Incurable Chapter 8 Part 1

The sky had only cleared for two days before the rain came back.

In June and July, Xia City’s plum rains fell in fine, tight threads, veiling everything in mist. Dark clouds pressed low, turning the whole world heavy and tense.

Thud.

Mu Wan hit the ground hard, mud splashing up in a dirty burst.

She sucked in a sharp breath, cursed under her breath, and pushed herself up fast.

“Cut!” the director shouted. “That’s a wrap.”

The scene was finally approved.

Her costume barely looked like it had ever been fabric. It clung to her, soaked through, smeared with mud. When she fell, the sludge had slapped across half her face, leaving the other half pale and clean, her eyes dark and bright beneath wet lashes.

She thanked the assistant director, then dragged herself to the lounge to change. There were no showers in the film town. She went to the restroom and washed her face in the sink. She was still dripping when she reached for tissues, and someone held a piece out to her.

Mu Wan glanced to the side, smiled, and took it.

Gao Mei watched her dab at her face. A red patch bloomed on Mu Wan’s fair skin, likely an allergic reaction to the filthy mud. Gao Mei’s eyes narrowed into a sympathetic slit, anger rising underneath the concern.

“Mi Yu is seriously too much,” she muttered. “If she’s in a bad mood, why take it out on other people?”

Gao Mei was a friend Mu Wan met on her first production after graduating. Like Mu Wan, she lived in supporting roles. The difference was that Mu Wan was the “pretty vase” type, while Gao Mei was comic relief. She was chubby, round-faced, and adorable, like a soft snow mochi. They ran into each other on sets constantly, and once filming wrapped, they’d often eat together.

Today’s scene was a shared one with Mi Yu. Even during shooting, Mu Wan could feel that Mi Yu’s mood was sharp and ugly. They’d reset four times, and every time it was because of Mi Yu. Every time, Mu Wan had to dive into the mud again.

“What happened to her?” Mu Wan asked.

She dried her hands, then spread a layer of anti-allergy ointment over her skin. It cooled instantly, with a faint minty scent.

Mu Wan and Mi Yu worked together often at the same agency, but Mu Wan didn’t know her well and rarely asked about her personal life.

“She got her role snatched,” Gao Mei said. Years of supporting parts had built her a wide web of gossip. She leaned back against the restroom counter, arms crossed, watching Mu Wan apply the ointment. “Zhang Chengze had a drama lined up, and Mi Yu was set to be the female lead. Then, the Shen Group injected money and sent over a rookie. Mi Yu got bumped to female second.”

Mu Wan remembered that project. She’d even attended the dinner and helped Mi Yu toast people, and in the end, Liu Qianxiu had dragged her back to the hospital.

Back then, Shen pulled their investment, Zhang Chengze cursed that Shen only looked powerful because they leaned on the Liu family, and Mi Yu hadn’t been eager to take the job.

Now Shen had invested again. The director agreed without hesitation to let Shen’s newcomer take the lead. Mi Yu, even as a female second lead, still wanted the role, but her resentment was boiling over.

The industry was that blunt.

Money decided everything.

Mu Wan finished tidying herself and said evenly, “If Shen is investing, a female second isn’t bad.”

Gao Mei hummed in agreement, then asked, “Are you leaving now? Wait for me, let’s get skewers tonight.”

“I can’t,” Mu Wan said. “I’ve got something. One of my kittens is hospitalized, and I need to go see him.”

She planned to check on Zhong Fen first, then go to Liu Qianxiu’s place to see Da Tou and Er Tong.

She spoke, then suddenly felt a surge of urgency in her chest. She grabbed her bag and started walking, but halfway out she stopped, braced a hand on the doorframe, and turned back.

“There’s someone who helped me out, and he even fed me,” she said. “I want to give him a gift. What should I get?”

Gao Mei blinked. “What kind of help? Is he a friend?”

“He’s helping me take care of the kittens,” Mu Wan said after a moment. “Not really a friend. We’ve only crossed paths twice.”

Gao Mei didn’t automatically picture a man when she heard “taking care of kittens.” She started thinking like a best friend on a mission.

“Buy flowers. Fresh, pretty…” Her eyes dropped suddenly. “Wait. What happened to your leg?”

Mu Wan’s knee had a scrape, blood seeping out in a thin smear, vivid against her pale, straight leg.

The wound itched a little. Mu Wan glanced down and shrugged it off.

“Just scraped it filming. Doesn’t hurt. I’m going.”

She left before Gao Mei could lecture her.

Mu Wan went to the pet hospital first.

Zhong Fen was already much livelier after a day of treatment. The vet told her he could be discharged tomorrow.

“You didn’t bring your boyfriend today?” the vet asked casually as they stepped out of the observation room, smiling.

So it wasn’t only the neighbor who misunderstood.

Mu Wan lifted her eyes to the vet and laughed. “Do we look that well-matched?”

The vet answered without thinking. “Yeah. You two look amazing together.”

Then it hit him. If they were actually a couple, the vet wouldn’t ask that question.

He shifted, embarrassed and regretful, and his eyes carried a hint of disappointment. “Oh, you’re not? Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Last night, after they left, the staff talked about them. A man with that kind of quiet elegance, a woman with that kind of bright beauty, it was hard not to assume a story.

Mu Wan only smiled and walked out.

She didn’t go far.

She stopped at a nearby flower shop and bought a bouquet in deep indigo tones: roses, lilies, and orchids woven together, with two birds of paradise in the center. Elegant, vivid, clean.

With the bouquet in her arms, she hailed a cab.

The moment she got in, the driver glanced back and grinned. “Smells amazing. From your boyfriend?”

“No.” Mu Wan hugged the flowers close, the fragrance rising around her like a private cloud. She lifted her head, eyes bright. “For my boyfriend.”

The driver laughed. “Nice.”

With the warm satisfaction of someone witnessing youthful romance, he asked, “Where does your boyfriend live?”

Mu Wan gave him the address.

When he heard “Nanfeng Apartments,” the driver snapped a photo of his “empty cab” sign and turned on the turn signal.

“Miss, let’s take Qiyun Road. I just came from Zhongshan Road. It’s jammed.”

It was a little after six, peak hour. The rain had stopped, but the sky stayed dark, as if it were holding another downpour in reserve. Taking Qiyun Road would mean a detour.

Mu Wan looked out at the gloom and traffic and asked, “Why is Zhongshan Road jammed? It’s usually not bad.”

Zhongshan Road was out of the way. In an increasingly clogged Xia City, it was usually one of the better routes.

The driver sounded excited, like he’d just watched a scene from a movie.

“Today’s the Liu family’s late patriarch’s third-year memorial. Zhongxin Road runs right by the Liu family cemetery. The whole road is packed with luxury cars. They even sent traffic police to manage it.”

He described the spectacle, rows of expensive vehicles lining the road, several leading cars clearing the way, black paint gleaming under the lingering rain season like something solemn and holy.

And in the center, heavily escorted, was the car carrying the head of the Liu family.

It moved without sound, without haste, with a weight that made the whole street feel like it was holding its breath.

Big families like that had bottomless wealth. Born without ever worrying about survival. This lifetime brought fewer troubles than ordinary people faced in a week.

Envy was inevitable.

At lunch on set, Gao Mei had shown Mu Wan a trending post. The Liu family memorial had caused traffic restrictions. It supposedly ended around three, but apparently, the road still hadn’t fully cleared.

A true old-money clan was like a deep abyss, roots spreading farther than any ordinary family could imagine.

Mu Wan exhaled once.

“Fine. Take Qiyun Road.”

She pulled out her phone and called Liu Qianxiu.

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