Chapter 10

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio  Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Jiang Jiusheng V: Wanna take it as mine.

The image was of a sketch of a hand. It had been drawn using only a few strokes, yet it was quite gorgeous.

Rock star Jiang Jiusheng’s hand fetish was no secret among her fans. She had never intended to hide it from them. She was always above board.

Jiang Jiusheng had gained her popularity pretty quickly, but she wasn’t good at socializing. Usually, she barely went anywhere other than her home and the studio. Neither did she have many real friends or even friends on nodding terms. But Su Qing and Xu Qingjiu qualified, the former being the main role in the MV of TheNine, and the latter, another popular singer. They had met many times at ceremonies, and they were her contemporaries, so they would interact on Twitter. But that was just the rumor in the entertainment circle. Who knew if it was true?

Su Qing V: Mine is longer.

The image was of a hand with a tattoo of his initials on his ring finger. It was photoshopped, and the fingers were disproportionately long.

There were quite a lot of CP fans in the comment area of Su Qing’s tweet. He was currently very popular and had 40 million followers on Twitter. He had many official appointed dates. Jiang Jiusheng was a professional singer and had won all kinds of prizes during her three years of work. She never sensationalized or paid to sensationalize herself, unlike most other entertainers. And as a rock singer, she was considered cool and awesome. Su Qing’s fans favored her very much.

Xu Qingjiu V: An artist who has been stuck in singing.

The interaction was pleasant enough, but Xu Qingjiu’s fans were not on good terms with those of Jiang Jiusheng because Xu was an idol while Jiang was a professional.

Li Ranran V: The fingers are so long. I have some unusual information.

Jin Fanglin V: @Li Ranran I wanna have a word with you.

Zhang Nai V: It’s considered a remarkable hand.

Mo Bing V: [How dare you sneak a hand behind my back] jpg.

Jiang Jiusheng grinned. Mo Bing seldom used emojis or pictures, but she often used her images.

Secret lover of Sheng Ye: Sign up. Love you, my husband.

Shengshengbuxi: I could play with it for a year.

Wobuchuanqiukuwoliangshuang: Sheng Ye, you praised my hands last night in bed.

Badaozongcaidexiaojiaoqi: Honey, how could you take others’ hands?!

Tianxiaguiri: [Honey, take my hand, it’s yours] jpg.

******

Tianyajintoushiwodeai: Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that Liu Xu hasn’t interacted with Sheng Ye for a while?

Zuiqiangguangtouqiang : +1.

Ritianridirishengye:+2.

******

Shengshengshengsheng: It’s always yours.

This account was familiar to Jiang Jiusheng. It appeared every time, the second she posted.

Jiang Jiusheng stared at the comment for a while and asked, “You are?”

Shi Jin.

The name was typed and deleted multiple times. Then Shi Jin frowned and shut the page.

He got up to fetch the dog food and put it in the container. The puppy jumped out right away to its food. It was a white Pomeranian with big round eyes.

“Do you miss your mom?” Shi Jin rubbed its head.

It wiggled its tail, eating its food with a humming sound, displaying its joy.

“I can’t take you to her,” its master said. “You’ll annoy her.”

The puppy was not happy and let out a low bark. The cold hand on its head suddenly went tight and moved to its neck. Its master had a pair of nice white hands.

The puppy resumed its silence and moved back in panic. The dog was called Jiang Bomei. It sounded prudent; even as a dog, it had a surname. But the name revealed the idleness of the one who had given it. The name claimed the surname “Jiang” as part of the dog’s ancestry.

Bomei feared its master greatly. The first time they’d met, it had been taken by the shop owner in a nice cage to a well-furnished house where there were only three colors: black, white, and gray. Then a handsome man had appeared.

“You’re Jiang Bomei.”

It had let out a bark.

The handsome man had taken out a photo of a pretty woman and said, “This is your mom.”

This was its master. He seemed nice.

Jiang Bomei had barked hard and lunged for the photo.

Clack.

A long scalpel had dropped from the fruit container.

“Another bark at her,” the master had said, “you’ll lose your tongue.”

Bomei had gone silent.

Since the first day Jiang Bomei had met its master, it had feared him and the shining scalpels in the fruit container, the sink, and the fridge.

“Sir,” a man said over the phone. “The disrupting signal has been launched. The surveillance footage will be sent to you in five minutes.”

Bow! Wow!

Bomei looked at its master, lowered its head, and took its food back to its place.

******

By 10 o’clock at night, the comments of the tweet had exceeded 10,000. Jiang Jiusheng closed the page and took a shower before going to bed—just as any healthy person born in the 80s.

The phone on the bedside table buzzed. It was Xie Dang.

Jiang Jiusheng picked up. “Hello.”

The man’s voice was as deafening as usual: “Jiang Jiusheng!”

She pulled the phone away and rubbed her ear. She put the phone down and switched it to hands-free mode. She asked, “Are you having lunch?”

At this time in M country, it was lunchtime. A humming sound came from the other side of the phone. Jiang Jiusheng could imagine that the spoiled boy must have been sitting with legs crossed, chopsticks thrown away, a bite of food in his mouth, with the appearance of one who required comfort because he was in a bad mood.

Jiang Jiusheng leaned on the bed and squinted. “Don’t choke yourself.”

Xie Dang was spoiled by the people around him—except for Jiang Jiusheng. She wouldn’t even give him a smile, so he often got angry with her.

Xie Dang was letting off steam over the phone and roared, “I sent you a number. It’s a famous doctor. You have to treat your hand fetishism,” he teased.

Then, beep… Xie Dang hung up, leaving Jiang Jiusheng with nothing but his contempt and the beep sound. But she was used to it.

Jiang Jiusheng’s singing teacher was the well-known master Xie Muzhou. She had been taken in as a sophomore. Xie Dang was her master’s son, so technically, Xie Dang was supposed to address her with respect. But, as prestigious as he was, how would he—a boy who had held a concert at Vienna—act in such a way when he was already a talented prodigy? Moreover, Xie Dang was not happy with Jiang Jiusheng giving up on the cello in favor of a guitar in the entertainment circle.