Chapter 37: Regret in This Life and the Next

Lu Hui knew that Yan Zhao was ruthless enough to accomplish great things, but for him to dig out his own golden core… it surpassed her imagination.

After feeling a brief sense of satisfaction, she began to worry. If Yan Zhao could be so ruthless with his own golden core, was he planning not to return to the immortal world?

Yan Zhao’s face was hidden in the dim yellow light, his expression unclear.

Lu Hui took a deep breath. “I won’t eat it.” Her tone was calm. “I’m not interested.”

Yan Zhao slowly raised his head, furrowing his brows. “Why?”

He had many “whys” he wanted to ask. There were many things he couldn’t get answers for.

Yan Zhao was cold-blooded and rational. Of course, he knew Lu Hui hated him for killing her, but hatred aside, why not use him if she could? His golden core was no ordinary worthless thing.

Lu Hui felt the cold wind on the balcony and thought that Yan Zhao’s mind might be even less clear than hers.

“Maybe I think you’re dirty,” she said.

Yan Zhao grabbed her wrist. His thin body had surprising strength, and he easily locked her in place. He looked at her in disbelief, his voice weak, “I’m dirty?”

Lu Hui glanced at his hand tightening around her wrist, the veins on it bulging. “Can you stop using your hands like that?”

Even though there was no camera, it wouldn’t look good if other staff members saw this.

Lu Hui pulled a cold face. “Let go.”

Yan Zhao slowly loosened his fingers. Looking at his icy clean face, it was hard to associate him with being rough. Even in the dim light, his lips were red, his teeth white, and his eyes looked like painted beauty.

Lu Hui felt it was hard to reason with someone who wasn’t mentally stable, but she had to press on.

“Yan Zhao, try to think from my perspective. If I wanted to kill you because of another man, and use all the parts of your body that I could, would you forgive me?”

Yan Zhao’s throat turned dry and bitter, the saliva he swallowed tasted like bitterness.

The answer was no.

Not only would Yan Zhao never forgive, but he would also use the most cruel methods to kill those who betrayed him. He would scatter their souls, crush their bones, and make them regret this in both this life and the next.

Lu Hui backed him into a corner, leaving him speechless. She scanned him with her gaze, then continued, “So the best relationship we have right now is no relationship. You live your life, and I’ll live mine. Don’t keep bothering me. I don’t have a murder quota here, or else you’d be dead by now.”

Yan Zhao’s eyelashes fluttered, like the light flapping of a butterfly’s wings, his skin white as snow, the area around his eyes tinged with a faint red. He spoke three words: “I understand.”

The show continued recording in the afternoon.

It was obvious that the atmosphere between Lu Hui and Yan Zhao was tense, neither of them saying anything, not even making eye contact more than a few times.

The two children obediently lay down for their afternoon nap. Lu Hui, bored, watched TV, flipping between children’s channels and drama channels.

By coincidence, a fantasy drama she had acted in was being rerun. Lu Hui couldn’t help but praise herself, “I acted really well.”

No drops in performance, excellent expression control, and both crying and smiling were top-tier beautiful.

The director, kindly reminding her that there were cameras filming, said that saying such things might attract criticism.

Lu Hui aggressively opened a bag of chips. “Well, director, please cut this part out when you air it.”

Cut? Yeah, right!

The director had thought that putting Lu Hui and Yan Zhao together would create a big splash, but by the afternoon, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

Lu Hui lay on the couch, enjoying watching her own show. Yan Zhao, like a log, did nothing but stare at her.

His silken, long hair spread out like a black waterfall. When Lu Hui lay down, she accidentally brushed against the ends of his hair, but she was too focused on the show to notice these little details.

Yan Zhao didn’t say a word. The sunlight from the glass windows bathed them, casting a peaceful and quiet atmosphere around them.

No arguments, no romance. They got none of the effects they wanted. The staff was almost falling asleep.

The director, a master strategist, had miscalculated this time. He thought things would go better than this, but he was wrong.

Lu Hui suddenly felt like this whole recording wasn’t a waste. She stood up, stretched, turned off the TV, and went upstairs.

Yan Zhao lowered his gaze, lost in thought, though it was unclear what he was thinking.

The director, running out of things to film, gave up and let the camera shoot a full 365-degree view of Yan Zhao’s face. Such beauty couldn’t be wasted.

Yan Zhao disliked the camera. In front of the staff, his face hardened, showing no hint of kindness. His gaze was cold and distant, with his glazed, crystal-clear eyes staring at the camera, making everyone shiver as if saying “Don’t film me.”

They were the paying clients, but under such a gaze, they felt guilty and weak in the knees.

The cameraman swallowed, hesitating between the beauty of the moment and the coldness he felt, his gaze flicking back and forth.

Yan Zhao stood up, his long, ink-like hair swaying as he moved upstairs.

The director watched the scene through the camera, rubbing his chin. “Putting everything else aside, Yan Zhao’s face is truly something to be proud of.”

The cameraman, who hadn’t seen a man with such superior looks and charm in the entertainment industry for a long time, said, “He’s amazing when he smiles.”

The director raised an eyebrow, “He smiled?”

By the end of the day, the director had yet to see any other expression on Yan Zhao’s face—he was a complete iceberg.

The cameraman proudly said, “Oh, he did smile. I caught it on camera.”

“When?”

“When Lu Hui was making fried rice in the kitchen.” The cameraman seemed to savor the memory, “That smile… even I, a grown man, almost melted.”

The director gave him a slap. “Go away! You’re making me sick!”

They continued to chat while eating some flatbread. “Do you think Yan Zhao is really into Lu Hui? With his conditions, he could probably date seven or eight people at once.”

The cameraman nodded. “It’s true love.”

The director, who had been in the entertainment industry for over ten years, had seen countless celebrity couples. Regardless of how perfect their public relationship seemed, behind the scenes there were always third, fourth, and fifth partners.

There was no such thing as true love in the entertainment industry.

Finishing the last bite of his flatbread, the director said, “I don’t believe it. Men are always looking at other women, no matter how devoted they seem. You’ll see.”

The program team couldn’t hide any small changes. Ning Jiao’s feelings for Yan Zhao had already been noticed.

Perhaps Yan Zhao, after being treated coldly by Lu Hui, had immediately been captured by Ning Jiao’s gentle warmth.

The cameraman agreed, “That makes sense.”

—

In the evening, work resumed, and the program team announced the first task: all six groups of guests had to prepare dinner together. Each person had to prepare at least two dishes, and at the end, everyone would vote for the best group. The group with the most votes would win extra pocket money.

The little chubby boy, possibly having been scolded by Lu Hui, had become much quieter and less arrogant. He no longer pointed at her or treated her like a servant.

When the boy learned she was making dinner, he shyly asked, “What are you going to cook?”

Lu Hui, who loved pinching his face, couldn’t resist giving his chubby cheek another light pinch. “That’s none of your business.”

The boy, surrendering to his love for food, tolerated her actions. “I want sweet and sour pork ribs and braised pork.”

“I heard you,” Lu Hui replied.

The boy, still not fully trusting her, asked, “Will you really make it?”

Lu Hui teased him, “That depends on my mood.”

He put his hands on his hips, “No, I want to eat it.”

Lu Hui covered her mouth and laughed. “You really are a domineering little chubby boy.”

“I’m not fat!” he protested.

Lu Hui replied without sincerity, “Of course, not at all.”

The little boy, frustrated, thought to himself that he would tell his uncle to kick this annoying woman out of the program.

—

It seemed like Lu Hui was subtly isolated by the other older people. The kitchen space was limited, so they put her at the end of the line. They spoke with soft, half-hearted words, implying that she, as a spoiled young girl, probably hadn’t cooked before, so she could just throw something together at the end.

Lu Hui pretended not to notice their subtle exclusion. “Alright.”

Ning Jiao was the first to go, making the kids’ favorite fried French fries and chicken wings.

When it was Yan Zhao’s turn, he glanced at Lu Hui and asked, “You go first?”

Lu Hui replied, “No need.”

A gentleman stays away from the kitchen, and Yan Zhao, who had lived for centuries, had never touched a stove. Faced with the array of kitchen tools, he had no idea what to do, so he ended up making a bowl of plain noodles.

The soup was salty, and the noodles were overcooked.

Yan Zhao brought the bowl to Lu Hui and quietly watched her with his glistening eyes. “Try it.”

Lu Hui wouldn’t give him a good face even on camera. “Thanks, but I’m too full.”

It was too embarrassing.

Yan Zhao’s dignity was trampled under her feet.

Everyone watching could see the true reality unfolding—an obsessive admirer chasing after someone who would never reciprocate.

Ning Jiao, frustrated by his actions, wanted to tell him, “Handsome, you don’t have to be this humble! If she doesn’t want you, there are plenty of other women who will.”

Ning Jiao took the opportunity to rescue him. “I haven’t eaten anything this afternoon. Why don’t you let me try?”

Yan Zhao furrowed his brow, taking the bowl away. “I haven’t eaten either.”

Ning Jiao’s smile faltered.

Others could almost hear their hearts breaking.

Lu Hui quickly avoided the awkward situation. “I’m going to the kitchen to cook.”

Yan Zhao’s face was truly a weapon—he had only been there for a short time, yet he had already captured the hearts of the audience.

Ning Jiao was blind to love, choosing to fall for someone as cold and heartless as Yan Zhao.

By the time everyone gathered at the table, it seemed they hadn’t even waited for Lu Hui. Saying that the kids were hungry, they had already started eating.

But none of them were skilled in the kitchen. The dishes were nearly inedible, and each bite felt like they were going to vomit, but they still forced themselves to compliment the food.

Everyone secretly planned to head to the village store after filming and buy a couple of boxes of instant noodles, which would be far better than the disgusting food on the table.

In half an hour, Lu Hui had prepared braised pork and sweet and sour ribs. The aroma wafted into the living room, making everyone’s stomachs growl.

“So fragrant.”

“Wow, it smells pretty good.”

Someone, unable to hold back, glanced toward the kitchen, mouth watering. “When will it be ready?”

No one knew Lu Hui could cook. But maybe her cooking was no different from theirs—just pretty to look at, like a decorative pillow.

The adults tried to keep their composure, sitting quietly.

The little chubby boy didn’t wait for anyone. He darted to the kitchen like the wind and hugged Lu Hui’s leg. “I’m starving!!!”

The little chubby boy is not happy.

The little chubby boy wants to eat.

Lu Hui gently ruffled his hair. “Soon.”

The little chubby boy, his grumpy mood from hunger now soothed, said, “My uncle will come tonight. Considering you’re making me dinner, I won’t tell on you and get you kicked out.”

Lu Hui paused for two seconds.

His uncle, Cen Yueze, was the most dazzling “Bking” in Beijing.

Not to mention, the little chubby boy’s behavior was clearly inherited from Cen Yueze. The two of them didn’t seem like uncle and nephew; they looked more like father and son.

Lu Hui seriously considered the possibility: This little chubby boy might genuinely be Cen Yueze’s biological son!

---

Lu Hui lightly tapped his small head. “If you tell on me, I’m not afraid of your uncle.”