Chapter 16: The Past Is Like Bad Wine—Bitter to Relive

“It’s me.” Shen Baizhou was a little stunned. The girl with the oval face was quite beautiful, and her chest was impressive—full, fair, and firm. Yet right now, she looked down at him with undisguised disdain. Shen Baizhou felt extremely uncomfortable under her gaze.

“And you are?”

“I’m Tang Tang, Su Hongdou’s good friend.”

“Baizhou!” Su Hongdou popped up from behind her. “You came?”

Today she wasn’t wearing her usual robe or any sexy sleepwear, but a loose light pink T-shirt paired with washed denim jeans. Her smooth long hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and she stood there lively and confident. Even though Shen Baizhou had met her a few times before, he couldn’t help but secretly give her a thumbs-up in his mind. This girl was exceptional—she could look perfect no matter what she wore, effortlessly radiating charm.

Excitedly helping Shen Baizhou with the three rolling suitcases, Su Hongdou widened her bright eyes and asked, “Where’s the cat?”

“He’s on my back,” Shen Baizhou said with a smile, about to walk inside. A small doubt crept into his mind—her attitude toward him was exactly the same as last night, showing no trace of blocking him at all.

But Tang Tang suddenly pressed a hand onto his shoulder, narrowing her sharp eyes. “Once the cat is in, you don’t come in.”

“Why?” Shen Baizhou frowned.

“This room is too small,” Tang Tang said coldly, “it can’t hold your grand ambitions!”

“Baizhou, why aren’t you coming in yet?” Su Hongdou called from inside. Tang Tang twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“No matter how small the room is, there’s only one host,” Shen Baizhou said with a wink, “and it doesn’t seem to be you!”

Tang Tang was momentarily stunned. She hadn’t expected him to be so quick-witted. Hmph. Men who can talk this well are never to be trusted—her ancestral rule.

She glared as Shen Baizhou walked boldly into the room, took the stuffed cat out of the bag, and Su Hongdou screamed as if electrocuted: “Ah~~~ it’s so cute!”

Tang Tang scoffed. In truth, she couldn’t help a little—it was an incredibly cute cat. Snowy white with soft, fluffy pale-yellow fur, a silly little expression, and eyes the serene blue of mountain lakes…

Tang Tang suppressed the urge to reach out and pet it. That wasn’t why she was here. Her naturally airheaded friend needed protection, and Shen Baizhou, the scumbag, had to be expelled. Tonight, she intended to eliminate any potential threat completely.

“Shen Baizhou, come here.” She crossed her arms and gestured toward the west side of the living room with her chin. “We need to talk.”

The two stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, eyes locked. Meanwhile, Su Hongdou continued squealing and teasing the beautiful cat.

“I want you to understand—this is a transaction, and it ends in 28 days. Don’t get any ideas about trying to have anything with Hongdou,” Tang Tang said coldly.

“We’re all adults. If you think you can win the heart of a wealthy heiress with just a cat, then I can only say you’ve watched too many stupid idol dramas.”

“I have no such thoughts,” Shen Baizhou frowned.

“Good, because even if you did, it wouldn’t work. Let’s be clear—I know what you do…”

“Oh?” Shen Baizhou thought. Did she know he was a scriptwriter?

“You’re a socialite hunter! But your gear isn’t good enough…” Tang Tang sneered, glancing at his knock-off sneakers, then lowered her voice. “You know your own status, and you can probably guess hers. The gap is obvious—anyone with eyes can see it. After these 28 days, disappear from her world. Don’t think about dating her. Got it? And don’t make excuses to stay here. Please, leave now!”

She glanced at Su Hongdou, still playing with the cat, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

“I think you misunderstood.” Shen Baizhou had just realized what “socialite hunter” meant. She was calling him a pretty boy trying to live off Su Hongdou…

He smiled and looked at Tang Tang. “First, whether I stay here isn’t up to you. You’re her friend, not her stepmother. Second, you don’t need to worry—I won’t fall in love with Su Hongdou. Not just her, not you, and not anyone else in this world. I’ve sworn off love.”

In the living room, Su Hongdou froze mid-play with the cat.

“Oh?” Tang Tang smiled faintly. Sure enough, it was the usual ploy. Many scumbag men excel at painting themselves as “wounded by love.” She had seen plenty of them over the years.

“So you have a sad story about ‘no longer believing in love.’ Care to tell me? I’ll evaluate how original it is, how much fluff it has. Don’t worry, as long as it’s not too cliché, I can accept it.”

“You might be disappointed.” Shen Baizhou crossed his arms. “My story is pure cliché. Press 1 if you want to hear it.”

“1.” Tang Tang sneered, curious how he’d spin it.

“The story begins with me having a girlfriend. Our families were neighbors, and we grew up together—childhood sweethearts.”

“Hmph, a bit cliché at the start.”

“Then came the college entrance exam—the first twist. You might not have noticed, but I was a top student.”

“Impressive.”

“My grades were enough to enter Tsinghua or Peking University, while she dreamed of being a singer. To be with her, I practiced guitar intensively for a year. Finally, we both got into the China Music Academy. Now the story enters the main plot.”

“Not bad, doesn’t drag,” Tang Tang nodded.

“Once there, we realized music is about talent, but even more about resources. If a singer has no original songs, it’s hard to succeed. So I started writing and producing albums, which is expensive. And I’m not a rich kid like you. I had to figure something out.”

“Not very original, but go on,” Tang Tang folded her arms.

“For example, every Monday I bought a big bag of steamed buns, cheaper in bulk. I stored them in the dorm fridge, took two for breakfast, microwaved them in the public cafeteria, added a free soup. That cut a meal’s cost to under one yuan. Same for dinner. One bag lasted a week. Saving for two months, I could buy her a second-hand effects pedal.”

Tang Tang nodded. This detail seemed believable.

“But equipment alone isn’t enough. My songs were terrible. Fortunately, there’s a genius in our circle who can make any song sound amazing if paid—but I had no money.”

Her expression stiffened slightly. She knew this was realistic; many rich kids hire people to “fix” their amateur albums.

“This genius was actually a teacher at our school. I worked in his office and dorm—cleaning, organizing, arranging slippers—for three years. It paid off. He finally helped me revise eight songs, completing an album for my girlfriend. We recorded it and promoted it across the capital. One day, a company offered her a chance…”

Tang Tang found herself tense, caught up in the story.

“She finally became a professional singer, a real artist. We hugged and screamed in the street, laughing, ignoring everyone. That was the happiest day of my life… At the time, I could never have imagined I’d commit suicide a year later.”