Jian Jing was an unfamiliar face with a familiar name. Not long after "Demon Doctor" was published, it defeated many local works and made it to the top of the bestseller charts, where it stayed for over half a year. The guests tonight were all insiders who could not ignore those rising numbers and at least remembered this name.
In order to brush off these boring social occasions, Jian Jing had activated her charm skill, intending to get by on her looks.
But it backfired.
She attracted most men's attention.
Too many men came to hit on her.
Way too many.
"Hi, first time seeing you, may I know your name?" A classic pick-up line.
Jian Jing: My name was on the big screen during the award ceremony just now.
"Pretty girl, I really did not expect you to be the author of Demon Doctor. What goes on in that cute little head of yours to come up with such a fascinating story?" An exaggerated flatterer.
Jian Jing: The cases are based on real ones I've cracked personally. What, you wanna be a protagonist too?
"Sorry, didn't see you here. Oh heavens, please give me a chance to make up." A bad actor.
Jian Jing: The wine doesn't belong to you, so what's with the apology? I almost ruined another dress.
"Jian, nice meeting you, mind going outside for some fresh air with me?" Straight to the point.
Jian Jing: I do mind.
...
The above were all her inner thoughts. In reality, she responded politely to everyone.
"Jian Jing, Jian is my surname, yes, Jing means quiet, but my name is one word that means concise and calm, I'm not sure if the translation is right... Thank you for the compliments."
"Thank you for liking my work. Yes, they are based on some real cases, no no, I'm not scared..."
"It's fine, my dress didn't get wet."
"Sorry, I feel a bit cold. It's okay, I don't need your jacket, I'm good."
That was the reality.
People kept coming to chat her up, and her wine glass kept getting refilled. Jian Jing sinisterly suspected that some of these well-dressed men were intentionally getting her drunk.
Yeah, right.
She secretly took a sobering medicine when no one was looking.
System-certified, drunk-proof through thousands of drinks.
But the others didn't seem to know. Seeing that she had drunk quite a bit, someone soon came over to chat her up.
The man introduced himself as Smith, one of the biggest book publishers in America. Obese and already half drunk, his face flushed red like a pink pig.
He said a lot, the gist being that he thought very highly of her abilities, and if they collaborated, it wouldn't take 3 years for him to make Jian Jing the most popular foreign author in America.
"Sweetheart, you have a bewitching charm." Under the guise of pouring wine, he intimately moved closer, wanting to touch her shoulder.
But Jian Jing grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard. "You're mistaken. What bewitches is murder." Without changing her smiling expression, her tone suddenly turned slow and cold. "There is a demon in everyone's heart - the fear of drowning in the bathtub, a knife in your sleep, and of course..."
Her gaze fell upon his wine glass. The red wine shone under the lights, looking just like a cup of blood. "Poison in wine."
Smith was drunk silly and blurted out in confusion, "Poi...poison?"
Jian Jing snatched away his wine glass and shoved it against his mouth. "The wine is great, drink up."
Smith was suddenly forced to drink a glass. His body couldn't keep up and he coughed badly, anxious and angry. "What did you make me drink?"
"Wine." Jian Jing picked up the glass again, her voice suddenly turning hoarse and rough, as if possessed by a demon. "Let me toast you again."
Smith was bewildered and looked around hastily, only to find no one else within three feet of her.
"Demons are everywhere," she said in that strange voice. "Are you afraid?"
He stared wide-eyed at her.
Jian Jing returned to her original voice, asking gently, "Mr. Smith, what's wrong?"
Smith lowered his head to look at the hand imprint surfacing on his wrist, then back at her - he knew Asian girls were weak and powerless like lambs. How could she have left such a deep bruise?
"Mr. Smith?" She looked slightly drunk, a distant look of intoxication in her eyes.
"Are you afraid?" she asked again, smiling eerily.
Smith understood. Damn it! This girl was possessed by a demon!
Without another word, he turned and left.
Jian Jing: "Tsk."
Foreigners are so superstitious to actually buy this?
"Hello." A spectator in her forties with dark skin came over. "What did you say to him? That just made the pig run away?"
Jian Jing turned, a wry smile on her face but still guarded. "You are...?"
"Doreen Oliver, just call me Doreen." The lady introduced herself.
Jian Jing then remembered she had won this year's sci-fi award. "Jian Jing."
"Then I'll call you Jian," Doreen gestured her over. "Come sit here with me, darling, can't have you left alone again. To those men you're like a lost lamb for them to carry away."
Jian Jing: "...Did I overdo the charm skill?"
She followed Doreen to a corner where a few men and women sat - all writers without publishers. They got acquainted with each other.
Through them, she also verified her guess.
Smith was not a good man. Taking advantage of his position to harass women was commonplace. Most endured this mistreatment for the sake of their jobs or careers.
Doreen said, "I once threw wine in his face and yelled 'F*** off, pig!' Dare cut me off, I'll sue you for racial discrimination."
Jian Jing: "...Truly a local specialty."
"What did you do to scare him away?" Doreen was very curious.
"He said I was a 'demon'. I told him that was my work. He walked away looking disgusted..." Jian Jing pretended her English wasn't very good and acted puzzled.
Others: "You got lucky, girl."
They spent the remaining time gossiping.
Most authors who won AT Book Awards wrote neither serious literature nor were actual writers. Some were housewives, some part-timers writing erot*ca. Sci-fi writers like Doreen were already quite "writerly", so they weren't too aloof or exclusive and chatted quite happily.
A bit past midnight, the banquet drew to an end.
One writer hinted suggestively about continuing the fun at his place. Some nodded, some declined.
Jian Jing declined of course. She knew that wasn't an innocent after-party and had no plans to explore their exotic customs.
Doreen didn't go either and asked her, "Want me to give you a ride back?"
"It's fine, my companion is here."
Doreen didn't insist and handed her a name card instead. "Contact me when free."
Jian Jing accepted it.
On the other side, Kang Mu Cheng was bidding others farewell after some seemingly productive talks.
But Jian Jing sensed something off and hurriedly went to support him. "Are you alright?"
Kang Mu Cheng collected himself and looked her up and down. Seeing her unharmed without the least bit of drunkenness, he relaxed. "Nothing much, just drank too much... Call Dai An to come get us. I need the bathroom."
He still sounded reasonable. Jian Jing felt slightly relieved and called for the car as told.
Dai An had been on standby at the hotel. Hearing this, she immediately replied, "Coming right away, ten minutes."
Yet when she arrived, Kang Mu Cheng still hadn't come out of the bathroom.
Jian Jing couldn't sit still and first knocked tentatively. "Mr. Kang?"
No response inside.
"I'm coming in, okay?" She opened the door and entered.
No one at the urinal or wash basin. He was undoubtedly inside a stall.
Jian Jing pushed open the doors one by one. By now it was mostly empty here with no incidents inside. She finally reached the third one which was locked.
"Teacher Jian, where's Mr. Kang?" Dai An peeked in.
"Mr. Kang?" Jian Jing knocked again. "Can you hear me? Open the door. Kang Mu Cheng??"
Still no reply.
Jian Jing signaled Dai An with her eyes: "Guard the door, don't let anyone else in."
"Oh okay, sure." After the plane incident, Dai An somehow trusted Jian Jing implicitly and obeyed right away, standing guard at the door.
Jian Jing leapt up to cling onto the door panel and peeked inside.
Kang Mu Cheng sat unconscious on the floor, completely blackout drunk.
She carefully climbed down, being careful not to step on him, opened the door, propped the person up, and notified Dai An, "He's drunk."
Dai An hurried to help support him.
So heavy.
Jian Jing couldn't help asking, "Does he get drunk like this often?"
"Not much in China, everyone is very familiar there," Dai An said in a low voice. "When doing business abroad and not knowing anyone, there have been a few times."
Jian Jing sighed, money is hard to earn.
She and Dai An worked together to send Kang Mu Cheng back to his hotel room.
He didn't wake up at all, fortunately he didn't throw up either.
Jian Jing considered for a moment, feeling it would be embarrassing to take advantage of Dai An, the secretary assistant had a bunch of work to do, and her own personal life too. It wouldn't be realistic for her to take care of someone overnight, so she simply said, "You go back, I'll take care of him."
Dai An had no doubts: "Okay Teacher Jian, I'm in the next room over, let me know if you need anything."
"It should be fine, you rest early," Jian Jing felt bad for her too, "The dark circles under your eyes are too heavy, use an eye mask, there's one in the makeup box in my room."
Dai An was touched: "I brought one, thank you."
Jian Jing gently dismissed the former Watson.
Only her and Kang Mu Cheng were left in the room.
Jian Jing covered him with a blanket to prevent hypothermia, propped up his head with pillows so he was lying on his side, and didn't forget to dampen a towel to place on his forehead.
After a while, noticing his breathing was a bit labored, she suddenly remembered his tie was still on. She hurriedly took it off. Seeing the top buttons of his shirt were also buttoned up to the top, she almost couldn't breathe herself.
"If you sleep like this until tomorrow, you'll be exhausted," Jian Jing muttered.
She undid three of his buttons, also loosened his cuffs, and finally adjusted his pants to the widest setting.
His whole body noticeably relaxed as he heavily plunged into drunk dreams.
She couldn't resist and poked him.
Of course Kang Mu Cheng had no reaction.
She chuckled and curled up on the sofa to play on her phone.
--
Kang Mu Cheng awoke thirsty.
Headache, nausea, dry mouth, want to vomit...the usual drunk aftereffects were all there.
He struggled to open his eyes, wanting to get up to find water to drink. But the bedside lamp suddenly turned on, the not too bright light hurt his eyes. It took a good while before he could see clearly.
"Jingjing?" He spoke, his voice hoarse.
"Water?" Jian Jing handed over an opened bottle of mineral water.
Kang Mu Cheng took it and sipped small mouthfuls before feeling his throat get a bit more comfortable.
"Sober up from the alcohol?" she asked.
He said, "Head hurts, what time is it?"
"Half past three, you can sleep some more," Jian Jing yawned, "But I suggest you change clothes first, isn't it tiring to sleep like that?"
Of course it was tiring.
It was like being wrapped up in plastic wrap like a corpse...nevermind. Kang Mu Cheng rubbed his temples, when around her, he would always have some inexplicable thoughts.
"Clothes," Jian Jing took pajamas out from the closet for him and threw them on the bed. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled the half-reclining person up, shoving an ice towel at him, "Change then go back to sleep, I'm heading out."
Kang Mu Cheng's brain was muddled. He barely made out the meaning and nodded.
Only then did she leave.
His brain wasn't working but his muscles had muscle memory. Kang Mu Cheng unconsciously unbuttoned buttons, after groping for a while without finding where the buttons were, he lowered his head to look and found over half were already undone.
Reaching lower to probe, he found the adjustable tabs on his pants were also loosened to the widest setting.
Propping his head up, he thought of Jingjing.
