Chapter Twelve: First Encounter with a Superstar

Qiu Jieqin gazed at me with pleading eyes, her expression so delicate and pitiful, and said, “Don’t answer it, just turn off your phone. Tonight, you belong only to me, all right?”

I replied, “It’s my sister calling. It’s so late—the concert should have ended long ago. If she’s calling me now, something must have happened.”

I pressed the answer button. My little sister’s anxious voice came through, “Brother, you have to come get me! There are too many people here, I can’t even hail a cab. My friends and I are freezing! Please hurry and come pick us up.”

“Where are you now?” I asked.

“We’re on the big flower bed in front of the stadium’s main entrance. You have to hurry, it’s freezing!”

“I’ll be right there.” I hung up, then looked at Qiu Jieqin, feigning helplessness.

She sensed something was wrong and, a little flustered, complained, “What’s this? In the middle of the night, you still have to go out?”

I explained, “Xu Shu’s concert just ended. There are too many people, and my sister can’t get a cab home. It’s cold and so late—I can’t just leave her there. I have to pick her up.”

Qiu Jieqin was both angry and anxious, wanting to keep me but unable to come up with a better reason. All she could do was grumble, “Your sister is something else. She’s not a child anymore—can’t she get home by herself?”

I laughed. “All right, that’s enough. Come down now, I really have to go. If I don’t, my sister will get worried.”

But Qiu Jieqin was unwilling, twisting her body atop me, refusing to let me go. “No, I won’t!” she pouted.

I deliberately put on a stern face and said seriously, “If you keep this up, I’ll get angry. Do you want to see me again or not?” That did the trick—she froze, then, sulking, let me go, her lips curling up in a pout, her voice on the verge of tears: “You’re always bullying me. I must have owed you in my past life, to be paying for it now—hmph!”

Finally freed, I quickly stood up from the sofa, letting out a long sigh. Imagine a beautiful woman writhing on your lap—how could any man not lose his composure? I’m no sage; had I not forced her off in time, I might have lost control. Even so, some part of me was still aching with excitement. Thank goodness it was winter, with heavy clothes to conceal it.

Seeing how wronged and unwilling Qiu Jieqin looked, I tried to comfort her. “Don’t be like this. I’ve promised to think it over. There’s no rush. If you’re good, maybe I’ll fall for you one day.”

She brightened immediately, a smile breaking through. “Really? You can’t go back on your word!”

I smiled. “It’s possible.”

She pouted, annoyed. “Empty promises. Liar, hmph!” Even as she grumbled, she fetched my overcoat and helped me into it, reluctantly agreeing to let me go, her lips still pursed in protest.

As she buttoned me up, she added, “I can’t stop you from leaving, but you have to promise to see me often from now on. You’re not allowed to avoid me.”

Seeing her so pitiful, I couldn’t bear it. “All right,” I agreed.

“Really?” she pressed.

“Yes, I promise.”

Only then did Qiu Jieqin beam, extending her pinky in a playful gesture. “Pinky promise! You can’t break it!”

I laughed, spreading my hands. “Is that really necessary? We’re not children.”

She insisted. “No, we have to. If you break a pinky promise, there will be consequences!”

“All right, all right.” I looked helplessly at the twenty-seven or eight-year-old Qiu Jieqin acting like a seven-year-old girl. I shook my head with a wry smile, hooked my pinky with hers, then hurried toward the door, calling out, “I’m running late—I really have to go!”

As I reached for the door, she suddenly called me back. “Wait!” I stopped, puzzled. She dashed to the wardrobe, pulled out a creamy white scarf, and wrapped it around my neck with great care. “It’s so cold—how could you go out without a scarf? This one’s my favorite. Take it, and be careful on the way, it’s slippery.”

A wave of warmth washed over me. Other than my mother, I’d never felt such tender care from a woman. I couldn’t help but caress her face gently, my voice softer than usual. “Qiu Jieqin, you’re wonderful.”

Her face glowed with happiness at my touch. Tilting her head into my hand, she lingered in the moment before gently pushing me toward the door. “Go on, your sister’s really waiting.”

I nodded, opened the door, and strode out.

Our neighborhood was remote, and it was late. I waited a long time before finally flagging down a taxi. “To the stadium, please,” I told the driver. “As fast as you can.”

Fifteen minutes later, the cab stopped near the stadium. Though the concert had ended a while before, the area in front of the main gates was still packed with people; the car couldn’t get any closer. I got out my phone, ready to call my sister, when she called first.

“Brother, I waited so long for you, but I couldn’t wait anymore. We’re already in a cab. You don’t need to pick me up—bye!” She hung up.

I could only smile wryly at my phone. Just then, three girls came over and tapped on the window. I rolled it down, looking at them questioningly.

One of them asked, “Mister, are you getting out?”

They looked about my sister’s age, their noses red from the cold, their breath visible in the frigid air. Clearly, they’d been waiting for a ride just as long. Compassion stirred in me, as if these girls were my own sisters. “Wait a moment, I’m leaving now.”

Overjoyed, the girls cheered. One even thanked me politely. I paid my fare and got out; they dived into the cab, which quickly sped away.

I smiled, thinking that although I’d come all this way without picking up my sister, I’d helped three girls her age. That made the trip worthwhile. I was content, though I now had to walk home myself.

It was bitterly cold. Wrapping my coat tightly around me, I headed toward the stadium.

There was a shortcut home, but it meant skirting half the stadium to Wuyi Road behind it, then heading south for about twenty minutes—no, with all this snow, more like forty—before reaching the Walmart plaza, where I might catch a cab. If not, it was three more blocks to the south gate of my neighborhood, and then another twenty minutes to my building in the north section. At best, it would take me an hour and a half to get home.

I sighed to myself, hoping I’d find a taxi along the way.

Passing the stadium gates, I glanced around. Most of those still lingering were die-hard Xu Shu fans, their necks craned as they anxiously awaited a glimpse of the star—perhaps for an autograph, a photo, or simply out of feverish devotion.

I looked down on such idol worship. Did they really think that, even if the star appeared, she would grant their wishes? More likely she’d emerge surrounded by a dozen bodyguards and drive off without a glance.

But the Xu Shu fanatics were legion. The area outside the gates was packed, and I could imagine the throngs inside, backstage, at the dressing room doors—endless fans, fully armed journalists—a suffocating crush.

Lost in thought, I made my way carefully around the stadium. It was enormous; it took ages to reach the back. The front was a sea of people, but back here, there wasn’t a soul. The distant noise from the gates was barely audible.

In the dim glow of the stadium’s outer lights, I suddenly saw a shadowy figure furtively descending the fire escape. As she neared the ground, the snow made her slip—she cried out and tumbled down seven or eight steps, landing awkwardly in the snow, unable to get up.

I ran over and reached out a hand. “Hey! Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

Her hat had flown several steps away, revealing a cascade of luxuriant hair—it was a woman. She groaned, using my hands to sit up. As she lifted her head, the light revealed half of an astonishingly beautiful face. Snow clung to her nose, her hair a mess, her brows furrowed, teeth biting her lower lip—she looked utterly disheveled.

But her beauty stunned me. It actually made me forget to breathe.

And she looked so familiar.

She… she… wasn’t she the famous Xu Shu herself?