STYL - 14

Shen Tang had never expected Jiang Chengyu to remember the day they met three years ago. His simple greeting of “Happy third anniversary” meant more to her than all the high-end gifts he had ever given her.

November 21st—a date that was both special and yet utterly ordinary.

The year they first met, winter had arrived earlier than usual, with temperatures already below freezing. Her acting career, much like the weather, had entered an early frost.

At that time, she had been in the industry for just over a year, with no recognition and not a single noteworthy project to her name. When her grandfather learned she had signed with a talent agency, he flew into a rage, firmly opposing her decision to stay in the entertainment world. Chen Nanjin’s wife also strongly disapproved.

Being in the entertainment industry meant appearing on screens everywhere, constantly reminding them of her existence. There was also the risk that her family background might be exposed. They feared that the secret they had worked so hard to conceal for over twenty years would come to light—and no one wanted to see her.

Everyone hoped she would stay abroad forever, never returning to disrupt their peaceful, happy lives.

But she had resolutely stayed in the industry, facing countless obstacles placed in her path behind the scenes. This journey had been extraordinarily difficult, and there were times when she couldn’t even hope to land a role.

Yet, people always find a way to survive against all odds.

When she was at her lowest point, she met Jiang Chengyu.

“Why aren’t you talking?” Jiang Chengyu asked when he heard silence on the other end of the line.

Snapped out of her thoughts, Shen Tang lit the candles. “I was just thinking about the first time I met you. That coat you gave me was incredibly warm.”

That night, she had worn an evening gown, and it had been freezing outside. He had taken off his coat and wrapped it around her.

“I’m going to light the candles now, but…” Shen Tang looked around. “I don’t have a lighter.”

Jiang Chengyu: “There are matches. Look carefully—the cake came with matches. I made sure to note that when ordering.”

Sure enough, there were matches tucked inside a small box alongside the cake knife. The matchbox was designed to look like a cartoon character, blending seamlessly into its surroundings unless examined closely. Even matchboxes were crafted with meticulous attention to detail these days.

Jiang Chengyu asked her, “Do you want to video call? I’ll celebrate with you.”

Without hesitation, Shen Tang replied in a playful tone, like a child throwing a tantrum: “Yes!”

Jiang Chengyu ended the call and immediately sent a video request.

The room lighting was too bright, and Shen Tang preferred the ambiance of dimness when lighting candles. She got up to turn off the lights. On his end, all Jiang Chengyu could see was the table and sofa—she was no longer in the frame. Suddenly, the screen went completely black.

“Shen Tang?”

“I’m here,” she laughed. “I can still see you.”

The light inside the car flickered as Jiang Chengyu turned on the overhead lamp after initiating the video call.

This was the first time Shen Tang had video-called Jiang Chengyu. Now, with him right in front of her through the screen, his gaze was deep but softened with warmth whenever he looked at her.

Last night, she had thought of him so intensely—why hadn’t she thought to video call him then? After the cast dinner ended, she had walked home while thinking of him every step of the way.

Jiang Chengyu waited two minutes, but the screen remained pitch black, with only a faint outline visible. He wasn’t even sure if it was her.

“Tangtang, stop fooling around. I can’t see anything. Turn the lights back on.”

Shen Tang paused as she reached for the matchbox. That single word—Tangtang —struck a chord deep within her. No matter how cold, hard, or indifferent a heart might be, there were moments when its vulnerability and softness were laid bare.

“No rush.” Her fingertips brushed against the matchbox, hesitating for a moment. “Jiang Chengyu, I miss you. Let me look at you for two more minutes.”

Jiang Chengyu had been resting his forehead on his hand during the call. When she said she missed him, he shifted his gaze slightly, as if glancing out the window before quickly returning his focus to the camera.

He teased, “Are you really missing me, or are you secretly eating the cake in the dark?”

Shen Tang: “….”

She burst out laughing.

“Is this what you think of me—an insatiable foodie?”

Jiang Chengyu: “Don’t you always sneak bites of food like you’re hiding from your manager? Don’t worry—I won’t report you.”

Shen Tang pushed open the matchbox and pulled out a matchstick.

With a hiss , the room lit up. The candles burned brightly, casting a warm golden glow that softened Shen Tang’s features.

Finally able to see her clearly, Jiang Chengyu watched as she knelt by the coffee table, scooping a bit of cream into her mouth.

He urged her, “Make a wish.”

“It’s not my birthday. What should I wish for?”

Shen Tang speared another piece of cake with her fork and held it up to the phone lens. “Pretend to take a bite from afar—it’s our third anniversary. You shouldn’t let me eat the cake alone.”

With that, she popped the cake into her own mouth.

The candle flames flickered, creating shifting shadows across the screen. Jiang Chengyu struggled to make out her expression.

“Turn the lights on.”

He suggested again.

“If you want to see me, there are plenty of photos and videos online. Whatever you want to see, it’s all there,” she countered.

“Is that the same thing?”

“What’s different about it?” Despite her words, Shen Tang complied and turned the room lights back on.

The brightness illuminated Jiang Chengyu’s phone screen. She wore pajamas, her face free of makeup.

More beautiful than when dressed up.

Shen Tang speared another piece of cake but resisted eating it, bringing it close to her nose instead. She had already consumed a few bites, and guilt was weighing heavily on her.

Suddenly, she looked up at the camera. “Do you ever read entertainment gossip about me?”

Jiang Chengyu answered honestly: “My phone pushes notifications daily. My homepage is filled with news about you.”

Shen Tang smiled. “So you must’ve searched for me.”

Jiang Chengyu didn’t deny it.

Before bed, searching for entertainment news about her had become an unconscious habit, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started.

Unbeknownst to them, nearly forty minutes had passed in their conversation.

A low battery alert interrupted Shen Tang. She located the charger and plugged it in. “You’re almost at the club, right?”

Jiang Chengyu glanced outside. The car had already turned into the club’s courtyard.

“Almost there,” he confirmed.

The driver parked, and the bodyguard stepped out to open the door for him.

Shen Tang flipped open her script. “Alright, I’ll hang up now. I need to memorize some lines and figure out how to portray sudden joy upon learning about pregnancy.”

Jiang Chengyu picked up his coat and exited the car. “What pregnancy?”

He walked calmly toward the entrance.

Standing on the steps outside was someone familiar—a mutual acquaintance from their circle. The doorman had already opened the door, but the person seemed to be waiting for someone.

Through the video, Shen Tang explained what pregnancy meant in the context of the drama: “The female lead finds out she’s pregnant.”

She flipped through the pages absentmindedly. “An hour before discovering her pregnancy, she’s still fighting fiercely with her rival…”

Before she could finish, a voice suddenly cut in from Jiang Chengyu’s side.

“Qinglu!” The man shouted impatiently, hands on his hips, cigarette in hand. “Tian Qinglu! Can you hurry up? Jiang Ge is already here, and the doorman’s wrist is probably sore from holding the door open!”

“Stop shouting!” Tian Qinglu snapped irritably, jogging over from behind.

Among those Jiang Chengyu had invited tonight was Tian Qinglu, related to the collaboration project with Chairman Xiao.

He told Shen Tang, “I’ve arrived at the club.”

Shen Tang understood what he meant—it was time to end the call.

“Go ahead and get busy,” she said, cutting the video connection.

The name Tian Qinglu left a deep impression on her. Back in Haitang Village, Tian Qinglu had messaged Jiang Chengyu asking if he would come.

________________________________________

The next day, Shen Tang struggled to get into character for the scene where her character learns she’s pregnant. After six takes, she still couldn’t find the right emotional state. Every time she tried to build up the necessary emotions, the name Tian Qinglu echoed persistently in her mind.

Huo Teng did his best to guide her into the scene, but his efforts fell short.

Meanwhile, Chu Ran couldn’t contain her glee. A smirk spread across her face, practically spelling out the words serves you right .

The director frowned, calling for a break and pulling Shen Tang aside. He assumed her inability to get into character stemmed from lingering resentment over yesterday’s fruit tea incident.

“You know Chu Ran comes from a powerful background. She’s the type who holds grudges and acts impulsively without thinking…” He swallowed the last part—without using her brain .

As a director, he shouldn’t gossip about actors behind their backs.

“Why do you insist on clashing with her head-on? Zhao Chiyi personally visited the set. Can’t you see the capital backing Chu Ran? Is it really worth being so emotional over something as trivial as a fruit tea?”

Shen Tang: “It has nothing to do with yesterday’s incident. I’m going to get some hot water.”

She questioned herself. Was the mere mention of Tian Qinglu enough to affect her work?

Was Jiang Chengyu worth her unease?

By the ninth take, she finally tapped into the right emotions. The restrained excitement and joy of discovering she was carrying a child shone vividly in her eyes.

Chu Ran’s lips twitched slightly, and she sneered.

That evening, the director treated the main cast to dinner, hoping to ease tensions between Shen Tang and Chu Ran. At the table, they put on a show of civility for his sake.

Privately, however, their animosity remained unchanged.

The conflict between Shen Tang and Chu Ran simmered quietly through November, only to erupt fully in mid-December.

This year’s Evergreen Group charity gala was held in Shanghai, with both Shen Tang and Chu Ran invited as guests. The production team granted them a two-day leave for the event.

Initiated by Zhao Chiyi, the charity gala marked its tenth anniversary, drawing a star-studded lineup comparable to major film festivals.

The day before the gala, snow fell unexpectedly in Shanghai.

The first snow of the season arrived so early that even the weather forecast was caught off guard.

Lijie, Shen Tang’s manager, flew to Shanghai for this event to meet up with her.

Shen Tang was staying at Jiang Chengyu’s apartment. In the evening, Lijie arrived to pick her up.

“Looks like you slept well last night—your skin looks great,” Lijie observed through the mirror.

Shen Tang was getting ready, having changed into a couture dress from a brand’s upcoming spring collection. The outfit exuded an ethereal charm.

From the same collection, Lijie had borrowed a similar dress from the brand, though the one Shen Tang wore was hers—a lavish gift from Jiang Chengyu.

Not just anyone could purchase this brand’s haute couture.

“Bring the dress I borrowed as well. After the red carpet, you can change into it.”

For events like this, the more outfits, the better.

Shen Tang nodded. “Alright.”

Lijie found a suitcase, and together with the assistant, they packed the second dress along with matching jewelry and heels.

The assistant took the suitcase to the car first, while Lijie crossed her arms and leaned against the vanity. “You haven’t seen Jiang Chengyu since starting the shoot, right?”

“No.”

“You should pay more attention. A man like him—there’s no telling how many women are eyeing him.”

As a manager, she rarely interfered in her artists’ personal lives. However, Jiang Chengyu was different—he could shield Shen Tang’s career from storms, making him a valuable benefactor in many ways.

“You don’t reach out to him often either. That won’t do. Good men are rare finds. If you capture his heart and marry him…”

“He wouldn’t marry me even if he decided to settle down.”

Shen Tang cut her off, clearly unwilling to discuss Jiang Chengyu’s marriage any further.

The stylist stole a glance at Shen Tang through the mirror. Living life with such clarity—was it a blessing or a curse?

Lijie snapped out of her reverie. Of course—marriages in families like Jiang Chengyu’s were never about love.

She switched topics to That Early Summer . “It’s been over a month since your audition, and there’s been no news. Zhou Mingqian hasn’t contacted you, right?”

Shen Tang: “No.”

The final decision rested not with Zhou Mingqian but with Chen Nanjin.

________________________________________

Today was the coldest day of the winter so far, coinciding with the charity gala.

The snow stopped early in the morning, leaving half-melted layers on bushes and grass. By afternoon, however, it began falling again in earnest.

The charity gala was hosted at Evergreen Hotel, part of the Evergreen Group, located in the bustling CBD. With the snowstorm, the road leading to the hotel was gridlocked.

Lijie instructed the driver to take the rear entrance. “We’ll go in through the back. It should be less crowded.”

The rear entrance and open-air parking lot of Evergreen Hotel were not open to the public, and there was a private elevator reserved for senior management.

Few people knew about this route.

As expected, the rear parking lot was uncrowded and devoid of media, offering a serene atmosphere.

However, the security guard politely informed them that their vehicle didn’t belong to the Evergreen Group, so he couldn’t grant them access.

Chu Ran’s car had just pulled into the parking lot.

Not only Chu Ran, but several top-tier artists under Evergreen Entertainment’s management also began arriving in their respective vehicles.

Shen Tang told Lijie, “Find somewhere else to park. I’ll walk in through the back entrance.”

Lijie received a phone call and stayed seated for a moment.

The assistant grabbed an umbrella, exiting the car first to open it.

As Shen Tang stepped out of the van, her teeth chattered uncontrollably. The biting wind pierced through her pores, slicing across her skin like icy shards. Snowflakes stung her face, their cold needles pricking her cheeks subtly yet sharply.

Shen Tang pulled her coat tighter around her. Perhaps it was psychological, but the coat felt far from warm. The men’s coat Jiang Chengyu had given her on the day they met had been so cozy—its warmth lingered in her memory.

Maybe it was because it carried his body heat.

To enter the hotel, they had to cross the parking lot.

A thick layer of snow covered the ground, melting and refreezing under the wheels of cars, making the surface slippery.

The assistant held the umbrella with one hand and steadied Shen Tang with the other.

Without media or fans around, the bodyguard followed behind, carrying the suitcase containing her second outfit.

Several familiar artists from other vans greeted Shen Tang with polite nods.

One actress walking ahead turned to speak to her. “Fairy Tangtang, shall we walk the red carpet together later?”

This was the actress who had sat beside her at the TV station’s investor meeting and helped check her makeup.

The actress continued, “I’m afraid of the cold, so I wore a suit today—it matches perfectly with your fairy-like dress. Your spring couture is breathtaking. I’ll soak up some of your fairy vibes.”

Shen Tang liked this actress. “Sure. Wait for me at the red carpet entrance.”

Behind Shen Tang, Chu Ran shot a few disdainful glances at her dress.

She had her eye on this collection too, but the brand claimed it had already been borrowed by Shen Tang’s manager.

Shen Tang was deliberately trying to outdo her—even competing over dresses.

Exiting the parking lot, they encountered a steep slope.

“Tangtang, be careful,” the assistant tightened her grip, supporting Shen Tang’s arm.

Shen Tang laughed. “You’re hurting me. Why are you more nervous than I am?”

“The ground is slippery. I’m just worried—ah! Tangtang!”

Suddenly, someone shoved Shen Tang from behind, sending her sliding down the slope and colliding with the entourage of the actress ahead.

The assistant dropped the umbrella, reaching out to pull Shen Tang back—but it was too late.

In that instant, Shen Tang reflexively grabbed for someone nearby, her feet slipping as she spun 180 degrees.

The accompanying staff member turned, attempting to catch her, but missed.

With a loud thud , Shen Tang landed hard on her backside, the cold seeping through her bones.

The assistant panicked, tears welling up. “Tangtang, are you hurt?” She helped Shen Tang to her feet.

“Teacher Shen, are you alright?”

“Did you hurt anywhere?”

Regardless of sincerity, others gathered around to express concern.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Shen Tang responded calmly.

Her bodyguard rushed over, assuming she had simply slipped accidentally. After all, the earlier conversation between Shen Tang and her assistant had been clearly audible in the empty parking lot, heard by everyone present.

The assistant’s forehead was slick with sweat. Falling in front of other celebrities, especially with Chu Ran watching, was embarrassing. Worst of all, the haute couture dress was now stained.

“Tangtang, where does it hurt?” The assistant wiped away her tears.

“Why are you crying? I’m fine.” Shen Tang shrugged off the assistant and bodyguard, kicking off her high heels. Her icy glare locked onto Chu Ran.