SY - 23

Director Luo naturally picked up on the displeasure in Jiang Yan Zhou’s tone but couldn’t quite figure out where it stemmed from or why.

This place belonged to Jiang Yan Zhou, so his presence here was justified.

Could it be that he was worried they were shooting a pornographic film on his property?

Director Luo chuckled: “Rest assured, this is an art house film aimed at winning awards. The extent isn’t too much. You know how strict things are these days—even our bed scenes are shot with body doubles.”

The cigarette box in his hand was crushed, his knuckles pressing hard into the dented surface.

With a slight lift of his brow ridge, Jiang Yan Zhou’s gaze landed on Song Zhi, who was attentively listening to the assistant director explain the scene.

Rarely did she ever look so serious.

Even during their intimate moments in bed, Song Zhi would still find the energy to crack crude jokes. Yet here she was, fully focused on her work.

That spoiled golden canary could also become earnest when pursuing her dreams.

The cold wind arrived without warning, and Song Zhi’s voice grew icy: “Bed scenes?”

Director Luo felt a chill run down his spine—perhaps it was the cold wind at play.

He had said so much, yet Jiang Yan Zhou fixated solely on the mention of bed scenes.

“The theme of our film revolves around redemption—the mutual salvation of two unfortunate souls from different fates. The core idea is to portray a sense…”

Jiang Yan Zhou clearly had no interest in hearing his long-winded explanation, lazily lifting an eyelid: “Redemption… in bed?”

Having spent decades navigating the industry, Director Luo was adept at reading people.

Now, he finally understood. Jiang Yan Zhou didn’t care what kind of film was being shot on his property.

Even if they were filming softcore films or transgender-themed movies, he wouldn’t bat an eye.

The only focal point seemed to be…

Director Luo’s eyes landed on Song Zhi, who was humbly accepting advice from the assistant director.

She leaned forward slightly, examining the playback on the camera monitor. The thin straps of her dress accentuated her slender waist, almost fragile enough to snap with a single touch.

There was something unique about her—an unmatched malleability.

No matter what role you asked her to play, she would always deliver unexpected surprises.

This adaptability shone brilliantly when applied to a complex character like Sheng Yan.

The assistant director suggested that brushing against the ankle alone was too conservative, especially for close-up shots—it lacked detail and failed to convey the sensuality hidden beneath Sheng Yan’s refined exterior.

“I think we should change it from just brushing the ankle to slowly moving upward along the leg. This will maximize the contrast in the character.”

After considering the suggestion,

Song Zhi nodded, finding it reasonable.

And so, they began reshooting the new version of the scene.

Song Zhi sat back down, smoothing out her skirt.

Opposite her, Ji Song quickly slipped into character, nervously gripping the tablecloth with his left hand.

He glanced at Song Zhi, his ears reddening naturally without any acting required.

Director Luo’s casting criterion was simple: alignment with the character. In real life, Ji Song was exceptionally shy.

Since they were only filming a close-up of the action under the table, while Ji Song blushed uncontrollably, Song Zhi remained calm and collected.

Her delicate foot slowly traveled upward along his ankle, causing a tingling sensation.

Tang Bai instinctively wanted to pull away but found himself unable to resist the strange allure, unwilling to part from the contact.

This subtle touch was like poison.

Even knowing its toxicity, one couldn’t help but become addicted.

Jiang Yan Zhou’s gaze remained fixed on the woman’s ascending foot. The rigid cigarette box in his hand became distorted, the paper wrapping tearing under the force of his grip.

The reshoot concluded.

Song Zhi politely thanked the crew: “You’ve all worked hard.”

The assistant director clapped as he approached: “That take was excellent. The movements and force were just right.”

Of course, it was perfect—she’d used this move countless times on Jiang Yan Zhou.

She simply wanted to see how he would react once his composed mask cracked, revealing the restrained emotions beneath.

Though Sheng Yan’s character was seductive, the script only allowed them to go as far as the calf. Anything higher, and the film might not pass censorship.

In real life, however, things were far more stimulating.

Jiang Yan Zhou possessed impeccable manners—silent during meals and sleep, completely unfazed by Song Zhi’s provocations.

Like a soulless robot.

Only occasionally, when she accidentally brushed against a certain spot, would he pause momentarily.

Often, the next day, Song Zhi would physically experience the consequences of such actions.

Xu, Song Zhi’s number one flatterer, always rushed over after she finished a scene to shower her with exaggerated praise.

Though Song Zhi wasn’t particularly bright, she wasn’t stupid enough to mistake genuine compliments from false ones.

On their previous project, rushed production and poor craftsmanship led to near-universal failure among the cast.

But this time, Xu genuinely believed Song Zhi’s performance was outstanding.

Not too much, not too little—she embodied Sheng Yan perfectly.

He handed her a freshly filled thermos: “Sister Song Zhi, your performance just now was incredible. So seductive yet pure. Ji Song was so flustered by your teasing that he couldn’t even look at you.”

When it came to her own charm, Song Zhi never bothered with humility.

She accepted the thermos, unscrewed the cap, and sipped through a straw.

To avoid smudging her makeup, she always drank through a straw while working.

“Such sweet words. Shouldn’t I reward you properly?”

At her words, Xu immediately sprang into action, offering massages and back rubs: “It’s my honor to serve you. How dare I ask for anything? But if you could extend my vacation by three or four days this year, I’d worship you like a deity in my family shrine.”

Song Zhi frowned. His words made her uneasy.

She stood up, wrapping her coat around herself: “After this shoot wraps, I’ll give you a half-month holiday.”

Xu’s eyes welled up with tears: “Thank you, living Buddha.”

The “living Buddha” flipped her long hair, lacking any semblance of solemnity, instead resembling a seductive demoness luring Tang Sanzang.

“Tomorrow morning, don’t forget to bring me some fried dumplings from Cailin Ji.”

As the saying goes, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

The first day of filming ended successfully, putting Song Zhi in a good mood. She decided to treat herself.

Seemingly afraid she might forget, Xu reminded her: “Are we still going for barbecue and drinks later?”

She had completely forgotten about it.

“Of course we’re going. Why wouldn’t we?”

________________________________________

Her first encounter with alcohol was during her second year of high school.

She had returned to the town with her grandmother. Unlike He Shi, this small place was backward, with low levels of both consumption and culture.

One day, a tall, beautiful girl transferred into their class, causing quite a stir in the small town.

Unfortunately, the girl rarely spoke or smiled, treating everyone with icy indifference.

She often stared blankly into space, and over time, rumors spread that there was something wrong with her mind.

Some delinquent girls even harassed her, calling her names and accusing her of seducing others.

Pretty girls seemed to attract undue attention.

Song Zhi remained silent.

Her silence was interpreted as disdain, leading to her being slapped.

Later, her grandmother noticed the handprint on her face and personally went to the delinquent girl’s home, armed with a broom, causing a scene until the girl apologized.

Though old, her grandmother insisted on standing up for her granddaughter.

Her granddaughter had already suffered enough—losing her parents and now being bullied by these people.

That night, her grandmother held Song Zhi’s hand and spoke at length.

For example: “Grandma will always protect our little Zhi.”

And: “Our little Zhi must hurry and return to being the lively, smiling, delicate girl she once was. Only then will your parents rest peacefully in heaven.”

That night, her grandmother poured her half a glass of beer.

“Drinking helps you forget unhappy things. Our little Zhi is destined for happiness. Having endured hardships early, the rest of your life will be blessed.”

That night, Song Zhi got her grandmother drunk, yet she herself remained sober.

After helping her grandmother to bed, she sat on a wicker chair in the courtyard, gazing at the stars.

Silently, she vowed never to let anyone hurt her again.

She couldn’t let her grandmother worry.

________________________________________

Aside from the time she accidentally mixed various alcohols and ended up hospitalized for alcohol poisoning, Song Zhi had never messed up while drinking.

Holding her clothes, she prepared to step into the car to change.

After taking just two steps, she sensed something amiss—a relentless chill emanating from her side.

Glancing up, she realized someone was standing in the shadows.

Though dressed impeccably, his aura exuded an infuriating coldness and detachment.

Jiang Yan Zhou seemed to possess a natural ability to provoke anger.

Even without uttering a word, his mere presence fueled Song Zhi’s growing rage.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall: “Oh, look who’s here. Our perpetually busy CEO Jiang finally has time to visit us lowly workers?”

Unfazed by her provocation, Jiang Yan Zhou remained indifferent.

Her biting sarcasm felt as harmless as tickling him with a feather.

This left Song Zhi with an inexplicable sense of defeat.

Undeterred, she smirked: “Could it be you’re interested in experiencing the entertainment industry?”

Even seasoned Director Luo began to suck in cold air.

Clearly, Song Zhi shared a complicated relationship with this man.

But this little golden canary seemed to overestimate her importance. Young girls today thought themselves special after receiving a bit of affection.

They didn’t realize that those born into elite families could turn on you faster than flipping a book.

While movie plots might seem exaggerated, art often imitated life—and sometimes exceeded it.

Seeing Jiang Yan Zhou’s slightly raised brow ridge, his emotions unreadable, Director Luo felt a pang of anxiety, fearing Song Zhi’s arrogance might offend the man before them.

God forbid the film wasn’t finished and the female lead got blacklisted.

Given the Jiang family’s current status, anyone they blacklisted would never appear in front of a camera again.

Cupping his mouth, Director Luo coughed loudly, hoping to subtly warn Song Zhi.

But her stubborn brain couldn’t possibly comprehend such veiled hints.

Determined to provoke Jiang Yan Zhou further, she continued: “Our handsome CEO Jiang looks so exquisite—he might even find a suitable role in the red-light district. Perhaps as the top gigolo?”

Before her words even faded, Director Luo felt his heart nearly stop.

Did this girl have any idea who she was talking to? Truly fearless like a newborn calf.

Upon hearing her final remark, Jiang Yan Zhou’s expression finally shifted. He furrowed his brows, his voice hoarse: “Red-light district?”

Thinking he was upset about transforming this place into a red-light district, Director Luo hastily explained: “This part of the plot isn’t heavy. We only need a few scenes set here.”

Jiang Yan Zhou seemed uninterested in his explanation. Recalling Song Zhi’s earlier provocative actions, he naturally misinterpreted the situation.

His expression darkened further.

To express her dissatisfaction, Song Zhi rolled her eyes skyward. Just as her eyes began twitching from exhaustion, she snorted and walked away.

What a worthless dog of a man, trying to delay her barbecue and drinks.

The nearby barbecue stall had seen fewer customers recently due to impending demolition news.

The biggest advantage? No waiting in line.

Xu handed out chopsticks one by one: “I used to attend middle school around here. Every day, I’d come here for barbecue before heading home.”

Song Zhi: “….”

Xu: “Sister Song Zhi, did you eat barbecue as a child?”

Song Zhi: “….”

Xu: “Probably not much. Barbecue is greasy, and young girls are afraid it’ll cause breakouts.”

Song Zhi: “….”

When the owner arrived with a menu so worn the plastic coating was curling, Song Zhi glared at the elegant, aloof man beside her: “May I ask why you followed us here? To experience commoner life?”

The owner, clearly a sucker for good looks, bypassed Xu’s eager gaze and handed the menu directly to Jiang Yan Zhou, who sat furthest out.

Smiling flirtatiously: “Young sir, feel free to order whatever you like. Big sister will give you a 50% discount.”

Ignoring Song Zhi’s question, Jiang Yan Zhou accepted the menu and quietly thanked her.

After a quick glance, he ordered several light vegetarian dishes.

The owner beamed: “Such great taste. You’ve chosen all our signature dishes.”

Xu frowned: “Owner, aren’t your signatures usually skewers?”

The owner’s demeanor shifted instantly, patting his shoulder: “Can’t I change it now?”

“…Sure.”

After Xu took the menu, he and Xia Wanyue went on a frenzy of ordering.

Today, Song Zhi was treating, so they indulged without restraint.

Xia Wanyue also ordered a dozen bottles of Snowflake beer: “Make sure they’re ice-cold.”

The owner responded and disappeared into the kitchen, soon returning with several complimentary appetizers.

Before Song Zhi could thank her, the owner placed them in front of Jiang Yan Zhou with a radiant smile: “This is big sister’s gift to you.”

After a brief silence, Jiang Yan Zhou murmured his thanks.

Xu: “….”

This double standard was ridiculous.

He was a regular customer here. In the past, the complimentary appetizers were nothing more than a small plate of pickles.

Yet now, for Jiang Yan Zhou, they practically served him a feast fit for royalty).

Truly, this was an ugly, appearance-obsessed world.

Not long after, the beer arrived.

Xia Wanyue skillfully opened four bottles, handing one to each person.

Concerned about her image, Song Zhi decided to pour hers into a glass.

Fresh from the fridge, condensation dripped from the bottle neck.

No sooner had Song Zhi taken it than, within two seconds, Jiang Yan Zhou snatched it away. Frowning, he said: “Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet.”

Song Zhi exhaled deeply, finally reaching her limit: “What exactly do you want from me today?”

Jiang Yan Zhou placed the beer out of Song Zhi’s reach and asked: “Why did you go to the hospital that day?”

So this was a post-mortem reckoning.

“What I do at the hospital has nothing to do with you, does it?”

Jiang Yan Zhou paused thoughtfully: “He’s my…”

He didn’t finish the sentence but emphasized: “It’s related.”

“He’s yours?”

Song Zhi’s slow brain took a few extra seconds to process his half-spoken words before finally piecing together the relationship.

Damn. Even after breaking up, he was still plotting behind her back, siccing a dog on her.