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The anxious beautician, still torn over whether to inform the manager, shakily brought over the half glass of orange juice—left unfinished by someone, she couldn't tell whom. "Give it to her," Fan Tingting nodded toward Zhang Momo.

"You pour this glass of orange juice over your own head, then jump from the entrance archway of this salon, and I'll pretend nothing ever happened between us," Fan Tingting declared, her face alight with anticipation as she watched Zhang Momo, who felt as if a cockroach had crawled into her heart, leaving her nauseated beyond words.

"Hey, something's happening in the lobby—a woman is forcing another to jump off the building..." As Xiang Zuo stepped into the salon, these words caught his ear, prompting him to rush toward the commotion, his feet moving almost of their own accord, without stopping to wonder why.

By now, Zhang Momo and Fan Tingting were surrounded from a distance. In a gathering of women, there was never a shortage of eager onlookers, hungry for gossip. The crowd buzzed with murmurs—some indignant, others awkwardly pursing their lips—but regardless of their stance, all shared the same urgent desire: to witness the outcome of this unfolding drama.

"If I do this, you promise your mother won't trouble him or his company again, right?" Zhang Momo asked.

"That's right!" Fan Tingting scanned the crowd, her face bright with anticipation. No sooner had she spoken, before she could savor the thrill of the spectacle, Zhang Momo lifted the entire glass above her head and, without hesitation, poured the juice—pulp and all—down over herself. It ran in rivulets from her face to her chest.

Fan Tingting, for reasons unknown even to herself, felt an urge to stamp her feet in frustration. Zhang Momo had done it too cleanly, too quickly, with an expression so calm and indifferent that every aspect seemed to offend her. She barely had time to vent her annoyance before Zhang Momo wiped her face with a hand and lifted her chin. "Now for the jump. Let's go."

With that, she reached to pull Fan Tingting along. At that moment, Fan Tingting felt increasingly uncomfortable—almost as if she were the one who ought to feel embarrassed and troubled. Pulled so abruptly, she nearly collided with the back of Zhang Momo's head when the latter stopped suddenly.

"What are you doing?" Xiang Zuo struggled to push his way through the crowd of women, finally making it to the center. He gazed at Zhang Momo's disheveled face, streaked with juice and pulp, and a nameless fury rose within him, burning hot and wild.