Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 21 - Shining Girl
Chapter 21: Shining Girl
Chen Die was very familiar with that smell of cigarette smoke.
She instinctively looked back and forth down the hallway. The voice-activated lights had gone dark again, leaving the corridor pitch black—no one was there.
Chen Die frowned slightly, then let out a breath. As she walked back toward the banquet hall, she just so happened to run into Chen Shao coming out through the door.
Chen Shao raised an eyebrow. “Sister?”
“......”
Chen Die thought, Here this idiot goes again.
Chen Shao suddenly acted like he had a great revelation, dragging out an “Ahhh,” and teasing, “Getting a little wild, huh, sister? What were you just doing with Wen Liang?”
“Huh?”
“It’s so dark out there, and he just left you and came back by himself? Not very gentlemanly, tsk tsk.” He clicked his tongue twice.
Chen Die looked over his shoulder toward the hall and saw Wen Liang weaving through the crowd, already back in his seat.
Combining that with the cigarette smell she’d just caught by the restroom… it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened.
So Wen Liang knew she went to deal with Wang Yunxi—and even stood guard at the door for her?
Wang Yunxi arrived just then, freshly groomed and put together. Her expression, full of disgust and anger when she first saw Chen Die, suddenly shifted into one of disdain and mockery when she spotted Chen Shao beside her.
Then, it became contempt and sarcasm.
Chen Die glanced at her and immediately understood—she had clearly misunderstood her relationship with Chen Shao.
Not bothering to explain, Chen Die crossed her arms and stepped aside to let her pass.
Chen Shao, acting like some sleazy delinquent, even let out a low whistle.
“You don’t get along with her?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“I’m just saying, sister—” Chen Shao drawled lazily, resting an arm over her shoulder, “if you keep this fiery attitude like Wen Liang’s, you're gonna have a rough time in showbiz.”
Chen Die said nothing, just calmly looked at him.
After a moment, Chen Shao raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning playfully. “Alright, alright, I get it—you two aren’t a thing anymore. Poor Wen Liang, though, must’ve burned through billions on you for nothing.”
Chen Die frowned. “What?”
“You didn’t know?” Chen Shao raised a brow. “Just a few days before you signed with Yiming, at the bidding conference, Wen Liang snatched a project Chen Ke had been prepping for half a year.”
“Brutal,” Chen Shao chuckled. “Just to mess with Chen Ke for his dear biological daughter, he burned billions. Not sure who ended up winning in the end, though.”
The bidding conference?
Chen Die remembered Zhu Qicong had mentioned it before.
Timing matched up—it was the same day she’d moved out of the villa in the western suburbs.
And the night before, she had run into Lin Quan, got her palm cut, and Wen Liang had promised to ‘settle the score’ the next day.
So that project Wen Liang took from Chen Ke... was likely the revenge he’d mentioned.
Very much in character for him.
Chen Die spaced out for a moment.
After a few more words with Chen Shao, she re-entered the banquet hall.
The auction on stage had already begun, and the current item being showcased was that thousand-year-old hairpin—the core artifact in their movie.
The prop department had already prepared a replica for filming. Chen Die had seen it and was quite familiar with it.
Their film’s story started as a tale of a young woman avenging her family, eventually rising to a broader patriotic theme of protecting the country.
The male and female leads are separated by war, ultimately divided by life and death, and that hairpin is the final token of love.
‘The green mountains never grow old, for the snow has turned them white. The clear waters once calm, now ripple from the wind.’
The big screen displayed a close-up of the hairpin—its former brilliance dulled by the wear of time, now heavy with an unspoken, indescribable aura.
And the person who donated it for this charity auction was said to be a descendant of the story’s male lead.
The hairpin had been passed down through generations as a family heirloom. The current owner had remained unmarried and childless his whole life, with no one left to inherit it. Offering it for charity was, in a way, his final act of legacy.
After the host shared the backstory, he announced, “Let’s have a round of applause to thank the donor, Mr. Li Heqi! This is also the only item tonight with no starting bid—entirely up to your eyes and hearts.”
Applause echoed through the hall as the bidding began.
“1.5 million!”
“1.6 million!”
……
When the bidding reached 2.5 million, Lu Chuan—who had remained silent until now— suddenly raised his paddle. “2.8 million.”
The rest of the film crew turned to look at him. Lu Chuan was known for his low profile, and no one expected him to make a move at the auction.
Still, it wasn’t entirely out of character. For an artist like him, dropping serious money on a historical artifact with a story made perfect sense.
“3 million.”
Another male voice rang out across the banquet hall.
Everyone turned to look. The man seated in the front row had raised his paddle. His fingers were long and lean, tendons faintly visible beneath the skin, stretching to a wrist adorned with an exquisite watch—every detail exuding wealth and elegance.
The atmosphere reached a peak as more bids followed, pushing the number even higher.
Lu Chuan didn’t raise his paddle again. He wasn't the type to fight others over something, even if he truly liked it.
Eventually, the gavel struck at 5 million, finalizing the sale. An attendant carefully packed the hairpin and delivered it to Wen Liang.
“Why didn’t you keep bidding?” Feng Zhi, seated beside Lu Chuan, asked with a smile. Lu Chuan simply smiled and shook his head. “Since Mr. Wen values the hairpin so much, why would I fight over what he holds dear?”
The charity banquet came to an end.
Filming was scheduled to continue the next day, so Chen Die followed the film crew out.
Feng Zhi walked ahead and called out to the man standing by his car: “Mr. Wen!”
Wen Liang turned around, his expression unchanged. He shook Feng Zhi’s hand, his gaze never once landing on Chen Die.
Meanwhile, Zhu Qicong, standing slightly behind Wen Liang, was frozen with uncertainty— unsure whether to pretend not to know Chen Die or not. He stood stiffly with his eyes lowered.
Feng Zhi exchanged a few pleasantries with Wen Liang about the hairpin.
The two had only met occasionally at public events and weren’t close, so the conversation ended quickly.
Feng Zhi led everyone back to the production van.
Chen Die was the last to walk past. As she passed Wen Liang, she said quietly, “Thank you.”
Wen Liang paused slightly in the motion of opening the car door, then got in without saying a word.
“Mr. Wen, are we heading back to Mingqi Apartments or the Western Suburbs?” Zhu Qicong asked.
“Linqian Cemetery.”
Wen Liang sat in the back seat, eyes closed, pressing his fingers against his brow.
Zhu Qicong froze, then quickly realized the date. He said nothing else and quietly drove toward Linqian Cemetery.
The hairpin—purchased for 5 million—was placed delicately inside a crystal box, secured with a silver-white ribbon, resting gently beside Wen Liang’s leg.
The car glided smoothly through the night, brushing past the production team’s van.
A few moments later, Wen Liang opened his eyes again, exhaled lightly, and pulled out his phone.
The PR team had already posted pictures of the event’s celebrity attendees.
A 9-photo grid—the last three were of Chen Die.
Compared to Wang Yunxi’s glamorous appearance, Chen Die’s outfit was far simpler, but she wore it best.
Wen Liang suddenly realized he hadn’t really looked at her in a long time. In his mind, she’d always just been beautiful, with fair skin and a great figure.
But what else?
In the photo, she wore a black dress, her long, wavy hair cascading down as she waved at the camera.
Her smile was poised, her figure striking—comments beneath the photo were full of playful and flattering compliments.
Wen Liang hated this version of Chen Die—like a pretty but empty shell.
He much preferred the version from earlier at the restroom: lively, fierce, and threatening.
In the stillness of night, a black Bentley pulled into the parking lot outside the cemetery.
Linqian Cemetery was well-maintained, staffed 24/7 with attendants. Wen Liang signed in at the gate and entered the grounds.
He climbed the central steps, eventually stopping in front of a gravestone.
The area around the grave was clean and orderly. In front of the headstone sat a small white flower—a daily offering provided by the cemetery.
The headstone bore the image of a young woman.
Her features resembled Wen Liang’s—delicate and beautiful.
The age she appeared in the photo was not far from Wen Liang’s current age. Yet that had been the prime of her life.
She had married early, given birth to Wen Liang young, and passed away early as well.
At the time, Wen Liang was still in elementary school. One afternoon, he came home to an empty house—no parents, no servants.
He ran upstairs and pushed open the door to his parents’ bedroom, only to see his mother lying on the bed, face ashen. The effects of the drugs had caused her to curl in on herself, cold sweat pouring from her forehead.
It was the first time he had seen his graceful, beautiful mother look so helpless and disheveled.
He was at a complete loss—young and clueless—as he watched her die before his eyes, her heartbeat and breath slowly fading away.
That was more than ten years ago. Now, standing in front of the gravestone again, his emotions were calm. Wen Liang looked quietly at the woman on the stone.
“It’s been eighteen years,” he said softly. “I wonder if you regret it.”
“But you liked peace and quiet. Maybe this is better. Besides, if you were alive, you’d probably just be angry at me all the time.” Wen Liang smiled faintly. “I’ve done nothing but bastard things.”
Only the sound of the wind responded, just as quiet.
After a long silence, Wen Liang said, “Eighteen years… there’s only one thing I think I did right.”
“……”
“But that’s not how she sees it.”
Wen Liang didn’t linger. There wasn’t much to say. He quickly returned to Mingqi Apartments.
After a shower and clearing out his work emails, it was already late into the night. But he still couldn’t fall asleep. His mind kept returning to another scene—one from four years ago.
Four years ago, on this exact day—
Wen Liang had also just returned from the cemetery. But back then, it was to the Western Suburb villa.
The young girl at home had just finished her college entrance exams, running wild in celebration. When he walked in, Chen Die was sitting cross-legged on the couch, playing video games. She was all excited, asking him to join her.
Wen Liang had no interest in that. He went straight to his bedroom.
He lay on the bed, as he had done on this date every year for over a decade, unable to sleep peacefully.
In his dream, he was weightless—his head heavy, feet untethered, no light above, no ground below. Like he was falling into an endless abyss.
His mother’s pained, curled-up body in the moments before her death replayed again and again before his eyes.
It was like being submerged in icy lake water—no sound, no breath, just the raw fear buried deep in his subconscious running wild in the dream.
Then suddenly, a sound pierced the silence.
Sharp and distinct, completely out of place in the silent dream—it startled his nerves like a whip crack.
He woke up.
The bedroom door was opening.
Warm light poured in from the hallway. A girl in a soft cotton nightgown and slippers stood at his door.
The light wrapped around her, like she was glowing.
The bedroom, by contrast, was pitch black. Wen Liang could see nothing—except for glowing Chen Die.
She had just blow-dried her hair; her soft, black waves fell down over her chest. Her eyes were clear and bright as she looked straight at him.
“Brother Wen Liang, are you asleep?”
Her voice was soft, pulling him fully out of the dream, the chill in his body gradually receding.
Wen Liang rubbed his face and asked hoarsely, “What are you doing here this late?”
Chen Die didn’t answer. She shuffled into the room in small steps, walked to his bedside, hesitated, then climbed onto the bed and knelt there, looking at him.
“I watched a scary movie this morning… I’m too scared to sleep alone,” she mumbled, eyes lowered. “Can I stay here with you?”
“No,” Wen Liang refused without a second thought. “Go back to your room.”
“I don’t want to.”
Chen Die didn’t even know where this sudden boldness came from. But she stiffened her neck and, without warning, lifted his blanket and slipped in.
Wen Liang grabbed the little hoodie attached to her nightgown and tried to drag her out, scolding, “Chen Die, how old are you? Still saying you want to sleep with me?”
Now that things had come to this, Chen Die was determined not to budge. She refused to get off his bed.
“I’m eighteen! And I’m sleeping here tonight!”
Wen Liang was still half out of it from the dream, and the image of her glowing in the doorway was burned into his mind like a brand.
And now that very same radiant girl was curled up under his blanket beside him, looking like a martyr ready to die for her cause—stubborn, ridiculous, and oddly adorable.
“Chen Die.”
He stopped trying to pull her out. Instead, he looked down at her and asked, “Didn’t your school teach you biology?”
Chen Die didn’t catch the meaning behind the question and answered without thinking, “I was in the liberal arts track. I didn’t take biology.”
Wen Liang chuckled, “What about sex ed?”
Only then did Chen Die realize what he meant.
She hadn’t really thought things through—she’d just acted on a burst of reckless courage, running into Wen Liang’s room purely on instinct. Only now did she fully understand.
She stared at him, then called him by name: “Wen Liang.”
Not Brother Wen Liang anymore.
Wen Liang understood.
He was a little surprised, but didn’t overthink it. Instead, he smiled and pinched her cheek. “Getting bold, huh, Lingling?”
“I know what I’m doing. I’m already 18, I’ve graduated, I’m an adult now.” Chen Die looked at him and spoke seriously.
Wen Liang lifted the blanket, reached under her dress, and pinched the inside of her thigh.
Chen Die couldn’t take it—her eyes widened and she let out a small whimper from deep in her throat, body going stiff.
Wen Liang snorted softly, “Look at you. Still scared stiff, and you call yourself an adult.”
“Wen Liang,” she frowned slightly, “stop looking down on me. I meant what I said.”
They looked at each other in the darkness for a few seconds.
He had to admit—this girl he’d unexpectedly brought into his life really was a sight to behold. Beautiful no matter how he looked at her, especially now—blushing, stubborn, vivid and alive.
Wen Liang asked one last time, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then come here.” He pulled her into his arms and rolled over on top of her.
Wen Liang didn’t think too deeply about why she had come to his room in the middle of the night, insisting on sleeping beside him, even offering herself so freely.
He just knew—it felt good. Addictive. And it wasn’t long before he started bringing the girl into his room to sleep with him regularly.
But it wasn’t until that day—when he showed up drunk and heard her speak—that he realized… Chen Die had once loved him in a way that was desperate, reckless, and painfully humble.
The girl he’d raised, the one he always believed belonged only to him, could now stand confidently under the spotlight, admired and praised by many.
She had gone from loving him to giving up on him—and now she shone entirely on her own.
And Wen Liang suddenly understood what he had long overlooked: it was Chen Die who had once dragged him—kicking and screaming—out of his darkness and into the light of the world.
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