ToW | Chapter 4

Jiang Qingzhou opened the door. The light in the foyer was very dim, too dim to illuminate these ten lost years. Too long.

—

Ten years ago, Jiang Qingzhou got up from Ai Xiaoshan’s bed. She belonged to water, that boundless, formless stretch of water tugged and pulled for twenty-seven years, and on that morning it gathered into a human shape and settled here with Ai Xiaoshan.

That illusion of everything finally coming to rest made Jiang Qingzhou stand there like a Buddha on the balcony, staring out at the sea, its waves unnaturally still. From behind her, Ai Xiaoshan called out twice, “Honey? Baby?”

She came awake as if from a dream and turned back with a smile at Ai Xiaoshan.

If time could have frozen on that morning, on that smile, if a cataclysmic disaster had struck, reducing this city to flat ground… no, even if humanity had gone extinct and then begun again, that would not have been an incomplete ending.

But there was no such thing.

—

The instant Jiang Qingzhou opened the door, she thought, Why didn’t I give myself a chance to put on some makeup and dress up properly? A thirty-seven-year-old old maid can’t rely on being naturally pretty anymore.

“Jiang Qingzhou, you’re really too much.” Just like ten years ago, Ai Xiaoshan lifted her brows ever so slightly, parted her white teeth, and finished delivering a mild reprimand.

“What did I do?” Jiang Qingzhou hadn’t expected their first exchange in ten years to be like this.

“If Su Qi hadn’t looked for me, if I hadn’t taken the initiative to message you, would you have never looked for me again in your whole life?”

So Su Qi had secretly gone to see Ai Xiaoshan. Jiang Qingzhou frowned slightly, then relaxed. Not looking for each other was mutual, she knew that, and Ai Xiaoshan knew it too.

“Su Qi gave you the room number?”

“Yeah.” Ai Xiaoshan shrugged, but her eyes were desperately searching Jiang Qingzhou’s for something.

Jiang Qingzhou stepped aside to let Ai Xiaoshan in. The room was dim too, and the subtle marks time had carved into each of their faces could not be made out. “Do you want something to drink?”

Ai Xiaoshan waved a hand. “I want to ask you about that film.”

—

“Do you have any films lined up right now?” Ten years ago, Ai Xiaoshan had asked her the same thing.

Back then, Jiang Qingzhou had been in the United States for a year after graduating. She wanted to see what opportunities Hollywood might have first. Maybe she had never thought it wouldn’t work.

“Why don’t you just come to Africa with me?” Ai Xiaoshan asked again.

Jiang Qingzhou didn’t take it seriously. She couldn’t figure out why Ai Xiaoshan was so determined to go to Africa…

Just like everyone couldn’t figure out why she had given up a booming career and gone to America.

But she couldn’t persuade Ai Xiaoshan to stay, and she didn’t want to persuade her either. An adult making an important choice must have her reasons, she thought.

She watched Ai Xiaoshan begin to make urgent, thorough plans for business in Africa, watched her fly there again and again, conduct on-site inspections of mineral deposits, negotiate with a state-owned company that might become a partner, watched her even alarm Ai Shihui and make a military-style pledge in front of him: if she didn’t turn a big profit within two years, she’d obediently go back to the United States and take over the Ai family business…

“Want to go over there with me?” Ai Xiaoshan asked lazily, a postlude cigarette between her fingers and a trace of a smile on her lips.

If you said she was serious, then she was serious. If you said she was joking, that worked too.

Jiang Qingzhou wavered like that. All she heard was the seriousness. “I don’t know how to do business. If I go, I’ll probably just be useless.”

Ai Xiaoshan stubbed out the cigarette and turned to wrap her arms around Jiang Qingzhou’s waist, greedily breathing in her scent. “Who said I want you to do business? Can’t you just go be my woman?”

Jiang Qingzhou’s face started to burn. In the previous couple of years, when she was a celebrity in China, how many wealthy magnates had tried every trick in the book to get a meal with her, taking long detours to ask questions with a similar meaning…

But back then she only found it disgusting. At that moment, though, it was as if a soft, doughy hammer had struck her heart. She shifted her body slightly, afraid Ai Xiaoshan would hear her altered heartbeat.

Jiang Qingzhou started taking it seriously. The moment that stretch of water transformed into a solid human shape, she started taking it seriously…

But even then, she had not thought of giving up the Hollywood path she had planned earlier for the sake of this love.

Some people cry all day long about how important love is, yet will always place it after the things that keep them alive in this world, like Ai Xiaoshan.

Some people seem cold and heartless, yet can easily abandon everything for love, like Jiang Qingzhou.

Ai Xiaoshan understood that only by securing oneself first could one have the best chance at love. A person must first take good care of herself.

Or even without love, she could live a life that inspired envy, a day-to-day enjoyment… simply knowing she had inexhaustible wealth, people would praise her when she went out, people would care if she was unhappy, and if her bed got cold she could call someone to warm it at any time. Love had such a low return on investment, and if it went badly, she might lose everything.

Jiang Qingzhou seemed touching, but in truth she only lacked love, and lacked dependence too.

And the strongest dependence in this world was only oneself. On this point, Ai Xiaoshan was clearer than she was. Ai Xiaoshan would not allow herself to depend on anyone. Using them was fine, depending on them was not.

Jiang Qingzhou also began making plans. She needed to settle Su Qi, who had followed her all this time, terminate her contract with Katherine’s agency, sell this apartment she had bought in Los Angeles three years ago… and take the only money she had to go join Ai Xiaoshan.

Ai Xiaoshan held a flute of champagne, leaning against the terrace railing as she watched the sunset. “Darling, I’m afraid you’ll regret it.”

“What do you mean?” Jiang Qingzhou looked at her. The setting sun had tinted Ai Xiaoshan’s eyes gold, making them even more dazzling.

“If you give up so much, and someday the two of us split up…” Ai Xiaoshan’s face was shadowed by a layer of disappointment. “You’ll regret it, and I’ll be even more uneasy.”

Jiang Qingzhou’s expression darkened too. “Like everything else, love has no insurance. It’s only my choice.”

“Do you want me to give you some insurance?”

“Are you going to kneel and swear an oath?” Jiang Qingzhou laughed again.

Ai Xiaoshan shook her head. “Do you believe in things like vows?” After a pause, she added, “If that day ever comes and you need some kind of compensation, what would you want?”

“What?”

“I want you to name your price now, and let’s agree on it.”

Jiang Qingzhou’s expression shifted like the sky after a summer downpour, changing in an instant. After a long while, she said, “You mean money?”

“A condition, then. I think material things are the most concrete guarantee. Once we’ve agreed, both of us can feel at ease.”

Jiang Qingzhou turned to leave, and Ai Xiaoshan caught her. “Darling, we’re both almost thirty. Don’t refuse material things.”

Ai Xiaoshan didn’t understand that in that instant, a trace of the disgust Jiang Qingzhou once felt toward those wealthy magnates surfaced in her heart, but only for an instant before it was replaced by deep sadness.

“Shan, why did you choose me to stay with you?”

“Because I love you.”

That day the two parted on bad terms. Three nights later, Ai Xiaoshan staggered out of her car drunk and went to knock on Jiang Qingzhou’s door.

A thrilling, scorching romance. There was no knot that could not be untied by the most primitive kind of negotiation. If once wasn’t enough, then twice, three times…

“If you love me, why do you still have to talk about money?” Jiang Qingzhou pressed down Ai Xiaoshan’s hands and asked through gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t conflict… the two don’t conflict…” Ai Xiaoshan’s eyes were full of shimmering autumn water, with fire reflected in them. She closed them and murmured, “I just want peace of mind.”

Jiang Qingzhou’s anger deflated. “Shan, are you afraid of leaving me?”

“I’m afraid of both. I’m afraid I’ll leave you, and you’ll leave me. The ending is the same either way.”

Jiang Qingzhou’s throat bobbed. “Then invest in a film for me someday.”

“Hm?”

“If we split up, and you still want to compensate me for something, then invest in a film for me. Let me make a comeback.”

“All right. What’s the budget?”

Jiang Qingzhou felt a dull heaviness in her chest. “It just has to be a film, anything.”

—

Ai Xiaoshan looked at the bare-faced Jiang Qingzhou sitting upright on the sofa, and only felt her beauty had not diminished in the slightest.

“Look at you, just like ten years ago. The moment you hear these things, your face changes…” Her tone was mocking. “Has ten years not made you a little more realistic?”

“I’m pretty realistic.”

“You think so.”

“We haven’t seen each other in ten years. Did you come here to argue with me?”

“I came to help you.”

“What I wouldn’t accept ten years ago, you think I can accept today?”

“Ten years ago, what you insisted on was the purity of love. Today, what you need to accept is capital infusion from an investor.”

“Forty million dollars. I’m not talking terms.”

Ai Xiaoshan laughed softly. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Jiang Qingzhou raised a brow at her. “Then you came here to laugh at me?”

Ai Xiaoshan walked up to her and crouched down. “Then why did you come to Los Angeles? To sneak off on vacation alone?”

Jiang Qingzhou’s heart tightened violently. Looking at Ai Xiaoshan’s upturned face, the storm she had suppressed for ten years was about to burst forth. Her face grew hot, her lips parted slightly, she let out a breath, then held it back. “To see you.” Her voice was a little hoarse.

A layer of tenderness covered Ai Xiaoshan’s eyes. She lowered her head, took Jiang Qingzhou’s hand, and gently laid her face against it.

Jiang Qingzhou’s fingers stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed.

If one said that ten years ago she had ultimately rejected Ai Xiaoshan, that would not be quite accurate. She had been willing to go all the way. Ai Xiaoshan needed reassurance, so she would open her mouth and discuss terms to reassure her. But she discovered that Ai Xiaoshan could not be reassured.

This ball of fire that never missed its target only burned where she could control it, like career. Love, in the end, made her timid.

The twenty-six-year-old Ai Xiaoshan feared the sense of dependence that came from being bound to another person. She thought that by “negotiating the price” she had it under control, but even after it was negotiated, she still did not dare accept it.

So that sentence, “Come to Africa and stay with me,” was ultimately just a beautiful wish… If the other person had not been Jiang Qingzhou, but some girl with nothing at all, everything would have been easy. The more Jiang Qingzhou possessed, the more Ai Xiaoshan had to bear.

Now Ai Xiaoshan had come once again before Jiang Qingzhou, pressing that warm face against her palm. Jiang Qingzhou lifted her other hand, let it fall slowly onto that head of smooth, silky hair, and gently stroked it.

“Do I have gray hair now?” Ai Xiaoshan asked.

Jiang Qingzhou’s throat tightened. She shook her head. “No, it’s the same as the last time I saw you.”

Ai Xiaoshan kissed Jiang Qingzhou’s palm, then looked up, circled her neck with her arms, and kissed her.

The familiar scent in her memory, the familiar warmth, the familiar body.

Like they had lost each other for ten years, only to meet again and demand everything in a frenzy.

They ate breakfast on a tiny balcony bathed in Southern California sunlight. Ai Xiaoshan’s hair was still slightly damp, and she was wrapped in Jiang Qingzhou’s silk robe, revealing half of her chest.

“Darling, do you really want to play that role in that film?”

“Huh?” Jiang Qingzhou actually did not react at once to which film she meant. Thinking it over, she said, “Oh, if there’s a chance, I’ll act in it. If not, I’ll wait for the next chance.”

“I can invest.”

Jiang Qingzhou raised her eyes, about to say something, but Ai Xiaoshan stopped her. “Listen to me. I want you to make a film yourself… You won’t need to look at anyone else’s face, and you won’t need to act in anyone else’s script. Pick the story you most want to make, play the role you most want to play. How about that?”

Jiang Qingzhou’s expression froze for a second, and countless feelings and words intertwined in her heart… To make a film herself, direct it herself, star in it herself, that was probably an actor’s ultimate dream…

But this offer coincided with the “deal” from ten years ago. Back then, what she wanted was for Ai Xiaoshan to invest in a film for her…

“You don’t need to feel pressured. I’ll invest in a small-budget film, ten million dollars. What do you think? If you want to adapt your book, the story of Qingzhou Crossing, that would be pretty suitable too.”

Jiang Qingzhou’s brows twitched. The girl she had first met, holding that book out for her to sign, Ai Xiaoshan had remembered everything.

You don’t need to worry about box office. Make it however you want, shoot it in whichever country you want.”

“Why?” Jiang Qingzhou asked.

Ai Xiaoshan was stunned. “I want you to be happy.”

“Just that?”

“Mm. Take it as a lark…” Ai Xiaoshan stirred the coffee in front of her. “Actually, I can support you.”

Jiang Qingzhou lit a cigarette. That familiar discomfort was creeping up in some corner of her heart again. “Are you still going back to Africa?”

“I’ll slowly wind things down over there. In the future I’ll still have to come back to the United States. Africa is just a place to make money.”

Jiang Qingzhou took a drag. “Is it because I’ve spent these ten years drifting aimlessly with no achievements that you can bring up supporting me again without any pressure?” She curved her lips and said it like a joke.

Something flashed in Ai Xiaoshan’s eyes. “How could that be? You’re an excellent actress. I’ve always known that. And don’t say ‘support’ like that. It’s not the same as ‘keep’.”

Jiang Qingzhou laughed. “From the bit parts I played, how did you tell I was an excellent actress?”

“I was bored in Africa, so I binge-watched the TV dramas you did in mainland China before. I liked them quite a lot.”

“Still eating off my old stock…” Jiang Qingzhou flicked off the ash. “The acting from more than ten years ago…” She made a face. “Can’t watch it. Cringe.”

“Think about it.”

Jiang Qingzhou stayed in Los Angeles for a week, glued to Ai Xiaoshan. As for those matters, whether to accept Ai Xiaoshan’s offer, the investment, or her support, she neither agreed nor disagreed, as if she had forgotten all about them.

One evening a week later, Ai Xiaoshan went out to meet a business partner and came back to find Jiang Qingzhou’s luggage gone. On the pillow lay a handwritten letter:

Shan, I’m going back to San Francisco first. Don’t miss me. I was very happy this week. Thank you.

Qingzhou

Ai Xiaoshan sat on the blanket by the bed for a long while. She knew Jiang Qingzhou had left again.

Jiang Qingzhou looked at the yellow dust swirling up on the highway and thought, Ai Xiaoshan always gets the equation wrong. I’m even more of a failure now than I was ten years ago…

But the things she carried had only increased, for example, the dignity of a middle-aged woman. It wasn’t that she couldn’t retreat. But retreating in triumph and fleeing in defeat were never the same. This time, Ai Xiaoshan was probably even less able to feel at ease.

Ai Xiaoshan walked out onto the balcony, lit a cigarette, and stood in the place Jiang Qingzhou had stood that morning, looking at the pretty storefront signs and the pedestrians pushing strollers on the street below.

Maybe wait another ten years, she thought. After another ten years, who knows what the view will be like.

(The End)

Author’s Note:

The next part is a new story