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When Shengmei returned to the Ode to Joy apartments after work, she found Qu Xiaoxiao lounging casually against the door, chatting idly with Qiu Yingying.
Yingying’s face was red with anger, clearly in the middle of an argument. The moment she heard the elevator ding, she ran over to Shengmei, pointing accusingly at Qu Xiaoxiao.
“Fan-jie, I don’t know why, but Qu Xiaoxiao came to give you makeup! She even said you agreed to it! Did you two make up or something? How could she possibly be so kind as to send you makeup?”
After delivering her complaint, Yingying leaned close to Shengmei’s ear and whispered,
“Fan-jie, I took a peek… There are big brands in there, the kind you never wanted to use before. Most of them are unopened!”
Shengmei patted her hand gently.
“Yingying, I already ran into Qu Xiaoxiao this morning on my way to work. We talked about this. She said she wanted to support me filming videos, so she gave me the products before they expired.”
Yingying frowned, still unconvinced.
She lowered her voice again, suspicion written all over her face.
“Fan-jie… could she have put something inside? What if she’s trying to ruin your face?”
Qu Xiaoxiao’s ears were sharp. She snapped,
“Qiu Yingying! Do you really think I’m that evil?”
“Yingying!” Shengmei added sharply, disapproving.
Though Yingying’s voice hadn’t been loud, it was clear enough. Startled by Xiaoxiao’s shrill retort, she immediately backpedaled, flustered.
“O-okay, okay, I was wrong to say that! Who would’ve thought you’d be so generous!”
Qu Xiaoxiao rolled her eyes, shoved the box of cosmetics into Shengmei’s arms, shot Yingying a glare, and stomped back into 2203.
Bang!
The door slammed loudly.
Yingying flinched at the sound.
Shengmei cradled the makeup and calmly explained,
“Yingying, what you said earlier would count as poisoning. I could sue her for that. And besides, Qu Xiaoxiao isn’t that stupid. That kind of thinking is a bit too extreme. Find some time to talk it out with her, just clear the air.”
Yingying nodded, chastened.
She hadn’t thought it through before blurting it out. The regret came as soon as the words left her mouth. Still, she looked at Shengmei in confusion.
“Fan-jie, weren’t you angry at Xiao Qu before? How come you’re not mad at her now?”
Shengmei set the makeup down in her room and slipped off her heels.
“I wouldn’t call it anger. I just don’t like the way she talks. Accepting her makeup, though, saves me money. I can use it for videos and cut down on expenses at the same time. Why wouldn’t I?”
Yingying understood, but deep down she knew—if it were her, she would never accept. Maybe she just wasn’t as mature as Shengmei.
When Shengmei opened the box, her eyes lit up. Everything was brand new, untouched, and all high-end. Skincare, foundation, eyeshadow, blush—everything was there. She couldn’t help but think: lowering her pride had been the right choice.
This saved her a fortune.
After removing her makeup, Shengmei started on her nightly routine—drafting scripts, laying out the cosmetics she’d need for the next recording, keeping them separate for easy access.
Before diving in, she took a quick look at the stock market. Bitcoin was performing well. She nodded in satisfaction.
Halfway through writing, her phone suddenly rang.
The moment Shengmei saw the caller ID—home—her mood sank.
From the time at the villa until now, she hadn’t thought much about her family. In her heart, she wanted nothing more than to draw a clear line. But this family was like a tangled ball of yarn: the more she tried to unravel it, the messier it became.
She answered anyway.
“Mom? What is it?”
Shengmei picked up the phone, still scribbling notes for her script, unwilling to lose momentum.
On the other end, her mother’s voice came, cautious but still circling around the point.
“Xiaomei, how have you been in Shanghai lately? Is work going well? Have you been eating properly? These days, all the young girls just want to be thin, not caring about their health. You mustn’t be like them…”
“Mom, just say what you want. I’m busy.”
Shengmei cut her off, not wanting to waste time on empty pleasantries.
Her mother faltered, then went straight to the point.
“Xiaomei, has your salary come in yet? Why haven’t you sent money home? Your father and I are running out of living expenses.”
At that, Shengmei immediately thought of something important—her own rent for 2202 was about to go up in just a few days.
“Xiaomei? Why aren’t you saying anything? Did something happen?”
Her mother’s voice grew urgent at her silence. But Shengmei knew—it wasn’t a worry for her well-being. It was fear that if she had an accident, the flow of money would stop.
She shifted the phone to her other ear, settling into a calmer tone.
“Mom, based on the cost of living in Nantong, the 2,500 yuan I send every month is more than enough. In fact, it should last you and Dad two or three months. Yet you still ask me for more every single month. Let me make this clear today: from now on, I’ll only give you 1,500 yuan a month. That’s plenty for both of you to live on in the hometown.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Right now, it’s not just you and Dad I’m supporting—I’m also raising Fan Shengying’s son, Leilei. Mom, tell me, why should I? From now on, you’ll get 1,500 yuan a month, no more. If you keep calling to demand extra, it’ll depend on my mood. And if I’m not in the mood, I’ll block you and never pick up again. Think it over.”
What she didn’t say aloud was this: the down payment for Shengying’s house had been hers, and she had been the one paying the mortgage, too.
She was the so-called pillar of the family.
And she was done with it.
On the other end, her mother’s tone turned shrill with outrage.
“Xiaomei, how can you talk like this? Your father and I raised you from a child—now you refuse to support us? You won’t take care of your parents?”
“And Leilei, he’s your nephew, your big brother’s own son! What’s wrong with helping him a little? You can’t just refuse to give money! Do you want to be an ungrateful white-eyed wolf?!”
The words hit Shengmei in the chest like an old wound. The body remembered the pain of years of being scolded and beaten down.
But this time, her resolve held firm.
“Mom, you’d better think carefully. Do you want the guaranteed 1,500 every month—or do you want to keep yelling at me and risk losing even that? These years I’ve worked outside, I’ve already given you more than enough. And don’t think you can scold me into guilt anymore. I won’t accept being called ungrateful. Let me tell you—those days when you could beat me, curse me, and still get my money are over. If I decide I’m done, I won’t give you a single cent.”
Her voice grew colder.
“I’ll still fulfill my duty as a daughter, sending you support money every month. But if you keep pushing, then rely on your precious son instead.”