Oh my!
Wu Chunqin exclaimed inwardly.
So this was Wen Ying’s “early love interest”? Why would Chen Ru object to such a boy?
Good looks, whether in boys or girls, were a rare commodity.
A boy like Xie Qian, practically a heartthrob, shouldn’t be missed while still in school. Should she wait until a handsome, clean-cut boy like him was tainted by the ways of the world, picking up a greasy air before making a move?
As for whether they might break up…
Pfft, adults get divorced after marriage. It’s just a relationship, no need to take it so seriously.
Wu Chunqin briefly wondered if Xie Qian was all looks and no substance, but she quickly dismissed the thought.
Xie Qian had an excellent presence.
The two people with him clearly respected him.
This was a boy who was not only good-looking but also carried himself with poise. Striking looks could give young people confidence, but that kind was often shallow and showy. Xie Qian’s confidence, however, came from within.
He wasn’t flashy because he didn’t need to be. Someone with real substance didn’t rely on appearances to stand out.
This boy was truly impressive!
More importantly, Wen Ying’s joy and nervousness, and the undercurrent of feelings beneath Xie Qian’s cool exterior… they might as well have had “I like you” written on their faces. Wu Chunqin figured they were at that stage where they both had feelings but hadn’t yet broken through the final barrier.
The more Wu Chunqin observed, the more pleased she was. If Wen Ying were her daughter, not only would she not stop their early romance, she’d happily fund it. A pure love in youth was such a beautiful thing. Dating an outstanding boy like Xie Qian, even if they didn’t go from school uniforms to wedding dresses, would raise Wen Ying’s standards. She wouldn’t be easily fooled by unreliable men in the future.
“No need to order separately. You’re all Wen Ying’s classmates, so join our table. I’ll have the waiter bring a few more dishes. Sound good?” Wu Chunqin invited warmly.
Xie Qian glanced at Wen Ying. Her face was pale, and he couldn’t quite read her thoughts.
Did she not want to eat together?
If so, there was no need to force it… Xie Qian felt a bit stifled and was about to politely decline when Li Mengjiao plopped down at the table.
“Wen Ying always says how nice you are, Aunt Wu. Can I call you Aunt Wu too?”
With such thick skin, calling her Aunt Wu was nothing—she could call her Mum Wu for all it mattered!
Wu Chunqin laughed at Li Mengjiao’s flattery. Wang Shuang quickly followed suit, calling her Aunt Wu as well. Xie Qian, caught between these two underachievers, could only nod in agreement.
“Then we won’t stand on ceremony.”
When sitting, Xie Qian was a step behind, ending up with Li Mengjiao between him and Wen Ying.
Wen Ying steadied herself and quickly made formal introductions.
Professor Shen had a sharp eye and was clearly more interested in Xie Qian, while Li Mengjiao won Wu Chunqin’s affection.
Wang Shuang and Shen Huan stared at each other. What was with this kid, looking like he was itching to talk to Li Mengjiao?
From the moment Shen Huan recognised Li Mengjiao, his eyes lit up.
“Little Meng!”
Wu Chunqin shot her son a look. “Don’t be rude. Call her Sister Mengjiao.”
Shen Huan nodded vigorously.
“Hello, Sister Mengjiao.”
Shen Huan’s mind was buzzing. He was actually eating with “Little Meng,” Li Mengjiao’s character from *The Princess’s New Clothes*.
Talent shows weren’t for primary school kids, but holiday dramas were. Many thought kids only watched cartoons, but since *Princess Huanzhu* aired, primary schoolers had boosted ratings. They’d go wild for “Little Swallow” and were a huge market for drama merchandise.
*The Princess’s New Clothes* had gone from a hit with middle schoolers to primary schoolers. With no mushy romance, parents didn’t mind their kids watching.
Shen Huan didn’t care about Wen Ying, the bestselling author, despite his parents often praising her at home. It never sparked his interest.
Li Mengjiao was different.
She was a big star!
The “Little Meng” from *The Princess’s New Clothes*!
If his classmates knew he was dining with her, they’d be insanely jealous.
Shen Huan insisted on sitting next to Li Mengjiao. Xie Qian stood and swapped seats with him, ending up between Wen Ying and Professor Shen.
Once reseated, before the food arrived, Professor Shen chatted briefly with Xie Qian.
Xie Qian wasn’t one to boast endlessly about his intelligence, but every word from a smart person carried weight.
Professor Shen’s first impression of Xie Qian was excellent.
Wu Chunqin, mindful of Wen Ying’s sensitivity, avoided teasing and treated Xie Qian’s group naturally, encouraging them to eat.
When not talking to Professor Shen, Xie Qian could observe Wen Ying closely.
Her face was still pale, with a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead.
Was the restaurant too warm?
Not likely.
She occasionally rubbed her stomach, looking restless.
Xie Qian calmed down, realising Wen Ying didn’t seem guilty but rather unwell.
When the waiter brought the dishes, Xie Qian specifically ordered a bowl of soup.
Winter called for hot soup.
Sure enough, after drinking it, Wen Ying seemed to regain some energy. Xie Qian had his suspicions but didn’t show it. Wu Chunqin was curious about filming and spent the evening asking about progress. Li Mengjiao, ever Wen Ying’s cheerleader, gushed about her script revisions, practically putting her on a pedestal.
“Most screenwriters aren’t as dedicated as Wen Ying. I overheard the director call Teacher Yuan, praising her, saying every revision shows improvement!”
Her flattery came naturally.
There were plenty of dedicated screenwriters—Zhang Guangzhen, for one.
But creation required not just dedication but talent. Wen Ying thought her talent was average, relying on diligence and a mature mindset. She believed she was only better than her peers, unaware of how exceptional others found her.
Wen Ying misunderstood one thing: creative talent didn’t grow with age.
Why were few writers literature majors?
Literature departments didn’t produce writers.
If a writer studied literature, it was because they chose it, not because it made them a creator.
Wen Ying’s writing talent surpassed ordinary people. Her perception of life, her perspectives, her logic, and her creative approach were unique.
Xie Qian actually agreed with Li Mengjiao.
She was flattering, but it wasn’t just flattery—it was how many around Wen Ying truly felt.
But Hamster was sometimes sharp, sometimes oblivious.
Wu Chunqin loved hearing this.
Her parenting philosophy was never about tough love. Why not praise a girl like Wen Ying who deserved it?
Wu Chunqin asked Li Mengjiao if she wanted to study in Shanghai. Li Mengjiao blurted out, “That depends on Wen Ying. Wherever she goes, I go. We’re best friends!”
Teenage love was beautiful, but so was friendship. Wu Chunqin smiled warmly.
“That’s perfect. Wen Ying wants to come to Shanghai, and Shanghai has a great drama academy.”
The Shanghai Theatre Academy, or Hu Xi, was a top-tier institution, alongside Beijing’s Central Academy of Drama.
Li Mengjiao had considered Beijing for its drama and film schools, and Qin Jiao.
But now, she leaned toward Shanghai without hesitation.
Even if Shanghai only had Hu Xi.
If Wu Chunqin said Wen Ying was going to Shanghai, Li Mengjiao had to follow.
Wen Ying had encouraged her to join the talent show.
Her screen fame came from Wen Ying’s script revisions for *The Princess’s New Clothes*.
Now she was acting in Wen Ying’s original script.
Yuan Fenghui was a great agent and guide, taking care of everything for Li Mengjiao. But for absolute trust, Li Mengjiao only relied on Wen Ying. Wherever Wen Ying was, Li Mengjiao wanted to be—it felt safe.
Wang Shuang scratched his head.
Everyone’s going to Shanghai?
Then he’d start looking at Shanghai universities too.
His friends were all high achievers; he couldn’t pick a subpar school.
The meal lasted over an hour longer than expected, a truly joyful gathering.
Professor Shen paid, and they parted at the restaurant’s entrance. Since it was close to the hotel, Wen Ying’s group could walk back.
On the restaurant steps, Wen Ying waved goodbye to Wu Chunqin’s family.
She was no longer unwell, just full and sleepy, eager to return to the hotel and rest.
Xie Qian’s sharp eyes noticed a small stain on Wen Ying’s trousers. She was completely unaware, so carefree!
His earlier suspicions were confirmed.
Xie Qian stiffened.
No textbook or extracurricular book taught a top student how to handle this situation. But at the critical moment, a classic movie trope came in handy. Xie Qian draped his jacket over Wen Ying.
The gesture shocked Wen Ying, and Li Mengjiao and Wang Shuang were equally stunned!
