And so, Ai Lian’s role was wrapped up.
Because the upcoming script no longer required her.
In Gu Yebai’s life, this name would gradually fade with time, until it disappeared completely.
At least, that’s how Bai Xialin saw it.
Gu Yebai mistakenly believed that Ai Lian, who called him, was still in distant Linchuan County, Dongling Province, struggling for her future on that barren and cramped land.
Little did he know that the “Ai Lian” who had just spoken with a timid, trailing tone, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible, had already completed a stunning transformation of identity.
The person on the phone was never that bullied girl.
It was Bai Xialin.
She was a star student at Ewha Girls’ High School in Seoul, possessing a beautiful appearance and vibrant, youthful aura comparable to a Korean drama heroine.
Bai Xialin was Ai Lian.
Or rather, neither Bai Xialin nor Ai Lian was who she truly was.
At this moment.
On the 28th floor of Tomson Riviera.
A 596-square-meter flat.
A leather sofa worth over 700,000 RMB sat in the center of the living room.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched the riverbank skyline, delineated by CBD towers.
Bai Xialin sat cross-legged on the sofa, her fair legs exposed, her posture serene.
Using the tone that had once belonged to Ai Lian—that voice tinged with timidity and self-deprecation—she completed this final farewell call.
Yet as she spoke, her gaze was not on her phone.
Instead, she was staring at a surveillance screen.
On the screen: Every move Gu Yebai made.
The pause of his fingertips.
Subtle changes in his brow.
All of it was captured by her eyes.
In truth, at that moment, Bai Xialin had tried to glimpse a hint of relief in the depths of Gu Yebai’s eyes.
Even just a fleeting moment.
That unconscious slackening that comes when a “trouble is finally over.”
But she found none.
Gu Yebai was genuinely concerned for Ai Lian’s future.
That kindness, utterly devoid of pretense, was so real it was almost dazzling.
On the screen, he was silent, hesitant, at a loss.
Bai Xialin watched quietly.
After a long while.
She murmured softly.
“Gu-kun…”
“Ai Lian hasn’t left, you know.”
“She’s just appeared before you in a more outstanding form.”
The corners of her lips slowly curved upward.
It wasn’t a cold sneer, nor a mocking smile.
It was an elegant, composed smile.
Like an announcement—a new script had officially begun.
Why was Ai Lian created in the first place?
The answer was just two words—boredom.
She was bored of Earthlings’ instinct to lower their own stance and put on fawning airs simply based on an individual’s appearance.
That clinginess, that twisted self-esteem, that instinctive behavior driven by the urge to reproduce—to her, it reeked of a primitive, inferior nature.
So, she picked up a dart.
And tossed it casually at an unfolded world map.
Huaxia, Dongling Province, Linchuan County.
An inconspicuous small town.
She began to pull data: population structure, economic level, educational environment, social mobility rates…
All the information layered across her screen.
The initial results were not surprising.
Ugly people get ostracized.
Those at the bottom get bullied.
Earthlings would openly reveal their most instinctive ugliness.
If not for the variable that was Gu Yebai.
Then a girl with poor grades, a homely appearance, and a target of relentless bullying could have become the sharpest sword ever thrust into Earth’s civilization.
She had anticipated exposure.
Had anticipated witnessing the prejudice beneath manners and order.
Had anticipated seeing the undisguised contempt fueled by class and appearance.
Yet, amidst the dust, she discovered a gem like Gu Yebai.
Thus, the subject changed.
The experimental phase concluded.
Rather than excavating Earth’s ugliness, rather than strangling this yet-immature civilization in its cradle, she glimpsed another possibility.
Perhaps the union of civilizations was possible.
Perhaps love was the ultimate answer in the universe.
“Gu-kun…”
“Maybe you’re the hero who saves Earth.”
But for now, Bai Xialin had yet to truly meet Gu Yebai.
A chance encounter by the elevator was not enough to build a bridge of love.
Bai Xialin’s appearance was undeniably captivating.
But Gao Hongyi was equally formidable.
Moreover, if she was to explore Earth’s values regarding love and romance, the act of offering one’s first time was almost an unavoidable topic.
On this matter, Bai Xialin had no intention of being beaten to it.
So…
“We’ll meet again very soon.”
“Gu-kun.”
“Perhaps next time, we can also share a gentle kiss on a Ferris wheel.”
“Maybe I can hold you, too.”
“I have a good tolerance for alcohol; I’ll get you drunk, make you cry, and tell me about your past. Even though I already know it, I’ll still listen patiently, and then let your head rest in my arms.”
“I’ll peel away the textiles you use to adorn and protect yourself from the cold, like peeling fruit, and have you appear before me in your most primal state.”
“Just you wait.”
“The one leaving is Ai Lian.”
“Next, it will be me walking towards you.”
The timing should be about right.
Bai Xialin glanced at her watch, a smile curling at her lips.
Around the same time.
At Beijing Capital International Airport.
Gao Hongzhi and Ya Xinyao had already bought gifts and were waiting in the VIP lounge for their flight to Donghai.
Just then, a figure suddenly appeared in Gao Hongzhi’s line of sight.
“Oh, what a coincidence!”
If you didn’t listen closely, you’d hardly detect the foreign accent in the man’s voice.
He was a senior executive from Samsung—Baek Jeong-hun.
“President Gao! I didn’t expect you to be on this flight too!”
“Mr. Baek?”
Gao Hongzhi immediately stood up, without a trace of the chairman’s airs.
Privately, he got along with his employees as if they were friends, and besides, Baek Jeong-hun’s passion for cars had already earned his respect.
The day before, the two had been discussing business while talking about cars.
After coffee, they’d ordered large servings of garlic fried chicken and draft beer at a local shop.
The conversation shifted from work to family.
Gao Hongzhi learned that Baek Jeong-hun had a daughter.
Last night, this executive who had expanded Samsung’s frontiers rarely revealed a father’s anxiety.
“Old Gao, tell me, my daughter is a foreigner. Will she be bullied in Donghai?”
“Will people call her a ‘Jjokbari’?”
“She’s outstanding. She’s the center of her girl group, a key figure in her all-girls’ school.”
“Was it really the right decision to move her from Seoul to Donghai because of my job?”
“I’m worried she won’t have any friends in Donghai.”
Looking at his troubled face, Gao Hongzhi suddenly realized.
This titan of the business world, in private, was just a father like him.
“It’ll be fine.”
“I have a son and a daughter, exactly the same age as your daughter.”
“I’m sure they’ll become great friends.”
“Where are you staying in Donghai?”
“Tomson Riviera.”
“Perfect!”
“Let’s host something soon and get the kids properly introduced.”
That was their pact from ten last night—two men drinking beer, eating fried chicken.