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Jiang Cheng Yu’s sudden plea for reconciliation caught Shen Tang completely off guard.
Though his tone still carried the air of superiority that was characteristic of him, this was probably the greatest compromise the second young master had made in his life.
She didn’t respond directly. “Let me play you a piano piece.”
Jiang Cheng Yu couldn’t guess what she was thinking and silently waited for the music to begin.
The piano in the living room—she hadn’t played it in a long time.
When she returned from London, she had once again asked Xie Yun Cheng to transport it back to China on his private jet.
Sitting at the piano, Shen Tang placed her phone on speaker next to her.
She had played this piece countless times; the sheet music was etched into her memory.
As the melody began, so did her singing. Afraid Jiang Cheng Yu wouldn’t recognize the tune, she sang the first two lines a cappella—the first time she had ever sung to him:
“Standing alone on this stage, I hear the applause begin to rise.”
Her voice stopped, but the piano continued.
Only after the piece ended did Jiang Cheng Yu speak: “What are you trying to say?” This song seemed to have nothing to do with their reconciliation.
Shen Tang picked up her phone and turned off the speaker.
“Entangling myself in a love affair with no future is less worthwhile than using this time to give back to my fans. During my toughest times, they were unwaveringly by my side. One day, I might retire from the industry—I want to leave behind more quality work. This path has been lonelier than I ever imagined. My best five years have been spent here. In the past six months with you, I’ve been plagued by insecurity, which severely affected my work. I don’t have the luxury of wasting time like this.”
Her fingers danced lightly over the keys with one hand.
“If your only reason for wanting to reconcile is because you’re not used to losing me or can’t let go of those three years, then there’s no point in getting back together. Jiang Cheng Yu, all my feelings for you were real, and so is this breakup.”
She hung up.
After sitting in silence for a while, Shen Tang set down her phone and resumed playing the piano—the same piece.
Suddenly, the music stopped.
Her fingertips hovered uncertainly over the keys, suspended in midair for a moment.
“Finished already?” Grandpa didn’t understand the piano piece and assumed it was over. He had brewed a pot of fine floral tea for Xie Yun Cheng. “Take this to Yun Cheng.”
Shen Tang had forgotten where she was in the piece and stood up from the piano bench.
Xie Yun Cheng wasn’t much of a tea drinker—he preferred red wine, though coffee was acceptable too. “Grandpa, could you chill some milk ice cubes for Xie Yun Cheng? He adds them to his drinks.”
Grandpa thought he’d misheard. “Add what?”
Shen Tang: “Milk ice cubes.”
“?” Grandpa couldn’t imagine what red wine with milk would taste like. “This kid.”
“Oh, right, Tang Tang—”
Shen Tang, holding the teapot, turned around at the door. “Do you want me to bring him something else?”
“No.” Grandpa stood there leaning on his cane, hesitating how to phrase his question.
Shen Tang didn’t rush him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts.
Grandpa finally spoke awkwardly, “Has Xiao Jiang managed to win you over yet? It’s been half a year, and you still haven’t agreed to be with him?”
In the end, Shen Tang couldn’t bear to tell her grandfather the truth. “... For the past six months, I’ve been busy on set without time to meet. He’s also occupied managing several companies.”
Grandpa looked disheartened. “How long will you stay at home this time?”
Shen Tang hadn’t yet told him about the surprise. “I’ll be in Haitang Village until July and in Shenzhen until October. You’ll see me almost every day.”
Grandpa’s cane trembled slightly, and his lips quivered. “Is my condition already…?”
Shen Tang blinked away tears. “No, Grandpa, what are you thinking? Didn’t I tell you I secured a drama filmed in Shenzhen that starts shooting in May?”
Forcing a smile, she added, “Don’t get too excited, but if everything goes as planned, we’ll be filming in our Haitang Village.” She pointed behind her. “On the old street.”
“There should be scenes by the sea too, but the specifics depend on the director.”
She said, “I’ll stay at home during filming.”
Grandpa smiled through tears. “That’s good, that’s good.” He repeated it twice. “Is it Director Zhou Mingqian’s drama? The one called That Summer ?”
Shen Tang nodded vigorously.
Grandpa wasn’t skilled at using search engines, but he had a Weibo account where he logged in daily just to check his granddaughter’s posts. So, apart from Shen Tang, he didn’t know who the other main actors were.
He had only seen her retweets, where she mentioned playing the role of Jiang Chu, directed by Zhou Mingqian.
“I’ll visit the set every day and bring you ice cream.”
Shen Tang: “Absolutely.”
She waved the teapot in her hand.
Grandpa gestured for her to go upstairs and find Xie Yun Cheng.
Thinking about how his granddaughter would be home for several months, he couldn’t help but smile as he stood there.
The guesthouse at Brother Shen’s place was undergoing renovations to prepare for the summer tourist rush.
With no guests staying over, it was convenient for her to come and go freely.
Xie Yun Cheng’s ‘VIP’ suite was on the third floor, with a small terrace outside. He was lounging on the railing, eating fruit, and gazing at the sea.
Shen Tang knocked and entered, placing the floral tea on the wooden table.
Xie Yun Cheng glanced at her. “Did you clear things up with Jiang Cheng Yu?”
Shen Tang hummed affirmatively and walked out onto the terrace, leaning on the railing to look at the sea.
“He must’ve been pretty upset, huh?”
“Yeah. He even asked me to reconcile.”
“Hmph.” Xie Yun Cheng peeled a lychee. “So, how did you respond?”
“I played him a song.”
Xie Yun Cheng tilted his head, about to ask what song it was, but then he paused. “Why are you crying?”
He sighed. “If you want to reconcile with him, just agree.”
“It’s not about him,” Shen Tang wiped her tears. “I’m thinking about Grandpa’s illness. The doctor said the prognosis isn’t optimistic.” Thinking about Grandpa’s expression earlier, believing his days were numbered, she felt an indescribable sadness.
Grandpa was only worried about her.
“He wants me to stay at home but is also afraid of me being there.”
Xie Yun Cheng handed her the lychee he had just peeled. Even with his quick tongue, he didn’t know what to say at this moment.
He gazed at the waves rolling in with white foam. “The seascape here is nice. Did you watch the sea here every day when you were little?”
Shen Tang pointed to the roadside below. “I sat there to watch.”
Xie Yun Cheng peeled another lychee for her, but Shen Tang shook her head. “Too many calories.”
“At a time like this, you’re still thinking about dieting.” He ate it himself.
“When you finish filming this drama, come visit my island. The sunrises and sunsets are more beautiful than here.”
Shen Tang had been to his island before. “No, it’s boring—a deserted island.”
Xie Yun Cheng drew her attention. “It’s changed a lot now. I’ve tidied it up. People live there now, growing crops and building mountain trails.”
“They grow crops?”
“Yeah, everything. Totally self-sufficient.”
Shen Tang became somewhat interested. “Alright, whenever I have time. This year, I’ll stay with Grandpa.”
The topic circled back.
Xie Yun Cheng redirected it. “These lychees are good. Where did you buy them?”
Shen Tang: “At the fruit store.”
Xie Yun Cheng laughed, choking on the lychee.
He went inside to pour some floral tea.
“When are you leaving?” Shen Tang followed him into the room.
Xie Yun Cheng glanced at her. “You’re kicking me out already on my first day?”
Shen Tang knew he had come specifically to visit Grandpa. “I’m just worried about delaying your business.”
“It’s fine. Uncle Shang is in charge. I’m just here to make appearances and meet some people.” Xie Yun Cheng drank half a cup of tea. “I might stay here longer. I have a few clients in Shenzhen, so I’ll return here at night.”
Shen Tang left it up to him.
The room suddenly fell silent, the sound of the waves outside clearly audible.
Lost in thought, Jiang Cheng Yu lit a cigarette, wondering what Shen Tang was doing at this moment far away in Haitang Village.
She refused to reconcile, her stance so resolute.
The meeting in the conference room was still ongoing. He had been out for a while.
Jiang Cheng Yu extinguished the cigarette. She said being entangled with him had affected her work—hadn’t it affected him too?
Returning to the meeting room, Jiang Cheng Yu skimmed through the secretary’s summary of the previous discussion. “Didn’t we discuss the collaboration proposal with M.K?”
Everyone remained silent. Hadn’t he himself rejected that proposal earlier?
Jiang Cheng Yu handed the meeting notes back to the secretary. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow to discuss it again.”
After the meeting dispersed, Jiang Cheng Yu received a call from Lu Zhifei, inviting him to dinner.
Lu Zhifei got straight to the point. “Let’s grab a meal.”
“What for?” Jiang Cheng Yu wasn’t in the mood to dine with anyone.
Lu Zhifei: “Our arranged engagement—I’ve resolved it. No elder in my family will bring it up again. Don’t you owe me a thank-you dinner?”
Jiang Cheng Yu wasn’t grateful. “Whether you resolve it or not doesn’t affect me. I won’t marry anyone unless I want to. If I decide to marry, no one can stop me. The decision lies with me.”
“But if the Jiang family and Uncle Jiang insist on your marriage, wouldn’t you be troubled? Eventually, you might even clash with the family. Now it’s settled. When you return to the old house, you won’t have to worry about this anymore, nor endure Uncle Jiang’s nagging. There are benefits for you, aren’t there?”
Jiang Cheng Yu considered for a moment. “You choose the place.”
Lu Zhifei asked a friend for help and booked a restaurant with a 270-degree view. This was the first time she had dined with him since her failed confession.
Before she confessed, he hadn’t been involved with anyone else, and she had a place in his life. But things had changed since then.
She arrived 25 minutes early, and Jiang Cheng Yu wasn’t late either.
“I thought you’d take longer.”
“The roads weren’t congested.” Jiang Cheng Yu handed his suit jacket to the waiter and sat across from her.
Lu Zhifei occasionally visited this restaurant but wasn’t familiar with the menu. She lowered her head to browse through it.
Knowing his preferences, she didn’t hesitate. “I’ll order for you.”
Jiang Cheng Yu: “No oatmeal shrimp.”
Lu Zhifei looked up and smiled. “Not easy—you’ve finally gotten tired of it.”
“I haven’t.” Jiang Cheng Yu took a few sips of water. “Shen Tang made it a few times. I don’t feel like having it for now.”
Lu Zhifei nodded. “Then I’ll order something else.”
She ordered a few dishes they hadn’t tried before, confident they wouldn’t disappoint, then closed the menu.
The waiter left the private room.
Lu Zhifei hadn’t felt like admiring Beijing’s night view in a long time. Perhaps it was because of his presence tonight—the city, glittering like a galaxy, had never seemed so magnificent.
She waited for Jiang Cheng Yu to ask her about resolving the arranged marriage, but he sat there sipping water as if it were red wine, showing no interest in conversation or curiosity about the matter.
Today, he came just to treat her, closing the chapter on their past.
In her early twenties, she already knew that the person she was destined to marry would be Jiang Cheng Yu.
This was the intention of both the Jiang and Lu families. The intertwined interests of the two families meant that one move could set off a chain reaction. At the time, she and Jiang Cheng Yu got along well, further solidifying the families’ determination for an arranged marriage.
The only surprise was that Jiang Cheng Yu had a natural rebellious streak, and the idea of not marrying had been planted in his heart from the beginning.
Conveniently, he didn’t even bother dating.
Without emotions or attachments, he had no vulnerabilities in anyone’s hands.
There were two younger members of the Jiang family who hadn’t listened to their elders—one married a girl from an ordinary family, and the other married a boy from an ordinary family. Even now, they have children, but their marriages still haven’t been accepted by the Jiang family.
Back then, those two youngsters caused a huge rift with their families, turning the household upside down.
These incidents indirectly reinforced Jiang Cheng Yu’s aversion to marriage.
Benefiting from the family’s privileges yet unwilling to sacrifice his own feelings—this was something the Jiang family elders wouldn’t tolerate.
Even Jiang Cheng Yu’s older brother and sister-in-law were part of an arranged marriage, though fortunately, they fell in love with each other.
Jiang Cheng Yu’s mother was more lenient with her son, but in Jiang Cheng Yu’s father’s entrenched beliefs, even if Jiang Cheng Yu didn’t want to marry now, he would eventually have to accept a marriage arranged by the family.
At the time, she too had hoped for luck, thinking she might have the same fortune as Jiang Cheng Yu’s sister-in-law—finding love before an arranged marriage. She also thought she held a special place in Jiang Cheng Yu’s heart, but that wasn’t love.
After her failed confession, she and Jiang Cheng Yu had no further ties, yet she still hadn’t given up on the idea of marrying him.
Like Tian Qinglu, who couldn’t win Yan Heyu’s affection but still got the marriage—over time, feelings would develop.
But Jiang Cheng Yu wasn’t Yan Heyu.
He wouldn’t give marriage to Shen Tang, with whom he’d been together for three years, let alone her.
She decided to change her approach to win his affection, abandoning her only bargaining chip—the arranged marriage.
Otherwise, she would only push Jiang Cheng Yu further away.
When her family heard she didn’t want to marry Jiang Cheng Yu, all hell broke loose.
Her stance was firm—if they insisted on making her marry Jiang Cheng Yu, they would never see her again.
Her grandfather was frightened, afraid she might do something extreme, and ultimately gave in, angrily declaring he would never meddle in her affairs again.
It was Jiang Cheng Yu who first disrespected her by refusing marriage. After the Jiang family elders learned of her determination, they said nothing more.
Of course, there was still some lingering dissatisfaction among the elders of both families.
Without the constraints of an arranged marriage, perhaps her and Jiang Cheng Yu’s relationship might lead to a different outcome.
Lu Zhifei rested her chin on her hand, drinking water just like him. “To be honest, I always thought you loved Shen Tang deeply. You were together for over three years.”
Those were also her toughest three years, hoping every day for their breakup.
“I ran into Shen Tang at a cocktail party the other day.”
At the mention of Shen Tang, Jiang Cheng Yu looked up at her.
“We chatted briefly. She’s very carefree, clear about what she wants. I’m far behind her. That night, I reflected a lot and decided not to trap you with marriage.”
Lu Zhifei smiled. “Of course, it’s not certain that I could trap you anyway.”
Jiang Cheng Yu didn’t respond, pouring himself some water.
Lu Zhifei’s glass was nearly empty, and she handed it over.
Jiang Cheng Yu refilled it halfway for her.
Lu Zhifei stopped talking about marriage, a topic he rejected, and refrained from prying into his current situation with Shen Tang. Instead, she brought up his niece. “My mom told me Zhen Zhen plans to intern at a TV station this summer—it’s an internship she found herself. The little girl is growing up.”
Jiang Cheng Yu: “Mm, she wants to be a journalist.”
“That’s great, doing what she loves.” Lu Zhifei sighed. “Unlike me, I’ve become what my mom wanted. Besides making money, I don’t know what I truly like. Choosing a university was my mom’s decision; choosing a major was my grandpa’s decision. Applying to Oxford was to satisfy their pride.”
Jiang Cheng Yu said, “It took my parents, my older brother, and my sister-in-law many years to accept that Zhen Zhen is an ordinary child without lofty ambitions.”
Lu Zhifei continued, “Is that why you don’t want children? After all, no one can guarantee that your intelligence and abilities will perfectly pass on to your kids.”
Perhaps like Zhen Zhen.
Jiang Cheng Yu said indifferently, “I haven’t thought that far. Without marriage, how can there be children?”
Lu Zhifei put down her water glass and unfolded her napkin. “You don’t want to marry because no one has entered your heart yet. When you love someone enough, you’ll want to build a home and have children with them.”
Jiang Cheng Yu faintly hummed in response.
Maybe.
But at least for now, he still didn’t want to confine himself to marriage.
________________________________________
Early May, the That Summer production team arrived in Haitang Village. Xie Yun Cheng returned to Beijing; he had stayed here for over three weeks, mostly accompanying Grandpa on walks.
As for her and Jiang Cheng Yu, all contact was severed.
Grandpa only learned that Chen Nanjin was the producer of That Summer through gossip among villagers. They mentioned that the famous director Chen would also come to their village.
“Tang Tang, how... how did you...” Grandpa stuttered.
Shen Tang held her grandfather’s hand. “Alright, alright, let’s not talk about this. Isn’t this good?”
Grandpa exhaled deeply. “Chen Yino is also in this drama, right? Are you crazy? Why are you putting yourself through this?”
“No suffering,” Shen Tang reassured her grandfather. “We often meet at various events anyway. Chen Yino isn’t bad.”
Grandpa felt a mix of emotions. Just to let him see Chen Nanjin, his granddaughter had to endure so much humiliation.
“Tomorrow is the start of filming; Chen Nanjin should arrive in Haitang Village today. Grandpa, let me play the piano for you.” She sat at the piano, unwilling to dwell on those messy thoughts.
But even the music couldn’t chase away the past hurts.
In the evening, Shen Tang accompanied her grandfather outside the yard to enjoy the cool sea breeze.
Both harboring thoughts, their conversation lacked focus.
“Grandpa, I’m going to the sea.”
“Go ahead, but don’t go too far.”
Shen Tang bent down and tied her skirt.
Grandpa sat at the doorstep, watching his granddaughter walk toward the beach. Her white figure was initially clear, but later, amidst the crowd, he couldn’t tell which one was her.
“Dad, let’s go to the beach. So many people.”
“You go ahead; I’m wearing leather shoes, not suitable for the water.”
A father and daughter conversed by the roadside. Grandpa instinctively glanced over.
Both wore sunglasses, and the girl also had a sun hat.
Assuming they were just tourists, Grandpa paid no mind.
Chen Yino carried her sandals and ran barefoot to the beach.
Chen Nanjin looked at the elderly man by the roadside, trying to match the father from his childhood memories with the old man before him, but he couldn’t reconcile the two.
His father had aged so much he barely recognized him.
Grandpa felt a gaze lingering on him and abruptly turned his head.
Chen Nanjin walked toward him, but he still didn’t recognize the man as his son.
Grandpa assumed he was a guest at the inn and pointed to the gate. “Enter from there; I don’t know if there are any rooms left.” The inn had been renovated and had opened for business these past two days.
Such a familiar voice.
Chen Nanjin crouched down and removed his sunglasses.
Grandpa froze. There was a slight difference between seeing someone on TV and in real life, but the resemblance was about seventy to eighty percent. “Nanjin?”
“Dad, it’s me.” Chen Nanjin’s throat felt scorched, raw with pain.
Grandpa smiled, feeling somewhat awkward.
“You’re here already?”
Chen Nanjin nodded. “I’ll be staying in Haitang Village for over a month.”
Grandpa pulled over a wooden chair nearby. Weathered by constant wind and sun, its original paint had long peeled off.
He awkwardly wiped the dust off the chair. “Sit here.”
Chen Nanjin felt a pang in his heart and sat beside his father, putting his sunglasses back on.
“Is Tang Tang at home?”
“She’s playing in the water.”
Silence enveloped them.
There had never been much to say on the phone, and now meeting face-to-face, there was even less to talk about.
Chen Nanjin remembered something. “Dad, what happened to the scar on Tang Tang’s arm?”
Grandpa paused. “When she was little, she often asked me when her parents would come to see her. I told her they’d come by plane once they were done with work. I said it casually, but she took it to heart. Ever since then, whenever a plane flew by, she’d look up. One day, while we were out at sea, she tilted her head back too far looking at a plane, lost her balance, and fell into the cabin where the anchor was.”
Finishing his words, both father and son unconsciously looked toward the beach, their vision blurred.
Until dark, Shen Tang still hadn’t returned.
He knew he wouldn’t wait for her anymore. She must have seen him on shore and deliberately avoided him.
________________________________________
The next day, the That Summer production began.
All key creatives were present, including Fan Yu.
With her daughter and nephew in the crew, and her husband also involved, her presence didn’t seem inappropriate to anyone.
Apart from director Zhou Mingqian and male lead Gu Heng, Shen Tang didn’t show a pleasant face to others.
In this drama, she had scenes with Fan Yu’s nephew.
When no one was around, Fan Yishuo lowered his voice. “Don’t get too cocky. Don’t think that having my uncle around means everything will be fine. The day will come when I’ll deal with you. Do you know how close you drove my aunt to being hospitalized? She lost all face. I’ve never seen someone as desperate as you.”
Shen Tang showed no signs of anger, a faint smile on her lips. “Is that so? If you haven’t seen it, it just shows how narrow your perspective is, like a frog at the bottom of a well. Also, come tell me when your aunt is hospitalized. Until then, I won’t feel satisfied.”
Fan Yishuo almost choked.
Shen Tang coldly walked away.
The atmosphere on set was eerie and oppressive.
Zhou Mingqian privately approached Chen Nanjin and offered him a cigarette. “Does Aunt Fan plan to stay on set?”
Chen Nanjin waved it off, declining the cigarette. “She said she’ll stay for a week to observe Yino’s performance. Next week, she has matters in Beijing and will definitely return.”
Zhou Mingqian chuckled dryly, unable to complain.
“All actors except Shen Tang were my initial choices. It was because Shen Tang was cast as Jiang Chu that Gu Heng agreed to take on this project. Otherwise, no one could persuade him.”
He slowly exhaled smoke. “Shen Tang and Gu Heng are serious about acting. Tell Aunt Fan not to ruin the set with her personal desires. Don’t make me suffer silently. If it comes to that, I’ll quit, and anyone else can direct. In my production, those who don’t listen to me can leave—anyone.”
Meaning, including you.
Chen Nanjin shot him a glance. “Don’t be disrespectful.”
Zhou Mingqian continued on his own. “I’m not joking with you. Petty tricks like secretly causing trouble for others—best not let me catch you.”
Chen Nanjin said nothing more.
Zhou Mingqian threw away the cigarette butt and gathered the key creatives for a meeting.
By the eighth day, Fan Yu still hadn’t left the set.
Zhou Mingqian kept a stern face but didn’t comment further.
Today’s scene involved Shen Tang and Fan Yishuo. In the script, Fan Yishuo’s character angrily confronts Shen Tang, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her against the wall, threatening her to abandon her plan to open another factory.
Zhou Mingqian explained the scene to them, demonstrating himself by having Fan Yishuo grab his neck. “The force isn’t in your hand; it’s in tensing your arm muscles. Your eyes are key. Yes, that’s about the right pressure. A girl can’t withstand too much squeezing.”
The makeup artist was touching up Shen Tang’s makeup and fixing her hair.
This scene was one of the pivotal conflict points in the entire drama. Chen Nanjin sat in front of the monitor, unmoving since he sat down, continuously watching Shen Tang on the screen.
Fan Yu subtly glared at Chen Nanjin. Whenever Shen Tang was on set, Chen Nanjin’s eyes saw no one else.
“Mom, why are you glaring at Dad? Did you two have a fight?” Chen Yino had caught her mother’s earlier action.
“Nothing, just a disagreement at work. He doesn’t yield to me.” Fan Yu smiled, never showing her emotions in front of her daughter.
Over there, after Zhou Mingqian finished explaining the scene and Shen Tang’s makeup was retouched,
the clapperboard sounded.
Shen Tang didn’t know how much force Zhou Mingqian had demonstrated earlier. Now, Fan Yishuo gripped her shoulder with one hand and her neck with the other, dragging her from the corridor into the office. During the struggle, her shoe fell off—a detail not in the script.
Though choked and struggling to breathe, she was quite satisfied with this small detail.
It added tension and realism.
The director didn’t call cut; the camera continued rolling.
“Jiang Chu, what the hell do you think you’re doing! Are you trying to drive me to death?”
A loud thud.
Shen Tang’s head hit the wall, Fan Yishuo pinning her neck tightly.
Her entire body pressed against the wall, her legs pinned by Fan Yishuo’s, unable to move.
Shen Tang struggled fiercely, but to no avail.
The suffocation intensified; death seemed imminent in the next second.
She realized Fan Yishuo was exacting personal revenge—what he had referred to earlier as ‘dealing with her.’
He had prepared thoroughly; his actions and lines matched the script, so no one noticed anything amiss.
According to the plot, at this moment, the office director heard the commotion and rushed over from the adjacent office.
Fan Yishuo turned to look at the newcomer, still mindful of his lines. In that split second when he relaxed his guard, Shen Tang found her chance to counterattack. She freed one leg, curled her knee forcefully, and struck him hard.
A piercing scream echoed through the office.
Fan Yu abruptly stood up, but Chen Yino pulled her back down. “Mom, that’s my cousin intentionally screaming for the act. It’s just a performance. Why are you so tense?”
The office director followed the script, pushing Shen Tang out. “You’re no match for him. If it turns physical, you’ll lose. Hurry up and leave.”
He stayed behind to handle the mess.
“Cut!”
The scene was a one-take success, surpassing Zhou Mingqian’s expectations in terms of everyone’s emotions and performances.
However, even after calling cut, Fan Yishuo remained writhing in pain on the ground. He reached out to the camera. “Call 120, I can’t take it.” Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
Only at this moment did everyone except Shen Tang realize that Fan Yishuo’s fall earlier looked so natural with no trace of acting—it wasn’t part of the performance; he was genuinely in pain.
The finger marks and bruises on Shen Tang’s neck were shocking.
These two had immersed themselves in their roles.
Many on-set staff thought so.
Dedicated actors were truly different—they risked their lives. Watching Shen Tang being dragged by the neck into the room, her head hitting the wall, even they felt the pain.
The cameraman had already called 120.
Seeing the blood-red marks on Shen Tang’s neck, the bodyguard roughly guessed what happened. He strode into the room, pretending to care about Fan Yishuo’s injury, and grabbed his wrist. “Let me see where you’re hurt.”
Fan Yishuo felt his wrist nearly break, pain drenching his back.
Subsequently, the bodyguard subtly released Fan Yishuo.
He had some medical knowledge and told Zhou Mingqian, “It seems he accidentally injured his spleen. His spleen is fragile.”
Fan Yishuo was in too much pain to speak. This bodyguard twisted the truth—what did he mean by his spleen being fragile? That woman Shen Tang struck him with lethal force.
But he was at fault, so for now, he had to swallow the bitter pill silently.
Zhou Mingqian had seen all sorts of things in his years as a director. He instructed his assistant on what to do.
Soon, everyone resumed their tasks.
Chen Nanjin ignored Fan Yishuo’s injury and hurried to Shen Tang. “Does it hurt?”
“I won’t die.” Shen Tang recorded the marks on her neck with her phone, keeping evidence.
If Fan Yishuo later accused her of intentional harm, she needed proof to shut him down.
There was a hospital in the village. Within minutes, the ambulance arrived.
As Fan Yu passed Shen Tang, her glare could have split Shen Tang in two. She hadn’t expected this woman to be so ruthless, nearly crippling Fan Yishuo.
Shen Tang didn’t flinch, accepting a scarf from her assistant to cover the marks on her neck.
“Sister Tang, does it hurt?” The assistant’s eyes welled up.
“It’s fine, I don’t feel much now.” She glanced at her assistant. “No tears. I didn’t lose; I even gained.”
Her phone rang.
After over a month of no contact, Jiang Cheng Yu called at this moment.
Shen Tang found a quiet spot by the road to answer. “Hello.”
Jiang Cheng Yu’s voice was hoarse from just waking up. “Filming?”
“Mm, what is it?”
“Nothing, I just dreamed of you during my nap, calling my name. It was too dark, and I couldn’t see where you were.” After waking up, Jiang Cheng Yu kept thinking about her, worried she might have conflicts on set. “Everything okay?”
The wind blew away longing.
“Fine, what could happen during filming?” The scarf around her neck was blown open by the wind, and Shen Tang pressed it down with her hand. “Unless it’s a life-or-death matter, don’t contact me again. If you call next time, I won’t answer.”
“Mm.” Jiang Cheng Yu paused. “With your temper, I can’t help but worry about you.”
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