Incurable Chapter 3 Part 1

Mu Wan was sent for an X-ray. The results showed that the glass had neither pierced her heart nor injured her chest wall. It was only a superficial wound. Still, because of where she had been hurt, she needed to stay in the hospital for observation.

After treating her injury and giving her a few instructions, Liu Qianxiu left to tend to other patients. A nurse escorted Mu Wan to the surgical ward, and Lin Wei followed her to the room.

Yesterday, Mu Wan had been sitting beside the bed while Lin Wei sat on it. Today, their positions have been reversed.

The moment Lin Wei sat down, she crossed her legs, folded her arms, and fixed Mu Wan with a sharp stare. “Did you and Daoist Liu know each other before this?”

Leaning against the headboard, Mu Wan moved her shoulder a little. The wound had been numbed and treated, so it didn’t hurt—only it itched faintly. “If I’d known him before, why wouldn’t I have told you?”

On that point, Lin Wei did believe her. But remembering how indifferent Liu Qianxiu usually was, and how he had actually said Mu Wan’s birthmark was beautiful, she still found it unbelievable. Stroking her chin, she asked, “Could it be that you forgot?”

Mu Wan said, “Does Daoist Liu look like the kind of face people would forget?”

He absolutely did not.

Lin Wei knew that much from experience. The first time she had seen him, she had felt she would remember him for the rest of her life.

“Then he must be interested in you,” Lin Wei concluded with broad and highly questionable logic. “Daoist Liu only pays attention to things he likes. If he said your birthmark was beautiful, then basically he was saying you’re beautiful.”

Lin Wei’s analysis was nonsense. Mu Wan did not see it that way. Recalling Liu Qianxiu’s fathomless eyes, she said, “How could an immortal fall for a mortal that easily? Maybe bamboo-leaf-shaped birthmarks are rare. Or maybe they carry some special meaning in Taoism. Taoists can be pretty mystical sometimes.”

Compared with Lin Wei’s theory, Mu Wan’s explanation sounded much more convincing.

Lin Wei looked up at her. Color had already returned to Mu Wan’s face; she no longer looked as ghostly pale as she had in the bathroom that morning. Living alone, if anything happened to her, the only person she could call was Lin Wei. This time, luckily, the glass had missed her heart. Otherwise, even if the ambulance had arrived early, it might not have saved her.

The thought left Lin Wei a little shaken.

Leaning back in her chair, she said, “But when I was handling your admission paperwork just now, the nurse said it was the first time she’d ever heard Doctor Liu compliment someone. That means you are kind of special. Think about it—you saw him yesterday, then today you ended up in the emergency, and he was the one who treated you. That’s pretty fated. Doctors earn decent money too, about the same as you, an eighteenth-tier actress. You two would make quite a good match—talented man, beautiful woman.”

Listening to this string of reasoning, Mu Wan let one leg dangle off the bed. Rainy weather always made her legs feel a little uncomfortable. “At this rate, you’ll have names picked out for our kids in another minute.”

Mu Wan was joking, her tone light and unbothered, but Lin Wei sighed inwardly and asked, “Tell me honestly—are you planning to spend your whole life alone?”

Lin Wei and Mu Wan had been high school classmates. Lin Wei had transferred for the college entrance exams and attended high school in Xiacheng, ending up in the same class as Mu Wan. Mu Wan had been beautiful even then. Boys lined up to pursue her, but by the time high school ended, she still had never dated anyone.

After university and after moving out of the Mu family home, she spent all her time filming to pay tuition and cover living expenses. She never dated then either. She had never met her father, and the Mu family had always treated her like an outsider. In truth, from the year her mother died onward, Mu Wan had already been living alone in every way that mattered.

“It depends,” Mu Wan said. Having lived by herself for so long, she had plenty of time to think about life and had formed her own standards. “If I’m comfortable alone, then I’ll stay alone. But if there’s someone who can make me even more comfortable than I already am, then I can live with him too.”

“Then Daoist Liu sounds perfect,” Lin Wei said, as though catching a glimmer of hope.

Seeing how Lin Wei kept looking for openings to push the subject, Mu Wan asked, “Are you afraid I’ll get lonely and cling to you, so you’re trying to push me toward someone else?”

“Have you ever really felt loneliness?” Lin Wei asked. Then she scratched her head, her eyes dimming a little. “You really should try living with someone sometime. Or raise a cat. Then you’d understand. It’s not that you’re not afraid of loneliness. You’re just used to it.”

Mu Wan knew Lin Wei was only worried about her, but she had no desire to make her life tragic in her own mind. So she changed the subject and asked, “Do you have any normal clothes here?”

Lin Wei glanced at Mu Wan in her hospital gown, still not fully out of the mood from a moment ago. “What for?”

“I have a dinner gathering tonight,” Mu Wan said. “I can’t go out wearing this.”

Lin Wei’s face hardened. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I had a chest X-ray. It’s nothing serious. Just a flesh wound,” Mu Wan said. “I already missed one dinner before. If I skip this one too, it’ll look bad.”

“Then tell your agent you ended up in emergency today and almost died, so you can’t go,” Lin Wei said.

Mu Wan shook her head. “No. I still have work this week. If I don’t film, how am I supposed to pay my mortgage?”

Lin Wei: “...”

Mu Wan did not borrow Lin Wei’s clothes. She simply wore her own clothes home, then changed into a loose red cotton-linen dress. The dress was roomy enough that it didn’t rub against the wound. But by evening, the anesthetic had worn off, and her left shoulder was practically useless with pain.

Mi Yu was brought over by Li Nan. As the most popular artist under him, Mi Yu’s schedule was something he followed closely almost every step of the way. She was thirty this year and had taken good care of herself, but after years of makeup and sleepless nights filming, signs of age were beginning to show. Of course, signs of age on a celebrity were different from signs of age on an ordinary person—she still looked only twenty-six or twenty-seven and remained very beautiful.

When the two of them arrived, Mu Wan greeted them. “Boss. Sister Yu.”

Mi Yu was wearing sunglasses. She had a certain level of public recognition, so even going out required at least a bit of disguise. Hearing Mu Wan’s greeting, she turned her gaze over, though behind the dark lenses her expression could not be seen.

Li Nan noticed that something seemed off about Mu Wan’s left arm and asked, “What happened to your arm?”

“Got hurt a little,” Mu Wan answered.

“Mm.” Li Nan’s tone was flat. He glanced at Mi Yu, then said to Mu Wan, “Mi Yu still has scenes to shoot tonight. Director Zhang likes to drink, so at the dinner later, help her by making a few extra toasts.”

Mu Wan had attended enough dinners to know the routine. Her alcohol tolerance was decent, and a few rounds of toasts were nothing unusual. Some of the company’s resources had come from Mi Yu recommending her after auditions, so helping her drink was only fair.

“All right. Got it,” Mu Wan said.

As they were speaking, the elevator arrived. Mi Yu stepped in first. Mu Wan followed. Once the doors closed, neither of them said another word.

Mi Yu was the company’s most successful actress, and also a senior. Her temper was not especially good, and she was a bit proud. She never formed close ties with the other artists in the company.

Mu Wan remembered that when she first signed with Xinzhou Entertainment, Mi Yu had already been there. At the time, Mi Yu was riding high on popularity, and even then Mu Wan sensed some hostility from her.

That was how the entertainment industry worked. New actors came in waves. Being young and beautiful already meant being ninety percent of the way to success.

Mu Wan just happened to lack the remaining ten percent.

She had no ambition at all. Gradually, Mi Yu realized this, and her hostility diminished.

The moment they stepped out of the elevator, someone came to receive them. Qingsong Pavilion was enormous, decorated in a traditional Chinese style. Folding screens, wooden doors, landscape paintings, red lanterns hanging high overhead—everything was elegant and elaborate.

The venue was divided into east, south, west, and north sections. At the very center was a pond, with a pavilion built above it. Four small bridges extended from the pavilion toward the four sections, making the whole place feel refined and picturesque.

Director Zhang’s gathering was in the north section. Mu Wan followed Mi Yu, behind a waitress dressed in Hanfu, down from the pavilion and into the north section’s corridor.

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