She Said: A Passionate Kiss [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 27

Qiang Huai had just finished shooting the New Year magazine spread and saw a message from Gu Pingwan during a break.

 

She replied: “In Shanghai shooting a magazine. Heading back to Jin City tonight.”

 

Gu Pingwan quickly responded: “Okay.”

 

On this trip home, she had taken Mother Gu for another check-up—all indicators remained stable. Knowing that Gu Pingwan would be coming back, Mother Gu had gone out early in the morning to buy groceries.

 

With the Spring Festival approaching, the streets of Jin City were filled with all kinds of lanterns in vibrant red and green. Alleyways were lined with small shops selling Spring Festival couplets.

 

Gu Pingwan was eating with her mother when the latter placed a shrimp in her bowl and asked, “How long are you staying this time?”

 

“Until the fifth. Things are a bit busy at the institute,” Gu Pingwan replied vaguely, not going into detail.

 

Mother Gu didn’t probe further—most of their work was classified anyway.

 

“And how are things with that classmate of yours, Qiang Huai?” Mother Gu casually asked while eating stir-fried greens.

 

“Quite… quite good. Why?” Gu Pingwan found her mother’s tone oddly suspicious.

 

Mother Gu put down her chopsticks, her expression serious. “I saw the news. Just don’t bring her any trouble.”

 

“Mhm, I know where the lines are,” Gu Pingwan nodded, saying no more.

 

That night, Qiang Huai returned to Jin City and immediately messaged Gu Pingwan. With this trip marking the end of her work for the year, she had given her employees a holiday until the sixteenth day of the Lunar New Year—but she herself would be back to work by the fifth.

 

Gu Pingwan was washing dishes when the phone on the dining table lit up with a new message. Her mother, passing by to get water, noticed it.

 

“Qiang Huai messaged you,” she said respectfully, not touching the phone.

 

Gu Pingwan finished rinsing the last plate and dried her hands on her apron. “Okay.”

 

A little while later, she came out of the bedroom, freshly cleaned up.

 

“Mom, I’m going out to have a late-night snack with Qiang Huai,” she said, heading to the bathroom to dab on a little lipstick—something she rarely wore. Her fair and delicate skin hardly needed makeup; she was usually cooped up in the lab.

 

Mother Gu, watching TV in the living room, responded, “Most restaurants are closed by now. Tell her to come here, I’ll cook for her.”

 

That made sense. Most restaurant staff had gone home for the holidays; only a few local businesses were still open.

 

“I’ll check with her, see if she’s okay with that,” Gu Pingwan said, sending Qiang Huai a message.

 

Qiang Huai was in her walk-in closet, picking out an outfit. What should she wear out?

 

She saw the message and called instead.

 

“Would I be intruding on your time with Auntie?” she asked with a grin, trying to keep her voice calm.

 

Gu Pingwan shook her head at the phone and quickly said, “Of course not. There’s not much open anyway. Safer to eat at home.”

 

She imagined all the drunk chaos that came with the holiday crowds and couldn’t help but worry.

 

After agreeing, Qiang Huai touched up her makeup in front of the mirror. She dug out a few boxes of supplements and cosmetics from her suitcase—originally intended as New Year gifts for Gu Pingwan, but now the timing was just right.

 

Wrapped in a thick coat, Gu Pingwan waited downstairs, wearing those peach-pattern gloves. Children and aunties passed by, greeting her.

 

“Pingwan, you’re back! How’s your mom’s health?” asked one friendly aunt.

 

“Much better now. Thank you,” Pingwan replied politely.

 

The aunt liked her a lot and often used her as an example to educate her own children. “Good, good! I’ll bring you some homemade hotpot base for New Year.”

 

“Okay, I’ll bring you some dumplings in a few days.” Though not great at socializing, Gu Pingwan found the neighborhood aunties easy to talk to.

 

As the aunt walked away, Qiang Huai pulled up in her car.

 

She wore a short down jacket and two layers of thermal leggings. It rarely snowed in Jin City, but the winter wind cut right to the bone.

 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Gu Pingwan had her face blurred by her breath in the cold air—like she wasn’t quite of this world.

 

Qiang Huai parked and got out, carrying bags in both hands.

 

“Coming by to wish you an early New Year,” she said with a big smile, no mask on.

 

Seeing that, Gu Pingwan walked over and took one of the gift bags. “You brought so much stuff.”

 

“It’s New Year. Gotta bring something festive—and it’s not for you, it’s for Auntie,” Qiang Huai teased, flipping her hair with one free hand.

 

Through the cold air, Gu Pingwan caught her familiar scent—it seemed to warm the whole world.

 

As soon as they entered, they were hit with a mouthwatering aroma. Mother Gu was boiling various fresh ingredients in hotpot broth, like a personal spicy stew.

 

“Mom, we’re back,” Gu Pingwan called out.

 

Qiang Huai changed into slippers and followed her inside.

 

“Auntie, Happy Early New Year~!” she greeted sweetly.

 

Seeing such a pretty young girl, Mother Gu was visibly delighted. “Quick, come sit. It’s almost ready.”

 

“So sorry for the trouble at this hour,” Qiang Huai said, a little embarrassed.

 

“Oh, don’t say that. The ingredients are all fresh, and with this broth base, it’s quick to cook.”

 

Once they sat down, Mother Gu and Pingwan accompanied her for a bit of the meal.

 

Qiang Huai wasn’t shy about eating—who counts calories during the holidays?

 

“Xiao Huai, are you spending the New Year in Jin City?” Mother Gu asked, watching her eat with satisfaction.

 

“Yes,” she replied.

 

“Oh, with your parents?”

 

“They’re in Jiang City. They’ll come home to pay respects to our ancestors in a few days,” Qiang Huai answered, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

 

“So you’ll be spending New Year alone?”

 

Qiang Huai smiled, “Yeah. It’s been like that for years—I’m used to it.”

 

Gu Pingwan looked at her, heart aching a little. She knew some things about Qiang Huai’s background but couldn’t fathom how she’d made it out of those hardships so strong.

 

“That works out then—you two can spend time in Jin City together. Pingwan doesn’t have much on her schedule anyway.” Mother Gu’s words carried a hint of guilt; she’d often neglected Pingwan during past holidays and didn’t know how to make up for it now.

 

“Mm, I haven’t been to Biancheng before. Let’s go explore while we’re off?” Gu Pingwan offered.

 

She remembered seeing Qiang Huai post about wanting to see snow—but it rarely snowed in Jin City. The only place that did was high-altitude Biancheng.

 

Qiang Huai agreed without hesitation. Her parents hadn’t contacted her lately; she didn’t know their plans this year.

 

“Oh, and that lipstick you gave me—it’s so pretty. I really like it.” Mother Gu pointed to her lips. “Look, this is the shade.”

 

“As long as you like it! If you run out, just tell Pingwan—I’ll bring you more,” Qiang Huai smiled, scooping another bowl despite having wiped her mouth earlier.

 

“Don’t be so polite with me,” she added. “Or it’ll feel too distant.”

 

Mother Gu waved her off, “I’ll pay you. My friends are asking where to buy it too.”

 

Gu Pingwan gave Qiang Huai a look, signaling her to just agree.

 

Qiang Huai took a sip of the red broth, “Okay, Auntie.”

 

“And take some hotpot base home. Our relatives gave us too much—we can’t finish it all.”

 

…

 

After the meal, they washed the dishes together.

 

“Chief Engineer Gu, don’t tell me you planned this all along?” Qiang Huai teased while drying plates.

 

Gu Pingwan ducked her head, lashes fluttering. “No, I didn’t.”

 

“Really? Let me see.” Qiang Huai leaned in close, tilting her head just right to gaze up at Pingwan.

 

Pingwan’s grip on the dish tightened, her breath held. “I… I’ve wanted to go for a while.”

 

Her ears turned red the moment she finished.

 

“I see,” Qiang Huai smirked.

 

“Alright then. Let’s make that wish come true.” She put the plates away, wiped her hands, and casually brushed Pingwan’s waist as she walked out.

 

At that touch, Pingwan froze like she’d been shocked, then absentmindedly wiped the sink and touched the spot where she’d been grazed.

 

…

 

The next morning, Mother Gu woke her up early, telling her to pack for her trip with Qiang Huai.

 

Groaning, Pingwan checked the time—only 7 a.m.

 

Looking in the mirror at her dark circles, she yelled from the bathroom, “Mom! Is Qiang Huai your daughter or what?!”

 

Mother Gu slurped her noodles. “If she were, that wouldn’t be bad either.”

 

Qiang Huai had gotten up at 6:30 to do her makeup—her stylist was on holiday, so she had to do it herself—and packed plenty of stuff.

 

The trip to Biancheng would take two hours.

 

The town was still relatively undeveloped and retained much of its local character. Most shops were family-run by locals.

 

Qiang Huai pulled up to Pingwan’s building, sipping soy milk and wearing the gloves Pingwan had knitted for her.

 

Pingwan came down also wearing gloves. The two looked like they were in matching outfits—both in cream-colored down jackets.

 

“Morning, Chief Engineer Gu,” Qiang Huai greeted, pulling out shao mai and fried dough sticks. “Here, have some breakfast.”

 

Her backseat was full of fruit and drinks for the trip.

 

Pingwan buckled up and accepted the food naturally. “Thanks.”

 

“I heard it snowed in Biancheng—maybe we’ll catch some today,” Qiang Huai said, turning the wheel.

 

“Should be able to.” Pingwan took a bite—it was still warm.

 

They chatted and laughed all the way, making the long drive fly by.

 

Upon arrival, they stepped onto the village’s asphalt roads. Snow lay thick on the rooftops.

 

A cold wind blew as they stepped out.

 

“Are you cold?” Qiang Huai asked, rubbing her gloved hands together.

 

Pingwan shook her head. “The air’s really fresh. I’ve been in Jin City for years and never came here.”

 

“This is said to be the Biancheng from Shen Congwen’s novel,” Qiang Huai explained, pouring hot water from a thermos.

 

Pingwan took a sip. “Our middle school teacher used to make us copy lines from it.”

 

“Which one was your favorite?” Qiang Huai asked, drinking from the same cup lid.

 

After a moment, Pingwan said, “‘The sun did not fail us, so we must not fail the sun.’ That’s the first one I wrote down.”

 

“I never copied anything in middle school. No wonder I didn’t get into Tsinghua,” Qiang Huai joked.

 

Pingwan smiled quietly.

 

“Of course, another reason I didn’t get in—I was drinking black coffee since I was seven or eight, thanks to my mom. Piano in the morning, calligraphy in the afternoon, and a cup of coffee at noon. It fried my brain,” she said, making them both laugh.

 

“You sure know how to make excuses,” Pingwan said as they strolled past quaint wooden shop signs.

 

Distant mountains were dusted with snow, treetops still green—a painting come to life.

 

To get to the heart of the village, they had to take a boat. It was moved manually along chains.

 

The place wasn’t crowded. Most people were locals or returning for New Year. Qiang Huai didn’t wear a mask.

 

They sat on the boat, which pushed through scattered ice chunks, sending slivers rippling.

 

“How did you know I wanted to come?” Qiang Huai asked out of nowhere.

 

Pingwan feigned ignorance. “I just wanted to come. It wasn’t because of you.”

 

“I saw you looking at my Space log.”

 

“I clicked by accident!” Pingwan looked away, avoiding her gaze.

 

Just as she was scrambling for an excuse, the boatman said they’d arrived.

 

She exhaled in relief, but caught Qiang Huai looking at her with a smile.

 

“Let’s go,” Qiang Huai said, mischievous eyes giving nothing away.

 

She stepped off first. When the boat rocked as Pingwan followed, Qiang Huai quickly steadied her.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Their gloved hands masked any warmth.

 

“You two twins?” the boatman asked, grinning.

 

Pingwan froze. Qiang Huai quickly nodded. “Something like that.”

 

“Rare to see twins still dressing the same at your age,” he chuckled.

 

Qiang Huai stifled a laugh. Pingwan was stunned.

 

Inside the village, more locals appeared. Still, it wasn’t touristy.

 

“Are we dressed a bit too similarly today?” Pingwan asked.

 

“You just wanted to wear a couple outfit with me, huh?” Qiang Huai teased.

 

“I didn’t even know what you were wearing!” Pingwan pouted.

 

“You must’ve spied on me from upstairs,” Qiang Huai said, snapping pictures.

 

The old-style buildings were charming.

 

“I couldn’t even see your car from upstairs. My mom spotted it while hanging clothes!” Pingwan protested.

 

Qiang Huai turned and took a photo of her. “See? You totally peeked.”

 

“Let’s take a selfie?” she suggested, wiggling her fingers.

 

Blushing, Pingwan leaned in. “Do I look good from this angle?”

 

“Of course,” Qiang Huai said, pulling her close by the shoulder.

 

Honestly, she was a little nervous too.

 

After the photo, Pingwan pulled away. “Let’s keep exploring.”

 

Qiang Huai glanced at the photo, then at Pingwan walking ahead.

 

They had lunch in the village—local Tujia dishes, more natural than city fare.

 

They bought matching pendants with the quote: “This person may never return, or maybe will tomorrow.”

 

“This fan is nice,” Qiang Huai said. “Let’s get it for Auntie.”

 

Before Pingwan could reply, a loud voice interrupted.

 

“Ahhh, are you Qiang Huai?!”

 

Everyone turned. Qiang Huai smiled politely. “Yes.”

 

“Can I get a photo with you?!”

 

“Of course.”

 

The girl glanced at Pingwan. Without waiting, Pingwan smoothly took her phone and gloves and snapped the picture.

 

“Thank you thank you! I’ve liked you forever, Qiang Huai! You’re amazing!”

 

Only after calming down did she notice their matching outfits and gloves. Remembering online gossip, she whispered, “No matter who you like—I’ll always support you!”

 

Qiang Huai chuckled. “Thank you. See anything you like? I’ll buy it for you.”

 

She picked the same pendant and skipped home gleefully.

 

They met a few other fans—Pingwan always helped take the photos.

 

As they prepared to leave, it began snowing—thick, fluffy flakes casting a magical filter over the village.

 

Back in the car, they were both exhausted.

 

“I wish every day was like this,” Qiang Huai sighed.

 

Despite being a star in the city, nothing beat this peace.

 

Pingwan agreed. “Then let’s come every year?”

 

“I’m really busy. Where would I find the time?”

 

“True,” Pingwan mumbled, clearly disappointed. She’d thought they belonged in this quiet world—but it was just an illusion. A fleeting utopia.

 

Qiang Huai started the engine. “But… if it’s for Gu Pingwan, I’ll always have time.”

 

Pingwan paused, her mind clearing. She had overthought it.

 

“Okay.”

 

Back in town, Qiang Huai dropped her off but didn’t go upstairs.

 

When she got home, she saw a message from Sister Qin.

 

Someone had posted pictures of Qiang Huai in Biancheng—though Pingwan’s face wasn’t visible, their matching clothes and gloves were obvious.

 

Qiang Huai zoomed in. “Good thing I’m pretty—looks good from every angle.”

 

Skirt Skirt messaged:

 

“You went to Biancheng without me?!”

 

“I’m seriously mad!!”

 

Qiang Huai sent her a red envelope.

 

“Coming to Jin City for New Year?”

 

Skirt Skirt had moved to Jiang City and focused on creating, tuning out online gossip.

 

“Of course,” she replied.

 

After a few more messages, Skirt Skirt teased:

 

“You still haven’t locked down Gu Pingwan after all these years. Is she that hard?”

 

Qiang Huai: “What do you mean locked down?”

 

Skirt Skirt: “I mean in bed! I’d have jumped her ages ago. You two are so slow—I’d still fast-forward your drama on 3x speed.”

 

Qiang Huai sent knife emojis. “Don’t disrespect my Wanwan!”

 

Skirt Skirt replied with a ‘pinky of contempt’ image. “It’s a natural need! Hurry up while I still have money to give you wedding gifts.”

 

Qiang Huai didn’t reply.

 

She posted a photo from Biancheng on Weibo with the caption: “The sun did not fail us, so we must not fail the sun.” She carefully avoided posting any with Pingwan.

 

Fans praised her beauty and asked for the location to visit.

 

Some searched for her gloves, hoping to buy them—but the results online were either ugly or completely different.

 

People began asking where she got them. One sharp-eyed user connected them to a photo on Gu Pingwan’s old high school blog—the same gloves.

 

That blog post had been about missing her father.

 

Upon closer inspection, Qiang Huai’s gloves appeared hand-embroidered, while Pingwan’s old ones looked mass-produced.

 

User: “I think there’s something more going on here. Wasn’t this the same woman seen at a hotel with Qiang Huai before?”

 

Fan: “Stop overthinking. Girls having matching stuff is totally normal.”

 

User: “Yeah, me and my friends match sometimes too.”

 

Bystander: “SOS, look at this [image]. Is this socialist sisterhood?”

 

The photo showed Qiang Huai holding Gu Pingwan in her arms, seemingly kissing her forehead.

 

Qiang Huai saved it instantly. “How can a mistaken angle still be this romantic?”

 

Commenter’s hot take: “Is this really socialist sisterhood? Because I’m pretty sure Zhen Huan and Shen Meizhuang never kissed on the forehead.”