Rapid Collapse (GL) - Chapter 7

Han Ning looked at Shen Xi’s anxious face, not understanding why she was so scared. She could only nod obediently.

Not long after, Shen Fengmei, who was pacing back and forth at the entrance, caught the security guard’s attention. She was questioned for a few minutes before reluctantly turning away and leaving.

Seeing her leave, Shen Xi let out a sigh of relief, turned to Han Ning, and put down her hand. She looked exhausted as she said, “Sorry…”

Han Ning, being so close, could see her face clearly and smell the soft, cool scent of roses on her. She cherished this brief moment of being alone with Shen Xi.

On the way back, Shen Xi kept glancing over her shoulder, afraid that Shen Fengmei would suddenly appear behind her. Now that she knew where she was, with her temper, she would never let it go so easily.

Next time, she might use the fact that she was Shen Xi’s mother to get in. As long as she made it into the neighborhood and said a few kind words to Xiaolin downstairs, he might, out of kindness and respect for elders, personally bring Shen Fengmei up to see her.

It was only a matter of time—maybe next week, maybe next month. But it would definitely happen at the moment Shen Fengmei felt desperate and her gambling addiction flared up.

Shen Xi didn’t dare think about it any further. She sat down by the flower bed, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead, still shaken.

Han Ning silently sat beside her. Driven by curiosity, she asked, “Is she… the one who made you leave the woods in that bad state before?”

Shen Xi was stunned for a moment. Seeing the concern in Han Ning’s eyes, she didn’t bother making up an excuse. She lowered her head and softly responded, “She’s my mother…”

As Shen Xi sighed and spoke slowly, her tone carried a mix of helplessness and resentment.

Han Ning was slightly shocked. She stared at her in a daze, feeling a pang of sympathy, wondering what that woman had done to make Shen Xi introduce her own mother in such a tone.

Han Ning didn’t react with exaggerated surprise or prying curiosity as Shen Xi had expected. When Shen Xi turned to look at her, she saw a look of pity and compassion in Han Ning’s eyes.

Shen Xi hated seeing that expression. She even questioned herself—why hadn’t she just made up an excuse instead of admitting that Shen Fengmei was her mother?

She stood up and said to Han Ning, “I… I have something to do. I’m going upstairs.”

Han Ning dazedly responded with an “Oh,” and watched her leave until her figure disappeared ahead.

Before long, the sweltering heat became unbearable, and Han Ning felt her skin getting sticky. She looked up at the sky, where dark clouds were rolling in, signaling an impending storm. She got up and left for home.

Not long after she returned to her room, her phone chimed. She opened it to check the message. It was from Shen Xi:
[Thank you for keeping me company.]

A simple five-word message appeared on the screen.

Normally, Han Ning would have been so happy that she’d roll around on her bed, blushing with excitement.

But today, she just felt a dull, heavy feeling in her chest.

She didn’t know Shen Xi’s past and didn’t feel right asking. But her instincts told her that Shen Xi must have had a difficult life.

Back then, Shen Xi had a nickname—”Keyboard Warrior.”

Not in a bad way, but as a compliment to her diligence.

She had always been on the website’s “hardworking” leaderboard, constantly writing stories without breaks, finishing one after another, as if she never rested. She was one of the rare authors who balanced both quality and productivity.

Han Ning vaguely remembered that Shen Xi had never once stopped updating her novels—until she suddenly disappeared for a whole year. Then, not long after, her novels resumed updating, and she had maintained a daily update schedule ever since.

But considering her current state, Han Ning couldn’t help but guess that something major must have happened during that missing year. Shen Xi’s real life must have been unhappy, and perhaps it was related to how she was now.

“What happened to Shen Xi that year…” Han Ning rested her chin on her hand, watching her cat Lightning play with a ball of yarn.

Thunder rumbled outside. In an instant, heavy rain poured down, washing over the greenery below.

Shen Xi stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the downpour with a serious expression. She felt uneasy, fearing that Shen Fengmei would suddenly come knocking. But that woman was her mother—finding her would be all too easy. When that day came, how would she deal with it?

Ever since she started writing novels, she had saved every penny from her earnings. She rarely socialized or spent unnecessarily. After years of effort, she finally bought her own apartment and built up some savings. It gave her a sense of security and, more importantly, the ability to break free from her mother’s control and exploitation, to live the life she wanted.

But she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Her only hope now lay in the adaptation of her novel, Nan Yan. If it succeeded, she would gain more fame and income, making it easier to leave this city behind.

She sat down, holding her cat in her arms, and closed her eyes, picturing a face—Nie Lan.

If Nie Lan played the role of Zhou Yan, Nan Yan would be a disaster. No one understood the fans of the original novel better than she did. The first step to success was replacing Nie Lan.

She picked up her phone and called Zhou Heyang. After a few seconds, he answered.

“Director Zhou, I need to talk to you about something.”

An hour later, Zhou Heyang parked his car, grabbed an umbrella, and walked through the rain into a restaurant near the film studio. Shen Xi sat by the window, watching him enter.

Frowning, Zhou Heyang took a sip of tea and asked, “What’s so important that you couldn’t say over the phone?”

Shen Xi hesitated for a moment, then said seriously, “Director Zhou, this is urgent. It’s about the casting for Zhou Yan…” She glanced at Zhou Heyang, took a deep breath, and continued in a firm tone, “Nie Lan is not right for the role.”

Zhou Heyang was silent for a moment, sipping his tea as he frowned in thought.

“I know replacing her will have consequences. But if we don’t—” she paused.

“If we don’t, what?” Zhou Heyang prompted.

Shen Xi whispered, “Then no one will pay for this drama.”

Zhou Yan’s character was one of the most beloved in Nan Yan—kind but not naive, smart and lively, full of energy like a fresh, juicy peach bursting with life. But Nie Lan’s image and personality were worlds apart from the character.

Hearing her words, Zhou Heyang’s heart skipped a beat.

Shen Xi, as the original author, understood the audience best. She had no reason to sabotage her own work.

After their discussion, Nan Yan’s official account announced the casting change the next morning. The replacement? A newcomer—Xu Lier.

The fans went wild with joy.