Chapter 14: “As you can see, I’m terminally ill…”

The sky was pitch-black, and in the thick darkness of night, no one would notice a massive fish soaring across the sky unless they looked very closely.

After about ten minutes, he stopped in front of an old window and shrank down to the size of a human palm, using his tail fin to knock on the glass.

The small courtyard was tucked away in a remote alley on the outskirts of Beijing, the muddy ground mingling with the scent of weeds.

A man’s long, slender fingers rested on the window latch. His fingers were pale and delicate. With a light flick of his fingertip, the window opened.

The Kunpeng leapt into his palm as if showing off his accomplishments, flapping his tail wildly in excitement.

Cold moonlight spilled in through the windowsill and lit up the bedroom. The man stood there, cold as frost. Beneath his defined brow bones were striking eyes, a high nose bridge, and thin pale lips pressed into a line.

His eyelids lowered slightly, expression unreadable, and his voice was calmer than the quiet night, “You found her?”

The Kunpeng poked his thumb with a tail fin, then flipped his tail in another direction.

The man gave a low hum. “Good job.”

He closed the window again, pulled the curtains tight, and shut out the silver moonlight from outside.

The bedroom became dark and icy, with nothing visible inside.

Several minutes later, the man turned on the light, and bright illumination washed over him.

He seemed to have fully adapted to modern life—wearing a light sweater and a pair of casual home pants. His expression was cool and indifferent, his features flawless. But more eye-catching than his face was his snow-white long hair—black strands turned to frost, a shocking sight.

He murmured softly, “Then in a couple of days, shall we go find her?”

The Kunpeng looked up at his master and let out a long cry, seemingly in agreement.

---

Elsewhere, Lu Hui stared blankly out the window, lifeless. The window was wide open, and the sheer curtains swayed with the night breeze. She was completely disillusioned with the damn system.

But at least now she didn’t have to do missions anymore, or bend over backwards to please those damn men like some pitiful doormat.

Even if the Jade Emperor himself came down from the heavens, she wouldn’t be anyone’s punching bag anymore!!!

She had made up her mind: if Yan Zhao really did find her, she’d say the parting words she never got to say back in the cultivation world.

And that was—get lost.

If she had to add a deadline, she hoped it would be forever.

Lu Hui never let herself think back on what she endured in that world. It had been brutal, utterly soul-crushing. She used to think having your heart taken out would be quick and clean—painful, yes, but at least it was a swift end.

But even someone like her, an MVP who had weathered countless storms, had underestimated just how heartless a man on the path of ruthless cultivation could be.

They literally cut your heart out.

F***. She couldn’t think about it anymore—her head hurt.

That night, Lu Hui couldn’t sleep at all. At 3 a.m., she was still tossing and turning in bed. In frustration, she yanked the covers over her head.

Let Earth explode. Let the world end.

Whatever. Screw it all.

—

The next morning, Lu Hui was still in a daze during breakfast. Her head felt like it was stuffed with glue—heavy and dull.

Sheng Zhaoming had recently been eating breakfast at home every day. When he saw Lu Hui not even sparing him a glance, he was displeased but used to it.

He would never lower himself to chat with her casually. Most of the time, the two of them were like strangers under the same roof.

While using his knife and fork, Sheng Zhaoming deliberately scraped the knife against the porcelain plate, creating a grating sound. The woman across from him acted like she didn’t hear a thing. She lazily yawned, head hanging, seemingly still half-asleep, and mechanically spooned porridge into her mouth without paying any attention to him.

Sheng Zhaoming lost his appetite, put down his utensils, and sneered, “What, were you out stealing things last night?”

Lu Hui’s mind was filled with “I’m so sleepy,” “I want to sleep,” “I don’t want to go to work,” “I just want to be a salted fish.” Her ears automatically blocked out the world.

Seeing that she didn’t respond, Sheng Zhaoming irritably kicked the leg of her chair. “I’m talking to you.”

Lu Hui looked up. “What?”

Sheng Zhaoming repeated, “I said, were you out stealing last night? Why are you so tired?”

Lu Hui frowned. “What’s it to you?”

Sheng Zhaoming flushed with anger and snapped through gritted teeth, “Nothing.”

Lu Hui nodded. “Then there you go.”

Maybe the response annoyed him more than he expected, because Sheng Zhaoming fell silent with a foul expression and didn’t say another word.

Lu Hui hadn’t intended to talk to him anyway. After finishing her breakfast, she grabbed a couple of napkins to wipe the milk from the corner of her mouth and prepared to head out.

Lin Tong wasn’t coming to pick her up today—partly because she was busy, and partly because the recording location wasn’t far from Lu Hui’s place. A taxi ride would take just thirty minutes.

Today wasn’t the official recording session, just a pre-interview round with the contestants.

Lu Hui had seen the list Lin Tong sent her. Most of the other participants were idols and actors of about the same fame level. She was probably the lowest-ranked one of them all—the queen of flops, neither popular nor fan-supported.

The deep winter was bitterly cold, and in the rain and snow, the temperature outside the recording venue was freezing. Outside, long and short camera lenses were set up, and each fanbase had already secured their positions at the frontlines.

When Lu Hui got out of the car, she was photographed by the station fans too. This kind of show was similar to talent competitions—there was always a chance that their chosen contestant would blow up during the broadcast and rise to the top tier of popularity.

Lu Hui had a fearsome reputation, so the fans didn’t dare shove long lenses right in her face. They obediently kept a meter’s distance, quietly taking pictures.

The moment Lu Hui stepped out of the car, she shivered from the cold. She had left in a hurry and forgotten her mask. The freezing wind pierced through her skin, stinging slightly. Around her, shutter clicks echoed nonstop.

Five minutes later, Lu Hui safely entered the venue.

Photos were transmitted via 5G from the frontlines, and within thirty minutes, they were picked up by marketing accounts.

“@GossipGhost: The web variety show Celebrity 1V1 officially started preliminary interviews today, and actress Lu Hui was spotted too (ΩДΩ)! The photos are quite nice, but what exactly is Lu Hui planning to perform for the audience? Are you looking forward to it?”

—”Not looking forward to it. Next.”
—”Vase types only last one round. Don’t cry when you get eliminated, sis.”
—”The show might as well cast me—I’m just as good-looking, and I’ve got even more talent.”
—”You guys are so mean hahaha.”
—”Mean souls, mean hearts—only the ruthless rise above.”

—

As soon as Lu Hui arrived, Lin Tong eagerly pushed her in front of the director team, exchanging only a few brief pleasantries.

After the director team left, Lin Tong suddenly looked worried. He said, “I went through hell and high water to get you a spot on this show, and now I realize—you don’t really have any standout talent, do you?”

Acting had improved, maybe. Singing? No way—if she could sing, she wouldn’t be an actress. Dancing? He couldn’t remember Lu Hui ever mentioning that either.

Lu Hui said, “Actually…”

Lin Tong cut her off, “It’s okay. We’ll just coast through it. If we can make it through one episode, that’s good enough.”

Lu Hui still wanted to explain. “Brother Lin, I actually do know quite a bit.”

Lin Tong glanced at her, brimming with confidence. “You think I don’t know what you’re like?”

Lu Hui pressed her lips into a straight line and said, “Yeah, I guess I really was pretty bad at everything before.”

Average voice, never learned to dance, acting was cringe-worthy.

But that was the old her.

After transmigrating through two wealthy family novels, Lu Hui had learned to please male leads—things like singing and dancing were basic survival skills she had long since mastered.

After a pause, she continued her unfinished sentence: “Now I even know acrobatics.”

“…Like breaking bricks on your chest or something?” Lin Tong didn’t know what to say.

Lu Hui looked at him seriously, not joking in the slightest. “If you really want to see it, or if the show needs it, I can do that too.”

Lin Tong: “Babe, you really don’t have a knack for telling jokes.”

Lu Hui knew he wouldn’t believe her.

“Fine, don’t believe me.”

“This isn’t about belief—this is about how outrageously you’re bragging.” Lin Tong lowered his voice, terrified someone might overhear and laugh at them. He dragged Lu Hui into a quiet corner. “When the interviewers ask about your special skills, please don’t joke around.”

Lu Hui frowned. “I’m not joking.”

Lin Tong said, “Just hype your acting, or be shameless and say you can sing and dance. Those are things you can learn quickly.”

Lu Hui thought for a moment, then nodded. “Got it.”

The interview was mostly a formality—the recording lineup had already been finalized. The director team just wanted to get a better sense of the participants.

In the small meeting room, the atmosphere wasn’t too tense.

The producer, director, and segment planner sat in the chairs across from Lu Hui.

The producer spoke first. “Lin Tong says you have a great sense for variety shows, but he didn’t tell us what you’re actually good at.”

Lu Hui thought carefully and gave what she believed to be a safe answer: “I can do anything.”

The producer chuckled. “What do you mean, ‘anything’?”

She tapped the pen in her hand, clearly not taking it seriously. “I’ve interviewed so many people today, and this is the first time I’ve heard that.”

Most contestants were a bit more modest.

“As far as I know, you’re an actress. So you can also sing and dance?”

“Mm, I’m decent,” Lu Hui said casually.

The producer had been conducting interviews all day, and hadn’t seen anyone else this confident. Even idol trainees hedged their answers to questions like that. In her mind, she labeled Lu Hui as arrogant.

“Any other talents? You should know, our show is brutal. Each episode, someone gets eliminated based on performance. If you don’t have skills, the audience won’t vote to keep you.”

“Acrobatics, tea art… a bunch of stuff. I’m pretty okay at all of them.”

“…Let’s take this seriously, shall we?” the producer said, clearly annoyed.

Lu Hui looked her in the eyes, expression serious. “I am being serious.”

The producer shook her head with a smile of disbelief. She closed the resume in her hand and said flatly, “In that case, for the first episode, why don’t you perform martial arts?”

Each contestant drew a different performance theme every episode.

Martial arts was one of the least popular choices among contestants. But since Lu Hui insisted on being so confident, the producer went along with it.

“Sure, I’m good at that,” Lu Hui replied, thinking it was actually a pretty good option.

The entire director team was stunned. Did we hear that right? What kind of nonsense is she spouting?

The producer was speechless. She shouldn’t have let Lin Tong talk her into signing such a weirdo.

“Alright, it’s settled then. You can go. See you at the next recording.”

“Alright.”

Lu Hui had already taken one step out of the meeting room but suddenly retracted it. She turned back around, her gaze sincere. “Actually, before I came in just now, Lin-ge and I were discussing whether I should perform something like breaking a stone on my chest. If that’s what you need, I can totally do it.”

The producer took a deep breath to calm down, a visible twitch between his brows. “We’re aware of that now.”

Lu Hui felt the production team seemed pretty satisfied with her. She looked relaxed as she exited the room. Lin Tong asked, “How’d it go? Everything smooth?”

Lu Hui was quite pleased with herself. “Very smooth.”

“As long as you didn’t mess it up. We need to prepare well for the first episode. Getting eliminated in the first round would be a joke. Our goal is to last at least two episodes, got it?”

“OK, I’ll do my best.”

“Use the back door when you leave. The front is full of fans with huge cameras.”

“No worries, they like photographing handsome guys, not me.”

“Well… fair enough.”

Lu Hui confidently walked out the front entrance. But this time, even more people were there filming her than in the morning. The camera flashes were so blinding she could hardly open her eyes. The fans were willing to photograph her simply because she was beautiful.

Who doesn’t love a stunning beauty? She was on a whole different level from the others in terms of looks. And besides, shooting pretty girls was satisfying in its own way.

One fan site master had photographed Lu Hui several times. While editing pictures of her own idol, she would often spot Lu Hui’s unedited ones in the batch—and after seeing them so often, it was hard not to fall for her. As she snapped away, she shouted at Lu Hui, “Jie-jie, I’m opening a fan site for you when I get home!”

“Thank you.”

“More and more people are going to love you!”

Lu Hui got in the car, the sound from outside cut off by the window.

Lin Tong asked where she wanted to go. She was about to say “home” when her phone rang.

“Hello, this is a nurse from Heshun Private Hospital. Is this Miss Lu Hui?”

“Yes, speaking. Is something wrong?”

“We still have your medical records here. We haven’t been able to reach you for several months. Could you come by to pick them up when you’re free?”

“I can come now.”

She asked Lin Tong to drop her off at the hospital. Before she got out, Lin Tong handed her a spare face mask. “Be careful in a place like this, just in case someone takes a picture and says you’re getting cosmetic surgery.”

Lu Hui properly put on the mask. Lin Tong then pressed the baseball cap from his own head onto hers, checking her from left to right. Once he felt she was unrecognizable, he was satisfied. “Want me to wait for you?”

“No need. Go home and rest. I’ll just grab the stuff and take a taxi back.”

“Alright, I’m off then.”

“Mm, take care, Lin-ge.”

The black Volkswagen pulled away. Lu Hui zipped her down jacket all the way up to protect her neck from the chilly wind. Then she made her way toward the familiar Building No. 5.

She went up to the eighth floor and retrieved her medical records from the nurse’s station. The young nurse informed her that the doctor was still waiting in his office.

It was a completely different state of mind when Lu Hui saw her former attending physician again.

Back when she learned her condition had worsened and she had only a few days left, she had embarrassingly broken down crying in this very office, thinking how pitiful she was.

“You’d better come in for a few tests,” the doctor advised.

“Dr. Cheng, thank you, but I really do feel much better.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen a case like yours. If it relapses…”

“It won’t.” Lu Hui said firmly.

Dr. Cheng raised his brows slightly. The chances of relapse were indeed low—just like her spontaneous recovery was a rare case. “Alright, then you can go.”

“Goodbye, Dr. Cheng.”

Lu Hui closed the door to his office behind her. She hadn’t brought a bag that day, so she carried the medical records in her hand. By the time she got home, it was already dusk. The setting sun hung high in the clouds, casting a brilliant orange hue across the sky.

Lu Hui walked slowly along the path, her shadow stretching before her. In front of the mansion gate was a car that didn’t belong to the Sheng family.

A man leaned against it, cigarette butts scattered at his feet, his brows furrowed tightly.

Hearing footsteps, Xie Ran looked up in her direction.

He forced a charming smile. “Finished with work?”

Lu Hui knew he was stubborn to the core, never giving up until the very end. She slowly approached and asked, “Xie Ran, what is it you want from me?”

Xie Ran gave a bitter laugh. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

Expressionless, Lu Hui said, “Well, now you’ve seen me. Can you leave?”

As expected, Xie Ran went quiet.

The man was both hypocritical and shameless. When he lost her, he only wanted one last look. But after seeing her, he wanted to make amends, to make her love him again like she used to.

Lu Hui sighed. “Xie Ran, I don’t love you anymore.”

When she was doing missions in the book, she loved him—because that was her role, and heartbreak had to be maxed out.

But the moment the system declared “Task Complete,” she’d pulled all those emotions away like shedding skin.

Xie Ran swallowed the bitterness in his throat. “It’s okay. I love you.”

Lu Hui couldn’t help but laugh. “You love me? What do you want this time—a kidney? Or some other organ?”

Xie Ran’s face froze. He hated hearing things like that—but she wasn’t wrong. He had done that. No misunderstanding. No excuse. If he had regrets, he had no one to blame but himself for being so heartless back then.

He didn’t know how to respond. But when he glanced at her hand, he caught sight of the papers she was holding—and his expression instantly changed.

During the time Lu Hui had been in the ICU, Xie Ran practically lived at the hospital. He’d signed so many critical condition notices that he could recognize hospital documents at a glance.

He lunged forward like a madman, veins bulging on his hands as he snatched the papers from her grip. His hands were shaking, too afraid to even look down at them.

“What is this?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Lu Hui let out a few casual “oh”s. “You should recognize it. So now that you see how miserable I am, just let me go. Don’t make me see you again. Go back to your own world, okay?”

Xie Ran felt as though his soul had been obliterated in an instant.

Lu Hui continued, “As you can see, I have a terminal illness. I don’t have much time left.”

A freshly made-up story.

He’d better believe it.

Lu Hui had no patience to deal with Xie Ran. Just as her words landed precisely, her stepbrother—who had been watching the commotion from inside the house—happened to walk out the villa’s front door. He stopped at a distance, not too far yet not too close, and happened to hear only that single sentence.

Sheng Zhaoming froze mid-step. Silence as absolute as death fell over him. His gaze toward her was layered with indescribable complexity.