Meng Shizhen drove into the residential compound where Fang Jiang lived. The security guard was a recent hire who asked numerous questions, only letting her pass when a familiar guard appeared. Were it not for Fang Jiang's need for tight security and the new guard's pleasant appearance, Meng Shizhen would have cursed aloud.

Located in the bustling city center adjacent to a park, the compound featured rare urban villas in Shanghai. Compared to suburban homes, each villa was considerably smaller. Fang Jiang's house stood deep within the compound, with one side facing neighboring villas and the other overlooking park greenery.

The door was opened by Auntie Sun Chunlian, who had hurried from the kitchen. Around fifty years old, Sun Chunlian had sought work after an investment failure six years prior. Fang Jiang kept her on as a live-in helper for being quiet, diligent, tidy, and not only an excellent cook but also skilled at creatively developing new dishes. During years when Fang Jiang was constantly traveling for engagements, Sun Chunlian essentially served as half a housekeeper. It wasn't until last year, when Fang Jiang deliberately reduced her workload, that Sun Chunlian's duties increased—recently becoming her busiest period since arriving.

Just as Meng Shizhen changed into slippers, soap bubbles drifted before her eyes.

Sun Chunlian pointed upward with an indescribable expression.

Following her gesture, Meng Shizhen saw Fang Jiang wearing a blue large robe, seated by the staircase with her legs dangling through the railing. Swinging her feet back and forth, she held an unknown container, blowing streams of soap bubbles into the air.

Blowing bubbles. Meng Shizhen hadn't done this since elementary school, considering it boring and dirty whenever she saw it in parks or streets.

Reaching the third floor, she found Fang Jiang still in the same position, her expression unreadable—neither clearly happy nor sad, perhaps merely wistful. Meng Shizhen sighed inwardly: Even her listlessness was captivating, she was born to be a star, though such listlessness wasn't suitable for public documentation.

"Sister Shizhen." Noting her silence, Fang Jiang offered a faint smile, as if a weary soul hid beneath her tired form.

"You're unhappy." A statement, not a question.

Fang Jiang laughed. "Looking at my bank balance, I dare not be unhappy—or people would call me pretentious. Sit for a while, dinner will be ready soon."

"How do you know I don't have plans?"

"If you did, your speech and footsteps would be faster."

Meng Shizhen was incredulous. "Really?"

"Next time I'll record you so you can compare."

"Cheeky." Meng Shizhen settled on the sofa behind her. "This sofa is nice—once you sink in, you don't want to move."

"Originally a dog bed, but I found it cozy and had it remade in human dimensions."

"No wonder they say a humble home is better than a golden palace—makes sense."

Neither mentioned the purpose of the visit. One lounged comfortably while the other blew bubbles, occasional cooking aromas wafting through, filling the space with domestic warmth.

"What made you think of blowing bubbles?"

"Read a short novel."

"The soap bubbles have landed on the curtains, we'll have to take them down for washing. Look at you, installing so many curtains—cleaning them is such a massive chore, it's downright dreadful." While others used entire glass walls for natural lighting, Fang Jiang was the opposite—every pane of glass had curtains, and pulling them shut during daytime plunged the room into pitch darkness. Meng Shizhen had seen it—utterly black, like a vampire's ancient castle.

"Better than being secretly photographed." Anyway, she didn't have to take them down or wash them. "Drones are so advanced now, even if they're banned in urban areas, plenty of people break the law knowingly. Better safe than sorry, saves trouble. I'm just lightening your workload."

Lightening her workload? You causing less trouble would lighten my workload. "Your mom said she only saw you once during the Spring Festival and you didn't stay at her place. She asked if you were very busy."

"She knows to ask you, why not ask me directly? What did you say?" Hearing "your mom said" made Fang Jiang annoyed.

"I told her you've been wanting to break through lately, wanting to do your own thing. Your mom immediately said to ask her for any resources you need—domestically there's her and your dad, internationally there's Mr. Wilson."

Setting the bubble-blowing bottle aside, Fang Jiang said, "That old man again."

"Old? He's not even eighty yet, thankfully he's still strong. Hope he lives many more years—with his help, your international career will be much smoother." Knowing Fang Jiang disliked her stepfather, Meng Shizhen still said, "You're still holding a grudge after all these years. Anyway, Mr. Wilson is your stepfather—he treats your mom well and he's been good to you too."

Fang Jiang's parents divorced during her college years, and her mother married Wilson, an American businessman ten years her senior.

"Wilson, Wilson—sounds like some plague carrier. Can't I just dislike his name?"

"Fine, fine." Every family has its troubles. Her parents' quick remarriages after the divorce were Fang Jiang's biggest unresolved issue. As long as she remained polite in public, Meng Shizhen didn't interfere. Bringing it up was only because Fang Jiang's mother, Jiang Wei, had asked—after all, Jiang Wei was Meng Shizhen's idol since her youth. Entering the entertainment industry had been a path of fandom for her, but she ended up straying far down this "wrong" path.

Meng Shizhen sighed and sat up, about to say something, when she noticed a printed PPT on the small round table beside the sofa—it looked familiar. Picking it up, damn, it was that Little Obscure Author's PPT. "You don't read Weibo comments, but you're so into this?"

"She makes some good points." Fang Jiang took the PPT and flipped to the only page with positive feedback. "Remember the movie where I won Best Supporting Actress?"

"Xiao Jia in Heartbeat—that was your third year after debut, playing a student who seemed to have a crush on the male lead but actually liked the female lead." Meng Shizhen recalled instantly. "Wait, what did that balding woman say?"

Fang Jiang giggled. "Sister Shizhen, she's bald, not balding."

"Whatever. What nonsense did that Little Obscure Author spout?"

"She said the role in that movie suited me well, so I performed brilliantly."

Is that a compliment?

"While filming that movie, I could genuinely relate from the heart."

"Was it the part about having a crush on the female lead?"

"Sister Shizhen, it was Xiao Jia who witnessed her parents arguing, then turned and left to find the female lead. I could sense her disappointment in her parents, her worry, her fear, her confusion, and that feeling of being saved when she saw the female lead. But that's not the main point. Lately, I've been thinking—is my difficulty getting into character because I've experienced too little? Look, those outstanding actors either have innate talent or rich life experiences. I've never suffered much since childhood, and rarely had unfulfilled desires. After entering this industry, thanks to your care and my parents' support, I haven't encountered many distressing situations. Compared to others, I'm already fortunate enough. But because of my lack of experience, I find it hard to empathize."

Meng Shizhen grew wary. "What are you planning? Becoming a UN goodwill ambassador, devoting yourself to public service, or seeking to enrich your life experiences? Actors who portray drug addicts don't necessarily have to take drugs. Would you need to ki.ll someone to play a murderer?"

"At the very least, others would visit rehabilitation centers to understand what drug addicts are like."

"Stop, stop, stop—erase those crazy ideas from your head right now." Meng Shizhen snatched the printed document from her hands, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash bin. "Jiang Jiang, the roles you're filming now don't require you to overthink like this. Look at what Yongmei, who won the Silver Bear Award, said. Everyone is racing against time—overthinking just creates trouble for others, understand? The market is brutal, especially for domestic actresses. Career cycles are short, and competition is fierce. What you should be thinking about now is the same as me: how to gain exposure, how to secure endorsements, and filming more TV dramas and movies regardless of when they air—building up your portfolio is what matters most. The production cycle for a TV series isn't short these days, and the industry changes daily. A gap in your schedule means no exposure. If you have no exposure while others do, it's a zero-sum game. Look at the army of newcomers catching up—even those born after 2005 are coming for your roles. Don't say your type is different from theirs. Look at Cheng Hanzhi—she has plenty of endorsements and runway events, but does she have acting jobs? Yin Zhang has won many awards, yet she's doing variety shows to make money. Listen to me, Jiang Jiang. Your acting may not be outstanding, but it's certainly not bad either. There's no need to waste time and energy thinking about other things. I know you have aspirations and ambitions—you want to improve yourself—but you can't stop. Time waits for no one. I'll do my best to secure better directors and more diverse opportunities for you. Promise me you'll focus on your current work and not dwell on dangerous ideas, okay?"

Fang Jiang remained silent.

Meng Shizhen pressed, "Okay?"

"Have I ever failed to take any of my work seriously?"

"My dear, I'm just giving you a warning. You've done well in every job, but haven't you considered dangerous things before?"

"What dangerous..." Fang Jiang started to deny it.

Meng Shizhen said sternly, "Fang Jiang, you stole something."

"Wasn't that just an attempt?"

"You know it was an attempt. What does 'attempt' mean? You did it, but didn't succeed. If there hadn't been others in the convenience store, you would have stolen something. Tell me, what's most important for a celebrity."

"Personal integrity," Fang Jiang replied reluctantly.

"Right, personal integrity. Nowadays everyone carries a high-powered magnifying glass with them, so you must be careful, careful, and even more careful. Stealing isn't just a matter of personal integrity—it's illegal. You, someone who won't even jaywalk, would go steal something?" At this point, Meng Shizhen's tone softened. "I know you've always been strict with yourself and under a lot of pressure. Others casually date or have superficial friendships, but you've always been alone. I'm worried about you, Jiang Jiang. Why not go see a therapist?"

"I won't go. You actually trust them?"

Seeing her so stubborn, Meng Shizhen got angry again. "If you don't trust professionals, are you going to trust some Little Obscure Author instead? I haven't even asked you yet. Why are you sending so many things to that person? She insults you, and you're grateful and thanking her for her concern?"

The moment Zhou Zhi was mentioned, Fang Jiang immediately smiled and placed her phone in front of Meng Shizhen. "I'm mocking her, Sister Shizhen. Let me show you a funny picture."

[A group of eggs and one kiwifruit.gif]

Fang Jiang had seen this GIF countless times but still laughed every time she saw it.

Meng Shizhen gave a forced smile.

Fang Jiang added, "Look at the fuzz on that kiwi..."

What's so interesting about that? It's toxic.

Considering Fang Jiang only lost her mind once every dozen years, Meng Shizhen said, "Just laugh about it privately and don't let it trend. Otherwise, people will really think you're in a relationship."

"In a relationship?" Fang Jiang waved her phone. "With a kiwifruit?"

"Hah, you wish. People would list all the male actors you've worked with and finally pick one depending on your luck." As if deliberately provoking Fang Jiang, Meng Shizhen continued, "Who have you worked with recently? Oh, Qin Chaoxi."

Qin Chaoxi, the heartthrob for middle-aged women, known for his suspense and spy dramas. In his spare time, he loved posting melodramatic little poems and writing melodramatic little essays. Whenever he met younger actors, he'd lecture them as a senior. He also enjoyed sharing his collection of melodramatic poems. After sharing them, he'd ask others a few days later how they were. It wasn't enough for others to say they were good—they had to specify what was good about them. Fang Jiang got a headache just seeing him.

"Just ki.ll me. Alright, I get it. I definitely won't look at kiwis in public."

Meng Shizhen shot her a sidelong glance.

"Fine, I won't look at eggs, oranges, or avocados either."

"Fang Jiang!"

"Just kidding, just kidding. It's not that funny anyway, at least not as funny as Zhou Zhi."

"Who's Zhou Zhi?"

Fang Jiang smiled.

"That bald-headed one again!"

After dinner, Meng Shizhen went home. Fang Jiang found a kiwifruit, shaved off a patch of skin in the middle to make it look like random bald spots, and posted it on her Private account's Weibo.

Ginger (Jiang) That Makes You Cry from Spiciness: She's bald, not balding, boohoo.

Her Private account had few followers. After her shower, with no responses, Fang Jiang found it boring. Suddenly inspired, she screenshotted the Weibo post, removed the ID, and forwarded it to Zhou Zhi.

The response came quickly.

Little Baldy: [600 Wanping South Road.jpg] This is home calling.

Author's Note: I hope everyone won't dislike the female lead just because she's temporarily bald and has no hair.

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