Chapter 25: Fallen Into the Immortals

Zhou Xun saw strangers in the room, didn’t feel shy, and smiled at Wu Yuchen and Qi Jing: “Hello~”

She only said hello, didn’t introduce herself, then shivered and rushed back into the inner room.

Dou Peng casually explained: “My girlfriend.”

Wu Yuchen was startled—he never expected to meet Zhou Xun under these circumstances, and especially not this impossibly youthful Zhou Gongzi!

And just now Dou Peng said Zhou Xun was his girlfriend, and that he played music—so he wasn’t just…

“Someone here?”

Another male voice came from outside; a short-haired young man in a tight white tank top stood at the door, bare-armed, lean-faced, thin-lipped, with a high nose bridge and an air of solitary pride in his eyes.

Dou Wei, the Immortal Dou!

“Brother, these are my friends, here to hire me for the film’s soundtrack.” Dou Peng replied.

Dou Peng was Dou Wei’s younger cousin, and under Dou Wei’s influence had taken up rock music; in 1993, during a performance in Yuhang, he won over Zhou Gongzi, this little fan, sparking romance—Xun Ge’er then followed Dou Peng out of home to Beijing, becoming a Beijing drift.

Upon hearing this, Dou Wei nodded at Wu Yuchen and Qi Jing: “Make yourselves at home.”

Then he said nothing more, went out to the courtyard, fetched a washbasin, draped a towel over his neck, and went to fetch water to wash his face.

Wu Yuchen felt disoriented—he’d walked into an immortal’s den…

Since his rebirth, he’d met plenty of celebrities from his past life, but those had all been anticipated encounters; today, just tagging along with Qi Jing to find a composer, he ended up at Dou Wei’s house—and bumped into Xun Ge’er—completely beyond his expectations.

Before he could withdraw his gaze, another short-haired, coldly beautiful woman appeared in the courtyard: wearing a red short-sleeve top, black shorts, and slippers, carrying a spittoon, she glanced his way, then walked out of the courtyard.

Wu Yuchen knew the spittoon held night urine—there was no toilet in the courtyard, and no one would venture outside to a public restroom at night, so in those days, Beijing households all used spittoons for night urine, emptying them the next day.

And that coldly beautiful woman who’d just carried out the night urine? It was the Heavenly Queen, Wang Fei!

Wu Yuchen was numb—had he just witnessed a legendary moment?

Were there reporters sneaking photos right now?

At this time, although Dou Wei had become famous, his fame still paled beside Wang Fei’s; she was already a sensation in Hong Kong, having just won last year’s Most Popular Female Singer award, with record sales and a fortune in the tens of millions.

So when this scene—Wang Fei carrying a spittoon for Dou Wei—was photographed and leaked to Hong Kong, it caused a massive uproar.

No one could believe that Wang Fei, perceived as fresh, elegant, and aloofly fashionable, would willingly carry a spittoon for a man in this crumbling hut in a back alley!

The story later spread widely online and became proof, in everyone’s eyes, of Wang Fei’s true love for Dou Wei.

But wasn’t there another possibility—that Wang Fei, raised since childhood in the alleyways, had long been accustomed to it?

Wu Yuchen’s mind churned with chaotic thoughts as he watched Wang Fei return moments later, skillfully filling a basin from the courtyard faucet, rinsing the spittoon, pouring the water into a flowerpot, then retreating back inside.

He turned his gaze away, exhaled, and thought: What a small world!

Soon after, Zhou Xun stepped out wrapped in a coat, smiling sweetly at Wu Yuchen and Qi Jing like a neighborhood little sister:

“I heard from Peng Ge that you made a movie—I want to watch it~”

“Welcome, welcome! You’re Zhou Xun, right?” Wu Yuchen asked eagerly.

“You know me?”

“You played the Hua Diao in ‘Daughter Red’ so well—I remembered you when I saw it in the cinema last month!”

Zhou Xun’s face lit up—it was her first time playing a lead role since arriving in Beijing, even if only as the young version of the heroine; still, receiving praise for her performance filled her with quiet joy.

At that moment, Dou Peng rose from behind the TV, frowning and shouting outside: “Brother, is your VCR broken?”

“Dunno, haven’t used it in a while—check if it’s dusty.” Dou Wei’s voice came from outside.

“Peng Ge, let me take a look.”

Wu Yuchen stepped forward, tinkered with it, and realized Dou Peng had connected the cables wrong—he reconnected and adjusted them properly.

When he turned back, he found the small room packed with people.

Dou Wei entered carrying fried dough sticks and soybean juice; beside him, Wang Fei placed two bowls of pickled vegetables on the table; Zhou Xun had already picked up a fried dough stick and was eating it.

Dou Peng asked Wu Yuchen and Qi Jing: “Want some?”

Qi Jing didn’t hesitate—she walked over, grabbed a fried dough stick, and ate it with the bold, carefree air of a Beijing girl.

Wu Yuchen turned on the VCR and took the fried dough stick Zhou Xun offered, taking a bite.

The TV screen went dark for a few seconds, then began playing.

The people in the room ate breakfast while occasionally glancing at the screen.

At first, no one paid much attention—they chewed fried dough sticks, drank soybean juice, the room filled with the crisp crunch of dough and the gurgling of liquid going down.

But halfway through the short film, chewing and eating sounds gradually faded; everyone fixed their eyes on the screen, completely absorbed by the plot.

When the film reached its end, the room fell silent; the male lead, Duan Long, stood before the ruins, offering a strangely unsettling smile—the screen cut to black, and Dou Peng shuddered involuntarily.

After the screen went dark, he turned to Wu Yuchen, eyes wide: “You shot this?”

Wu Yuchen nodded, smiling faintly.

“Brother, you’re seriously good!”

Not just Dou Peng—even the others, who’d previously treated Wu Yuchen as a stranger, now looked at him with new respect.

“Incredible. When I saw that final smile, my brain just exploded!”

Zhou Xun exclaimed, then grinned at Wu Yuchen: “Big Director, next time you make a film, consider me, okay~?”

“Definitely~” Wu Yuchen gave a thumbs-up.

Wang Fei had shed her earlier aloof, sleepy demeanor and asked directly: “Why did he smile at the end?”

Of course—it was always this question. Wu Yuchen knew 80% of viewers of ‘Car 44’ would ask it.

“Why do you think he smiled? That’s why he smiled.” Wu Yuchen replied with a vague, smiling answer.

“You’re playing a thousand Hamlets here!” Wang Fei retorted.

Wu Yuchen raised his thumb and praised: “Sis, brilliant! You saw right through my intent!”

Wang Fei gave him a warm, amused glance and went back to sipping her now-cooling soybean juice.

Beside them, Dou Wei rubbed his chin, staring at the screen, then suddenly asked: “How do you want to score it?”