YABE - 6

Wen Siyu watched as Jiang Xu stared at her, momentarily straightening his posture after she had smiled at him.

He seemed genuinely surprised.

Her overactive imagination went into overdrive. Did he think she was trying to cozy up to him?

A second later, he slumped back into his carefree, unguarded posture, lazily returning her smile as if his earlier pause had been nothing more than her imagination.

Wen Siyu: “….”

He smiled at her again…

Heeheeheeheehee.

Wen Siyu had initially thought that Jiang Xu’s presence would distract her.

But it didn’t. On set, the pace was frantic, like a battlefield, especially for an assistant director who had to handle all sorts of miscellaneous tasks.

Throughout the afternoon, she remained in the same high-speed whirlwind of activity as the morning, leaving her no time to check where Jiang Xu was. Occasionally, during brief moments of downtime, she stole cautious glances at him and noticed him staring blankly into space, lost in thought.

It wasn’t until evening approached, with the sky painted in fiery hues of orange and pink, that they finally wrapped up for the day.

Returning to the hotel with the crew, Wen Siyu collapsed onto her bed, utterly drained.

Her first day of internship left her feeling as though her arms and legs no longer belonged to her.

The second day followed the same pattern.

Thankfully, they only filmed during the day, wrapping up by three in the afternoon. After packing up, a few crew members suggested going out since they had finished early. Having worked closely together for two days—and being roughly the same age as Wen Siyu—they had grown familiar with one another and eagerly invited her along.

Recalling the horrors of women shopping (and considering how much walking she’d already done these past two days—more than the entire previous summer), the usually homebound gamer/streamer politely declined their enthusiastic invitation, opting instead to return to the hotel and sleep.

After tidying up her scripts, schedules, and other materials, she neatly organized the clutter on her desk before preparing to leave.

Just as she raised her head, she saw a man standing by the table, arms crossed.

The tie he had asked her to choose between yesterday now hung loosely around his collar, and his police uniform was draped over his arm. He stood tall, looking down at her with an icy expression.

“…”

Wen Siyu: “Teacher Gu?”

“Hmm.” Gu Hengan gave a nonchalant hum, extending his long arm and tapping his knuckles on the table. “I left my script here earlier.”

Wen Siyu glanced at the neatly stacked pile she had just organized and immediately realized what he meant. She quickly apologized: “Sorry, Teacher Gu, I didn’t know you left your script here. Let me help you find it.” As she spoke, she moved the tall stack closer to sift through it. “Did you write your name on your script, Teacher Gu?”

“No.”

Wen Siyu smiled. “Ah, that’s okay. Scripts are thick—I’ll look for it.” Gu Hengan continued tapping the table rhythmically, watching her without saying a word.

The girl searched carefully, flipping through each page meticulously. The thick stack dwindled to its last few sheets—just some scheduling forms. There was no extra script to be found.

Wen Siyu looked up, meeting his cold gaze. “Teacher Gu, I couldn’t find your script here. Could you have left it somewhere else?”

The man drawled, “I didn’t leave it anywhere else. I left it right here.”

“…Could you think about it again?”

Gu Hengan’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t I know where I put my own things?”

By now, most of the crew had left, and his slightly raised voice echoed clearly in the quiet space.

Wen Siyu began to suspect that this senior of hers, Gu Hengan, might actually be here to cause trouble.

Frowning, she pulled her own script from the stack and handed it to him. “Since we can’t find yours for now, why don’t you use mine, Teacher Gu?”

Gu Hengan instinctively wanted to say, “No, I want my own.”

Gu Hengan, in his past life, had been the quintessential spoiled rich kid—useless, indulging in gambling, clubbing, and chasing women.

But just when his parents had given up hope on him, something sparked a change.

Suddenly, he stopped gambling, abandoned nightlife, and broke off relationships.

With newfound determination, he focused entirely on his studies, aspiring to enter the entertainment industry and become a shining star—all without relying on his family’s connections. He vowed to conquer the world with his looks and talent alone.

Moreover, he openly expressed disdain for those who relied on shortcuts or connections to succeed in the industry.

But this Wen Siyu…

Upon reflection, Gu Hengan felt perplexed.

She hadn’t clung to anyone influential, nor had she taken advantage of her position. All she did was work tirelessly as an intern, running around like crazy these past two days. What exactly irritated him so much?

Yet, seeing her obediently doing every menial task with such enthusiasm made him inexplicably annoyed.

He wanted to provoke her.

He wanted to see her flustered, stammering apologies.

What was wrong with him…

Gu Hengan glared at her in silence for a long moment.

The script was thick, and Wen Siyu’s arm began to ache from holding it up for so long.

Finally, the man sighed, deflating as he reached out to take the script she offered.

“What’s your name?”

“…Wen Siyu.”

“Oh.” Flipping through the pages absentmindedly, he asked, “And you and Director Li…?”

“…He’s a friend of my dad’s.”

“Oh.”

Gu Hengan scratched his temple, making a soft noise of acknowledgment. Then, with a snap, he closed the script and turned to leave.

His silhouette was backlit, making his features indistinct. All she could see was him raising a hand dismissively. “Thanks.” His voice, contrary to his prickly demeanor, was clear and pleasant.

Wen Siyu: “….”

At least he knew to say thank you. That was enlightening.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, gathered her things, and prepared to leave. The crew’s van had definitely already departed, so she’d have to take a taxi back to the hotel.

Standing by the roadside, she stretched onto her tiptoes to scan the traffic ahead, concluding that hailing a taxi might be hopeless. She lowered her head, pulling out her phone to open a ride-hailing app when the window of a nearby nanny van slowly rolled down.

Jiang Xu’s handsome face appeared.

“Miss Wen, what a coincidence.”

Wen Siyu: “….”

Not quite understanding the deeper meaning behind his words, the girl gave a slight bow and addressed him politely: “Teacher Jiang, you’re still here?”

Jiang Xu hummed in response: “Waiting for my agent. He hasn’t been around for a few days and took hours to find the set today.”

On the passenger seat, Zhou Yi, who had just returned, snorted softly and rolled his eyes discreetly.

Jiang Xu pretended not to notice and continued: “Heading back to the hotel?”

Wen Siyu nodded.

“The van must’ve already left, right?”

The girl waved her phone: “I was just about to call a car.”

Click. The man unlocked the van door and opened it. “Get in.”

“…Huh?” Blinking, she didn’t react immediately.

“Get in. I’m heading back to the hotel too. I’ll give you a ride.”

Zhou Yi scoffed loudly this time.

Wen Siyu felt uneasy, instinctively wanting to decline but also sensing that refusing might seem even more awkward.

Besides, her idol had personally opened the car door for her…

Her heart skipped a beat. Gratefully, she thanked him and gingerly climbed inside.

Jiang Xu’s assistant was driving, while a man Wen Siyu hadn’t seen before—presumably his agent—sat in the front passenger seat. Jiang Xu sat beside her in the back.

The car moved smoothly along the road. Silence filled the cabin, growing increasingly awkward.

Jiang Xu sat next to her, resting his chin as he gazed out the window, appearing deep in thought.

Wen Siyu felt even more nervous.

Noticing her discomfort, Zhou Yi broke the silence to ease the tension. Turning around, he smiled warmly at Wen Siyu: “Miss Wen, are you part of the crew?”

Wen Siyu nodded, then added: “I’m still in school. I’m interning as an assistant director on set.”

Zhou Yi nodded knowingly, about to continue when Jiang Xu shot him a sharp glance. Zhou Yi promptly shut up—or so it seemed.

Instead, ignoring the warning glare, he cheerfully pressed on: “Miss Wen seems quite close to our Ah Xu. You wouldn’t believe it, but this guy is so obsessed with maintaining his image in public. In private, though, he’s incredibly willful. Strangers barely get a word out of him, let alone a ride.”

Jiang Xu: “….”

Wen Siyu forced a dry laugh, thinking about how Jiang Xu had lounged around on set with zero regard for his image…

Finally unable to bear being described as “image-obsessed” and “willful,” Jiang Xu turned to Wen Siyu.

“You didn’t finish what you were saying last time.”

The girl blinked at him, confused.

“In the elevator the other day—you said Eternal Life was your favorite.” Jiang Xu patiently explained, his voice resonating softly in the quiet car. “You never finished telling me why.”

Wen Siyu remembered their conversation from a few days ago in the elevator.

She had assumed he’d forgotten everything they discussed, casually engaging her in polite small talk because they happened to share the same ride.

Caught off guard, Jiang Xu waited patiently, resting his chin as he tilted his head to look at her. Slowly, he repeated: “So… why is it your favorite?”