7 Kisses

The longstanding grudge between Chi Xing and Yan Yan traces back to the very beginning of Chi Xing’s career.

Yan Yan was a senior actress, a former child star with big eyes and a small mouth—a picture of cuteness. Her adorable looks once masked her mediocre acting skills. But as she grew older and her appearance became more ordinary, people began to notice her acting was quite average: she had become so accustomed to playing the sweet, obedient girl that her speech and movements were stiff and unnatural, as if she were constantly performing.

Chi Xing made a splash with her debut in "Tiger Fang." During an interview, the director, slightly tipsy, let slip in his accented Mandarin that she outperformed Yan Yan—that she had talent and was truly exceptional.

Coincidentally, Yan Yan was the lead actress in "Tiger Fang."

Later, Fengchuan Entertainment signed Chi Xing, making the two of them colleagues under the same company, senior and junior.

At first, Chi Xing respectfully called Yan Yan “Sister Yan” whenever they met, but more often than not, Yan Yan would roll her eyes in response.

After this happened repeatedly, Lin Shuchuan gently advised Chi Xing to stop calling her that—after all, Chi Xing was only three months younger than Yan Yan, and the “sister” title made Yan Yan deeply uncomfortable.

Chi Xing complied, but Yan Yan’s hostility toward her didn’t diminish. Chi Xing considered herself the junior, always polite and well-behaved, never provoking trouble. Rumors circulated that Yan Yan had made Chi Xing carry her shoes and comb her hair in the makeup room, but Chi Xing would just smile and say, “Is that so? I didn’t even know,” never addressing it directly.

In truth, Chi Xing had wanted to throw those rare stiletto heels right in Yan Yan’s face but restrained herself, not wanting to cause trouble for Lin Shuchuan.

The two later co-starred in a martial arts film, with Yan Yan as the lead, but all the attention went to Chi Xing.

Audiences who remembered Chi Xing as the fierce third sister in "Tiger Fang" were stunned to see her on the big screen as a stunning courtesan. Her character played the role of a mere ornament in the first half but revealed her true self later, engaging in deadly battles with the male lead before ultimately dying at his hands.

Close-ups flashed back and forth, their eyes meeting with sparks flying. The handsome hero’s gaze upon her was a hundred times more intense than when he looked at the demure Yan Yan, and his delivery of lines carried genuine emotion.

Lines like, “If you die by my hand, you should hold no grudge,” and “I met you too late.”

Photos flooded the media, and forums debated fiercely, “Did they truly love each other?” Articles kept coming, all focusing on Chi Xing. The headline that left the deepest impression on her was: “A 6-point film that gave us the perfect heroine of the 21st century.”

Chi Xing approached Lin Shuchuan, asking if the media was exaggerating. She enjoyed reading praise, but these articles were so over the top they made her blush, and she frowned as she skimmed the content.

The portrayal of an unparalleled beauty bore no resemblance to her beyond the name.

Yet, audiences loved such stories. Pairing a chivalrous hero with a sweet lady was dull; they craved the hero being teased by a temptress, the cold-hearted courtesan softened by passion, and her death by the hero’s sword—full of resentment and sorrow, ending with a sigh: “I was born in the wrong era.”

The hero rescuing or courting the lady was just a contrived plot device. The real essence of love lay in the hero struggling against barriers to deny his feelings for the temptress.

Discussions grew heated. At that time, the still-thriving Tudou platform saw countless fan edits set to countless sorrowful ballads. The ending scene always showed the temptress impaled against a crumbling wall in the desert, tears in her eyes but smiling brightly, her tears never falling.

“I was born in the wrong era.”

Before the words faded, a montage showed the hero’s first sight of the woman riding through the streets of Yangzhou. Her gauze hat lifted by the spring breeze revealed a stunning face and a backward glance with a smile.

To be honest, the film was mediocre, but even Chi Xing couldn’t help but think after watching the edits: Damn, I’m beautiful.

Lin Shuchuan told her Fengchuan hadn’t spent money on marketing because Yan Yan was unhappy. It was Chi Xing’s and the character’s popularity that was overwhelming, and the media, needing content, naturally jumped on the bandwagon.

The uproar lasted months, and many unaware believed Chi Xing was the film’s true lead.

It was only after the dust settled that people learned these were tactics by Yan Yan’s rivals. The grudge between Yan Yan and Chi Xing deepened: one unwilling to accept defeat, the other deeply aggrieved.

After changing agents, Chi Xing was often warned by Chang Xiaoyan: “Don’t provoke Sister Yan. Her boyfriend is so-and-so; he could crush you with one finger.”

Though Chi Xing disliked losing out, her character had been tempered over the years. Without seniority, background, or connections in this industry, she knew she shouldn’t be high-profile. From then on, whenever Yan Yan showed hostility, Chi Xing would just smile it off.

Two months ago, Yan Yan appeared on a reality show, tearfully recounting her low point: “There was a junior catching up to me. I didn’t like competing, but if you don’t fight, you get overtaken,” “It was around 2011 or 2012, a tough time. That’s when I was diagnosed with depression, taking medication daily—I almost didn’t make it through,” “Enough said. It’s all in the past now.”

A beauty’s tears are a formidable weapon. Fans and viewers pieced it together and dug up old grievances: the junior was none other than Chi Xing.

Well then, this couldn’t be let slide—the invisible blows rained down on Chi Xing fiercely.

---

Whenever Chi Xing recalled having to comb Yan Yan’s hair, carry her shoes and clothes in the makeup room, she got angry. Despite Chang Xiaoyan’s warnings to watch her words, she couldn’t hold back.

Of course, Chi Xing didn’t think she was wrong.

A star like Yan Yan, who’d grown up on screen, was fully aware of her beauty—it was a weapon, her signature. In this era, no one liked those who weren’t beautiful. If you were plain, you had to forcefully flaunt your talent or virtue, those less tangible charms.

Before the “Brilliant and Sweet You” production meeting, about a dozen people showed up, but Zhou Mang could count those he recognized on one hand.

He noticed Chi Xing rarely chatted except with Yuan Qiu and Chang Xiaoyan. The rest seemed to have their own circles; no one was particularly close to her.

The meeting was a jumble of topics: the producer talking about his new vineyard in Europe, the director fretting over choosing a primary school for his son, Yan Yan’s agent—a tall man with a Beijing alley accent—veering off into a discussion of state banquet dishes.

Zhou Mang understood: this was a get-together, a casual meeting. Everyone quietly showing their weight so their own team could gauge the situation.

How much weight did Chi Xing carry?

He looked down slightly and saw Chi Xing yawning, her phone boldly placed on the table, still on “Phantom Night Sonata.” She had just pulled a glittering SSR card, showing a handsome man and the heroine gazing tenderly under an umbrella.

Chi Xing stretched lazily and noticed Zhou Mang’s gaze. She turned her head and squinted at him, as if sharing a secret smile.

Zhou Mang thought she shouldn’t be smiling at him—Yan Yan was watching opposite and might spin new rumors.

Yet, he didn’t dislike the smile.

By the time he got home, it was evening. After spending time with Zhou Mang and others, Chang Xiaoyan grew more at ease and arranged for an assistant to help Chi Xing with errands before returning to work.

Chi Xing had He Nian drive the assistant to the subway station and gifted her a Gucci box: “Happy birthday, enjoy it with your boyfriend.”

She ordered hot pot delivery. When the food arrived, it was He Nian and He Yue who ate first. He Yue sat with a salad bowl in front of the TV, watching a cooking show featuring Yuan Qiu.

Midway through the program, an unexpected guest appeared—Yan Yan.

Chi Xing stretched out her long legs, closed her eyes, and cursed: “Damn, I’m going to have nightmares tonight!”

She turned to complain to He Yue, her favorite gossip partner, but found both siblings absent.

“The property management said they needed to file paperwork for the new security cameras at the entrance, so they went in your place,” Zhou Mang explained.

Standing behind the sofa, he bent down to take Chi Xing’s empty salad bowl and carry it to the kitchen.

Chi Xing wasn’t full and felt a slight hunger; her senses sharpened. Her gaze followed Zhou Mang. When he came back out, she fixed her eyes on his.

Zhou Mang glanced at her once and headed for the balcony. Chi Xing followed closely, leaning against the glass door and asking, “Hey, tell me honestly, who’s prettier—me or Ju?”

She spoke in dialect, her tone crisp and direct, making it impossible for Zhou Mang to avoid answering.

Zhou Mang noticed she wasn’t smoking but had a small red peach-flavored candy in her mouth, casually awaiting his reply.

A lamp hung above the balcony; the flowerpots were bare, and a plush cat toy rested on a rocking chair. Chi Xing’s long hair was simply tied back, her face bare, dressed in loose loungewear that revealed two long legs—she looked nothing like a star. Time rewound; she resembled a girl from the past.

Zhou Mang stopped his own memories and remained silent.

Chi Xing didn’t let up: “Who’s prettier, me or her? Say it.”

The balcony was sealed on all sides—no one outside could see in, and Zhou Mang had nowhere to escape. Seeing Chi Xing lean in, he quickly conceded with an answer she liked: “You’re prettier.”

With a thud, Chi Xing slapped her hand on the window behind Zhou Mang, trapping him between her arms.

---

Zhou Mang: “…”

Chi Xing, half a head shorter, tilted her chin up to look at him: “I don’t believe you. Explain carefully—what makes me pretty?”

Zhou Mang: “Step aside first.”

Chi Xing didn’t budge, smiling: “So this is how it feels… no wonder girls like it. Does it feel oppressive? Is your heart racing?”

Zhou Mang was speechless and dared not push her away.

Chi Xing bit her lip, her long thick lashes casting shadows on her smooth face. “Zhou Mang, what makes me pretty?”

Zhou Mang: “…You’ve always been pretty.”

Even a sincere compliment sounded like a brush-off. Chi Xing wasn’t satisfied, nearly touching his nose with hers: “Always? Since when?”

Her eyes glistened with moisture, her usual fierce sparkle now mixed with childish curiosity and mischief: “From the moment we first met, you thought I was pretty? Then why wouldn’t you talk to me properly? Why did you glare at me?”

Zhou Mang’s back pressed against the glass, embarrassed as if punished.

Chi Xing thought for a moment, straightened up, and put some distance between them: “Come on, be honest. Did you start thinking about me when you helped me with the medicine?”

Zhou Mang: “…”

Chi Xing: “You’re so bad, Zhou Mang. Not only did you peek at a young girl without clothes, you secretly thought about her.”

Zhou Mang: “I didn’t.”

Chi Xing pressed on: “Liar. What’s in a man’s head? It’s all shady stuff…”

“I didn’t!” Zhou Mang snapped.

Chi Xing stared at him, searching his youthful face for any sign of faltering.

At thirty, Chi Xing was better at reading men’s words and actions for hidden meanings than her eighteen-year-old self. She awaited his answer.

She was also certain that no matter what he said, she wouldn’t be hurt anymore.

She had grown up, matured, become a strong adult.

Zhou Mang looked into her eyes: “You seemed… cold then. I just wanted… to hold you.”

Somewhere below, fireworks popped—children’s laughter and a scolding from the property management faintly audible. The fireworks didn’t rise high but left glowing shadows on the blue blackout glass, streaking across Chi Xing’s eyes.

She gazed quietly at Zhou Mang, her eyelids lowering, lips curling into a smile.

“You…”

Another firework soared into the cobalt night sky and burst, scattering golden sparks.

Chi Xing tilted her head slightly and leaned close.

Her kiss tasted of peach, sweet and fragrant, brushing his lips briefly before pulling away.

“…You’re so cute,” she whispered with a laugh, close to his ear.