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Andy frowned, puzzled.
“How did you know it was a man?”
Shengmei opened her mouth, but didn’t know how to explain. Just one look at Guan Guan’s shy, blushing face was enough—the glow on her cheeks could only mean it was a man.
“The concert’s starting. Let’s head in!”
Guan Guan quickly changed the subject, hurrying toward the line.
Seeing this, Shengmei and Andy dropped the matter and joined her in queue. Guan Guan, however, seemed to glance around now and then, as if searching for someone—but whoever it was, she didn’t find him.
Inside, the concert hall was hushed. Everyone sat still, soaking in the beauty of the music. The cello and violin wove together, their voices rising and falling with such sincerity that it swept the audience into their embrace.
But Shengmei’s mind wasn’t entirely on the music. The earlier call from Lao Hu still weighed on her heart. Soon, her emotions overwhelmed her, and tears streamed down her cheeks, ruining her carefully applied makeup. She stared at the stage, the music unraveling her composure.
Both Guan Guan and Andy noticed at once.
Guan Guan quickly pulled tissues from her bag and handed them over. Shengmei dabbed at her face. Andy gently rubbed her back, trying to steady her.
And then—Shengmei suddenly felt it. The gaze of someone watching her, not just watching, but recording.
She turned her head sharply.
It was Zhao Qiping.
He had been listening quietly, but when he saw Shengmei weeping, visibly moved by the music, something flickered across his mind. He raised his phone, intending to take a photo and send it to Qu Xiaoxiao.
But just as he lifted the camera—Shengmei’s piercing gaze snapped toward him.
Her sharp eyes made his hand tremble.
Guan Guan also turned, catching sight of Zhao Qiping, his phone clearly aimed at Shengmei. Whatever faint flutter of admiration she had felt earlier—like back in the record shop—vanished in an instant. It was like a soap bubble bursting under sunlight, leaving nothing behind.
Andy’s brows knitted, her expression filled with disapproval. But with the concert in progress, there was nothing she could say. She pressed her lips together and let it go.
Shengmei, on the other hand, didn’t seem too bothered. She patted both Andy’s and Guan Guan’s hands lightly, as if to reassure them.
The three of them turned back to the music.
Meanwhile, Zhao Qiping awkwardly lowered his phone, abandoning his plan of sending the photo to Qu Xiaoxiao. He couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore.
When the performance ended, applause rippled through the hall. The turnout had been good, and the response respectable.
Andy was the first to speak, her eyes bright.
“Let’s go eat. My treat. Something nice—how about something expensive?”
Shengmei gave a polite laugh, still pretending modesty.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly let you… but—”
Her phone buzzed. She excused herself quickly and slipped into the restroom to take the call, using the chance to touch up her smudged makeup from earlier tears.
Crying had helped though. She felt lighter. Sometimes, emotions needed a release.
It was her mother on the line.
The restroom was crowded with other women fixing their faces. Shengmei slipped on her earbuds, answered, and began dabbing her compact cushion across her cheeks as she listened.
On the other end of the call, Shengmei’s mother wailed, her tone as if the sky were falling.
“Xiaomei, you have to help your brother! He got into a fight and now they’re demanding money. If you don’t send money soon, your brother will be thrown in jail!”
Shengmei ignored her, calmly applying lipstick in front of the mirror.
Her mother grew frantic.
“Xiaomei, are you listening to me? You can’t just abandon your brother!”
In the mirror, Shengmei’s makeup was flawless, her beauty undeniable. But the cold impatience on her face made her seem utterly unapproachable.
She let out a slow breath.
“I know already, Mom. Lao Hu told me about it. I’ll see what I can do, but you and Dad need to cover things for now. I’ll try to pull some money together.”
She only wanted to calm them down for the moment.
But her mother pressed harder.
“How long will that take? You need to hurry, Xiaomei! If you delay, your brother’s life will be ruined!”
Then let him ruin it.
Shengmei screamed silently inside. What was the point of him being alive anyway? Spoiled useless by their mother, and at his age, he still hid behind her skirts, dumping all his messes on his younger sister.
Her voice turned icy.
“Are you sure you want to keep repeating this? Because if I hear it too many times, I’ll stop caring altogether.”
Her mother, remembering Shengmei’s last warning, backed off slightly.
“Fine, fine, I won’t say more. But you must raise money for your brother, Xiaomei. You have to save him!”
Shengmei cut her off sharply.
“Let me make this clear. For now, keep Shengying from running around. If he stirs up more trouble, they’ll have leverage against him, and then even settling things will be impossible. Just stall for now.”
With that, she hung up, irritation etched on her face.
She wasn’t going to clean up his messes forever.
Back home, her mother stared at the dead line, muttering curses under her breath.
Beside her, Shengying looked nervous.
“Mom, did Xiaomei say she’d send money?”
He had caught pieces of the conversation.
His mother snapped,
“Of course she will! She wouldn’t dare not to. Every time she swears she won’t, she ends up paying anyway. She said don’t run around, so stay put for now.”
Then she added firmly,
“She’s seen plenty of the world in Shanghai. She’ll manage it somehow. As long as she’s there to take the heat, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
In truth, she had already thought through a fallback plan—if Shengmei really refused, she’d take Shengying, Lei Lei, and their father straight to Shanghai. No way her daughter would abandon them face to face.
Hearing this, Shengying finally relaxed. As long as Shengmei was there to shoulder it, what was there to fear?
Meanwhile, Shengmei, phone still in hand, made another call.
“Hello, Lawyer Li? It’s Shengmei. How have you been? I’ve got something I’d like to consult you about… is this a good time?”
As an experienced HR professional, Shengmei had made plenty of connections. Knowing a lawyer wasn’t unusual, though few of those contacts could be called friends. Li was one of them.
After her consultation, she felt steadier, reassured. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she nodded at her perfected makeup, picked up her clutch, and stepped out.
At the entrance of the concert hall, Andy and Guan Guan were waiting.
And so was an unexpected face—Zhao Qiping.