Incurable Chapter 2 Part 1

Chapter 2 (1/2)

Mu Wan burst into laughter.

Still chuckling, she rolled up the car window, started the engine, and drove off.

Truly worthy of the name Daoist Liu—completely detached from worldly desires.

Mu Wan drove home. She lived in the northern district of the city. Two months ago, she had bought a resale apartment in the Qinghe Mengyuan community, nestled in the old town of Xia City. The buildings there were over thirty years old.

These were typical small, weathered apartments in the city center. Run-down, yes, but the location was prime, surrounded by well-developed facilities that made daily life unexpectedly comfortable.

Mu Wan had only graduated two years ago. The money she had scraped together from minor acting roles was just enough for the down payment, and now she was paying off her mortgage month by month.

The apartment itself was a relic. The previous owner’s decor was stuck in the 1980s, the furniture and appliances worn to their bones. Lin Wei, being an interior designer, had stepped in. Since Mu Wan didn’t want to do any major renovations, Lin Wei gave it a simple redesign with a lean toward Taiwanese pastoral style—warm wood tones, soft fabrics, a rustic, lived-in charm that softened the building’s age.

The community didn’t have dedicated parking spaces, so Mu Wan left her car at the alley’s entrance and walked the rest of the way.

Despite its age, the neighborhood was alive. It was dinner time, and elderly neighbors returning from the market carried woven baskets, chatting in thick dialect and inviting each other to square dancing in the small park after their meals. Ivy crept up half the building walls, winding around the iron railings by the stairwell windows. In this old, crumbling community, the comforting, vibrant warmth of everyday life seeped from every crack.

Her community had only six buildings, arranged in two rows. She lived in the first building of the back row.

Pushing open the heavy iron door into the stairwell, Mu Wan climbed to the third floor and slid her key into the lock on the left.

Right by the door was the switch for the living room light. With a click, milky-white light flooded the room. The entire apartment was only seventy square meters. The living room wasn’t large, but it was clean and tidy, looking exceptionally cozy under the warm glow.

The tension she had been carrying all day completely dissolved the moment she stepped inside.

Mu Wan plopped down onto the sofa’s armrest, then let gravity win, collapsing flat onto the cushions.

She had been filming all morning, taken the high-speed train back at noon, and rushed straight to the hospital to see Lin Wei without even unpacking. Now, her body was running on fumes.

Outside the window, the rain began again, soft and persistent. Amidst the pitter-patter, Mu Wan heard two faint meows.

In these old, run-down communities, pet cats were practically raised like strays. They wandered out at night, and under the trees and in the bushes, cats were everywhere. Unspayed and unneutered, they bred rapidly, resulting in an overflowing population of felines in every size and color.

Lin Wei had once said Mu Wan was a lot like a cat—wild, languid, and easygoing. She had even urged her to adopt one, but Mu Wan had refused.

She wasn’t lonely, nor did she need a cat’s companionship. Having one in the house would just add another living thing to worry about; neither she nor the cat would be truly free.

Thinking of cats, Mu Wan remembered the scene at the hospital. The man had slightly raised his eyelashes, fragmented lights reflecting in his deep, still eyes.

She raised her wrist to cover her own and chuckled softly into the quiet room.

Exhausted, Mu Wan ate a quick dinner and went to sleep. She had a dreamless night, only to be dragged back to consciousness by her phone’s ringtone the next morning.

Opening her eyes, she saw the sky outside was a hazy, undecided gray. Not raining, but not clearing either.

The humidity during the rainy season was relentless, the air damp and clammy against her skin. Mu Wan reached for her phone. The screen displayed Li Nan.

She answered, her voice still rough with sleep.

“Hey, Boss.”

Li Nan was Mu Wan’s agent—the only agent at Xinzhou Entertainment, where all seven or eight of the artists under him called him “Boss.” Mu Wan had signed with the company right after graduation. It wasn’t big, but it didn’t withhold acting fees, had no tyrannical contract clauses, and offered a moderate amount of resources. It suited her perfectly.

“Tomorrow night at seven, Director Zhang Chengze is organizing a dinner at Qingsong Pavilion,” Li Nan arranged briskly through the speaker. “He’s preparing to film a new TV series. Mi Yu will be going to audition, and you two will go together.”

For a minor actress like Mu Wan, social engagements were sparse but not nonexistent. Being in this arena of fame and profit, eating and drinking at banquets was simply part of the job. She probably attended two or three such events a month.

The focus of this dinner was Mi Yu, the most popular artist under Li Nan. At her peak, Mi Yu had played the second female lead in a massively hit drama. Mu Wan was just tagging along—eating quietly in the corner, making polite toasts to show her face, and in return, a minor role would be arranged for her.

Mu Wan agreed to everything without complaint. After Li Nan rattled off a couple more instructions, he hung up.

Setting her phone aside, Mu Wan peeled off her sleep clothes and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The cool, damp weather had left a clammy film on her skin that she couldn’t stand.

After showering, she grabbed her glass and toothbrush and started brushing her teeth, foam building in her mouth. She hadn’t even finished when Lin Wei’s call came buzzing in.

Spitting a mouthful of foam into the sink, Mu Wan answered the phone with her toothbrush still wedged between her teeth.

“Any schedule today?”

“No.”

“Bring porridge from Xu’s Porridge Shop and come see me!”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

Mu Wan had woken up early specifically to bring her porridge anyway. Lin Wei was from Jing City; her parents and younger brother were all there, so no one was around to look after her in the hospital. And since Mu Wan had no family to speak of, whenever she got sick, it was always Lin Wei who showed up. They took care of each other. That was the arrangement.

After hanging up, Mu Wan heard the cats downstairs meowing again.

She padded over to the living room window and lifted the curtain. Below, a few cats were tangled together in the bushes, play-fighting in the gray morning light.

Mu Wan smiled.

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