Incurable Chapter 33 Part 2

Chapter 33 (2/2)

By the time the dinner was halfway through, Mu Wan found the whole thing deeply boring.

Since Mu Qing had come in as the female lead of this production, that role Mu Wan had hoped for was essentially gone.

She did not stay any longer.

While everyone was caught up in conversation, she slipped out to the restroom.

She had drunk four or five glasses of wine, but all of it had been red wine. She could still handle it. Mu Wan splashed some water on her face to clear her head, then, out of habit, stopped just outside the restroom to sober up a little.

Every private room in the club had its own attached restroom, so very few people came out into the corridor. The lighting along the hallway was dim and dreamlike. No one was there. It all carried a strange, faint loneliness.

Mu Wan tilted her head back and stared at the lights for a while, her vision darkening slightly. Lowering her head, she took out her phone and lit the screen.

Tang Qin’s Weibo page was still open.

Just moments ago, Tang Qin had posted a new status. In broad terms, it was a message to continue working hard and keep going. But beneath the words there was something else—a faint grievance, if one read carefully.

The top hot comment was from Tang Qin’s fan club, offering comfort and saying she would surely land an even better project in the future. Beneath that, people were already speculating that she had had a lead role snatched away from her.

Tang Qin was one of the hottest rising young actresses of the year, fresh off a major breakout idol drama. She was riding high and full of momentum. Of course, she would be furious at losing the role.

But furious was all she could be.

When investors decided to replace an actor, there was nothing the actor could do but comfort herself with words of encouragement to work harder next time.

If even a leading actress could be treated that way, what chance did a minor supporting actress like Mu Wan have?

It all felt profoundly pointless.

Judging from Tang Qin’s post, she had probably only just been replaced tonight. Otherwise, she would not have waited until now to post about it. If Mu Wan had known earlier, she thought, she would never have bothered coming back. She would rather have stayed in the temple, keeping Liu Qianxiu company in quiet cultivation.

The thought of Liu Qianxiu spread through her chest, warm and aching.

Mu Wan opened her contacts, found “Taoist Liu,” and called.

The line connected quickly.

Hearing the silence on the other end, Mu Wan could almost picture it: moonlight, a lone lamp, Taoist robes spread neatly, a man seated straight-backed on the floor, removed from the world. When his voice finally reached her, the image rippled like a reflection touched by water—broken, yet somehow clearer.

The corners of Mu Wan’s eyes curved.

“Finished?” Liu Qianxiu asked.

“Mm. The dinner’s not over yet, but my role is,” Mu Wan said. Looking down at her own feet, she lightly kicked at empty air.

“I really shouldn’t have come back,” she murmured.

Her voice softened with the words, making the loss beneath them plain.

Liu Qianxiu sat cross-legged on his prayer cushion and set aside the book in his hand. Looking out across the courtyard of the temple, he saw a pale crescent moon hanging above it all. His voice came low and even.

“What kind of drama is it?”

“A palace intrigue one,” Mu Wan answered, following where he led the conversation.

“Was there a role you wanted?” he asked.

“Yes.” Mu Wan nodded, drawing her leg back in. “It was an adaptation of a novel Gao Mei recommended to me. I’d read the novel already. The empress in it is a supporting role, but she’s written really well.”

After she said that, she lifted her gaze toward the far end of the corridor. Alcohol loosened the helplessness and frustration in her chest. Even rising actresses like Tang Qin could be replaced at the last moment. A small supporting actress like herself had even less room to fight.

“I should go home now.” She straightened from where she had been leaning. Longing spread through her in a soft ache.

“Liu Qianxiu, come back soon. I miss you.”

The moon hung solitary above the empty courtyard.

The quiet in his heart began to stir.

Liu Qianxiu answered in a low voice, “All right.”

On the other end, laughter bloomed bright in the woman’s voice. She said a few more inconsequential things, then ended the call.

Even after her voice was gone from the receiver, Liu Qianxiu did not put his phone away.

He remained seated on the cushion. The temple was cold and still. The night was like water.

Then Liu Qianxiu dialed another number.

“There’s a production,” he said. “Make the investment arrangements.”

There was a startled sound from the other side. It was quickly suppressed.

“Understood. I’ll prepare it immediately.”

After that, the other party hesitated, then asked carefully, “Should we reserve a role?”

“Mm,” Liu Qianxiu replied lightly. He picked up his book again and said, “A supporting role.”

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