Chapter 63—The Aspect of Rebirth

A few minutes later, the police arrived. Mu Ran briefly explained the situation to them, and the man was taken away.

“Mu Ran, I’m sorry,” the man said.

Ignoring his remorse, Mu Ran locked the villa’s courtyard, entered the house with languid ease, her whole demeanor calm and unruffled, nothing like someone who’d just been harassed by a rabid fan.

“Mu Ran! Mu Ran! Open the door, are you all right?” An Lan’s urgent voice rang out as she banged on the gate.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Mu Ran replied, shaking her head in resignation as she went to open the door.

“Mu Ran, are you really okay? I just saw on Weibo that you were stalked by a crazy fan!” As the gate swung open, An Lan threw herself at Mu Ran, gripping her arms tightly, her anxious eyes scanning Mu Ran from head to toe.

“It’s nothing. That fan is just a pitiful soul—he said he has cerebellar atrophy. Don’t worry about it.” Mu Ran gently pried An Lan’s hands away, her smile light and unconcerned. “Don’t worry. See? I’m perfectly fine!”

“What? Nonsense, Mu Ran! Your face is hurt!” An Lan reached out to touch the wound at the end of Mu Ran’s eyebrow, scolding her through gritted teeth, “Look! For a female celebrity, your face is everything, and it’s ruined! Where’s that lunatic? I’ll go deal with him myself!”

“Calm down, Lan Lan. It’s just a scratch. Fame always brings trouble!” Mu Ran led An Lan inside the villa, her serenity unshaken.

An Lan, unimpressed, retorted coldly, “Fame? You call this fame? It’s just bad luck! Ning Yi, right? I’ll find out who this Ning Yi is!”

An Lan’s anger seemed to gather into a blazing fire, even Mu Ran felt intimidated and kept her distance.

“Qin Yu, I want you to investigate Ning Yi immediately!” An Lan stood in the living room, one hand on her hip, her sharp gaze flickering toward the unruffled Mu Ran. She shouted into her phone at Qin Yu, the second son of the Qin family.

Qin Yu, caught in the middle of a meeting, was at a loss. Who was this Ning Yi, and how had he managed to provoke An Lan?

“Lan Lan, don’t worry. I’ll send someone to investigate Ning Yi right away. Please calm down,” Qin Yu replied.

Inside the Qin Corporation’s conference room, everyone stared in shock at their boss, who had suddenly lowered his voice. No one dared to make a sound.

Qin Yu hung up and signaled for the meeting to continue.

“President Qin,” called a chubby, slick-haired man, interrupting the executive’s report with an ingratiating smile.

“President Ning? Is something the matter?” Qin Yu’s face was impassive, his cold gaze narrowed. His slender fingers tapped the table as he frowned at the middle-aged man who stood.

This was the CEO of a venerable old business in the capital, whose company specialized in pastries and the hotel industry. Recently, the Ning family’s business had been struggling, and President Ning Kai was desperate to collaborate with the Qin Corporation to turn things around.

“President Qin, the Ning Yi you mentioned is my son.”

Qin Yu raised his brows—how convenient, the answer delivered right to him. “Oh?”

At Biting Garden—

“Mu Ran, let’s go to the hospital to check your wound. It looks like it might leave a scar.” An Lan gently dabbed Mu Ran’s eyebrow with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab. The wound had already scabbed, about half a centimeter long, and might indeed leave a mark.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Mu Ran tentatively touched her wound, feeling a dull ache and silently fretting—would it really leave a scar?

An Lan bit her lip, ignoring Mu Ran’s stubbornness, and dragged her toward the door. “No, you don’t understand. If there’s even the slightest flaw on your face, you’ll regret it!”

“Oh, you care more about my face than I do.”

The two stood in the villa’s courtyard. An Lan was momentarily taken aback by Mu Ran’s teasing, then turned to reply seriously, “It’s not just about your face. I don’t want anything to happen to you, otherwise I won’t be able to answer to—”

“To whom?” Mu Ran asked, grabbing An Lan’s hand. “Is it Gu Beicheng?”

An Lan nodded fiercely, scolding Mu Ran’s radiant expression, “Stop dawdling, let’s go to the hospital.”

An hour later, Mu Ran and An Lan emerged from the hospital, both looking dejected.

“I told you! You should have come to the hospital right away. Now look, it’s scarred! No amount of concealer will cover it when you put on makeup!” An Lan shook off Mu Ran’s hand and stormed toward the parking lot.

“Lan Lan, don’t be angry. The doctor only said it might scar, not that it definitely would,” Mu Ran said, clinging to hope.

An Lan doubled back, rummaged in her bag for a small mirror, and shoved it in Mu Ran’s face, her cheeks flushed with frustration. “See for yourself! It’s already a scar! Stop fooling yourself!”

Mu Ran took the mirror and stared at her reflection, lost in thought. Life was so unpredictable.

“Brother Gu, I can’t handle Mu Ran anymore. She’s stubborn and bold—when she encountered a crazy fan, instead of calling the police, she fought him! And now her face is hurt! Truly, life is full of surprises, sausage wrapped in sausage!”

“Lan Lan, what are you doing?” Mu Ran reached out to snatch An Lan’s phone. That wretched Lan Lan—she’d learned to complain!

“Go ahead, complain all you want. Gu Beicheng can’t do anything to me.” Seeing she couldn’t win, Mu Ran gave up and let An Lan say whatever she pleased. Gu Beicheng wasn’t her boyfriend, he had no say over her!

An Lan murmured a few words to Gu Beicheng about Ning Yi, then hung up and prepared to lecture Mu Ran again, warning her to run at the first sign of trouble, not confront it head-on.

But Mu Ran had vanished.

“Mu Ran!”

“Lan Lan, I’ve got a solution!” Mu Ran suddenly appeared before An Lan, her eyes bright with hope. She dragged An Lan into a tattoo studio.

“Why are you bringing me here?” An Lan stood at the entrance, reluctant to go in. She hugged herself, her face drawn with anxiety, shaking her head at Mu Ran. “I’m not getting a tattoo, it hurts too much, I’m scared!”

The tattoo studio was sizeable. As soon as they entered, two bald men approached.

An Lan’s pupils shrank, her forehead slick with sweat. She hunched her neck, dodging their gaze and hiding behind Mu Ran.

One of the men, with a green dragon tattooed across half his head, smiled gently and joked to the other, “Look at you, you’ve scared the young lady! Go put your shirt on—don’t come out half-naked, looking like a thug!”

“Don’t be afraid, little sister. We’re law-abiding citizens, running a legitimate business,” the bald man said, bare-chested with only a small apron, turning to reveal a back full of tattoos.

“Go put your shirt on, no dawdling!” The green dragon fellow, with delicate features, was less rough than his companion.

“Are both young ladies getting tattoos?” He noticed An Lan trembling as she stared at his head, understanding her fear. He raised his hand to cover his scalp. “See, now you don’t have to look.”

An Lan: “……”

Mu Ran: “……”

“I want one, brother. Look, I have a scar here, and I’d like to cover it.” Mu Ran pointed to the obvious scar at the end of her eyebrow. If she didn’t find a way to conceal it, filming would be difficult.

“Mu Ran, you want a tattoo?” An Lan was stunned, trying to drag Mu Ran away.

But Mu Ran had made up her mind to cover the scar.

The tattoo artist lowered his head to examine the scar, frowning, one hand covering his scalp and the other rubbing his chin, looking comically thoughtful.

“Is it impossible?” Mu Ran asked.

He shook his head. “It’s possible. What’s your profession?”

“Actress.”

“Ah, that’s fine. The entertainment industry doesn’t restrict tattoos—lots of celebrities and couples get theirs done here.”

Mu Ran nodded. “That’s good, as long as it’s possible.”

“Come with me, let’s go to a private room. Actually, you could have the scar removed with a machine—we offer that service, too. Would you like to try it, or stick with the tattoo?”

He instructed the assistant to take care of An Lan and led Mu Ran to a private room.

“A tattoo.”

“You’re certainly unique. Sit down, I’ll take a look at your face.” Mu Ran edged back, wary.

He laughed heartily. “Don’t be nervous, I want to design a pattern for you. What do you take me for?”

Mu Ran smiled faintly.

“I can read faces, you know. Yours speaks of rebirth.” The bald tattooist stared at Mu Ran’s face and blurted it out.

Mu Ran instantly stiffened, her guard rising. She stood, ready to leave. How had he guessed she’d been reborn?

“Hey, just joking! Fortune-telling, that’s all. Believe it or not, it’s up to you. When I say rebirth, I mean your career will come back from the brink, though you’ll have plenty of rotten romances. All your little setbacks will be because of men.”

He pursed his lips, his expression full of meaning, ready to elaborate.

“Rotten relationships! They can be broken. Let’s tattoo a peach blossom at the end of your eyebrow. When those rotten suitors see a peach blossom there, they’ll stay away.”

Mu Ran’s expression showed she didn’t believe a word. “Any other options?”

He thought for a moment, went to the bookshelf, fetched a catalog, and handed it to Mu Ran. “Plenty of choices, take a look and see what you like.”

Mu Ran flipped through the catalog. The designs were exquisite, but the sizes were either too large or too small.

“How about a little butterfly?” he suggested.

“A butterfly is nice, but according to face reading, butterflies attract unwanted attention. It’s bad luck for both your career and romance.”