When Zhou Yining was sixteen, she had a cat. A sleek black ball of fur named Maoqiu, with glossy fur and striking eyes. Every day after school, the first thing she did was run home to see her.

Not long after, Zhou Jiahui got a cat too. A white one.

Those two cats were just like the girls who raised them—mutually hostile, always at each other’s throats. They say pets reflect their owners, and in this case, it couldn’t be truer. Zhou Yining wasn’t one to start trouble, but she’d never back down from a fight either. If someone crossed her, she’d fight back without hesitation.

Naturally, Maoqiu was the same. In every scrap between black and white, it was the black cat who walked away victorious.

Still, constant brawling wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, Zhou Yining kept her cat confined to her room. It was large enough, and Maoqiu never seemed bored. She’d let her out after school for a little walk around.

But in the end, none of it mattered.

The semester’s final exams had just wrapped up. Zhou Yining returned home in high spirits, only to find Maoqiu… gone.

No one told her where the cat had gone. Not even after she confronted Zhou Jiahui. No matter how hard she pushed, Zhou Jiahui kept her lips sealed. That day, Zhou Yining slapped her across the face.

It was snowing that night.

She ran out into the cold, alone, to search for her cat.

She searched all night. The next day, she kept looking. The third day, she was still out combing the streets…

No one expected her to be that stubborn. Even Zhou Lihui couldn’t take it anymore. He bought her another cat that looked vaguely similar.

She took one glance and said coldly, “That’s not my cat.” Then she turned and left, resuming her search.

She only wanted Maoqiu.

Finally, Zhou Lihui lost his temper. He barked at Zhou Jiahui, demanding to know where the cat had gone.

Zhou Jiahui hadn’t expected him to turn on her. Tearfully, she blurted out, “It’s freezing outside! Her cat probably froze to death already!”

Zhou Yining stared at her, stunned.

Every ember of fury inside her roared to life.

She slapped her. Hard. Then shoved her aside and ran upstairs, locking herself in her room for an entire day and night.

The emergency room doctor asked, “Ever been scratched or bitten by a cat before? Received any vaccinations?”

Zhou Yining snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head. “No.”

Maoqiu had never once scratched her. Let alone bitten her.

That girl last night had even shown her the cat’s health certificate, completely up to date. Zhou Yining had thought about skipping the rabies shot. But then she remembered what Ji Dongyang said:

“Rabies has a 100% fatality rate once symptoms appear.”

A chill crept up her spine.

Her skin was sensitive, too. The doctor advised her to go ahead with the vaccine, and she agreed. She still valued her life, after all.

It was a five-shot course. After cleaning her wound and administering the first dose, the doctor gave her a list of aftercare instructions. Only then did Zhou Yining pull on her mask and step back into the hallway.

The hospital was beginning to fill up. Early risers were already lining up for specialist appointments.

The mask was from A-Ming. It had originally belonged to Ji Dongyang—brand new, of course. He always kept his car stocked with supplies like that.

“You’re a celebrity now,” A-Ming had reminded her. “And you’re still riding in Dong-ge’s car. Better stay low-key, alright?”

Outside, the sky remained dim. It was a smoggy day—the kind that turned the whole world gray.

Zhou Yining slipped back into the car like a thief. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of Ji Dongyang. He was leaning back against the seat, black sleep mask covering his eyes, high-bridged nose, and tight lips exposed. His chin tilted slightly upward, like he was fast asleep.

A-Ming looked back at her and whispered, “All done?”

She nodded and shut the door. “Let’s go home.”

She didn’t feel like sleeping anymore. A shower, then maybe some rest.

They passed a breakfast shop along the way. Zhou Yining perked up.

“Wait. I want shrimp dumplings and veggie congee.”

A-Ming glanced around for a parking spot. “I’ll get it. You stay in the car.”

Zhou Yining plopped back in her seat, muttering, “You act like we’re on a stakeout.”

A-Ming chuckled. “You don’t get it. Dong-ge doesn’t do scandals, but plenty of actresses would love to fake one with him. Not saying you would—just, y’know. Others.”

She rolled her eyes. “Got it. Go get the food.”

He came back with an armful—xiao long bao, congee, and shrimp dumplings.

Ten minutes from home. She stole another glance at Ji Dongyang. He hadn’t moved an inch.

Zhou Yining leaned against the front seat and asked, “So Ji Dongyang doesn’t get into scandals. But has he ever dated anyone?”

A-Ming glanced at her, then at Ji Dongyang in the mirror. He swallowed.

“I can’t say.”

“Why not? Just one little detail.”

“Still can’t say.”

So he had dated someone. No way a guy that emotionally constipated hadn’t.

She twirled a strand of hair, then suddenly smirked. “Let me guess—his ex dumped him for being too cold, right?”

A-Ming: “…”

…That was true.

Zhou Yining burst out laughing. But then her laughter faded, and she glanced again at the man beside her.

The car pulled into the underground parking lot. A-Ming looked back nervously. After a full night of filming, Dong-ge was not a morning person.

How the hell was he supposed to wake him up without getting killed?

Zhou Yining shrugged and stepped out of the car.

Bang!

She slammed the door.

A-Ming winced. The whole car shook. That was not a move he’d dare pull.

Sure enough, Ji Dongyang pulled down his sleep mask. His brows drew together, eyes half-lidded, and he turned to glare at the girl outside who was grinning like a mischief-making fox.

Zhou Yining felt victorious. She opened the passenger door, snatched her congee and dumplings, and dashed away.

Ji Dongyang got out, face dark as thunder. A-Ming followed, waving his hands in protest.

“That wasn’t me, Dong-ge! Don’t kill me!”

“Shut up,” Ji Dongyang said coolly.

A-Ming zipped his lips and trailed behind with the breakfast bags.

By the time they reached the apartment, Zhou Yining was already in the bathroom brushing her teeth.

A few minutes later, she emerged, flopped onto the living room carpet, and started eating. After that, she took a hot bath and crawled into bed.

The entire crew had stayed up filming last night. Director Xu gave everyone a day off. She planned to sleep until the sun went down.

Her phone rang that evening, yanking her out of dreamland.

It was Jing Xin.

“You’re still asleep?”

Zhou Yining mumbled, “Mm…”

“I guess you earned it. Though, didn’t your scenes end around midnight?”

Jing Xin asked, “How’s your hand?”

“Relax. I got the shot. I’m not dying.”

“Seriously—what kind of thing is that to say? I’m treating you to dinner tonight!”

“Nope,” Zhou Yining said instantly. “All I want is food and more sleep.”

“…Fine.”

She shoved the phone under her pillow and rolled over.

After that major scene wrapped, her schedule lightened up. The days passed quietly. By late October, the weather had turned bitterly cold.

She hadn’t had scenes with Ji Dongyang in a few days. He was on a streak of night shoots. Most evenings when she got back, he was just leaving.

Her foot had healed. She drove herself around now. No more bandages, no more ointment.

Life suddenly felt… a little dull.

That afternoon, Wan Wei made a rare visit to the set.

They usually only communicated by phone. Zhou Yining didn’t have an assistant, no endorsements, nothing but filming. She’d barely even touched her Weibo.

She hardly seemed like a celebrity at all.

Wan Wei glanced at her. “Was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

Zhou Yining was still in costume. She smiled faintly. “Monitoring my performance?”

Wan Wei smiled back. “Didn’t you have a crying scene today? I heard last time you couldn’t cry, and someone had to pinch you. Almost caused a scandal. I wanted to see it for myself.”

Only a handful of people knew about that—Ji Dongyang, A-Ming… and herself.

Wait. A-Ming! That blabbermouth!

But how did he know Wan Wei so well?

As if reading her thoughts, Wan Wei said coolly, “A-Ming’s my cousin.”

Zhou Yining: “…”

So he’d been reporting on her this whole time?

She was going to kill him.

She forced a smile. “Crying scenes aren’t scheduled yet. A few more days.”

Wan Wei frowned. “Anyway, I booked you a shoot. Magazine spread. You’re not the lead—Lu Ling is.”

Lu Ling was another artist under Wan Wei. Much more famous.

Zhou Yining didn’t care much about photoshoots, but if Wan Wei arranged it, she’d go.

“Fine. When?”

“I’ll check with Director Xu.”

The shoot was scheduled for four days later, two days total. Right after that, her crying scene.

Wan Wei didn’t stay long. As she was leaving, Zhou Yining spotted Ji Dongyang and A-Ming walking past. She followed them to his dressing room.

Ji Dongyang paused at the door, looked back. “Need something?”

Zhou Yining didn’t answer. She turned to A-Ming instead, voice sweet as honey.

“A-Ming~”

Ji Dongyang raised an eyebrow. That syrupy tone? Nothing good ever came of it.

He went inside.

Outside, A-Ming froze.

She cracked her knuckles. “Didn’t you say you wanted to learn some self-defense last time?”

A-Ming had just seen Wan Wei. He put two and two together. A chill ran down his spine.

He pointed behind her. “Director Xu’s coming!”

As soon as she turned, he darted into the dressing room.

She looked back. Director Xu had his back to her, taking a cigarette from the assistant director.

She let out a cold snort and stalked in.

A-Ming dove behind Ji Dongyang. “Dong-ge, save me!”

Ji Dongyang was making coffee, one hand braced on the table, long legs casually crossed. He glanced up, expression lazy.

“If you cripple him, you want to be my assistant?”

Zhou Yining glared. “In your dreams.”

“Then don’t waste your strength.”

A-Ming seized the opportunity. “Right, right! I may have messed up, but I’ve always looked out for you! Wan-wei’s your agent, she should know what’s going on!”

She thought about it. He had looked after her. And she wasn’t seriously planning to beat him—just scare him a bit.

She clapped the dust off her hands and flopped into a chair.

“I want coffee too.”

Most of the male actors in the crew smoked. But Ji Dongyang didn’t. He just drank coffee.

He sipped from his cup. “Make it yourself.”

She stared at him.

A-Ming rushed over. “I’ll do it!”

A few minutes later, she had her cup. She glanced at the black sleep mask on the table.

“What brand is that? It’s comfy. I’ve been trying to find one like it.”

She’d gone shopping after her second rabies shot. No luck.

Ji Dongyang glanced at it. “Custom-made.”

No wonder.

He set down his cup. Time to change and get into makeup.

At the door, he looked back. “Ask A-Ming.”

She turned to him. “Where can I get one?”

“Depends. Dong-ge’s picky about his sleep masks. He had them sized.”

“I’m not that picky,” she said, picking it up and measuring the strap. “Looks like I just need one size smaller.”

A-Ming nodded, pulled out his phone, and made a call.

After a few words, he hung up.

“All set. You can pick it up in a few days.”