SY - 38

Song Zhi seemed not to have heard clearly what he said. She tucked her hair behind her ear, leaned her upper body closer to him: “What did you just say?”

As the distance suddenly closed, Jiang Yan Zhou caught a whiff of her fragrance.

Everything seemed so familiar.

She was still that Song Zhi who liked to wrap her arms around his neck and act coquettishly.

His gaze darkened slightly as Song Zhi’s long hair slipped through his fingers.

The soft touch made his breathing momentarily heavier, though he tried to suppress it.

But...

Jiang Yan Zhou pulled her slender waist and brought her into his embrace.

Like a blind man wandering into a rose garden, enticed by the overwhelming scent, knowing well the thorns but unable to resist.

Song Zhi seemed quite satisfied with this warm and broad embrace, feeling secure.

She slightly raised her eyelashes, looking at him with an ambiguous smile: “Do you want to sleep with Sister?”

When drunk, the true colors of a lecherous wolf were revealed.

She licked her dry lips, her hand resting on his shoulder slowly moving downward.

Her world revolved around him.

Song Zhi, experienced in these matters, knew well where Jiang Yan Zhou’s sensitive spots were.

Those delicate and tender hands, which could only carry designer bags, now had the usually high-and-mighty man losing control.

Song Zhi seemed pleased with his current state: “I haven’t even done anything yet, and you’re already feeling it?”

Even when drunk out of her mind, she remained her usual flirtatious self.

Jiang Yan Zhou panted heavily, his lower abdomen burning with heat. The last shred of rationality supported him to carry Song Zhi back to the room.

Song Zhi, drunk and restless, complained after Jiang Yan Zhou removed her shoes, stretching her feet towards him: “Where are my Valentino shoes?”

Through his T-shirt, Jiang Yan Zhou could feel how cold her feet were.

“They’re at the entrance.” He covered her with a blanket, “Sleep first.”

Song Zhi blinked, watching him turn to leave: “Aren’t you going to sleep with Sister?”

Jiang Yan Zhou looked at her face for a moment: “I’ll go to the bathroom first. I’ll be back in a moment.”

People with restraint rarely lose their composure entirely.

Even overwhelmed by desire, he maintained enough clarity.

It took some time to manage his needs. By the time he came out, Song Zhi had already fallen asleep.

Only in sleep did she appear so peaceful.

She seemed forever proud, even when living in a backward town with her grandmother; she never showed any sign of misery or inferiority.

Only those who grew up in a loving environment could possess such confidence.

Jiang Yan Zhou quietly watched her.

Fortunately, his little girl had grown up in a loving environment.

Sunlight seeped through the cracks in the curtains. Song Zhi sat up, holding her heavy head, feeling as if someone had beaten her up last night.

Qin He was preparing breakfast in the living room. Seeing Song Zhi awake, he brought out the freshly warmed milk: “Sit for a bit, it’ll be ready soon.”

She felt like all the bones in her body were about to fall apart, making walking an extremely painful task.

“Why are you up so early?”

He smiled: “Not early. Song Luo woke up at six.”

He originally worried that Song Luo, having drunk so much, wouldn’t wake up today.

So he bought some groceries early in the morning to make them breakfast. But as soon as he arrived, he saw Song Luo leaving for a morning run.

Song Zhi sipped the milk. It seemed prison wasn’t without its benefits.

At least it corrected his devilish schedule.

She asked Qin He: “Don’t you have work?”

Qin He was pouring sauce over the pasta: “I’ve taken a few days off from the law firm. Besides teaching at Jing University tomorrow afternoon, I’m free the rest of the time.”

Song Zhi widened her eyes admiringly: “You teach at Jing University? It’s right next to our school. Take me there sometime to broaden my horizons. I’ve heard it’s full of geniuses, and I’ve never seen what a genius looks like.”

He chuckled, bringing out the pasta: “Don’t you see Jiang Yan Zhou every day?”

Hearing the name “Jiang Yan Zhou,” Song Zhi’s interest waned significantly: “Geniuses aren’t necessarily like him.”

Qin He seemed to recall seriously: “From my experience, Jiang Yan Zhou is indeed the best-looking among all the geniuses I’ve met.”

“Then forget it.”

Her curiosity about geniuses completely vanished, and Song Zhi obediently lowered her head to eat her pasta.

Fragments of memories from her blackout lingered. She vaguely remembered Jiang Yan Zhou carrying her back to the room.

As for what happened afterward, she couldn’t remember clearly.

Her fork circled the plate, winding the pasta. Song Zhi furrowed her brows slightly.

Could it be that Jiang Yan Zhou took advantage of her while she was drunk?

Song Zhi instantly imagined a scene of a weak, drunken young woman being violated by her ex-boyfriend.

However, although Jiang Yan Zhou lusted after her body, he wouldn’t do such a thing.

She needed to get to the set early today. After hastily eating a few bites, Song Zhi left.

“Brother Qin He, I’m leaving.”

Song Luo and Song Zhi had different tastes in food, so Qin He prepared their breakfasts separately.

He was currently making Song Luo’s portion. Hearing Song Zhi’s words, he came out of the kitchen, about to take off his apron: “I’ll drive you.”

Song Zhi changed into her long-awaited pair of Valentinos, which had just arrived yesterday. She had pre-ordered them over a month ago; they weren’t available in domestic boutiques yet.

“No need, the car’s already downstairs.”

Xiao Xu had been diligent lately, waking earlier than chickens and sleeping later than pigs.

Xia Wanyue originally planned to find another personal assistant for Song Zhi.

After all, she was different now, constantly appearing in features.

If life and work weren’t separated, Xia Wanyue feared Xiao Xu might not handle everything alone.

Song Zhi also felt Xiao Xu had worked hard recently, so she agreed to Xia Wanyue’s suggestion.

At this moment, she shed tears of regret staring at the limited-edition bag on her phone.

Being unable to buy what she wanted despite having money—what cruel tragedy was this?

Director Luo didn’t give her time to wallow in sorrow, coldly announcing: “We’re starting.”

Song Zhi sighed, put down her phone, and walked over.

Today’s shoot was still the scene of jumping into the sea. After mistakenly believing the male lead got the female supporting actress pregnant, the protagonist loses hope in the world and decides to end her life in the ocean.

Although yesterday’s shooting passed, they needed to reshoot a few more shots today.

Even though it was summer, the seawater was still bone-chillingly cold.

The hangover effects still lingered, and after repeatedly entering and exiting the sea several times, Song Zhi felt like her entire body was thrown into a furnace.

Her whole body burned scarily.

Xiao Xu feared she would catch a cold and stood nearby with a towel the entire time.

Shivering, Song Zhi emerged from the water. Xiao Xu quickly went over, covering her with a jacket while simultaneously grabbing a towel to dry her wet hair.

Perhaps sensing something amiss with Song Zhi, Director Luo kindly let her rest in the car for a while.

After all, if the female lead fell ill, the progress of the drama would slow down.

Song Zhi returned to the car to change out of her wet clothes and held a cup of ginger tea to ward off the cold.

She was utterly exhausted.

In the past, even if Jiang Yan Zhou had tormented her half to death, she would still bounce back energetically the next day to attend appointments.

Now, just jumping into the sea a few times left her catching a cold and running a fever.

During lunchtime, Song Zhi didn’t have much appetite and casually ordered a few home-cooked dishes.

Xiao Xu searched around but found nothing.

They were by the seaside, very remote, mostly visited by tourists from other places.

Song Zhi couldn’t stand the taste of the local street vendors’ food.

She was picky, and her lack of appetite due to the cold made her nauseous at the smell of roadside stalls.

Repeated use of oil and machines caked with years of grime.

Even starving, she couldn’t bring herself to eat.

She could only sip ginger tea to fill her stomach.

Xiao Xu watched this very principled, delicate young lady with a bit of a headache.

She was already sick. If she didn’t eat, he really feared she might faint on the spot.

She was naturally frail.

Seeing Xiao Xu’s concern, she said: “I’m actually not very hungry.”

The ginger tea made her even hotter, so she simply put down the cup.

To maintain her figure, she strictly controlled her meals in recent years, eating only until she was three-tenths full.

She was used to hunger.

Song Zhi yawned, wanting to take a short nap.

Her head felt unbearably heavy, her eyes barely opening.

Wrapping herself in a blanket, she told Xiao Xu to go eat first: “I’ll sleep a bit longer.”

Though reluctant, Xiao Xu could only nod: “If you feel unwell, remember to call me.”

“Mm.”

After Xiao Xu left, Song Zhi reclined her seat and quickly fell asleep.

However, this sleep wasn’t peaceful. Having a cold and fever wasn’t easy.

And this little canary had been pampered for so many years, unable to lift or carry anything.

The heaviest thing she ever carried was a Gucci chain bag.

Though she was spoiled at home, her parents were relatively strict with her, always emphasizing independence.

Later, when she was with Jiang Yan Zhou, though his personality was somewhat aloof, he always prioritized her.

Even during rainy days, several people followed behind her with umbrellas.

Over time, she became as delicate as tofu.

No matter how many times Song Zhi jumped into the sea, Jiang Yan Zhou jumped the same number of times and still managed to pull her out.

He endured more hardship than Song Zhi, yet he didn’t catch a cold.

There was indeed a difference between dieting and exercising.

In her hazy consciousness, Song Zhi thought that once she recovered from this illness, she would definitely hire a personal trainer,

and exercise properly.

She didn’t want to die before turning thirty.

At least she should outlive Jiang Yan Zhou.

________________________________________

Warm air filled the car. Her clothes were soaked with cold sweat, and her throat felt terribly dry.

In her daze, the cool sensation on her forehead slightly alleviated her discomfort.

She smelled a pleasant aroma and opened her eyes.

Just waking up, her vision was still blurry.

She could only faintly see a man wearing a white shirt, his superior shoulder and neck lines, and the hem of his shirt slightly wrinkling with his movements.

No matter what he did, he seemed to exude nobility.

Even now, as he diligently tested the water temperature.

His sleeves were rolled up twice, and she recognized the black Piaget watch on his wrist.

Song Zhi, who identified people by their watches, propped herself up on the seat with difficulty: “Why are you here?”

Her voice, hoarse even to her own ears, startled her when it came out.

Jiang Yan Zhou saw she was awake and brought over a glass of water and cold medicine: “Take your medicine.”

Song Zhi seemed not to hear his words, completely immersed in the sadness of her now hoarse and unpleasant voice.

She lamented with three painful questions: “Wuwuwu, why does my voice sound so bad? Will I never be able to sing again? Will my fans abandon me because of this?”

Jiang Yan Zhou thought she was worrying unnecessarily.

He had listened to her songs.

When her group released their first album, it only sold a few thousand copies.

Debuting to obscurity, they were mocked endlessly.

Originally, the company hyped them as the hottest female group domestically, but the sales of their debut album were disastrously unexpected.

Online, it was almost all cold and sarcastic comments.

Later, within a single day, album sales skyrocketed by three zeros.

And all were bought by the same anonymous account.

Song Zhi had very few lines, only a few lyrics.

Jiang Yan Zhou listened to those few lines repeatedly and finally understood why no one bought it.

Later, they gradually released several more albums, and the majority of the sales were contributed by Jiang Yan Zhou.

After the higher-ups divided the small profits from album sales, only ten percent reached them.

And that ten percent had to be split into six parts.

Song Zhi happily treated Jiang Yan Zhou to a good meal with her share of the dividends.

Unbeknownst to her, she was merely using wool from the sheep itself.

Song Zhi indeed lacked talent in singing. Her singing sounded like reading aloud, word by word, devoid of emotion.

Jiang Yan Zhou came over with a thermometer, and Song Zhi was hugging a cartoon pillow gifted by fans, sulking alone.

Marks from sleeping pressed on her cheeks, and her ears were red from the fever.

“A sore throat caused by a common cold will recover once you’re better. Don’t worry,” he handed her the thermometer, “Check your temperature.”

Song Zhi didn’t take it, instead suspiciously eyeing him: “How did you get here?”

“I took a car.”

Song Zhi was speechless. Of course, she knew he came by car, did she think he walked?

“I mean, how did you know I was here?”

He pondered for a moment: “I know someone around here.”

Her feverish brain was evidently slower than usual. After a few minutes of silence, Song Zhi frowned: “Did you have someone monitor me?”

Her exaggerated movements caused the fever patch on her forehead to loosely hang, nearly falling off.

Jiang Yan Zhou supported himself with one hand on the armrest beside her, leaning closer, intently reapplying the fever patch for her.

His cool fingertips occasionally brushed against her forehead skin.

The heat on her body seemed to subside a bit, and she smelled the familiar scent of indoor incense on him.

He seemed indifferent to these things. In the past, he always used agarwood.

Later, Song Zhi told him that he already gave off a serious and solemn vibe, so switching to a fresher incense might reduce some distance.

The scent of the incense was chosen by her, according to her preferences.

She originally thought Jiang Yan Zhou wouldn’t like it, but he continued using it until now.

Maybe he was too lazy to change.

“This drama involves some professional issues, so Uncle Luo borrowed a few people from me.”

He calmly answered her seemingly illegal question.

Song Zhi felt embarrassed for overthinking, her little head drooping slightly.

Inside, she was cursing wildly.

Song Zhi, who always believed in “even if I die suddenly, I must get up and put on exquisite makeup before stopping my heartbeat,” couldn’t believe her ex-boyfriend saw her in such a sickly state.

If her physical strength allowed, she really wanted to open the car door and sprint a hundred meters to escape his sight.

No!

Running away wasn’t her style.

Silently encouraging herself internally, she prepared for an elegant retort.

Jiang Yan Zhou handed her the thermometer: “Place it under your armpit.”

Song Zhi pretended to frown: “Who do you think you are, ordering me around?”

Jiang Yan Zhou paused for a moment, his tone calm: “Please, place it under your armpit.”

Song Zhi rolled her eyes: “What attitude.”

Jiang Yan Zhou sighed, lowering his voice: “Please.”

Only then did Song Zhi reluctantly take the thermometer, feeling secretly thrilled inside.

The old dog-faced bastard actually had to beg her one day.

Seeing her smug expression akin to a farmer singing songs after a great harvest, Jiang Yan Zhou slightly lowered his eyelids, his eyes carrying a gentle smile.

She was wearing a shirt. To measure her temperature, she had to unbutton it first.

Without much thought, she undid two buttons, letting the collar softly fall to both sides.

Her delicate shoulder and neck lines, along with her superior chest curves, her skin almost transparently white.

Pampered princesses locked in castles seemed to share common traits—they all possessed appearances enchanting enough to captivate at first sight.

“The little princess” muttered disdainfully in a low voice: “Can’t this thermometer be placed directly in the mouth? Must it be placed under the armpit?”

Unaware that the man’s gaze was scorched hot by the exposed spring scenery.

Jiang Yan Zhou subtly shifted his gaze: “I came in a hurry and bought it randomly from a nearby clinic.”

Song Zhi never deliberately avoided Jiang Yan Zhou when changing clothes, so she didn’t notice anything unusual this time either.

After buttoning up her shirt, she instantly changed her demeanor, raising her trousers and showing no recognition: “Can you leave now?”

Facing her eviction order, Jiang Yan Zhou patiently negotiated conditions with her: “Wait ten more minutes. I’ll leave after confirming you don’t have a fever.”

“Mr. Jiang seems to have overstepped,” she sweetly smiled, “And there’s no need for you to worry about this. Someone will naturally take care of me.”

As she spoke, she opened the car door, about to call Xiao Xu over.

Her eyelashes slightly lifted, just in time to see He Hanyang walking over with takeaway boxes.