Psst! We're moving!
It wasn’t until a few days before the Spring Festival that Sister Li finally felt reassured enough to return to Beijing.
During this period, both Shen Tang and Chu Ran had managed to keep their distance. Even though they disliked each other, neither had directly confronted the other.
The director was explaining a scene to Shen Tang while Chu Ran sat nearby resting. Whenever she had a moment to spare, she would scroll through Zhao Chi Yi’s Weibo. An hour earlier, he had liked a post promoting an urban romance drama that premiered two days ago.
The lead actress of the show was none other than Shen Tang.
The drama had been promoted during a TV station’s investor event last October, and here it was already January, with the broadcast schedule locked in.
For the past few days, the show had dominated trending topics on social media. In the series, Shen Tang played a female lead whose personality was the polar opposite of her real-life demeanor—bright, playful, giggly, mischievous, and fond of acting cute.
Marketing accounts initially prepared all sorts of slanderous posts about her, assuming that someone as aloof as Shen Tang would be awkward and unnatural in portraying such an adorable character.
But when the first episode aired that night, reality slapped them in the face.
The scene where the female lead playfully coaxed her boyfriend into kissing her melted countless hearts—not just men’s, but even Chu Ran herself couldn’t help replaying the GIF multiple times.
When the usually poker-faced Shen Tang smiled sincerely, her eyes seemed to hold an entire galaxy, radiating an infectious charm.
That flirtation and kiss request carried no trace of acting.
Chu Ran briefly wondered if Shen Tang might have faked chemistry with her male co-star, secretly dating him and indulging in public displays of affection to make it feel so genuine. But reality told her otherwise: Shen Tang was in a relationship with Jiang Cheng Yu.
With a man like Jiang Cheng Yu in her life, ordinary men simply didn’t measure up in Shen Tang’s eyes.
Chu Ran reopened the iconic GIF of Shen Tang acting cute. A beautiful woman acting sweet was truly irresistible.
Zhao Chi Yi liking the official Weibo post—it was probably meant for Shen Tang.
He claimed he didn’t like her.
Her intuition told her he was lying to himself.
When he dropped her off at Hengdian last time, was it really just to see her off, or was it an excuse to catch a glimpse of Shen Tang? Because on the night she didn’t show up, his enthusiasm waned, and he left halfway through dinner.
He said he had a video conference to attend.
Who knew if that was true?
“Chu Ran,” the director called her.
It was her turn to film a scene with Huo Teng.
“Coming,” she replied, closing Weibo and handing her phone to her assistant for safekeeping.
When Shen Tang took a break mid-shoot, her best friend Wen Di called to celebrate.
The show’s ratings, online viewership numbers, and trending topic discussions had broken numerous records.
“All your hard work last year has finally paid off,” Wen Di said, genuinely happy for her. The drama had been filmed last year, and the character was one Shen Tang wasn’t particularly skilled at portraying.
Wen Di had even advised Shen Tang to think twice before accepting the role.
If she performed poorly, it could ruin her reputation.
For three months, Shen Tang hadn’t taken on any commercial projects, immersing herself entirely in the production. She stayed on set day after day, poring over the script and analyzing the character’s psychology, even cutting off contact with Jiang Cheng Yu.
“The show is a huge hit now,” Wen Di teased. “So, who’s treating? You or me?”
Shen Tang didn’t hesitate. “Obviously you. Your family’s Yan He Yu sponsored the advertisements—he made a fortune.”
At the mention of Yan He Yu, Wen Di’s smile gradually faded.
They had reconciled at a charity gala in Shanghai. He reached out to her, and she didn’t resist. But recently, Wen Di had been feeling uneasy, plagued by a sense of insecurity. Something about Yan He Yu felt off.
Sometimes, in bed, he would stare at her for long stretches without explanation.
“Alright, then. After Sheng Xiao wraps, I’ll treat you to some spicy hot pot,” Wen Di joked, careful not to let Shen Tang notice anything unusual.
With only a few days left until the Spring Festival, Wen Di asked how Shen Tang planned to spend it and whether she had time to visit her grandfather.
“The director gave me four days off,” Shen Tang replied. “I’ll spend one day in Beijing and three days at home with Grandpa.”
“Wow, this is rare. Finally showing some concern for your poor little Jiang Cheng Yu, huh?”
“...”
After bantering with Wen Di for a while, Shen Tang ended the call.
There was still some time before her next scene, so she slipped on her down jacket and went for a walk.
Hengdian was blanketed in a thin layer of snow.
Shen Tang deliberately found a quiet spot to call Jiang Cheng Yu.
The phone rang, but there was no answer on the other end.
She tucked her phone back into her pocket and returned to the set.
Walking through the icy snow, she suddenly missed Jiang Cheng Yu deeply.
A few minutes later, Jiang Cheng Yu replied: [In a meeting. I’ll call you tonight.] Just as she was about to exit WeChat, a flurry of messages popped up in a group chat.
[What?! Am I seeing things? Is this your engagement announcement with Tian Qing Lu? @Yan He Yu]
Attached was a screenshot of a welcome sign designed by an event planning company.
Everyone was waiting for Yan He Yu’s response.
Rumors had been circulating for a while, but people dismissed them as jokes—until the sign appeared.
Jiang Cheng Yu was also waiting for Yan He Yu to say something.
Yan He Yu’s reply consisted of just two words: [Not blind.]
If he wasn’t blind, then he was admitting to the engagement.
Someone in the group tagged Jiang Cheng Yu: [@Brother Jiang, you’re in trouble. Auntie Jiang might already be on her way to pressure you into marriage. It’s almost Spring Festival, and everyone will be back soon.]
Jiang Cheng Yu didn’t respond in the group chat. Instead, he turned off his phone.
It wasn’t until after ten o’clock that night that he finally had a moment to call Shen Tang.
Shen Tang was in the hotel kitchen, where she had already learned to cook three dishes over the past few days.
When his call came in, she was busy deveining shrimp.
Her assistant answered the phone and held it up to her ear.
“Hello,” she said, multitasking as she worked. Her voice sounded distant, lacking focus.
Jiang Cheng Yu heard her faint tone and assumed she was tired. “Are you sleeping?”
“No.” She couldn’t exactly tell him she was learning to cook. “We haven’t wrapped yet.”
Jiang Cheng Yu glanced at his watch. “It’s already half-past ten. Are you filming a night scene today?”
Shen Tang followed his lead. “Yeah, it’ll be a while longer.”
Jiang Cheng Yu had just returned from a business dinner. It was rare for him to call, and her night shoot coincided with his free time.
Instead of hanging up immediately, he asked, “Do you miss me?”
Shen Tang steadied her thoughts. “There are people around.”
Jiang Cheng Yu tilted his chin slightly and loosened his tie with one hand. “Your answer doesn’t make any sense.”
Taking off his tie, he murmured, “If you don’t say it, then I guess I don’t miss you either.”
This sudden tenderness from him left her defenseless.
This time, he was the one missing her first.
________________________________________
On the twenty-ninth day of the lunar month, Jiang Cheng Yu left the office and returned to the old family estate.
On the road leading to the compound, he happened to encounter Yan He Yu, who was heading out.
He honked twice, and as their cars slowly came to a stop side by side, their windows faced each other.
Yan He Yu leaned against the backseat, expressionless. Seeing Jiang Cheng Yu softened his demeanor slightly, and he greeted him: “Just back?”
Jiang Cheng Yu tapped his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, one tap at a time, saying nothing.
Yan He Yu understood what Jiang Cheng Yu was waiting for.
But he had nothing to say.
He rummaged through the center console for cigarettes and a lighter, tossing one out the window to Jiang Cheng Yu.
Jiang Cheng Yu didn’t take it, picking it up and throwing it back.
Yan He Yu smoked a few puffs in silence, still saying nothing.
Jiang Cheng Yu hadn’t expected Yan He Yu to actually follow through with the engagement to Tian Qing Lu. He asked, “What do you plan to do about Wen Di?”
The silence between them thickened with smoke.
Yan He Yu finished his cigarette before speaking: “I’ll handle it.”
What more could Jiang Cheng Yu say? Matters of the heart were none of his business.
He gently pressed the accelerator, and the two cars passed each other.
When he arrived home, his niece and mother were watching TV in the living room.
“Uncle.”
“Hmm.” Jiang Cheng Yu took off his overcoat. “What are you watching?”
Li Zheng smiled. “My goddess’s drama.”
Madame Jiang sprang up as if she’d seen a savior. “Cheng Yu, come watch with Zheng Zheng. I’ll go upstairs and check on what your father’s doing.”
She grabbed her cashmere shawl and fled like she was escaping.
Li Zheng collapsed onto the sofa laughing. She had asked her grandmother to watch a youth romance starring Shen Tang, claiming she wanted to bond with her idol.
Grandma struggled to watch the saccharine scenes, her eyes darting around uncomfortably.
“Uncle,” she pointed at the screen, “Have you watched this drama yet?”
Jiang Cheng Yu poured himself a glass of warm water. He’d been busy lately but managed to catch up to episode nine.
After taking a few sips, he said, “No, what drama?”
Li Zheng mocked him with a laugh, sitting up. “You’re lying through your teeth. I don’t believe you haven’t seen the热搜s. This drama is everywhere.”
Jiang Cheng Yu sat beside his niece, his expression unchanged. “I’ve been too busy to look at my phone. You think everyone’s like you?”
Li Zheng shot him a glare. “You’re just being hypocritical.” She changed the channel.
“I’m going to the study to video call my dad.” She casually took the remote with her.
Jiang Cheng Yu tried to change the channel but couldn’t find the remote. He called out to the bouncing figure skipping up the stairs: “Zheng Zheng!”
“I can’t hear you!” Li Zheng waved the remote teasingly behind her back.
The housekeeper quickly fetched another remote—same model, compatible.
Jiang Cheng Yu switched back to the previous channel, lowering the volume almost to mute. If anyone else in the house asked why he was watching this romance drama, he had already prepared an excuse: his niece forced him to watch it, and he couldn’t refuse.
Halfway through the episode, Shen Tang called him.
“You’re finishing so early today?” He reclined on the sofa, staring at the screen as the scene of her arguing and making up with the male lead played.
Shen Tang was already in Beijing, about to arrive at the villa.
She had flown into Beijing that afternoon and wanted to surprise him, so she hadn’t told him beforehand.
“If the shoot goes smoothly, we finish early.” She brushed it off and asked, “What about you? Is the company still open?”
“It’s closed today.” Jiang Cheng Yu told her he was at his parents’ place. “I’ll head back soon.”
“Shen Tang.”
“Hmm?”
Looking at the screen, where she was acting cute with her on-screen boyfriend, Jiang Cheng Yu said, “When will you act cute with me?”
Shen Tang: “?”
She couldn’t keep up with his sudden train of thought.
Jiang Cheng Yu turned up the volume. Shen Tang recognized the lines—it was dialogue from her drama. “Are you watching the show?”
“It’s on at home.” Jiang Cheng Yu rested his forehead on his hand, carefully observing every expression on the screen. She had never acted that way with him.
Shen Tang explained, “That’s just following the script.”
Jiang Cheng Yu: “Then follow the script and act it out for me.”
“...” Putting herself in his shoes, Shen Tang understood his feelings. “Wait until we meet.”
Jiang Cheng Yu paused the show and focused on their call. “It’s snowing again in Hengdian. Dress warmly.”
The abrupt change in tone caught Shen Tang off guard. “It’s alright, not cold.”
She glanced outside the car window—they had already entered the villa district. “Let’s talk later. I need to memorize my lines. You shouldn’t watch that drama anymore.”
Jiang Cheng Yu: “Mm.” After hanging up, he resumed the episode.
Meanwhile, at the villa.
The housekeepers and staff were all on holiday, leaving the house empty and quiet.
Shen Tang put down her suitcase, changed clothes, and headed straight to the kitchen.
Worried there might not be shrimp at home, she had picked some up on the way back from the airport.
This trip to Beijing was specifically to cook Jiang Cheng Yu’s favorite oatmeal shrimp dish.
After practicing for so long, she could now prepare it effortlessly.
At nine-thirty, the oatmeal shrimp was ready.
But Jiang Cheng Yu still hadn’t returned.
Thinking he was with his parents, she refrained from rushing him.
Shen Tang took a bath, changed into her pajamas, and waited for him in the living room downstairs.
She set an alarm on her phone. With flights during the Spring Festival hard to book, Sister Li had managed to secure a ticket for her departing at eight o’clock the next morning. She needed to wake up at four-thirty to catch her flight.
It was ten o’clock now. She had at most six and a half hours left with him.
But Jiang Cheng Yu still hadn’t come home.
The oatmeal shrimp had gone cold.
Shen Tang turned on the TV and started watching her own drama.
Her mind wandered, occasionally glancing toward the courtyard to see if a car was pulling in.
As midnight approached, she couldn’t help but drift off on the sofa.
She got up to brew a cup of coffee, diluting it with water to avoid gaining weight.
Wrapping herself in a blanket, she propped her head up and continued watching the drama.
She didn’t realize when she fell asleep.
Her sleep wasn’t deep. Half-asleep and half-awake, she was startled awake by her phone vibrating.
Shen Tang jolted upright, thinking Jiang Cheng Yu had called. Grabbing her phone, she saw it was her four-thirty alarm.
The vast living room was still empty. Jiang Cheng Yu hadn’t returned all night.