03. Vibrato

To handle Pei Yu’s way of speaking, Chen Shuyin had already figured out a strategy: the less she engaged with him, the better. The more attention she gave him, the more he thrived.

Chen Shuyin pressed her fingers together and dragged them across her lips in a silent warning for him to shut up.

Pei Yu curled one side of his lips into a suave smirk. “Do you also go mute when interviewing your subjects? With your work ethic, how do you expect to survive in the journalism industry?”

“Speaking recklessly, mocking staff members—aren’t you afraid your off-screen persona will backfire in the entertainment industry?” Chen Shuyin pretended to start recording on her phone to intimidate him. “Better watch out, or I’ll expose you.”

“Wow.” Pei Yu clapped twice, dryly, his face impassive, but his tone full of mischief. “I’m so scared. What other tricks do you have to threaten me? Come on, let me see if I should tuck my tail between my legs.”

“Of course, I do. I have embarrassing photos of you from three years of high school and four years of university—over ten gigabytes’ worth, stored on my phone and computer.”

Talking to him was exhausting, so she pulled out her trump card to end the conversation quickly. “Since we’re old classmates, no need to beg me. Just transfer the buyout fee via WeChat. Five yuan per photo, ten yuan per video.”

The driver couldn’t help but interject, “Miss Chen, Pei Yu’s market value has skyrocketed tens of thousands of times. Your price is way too low.”

Oh, but she was lowballing him on purpose.

Why should he get to be so smug?

Chen Shuyin’s eyes curved into a smile, her fair neck tilting forward slightly. A few strands of hair fell over her skin, catching the light, making her complexion appear even more luminous. “It’s called supply and demand. If someone has an inflated sense of self-worth, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

Pei Yu suddenly fell silent, leaning against the car window with narrowed eyes, studying her with an unreadable expression.

When Chen Shuyin turned her head, their eyes met. His sharp gaze sent chills down her spine. “Y-you’re not planning to silence me for good, are you?”

She could adapt when needed. “I mean, you don’t have to pay. I swear on my integrity—I won’t leak anything unless you provoke me.”

It was both a retreat and a warning.

Pei Yu unexpectedly leaned closer, shrinking the distance between them to something dangerously intimate. His smile was perfect, but Chen Shuyin could always sense a hint of wickedness beneath it. “Do you think I’d be worried about ugly photos of me?”

Chen Shuyin examined his features up close—flawless. His bone structure was impeccable, giving him a face with no bad angles.

She held her breath for a second before turning away. “If they exist, they exist. Stop denying it.”

“Haven’t noticed any,” he taunted. “So, you’ve secretly collected all these private—photos of me?”

The way he said “private photos” was like he had a piece of cotton candy in his mouth—sweet, sticky, melting slowly, dripping ambiguity into the air.

“W-what?” Chen Shuyin finally realized she’d fallen into his trap. “I took them openly!”

“Oh? You brazenly took photos of me without telling me and then stashed over ten gigabytes of them under your covers for personal enjoyment?” Pei Yu crossed his arms, his smile deepening, his amusement thick enough to drown in. “Chen Shuyin, don’t tell me you pretend to hate me, but actually like me?”

Wow.

Chen Shuyin had to bite her tongue to keep from spitting at him.

She shouldn’t have responded. She knew he had a severe, incurable case of narcissism, yet she still handed him the perfect setup to fuel his delusions.

Was she kicked in the head by a donkey?

She forced a professional smile. “No, Mr. Pei. It’s work hours—should we really be discussing personal matters?”

She deliberately used the industry’s standard polite form of address.

Pei Yu’s smirk faded slightly, but his love for teasing remained. “Getting to know each other better is part of good collaboration. Why change the subject? Feeling guilty?”

Provocation? That wouldn’t work on Chen Shuyin.

She blinked calmly and replied, “Guilt only comes from doing something one refuses to admit. But you should know very well who I actually liked.”

For the first time, Pei Yu looked like he’d taken a hit, his unshakable confidence cracking.

He let out a low chuckle, his tone tinged with self-mockery—or maybe she imagined it. “Right. How could I forget?”

Chen Shuyin relaxed slightly, winning this round.

But only for a few seconds.

Because Pei Yu came back swinging. “But didn’t I ruin that for you?”

“…”

That son of a—he was actually proud of that?

Pei Yu, you moral-deficient porcupine! Always stabbing her, over and over!

“Well, don’t get cocky.” Chen Shuyin crossed her arms and turned away, refusing to engage further. “If I can’t have a relationship, neither can you.”

To be fair, when it came to love, Pei Yu was even more indifferent than she was.

He never seemed to show any interest in any girl. Over the years, she had seen him reject countless love letters, and later, even fan letters were returned with the excuse that he had “retired from receiving them.”

Some girls chased after him persistently, but he always shut them down coldly.

Honestly, she felt bad for them.

No one could handle Pei Yu’s mouth.

At one point, rumors spread that he was either pining for an unattainable love or… gay.

Chen Shuyin even anonymously wrote a post analyzing it from a very professional perspective.

She concluded with three points:

1. He had been a child star and knew he was handsome—too proud and arrogant to care about others.
2. He was spoiled and impatient—too accustomed to being praised, so he looked down on others.
3. He just… looked down on others.

Then, she got flamed for 300 comments and had her account banned for “personal attacks.”

Pfft. Who wasn’t capable of falling in love?

If he hadn’t exposed her crush back then, she might be discussing wedding plans with someone else by now.

Nobody’s perfect. She would get her revenge one day.

The car sped along the road, wind seeping through every gap. Chen Shuyin hugged herself, rubbing warmth back into her arms.

Pei Yu half-opened his eyes. “Cold?”

Chen Shuyin frowned. Was he talking to her?

The driver turned around. “Not cold at all, Pei.”

A few silent seconds passed. Then Pei Yu rolled up the window he had cracked open earlier. “Turn up the heat. I am cold.”

Tch. Of course, he wasn’t being considerate.

The rest of the ride was peaceful.

By the time they arrived, Chen Shuyin’s legs were numb.

At least the setup was professional, and she quickly finished drafting her interview outline before heading into the village with the photography crew.

Pei Yu was already in makeup when she hesitated at the corner, staring at him.

She had rushed out this morning, dressed plainly like an ordinary journalist. But on camera, makeup was necessary. Standing next to Pei Yu, who was perfectly styled, she could already imagine the broadcast making her look like a dull background prop.

She had been a background prop to him for seven years. She had had enough.

Fine. Just endure a little longer.

Once this was over, he’d go back to being a celebrity, and she’d continue as a news reporter. Their worlds would separate.

They just needed to get through this last bit of time together.