She Said: A Passionate Kiss [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 5
After finishing their late-night snack, Qiang Huai and Gu Pingwan tidied up the dishes together. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, heads down and focused on cleaning. At first glance, they could easily be mistaken for a couple.
Qiang Huai placed the plates on the drying rack and casually asked, “What kind of project are you working on in Jin City?”
Gu Pingwan dried the dishes and replied, “A location-based software.”
“Were you sent over by your company?” Qiang Huai felt like her tone resembled a matchmaking interview.
“No, I quit my previous job,” Gu Pingwan answered obediently. “I came back and found this one.”
Qiang Huai raised an eyebrow. “So, where were you working before you returned?”
“The Institute of Software at the Chinese Academy of Sciences.”
The kitchen was nearly clean. Gu Pingwan pulled out two paper towels and handed them to Qiang Huai to dry her hands.
Qiang Huai nodded thoughtfully. “I remember you really liked astronomy in high school. Was your research at the institute related to that?”
“Mhm,” Gu Pingwan’s eyes sparkled. “I was working in the Key Laboratory of Space-based Integrated Information Systems, focusing on modeling and simulation of aerospace systems.”
Qiang Huai gave her a thumbs-up, eyes full of admiration and a touch of concern.
She could more or less guess why Gu Pingwan had returned—partly to take care of her mother, and partly because salaries for tech projects in the private sector were much higher.
Before seeing Gu Pingwan again, Qiang Huai had felt a strong sense of superiority. But now, she felt deeply ashamed.
She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. You have work tomorrow. I shouldn’t keep you from resting.”
“I’ll walk you downstairs,” Gu Pingwan said as she threw the used paper towels into the trash and went to grab the jacket Qiang Huai had lent her earlier.
“No need. Go wash up and get to bed.” Qiang Huai waved her hand and walked toward the door.
As she put on her shoes, Gu Pingwan asked, “I’ll wash the jacket and return it to you later, is that okay?”
“Sure, no rush,” Qiang Huai replied, standing at the door.
Then something occurred to her. “Why don’t we add each other on WeChat?”
“Okay.” Gu Pingwan reached for her phone, only to remember that it had gotten water-damaged and the screen was black.
Qiang Huai laughed. “No worries, we still have QQ.”
Gu Pingwan set the jacket down and quickly grabbed a piece of paper, writing a number on it. “This is my phone number—it’s also my WeChat. You can add me first. Once I buy a new phone, I’ll accept your request.”
Qiang Huai took the slip of paper. Scrawled across it was “Gu Pingwan: 131XXXXXXXX.” The handwriting was noticeably messier than in high school—maybe she was in a hurry?
“Alright, I’m off then,” Qiang Huai said as she opened the door and stepped out. Leaning against the doorframe with a playful pose, she added, “Good night, classmate Gu.”
Gu Pingwan stood at the door watching her leave. The moment the door closed, the house fell into silence, as if no one had ever been there. A wave of melancholy washed over her from head to toe.
She walked to the coffee table in the living room, glanced at the completed diagrams, then looked over to the planetary models on the TV wall. Sitting in the spot where Qiang Huai had just been, she lingered for a long time before finally getting up to wash and go to bed.
Qiang Huai arrived home at 2 a.m. She lived in a villa on the outskirts of Jin City—far from the city center, but quiet and secluded. Usually, she stayed in hotels while filming, but if the shoot was long-term, she’d buy a place locally.
Lying in her soft bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her mind was flooded with images of Gu Pingwan, making her subconsciously pull the covers tighter around herself.
…
Early the next morning, Qiang Huai was awakened by the clattering sounds of cooking.
It was Xiaoyu, come over to make breakfast.
Outside food was often unsafe, and Sister Qin had originally wanted to hire a private chef for Qiang Huai, but she refused. She didn’t like too many people getting involved in her personal life.
So Sister Qin spent a fortune sending Xiaoyu to train in both Chinese and Western cuisine. Xiaoyu had real talent—after just a few months, she could make quite a variety of fancy dishes. Still, Qiang Huai mostly ate simple boiled vegetables…
“Teacher Qiang! Hurry, hurry, come eat!” Xiaoyu’s voice rang through the house, loud enough to reach Qiang Huai’s ears despite all the barriers.
She opened her eyes and realized it was already noon.
After hastily washing up, she slumped down at the dining table, lifeless. “I’m giving you a break this month.”
Xiaoyu brought the dishes over. “Teacher Qiang, you’re not firing me, are you?!”
On the table were boiled broccoli, boiled shrimp, and buckwheat noodles with vinaigrette…
Qiang Huai looked at the food. “If you don’t make me some rich, meaty dishes soon, the company will be paying your severance tomorrow.”
Xiaoyu didn’t dare talk back. She silently opened her phone and spent several hundred yuan to order fresh ingredients via express delivery.
A few hours later, Qiang Huai was enjoying her long-awaited braised pork, happily strolling on the treadmill.
As she walked, she browsed Weibo.
The twelfth trending topic: #Woman Followed Home Late at Night and Assaulted by Man#.
Qiang Huai frowned slightly. Why were so many headlines written like this?
It could’ve been phrased as #Man Follows Woman Home and Assaults Her#, but they always made the victim the subject. Examples like this were everywhere.
She scrolled through the news. Many people were speaking out for the victim, and many others were criticizing the misleading headline.
The incident involved a woman who was followed on her way home from work. Just as she opened her door, the man forced his way in and assaulted her. She struggled for a long time before finally calling the police.
Even though her face was blurred and her voice altered during the interview, her despair came through clearly. She said that if she’d had the chance to report it sooner, or if someone had helped her, the perpetrator might’ve been caught much earlier.
But as the news faded from the spotlight, the trending topic began to fall. Some unknown force seemed to be suppressing it.
Qiang Huai asked Xiaoyu and the PR team to verify the authenticity of the report. Once confirmed, she reposted it with her main account.
Almost instantly, it shot up to number one on the trending list.
Numerous influencers and celebrities followed suit, including artists under her own company.
The local government’s official Weibo also released a statement saying the case was still under investigation, and a suspect had been identified, but other details were not being disclosed.
Incidents like this often brew silently in the dark, away from public view.
Xiaoyu scrolled through the negative comments aimed at Qiang Huai and fumed. “Teacher Qiang, every time we repost something like this, your haters attack you.”
Qiang Huai put down her phone and increased the treadmill speed, shifting from a walk to a jog.
She had spoken out on many issues before, and each time the haters swarmed her, but she was unfazed.
“I know.”
“Don’t those comments upset you?” Xiaoyu asked, feeling awful reading them.
Qiang Huai kept jogging, her breathing steady. “No.”
“How should I put this…” She pressed the speed button again, going from jogging to running. “The point of all this is to get society to pay attention. Whether they hate me or curse me, it all leads to the same outcome—more eyes on the issue.”
“True,” Xiaoyu nodded, looking at the calm and composed Qiang Huai with newfound respect.
Qiang Huai said no more, focusing on her run.
…
Gu Pingwan had spent the whole afternoon working. After successfully running the final version of the program, she called a team meeting.
“Take a look at the backend database,” Gu Pingwan said, pulling up the debugged program. “Based on the IP addresses we obtained through the public security bureau, we can accurately locate users.”
“After satellite positioning, we use the user’s IP as the Y-axis to establish the X-coordinate. Then, by returning the terminal data with a Z command, we can directly initiate programmable actions based on the user’s operation.”
The app they were designing was intended for complex environments. Most existing location services only operated in 2D, lacking the ability to gather 3D data. As a result, they often couldn’t obtain accurate coordinates for people or objects sending signals.
“Chief Engineer Gu, do you think the UI needs more optimization?” asked a woman from the team.
Gu Pingwan switched to the user interface. While she handled both frontend and backend programming, the simpler UI elements were done by others.
She used the mouse to scroll through the screen and spotted a flaw. “The refresh rate needs optimization. It’s best to make it adaptive so older devices are compatible too.”
“When running the program on a computer, there’s a lag of about 0.05 seconds compared to a phone. On mobile devices, that’ll cause noticeable delay, so we need to focus on that.”
The UI team members quickly jotted down her comments and got to work. Later testing confirmed the exact issue she had described, leaving the team amazed by her near-superhuman technical acuity.
By the time the meeting ended, it was already dinner. Gu Pingwan was summoned to the general manager’s office, where the advertising team was also present.
“Ah, Chief Engineer Gu, come on in, have a seat,” said the GM, Pei Yang. Dressed in a navy suit, he was 45 but looked barely over 30.
Gu Pingwan sat on the sofa across from Pei Yang. To her right was Xiao Li from advertising. Several folders were laid out on the coffee table.
“So, Chief Engineer Gu,” Pei Yang leaned forward and picked up a folder, “we’ve narrowed down a few potential app ambassadors and couldn’t decide who to go with. Thought we’d ask your opinion.”
Gu Pingwan nodded slightly and picked up a folder. “President Pei, I’m not that familiar with celebrities, you know that.”
As luck would have it, the file she picked up was Qiang Huai’s.
Their parent company was a major corporation with ample funding and a solid reputation. Working with a high-profile celebrity like Qiang Huai was highly feasible.
“Take a look at the profiles. I think these three are the most suitable,” Pei Yang said, pulling out two more. “Oh, and Qiang Huai’s is the one you’re holding. She’s also under consideration, though we’re not sure she’d accept.”
Gu Pingwan took the other two profiles. “Okay, I’ll take a look.”
The other two were veteran actresses with strong public goodwill, but they hadn’t been trending lately.
Qiang Huai, on the other hand, had both popularity and critical acclaim—clearly the best choice among the three.
All three were female and had spoken up for women and children, with strong records in public welfare. The parent company had worked with them before, so choosing any of them would be a safe bet.
Though Gu Pingwan had no direct experience with celebrities, from a sociological perspective, a spokesperson with public credibility was the ideal choice.
“What do you think? Don’t hold back,” Pei Yang said as he poured tea for both Xiao Li and Gu Pingwan.
Gu Pingwan, who read quickly, had already gone through all three profiles. “All things considered, Qiang Huai is the most suitable choice.”
Pei Yang slapped his thigh in agreement. “Xiao Li! See? I told you—Chief Engineer Gu and I are on the same page! Qiang Huai’s got the popularity, the work, and the public support. My daughter kisses her photo every day!”
“Not that I’m biased or anything.”
“But,” he added with a frown, “she is a bit pricey, and we’re not even sure she’d take the job.”
Gu Pingwan said nothing, lost in thought.
Xiao Li nodded. “Alright, President Pei. I’ll have the team contact Qiang Huai’s agency and send over the product and a letter of intent.”