Incurable Chapter 2 Part 1

Mu Wan burst out laughing. Still laughing, she rolled the window up, started the car, and drove off.

So that really was Daoist Liu, pure and untouched by desire.

She headed home to the city’s north end. Two months ago, she’d bought a secondhand apartment in Qinghe Mengyuan, one of those old residential communities in the older part of Xia City. The buildings were over thirty years old.

It was the classic “old, small, and shabby” right in the city center. The place was worn, sure, but the location was good. Everything you needed was nearby. Life there felt easy in a grounded, everyday kind of way.

Mu Wan had only graduated two years ago, and two years of filming pay had barely covered the down payment. She was still paying the mortgage every month, on schedule, like a grown-up who had no choice but to be responsible.

The apartment was old enough to have opinions. The previous owner’s decor was pure 1980s, and the furniture and appliances were all half-dead. Lin Wei, an interior designer, had convinced Mu Wan not to do a full renovation. Instead, she’d helped her freshen it up lightly, leaning into a Taiwanese-inspired cottage style that made the place feel softer and less tired.

The complex didn’t have parking. Mu Wan left her car at the alley entrance and walked in.

Even though the community was old, it was packed with residents. It was dinner time. Aunties and uncles carried vegetable baskets, chatting in dialect, already making plans to go dance in the little park after they ate. Creeping ivy covered half the building walls, wrapping itself around the metal bars by stairwell windows. In the faded, crumbling corners of the place, the warmth of daily life still burned brightly.

There were only six buildings total, arranged in two rows. Mu Wan lived in the first building of the last row.

She pushed into the stairwell, climbed to the third floor, and unlocked the door on the left.

The living room switch was right by the entrance. Mu Wan flicked it on. Pale, milky light spilled across the room.

Seventy square meters, no more. The living room wasn’t big, but it was clean, tidy, and unexpectedly comforting.

The tension she’d been carrying all day finally loosened. Mu Wan dropped onto the sofa arm, then let herself fall back fully, stretching out as she’d run out of bones.

She’d been filming all morning. At noon, she’d taken the high-speed rail back. She hadn’t even unpacked before rushing straight to the hospital to see Lin Wei. Now her body had nothing left to give.

Outside, the rain started up again, soft and persistent. Through the patter, Mu Wan heard two distinct meows.

In a community like this, even pet cats lived like strays. At night, you’d find them everywhere under trees and in bushes. No one bothered to spay or neuter. Left to their own devices, they multiplied fast. The neighborhood had cats the way some places had pigeons.

Lin Wei had once told her she was like a cat. Wild. Lazy in a beautiful way. Unbothered. She’d even tried to convince Mu Wan to adopt one.

Mu Wan had refused.

She wasn’t lonely. She didn’t need companionship. A cat in the house would only add to the attachment, and neither of them would be free.

Thinking of cats, she remembered the hospital again. The way the man’s lashes lifted slightly, the way fractured light lay beneath his eyes.

Mu Wan raised her wrist and covered her eyes, and a low laugh slipped out.

She ate dinner and fell asleep early.

No dreams.

In the morning, her phone’s ringer dragged her out of sleep. She opened her eyes to a sky the color of wet cement. It wasn’t raining, but the weather still hadn’t cleared.

Rainy season humidity clung to everything. The air felt damp, as if it had weight.

She reached for her phone. The caller ID read Li Nan.

She answered, voice still thick with sleep. “Hello, sir.”

Li Nan was her agent. In Xinzhou Entertainment, he was the only agent, so all seven or eight of his artists called him that. Mu Wan had signed with Xinzhou right after graduation. The company was small, but it didn’t withhold pay, didn’t trap people with brutal clauses, and had just enough resources to keep her working. For someone like her, it fit.

“Tomorrow night at seven,” Li Nan said. “Director Zhang Chengze is hosting a dinner at Qingsong Pavilion. He’s preparing a TV drama. Mi Yu will be there to audition. You two go together.”

Mu Wan wasn’t important enough to have endless social obligations, but she wasn’t completely exempt either. In this industry, dinners and drinking were routine. She attended maybe two or three a month.

This dinner wasn’t really for her. The main focus was Mi Yu, Li Nan’s hottest artist, the one who’d once played the second female lead in a massively popular drama. Mu Wan would be there as a formality. Sit in the corner, eat, toast when appropriate, make an appearance. If she were lucky, someone would toss her a small role after seeing her face.

Mu Wan agreed to everything. Li Nan gave a couple more instructions and hung up.

After the call, she stripped and headed for the bathroom. The damp chill clung to her skin, making her feel sticky and uncomfortable. She showered, then took a glass cup and her toothbrush and started brushing.

She hadn’t even finished when Lin Wei called again.

Mu Wan set the cup down and answered with the toothbrush still between her teeth.

“You got work today?”

“No.”

“Then bring me congee from Xu Ji!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mu Wan mumbled around the foam.

She’d woken up early specifically to bring it. Lin Wei was from Jing City. Her parents and younger brother were back there, so she had no one to care for her in the hospital. Mu Wan understood that kind of isolation, too. She didn’t have parents anymore either. If she ever landed in a hospital bed, it would be Lin Wei at her side.

As she spoke, she heard cats meowing downstairs again. She walked to the window, lifted the curtain, and looked down.

A few cats were tangled together, tussling in a messy little brawl. Mu Wan smiled.

“What are you smiling at?” Lin Wei asked. “Why do you sound so… happy?”

Mu Wan let the curtain fall and turned away from the window. “I ran into Daoist Liu at the hospital last night.”

Then she told Lin Wei what happened.

“What happened next?” Lin Wei practically squealed. “Tell me.”

“I asked if he likes cats. He said yes. So I meowed at him.”

Lin Wei screamed into the phone.

When she finally calmed down, she said, “Brilliant, Ms. Mu. Absolutely brilliant. All those women falling at his feet, and you just went ‘meow’ and claimed him.”

“I didn’t claim anything,” Mu Wan said blandly. “I was joking. I’m healthy. I won’t be in an emergency. We probably won’t even meet again.”

She tipped her head back. Toothpaste bubbled at her lips as she spoke, words turning into a ridiculous gurgle. “Alright, I’m hanging up. I need to rinse and get ready, then I’ll bring you the congee.”

She ended the call quickly.

The sink was in the bathroom. Mu Wan grabbed the glass cup, which she’d left on the living room table while brushing, and hurried toward the bathroom.

She had barely stepped inside when it happened.

A loud bang.

The dull impact of a body hitting the floor, followed by the sharp, unmistakable crash of glass breaking.

Silence.

Then, after a moment, a woman’s low, pained groan.

Twenty minutes after declaring she would never end up in the emergency, Mu Wan went there.

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