Lady By The Pillow - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Phone Call (Part 2)

◎ I didn’t think it through ◎

Shi Qing didn’t delete Wei Jiuyi’s WeChat.

She had deleted the shared photos—the ones that couldn’t be kept. The only other thing she deleted was the chat history, which contained the little moments of their life together back then.

The chat interface was now empty, not a single message left.

And at this very moment, the entire gray and white screen held just one line.

【Little Cat: Teacher Shi, are you asleep?】

In the empty screen, this one sentence was as sudden and jarring as a knife, more eye-catching than a lone tree in the middle of a desert.

Her thumb, hovering over the screen, trembled slightly. She changed the contact’s name to “Wei Jiuyi,” then replied:

【Not yet, what’s up?】

At the top of the chat, “The other party is typing…” appeared instantly.

【Wei Jiuyi: Is it a good time for a call?】

Across the screen, Shi Qing could vaguely feel that sense of carefulness.

That cautiousness was abnormal. It was like someone who had stolen a string of expensive pearl necklaces, wanted to wear them, but was afraid of being discovered, so they went out wearing a cheap glass pendant instead. The anxiousness of theft was leaping within her, yet she had to pretend to be calm and maintain a dignified demeanor.

She didn’t know what Wei Jiuyi wanted, but the photo incident from the daytime bothered her. She wasn’t sure if she should take this call or not.

Refusing a photo during the day but answering a call at night—what did that make her? A hypocrite by day, secretly conspiring by night?

So she started typing in the chat box: “I’m afraid I’ll wake Xiao Ya. Maybe you could just text—”

Before she could type “what you want to say,” a call came in.

Shi Qing froze, swearing to herself that next time she’d just type “No.”

She wanted to hang up, but her thumb stopped short, hovering over the screen.

Shi Qing, what are you hesitating about?

Thinking a step back, they had been separated for over a year. After all this time, Wei Jiuyi had probably started a real relationship. Her self-conscious avoidance was just her being small-minded and judging a decent person.

In the end, she answered.

“Hello.”

Her tone was polite, like a regular colleague she had just met two days ago.

She was an actress; acting was her profession.

“Teacher Wei, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, Teacher Shi.”

Wei Jiuyi’s voice was equally light and polite.

“I bought a DVD of Teacher Lü Zhen’s stage play. It was a buy-one-get-one-free, so do you want the other one?”

“Which play?” Shi Qing couldn’t refuse any topic related to acting.

“Riding the Wind,” Wei Jiuyi said. “It came with a free copy of Autumn of 1920.”

“Both are great works.”

“Yeah, at lunch today, didn’t you say you wanted to learn from Teacher Lü? I had the same thought and bought the DVDs.”

Wei Jiuyi spoke without a pause, as if she had rehearsed it beforehand.

Stage acting is different from film and television acting. It requires actors to have loud projection and large movements. For two hours or more, they can’t have a single NG, a moment of laughter, or forget their lines.

The DVDs were live recordings of the performances. Shi Qing had bought many such recordings before, but Teacher Lü Zhen’s were almost always limited editions, and Shi Qing had only managed to get one.

A flicker of desire stirred within her. Shi Qing said, “I wanted to buy them before, but I checked online, and there were only 1,000 copies of these two plays nationwide. They’re all sold out.”

Wei Jiuyi had a solution: “Oh, they’re sold out on the official website. But a friend of mine bought a few sets for her collection. She changed careers and sold them to me.”

“Does she have any more?” Shi Qing asked.

“No. But it’s okay, I already bought them. Teacher Shi, whenever you want to watch them, I can lend them to you.”

Shi Qing thought for a moment: “Okay, thank you. I won’t be shy then.”

Wei Jiuyi quickly said, “That’s right, don’t be shy.”

Shi Qing said, “Okay.”

Wei Jiuyi also said, “Okay.”

The carefully prepared topic ended abruptly in a minute. The conversation suddenly became very brief, and after the exchange, silence fell. It seemed like both of them had more to say, but they were waiting for the other person to speak.

The most likely reason was that the only thing briefer than “Okay” was a period.

After a few seconds of silence, it was Shi Qing who broke it. She tentatively asked:

“Actually, was there something you wanted to talk about tonight?”

Wei Jiuyi was young, with a young person’s sincerity and pride. She needed an opening, and Shi Qing would always provide that opening.

On the other end of the line, she took a deep breath. The sound of her inhale traveled through the phone to Shi Qing’s ear, as if she were right beside her. Shi Qing waited without rushing her, until Wei Jiuyi had composed herself and said:

“The photo today, I didn’t think it through.”

The politeness from before was completely gone. The hardened shell crumbled, revealing the tender sprout inside.

It was direct, humble, and a little clumsy, just like before.

But it also had a maturity that didn’t belong to her age.

Wei Jiuyi said:

“I was just thinking about the photo and not much else. It only occurred to me later that the cast of Empress hasn’t been officially announced yet. If it gets leaked by fans, it could cause trouble and be hard to explain.”

She spoke reasonably, and also with a hint of humility.

She had wondered if there was a one-in-a-million chance that Shi Qing didn’t want to take the photo because she wanted to avoid her. Just as Lü Zhen had said, her feelings had uncontrollably spilled out of her eyes.

Perhaps this feeling had scared Shi Qing away.

But after a moment’s thought, she knew it was impossible.

Shi Qing was emotionless.

She was a piece of cloud, living in the sky. Even if she had seen Wei Jiuyi’s feelings, she wouldn’t descend to the mortal world, step onto the muddy fields, and get tangled up in worldly affairs with her.

The only reason she would avoid something was for that dream, that dream more important than herself, the dream she had chased with all her might throughout her life.

“It would make you sad if it affected your acting, right? This time, the Empress team is so good; this is an opportunity you can’t miss.”

Wei Jiuyi’s voice came through the phone, and Shi Qing felt a sense of relief.

She hadn’t misjudged her. Although Wei Jiuyi was young, she was quite mature in her thinking. Her considerations weren’t just about feelings but also about her career.

Shi Qing’s tone softened:

“Yes, the opportunity with Empress is hard to come by. So I’ll do my best to act in it.”

Wei Jiuyi quickly said, “I know. And it’s a historical drama. You always wanted to star in a historical drama with a power-struggle plot, and this time you’re finally making that dream come true.”

Shi Qing chuckled: “It’s not about making a dream come true yet. I need to finish acting and hand in this ‘report card’ for the audience to approve.”

Wei Jiuyi said, “You can do it. Your acting has always been evident to all.”

Shi Qing self-deprecatingly replied, “How so? Not many people watch my plays.”

Wei Jiuyi said solemnly:

“I watch every single one.”

After she said this, both of them fell silent as if something had struck them.

Wei Jiuyi quickly tried to fix it:

“I mean, I’m a member of the audience. There must be other people like me who support your work.”

Shi Qing took the hint and stepped down from the awkwardness: “Oh, is that so? That makes me feel better.”

Wei Jiuyi sat cross-legged on the bed, rubbing her knees. The fabric of her pajama bottoms was getting shiny from her friction.

“It’s getting late. I won’t bother you anymore. The training starts tomorrow, so get some rest.”

Shi Qing hummed in agreement: “You too. I heard the crew’s martial arts director is very strict. Be careful during training, and remember to balance work and rest. Don’t get too tired.”

Wei Jiuyi’s voice rose: “Definitely.”

Shi Qing said, “So, I guess that’s all?”

Wei Jiuyi bit her lip: “Mhm.”

After releasing her lower lip, she suddenly had an impulse and, before the other side could hang up, she spoke:

“A-Qing, wait.”

A-Qing.

She hadn’t called Shi Qing that in a very, very long time. The long-forgotten name was like a bird by a classroom window in childhood—it could summon every memory named “the past,” but she could never find that exact same bird again.

Shi Qing’s fingertips trembled. She froze for a moment but didn’t hang up.

“What is it?”

Wei Jiuyi took two deep breaths. Her voice was slightly strained, and as if by some strange force, she blurted out the words:

“What happened in the past is in the past. I was young and foolish back then. Please don’t take it to heart.”

Shi Qing replayed the sentence in her mind. Understanding Wei Jiuyi’s current situation, she reassured her:

“What’s past is past. Let bygones be bygones. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

A sigh of despondency came through the earpiece.

“That’s good. Then, get some rest. I’ll see you at the script reading tomorrow.”

Shi Qing smiled faintly: “Mhm, okay.”

The call ended. Her body felt light at first, but then it became heavy as if her limbs were filled with lead.

Shi Qing lay down on her bed, staring at the golden light from the ceiling lamp. The round light fixture looked like an ancient copper coin, emitting a warm, moist glow in the soft dirt.

Their year-long physical relationship had long been over. Even a deeply ingrained love should have faded after more than a dozen months of grinding by time, not to mention that there had been no love between them in the first place.

Their boundaries should have been clear, their actions respectable and open.

But why did her heart feel like a sealed can, its contents unknown, yet weighing heavily on her chest?