Incurable Chapter 3 Part 1

Mu Wan went for an X-ray. The results came back clean—no puncture to the heart, no injury to the chest wall, just a superficial wound. Still, the location was sensitive, so the hospital wanted her admitted for observation.

After Liu Qianxiu cleaned and dressed the wound and explained the precautions, he left to attend to other patients. A nurse escorted Mu Wan up to the surgical inpatient ward, and Lin Wei followed along to the room.

Yesterday, Mu Wan sat by the bed while Lin Wei lay in it.

Today, they’d swapped places.

The moment Lin Wei sat down, she crossed her legs, folded her arms, and fixed Mu Wan with a sharp look.

“Tell me the truth. Did you know Daoist Liu before this?”

Mu Wan leaned back against the headboard. The wound had been numbed and treated, so it didn’t hurt now. It just itched a little. She shifted her shoulder carefully.

“If I’d known him, wouldn’t I have told you?”

Lin Wei believed that, mostly. But the image wouldn’t leave her head: Liu Qianxiu, who was famously indifferent to everything, was actually praising Mu Wan’s birthmark as beautiful.

It felt unreal.

Lin Wei rubbed her chin, still suspicious. “Could it be you forgot him?”

Mu Wan gave her a look. “Is he the kind of face you forget?”

Absolutely not. Lin Wei had taken one look at him and practically carved his features into her soul.

“Then he’s into you,” Lin Wei declared, rounding up hard and calling it math. “Daoist Liu only cares about what he likes. If he said your birthmark is beautiful, he’s saying you’re beautiful.”

Lin Wei’s analysis was pure wishful thinking. Mu Wan didn’t buy it. She thought about those eyes, dark and deep enough to drown in.

“Immortals don’t fall for mortals that easily,” Mu Wan said. “Maybe a bamboo-leaf birthmark is rare. Or maybe it means something in Daoism. Daoists can be… mysterious.”

Compared to Lin Wei’s romantic leap, Mu Wan’s explanation sounded more reasonable.

Lin Wei studied her friend. Mu Wan’s color had returned, no longer that frightening bathroom-white from earlier. Lin Wei lived alone, too. If something happened to her, she’d have no one to call but Mu Wan, and vice versa. It was only luck that the shard hadn’t gone deeper. If it had, even an ambulance might not have been enough.

The aftershock hit Lin Wei late. She leaned back, a little shaken.

“But when I did your admission paperwork,” she said, “the nurse told me she’s never heard Doctor Liu compliment anyone before. That means you’re still special.”

Lin Wei’s eyes glittered with the kind of hope that refused to die.

“Look at you two. You saw Liu Qianxiu yesterday, today you land in the ER, and he’s the one who treats you. That’s fate. And doctors make good money, too, probably about the same as you, an eighteen-line actress. You’re both good-looking. Honestly, you match.”

Mu Wan listened, amused despite herself. The damp weather made her leg ache faintly. She let one leg hang off the bed and said, “Give it five more minutes, and you’ll be naming our future kids.”

Mu Wan’s tone was light, but her interest wasn’t there. Lin Wei sighed quietly.

“Tell me something,” Lin Wei said. “Are you really planning to live alone forever?”

They’d been classmates in high school. Lin Wei had transferred to Xia City for school. Back then, Mu Wan had been the kind of pretty that drew crowds. Boys lined up to chase her, yet she never dated any of them.

Then she went to college, moved out of the Mu family home, and spent all her time filming to pay tuition and living expenses. No dating then either. She’d never known her father, and the Mu family treated her like an outsider. In truth, Mu Wan had been living alone since the year her mother died.

“It depends,” Mu Wan said. She had plenty of time to think, living by herself. She’d built her own rules for life. “If I’m comfortable alone, I’ll stay alone. If someone comes along who makes life even more comfortable, I can live with him too.”

Lin Wei latched on immediately. “Then Daoist Liu is perfect.”

Mu Wan stared at her. “Are you trying to shove me into a relationship because you’re afraid I’ll get lonely and cling to you?”

Lin Wei’s expression dimmed. “Have you ever felt lonely?”

Then she scratched her head, voice softer. “You really should try living with someone, just once. Or get a cat. Then you’ll understand. It’s not that you’re not afraid of loneliness. It’s that you’re used to it.”

Mu Wan knew Lin Wei was worried, and she didn’t want to let the mood sink into something too bleak. She changed the topic.

“Do you have any everyday clothes here?”

Lin Wei blinked, looking at Mu Wan in the hospital gown. “Why?”

“I have a dinner to attend tonight. I can’t go out dressed like this.”

Lin Wei’s face went hard. “Are you out of your mind? Do you want to die?”

“I got a chest X-ray. It’s fine. Just a superficial wound,” Mu Wan said. “I skipped one dinner already. If I skip again, it’ll look bad.”

“Then tell your agent you went to the ER today and almost died,” Lin Wei snapped. “Tell him you can’t go.”

Mu Wan shook her head. “I can’t. I still have gigs this week. If I don’t work, how am I supposed to pay my mortgage?”

Lin Wei went silent, defeated by capitalism.

In the end, Mu Wan didn’t wear Lin Wei’s clothes to the dinner. She only borrowed them to go home. Once there, she changed into a loose red cotton-linen dress. The cut was relaxed, and it didn’t touch her wound. But when the anesthetic wore off that night, her left shoulder might as well have been dead. She could barely move it.

Mi Yu arrived with Li Nan. As his biggest star, she was basically tied to his schedule. She was thirty this year, well-maintained, but years of heavy makeup and sleepless shoots had left faint traces. Still, in celebrity terms, “showing age” was different. She looked twenty-six or twenty-seven at most, and she was still very beautiful.

Mu Wan greeted them. “Sir. Sister Yu.”

Mi Yu wore sunglasses. She had enough public recognition that she needed at least a little disguise when she went out. At Mu Wan’s greeting, her gaze swept over. Behind the lenses, her expression was unreadable.

Li Nan noticed Mu Wan’s left arm. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Got hurt,” Mu Wan replied.

Li Nan hummed, indifferent. He glanced at Mi Yu, then said to Mu Wan, “Mi Yu has a night shoot after this. Director Zhang likes to drink. Later, you help her with a few toasts.”

Mu Wan had been to enough dinners to know the rules. Her tolerance was decent. A few rounds of toasts wouldn’t kill her. Besides, some of the company’s opportunities came from Mi Yu’s auditions and recommendations. Helping her was part of the unspoken exchange.

“Okay,” Mu Wan said. “Got it.”

The elevator arrived. Mi Yu stepped in first. Mu Wan followed. The doors closed, and the ride up was silent.

Mi Yu was the company’s top star and an older senior in the business. Her temper wasn’t great. She could be proud, and she didn’t mingle much with the other artists.

Mu Wan remembered when she’d first signed to Xinzhou. Mi Yu had already been there, at the height of her momentum. Even then, Mu Wan could feel the hostility, subtle but sharp.

The industry was like that. The newer you were, the younger you were, the prettier you were, the closer you were to winning. Mu Wan had ninety percent of that equation. She didn’t have the last ten percent.

Because she didn’t want it badly enough.

Over time, Mi Yu became aware of her lack of ambition. The hostility faded.

As soon as they stepped out, someone came to meet them. Qingsong Pavilion was large and ornate, decorated in a classic Chinese style: carved wood screens, landscape paintings, and red lanterns hanging high. The venue was divided into four sections: east, south, west, and north. In the center was a pond with a pavilion, and four small bridges leading out to the four areas. Elegant, quiet, expensive in a way that wanted to look effortless.

Director Zhang’s gathering was in the north section. Mu Wan followed behind Mi Yu and a server dressed in hanfu. They crossed under the pavilion and entered the northern corridor.

Right before turning in, Mu Wan’s gaze flicked sideways, catching a tall, upright figure from behind.

She stopped without thinking and looked again.

The eastern corridor was empty and still.

Mu Wan had been to Qingsong Pavilion a few times. She knew the east section was for VIPs only. Money alone didn’t guarantee access.

And yet for a split second, she’d thought that back looked like Liu Qianxiu.

She knew his silhouette. She’d seen it clearly in her rearview mirror the night she meowed and drove away.

It had to be a mistake. Liu Qianxiu had no reason to be here.

When they reached the private room, most people were already present. The moment Mi Yu stepped inside, the face she’d worn all the way here bloomed into a bright, practiced smile.

Director Zhang Chengze was a second-tier TV drama director. Mi Yu had worked with him before. The new drama he was preparing was reportedly backed by Shen Entertainment, making it a valuable project. Mi Yu was clearly aiming for the female lead.

There were actors everywhere, fifteen at least, maybe twenty. They sat around a large table. Mi Yu was the biggest name in the room by far.

Mu Wan was nobody, but she was there to support Mi Yu, so she sat beside her. The moment she took her seat, she poured the first three cups for the director and toasted him.

After that, the atmosphere warmed quickly. Mu Wan’s arm hurt, and her appetite was low. She ate a few bites lazily, then heard Director Zhang snort.

“Shen Entertainment thinks they’re so impressive,” he scoffed. “If they don’t invest, do you really think I can’t make a show?”

A few producers and crew members immediately chimed in, loudly flattering one another. Mu Wan caught the slight shift in Mi Yu’s expression.

Shen Entertainment was the largest entertainment company in the industry. Their artists and capital were top-tier. Sure, a drama could be made without them, but the quality and the reach usually took a hit.

A supervising producer raised his glass and said, “The Shen family only gets that swagger because they’re leaning on the Liu family. Without the Lius, they’d be nothing.”

The room latched onto the topic like it had been starving for it.

After another round of toasts for Mi Yu, Mi Yu lowered her head to check her phone. Mu Wan leaned back in her chair and overheard several actresses nearby still gossiping about the Shen family.

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