STYL - 6

Jiang Cheng Yu changed into the sportswear set. The top fit well, but the pants were about half an inch too short.

“Not bad,” he said to Shen Tang.

Shen Tang asked him to take a full-body photo and send it to her.

Jiang Cheng Yu wasn’t in the habit of taking selfies. “Wait until you come back, and I’ll show it to you in person.”

Shen Tang didn’t push him. His phone was filled with photos of her, but not a single one of himself. Asking him to take a selfie would indeed be difficult for him.

The fact that he had rushed home just to see her today was already beyond her expectations.

“If the clothes fit, then I’ll hang up. You’re busy.”

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng Yu said. “I’ve finished work for the day, and I don’t have anything planned for tonight.” After setting the stage, he asked, “Do you have a complete electronic copy of the script for that period drama?”

So, he had become hooked on reading historical romance novels.

She had given him the portion she had, which he had skimmed through in no time that night.

Shen Tang regretfully informed him, “Sister Li only gave me this much. The rest of the script is still being revised by the screenwriter, and it’s uncertain when it will be ready.”

Jiang Cheng Yu asked, “Who’s the screenwriter?”

“...” She hadn’t expected him to get so obsessed with following the drama.

Shen Tang swallowed her fruit. “Wen Di.”

After hanging up with her, Jiang Cheng Yu immediately called Yan Heyu.

Yan Heyu was at GR Capital, meeting with a friend to discuss some matters.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have answered the call right now.

But he paused his ongoing discussion and picked up the phone.

“Ask Wen Di if there are any kissing scenes between the male and female leads in the unrevised portion of Shallow Fate of Sheng Xiao. “

“......??”

“I’m waiting for your call. Get back to me within ten minutes.” With that, Jiang Cheng Yu ended the call.

Yan Heyu was utterly confused. Out of the five-character title, he only remembered the words “fate shallow.”

Fu Chenglin, sitting across from him, remarked, “What does Jiang Cheng Yu want now?” Only Jiang Cheng Yu could end a call without letting Yan Heyu utter a single word.

Yan Heyu took a sip of coffee and pieced things together. “It’s probably about the new drama Shen Tang is filming. He wants to know if there are kissing scenes, and the screenwriter happens to be Wen Di.”

Fu Chenglin: “He’s asking you to check with Wen Di?”

“Mm.”

In the past, this would have been a simple favor. But now, it was a bit tricky since he and Wen Di had been giving each other the cold shoulder for several days.

Wen Di hadn’t reached out to him, and he hadn’t contacted her either.

They were stuck in this stalemate.

Yan Heyu tapped his fingers nervously on the table.

The noise disrupted Fu Chenglin as he reviewed project documents. He looked up. “Are you treating my desk like a phone keyboard?”

Yan Heyu: “I’m trying to figure out how to ask Wen Di.”

Fu Chenglin tossed out a line: “Isn’t this obvious?”

Yan Heyu frowned. “How can I know without asking?”

Fu Chenglin countered: “Haven’t you watched TV dramas? They’re all pretty much the same.”

Yan Heyu was two years younger than Jiang Cheng Yu. He had never dared to trick or deceive Jiang Cheng Yu before.

But occasionally pulling a prank wouldn’t make Jiang Cheng Yu suspicious.

[There are kissing scenes and bed scenes.]

Jiang Cheng Yu believed him. [I heard the censorship is strict these days. Will the bed scenes pass?]

Yan Heyu responded seriously: [As long as they’re filmed beautifully and subtly, they should pass.]

Jiang Cheng Yu didn’t reply immediately. He picked up his phone and stepped out onto the balcony to light a cigarette.

Yan Heyu feigned concern: [You don’t need to be jealous. At most, there might be some intimate scenes on the couch in the living room.]

Jiang Cheng Yu spotted the flaw. He stubbed out his cigarette. [This is a period drama. Are you saying the characters will magically appear in your living room looking for a couch?]

Yan Heyu burst out laughing, realizing he’d dug himself into a hole this time.

He couldn’t take all the blame. [I’m currently with Fu Chenglin. You understand what I mean, right?]

After passing the buck, he still had to make amends.

With no other choice, he sent a message to Wen Di: [Are there any kissing scenes between the male and female leads in Shallow Fate of Sheng Xiao ?]

Wen Di was smart enough to figure out what was going on.

She replied: [I forgot.]

________________________________________

For several consecutive days, Beijing was plagued by relentless rain.

After Shen Tang flew to Shanghai, Jiang Cheng Yu tried calling her once. Unfortunately, she was at an event, and her assistant answered the phone.

When Shen Tang returned the call, he happened to be in a meeting.

He hung up and sent her a message: [In a meeting.]

Shen Tang asked: [What did you call me for?]

Jiang Cheng Yu: [Nothing important. It’s raining in Beijing, and it’s colder than the past few days.]

Shen Tang quickly replied: [It’s sunny in Shanghai, and the temperature is about the same as the last couple of days.]

Since the temperature in Shanghai hadn’t dropped, there was no need for him to remind her to wear an extra layer. Jiang Cheng Yu turned off his phone screen and set it aside as the meeting continued.

Less than a minute later, his phone vibrated again.

Thinking it was Shen Tang replying, he checked the message—it was from his niece.

Li Zhen: [It’s Friday today. Are you coming home for dinner, Uncle?]

Jiang Cheng Yu was leaving for a business trip tomorrow and would be abroad for over ten days.

After hesitating for a moment, he replied: [Yes.]

Since turning thirty, Jiang Cheng Yu had developed an inexplicable aversion to returning to the family estate for dinner. He avoided it whenever possible.

His parents were relatively open-minded, but seeing their peers in the compound married with children inevitably led to some nagging about his own situation.

His stance on not getting married was interpreted by them as: “He’s just not done playing around yet; he’ll settle down in a few years.”

No matter how much he explained that he wasn’t postponing marriage—he had no intention of marrying at all—they didn’t take him seriously.

Eventually, he stopped wasting breath on explanations.

The meeting didn’t end until nearly six o’clock.

By the time Jiang Cheng Yu left the office, it was already dark, and the streetlights had come on one by one.

Li Zhen called to urge him, asking how much longer it would take for him to arrive.

“I’m stuck in traffic.”

After hanging up, Li Zhen sent him a screenshot.

[Your little auntie is trending again.]

Jiang Cheng Yu casually opened Weibo—it was already at number four on the trending list.

Today, Shen Tang attended a high-luxury event in Shanghai, and the organizers had invited numerous guests.

During the autograph and photo session, reporters noticed that the begonia flower tattoo on Shen Tang’s arm was gone, replaced by a clear, old scar visible in the camera lens.

Shen Tang pointed to the scar and explained that she had been mischievous as a child, falling into the cabin of a boat and being injured by the anchor.

Previously, every time she wore a gown, she had to use various concealers. Last time, there wasn’t enough time, so she used a temporary tattoo sticker.

Finally, with a faint smile, she asked the reporters to Photoshop the scar to make it look prettier when publishing the photos.

Today’s trending topic became an online Photoshop competition.

The scar on Shen Tang’s arm was Photoshopped with various patterns—some heartfelt, others absurd. Some even drew frame-by-frame illustrations of her childhood fall into the cabin.

She became the hottest topic of the day.

In her five years in the industry, Shen Tang had mastered the art of keeping herself at the center of discussions.

Her trending topics were never just a few red carpet looks.

As the car entered the courtyard, Jiang Cheng Yu exited the trending page.

Tonight, only he and his niece were home. His older brother and sister-in-law were busy and not in Beijing.

Li Zhen was curled up on the couch like a little squirrel, munching on nuts. She waved at him and then pointed to the spot next to her. “Uncle, sit here.”

Grandpa Jiang and Grandma Jiang were shelling pine nuts for Li Zhen, having already peeled quite a few into a plate.

Jiang Cheng Yu washed his hands and bent over to grab a pine nut kernel to eat when slap —Grandma Jiang smacked his hand. “If you want to eat, shell them yourself.”

Li Zhen smirked at him triumphantly.

Grandpa Jiang glanced at his son. “If it were me, I’d be too embarrassed to eat something already peeled.”

Jiang Cheng Yu: “I’m not embarrassed.”

With no pine nut kernels to eat, Jiang Cheng Yu had no choice but to start peeling them himself.

Grandma Jiang and Grandpa Jiang resumed their interrupted conversation. “I’m sure I didn’t hear wrong—it’s the Tian family.”

Jiang Cheng Yu was utterly confused. “What Tian family?”

Grandma Jiang: “The matchmaking your Grandpa Yan arranged for He Yu—it’s with Tian Qinglu from the Tian family.”

Jiang Cheng Yu hadn’t heard anything about Yan Heyu’s arranged dating or engagement. Just yesterday, Tian Qinglu had called him because she was having some business trouble and needed his help.

Tian Qinglu had once clashed with her family, and with her stubborn personality, she went off to develop her career in Guangzhou alone. She rarely returned and didn’t keep in touch much.

If not for this request for help, they hadn’t been in contact for nearly a year.

Jiang Cheng Yu finished peeling a pine nut, popped it into his mouth nonchalantly, and didn’t respond to his mother’s comment.

If Yan Heyu got married through matchmaking, his mother would have another reason to pressure him into marriage.

Grandma Jiang immediately saw through her son’s thoughts. “You can rest assured. Even if Yan Heyu marries Tian Qinglu this year, I won’t push you to go on blind dates. How’s that? Am I being considerate as a mother?”

Jiang Cheng Yu glanced at his mother. Her words were cleverly phrased—the key was “this year.”

Who knew what would happen next year?

Jiang Cheng Yu continued peeling pine nuts, subtly nudging his niece with his elbow.

Li Zhen understood—her uncle was seeking her help.

She adjusted her posture, leaned against his shoulder, grabbed his phone, and after two seconds sat up straight. “Uncle, my goddess is trending again. Look—absolutely stunning beauty.”

Jiang Cheng Yu glanced at the phone screen—a paused video frame. There was no trending topic or goddess. But he humored his niece, lying through his teeth: “Average.”

“What kind of eyes do you have!” Li Zhen pretended to be angry and even pushed him.

Grandma Jiang was curious. “What goddess?”

The topic of matchmaking and marriage pressure was successfully diverted.

Li Zhen finally opened the trending page leisurely. “Oh, my recent obsession—Shen Tang.”

Grandma Jiang had watched Shen Tang’s dramas and commented: “Her acting is good, and she’s beautiful.”

Li Zhen turned to Jiang Cheng Yu and scolded him fiercely. “Look at that—Grandma says Shen Tang is beautiful, and you’re blind, saying she’s average.” Still unsatisfied, she hit Jiang Cheng Yu a few more times.

Grandma Jiang hadn’t finished her earlier comment. “I’ve seen online that people don’t think highly of Shen Tang. She seems like a very self-centered girl.”

Li Zhen shot Jiang Cheng Yu a knowing glance, then stood up barefoot and squeezed herself between her grandparents on the couch. “Gossip isn’t reliable. If they didn’t say these things, where would the hype come from? How would they grab attention? The person I like wouldn’t be that bad.”

“Grandma, I’ve been following my mentor on a project lately, and sometimes I’m too busy to keep up. Remember to vote for Shen Tang every day, check in on her super topic. Oh, and sometimes you need to manage the comments.”

Grandma Jiang: “...”

“Grandma, give me your phone. I’ll follow Shen Tang for you first.”

Grandpa Jiang put down the pine nuts he hadn’t finished peeling. “You all chat. I’ll go check if the food is ready in the kitchen.” He was just making an excuse to leave, fearing his granddaughter would ask him to help with voting and comment management.

Jiang Cheng Yu smiled quietly, leaving all the peeled pine nuts he had prepared for his niece.

Finally, his affection for her paid off.

Outside, the rain continued to drizzle, unrelenting.

Like a background melody.

________________________________________

Meanwhile, in Shanghai, a crescent moon hung high in the sky.

Shen Tang drained the last sip of red wine in her glass and pulled the curtains shut.

She had just returned to her apartment from the evening banquet and hadn’t had time to change out of her clothes.

Her assistant was packing her suitcase—they were heading to Xiamen tomorrow.

They would stay in Xiamen for two days before going to Guangzhou for a business appearance.

This marked the end of all her scheduled appearances before starting filming.

“Tangtang, Sister Li told me to remind you not to forget to read the script.”

“Mm.”

Before leaving, the assistant moved the script from the coffee table by the window to the bedside table, said goodnight, and closed the door behind her.

Shen Tang glanced at the script—That Early Summer , an urban romance drama.

She had zero interest and took her pajamas to the bathroom.

This time in Shanghai, she hadn’t stayed in a hotel but in the apartment Jiang Cheng Yu had specially bought for her.

At night, she could enjoy the breeze on the terrace and admire the most dazzling cityscape.

The night view held no allure for her. What she missed was the apartment’s jacuzzi tub—no matter how bad her mood, soaking for half an hour always helped her relax.

When Jiang Cheng Yu had purchased the place at a high price, she had criticized him for wasting money.

Now, she couldn’t deny its value.

Sister Li’s call came right on schedule, cutting straight to the chase: “Have you read the script for That Early Summer ?”

Shen Tang replied bluntly: “No.”

Sister Li was puzzled. “I delivered the script to the villa last week when you returned to Beijing. You said you’d read it and get back to me. It’s been days—why haven’t you read it yet?”

“Not interested.”

“This is produced by Director Chen’s company—a big production. The director is Zhou Mingqian, a close friend of Chen Nanjin. Zhou Mingqian specializes in this genre. I’ve already read the script—it’s being filmed in Shenzhen, close to your grandfather’s house. You’ll even be able to visit him often. It’s practically tailored for you. Hurry up and read the script—you’re auditioning at the beginning of next month.”

Pausing momentarily, Sister Li seemed to realize why Shen Tang wasn’t interested in the script. “Are you worried about failing the audition?”

Many top actresses were eyeing this script, especially since it was produced by Zhou Mingqian’s team. Everyone wanted to leverage such projects to win awards.

Shen Tang wasn’t worried about failing the audition. She simply had no interest in the production company. Any TV or movie project related to Chen Nanjin or his company left her completely disinterested.

She hadn’t shared her personal reasons with Sister Li and let her assume the cause was fear of failing the audition.

Sister Li sighed. Shen Tang had risen to fame quickly thanks to her third drama, partly due to luck and her hard work. With the company’s intentional marketing and her knack for generating buzz, she had been inundated with offers, choosing scripts rather than auditioning for roles.

Sister Li had always thought Shen Tang was someone who knew what she wanted and didn’t care about pride or vanity.

Clearly, she had overestimated Shen Tang.

“Tangtang, you’re still young. Listen to me—even if you’re at the peak now, don’t get too full of yourself. You don’t know how long you’ll stay at the top. Someone might push you down at any moment.”

Her words were harsh but true.

Shen Tang responded perfunctorily: “Mm, I know.”

Her tone was dismissive, and Sister Li easily picked up on the subtext: “I know, but I just don’t want to audition.”

“Shen Tang, you need to understand that the company can’t always prioritize you. While you still have the chance, actively pursue opportunities. As an actress, your work speaks for itself—collaborate with quality teams. Even if our contract ends one day, I still hope you’ll go far. Don’t waste your talent.”

“Think it over. Get some rest.” Sister Li ended the call.

Shen Tang understood all the reasoning, but she couldn’t get past the emotional hurdle.

She slept restlessly that night, plagued by distressing dreams.

In one dream, she was a child, lying in the hospital after being injured by the boat anchor, crying and telling her grandfather that she missed her parents. In another, she was acting in a scene, and the director was none other than Chen Nanjin.

They shot the scene ten times, and it still didn’t pass. Chen Nanjin was yelling at her.

Everything felt so real she couldn’t tell if it was reality or a nightmare.

The vibration of her phone saved her.

Shen Tang opened her eyes, pulling herself out of the haze of dreams.

She reached for her phone—it was 5:30 in the morning, and the sky was still dark.

Jiang Cheng Yu had sent her a message—it was the first time he had reported his itinerary to her: [My flight is about to take off. Over the next ten-plus days, I’ll be visiting three countries. If you have an emergency and can’t reach me by phone, don’t panic. Contact Yan Heyu directly—he’ll handle anything.]