The big star has gone mad.

Completely mad ever since meeting that little obscure author at the Japanese restaurant that day. Usually a gentle person who would only give a slight smile to anyone, now she keeps bursting into uncontrollable laughter every now and then, as if something wonderful has happened. She's like this in front of Meng Shizhen and Song Yuan, and the same with others.

Even the makeup artist said: "Something good must be happening to Teacher Fang."

Meng Shizhen would rather it be something good happening to her, rather than having absolutely nothing going on yet laughing at the sight of an egg—laughing hard, and nonstop at that.

If this isn't madness, what is? She's possessed!

Meng Shizhen is forty-five this year and has managed countless artists. Having witnessed numerous illusory scenes in the industry, with her extensive experience, this is the first time she's seen an artist laugh hysterically at the sight of a bald head.

Yes, that damned bald head.

Fortunately, Fang Jiang has professional integrity. When working, she immerses herself fully and hasn't suddenly burst into laughter while shooting ads or filming. Otherwise, Meng Shizhen would first ki.ll Song Yuan, then that Little Obscure Author.

That Little Obscure Author even had the nerve to criticize Fang Jiang's poor acting skills. Just the fact that she can hold back laughter at the sight of a peeled egg during work shows how superb Fang Jiang's acting skills are. In front of the camera, she doesn't show even a hint of a smile, but the moment she steps away, she's laughing so hard she can't stand straight, completely losing the charm of an intellectual beauty.

Meng Shizhen angrily threw the egg into the trash. What's so funny? What's so funny!

The assistant Song Yuan is even more foolish, actually laughing along and asking, "Did Teacher Fang think of Shang Que?" If she hadn't asked, it wouldn't have been so bad. The question made the elegant Teacher Fang laugh so hard she slapped her thigh.

Only then did Song Yuan realize something was wrong and quietly said to Meng Shizhen, "Manager Meng, Manager Meng, Teacher Fang has been acting a bit strange lately."

Meng Shizhen gave a hollow smile. Only realizing it now? Too late.

"Teacher Fang has been laughing a lot recently. She laughs at the sight of anything smooth and round, and she's been eating Maltesers. Not only does she eat them herself, but when reporters or staff ask if something good is happening, she offers them Maltesers. Online, people are saying Teacher Fang is in love."

After the New Year, there were all sorts of negotiations—magazines, ads, events, new films, new budgets. Meng Shizhen manages more than just Fang Jiang. She's been running nonstop, while Fang Jiang, on the other hand, keeps causing trouble. One moment she's depressed and anxious, feeling life is meaningless; the next, she's giggling all day.

Meng Shizhen feels she's the one who needs to see a psychologist to vent her frustrations. This is hell. Utter hell.

But then it occurred to her: Could Fang Jiang actually be in love? If she really finds bald heads funny, she's been laughing for far too long. "I've been away these past two weeks. Has she been acting unusual? Who has she met?"

Song Yuan was a bit hesitant. As a lowly assistant, she's only with Fang Jiang during work hours. When Fang Jiang isn't working, she prefers to be alone and only calls if something comes up. "Teacher Fang attended three shoots and watched one show. The rest of the time, she was either at the studio or at home. After I drop her off, I don't know what she does. It's pretty much the same as before—no meetings with anyone special. As for anything unusual..." There is one small thing, but she isn't sure if it counts.

"Say whatever comes to mind." No clue, no matter how small, should be overlooked. Actually, Meng Shizhen doesn't believe Fang Jiang would hide a relationship from her, unless she doesn't even realize she's in love. Meng Shizhen has been in love a few times before—people in love never let their phones out of their sight and treat trivial matters as earth-shattering news. But Fang Jiang isn't like that; there's none of that joyful anticipation about her.

Song Yuan flipped through her notebook. "Last Monday, Teacher Fang asked me to courier a basket of free-range eggs. Last Wednesday, Teacher Fang ate some delicious oranges and had me courier a box of them. Last Thursday, Teacher Fang bought a case of Maltesers and told me to courier six avocados. Last Sunday, Teacher Fang asked me to courier a box of kiwifruit, then said never mind and bought a box herself..." Reading this far, Song Yuan felt a pang of alarm and quickly glanced at Meng Shizhen's expression.

Meng Shizhen kept her eyes closed. "Why did she buy kiwifruit?"

"Teacher Fang shipped that box of kiwifruit anyway. She even drew faces on them."

"What do you mean, drew faces?"

Song Yuan gestured—a circle, two eyes, a dot for a nose, and a line for a mouth.

"Who did she send them to? Her parents?"

Song Yuan hesitated. "No, to Shang Que."

Meng Shizhen opened her eyes. "Who is Shang Que?"

"Da-da (Big big; great)," Song Yuan whispered. "It's Da-da."

"Da-da? What Da-da? Grandpa (Da-da)?" Da.mn, Meng Shizhen finally realized—Song Yuan's "Da-da" was that damned bald-headed author. That bald woman, that bald woman—her destructive power was almost on par with Wu Meiniang from the Ganye Temple.

"You're saying Fang Jiang is in contact with that lousy writer?"

Song Yuan shook her head vigorously, defending her beloved Da-da. "Da-da never asked for anything. The first time, I had to pester her relentlessly to get the address."

"You again."

Who knew there would be so many follow-ups? "When Teacher Fang decides to do something, can I stop her?"

"You could have told me from the beginning."

"Manager Meng, could you have stopped her?"

"At least I would have known what she was up to!"

Song Yuan felt obligated to defend Fang Jiang. "Some people go shopping and splurge, or jump from one relationship to another. Teacher Fang doesn't have many hobbies—at most, she just finds Shang Que's bald head amusing." Thinking of the bald head, she almost laughed. What was Shang Que thinking? A perfectly fine young woman insists on shaving her head.

Meng Shizhen glared at her. "What are you laughing at? Is it that funny? Amusing? Is she Professor X? Amusing! She's insane." As she spoke, the shocking scene from that day at the Japanese restaurant resurfaced in her mind. Truth be told, there were plenty of eccentric bald women in the entertainment industry, but most of them paired their bald heads with tattooed sleeves. Few were like that writer—big, blinking eyes, an innocent, guileless literary baldhead, reminiscent of Fan Xiaoxuan back in the day.

Song Yuan muttered, "Shang Que said several times not to send anything."

"Oh, so you listen to your boss instead of your Da-da? What a fake fan."

"Da-da is easier to talk to." Whoever pays the salary gets the obedience. Take the paycheck, then send money to Da-da—that's just being practical.

"Easier to talk to? She acts coy after benefiting. Does she even eat all that stuff?!" Insiders stick together—everything is someone else's fault. Accepting is wrong, refusing is wrong. "Where's Fang Jiang? I'll go talk to her. What the hell is she up to?"

Zhou Zhi, who had received the gifts, also regretted it. There should never be a first time—she had only agreed initially out of respect for Song Yuan. What had Song Yuan said? That Fang Jiang wanted to thank her. But was this gratitude? A basket of eggs covered with drawn faces—was that thanks? All she saw was sarcasm, mockery, and a touch of madness.

So what if she laughed at her for being bald. So what if she refused to tell her why she was bald. The big star just had to find all sorts of ways to mock her—must be bored. Aren't celebrities supposed to be busy these days, flying around for events, endorsements, filming multiple projects, making money, stirring up drama? Who knew they'd have so much time to spare.

That day, having her hat snatched off felt no different from being stripped naked and forced to run down the street. Zhou Zhi stormed home in a huff. As soon as she got home, she hugged Gang Kai, who had eagerly come to greet her, and poured out her grievances.

"Ran into some ridiculous woman. Bad temper aside, she even got handsy—pulled my hat off for no reason. Does she think she's some 35-yuan pack of octopus? I should've brought you along. Next time we see her, bite her, bite her hard."

"So infuriating!"

Angry as she was, none of the consequences she had imagined from being seen bald actually happened.

She had been bald for two and a half years. At first, she hadn't covered up well enough, and passersby would point and stare. Even the fruit vendor in her neighborhood had something to say.

—Giving up on life? Planning to become a nun?

—Why make yourself look so weird?

Shaving her head had somehow turned her into a monster in their eyes.

But Fang Jiang hadn't reacted that way. Neither had Meng Shizhen or Song Yuan. After the initial surprise and a brief burst of laughter, Fang Jiang quickly composed herself and asked, "Are you... are you perhaps..."

The sudden solemnity made Zhou Zhi immediately understand what she meant—whether she had some illness requiring chemotherapy, like a tumor, cancer, or something else.

She quickly denied it. "No, I'm perfectly healthy."

With that, she grabbed her hat, pulled it over her head, and fled in a panic.

Catching her breath downstairs, she asked herself: Why run?

By bedtime that night, Zhou Zhi felt the matter was over. She and the big star wouldn't cross paths again. The events of the day felt like a bizarre, unreal dream. Maybe someday it would become a funny story to share—though she wondered if people would think she was lying. After all, who would believe a big star could be so... indescribable?

At 11 p.m., she received a WeChat message from someone named "Jiang Jiang," whose profile picture was a lumpy, yellowish lump.

Jiang Jiang: Why did you shave your head?

Only then did Zhou Zhi realize that during their heated argument earlier, she and Fang Jiang had exchanged WeChat contacts.

"What's it like to add a big star on WeChat?" she asked herself.

"Thanks for asking. Feels vain, and I'm itching to scroll all the way to the very first post on her Moments," she answered herself.

After a moment, she added, "The big star's profile picture is... something else. Looks like a piece of ginger with horns."

Resisting the urge to save the ginger profile picture and reverse-image-search its origin, Zhou Zhi focused on the chat box.

Why did you shave your head?

It's a long story, and she had no intention of satisfying the big star's curiosity.

Zhou Zhi typed: None of your business.

Too rude—deleted.

Then typed: No reason, just felt like it.

Too blunt—deleted.

Tried again: It's a story that would take three days and three nights to tell. Do you have three days and three nights? No? Then I'll tell you when you do.

Too slick—deleted.

Above the chat box, the status "The other party is typing..." appeared and remained for a full ten minutes.

Zhou Zhi wanted to laugh.

Jiang Jiang: The PPT was very thoughtfully made. I'll watch it a few more times carefully. Thank you.

Zhou Zhi's face flushed. That hadn't been her intention.

The image of the big star's eyes glistening with tears earlier that day flashed through her mind—proud, stubborn, and unwilling to concede.

Come to think of it, the superstar isn't that bad after all—definitely better than all those other pretty faces. At least her face is real, with so many subtle expressions, and not stiff in the slightest, right?

Just as I was about to apologize to the big star, they sent over an animated GIF.

A row of eggs sitting together. One egg says: "Look, the fifth egg has fuzz!"

The egg next to it exclaims: "So scary!"

Eggs below chime in: "See, it's the fifth one."

Egg: "So scary."

The fuzzy egg retorts: "Piss off, I'm a kiwifruit."

Her embarrassed smile froze on her lips. Zhou Zhi cursed under her breath and replied: Heh.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆Charvinovel ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆