“You two really do look perfect for each other,” the host said, sitting on one side of the sofa with a microphone, addressing Lin Xi and Xiang Bei, who were seated on a long sofa across from her.
“But I heard your first impressions of each other weren’t so great. Is that true?”
The stage lights were bright, and Lin Xi’s white dress and golden hair made her exceptionally dazzling under the glare.
Gao Qinghe had initially wondered if Lin Xi’s makeup was too heavy, but sitting in the back row, she found Lin Xi’s features remarkably clear—just right, actually.
“It’s actually kind of funny,” Lin Xi said, holding another microphone, offering a slight smile.
She turned her head to look at Xiang Bei, her smile sweet, then faced the host again.
“As we mentioned earlier, we met during a shoot of mine. I’m very picky about perfume scents, especially can’t stand the smell of cologne. The set had poor ventilation, so I was already uncomfortable when this wave of cologne hit my nose. I turned and saw a guy sitting next to me, and I thought, ‘Where did this rich playboy come from? He’s putting on such an act.’”
The audience laughed.
“Then she stood up and moved to the other side of the set,” Xiang Bei said, raising his own microphone toward the host, his face feigning helplessness.
“I thought, ‘What’s she doing? Is she throwing a tantrum at a complete stranger?’”
More laughter from the audience.
“Here, take this.”
Gao Qinghe was sitting in the last row, her emotions tangled as she watched the performance on stage, when a champagne glass was handed to her from the side.
“You can drink, can’t you?”
…Well, she could drink.
Gao Qinghe silently accepted the glass.
Zhao Yuqi shrugged nonchalantly and plopped down beside her.
Compared to Lin Xi, Xiang Bei’s outfit was somewhat understated.
He wore a black casual suit jacket with an intentionally tight fit around the biceps, giving it a stylish design.
The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing a distinct Adam’s apple.
Because he was tall, his knees were slightly cramped in the narrow space, and his free hand rested casually on his leg—relaxed yet elegant, without losing his poise.
“Xiang Bei is handsome, isn’t he?”
Zhao Yuqi leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly, lowering her voice near Gao Qinghe’s ear.
…What the hell?
Gao Qinghe shot her a glance and didn’t take the bait.
“He and I go way back. To be honest, I’ve never seen him this serious before.”
Zhao Yuqi took a sip of champagne and crossed her legs.
“You went out of your way to bring me in here just to say this?”
Gao Qinghe’s fingers twisted the gauze hem of her skirt, feeling the friction of the thin fabric against her skin.
She had thought Zhao Yuqi was definitely going to demand an explanation for her unexcused absence, and she’d been racking her brain for a good comeback that would hit hard.
But instead, it was this nonsense about Lin Xi and Xiang Bei again?
“…You know, actually, Lin Xi isn’t Xiang Bei’s type,” Zhao Yuqi said, as if she hadn’t heard Gao Qinghe at all, continuing on her own.
On stage, the topic of their first meeting was still going.
“Lin Xi, as everyone knows, you’ve been continuously promoting feminist activities online in the past year, and you could be called a leader of the new-generation feminist movement,” the host’s voice continued.
“After news of your relationship came out, there was a lot of criticism online, especially since your partner chose not to go public. What were your thoughts on that at the time?”
“I don’t believe that supporting feminism means opposing all men,” Lin Xi’s voice was clear and well-organized.
“As a cisgender feminist, it’s perfectly normal for me to feel affection, admiration, or even desire toward a man. So I don’t think I had any reason to hide it.”
She glanced at Xiang Bei and then gave a gentle smile.
“As for going public or not, that’s always a personal choice. I never intended to pressure him.”
As soon as Gao Qinghe heard Lin Xi bring up feminism and gender opposition, she felt an automatic irritation.
Back when she was still Gao Jingdong, she’d had plenty of arguments with Lin Xi over these exact issues.
Rather than listening to Lin Xi blather on stage, she’d rather hear Zhao Yuqi’s rambling.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush with you. Before he met Lin Xi, the women around Xiang Bei were all your type,” Zhao Yuqi spoke again.
“Pretty, good figure, soft and delicate—women like that who lack much agency are a dime a dozen.”
She paused.
“But even if he liked that type, so what? He never actually got into a relationship with any of those women.”
…She took back what she just thought.
On stage, as if responding to Zhao Yuqi’s words, Xiang Bei’s voice rang out.
He was answering the host’s follow-up question about why he had chosen not to go public at the time, his tone confident with a hint of playfulness:
“I know my image has always been easily misunderstood. ‘Playboy,’ ‘rich heir’—I’ve always been easy to label like that. But the truth is, before Lin Xi, I’d never been in a romantic relationship with anyone. Going public with a relationship is actually pretty foreign to me.”
He watched with satisfaction as the audience buzzed, then deliberately flashed a self-deprecating smile.
“If I had to choose now, I would absolutely go public without hesitation and stand by Lin Xi’s side.”
He paused, turning to Lin Xi, his profile full of affection.
“But back then, I was timid, afraid that my image would bring Lin Xi even more gossip and slander.”
The audience murmured again.
Gao Qinghe pricked up her ears and caught mostly people shocked by how devoted Xiang Bei seemed.
What an act! If he was truly that loyal to Lin Xi, would he be flirting around with her?
Gao Qinghe silently sighed, but she felt a bit uncertain inside.
If what Zhao Yuqi said was true—that Lin Xi wasn’t even his type—then why would he be with her, and even go public?
“Tsk, he sure says all the right things.”
Gao Qinghe abruptly turned her head to see Zhao Yuqi, who had just voiced what she was thinking, holding her champagne glass with both arms crossed.
“Oh, don’t misunderstand.”
Zhao Yuqi saw Gao Qinghe turn and turned to look back at her.
“Xiang Bei does like to play around. But I’ve never heard of him getting into a relationship with another woman.”
She took another sip of champagne and pursed her lips.
“Lin Xi must really attract him. After all, a woman with her looks, family background, talent, and intellect—there aren’t many in this world.”
Zhao Yuqi shrugged.
“Ah, but there’s no helping it. Born with a silver spoon, their perspective and level are different from the start. How could someone who hasn’t seen the world have any real thoughts?”
What the hell was wrong with Zhao Yuqi?
Why did she keep bringing this up?
Talk about rubbing salt in the wound!
Gao Qinghe’s fingers couldn’t help twisting the gauze hem of her skirt again.
She downed the champagne in one gulp.
The bubbles surged up her throat, making her voice catch:
“If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m not going to sit here with you. Let me through. I’m getting another drink.”
Zhao Yuqi gave a gentle smile, as if she had been expecting this.
“Gao Qinghe, I suggest you stop being so fixated on Xiang Bei,” she said, not in a hurry to uncross her legs as Gao Qinghe tried to stand, but didn’t make way for her.
“Why not just be a model and make good money? Isn’t that better than latching onto a rich heir? Focus on your work. Once you have money, what can’t you get?”
What did that mean?
Could it be that she went through all this trouble just to nag her about not taking time off?
Gao Qinghe frowned, trying to read the emotions behind Zhao Yuqi’s smile.
“I came up step by step through hard work myself, so I can understand your mindset.”
She raised her glass leisurely.
“I can give you another chance. I took some photos of you earlier, and one of them I think is usable. Let’s sign an agreement, you authorize me to use that one photo, and I’ll make an exception—I can let you become a regular model for our magazine. That’s not out of the question.”