Chapter 62

Zhou Jingyu arrived home at 8:15 PM and immediately sent a message to Wen Tang.

Wen Tang didn’t reply.

This was not unusual. Ever since Wen Tang returned to work, her time was no longer her own. It was common for her to be unable to check her phone right away. Sometimes, she wouldn’t respond to a message sent at night until early the next morning.

Zhou Jingyu didn’t mind.

Later that night, the only communication between them was at 10 PM when Zhou Jingyu sent another message wishing Wen Tang goodnight. Other than that, they had no contact.

The next morning, Zhou Jingyu woke up at 6 AM and reached for the phone on his bedside table. Still, there was no reply from Wen Tang.

He frowned slightly and sent her another message.

[Still busy?]

Wen Tang had just finished a long night of filming.

However, it wasn’t so busy that she couldn’t take a moment to reply to a message.

After removing her makeup, Wen Tang picked up her phone and saw Zhou Jingyu’s message.

She hesitated for a couple of seconds, but ultimately couldn’t bear to ignore him any longer, so she replied.

[Yes, I just finished.]

They exchanged a few more messages before Wen Tang ended the conversation, saying she was exhausted from filming all night and wanted to sleep.

After putting away her phone, Wen Tang closed her eyes and leaned back against the car seat. She began to feel the immense influence Zhou Jingyu had over her.

In the past, whenever she felt the slightest urge to break up with her boyfriends, she had never hesitated as much as she did now.

And it wasn’t just hesitation. Whenever she thought about breaking up with Zhou Jingyu, a deep sadness would well up inside her. Zhou Jingyu’s family, concerned about his grandfather Zhou Donghai’s illness, was eager to see him married and had been actively setting him up on blind dates.

Wen Tang now knew that the reason she had been able to add Zhou Jingyu on WeChat so smoothly in the first place was that Zhou Jingyu had mistaken her for one of his blind date partners. Later, when she revealed her true identity, he quickly realized she wasn’t the person he had been set up to meet.

If she hadn’t intervened, Zhou Jingyu might have already become someone else’s boyfriend by now—or even more, he might have married a wealthy heiress with a background matching his own. With his grandfather gravely ill and his family constantly pressuring him to marry, there was a chance that within these six months, Zhou Jingyu might have gone from being single to married.

So, if they broke up, would Zhou Jingyu just turn around and go on another blind date?

And perhaps quickly get married?

The mere thought of this suffocated her.

She didn’t want Zhou Jingyu to marry another woman. Just thinking about it pained her heart.

It was unbearable.

But despite all this, she had never seriously considered a long-term relationship with him, one that would lead to marriage.

After all, who can guarantee that their love will never end, that it will never fade?

Wen Tang felt as if she was standing at a crossroads. One path had Zhou Jingyu waiting for her, but beyond him, there was nothing—just the unknown and desolation, likely filled with many challenges and obstacles. The other path, though lacking Zhou Jingyu, was lined with flowers, lush greenery, and all the beauty she could ever desire, just within reach.

Was she really willing to give up an entire forest just for Zhou Jingyu?

Most importantly, even if she was willing to give up everything for him, would Zhou Jingyu be willing to forgo marriage for her?

This was the most conflicting point.

As the president of Shengling, Zhou Jingyu was constantly under the scrutiny of countless people. Even if he didn’t want to, there were many who would push him towards marriage.

He wasn’t getting any younger.

But what about her?

She had neither the family background nor the status to match his. All she had was a pretty face… but Zhou Jingyu had no shortage of that either. Their statuses didn’t match, and she wasn’t willing to marry.

She could already imagine that if she found it so hard to let go of him now, in time, she would only grow more attached. Wen Tang believed this was entirely possible. After all, she was already starting to lose control, thinking of him every day. Wen Tang swore she had never been so obsessed with any man before, not like she was with Zhou Jingyu. If she let this continue unchecked, without ending it in time, she could only imagine how disastrous the breakup would be, leaving both of them devastated.

Wen Tang spent several days digesting and convincing herself. Since Zhou Jingyu had left Hucheng, she had become listless, unable to muster enthusiasm for anything, often lost in thought.

Fortunately, her work hadn’t been affected. The film had reached a stage where her character required a worn-out look, and her current state actually helped enhance her performance.

After returning to Lingcheng from Lake City, Zhou Jingyu noticed that his contact with Wen Tang had gradually decreased.

Previously, no matter how busy Wen Tang was, she would reply to his messages promptly and had plenty to say. If their schedules aligned, she could talk non-stop, like a chatterbox. But these past few days, she often missed his messages. She was busy, tired, and their conversations ended quickly.

Zhou Jingyu, understanding the toll filming took on her, didn’t press her, only reminding her to sleep more, rest well, and maintain good health to deliver a strong performance.

Zhou Jingyu’s attitude towards Wen Tang was always gentle, never overbearing. In a typical relationship, if one partner was treated so perfunctorily, they might have already started demanding explanations, asking, “Why are you acting like this? Do you not care about me anymore?” But Zhou Jingyu never did. It was as if he truly believed Wen Tang’s half-truths and continued treating her as he always had.

But the more Zhou Jingyu acted this way, the more conflicted Wen Tang felt.

Maybe she should just give up?

Maybe they shouldn’t break up after all?

Who said being in love meant they had to get married? There were countless couples who broke up before reaching that point. Just let things take their natural course, right?

But as soon as Wen Tang thought of Zhou Donghai, she couldn’t get past this mental barrier.

A week dragged on like this.

One night, around one or two in the morning, Wen Tang had just wrapped up her night shoot and was about to start shooting during the day. However, having recently reversed her day and night schedule, she found herself unable to sleep.

That night, Zhou Jingyu had sent her four messages at different times, none of which she had responded to.

Unable to sleep, Wen Tang opened her phone to check her messages.

She stared blankly at the conversation with Zhou Jingyu.

Scrolling through their chat history, there was so much that she couldn’t get to the end. They had been dating for about six months, with five of those months being long-distance. Logically, their emotional attachment shouldn’t be that deep. Yet Wen Tang couldn’t let go, couldn’t let go at all.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have dragged out the breakup to this point. She used to be so decisive, ruthless, and unfeeling. One day she would be affectionate and the next day, she would end things without hesitation.

Now, it has been half a month…

She still found it hard to speak.

It felt like there was a hand inside her heart, preventing her from saying the words to break up. Every time she tried, the hand would come out and firmly stop her mouth and hands.

Did Zhou Jingyu actually have feelings?

Recently, he only seemed to care about her well-being and no longer shared his daily life with her. Though he wasn’t physically in Lingcheng City, she used to know his schedule well—when he had meetings, when he got off work, and what social events he attended. But now, the messages in their chat were just about breakfast, good afternoon, whether she had a lot of scenes that day, and good night.

For someone who wasn’t very talkative to begin with, having to initiate conversations with no response was quite a challenge.

Wen Tang scrolled through the records for over an hour, staring blankly at the chat box for ten minutes, agonizing over it, and finally decided not to delay any further.

She slowly typed a message:

[Zhou Jingyu, let’s break up.]

It seemed too straightforward. Wouldn’t he be shocked? Maybe it needed some lead-up.

Deleted.

Changed to: [Zhou Jingyu, do you think we’re really suited for each other?]

…

Still didn’t feel right.

Deleted and started over.

[I don’t think we’re very compatible.]

…

[… Sorry, I don’t want to continue anymore.]

…

…

…

After several versions, Wen Tang didn’t even know what she wanted anymore.

In the end, she decided to type one line. Closing her eyes and clenching her teeth, she sent it!

The message Wen Tang sent was: [Zhou Jingyu, how about we take a break for a while?]

After sending the message, Wen Tang placed her phone next to her pillow. Sometimes Zhou Jingyu would reply to messages late at night, so she wondered how he would react to this one.

Nervous, Wen Tang kept glancing at her phone.

Zhou Jingyu never replied.

Wen Tang waited for ten days for a response.

At first, she was anxious, like waiting for a sentence of death, but then her heart became calm.

Maybe this was just how things were.

No reply, no contact—wasn’t that an implicit agreement?

*

By the second week, Wen Tang was filming with the crew as usual.

She had adapted to Director Xu’s filming style, becoming more adept at her craft. Initially, she had trouble adjusting from TV drama habits to film shooting, as the two are quite different. Films require authenticity, focusing on natural realism, while TV dramas often use more exaggerated methods.

During the early days of the film shoot, Wen Tang had countless NGs and received much criticism from Director Xu, but she accepted his guidance and criticism and worked hard to improve her skills. After two months, her performance had significantly improved.

From frequently getting NGs and having to shoot a scene dozens of times, she now needed only a dozen or so takes, or even fewer.

The film’s plot revolves around a series of suicides in B City. The police find several individuals who have inexplicably taken their own lives. The timeline varies, and the families of the deceased express their shock, as the most recent suicide victim had a seemingly happy family life, with no apparent issues other than work-related stress. Despite seeing a psychologist, the reason for the suicide remained unclear.

During their routine investigation, the police find the names of several familiar suicide victims in the records of a female psychologist they interview.

The police, sensing something amiss, secretly investigate the psychologist, uncovering startling results.

Wen Tang plays this female psychologist in the film.

On the surface, she appears to be a gentle and soothing doctor, but internally, she is a tormented, paranoid, and dark individual.

After finishing another scene, Director Xu, dissatisfied with Wen Tang’s performance, called her over for a review.

He pointed at the scene Wen Tang had just shot and said, “Everything was good, but as a strong psychologist, you shouldn’t show any panic when the police arrive. Your gaze should be more resolute and calm. You’re not afraid of the police; you’re extremely crazy inside and even unafraid of death. The police are nothing to you.”

“Everything is under your control.”

…

Listening to the director’s feedback, Wen Tang nodded. After a few minutes, the director told her to go back and reshoot the scene.

This time, the shoot went smoothly. After finishing, the director gave Wen Tang a thumbs up, signaling approval.

Wen Tang immediately broke into a smile.

The director said, “Take a ten-minute break and get ready for the next scene!”

Afterwards, several people rushed over to Wen Tang—some to touch up her makeup, some holding an umbrella for her, others handing her water to drink, and with the hot weather, someone even wiped the sweat off her.

However, Ke Xin, holding her phone, saw the name on the screen and sprinted over.

“Tang Tang, Tang Tang!”

Ke Xin was extremely excited.

As her assistant, Ke Xin was always with Wen Tang and knew her well. She had noticed that recently Wen Tang had been in low spirits. Previously, after filming, Wen Tang would never be without her phone, always chatting with her boyfriend whenever there was a moment of free time, and her face was constantly smiling.

But now, things have changed.

Wen Tang had become silent and irritable.

Ke Xin and Yang Yang had both felt her frustration several times and had to be extra cautious around her, trying not to upset her.

Her phone, which she used to hold tightly, was now barely glanced at.

If there weren’t problems in her relationship, who would believe it?

Unfortunately, things didn’t seem to improve over the days. If anything, the situation seemed to worsen. Ke Xin was worried about their relationship, which she had been rooting for.

Would they really just end like this?

No way???

After anxiously waiting for over ten days, seeing Zhou Jingyu’s call was like seeing a glimmer of hope!

“Tang Tang, answer the phone!”

Ke Xin shouted over the crowd surrounding Wen Tang, drawing everyone’s attention.

Ke Xin didn’t care about the attention. Her excitement was indescribable. She was eager to get the phone with Zhou Jingyu’s call to Wen Tang quickly, fearing the call might end before Wen Tang could answer.

… Anyway, from her years of knowing Tang Tang, even if she missed the call, Wen Tang wouldn’t initiate a call herself.

But Ke Xin was too late. Just as she was about to hand the phone to Wen Tang, the ringtone suddenly stopped.

Ke Xin: “…”

She stared blankly at the phone.

It wasn’t just the ringtone that had stopped—it was her heartbeat!!!

Ke Xin’s composure was shattered.

“Tang… Tang Tang…” Ke Xin didn’t know if Wen Tang had seen that it was Zhou Jingyu calling. She looked at Wen Tang with hopeful eyes, still holding the phone.

Wen Tang remained expressionless, making it impossible to tell what she was thinking.

Ke Xin: “Zhou… Zhou’s call…”

Ke Xin’s voice was weak.

She regretted her inability to express herself well. She wanted to say something to Wen Tang but didn’t know how.

She was unsure whether to hand the phone back to Wen Tang or take it away.

In this hesitation, several seconds passed. Seeing Wen Tang showing no intention of answering the phone, Ke Xin was about to take it back.

At that moment, the phone rang again.

Ke Xin recognized the ringtone!

It was the same one from before!

Zhou Jingyu’s exclusive ringtone that Wen Tang had set!

Ke Xin’s spirits lifted instantly, her eyes shining with excitement!