Chapter 3

Song Zhi sat on the couch, feeling sore all over—aching and weak.

The man seemed to have made up for the six months of absence all at once. There was none of his usual gentleness or elegance; he had been like a mad dog.

After finishing his shower, the “mad dog” emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, his upper body bare.

Hearing the sound, she shifted her gaze from her phone screen and stole a glance at his abs.

This man was terrifyingly disciplined. Despite his busy schedule, he always found time to work out.

Song Zhi couldn’t do that. She lost weight through dieting alone, and she hadn’t touched meat in six months.

She had long forgotten what meat tasted like.

With a dry towel draped over his wet hair, Jiang Yanzhou sat down beside her. “Go back to school next month.”

She blinked. “Back to school?”

His hair was already half-dry, falling smoothly over his forehead and covering his brow bone.

He looked softer than usual as he sat next to her. “You’ve had enough fun, haven’t you?”

So he had always thought she was just dabbling in the entertainment industry for fun.

Though Song Zhi had been kept by him, she wasn’t without her own thoughts and ambitions. She had plans of her own.

She wanted to save money—a lot of it.

“I’m not playing around. I’m serious.”

Her face was earnest as she spoke.

Jiang Yanzhou rarely saw such determination on her. Though the girl was cunning, she was still too naive. Her tricks were like those of a child in front of him.

She might have claws, but they were still too tender to hurt anyone.

After a moment, he nodded. “Is that so?”

His tone was dismissive.

As if to prove her efforts hadn’t been in vain, Song Zhi’s delicate face lit up with pride. “I won an award today—a major acting award. My agent even said I have talent. It’s my first drama, and I already won.”

“Talent?” Jiang Yanzhou chuckled softly, his voice low and mocking. “Fifty million.”

Song Zhi frowned. “What fifty million?”

He smirked coldly, like a ruthless executioner dismantling her fragile illusions. “That award cost fifty million.”

In the phone call earlier, Tang Xiaoyan had consoled her: “Don’t worry. At least others couldn’t afford it. You getting it is proof of your ability.”

But Song Zhi felt even more disheartened. “But I didn’t buy the award. It was Jiang Yanzhou.”

Tang Xiaoyan spoke with conviction: “What does it matter if he bought it? He doesn’t even qualify to be Best Actress. You, at the very least, have an advantage—you’re a woman, and you’re an actress.”

Song Zhi felt the conversation was veering off track. Jiang Yanzhou probably didn’t even want to be an actor.

“And besides, this is a win-win situation for you. Not only did you get the award, but you also gained attention. Even negative attention is still attention. Once the hype builds up, you can clean up your image later. You’ll emerge pure and untainted.”

Tang Xiaoyan ran a PR company and had handled countless image-cleaning campaigns for celebrities. She was a seasoned veteran in the field.

After her pep talk, Song Zhi did feel somewhat better. “So, do you think my acting is good?”

Tang Xiaoyan unleashed a torrent of flattery: “Absolutely amazing. Let me tell you, Jiang Yanzhou wasted his money. Even if he hadn’t paid, you’d still be the Best Actress.”

Song Zhi had been in the bathroom for two hours now. Aunt He, worried something might happen, stood outside waiting but didn’t dare go in.

Jiang Yanzhou had just finished a remote meeting in his study and returned to the bedroom when he saw Aunt He standing outside the bathroom.

“What’s going on?”

Aunt He hesitated, her expression troubled. “Zhi has been in there for two hours now. There hasn’t been any noise. I’m worried she might have had an accident.”

Two hours.

Jiang Yanzhou’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.

Since childhood, whenever Song Zhi was upset, she would find a place to hide. After all these years, she hadn’t changed one bit.

He knocked on the door, his voice sharp with impatience. “You have two minutes to come out.”

Less than a minute later, Song Zhi emerged.

Her eyes were red—she had clearly been crying.

Jiang Yanzhou knew her well. A single glance at the forced tears on her face told him exactly what she was planning.

Aunt He approached with concern. “Oh dear, why are you crying, my poor little thing?”

Song Zhi bit her lower lip, looking both wronged and resilient.

The picture of a stubborn white flower.

“I’m fine, Aunt He. Don’t blame Jiang Yanzhou—it’s not his fault. It’s my issue. It has nothing to do with him.”

Jiang Yanzhou: “….”

So, according to her, it did have something to do with him?

After Aunt He comforted her, she turned to Jiang Yanzhou with a stern expression. “Zhi is still just a child. If she makes mistakes, you should teach her patiently. Why be so harsh?”

Though Aunt He was a servant of the Jiang household, she had worked there for over twenty years and had practically watched Jiang Yanzhou grow up.

Jiang Yanzhou respected her deeply.

He listened patiently to her scolding, then nodded, his voice gentle. “Don’t worry. I’ll comfort her properly.”

Aunt He relaxed a little. “Then I’ll head downstairs now.”

She looked at Song Zhi with affection. “If you’re hungry, let me know. I’ll make you some late-night snacks.”

Song Zhi wiped her tears and smiled. “Thank you, Aunt He.”

After Aunt He left, the room fell silent. Jiang Yanzhou didn’t speak, and Song Zhi didn’t dare say anything either.

She could only stand there, occasionally glancing up, only to meet Jiang Yanzhou’s piercing gaze.

Life in high society was full of complications. Jiang Yanzhou had grown up in an environment of scheming and power struggles, and years in the business world had honed his decisiveness and ruthlessness.

No matter how well-mannered he appeared, Song Zhi still felt a twinge of fear toward him.

Time ticked by slowly. He casually pulled over a chair and sat down in front of her. “Tell me, how did I bully you?”

Song Zhi had been with Jiang Yanzhou long enough to understand his preferences inside out.

She knew what type of woman he liked and what he couldn’t resist.

Blinking three times, obedient tears began to flow.

Song Zhi sniffled, wiping her tears with a mix of pitifulness, grievance, and stubbornness. “I just want to show you through my own efforts that I’m different from those superficial women who chase wealth.”

What a perfect Mary Sue romance novel heroine—untainted by the muck and untouched by corruption.

Jiang Yanzhou had watched bits of her TV drama during his free time.

He hadn’t lasted more than ten minutes.

If only Song Zhi had applied even a fraction of the acting skills she used in front of him to her performances, she wouldn’t have ended up with such a disaster.

That award? Song Zhi hadn’t even qualified for a nomination. The organizers had simply sought to curry favor with Jiang Yanzhou by giving her the prize.

Rarely one to resort to such tactics, Jiang Yanzhou had surprisingly accepted this gesture.

A fifty-million contract, signed with just a nod of his head.

The young girl seemed genuinely heartbroken, crying until she gagged.

Even while wiping her tears, she didn’t forget to steal glances at him, adjusting the intensity of her tears based on his expressions.

If he remained unmoved, she cried harder. If his expression softened, she toned it down to appear more pitiful.

Men, after all, required tailored approaches.

Jiang Yanzhou waited silently as she cried for over ten minutes, then asked, “Are you done crying?”

She immediately stopped. “Yes, I’m done.”

He nodded. “Good. Come here.”

Song Zhi obediently approached.

He was still wearing his formal attire from the meeting—blue-and-black striped tie, every button fastened meticulously.

Perhaps Jiang Yanzhou didn’t realize it, but Song Zhi loved seeing him in a suit.

It gave her a strange sense of security.

She remembered the first time she saw him in formal wear.

A seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth, tall and upright, slender but not frail.

He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his hair cropped short, his skin fair. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes drooped slightly.

Nowadays, he still smiled occasionally—but it was either mocking or threatening, devoid of sincerity.

Yet no matter how much he changed, Song Zhi still adored seeing him in a suit. It made her feel safe.

Once Song Zhi reached him, he took the handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her to wipe her tears. “Do you feel wronged?”

Her voice trembled as she sniffled, but she shook her head firmly. “No, I’m not.”

Jiang Yanzhou wasn’t someone who enjoyed comforting others—it was too much trouble.

He nodded. “Good. As long as you’re not wronged.”

Song Zhi held the gray handkerchief he had given her.

He always kept it in the left breast pocket of his suit—the closest to his heart.

The girl fell silent, lost in thought.

Jiang Yanzhou tilted his chin slightly. “Untie my tie for me.”

Song Zhi responded with a soft “Oh” and moved to undo his tie.

The Windsor knot wasn’t tight, and Song Zhi easily loosened it. After all these years, she had tied countless ties for Jiang Yanzhou and was very skilled.

She handed the tie back to him, a hint of pride in her voice. “I learned a new way to tie a tie online recently.”

He nodded, uninterested. “Is that so?”

She grew increasingly excited, as though this was a remarkable achievement. “I practiced for a long time. I’ll tie it for you tomorrow.”

Jiang Yanzhou responded indifferently, his gaze fixed on the tie in his hand.

His eyes darkened slightly, tinged with desire.

Song Zhi couldn’t wait until tomorrow and was about to offer to tie it for him right then, but before she could speak, she was enveloped in a warm embrace.

Then, her hands were bound—not with something particularly soft, but with a fabric that carried a faint warmth, tightening slowly.

In a serious tone, he whispered something shockingly vulgar: “Save your tears. Cry when it’s time to cry.”