SY - 39

Song Zhi was momentarily stunned, a bit puzzled as to why He Hanyang would appear here.

Xiao Xu seemed to be talking to him. The latter listened absentmindedly for a while, then slightly raised his gaze, locking eyes with Song Zhi.

After a brief pause, he subtly pursed his lips, seemingly smiling.

Then, he directly bypassed Xiao Xu and walked over.

Song Zhi’s hand was still on the car door, one foot suspended in the air.

The logo on the takeout box in He Hanyang’s hand belonged to the restaurant Song Zhi frequented most, located downtown, at least an hour away from here.

She blinked, asking somewhat whimsically: “Did you come to visit the set?”

After all, this was just a remote coastal area. Those who came were mostly tourists from elsewhere; locals rarely visited.

Moreover, for filming, the crew had cleared the area beforehand.

He Hanyang couldn’t have possibly come specifically to admire the scenery, right?

“He said you wanted to eat this restaurant’s porridge, and I happened to be free today.”

The “he” He Hanyang referred to was probably Xiao Xu.

Song Zhi’s focus veered off slightly: “Since when did you get involved with Xiao Xu?”

He Hanyang, whose gaze lifted slightly due to her words, seemed to experience a subtle shift in emotions.

Yet, he silently looked at her without saying a word.

Realizing her statement could be misinterpreted, Song Zhi explained: “I meant, how did you get his contact information?”

Given He Hanyang’s personality, it was evident that he wouldn’t become friends with Xiao Xu.

To put it bluntly but realistically, Xiao Xu and he weren’t even from the same social circle.

The latter didn’t bother hiding or concealing anything: “I had some matters to consult with him.”

Song Zhi immediately found this amusing: “Consulting him on how to creatively request a raise from your boss?”

Her sitting posture was improper. Normally, she would pay attention to her image in front of strangers, striving to maintain her pure and innocent persona.

Only in front of familiar people did she let her guard down.

She didn’t have any bad impressions of He Hanyang. The younger boy was obedient and well-behaved, and his appearance was exactly her type.

Just the visual pleasure alone was enough to skyrocket Song Zhi’s fondness for him.

Half of her body was inside the car, her long legs dangling in the air, swinging casually.

He Hanyang watched the smile at the corner of her eyes, quietly lowering his eyelids to conceal the emotions in his eyes.

But the slight redness at the tips of his ears betrayed his current feelings.

Song Zhi’s nerves were thick; she noticed nothing, but Jiang Yan Zhou inside the car saw everything clearly.

Born into an affluent family, he had seen plenty of relatives scheming and plotting for family wealth since childhood.

Having immersed himself in the business world for many years, Jiang Yan Zhou had long become a qualified businessman who prioritized interests above all else.

Even though he was silent and spoke little, his eyes were sharp.

He Hanyang was young; his petty thoughts could only fool Song Zhi.

“The thermometer can be taken out now.”

He calmly spoke, bringing Song Zhi’s attention back.

Song Zhi had almost forgotten about it.

She took the thermometer out from under her arm and handed it to him.

Jiang Yan Zhou glanced at it after receiving it: “37.5 degrees Celsius, a slight fever.”

He placed the thermometer back into its case, “Rest a bit more. If you’re still running a fever later, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Though not a single ambiguous word was spoken in his statement, there was an undertone of “Hear that? I’m still the rightful partner” in his tone.

He Hanyang knew about their relationship, but according to what he knew, they had broken up some time ago.

Song Zhi remained oblivious to her ex-boyfriend’s ambiguous hints and her suitor’s advances.

Her entire being was immersed in the agony of getting an injection: “I don’t want a shot!”

Before coming, Jiang Yan Zhou had specially asked Aunt He to prepare some of her favorite dishes, which were now being served one by one on a small foldable table.

The equipment inside the luxury van was quite complete—besides a hairdryer and light reflector, there was even a washbasin.

Clearly, this princess had prepared these items so she could apply face masks anytime while rushing between jobs.

“If you don’t want a shot, eat properly.”

He arranged the utensils in front of her.

Silver chopsticks were placed on the chopstick rest, next to a bone plate and a bowl of soup.

However, Song Zhi’s attention was caught by the takeout box in He Hanyang’s hand.

She loved Aunt He’s cooking, but at the moment, she craved Dong Wu Pavilion’s pumpkin and purple rice porridge.

The pure and innocent white flower instantly transformed into a caring older sister: “Little Yang hasn’t eaten yet, right? Do you want to get in the car and eat with us?”

To match the aura of a mature woman, her makeup today was slightly heavier than usual.

Her somewhat haggard appearance due to illness gave her an overall vibe of a sickly yet endearing charm.

Even her gentle smile seemed flirtatious.

The salty sea breeze whistled past her ears.

He Hanyang’s hearing seemed momentarily stuck, repeatedly replaying her affectionate nickname.

Two ordinary words, but when spoken by her, they carried another layer of meaning.

He hesitated for a moment, ultimately deciding to follow his heart and nodded: “Mm.”

Song Zhi beamed, quickly reaching out to take the item from his hands.

“Wow, it’s still warm.”

Just smelling the aroma of the porridge made her feel half better.

Jiang Yan Zhou seemingly had no appetite, not even touching his chopsticks.

He coldly observed everything in front of him.

He Hanyang didn’t eat much either; mealtime had long passed, and it was obvious he had already eaten.

Song Zhi misunderstood, frowning as she picked up food for him: “Being picky is bad for your health. Even if you don’t like it, you should eat a little.”

Seeing her intimate gesture, Jiang Yan Zhou’s face grew increasingly darker, exuding a foreboding sense of impending doom.

What he told her, she repeated to another man.

Great.

Obediently, He Hanyang ate all the food she placed in his bowl.

Song Zhi, who advised others against being picky, transferred all the carrots and vegetables she disliked to He Hanyang’s bowl.

Under the guise of “getting more vitamins.”

The scenes being filmed were Zhang Fanfan’s part. In the drama, the character she played was furiously tearing apart the green tea bitches to help Sheng Yan vent her anger.

Originally a domineering role, Zhang Fanfan turned it into a green tea vs. green tea showdown.

Her singing and dancing skills were lacking, and her acting was subpar.

Entering the entertainment industry was purely for fun, and it seemed this role was obtained by bringing in funding.

Song Zhi, biting on her chopstick tip, occasionally commented: “She should be fiercer at this point. That pitiful expression makes people think she’s the real green tea instead of the third female lead.”

“This level of force is child’s play, like sisters pulling each other’s hair flowers.”

When encountering obscure terms, she carefully explained to He Hanyang: “Do you know what ‘pulling hair flowers’ means?”

The straightforward He Hanyang pondered for a moment, translating the phrase literally: “Pulling flowers from the hair?”

In Song Zhi’s mind, He Hanyang instantly gained another identity—that of a translation master.

“Pulling hair flowers means sisters fighting.”

She shifted her gaze back, sighing: “At this rate, she’ll probably have to work overtime again today.”

Their back-and-forth banter showed no trace of unfamiliarity.

Spoiled and indulged, Song Zhi’s attitude towards others entirely depended on her fondness for them.

For those she disliked, even exchanging punctuation marks felt excessive.

For those she liked, her chatter never ceased.

At this moment, it seemed she still hadn’t stopped chattering. The gloom in Jiang Yan Zhou’s eyes became increasingly evident.

He was extremely adept at masking his emotions; joy and anger rarely showed on his face.

This was why Song Zhi often called him cold-blooded. Ordinary human emotions were completely invisible on his face.

He had always been accustomed to this way of survival.

The best way to avoid showing one’s last card was to retract all cards from the beginning.

Without vulnerabilities, one naturally had none.

Indeed, he had lived this way until now.

But seeing Song Zhi’s unreserved narcissism and arrogance fully exposed to another man, all his emotions burst forth like Pandora’s box.

Jealousy, hostility, and irritation.

All negative emotions intertwined.

His Song Zhi was like the sole rose in an expansive field of grass.

Too many were drawn by the fragrance.

First Qin He, and now He Hanyang.

Director Luo called for the female lead outside. Xiao Xu hurried over: “Sister Song Zhi, Director Luo is calling you.”

She still had a fever patch on her forehead. Hearing Xiao Xu’s words, she was momentarily stunned: “Why is he calling me? Isn’t it Zhang Fanfan’s scene now?”

“That part really couldn’t pass. Director Luo specially allocated some time for her to adjust her emotions and moved your scenes forward.”

It seemed Director Luo’s stern temperament varied depending on the person, treating sponsors with infinite tolerance.

Once again, she inwardly expressed disdain for his character.

Song Zhi put down her chopsticks: “You two continue eating slowly.”

Then she got out of the car.

The scenes weren’t filmed in chronological order of the script but in parts.

The previous jumping-into-the-sea scene was the grand finale.

Now they were filming the middle part where the male and female leads confess their feelings.

Sheng Yan wasn’t a reserved and conservative woman. Her overseas experiences made her particularly open-minded about sex.

Even her method of confession was exceptionally straightforward and brutal.

Directly launching into a passionate kiss.

Considering Jiang Yan Zhou and Song Zhi’s relationship, Director Luo specially permitted them to use camera tricks for this scene.

After explaining the scene, the clapperboard was struck, and filming began.

Song Zhi placed her left hand on Ji Song’s back, pulling him closer to her, while her right hand tugged at his tie. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him directly.

Stopping at a finger’s distance.

To convey that intense love, this kiss was prolonged.

It needed to depict the intensity of crushing lips.

Song Zhi strictly followed Director Luo’s guidance, slowly caressing Ji Song’s back with her left hand.

Through the exquisite fabric of his suit, she felt nothing.

His physique ranked among the top in the entertainment industry, but compared to Jiang Yan Zhou, he was still slightly inferior.

Whenever they made love, Song Zhi also liked to touch Jiang Yan Zhou this way.

His broad and firm shoulders provided an extraordinary sense of security.

Ji Song’s seemed narrower and thinner.

________________________________________

Before leaving, Song Zhi mentioned there was still porridge in the car. Xiao Xu, without any courtesy, sat down and started devouring.

Not only was there porridge, but also various nourishing soups—ginseng, bird’s nest, shark fin—the works.

He felt as if he were drinking money rather than nourishing soup.

After finishing a bowl, he was about to pour a second when a sound beside him momentarily distracted him from the ginseng soup.

As the man stood up, he accidentally knocked the bowl next to him onto the ground.

His usually cold eyes now bore a chilling coolness.

Following his gaze, Xiao Xu saw Song Zhi filming a kissing scene.

From this angle, it was impossible to tell they were using camera tricks. Combined with both actors’ excellent performances, it looked more like a natural kiss born out of passion rather than acting.

Xiao Xu’s heart skipped a beat. So now… was he jealous?