59: Past

After showering, Mai walked out of the bathroom, her body radiating warm steam and the fresh scent of shower gel. Wearing her newly bought cotton pajamas, she dried her damp hair with a towel and stepped lightly behind Lin Luo.

She leaned over curiously and found Lin Luo leaning on the sofa, his phone screen glowing faintly, displaying an encyclopedia entry and news reports about "Sakurajima Mai." The screen showed her past acting career, award records, and even some materials compiled by fans.

Seeing this, Mai couldn't help but curl her lips slightly, saying softly in a teasing tone, "Mr. Lin Luo, if you want to know me that much, wouldn't it be better to just ask me directly? Information on the internet might not be entirely accurate."

Lin Luo seemed to have noticed her approach long ago and wasn't startled. Hearing her, he only turned his head slightly, glancing at Mai, who was still steaming from the bath with cheeks flushed from the heat. He then calmly pressed the power button on his phone, and the screen instantly went dark.

"Mainly," he said in a flat tone, devoid of emotion, "this 'person in question' is a bit dishonest, mixing truth with lies, making it hard to tell. For example, at first, you said you were just 'passing by' the shrine, but later admitted you went there 'specifically.' So, I thought it would be more reliable to verify things myself and see if there's any other hidden key information."

His words hit the mark, causing the smile on Mai's face to stiffen slightly. She puffed her cheeks in annoyance; this guy was truly vengeful and sharp.

"That... that's because we weren't familiar at first! Besides, that kind of thing... who would easily reveal everything to someone they just met!" she tried to defend herself, but her voice instinctively grew quieter, carrying a hint of guilt from being exposed.

Lin Luo raised an eyebrow noncommittally and didn't dwell on the issue. His gaze lingered for a moment on the tips of her hair, which were still dripping, and he changed the subject: "Dry your hair, or you'll catch a cold. Even though your current state is special, you'll still feel miserable if you get sick."

His concern came somewhat abruptly yet naturally, making the words Mai wanted to argue with get stuck in her throat. She silently picked up the towel and continued drying her hair. For a while, the only sound in the room was the faint friction of the towel against her hair and the distant hum of the city from outside the window.

Lin Luo looked at the information scrolling on his phone screen and remarked with a hint of emotion, "I see in the reports that you've been retired for some time now. I didn't expect the level of attention and discussion online to still be so high." He looked up at Mai, his tone carrying a sense of confirmation, "I didn't realize you really were such a famous superstar."

Hearing this, Sakurajima Mai wore an expression of disbelief, as if she had heard something incredible. "You... you really didn't know me?" Her national-level fame seemed to be non-existent to him.

Lin Luo shrugged indifferently and explained, "Why would I, someone from the Mainland, pay special attention to celebrities here in the Neon District?" His reasoning was simple and direct, reflecting a regional information gap.

"Fine..." Mai pursed her lips and accepted the explanation, but her expression still inevitably showed a slight sense of loss, typical of a former top-tier idol.

Lin Luo turned the phone screen toward her, pointed to a line of text, and asked the next question: "It also says here that you suddenly announced your retirement in your third year of middle school. Why?"

This question seemed to trigger a switch. The expression on Mai's face froze instantly, her eyes flickered and quickly dimmed. She didn't answer; she just pursed her lips, turned around with a complex expression, and walked silently toward the large bed in the center of the room. She pulled back the covers and lay down, her back to Lin Luo, clearly unwilling to talk more.

Lin Luo looked at her resistant posture and raised an eyebrow. Instead of stopping, he read out the most widely circulated speculation on the internet in a calm, almost cruel tone:

"According to the analysis in the reports, the main reason is speculated to be a swimsuit photo book you shot back then, which caused quite a bit of controversy. Subsequently, you had a serious disagreement with your Management Agency over your future development, had a falling out, and finally stopped all acting activities out of spite—is that the reason?"

Lin Luo didn't stop because of her coldness; instead, he continued following his train of thought: "Was it a bit impulsive? Today at the mall, I noticed the look in your eyes when you were looking at those giant celebrity posters... There was interest and scrutiny, but hidden deep down was envy."

"I think you probably aren't truly willing to completely leave this stage. You were still a bit too young..."

Mai's back was still toward him, her voice carrying a suppressed coldness. "I also thought about it for a long time before deciding..."

Her shoulders tensed slightly, as if resisting some surging memories.

She was still a middle school student then!

She thought it was just a regular photo shoot, but as soon as she entered the studio, a swimsuit was suddenly pushed into her hands. She was surrounded by unfamiliar adults, the lights were blinding, and the camera lenses were like cold eyes... They said it was a contract already signed. Even though she felt disgusted and humiliated to the core, she had to do it because "it's work." She could only force her lips to curl up into a sweet, "professional" smile that met their expectations.

In an ordinary life, a tearful "no" might have been enough to get one's way.

If she had thrown a tantrum and resolutely resisted, she might have been able to refuse. But she was Sakurajima Mai, the Sakurajima Mai who had been required to be a "professional" in the entertainment industry since the age of six.

In the vanity fair constructed by adults, "causing trouble on set" was absolutely not allowed. She had to constantly watch the expressions of those around her and make the most "advantageous" and "sensible" judgments.

Even though she was still a child, she had to force herself to act like a mature adult, suppressing all her true emotions and whims.

And what chilled her to the bone the most was her mother—the person who should have been her strongest support. In that incident, what her mother showed was not concern or protection for her daughter, but a calculation of commercial value and contract fulfillment after weighing the pros and cons.

The color of that affection was so murky, carrying a bone-chilling reality and indifference.

Thus, Lin Luo noticed that the most important reason wasn't simple spite, but a deeper, more resolute rebellion—a complete rebellion against the mother who saw her as a "product" that could be packaged and sold at will.

Destroying the value of that carefully crafted "product" in the most extreme way was perhaps the most intense struggle her young self could muster in that situation.

Mai still didn't turn around, but her slightly trembling shoulders and increasingly heavy breathing silently confirmed Lin Luo's speculation.

Those forcibly suppressed feelings of grievance, anger, and helplessness seemed to finally find a tiny outlet on this quiet night when only he could see her.

Lin Luo's words sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet room, carrying an unquestionable certainty: "I believe that since that's the case, you should return to the entertainment industry even more."

Mai hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees, her voice muffled coming from the bedding: "Why?" There was confusion in her voice, and a hint of undetectable vulnerability. She didn't understand why, after exposing those unpleasant past events, she didn't receive comfort or agreement, but instead such a seemingly contrary suggestion.

"Because," Lin Luo's gaze fell calmly on her curled-up back, his tone steady and powerful, "even though you already have such unpleasant memories, right now, you are still passively and continuously creating new 'unpleasant memories'—isn't this state of 'not being seen' just another form of endurance and torture?"

He paused and continued, "If you really still want to stand on that stage and face the camera, then, 'If it's what you want to do, there's no need to endure. Just go.'"

"Even an outsider like me understands this," his voice wasn't loud, but it struck Mai's heart like a hammer. "So, Sakurajima Mai, you, who have been struggling in this circle since you were six and know its rules and cruelty better than anyone, should actually know it in your heart, right? Escaping and disappearing won't solve the fundamental problem. A true counterattack isn't destroying yourself, but taking back control and standing in that place again in a way you approve of."

His words tore open the true heart that Mai had been trying to cover up with "retirement" and "disappearance." She indeed wasn't satisfied; the light flickering deep in her eyes when she looked at the posters couldn't lie. The so-called "not wanting to be dazzling anymore" was perhaps more deeply a fear of being hurt again, a helplessness and fear regarding the inability to control her own image and destiny.

Mai's arms tightened around her knees, and she didn't immediately argue. Lin Luo's words were like a precise scalpel, cutting through her layers of defense and revealing the core that still loved performing but was covered in scars.

Silence fell over the room again, but this time, it was no longer a stalemate or avoidance, but a heavy yet gradually clarifying contemplation.

The conversation in the room stopped, and the lights went out, leaving only a dim, warm yellow lamp by the bedside outlining the blurred shapes of the furniture. Sakurajima Mai seemed to have finally lowered part of her guard and fell into a deep sleep, her breathing becoming even and long. On the single sofa against the wall, Lin Luo, who should have entered a state of meditation and Qi regulation, opened his eyes, showing no sign of sleepiness.

He picked up his phone, the cold light of the screen casting faint shadows on his calm face. He skillfully opened an internal Special Affairs Department software and found the contact labeled "Mr. Long."

After a moment's hesitation, his fingertips tapped quickly on the virtual keyboard, sending a concise and clear text about today's encounter at the Inari Shrine, specifically confirming that Sakurajima Mai's abnormal state stemmed from a god granting a wish, as well as the profound White Fox Divine Emissary and the deity that might exist behind it.

Finally, he attached the most critical question: "Mr. Long, in your opinion, how can I 'formally' meet this deity and conduct effective communication, or even discuss modifying the details of the wish?"