She Said: A Passionate Kiss [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 39

Qiang Huai took the breakfast from Gu Pingwan’s hands. “You’re up so early.”

 

“I’m meeting you today, aren’t I? Of course I had to wake up early.” Gu Pingwan said that and paused—why did that sound so flirtatious?

 

“Come inside,” Qiang Huai said as Gu Pingwan walked up to her. “Are you still coming to the set with me today?”

 

Gu Pingwan changed her shoes and sat at the dining table. “Sure.”

 

“Qun Qun’s not up yet. Have you eaten?” Qiang Huai took out two cups of soy milk and sniffed one cautiously.

 

“It’s not fermented soy milk,” Gu Pingwan said as she took the cup meant for her. She found Qiang Huai’s expression hilarious—this whole scene reminded her of their high school days.

 

Back then, Gu Pingwan used to bring homemade shumai to class. Qiang Huai had once asked, “Is that good?”

 

“Wanna try a bit?” Gu Pingwan offered her one from the bag, handing it to Qiang Huai, who sat in front of her.

 

Qiang Huai had taken it, sniffed it near her nose, and asked, “You didn’t poison this, did you?”

 

Gu Pingwan had just bitten into one of her shumai and ignored her.

 

“This is pretty good. I’ll get you some bread from the tuck shop later to pay you back,” Qiang Huai had said on her own.

 

Now, pulled back from the memory, Gu Pingwan said, “This shumai can’t possibly be homemade, right?”

 

Qiang Huai would later find out that the shumai Gu Pingwan had given her that day were ones she’d made and frozen ahead of time—she would prepare meals for ten days in advance, freeze them, and just reheat them for breakfast or lunch.

 

“Of course not, I got it from the canteen at work,” Gu Pingwan replied. She’d thought Qiang Huai wouldn’t remember such tiny things.

 

But Qiang Huai remembered. Meanwhile, there were many things Gu Pingwan had already forgotten—except the moments with Qiang Huai. Those remained vivid.

 

“Wow, I never thought a low-achiever like me would get to eat shumai from the Chinese Academy of Sciences!” Qiang Huai waved her shumai dramatically. “If I eat this, do you think it’ll enlighten my brain? Maybe I could get into your PhD program or something?”

 

Gu Pingwan gave her a dumbfounded look, as if searching her mental dictionary of 5,000 years of culture for a proper comeback.

 

Qun Qun got up again to get water, rolled her eyes, and muttered, “I’m afraid if you really do get enlightened, I’ll be tempted to stuff poop in your brain.”

 

Qiang Huai: “…”

 

Gu Pingwan:”…”

 

“By the way, there’s a class reunion on Labor Day. Are you two going?” Qun Qun chugged a glass of water and poured another.

 

Qiang Huai and Gu Pingwan exchanged glances. When they’d gone to give a speech to the graduating class at their old high school, someone had mentioned it in the class group chat. Qiang Huai had been busy and forgot to reply.

 

“I probably won’t have time,” said Gu Pingwan.

 

“I’ll see how things go,” said Qiang Huai while chewing her shumai.

 

Qun Qun nodded and walked toward the bedroom with her cup. “Alright, both of you acting all high and mighty—guess I won’t go either.”

 

Only the two of them were left in the living room. Qiang Huai remembered how Gu Pingwan had left all the class group chats after graduation, and asked, “Why did you stop keeping in touch with everyone after we graduated?”

 

Gu Pingwan held her soy milk tightly. The edge of the paper cup was getting frayed from how her fingers rubbed it. Her eyes looked evasive.

 

“There was no need to.”

 

Qiang Huai was puzzled. Back in high school, everyone got along fine. She didn’t remember Gu Pingwan offending anyone.

 

“Why? Did something happen?” Qiang Huai asked gently, though she sounded a bit anxious.

 

“It’s nothing,” Gu Pingwan still refused to say.

 

Qiang Huai grew a little frustrated. “Wanwan, you can tell me. Maybe I can help smooth things over.”

 

“Smooth over? What needs smoothing over?” Gu Pingwan looked up at her, eyes slightly wet.

 

Now Qiang Huai was even more confused. “Did someone bully you?”

 

“No. That was all so long ago. And it’s not your concern,” Gu Pingwan said, standing up and placing her soy milk on the table. “I’ve got something to do, so I won’t go to the set with you today.”

 

“You finish eating.” With that, she left the villa.

 

Qiang Huai sat there, frozen. She couldn’t figure out why Gu Pingwan had been fine just a moment ago and now suddenly left. She also had no clue what had happened back when they graduated.

 

At the set, Qiang Huai quickly fell into character when facing the camera, but once the scene ended, she slumped. She sent Gu Pingwan several messages—no reply.

 

That evening, after wrapping up and returning to the villa, Qun Qun was packing up to leave.

 

Qiang Huai stopped her. “Do you know what happened to Gu Pingwan around graduation?”

 

Qun Qun was being tugged all over the yard by DotDot, their dog. She panted, “Her? She’s always been a top student. What could’ve possibly happened?”

 

“She quit all our class and group chats. You didn’t notice?”

 

“Oh, I found out later,” Qun Qun said, noticing something was off with Qiang Huai. “Why? Did you two fight?”

 

“No. I asked her about the class group chat this morning, and she got kind of upset. Her eyes were all red.” Qiang Huai watched the dog running in the yard, feeling annoyed.

 

Qun Qun finally got DotDot into the car. “Then ask her directly. I hate it when drama leads in shows don’t speak up. It’s so exhausting. Don’t be one of those people—after watching forever, they still can’t say a single sentence.”

 

Qiang Huai thought she had a point. If Gu Pingwan was holding onto something painful from the past, maybe she could help her get past it.

 

Back then, she’d asked Gu Pingwan whether she kept in touch with any high school friends. Gu Pingwan had said no.

 

At the time, she thought it was just her personality. But after today, it seemed like there was something more.

 

“Where are you off to this time?” Qiang Huai asked as Qun Qun got in the car.

 

“Lhasa. I wanted to go when I graduated but never did. If I don’t go now, it won’t mean the same anymore.” Qun Qun shut the car door, whipping her hair around like a carefree spirit.

 

Qiang Huai reminded her to stay safe and transferred her some money.

 

“You’re like my mom or something,” Qun Qun grumbled, but she was delighted inside—who wouldn’t want a bestie like that?

 

“Don’t spend it. That’s DotDot’s dog food fund,” Qiang Huai said as she patted the dog’s head.

 

Qun Qun scoffed, “Sure. With 200,000 yuan worth of dog food, I’ll fatten him up like a pig.”

 

They joked around for a bit before Qun Qun drove off into the night.

 

Qiang Huai thought about what Qun Qun had said. If she didn’t go after Gu Pingwan now, time would slip away and meaning might fade.

 

Just like how Qun Qun wanted to visit a place at twenty—going at thirty wouldn’t be the same. Life would’ve already worn her down.

 

She called her driver and bought duck neck, pig trotters, and a bottle of rice wine.

 

Standing outside Gu Pingwan’s dorm at the research institute, she saw there was still no reply.

 

She picked up her phone and sent a few more messages:

 

“I said something wrong. Honestly, standing down here in the cold is what I deserve.”
“But the duck neck, pig trotters, and rice wine are innocent.”
“Maybe you could come down and take them in?”

 

Gu Pingwan was reading when she got the message. She immediately ran to the balcony and looked down—sure enough, there was a slim figure under the streetlamp. She quickly threw on a coat and ran downstairs.

 

“Come to take them in?” Qiang Huai asked with a smile, her eyes filled with Gu Pingwan.

 

Meeting her gaze, Gu Pingwan felt a little embarrassed. She realized her reaction that morning had been too much—she shouldn’t have treated Qiang Huai like that.

 

But she still couldn’t face what was buried deep in her heart.

 

“Mm, thanks.” When Gu Pingwan saw Qiang Huai’s smile, all the gloom in her heart vanished.

 

They sat down on a bench in a small grove and started eating the duck neck, wearing gloves. They shared the bottle of rice wine, taking turns drinking from the mouth.

 

Then Gu Pingwan finally began to talk about high school. “Actually, I’ve never been confident—quite the opposite. I’ve always felt inferior.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Qiang Huai took a swig from the bottle.

 

Gu Pingwan waited until she was done and then took two big gulps herself. “You know I come from a single-parent family. Back in junior and senior high, my mom didn’t take much care of me. Sometimes I had to stitch up my own torn socks and shoes.”

 

“I always felt like I didn’t belong. Most of the time I only participated in class activities because you invited me. I knew you meant well.” Her eyes shimmered with tears.

 

Qiang Huai remembered that Gu Pingwan always wore clean uniforms and spotless white sneakers. You couldn’t tell she came from hardship.

 

“When I met you in high school, I felt like we lived in different worlds.”

 

“Meeting you again now feels like a dream. I never imagined we’d reconnect.”

 

“I’ve worked hard these years so my mom could live with dignity,” Gu Pingwan choked up. “After graduation, Yu Lele came to me—right after you gave me that umbrella. He told me to stay away from you.”

 

There were things she hadn’t said—Yu Lele had even threatened her, forced her to quit all the class groups, and not contact Qiang Huai again. She’d also realized then that Yu Lele had feelings for Qiang Huai.

 

Those long-buried memories came rushing back, but today she’d finally sorted them out. Her teenage inferiority complex might linger forever, but meeting someone as radiant as Qiang Huai had cleansed those rotten corners of youth.

 

She knew Qiang Huai liked her—like that summer day when she carried her on her back to the infirmary, the sunlight falling on her shoulders, cicadas drowned out by the pounding of her heart. Young love couldn’t be hidden.

 

When Qiang Huai did that kind of thing… well…

 

Gu Pingwan didn’t know whether her feelings for Qiang Huai were the redemption of a friend or the love of a girlfriend.

 

She felt too unworthy to believe Qiang Huai could like her. Romance in novels never felt real to her, and to this day, she still didn’t understand her own heart.

 

Qiang Huai was stunned. “Did Yu Lele ever hurt you?”

 

After what had happened with An Linlin, she’d already found out Yu Lele had feelings for her. She hadn’t expected it to affect Gu Pingwan too.

 

“No. And he’s already paid for what he did. I’ve thought about it a lot today, and I’ve finally come to terms with it,” Gu Pingwan said, cheeks flushed like a shy girl after another sip of wine.

 

“In my eyes, you’ve always been radiant,” Qiang Huai said. “My girl, you can do anything. Become anyone. I’ll always be by your side.”

 

As she spoke, Gu Pingwan’s head gently fell against her shoulder.

 

Apparently drunk, she mumbled, “Qiang Huai, you know? I don’t like anything in this world… except you. You’re the only exception.”

 

Qiang Huai’s breath caught. Was that… a confession?

 

She looked down at the girl leaning on her shoulder—maybe it was just drunken talk.

 

Still, after hearing Gu Pingwan’s story, she decided to be even better to her. This girl had grown wild in a world full of thorns, pushing her way through hard times.

 

Even if her shoes were ragged, the road ahead was theirs to walk together.

 

Under the streetlamp, their shadows stretched long. Surrounded by amber light, the two of them quietly held the world at bay, their love tucked inside salty snacks and sweet, stinging rice wine.

 

…

 

That night, Weibo was exploding with gossip, as usual for a Sunday evening. One trending topic: #QiangHuaiHighSchoolClassmate.

 

The picture showed Qiang Huai during the infamous “period incident,” with Gu Pingwan beside her, holding a thermos anxiously like an old-timey husband waiting outside the delivery room.

 

Someone had even dug up Gu Pingwan’s Weibo—her most recent post was a retweet of Qiang Huai’s earlier statement.

 

Netizens swarmed her page.

 

User 1: “I’ve always felt there’s something between them. Just waiting for the official announcement~”

 

Fan 1: “They’re just besties! I bathe with my BFF all the time 🙄”

 

Anti-fan 1: “Straight girls pretending to be gay just to stay relevant. Gross.”

 

User 2: “Look at all these ‘coincidences.’ Even novels wouldn’t go this far! [pic1][pic2]”

 

The photos showed the peach-patterned gloves Gu Pingwan had knitted for Qiang Huai. That old Weibo post had surfaced before too.

 

Others had taken candid shots of the two together. Once compiled, the evidence felt pretty convincing.

 

Gu Pingwan’s Weibo account got flooded with attention—but mysteriously, the trending tags about her vanished from the platform.

 

It seemed like someone—or something—had intervened. Perhaps her workplace had stepped in. Her Weibo bio stated she worked at the Chinese Academy of Sciences Software Institute. Maybe digging deeper would reveal sensitive information.

 

Meanwhile, Gu Pingwan was still asking for more drinks. Qiang Huai gave in.

 

Not knowing how to get into her dorm at the institute, Qiang Huai just booked a nearby hotel room.

 

After helping her inside, she looked at her phone and double-checked the wine she’d bought—it was only 12% alcohol. Why was Gu Pingwan this drunk?

 

She remembered the way Gu Pingwan had gnawed on her neck earlier and got nervous—what if she got playful again? She had filming the next day and couldn’t risk leaving marks.

 

Qiang Huai tucked her in and covered her with the blanket. Her phone buzzed in her bag.

 

“Qin-jie, what’s up?” she answered.

 

“Someone’s digging up your classmate’s info again,” Qin-jie teased.

 

“Has it been taken down?” Qiang Huai asked quickly.

 

“Didn’t even need me. The topic disappeared before I could do anything. Cleaner than we ever manage.”

 

Qin-jie was puzzled too. The only explanation she could think of was that Gu Pingwan’s workplace had stepped in. Her verified Weibo bio listed the Chinese Academy of Sciences, so any deep digging might have exposed information that couldn’t be made public.

 

And Gu Pingwan’s follower count had skyrocketed. Many were now actively checking into her account.