Chapter Sixty: Good News

Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, casting its warmth into the hotel room. It was not blinding, but gentle, suffusing the space with a pleasant heat.

Weng Meiling slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness that her eyes were not yet accustomed to. A pounding ache throbbed in her head, as though her temples might explode.

"Mmm..." She tried to make a sound, but her throat was as parched as a withered tree in the desert—dry and raw, with a sensation as if it had been torn apart.

She frowned slightly as her eyes gradually adjusted to the light, the world around her shifting from a blur to clarity.

It was a strange room. From the furnishings, it was easy to see this was a hotel. She lay in the hotel bed, a heavy quilt weighing her down.

At the same time, scattered fragments of memory flickered through her mind.

She seemed to remember drinking with a man, and in her drunkenness, she had confided much about herself. But soon, the familiar face in her memory transformed into a stranger’s, jolting her muddled thoughts awake.

Ignoring her hangover and the pain in her head, Weng Meiling sat up abruptly, threw off the quilt, and checked herself.

Her clothes were a bit wrinkled but otherwise intact, much as she remembered putting them on. Relief flooded through her—her fears, those fleeting images in her mind, must have been nothing more than dreams.

Finally, she allowed herself to relax. Her gaze drifted to the bedside table where something caught her eye.

There sat a glass of what appeared to be juice, a pink thermos, and a card propped neatly beside them.

Curious, Weng Meiling picked up the card and opened it.

The handwriting was not flamboyant, but carefully formed, each character meticulously drawn. It was not beautiful, but it showed a certain seriousness and care.

“In the glass is honey-lemon water, which can help your body process the remaining alcohol. If you’re awake, drink it first. In the thermos is lean pork and liver congee, to replenish the salts lost from your body and supply protein to repair the damage from the hangover—eat it to fill your stomach. Afterward, you’d do well to take a hot bath immediately. There’s a bottle of rosemary essential oil on the sink—add three drops to your bath to promote circulation and refresh yourself. PS: The thermos is new. After you finish the congee, just leave it in the room.”

The card was filled with advice for sobering up.

Who was this person?

After finishing the juice and the large bowl of pork liver congee, Weng Meiling lay soaking in the bathtub, every pore of her body utterly relaxed.

It had been a long time since she had felt so at ease, or so cared for. As the scent of rosemary drifted in the air, she tried to recall the events of the night before.

But her memory was hazy, the stranger’s face a blur. She could not remember who he was, or even his name or occupation.

She only remembered meeting him at a gathering within their circle—he must have been part of the same world. She could not imagine how she had been so bold, pouring out her heart to a stranger.

Thankfully, he was not someone she knew well—otherwise, meeting again would be unbearably awkward.

Yet, having confessed so much, she felt a great relief, as though the weight on her heart had vanished by half.

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“Achoo! Achoo!” On his way to Baizhan Film Company, Yan Xu sneezed several times for no apparent reason.

Was someone cursing him, or had he really caught a cold?

The thought flashed through Yan Xu’s mind.

Last night, he had taken a cold shower for half an hour to suppress his urges. Now that he thought about it, he must have been out of his mind—what a golden opportunity for romance, so easily given up! Regret filled his heart.

Ever since arriving in this era, he had almost become a saint. His friends had invited him many times to seek pleasure, but he had always refused; he hadn’t even visited the most famous nightclubs, hailed as a man’s paradise. If this continued, he thought, he might develop problems—after all, it's unhealthy for a man to suppress himself for too long.

Yet, looking back, the previous night had been a triumph. He had successfully entered the circles of Sam Hung and Alan Tam, broadening his network and truly stepping into the entertainment world.

Especially with the Police Story script, he had drawn closer to Jackie Chan, which boded well for his future. He had also managed to recommend Vivian Chow for a role in Police Story, which would help her acting career. As for Maggie Cheung, he could only offer a silent apology in his heart.

His new film was already taking shape in his mind, and he had secured cameos from Alan Tam and Chan Bak Cheung. Their participation alone would guarantee a solid box office performance.

And then there was meeting Weng Meiling—the memory of holding her in his arms sent a shiver through him. He didn’t want to see such a beautiful spirit fall again.

Baizhan Film Company was now nothing like it had been at the beginning. Though still located in Sham Shui Po, it was no longer a modest apartment. Thanks to several box office hits, the company had gained some recognition within the industry and had moved to a prime location on Qinzhou Street, renting a two-story storefront. The first floor housed the reception and meeting rooms, while offices filled the second. The large sign outside was a prominent feature on Qinzhou Street.

Yan Xu was now a star within the company. From the moment he entered, he was surrounded by people—some fawning, some attempting to curry favor, even a few female employees making suggestive overtures, hoping to become his next protégé. He barely managed to escape and slip into Guangtou Qiang’s office.

“Brother, what’s so urgent that you needed me?” Although Yan Xu had his own office there, he rarely used it and was seldom present. He had just returned home that morning when he heard Guangtou Qiang’s message on his answering machine and had hurried over.

“A Xu, I’ve got great news for you!” Guangtou Qiang looked at Yan Xu, his face alight with excitement.