The night passed, and the next day, only Li Mengjiao showed up at the filming set full of energy. Wen Ying, Xie Qian, and Wang Shuang had all slept poorly.
Still, Wen Ying and Wang Shuang dragged themselves to the set one after the other, with Wang Shuang yawning nonstop.
Wang Shuang wanted to ask Li Mengjiao what brand of perfume she used. As he mumbled to himself, Wen Ying overheard and scoffed, “Mengjiao doesn’t use perfume. You’ve known her forever and don’t even know that?”
“It was so fragrant…”
Not perfume?
Wang Shuang’s eyes were full of confusion.
Wen Ying wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. She’d mentally rehearsed how to naturally return Xie Qian’s jacket, but he never showed up.
Her frequent glances around betrayed her restlessness, noticed by others.
The director, concerned, said, “Xiao Wen, don’t rush the script revisions. Take your time. Quality matters more than quantity. Look after yourself! Our line of work often means late nights, but you’re so young—don’t push yourself too hard!”
The girl was truly talented.
But there was no need to pull all-nighters. Seeing the faint dark circles under her eyes, the director felt a pang of guilt.
More importantly, Wen Ying was a growing talent. As she gained experience, she’d create even more brilliant and profound scripts. Rushing her now could turn joyful creation into pain, risking the quality of her work.
“Director, I understand. I didn’t… I won’t stay up late anymore,” Wen Ying said, her face flushing.
Stay up for scripts? She’d tossed and turned half the night, barely sleeping, her mind filled with Xie Qian—not a single thought about scripts.
Xie Qian didn’t come to the set today. Wen Ying’s prepared speech went unused, leaving her both disappointed and relieved.
Facing him would’ve been awkward.
Not seeing him gave her some breathing room.
She understood the logic, but couldn’t help looking around for him.
What was Xie Qian up to today?
Was he really not coming to the set?
He used to come every day.
Was last night’s incident making him feel awkward too?
Pfft, as if! Her idol wasn’t as pathetic as her!
Unlike her, who’d idolized Xie Qian since her past life, he saw her without any filter—just a slacker needing prodding. Last night, she’d clearly overthought things, letting stray thoughts creep in!
Wen Ying harshly judged herself.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was Wu Chunqin.
“Aunt Wu, you’re asking when I’m going back to Chengdu? Probably a few more days.”
“…Dinner tonight?!”
Wu Chunqin was so hospitable.
She’d treated Wen Ying to dinner last night and was inviting her again today.
This time, it wasn’t just Wen Ying—she was to bring Xie Qian, Li Mengjiao, and Wang Shuang to her home, not a restaurant.
If they could arrive early, they could visit the university where Professor Shen taught.
Wu Chunqin had made money in business and could afford multiple properties in Shanghai, but she and her family still lived in the university’s faculty housing.
As she put it, why would she move out? The faculty housing offered an unmatched environment—neighbors teaching Shen Huan chess, painting, or calligraphy after dinner. Once, a neighbor even had preschool-aged Shen Huan recite pi! Most of their neighbors were university professors, active or retired, a true hub of talent.
Where else could Shen Huan get such a learning atmosphere?
It wasn’t about house size or price. For Wu Chunqin and her husband, no mansion could replace that cultural environment.
Wen Ying recalled that, even a decade later, Wu Chunqin’s family still lived there. She’d been invited to their home multiple times and knew the directions well but played along as Wu Chunqin explained again.
“Aunt Wu, I’ll need to check if Xie Qian and the others are free. Especially Mengjiao—she’s filming, and we don’t know when she’ll wrap today.”
Wu Chunqin laughed over the phone. “No worries. If Li can’t make it, I’ll invite her another day. But you three must come. I’ve already planned the menu.”
Wen Ying sensed a mischievous undertone in Wu Chunqin’s laugh.
How could she think that of Aunt Wu?
Still, this invitation was a perfect chance to break the awkwardness with Xie Qian.
After hanging up, Wen Ying texted Xie Qian.
“Where are you?”
Oops, that tone felt off.
You couldn’t unsend texts, so she quickly added:
“Aunt Wu invited us to her place for dinner tonight, with Wang Shuang and Mengjiao. Are you going?”
There, that tone was better!
…
Xie Qian’s phone buzzed.
A glance showed it was Hamster asking where he was.
Normally, he wouldn’t think twice, but after last night, the first word that popped into his head was “checking up.”
He immediately squashed the thought.
What nonsense! If he showed even a hint of something different, how could he face Hamster later?
Her brain was barely big enough for studying and writing—any more, and it’d overload.
Xie Qian had spent half the night concluding that wanting to hold her hand was a lapse in judgment. He skipped the set today to cool off.
“Boss?”
Gong Sheng whispered a reminder.
Xie Qian, distracted mid-conversation, clearly hadn’t slept well.
Even the most handsome guy lost points with dark circles.
Of course, for Xie Qian, going from 100 to 99 in looks made little difference. Female clients couldn’t stop staring—such a pleasing sight lifted anyone’s mood, regardless of age.
It wasn’t Xie Qian’s first time meeting clients with Gong Sheng. The logistics company knew he was the young boss, but clients assumed he was Gong Sheng’s nephew, tagging along to gain experience.
Gong Sheng wanted to clarify, but Xie Qian stopped him.
Clients trusted dealing with Gong Sheng over a kid like him.
Some clients teased him, offering to set him up with a girlfriend, but Xie Qian brushed it off with a smile.
As a minor, he could ignore what he didn’t want to hear or play dumb—no one could fault him.
When Gong Sheng noticed Xie Qian’s distraction, Wen Ying’s second text arrived.
Aunt Wu’s dinner?
Xie Qian wasn’t sure he could make it.
Texting back felt a bit cold.
After cooling off all day, he decided to call Hamster back outside.
“I’ll step out for a bit.”
Xie Qian left the table, phone in hand, but before he could call Wen Ying, another call came in.
It was Xie Tang.
“Tang-jie, what’s up?”
Xie Tang’s voice sounded adrift, unmoored. “…Yu Chuan just broke up with me.”
