seat, Leng Ying looked up at the fast-moving night sky.
“There are stars tonight.”
Qun-jie, focused on driving, replied casually, “Really? Want me to stop so you can take a picture?”
“No need,” Leng Ying said quietly. “Stars are beautiful just staying in the sky.”
There was no need to reduce them to a flat, two-dimensional photo. That could never fully capture their beauty.
Suddenly, she had a thought—she wanted to watch the stars with Ji Yu.
Just the two of them, sitting side by side under the night sky.
Stars twinkled overhead, fading into the dazzling lights of the city.
Qun-jie dropped her off at the entrance to her home. “Alright, go rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow about work.”
Leng Ying stated, “I gave your card out.”
“I know… Alright, I’ll come back in a couple of days.” Qun-jie already anticipated the incoming flood of business discussions. “Who did you give it to? Send me the list on WeChat later.”
“OK,” Leng Ying said, opening the car door. “Bye. Drive safe.”
“Don’t forget to drink some lemon water or something before bed, alright?” Qun-jie called after her. She only drove off once she saw Leng Ying wave.
The house was a bit quiet.
Leng Ying didn’t want to turn on the lights. In the moonlight, she made herself a hot drink in the dark, then collapsed into bed.
The next morning, Qun-jie’s WeChat messages were at the top of her inbox. Out of professional courtesy, Leng Ying opened them—even though she already knew what they were about.
It always happened after she attended a parent-arranged event.
As expected, Qun-jie’s message read:
Photos from last night’s party are trending. Avoid public outings for now—paparazzi will be swarming.
Leng Ying clicked the link. Multiple trending topics.
At the top was her mother. The professional photographer had captured her elegance, so different from the image in Leng Ying’s heart. Scrolling down, the comment section was flooded with her mother’s fans. The emojis and celebratory posters created a bland and soulless world.
Further down, her own name appeared. Someone had posted a GIF from last night, showing her side profile as she stood beside Teacher Dong, led by her mother. The resolution was poor, but the filters gave it a dreamy, hazy feel.
Some old fans of the variety show were nostalgic, amazed that so many years had passed. Others speculated that she might be entering the film industry—only to be refuted by her more informed fans, who explained that greeting a songwriter like Teacher Dong was normal. Some of her mother’s fans even extended their support to her out of loyalty.
So many chaotic voices.
Leng Ying let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Her follower count was rising rapidly too.
She closed Weibo, exhausted, and shut her eyes for a quick nap before considering Qun-jie’s message seriously.
She wasn’t someone who needed to go out often. In other words—she was a homebody. Going ten days or half a month without leaving the house was normal. Once she entered a creative phase, she went into complete seclusion.
So Qun-jie’s advice—”stay in for a while”—was effortless for her. In fact, she preferred it. Less attention, less stress.
…Except for one thing.
Leng Ying had to make it clear to Qun-jie:
Her friend was coming back. She had to go meet her.
“Friend?”
Qun-jie suddenly remembered. Yes—Leng Ying’s best friend from abroad. The one she’d heard about but never seen. Leng Ying had mentioned her before.
After a pause, Qun-jie asked:
Want me to arrange a car to pick her up?
Leng Ying insisted:
I want to go personally.
Qun-jie didn’t respond right away, so Leng Ying added:
I already promised her.
Knowing she wouldn’t be persuaded, Qun-jie relented:
Alright. But be prepared. Don’t go alone. Tell me in advance, and I’ll have Xiao Ye drive you—or I’ll go.
Xiao Ye was the assistant Qun-jie had assigned to Leng Ying, though she was rarely needed. Currently, Xiao Ye was on holiday for the Spring Festival.
That was acceptable. Leng Ying agreed.
Qun-jie finally exhaled in relief. For some reason, though, she felt a strange foreboding—that things might not stay peaceful moving forward… but it was a good thing.
Leng Ying had her own thoughts now. She was willing to express them—and that made Qun-jie happy.
That settled, Qun-jie reminded her again to inform her ahead of time. She would prepare a vehicle the paparazzi wouldn’t recognize.
Despite the online buzz, Leng Ying didn’t respond to the trending topics. Her Weibo had been inactive for a long time—the last post was promoting a new song.
Without the main figure showing up, the hype gradually faded—such was the nature of the internet.
Leng Ying crossed off the calendar, one day at a time.
At last, only one page remained before Ji Yu’s return.
She was supposed to arrive three or four days after New Year’s Eve, but her plans changed mid-journey, and the date got delayed a few days more.
Her return would be on the first day after the Spring Festival holiday.