Chapter Eight: Misfortunes Upon Leaving the House

Rong Qing crouched in front of a girl with dyed short hair, waving her hands. The girl, who had been staring blankly just a moment before, suddenly regained her lively spirit, her round, glistening eyes blinking up at the woman before her.

“Qing…” the girl exclaimed in surprise. The composed, efficient image she had just presented was instantly replaced by youthful exuberance.

Rong Qing pressed a hand to her forehead, more exasperated than ever. This silly girl—just like in college—still wore that clueless look and had a quick temper. One day, if someone tricked her, she’d probably help them count the money afterward. The cherubic-faced, bright-eyed girl before her was none other than her close friend from university, Meng Lin.

Rong Qing sat down opposite her, blocking most of the view. Meng Lin’s loud exclamation had already drawn quite a few glances, and Rong Qing had no intention of appearing in tomorrow’s headlines as a celebrity out shopping with a friend.

“My goodness, I thought you’d be worn out, exhausted, but you’re more enchanting than ever!” Meng Lin propped her chin in her hands, carefully studying her friend. She muttered, half-joking, “Why do I feel like you’re radiating feminine hormones? Every gesture is so alluring.”

A cough escaped Rong Qing as she nearly choked on her ice water. Did this woman suspect something? She elegantly dabbed the moisture from the corner of her mouth and asked offhandedly, “So, how’s work at the editorial office going?”

Meng Lin sighed. “Hey, I’m a graduate of a prestigious Chinese department, but the editorial office is all about celebrities dating in secret, sweethearts doing racy photo shoots, or the latest gossip about TV stars. All my writing skills are wasted. By the way, Qing, your news with Wang Chenhao is everywhere lately. You’re painted as the poor, suffering victim.” She clenched her fists in indignation. “I’ve tried to suppress news about you, but the others in the office…” Suddenly her lively demeanor gave way to anger, warming Rong Qing’s heart.

“You’ve done more than enough.” Meng Lin’s position at the editorial office meant she often gave Rong Qing a heads-up about breaking news, saving her from many troubles.

“Qing, are you just going to let that man off so easily?” Meng Lin was even more agitated than Rong Qing. She, Qing, and Wang Chenhao had all graduated from X University the same year. Meng Lin had never liked Wang Chenhao’s style—a typical privileged son, wealthy and arrogant. If he’d ever had a redeeming quality, it was that he’d once cared deeply for Qing. But with his recent infidelity, Meng Lin had written him off as just another scoundrel.

“Completely forgetting him is the best revenge. Besides, I’ve already repaid him for the care and help he gave me during my hardest times. From now on, we’re nothing to each other.” Rong Qing’s expression didn’t waver, as if she were describing something entirely unrelated to herself.

Meng Lin finally relaxed. Her friend was so proud—losing Rong Qing was Wang Chenhao’s misfortune.

“Heh… let’s celebrate your return to singlehood.” Meng Lin knew her friend had truly moved on.

The two girls sat in the café, laughing and chatting, as if they’d been transported back to their carefree university days. The short-haired one radiated youthful energy, while the stunning beauty beside her lit up the entire café with her smile.

That afternoon, Queen’s Avenue bustled with life. Lined with luxury boutiques of the world’s best-known brands, the street was a parade of stylish pedestrians, each with their own unique flair—a true blend of fashion and elegance. The slanting sun cast elongated shadows beneath the plane trees.

The two figures weaved through the grand flagship stores. Though their hands were empty of loot, their faces glowed with joy, as if something more enticing than designer bags and luxury goods had captured their attention.

“My goodness, I bet my annual salary couldn’t buy two or three pieces here. Utterly extravagant!” Meng Lin, still just a junior editor, grumbled fiercely—these high-end luxuries were worlds apart from her life.

Rong Qing smiled faintly. The entertainment world was a stage built on glamour and pretense; those designer bags and lavish dresses were mere facades. Yet who would guess that such a simple, peaceful life was so out of reach for most celebrities?

Suddenly, Rong Qing felt Meng Lin tug her arm, pulling her out of her reverie—she nearly collided with someone emerging from a store. Meng Lin, bristling with protective fury, seemed ready to pounce, her eyes blazing.

Following her gaze, Rong Qing’s heart sank. If only she’d known they’d be out shopping today, she would never have chosen this moment to come out—next time, she really needed to check the calendar before leaving the house.

“Hao, are you alright?” A woman beside them shot Rong Qing a venomous glare. Her heavy makeup twisted her features, and her handbag was misshapen from her tight grip.

Moments earlier, Rong Qing had nearly bumped into Wang Chenhao. The encounter sent ripples through each of their hearts. Rong Qing cursed her bad luck, Han Xiyun fumed with suspicion, convinced Rong Qing was scheming to get close to Chenhao, while Wang Chenhao himself was momentarily dazed at the sight of the woman he hadn’t seen for weeks.

“Rong Qing, Chenhao is my boyfriend now. Don’t think that sneaking up on him will make him change his mind,” Han Xiyun snapped, all decorum gone, her shrill voice cutting through the air.

Rong Qing shot the pair a cold glance, ignoring Wang Chenhao’s lingering stare. “That’s exactly what I was about to say. Don’t buzz around me like flies—it’s disgusting.”

“I’ve seen shameless people, but never anyone quite so brazen. One betrays her friend, the other cheats, and now they’re together—what a match made in heaven,” Meng Lin retorted mercilessly.

Brilliant! Rong Qing cheered for her friend internally—only a top language student could insult someone so deftly, without a single vulgar word.

“You…” Han Xiyun turned pale with rage, speechless. She stomped her high heels—nine centimeters tall—hard against the ground, and whined to the man beside her.

“Hao, they’re ganging up on me, aren’t you going to say something?” She clung to his arm, shaking it incessantly.

Wang Chenhao, cornered, felt the soft, yielding body pressed ever closer, her faint, ambiguous perfume teasing his nerves. Han Xiyun’s coquettish eyes were irresistible to a man still intoxicated by his first taste of forbidden fruit.

“Rong Qing, this has nothing to do with Xiyun. Don’t keep targeting her,” he said stiffly, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s gaze with a mix of guilt and fear.

Wang Chenhao, when have I ever targeted her? I avoid you both as if you were the plague. You utterly sicken me. Any last shred of favorable impression was now destroyed by his own hand.

“Pot calling the kettle black. Well, you’re thick as thieves now—who knows what else you’re capable of.” Meng Lin shot back without restraint, her main concern still for Qing’s feelings.

Rong Qing smiled warmly at Meng Lin, her eyes clearing. The two girls’ hands clasped tightly, as if each were the other’s greatest support.