The pop superstar adjusted my earpiece, and then, on instinct, kissed my hair.

We both froze.

Because this was a reality show about divorce.

And we were from different couples.

1

After I divorced Ashton, everyone thought I would be the one clinging to him.

He had announced our marriage at the peak of his fame. After successfully transitioning his career and finally winning awards, my name would always come up.

"How did she get so lucky?" they'd say. "She doesn't deserve him."

I was the one who asked for the divorce.

But he had been waiting for it for a long time.

While he was on set with his co-star, an actress named Vera, wearing his clothes, using his phone case, playing the part of a "set couple"…

I was still at home, flipping through a calendar, waiting for him to come back, only to have my calls rejected again and again with the excuse of being "busy."

Until one day, I ran into Vera in first class.

She greeted me with a warm, beaming smile.

"Did you know," she whispered in my ear, "I paid for this flight with his card."

She was doing it on purpose.

Trying to force me to divorce him.

I gave her what she wanted. I went home and was packed and gone within half an hour.

I don't want things that other people have touched and soiled.

Thank God, we didn't have any children.

Ashton leaned against the doorframe, watching me.

His reaction was muted. He only asked one thing: "What else do you want?"

"Your phone."

He was taken aback but handed it over without a fight.

In the years when he loved me most, when I was by his side as he climbed from obscurity to stardom, I had always been his one and only pinned contact.

Now, I had been replaced.

All that was left was "Do Not Disturb."

We signed the papers. He gave me everything he had earned over the years, just begging me to let him go quickly.

He said he was truly in love with Vera.

After signing a non-disclosure agreement, I left, thinking I would never have contact with him again.

Until he called me, one month after the divorce.

"We need to meet."

"We can't let the fans find out you cheated. The show still has to air."

I had arrived early.

In the break room, Ashton's manager was trying to persuade him.

"You're divorced, but you're still a top-tier actor. And her? She's just a nobody waiting to become a laughingstock."

"She's definitely not going to take this lying down."

"So, you just trick her. Tell her you want to go on a divorce reality show with her."

"Let her think she still has a chance to win you back, make her grovel and please you."

"Then, in the final edit, we'll make her look annoying, and you'll get to keep your 'devoted lover' persona."

The manager nudged him. "Are you even listening?"

Ashton had his legs propped up on a low table, lazily playing a game on his phone. "Yeah," he grunted.

"I'm telling you, you snap your fingers, and she'll come crawling back like a grateful puppy."

In the meeting room.

Ashton toyed with his phone with one hand.

He said a few simple words.

And I agreed.

"I'll do the show."

He stared into my eyes, hesitating for a moment. "Are you really that… desperate for me?"

He was so confident, so easy to fool.

I lowered my lashes.

"Yes."

"Ashton," I whispered, "is there still a chance for us?"

His gaze was cold. He turned his face away and said softly, "We'll see how you perform."

"But," he added, "the premise of this show isn't what you think."

This divorce reality show was set to air during the broadcast of his new drama with Vera.

It was all to hype up their on-screen couple pairing.

The show's theme was "Try a different lifestyle, see the problems in your marriage."

Vera would be in a room with him.

And I would be in a room with Vera's husband.

The man who, at nineteen, shot to fame with a single drama, won every major award, and then promptly retired to get married: Cole.

Ashton had basically picked up Cole's scraps.

He had risen to fame with a face that was seventy percent similar to Cole's.

The rumor was that Vera and Cole lived apart after their marriage.

That she loved him, but he didn't love her back.

2

A hot spring resort.

Two rooms, separated by a single wall.

A live broadcast.

There was an observation room for the cast and a live comment feed for the audience.

【OMG, Ashton and Vera are on a divorce show, in the same room! They're playing with fire!!!】

【They have insane chemistry. They look so good together.】

【I've been saying for ages that Ashton and his wife had no feelings left. Who wants someone who just drags them down?】

【I've been waiting for them to get divorced for so long!】

【He must have been blind… he used to love her so much…】

The staff fitted Ashton and Vera with heart rate watches.

"Once your heart rate hits 70, you can leave the room."

【That's gonna be instant, right?】

But to everyone's surprise, both of their heart rates stalled at 68.

In private, he and Vera had done everything. They were too familiar with each other, so they were afraid of slipping up on camera. In front of the cameras, they put on an act.

【Vera is so polite. She doesn't even dare to get too close.】

【Ashton, don't hold back! We support you!】

Vera sat by the door.

Ashton stood on the balcony for some air, from where he could see a corner of my room.

Cole hadn't arrived yet.

I sat alone on the bed, wearing my own heart rate watch.

There was a knock on the door.

It was a tall, slender man. A baseball cap shadowed half his face, and his bangs were damp with the mist from the hot springs. A light rain was falling outside.

He smelled of the deep, misty night.

【My first love is back!!!】

【What can I say, Ashton? There's no harm without comparison.】

【No hate, please.】

"You need to put this on," I said, handing the other heart rate watch to Cole.

Ashton hated it when people said he looked like Cole. In the first year of our marriage, we were taking a late-night walk when I stopped, mesmerized by a giant luxury ad featuring Cole. Ashton had pulled my hat down over my eyes and said sourly, "I knew you liked that type."

Now, in the other room, Ashton, on his balcony, watched clearly.

He watched Cole enter the room and close the door behind him.

He watched him put on the watch.

Ashton wasn't worried. He had known since that night that Cole, the man he could never catch up to, the man he was sick with jealousy over, was in a contract marriage with Vera.

Cole didn't even like Vera.

So, of course, he wouldn't be interested in an ordinary, divorced woman like me, someone Ashton himself had cast aside.

Ashton scoffed, unconcerned.

But he watched my every reaction, missing nothing.

"Hello, Chloe," I said, my heart rate steady at 50, extending my hand to Cole. "I'm Chloe Taylor."

"Cole," he said, taking my hand.

A few seconds later, the watch emitted a shrill, piercing beep.

Cole's heart rate had skyrocketed.

But he himself was calmer than anyone.

"The watch is broken," he said.

"Oh," I replied.

3

After changing the watch, it worked normally.

Ashton and Vera played a few "chemistry games," and their heart rates surpassed 70, allowing them to leave the room early.

As for me and Cole, his heart rate remained stubbornly at 25.

Pathetically low.

"If it never goes up," I asked a staff member, "do we have to spend the night in the room?"

Cole overheard. He stood tall, shoulders broad in a thin black hoodie, his gaze distant and empty.

The staff member replied, "It counts as a failed mission. You can come out in an hour."

Cole and I were the last to leave.

【What a failure.】

【They have absolutely zero chemistry.】

【Get them out of here. Can we please not look at her? I just want to see Vera and Ashton.】

The comments were brutal, right up until the live stream ended.

The post-interview rooms were crowded with cameras, lights, and people.

Ashton stood in a corner, watching Vera's interview, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over to me.

"Excited?" he asked out of the blue. "Was there a moment when you thought Cole might actually be interested in you?"

I ignored him and tried to walk away, but he blocked my path.

"What am I going to do, Chloe?" he said, hands in his pockets, tilting his head to look at me. "I'm starting to think divorcing you was the best decision I ever made."

Someone passed by. Ashton straightened up, instantly transforming back into that gentle, soulful, yet heartbroken man.

As if I were the one who had hurt him the most.

After her interview, Vera walked over to me, under the watchful eyes of everyone, and took my hand.

"Chloe," she said, an old red string tied around her wrist. "You should cherish Ashton. He really loves you."

That red string.

I had seen it before.

Last year, on our wedding anniversary, Ashton had a minor car accident after being followed by obsessive fans. He was fine.

I took him to a temple to pray for his safety. I closed my eyes, my heart filled with prayers for him.

When I opened them, I saw him buying a red string.

I thought he was going to give it to me.

But he said he was getting it for himself, to put my mind at ease.

And now, it was on Vera's wrist.

"Stop being difficult," Vera continued, playing to the cameras. "More than anyone, I want you two to be happy."

I didn't say a word.

Ashton didn't know.

Vera didn't know.

The truth was, I had agreed to do this show for another, more hidden reason.

That day, when I closed my eyes to pray, Ashton wasn't the one on my mind either.

4

The show filmed on weekends, following a "weekend couple" concept.

During the week, I went back to my old profession, trying to get my job back as a talent manager at my former entertainment group.

"Cole and Vera are divorced," my old boss told me. "His ten-year contract with her father's company is finally up. He's setting up his own studio, and I recommended you to him."

I went to the address he gave me and found Cole at a photo studio. His profile was silhouetted against the light, his features sharp and untamed. It was a face made for the screen.

He was even harder to approach than I had imagined.

I waited outside for a long time.

Finally, his assistant came out. "I'm sorry, Ms. Taylor, we probably can't talk today."

On the way back, my car broke down.

Eleven o'clock at night, in the middle of nowhere, and it was raining.

I stood under my umbrella, waiting for a tow truck, watching the cars pass by like phantoms in the night.

None of them were for me.

Headlights flashed.

The window of a black minivan rolled down. Cole's assistant said to me, "Ms. Taylor, get in."

Cole was in the back seat, a baseball cap pulled low, asleep. His breathing was shallow, his long legs slightly bent. The space was a bit cramped for him.

The van was filled with clutter, and two suit jackets hung by the window.

The crisp scent of pine.

The same scent from the day he had held my hand.

"Ms. Taylor, I'm going to grab a drink from the gas station up ahead. Do you want anything?" the assistant asked quietly.

"Just call me Chloe. I'll go with you."

"No, no," he said, waving his hand as he got out. "I'll go. I'll be right back."

The door closed, leaving just me and Cole in the van.

No one else.

No cameras.

The headlights flickered, casting the interior in a dim glow. Though we were separated by a row of seats, his breathing sounded as close as if it were right next to my ear.

I stared out the window at the blue glow of the convenience store not far away, where the assistant was lingering by a shelf.

I remembered once, at a supermarket, seeing an ad for Vera.

"She's so beautiful," I had said to Ashton at the time.

His reaction was flat. "She's okay."

I didn't know that this "okay" would be the reason he stayed away from home, time and time again.

Later, I heard from others that Vera was his first love. They had broken up when he was still struggling to make it big.

He couldn't forget her.

But at that moment, in the supermarket, he had just deftly changed the subject, asking me, "Sweetheart, you never dated anyone before me?"

"No," I had said.

At least, that's what I told everyone, including him.

In the van, someone was kicking my leg.

A long leg extending from the back seat. Not accidentally.

But deliberately, mischievously, childishly, kicking me in a soft rhythm.

I moved my legs out of his reach.

I didn't say anything, didn't turn around.

I maintained my posture, as if nothing had happened.

"Chloe Taylor," he said, his voice husky from sleep, laced with a reckless, youthful charm. "Long time no see."

After all these years, why did he still like to say my name like that?

Just like in that small, humid, hot rental apartment…

Drowning again and again…

In his gentle yet unrestrained, invasive touch.

5

After that day, Cole and I had no contact.

Until the next weekend.

The show's live broadcast operated on a rotation system. This weekend, we were supposed to switch back to our original couples.

"Director," Vera said, her tone full of feigned consideration for the show. "Ashton and I are so popular right now. If you switch us back, the audience will be furious."

The director thought for a moment. "But—"

"Ashton," Vera turned to him. "What do you think?"

In front of me, she asked Ashton, "Who are you choosing tonight?"

She had been waiting for this moment. The more a thing has to be hidden, the more one craves for it to be chosen in public.

Ashton understood her. He deliberately glanced at my face, then leaned back in his chair.

"Is that even a question? The audience doesn't want to see her."

Vera got the answer she wanted and turned to me. "Chloe, you don't mind, do you? But you've been a housewife for so long, you probably don't have much work experience. The audience's approval is the most important thing. You should think about the big picture…"

"Fine," I said curtly.

Ashton looked up at me. They all thought I was going to make a scene. That way, they could edit my reaction into a special segment to highlight Vera's thoughtfulness.

They didn't expect me to be so agreeable.

Vera, with a speech she had memorized, was left with nothing to say. She finally managed a dry, "Good. No take-backs."

"Let's just keep it this way from now on," I said.

Her face stiffened for a second, then she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Are you trying to make Ashton jealous?" she whispered. "Everyone knows you're on this show to win him back. Too bad he's not jealous at all, and you have to watch him walk into my room."

The director's team called out. They decided to continue with last week's setup.

Before leaving, Ashton asked Vera, with a hint of amusement, "Aren't you afraid of her being in a room with Cole?"

At the mention of that name, Vera's reaction was a bit over the top. She laughed as if she'd heard the world's biggest joke.

"I've never seen him like anyone. Her? He could be locked in a room with her for a year and still not be interested."

They exchanged a knowing look and a smile. Ashton, in front of me, deliberately took off his coat and put it on Vera.

"Chloe, if you want to win me back, these tricks aren't good enough."

He wanted to provoke me, to make me break down in public so he could play the victim.

Ashton and Vera were taken to a luxury villa, a reward for being the couple with the highest heart rate last week. Vera posted a picture of their candlelit dinner on social media. The comments were all from ecstatic fans.

I saw all this on my phone in the production team's van.

The van was heading towards the old part of the city.

【If their heart rate doesn't go up today, they're going to be eliminated, right?】

【They won't eliminate Cole. His status is too high. They'll probably just switch his partner.】

【This is boring. Why did Cole even agree to do this show?】

【The weirder it gets, the more I ship it. I have a feeling something is going to happen.】

【The person above is nuts!!! If anything actually happens, I'll eat my own poop on a live stream!!!】

I put my phone away and asked the staff, "Where are Cole and I staying tonight?"

"Your heart rate was the lowest, so you have to face a penalty. Tonight, you'll be staying in…"

The van stopped. He tilted his chin towards the old residential building in front of me. "There," he said. "A rental apartment."

I got out of the van. Only one live camera, from inside the van, was filming me. It was far away, only capturing my back, and couldn't pick up any sound.

I stood at the door, my mind blank for a few seconds.

I took out my phone and called my ex-boss, who was also my long-suffering best friend.

"Cole said to me, 'Long time no see.'"

I desperately needed her to pour a bucket of cold water on me right now.

"So? What else could he say?" she replied, just as I expected. "Let's be real, who doesn't have an ex? He has so many options. Why would he choose you, a divorcee? Because of those few months you relied on each other? Honestly, that was the lowest point of his life. Who would want to remember that?"

She was right.

I hung up and opened the door.

Cole was on a stepladder, fixing the light on the ceiling. As he raised his arm, the muscles rippled smoothly.

Just like before.

Except back then, he had a bandage wrapped around his waist from a wire-work accident.

The old-fashioned tungsten light in his hand flickered on and off.

It was all too familiar.

So familiar that I stood at the door, unable to step inside.

"Dinner," he said, seeing me. A simple word, no extra emotion. It made my own unease seem out of place.

I was the one overthinking. For him, this show was probably just a safe way to publicize his divorce.

Outside, it was snowing. He was tall, with strong features, leaning over the counter preparing a hot pot. He exuded a sense of domesticity.

I took a picture of his back and posted it on social media, completing my task for the show.

After we ate, he didn't even let me do the dishes. He washed his hands efficiently and then, strangely, started making the bed for me.

There was only one bed.

He said he would sleep on the floor.

"Your waist injury," I asked, "do you need to change the bandage?"

"I can do it myself," he said.

When I came out of the bathroom after my shower, a thin blanket was already spread out on the floor. He was rummaging through his suitcase for a long bandage.

I instinctively looked away and took out my phone.

Ashton sent me a voice message. My hands were wet, and I accidentally played it on speaker.

He had seen my post.

"You can handle hot pot? Last time at home, you said you wanted that cake from the bakery. I got it for you on my way."

I had said I wanted that cake on my birthday last year. He never bought it for me. After all this time, he was only buying it now to maintain his "devoted" persona for the show.

I stared at my phone. The light above was blocked by Cole's shadow.

"Can you help me?" he asked, holding the roll of bandage.

Didn't he just say he could do it himself?

Changing the dressing, wrapping the bandage. My arms weren't long enough, so I had to loosely encircle him with both hands.

This rental apartment in the north.

The heating was inadequate. The snowy, rainy air seeped in through the cracks of the old building.

It was so cold.

Yet we maintained our distance.

My fingertips could only touch the bandage.

His face had to be turned away, looking elsewhere.

Unlike that year, in the southern rental apartment.

Muggy and sunless.

It was so hot.

Yet again and again, as if there were no tomorrow, we possessed each other with abandon.

Click.

The tungsten light flickered on. We were standing under it.

In that year of poverty and hopelessness, we couldn't even afford to replace a light bulb. We used it until it couldn't be used anymore.

That old tungsten light, repaired again and again, would always flicker in the middle of the night.

Back then, an eighteen-year-old Cole had told me, "Every time it flickers, it means I'm thinking of you."

Tonight, in an age where we lacked for nothing, the tungsten light flickered countless times.

I looked up at Cole. "You didn't fix it properly?"

He froze, then looked down into my eyes.

"Yeah. I did it on purpose."

"Why?" I asked.

"If I fixed it, you wouldn't hear it flicker."

I was stunned.

He took the bandage from my hand and deftly wrapped it around himself.

"Chloe Taylor," he said my name.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like hot pot, or do you like cake?"

One must always be honest about food.

"Hot pot."

6

【Okay, I'll eat my poop.】

【This awkward, deliberately avoidant vibe… something's not right.】

【Oh, Cole turned off the light.】

【Is there anything my premium VIP membership doesn't let me see???】

In reality, nothing happened.

Cole, wrapped in a thin blanket, slept on the floor. His breathing was extremely shallow.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Because the bed was too squeaky. Every time I turned over, it would creak.

I used to complain to him about it, too. But my complaints were always accompanied by a resigned sigh. "Cole, don't be so… hold back a little."

We were young and reckless back then.

Now, one turn.

Creek.

And I remembered.

And I wasn't the only one who remembered.

Cole threw off the blanket, wearing only a thin gray t-shirt, and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Flick.

In the deep, neon-lit night, a cigarette glowed in his hand.

When I first knew him, he didn't smoke. He was a good boy.

He wasn't smoking now either.

Just lighting it.

In the distance, headlights swept by.

Cole and Ashton, who had just gotten out of a car, came face to face.

"Delivering the cake," Ashton explained, craning his neck to peer through the window. He saw the separate blankets on the bed and the floor.

A knowing smile spread across his face.

"What can I say," Ashton said. "She's just too clingy."

Though they barely knew each other and the other man wasn't responding, Ashton felt an inexplicable need to assert his presence.

"She's been wanting this for a long time. She insisted I buy it. She won't eat it if anyone else gets it for her. Tomorrow, when she wakes up and sees it, she'll be moved to tears."

"Hey," Ashton raised his eyes. "You don't know, do you? I was her first love."

"Is that so?" the other man finally replied.

"Why would I lie?" Ashton said. "She's on this show to win me back."

The cake.

I didn't see it when I woke up the next day.

The live stream ended.

This time, for the post-interview special, all four of us were gathered together for the first time.

I was late, the last to arrive.

A staff member handed me an earpiece. My newly washed hair was too smooth, and I couldn't get it to stay on.

Across the room, Vera and Ashton were drawing question cards.

I lowered my head. The earpiece was about to fall off.

A hand from my left swiftly caught it.

"Thanks," I said, trying to take it from Cole.

But he didn't let go. Instead, he helped me put it on, adjusting it as he did.

It wasn't an overly intimate gesture. Just colleagues helping each other out. After all, the cameras were here, the crowd was here.

"It's caught," he said.

My hair and the earpiece.

He had to lean in closer.

From across the room, Ashton's voice came, his peripheral vision catching me and Cole.

It was a normal action.

If not for the fact that Cole, on instinct, kissed my hair.

The scent was too familiar. I rarely change the products I use; my shampoo has smelled the same for years.

The scent of his own washed hair.

The room suddenly fell silent.

Ashton shot to his feet.

Cole pulled his hand back and said to me, with extreme politeness and restraint, "Sorry, I accidentally brushed against it."

The producer, realizing what had happened, quickly saved the situation. "It happens. Let's move on to the next question."

After all, it was just a fleeting moment, a touch and then a retreat.

So fast that Ashton didn't even get a clear look.

It must have been an accident.

He sat back down.

The question game.

When it was my turn to draw a card, I got the "First Love" card.

The producer asked me, "Is your first love your greatest love?"

Ashton, who had been lounging lazily, sat up and looked at me. The eyes of everyone in the room darted between me and Ashton.

Everyone thought he was my first love.

"Yes," I said.

Hearing my answer, Ashton sat up straighter, unable to resist a smug glance at Cole. But the other man was distracted.

Cole was turned to the side, looking at the snow falling outside the window.

The window reflected my face.

"Same question," the producer said. "For Cole to answer."

He was in my group. The card questions were the same.

Vera was not his first love.

No one knew who that person was.

"She's annoying. She's really, really annoying."

Cole's voice was extremely soft. So soft that the end of his words carried a hint of unprecedented grievance.

Everyone in the room perked up, their ears open for gossip.

"Such resentment," the producer asked. "What did she do?"

"For example," he turned his head, drawing out his words, "marrying someone else, but saying that I was her greatest love."

It made no sense. No one in the room understood.

But Ashton still frowned unconsciously.

The producer flipped the last card.

"Chloe, what do you want to say to your first love right now?"

A hundred safe answers popped into my head.

But what came out was, "I hope he doesn't hate me too much."

It was a reasonable answer. Everyone in the room could understand it. They all thought I wanted to reconcile with Ashton.

Ashton's smugness returned. He raised an eyebrow, clearly intending to string me along, not giving me an easy way out.

Until, to the same question, Cole answered, "I was lying just now. I don't hate her."

That's when Ashton started to realize that something was not quite right.