“Is he better looking, or am I?”

Lu Zixiao’s voice was low and seductive. Fresh from the shower, a few droplets of water clung to the ends of his hair, sliding down his throat and landing on Cheng Youran’s collarbone.

Who’s “he”?

Caught off guard by the question, Cheng Youran instinctively hid her phone under the pillow. It took her a few seconds before she cautiously ventured a guess. “Xie Jinzhou?”

He even remembered the name so clearly.

Lu Zixiao clenched his jaw, an unfamiliar emotion growing stronger in his chest. He climbed onto the bed, one knee sinking into the mattress as he loomed over Cheng Youran, trapping her beneath him. His breath came slightly unsteady.

“What do you think?”

If she were to be honest, Xie Jinzhou was breathtaking—somewhere between a boy and a man, with an androgynous beauty and a voice as sweet as honey.

As a top-tier scholar on Lu Zixiao, Cheng Youran calmly replied, “Of course, you’re better looking. He doesn’t compare to you…”

Cheng Youran stopped mid-sentence. Xie Jinzhou’s skin was fairer than Lu Zixiao’s, his eyes were bigger and his face was more delicate. So, she found herself struggling to continue the compliment.

“Hmm?”

Lu Zixiao’s sharp, upturned eyes locked onto her dangerously. Under pressure, Cheng Youran blurted out, “His skin is too pale, his eyes are too big, and his face is too small. Personally, I prefer someone with more balanced features—like you.”

Lu Zixiao raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased. His tone even lifted a little. “And?”

Cheng Youran: …That should be enough, right?

But when she looked up, she met Lu Zixiao’s deep, dark eyes, where a subtle, almost imperceptible expectation lingered. He looked like a spoiled Siamese cat, silently demanding to be flattered.

That look… Who could possibly resist?

Sorry, Xie Jinzhou.

Cheng Youran took a deep breath and launched into a full-blown monologue. For a solid ten minutes, she extolled Lu Zixiao’s superiority. “Compared to you, Xie Jinzhou doesn’t even come close. If I had to compare, it’d be like heaven and earth—”

“Who’s heaven, and who’s earth?”

Lu Zixiao listened intently, his ears practically perked up.

“Of course, you’re heaven, and he’s earth!”

Cheng Youran declared without hesitation.

And just like that, she watched as Lu Zixiao—who had been maintaining a cold, indifferent expression—suddenly smiled. When he smiled, his sharp features softened, his eyes curved, and he looked as warm as a spring breeze. It was as if he had transformed into a completely different person.

But after a moment, as if remembering something, his expression turned serious again. “Cheng Youran, don’t think I’m so easy to fool.”

He turned his head away. “I’m just drunk, that’s all.”

Cheng Youran couldn’t help but speak, her voice cautious. “Have you forgotten… that I’m an actress?”

The moment the words left her mouth, Lu Zixiao’s expression shifted at an alarming speed—flushing from pale to dark to an unmistakable shade of red. Embarrassed and indignant, he snapped, “Go to sleep!”

“Got it, Brother Lu.”

The light switch was right within reach. Cheng Youran enthusiastically—perhaps a little too eagerly—turned off the lamp.

Honestly, she had never seen Lu Zixiao make such a spectacular expression before. What a shame she couldn’t capture it forever.

The bedroom was instantly plunged into darkness.

—

After that incident, actress Cheng Youran didn’t see Lu Zixiao for most of the week. He was probably avoiding her out of sheer embarrassment. Before she knew it, the filming for Fenghua was about to begin.

She got up early that morning and sat at the dining table, sipping on a bowl of shredded chicken porridge.

Jiang Rong was up unusually early as well. She sliced open a triangular pastry and, with a hint of concern in her voice, asked, “You and Zixiao… everything okay lately?”

Cheng Youran’s hand froze mid-scoop. “…He’s just a little shy.”

She chose her words carefully. If she ever let slip that Lu Zixiao had been pretending to be drunk, she probably wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

But to Jiang Rong, it looked like she was forcing a smile. She knew her son well—he had been rational and emotionally detached since childhood. Shy was the last word she would ever associate with him.

Jiang Rong didn’t press further, and Cheng Youran didn’t dwell on it either. She simply continued drinking her porridge.

What she didn’t expect was that after dinner, Jiang Rong would discreetly slip her a bank card.

“There’s seven million in here. The password is 111111.”

Cheng Youran stared at the card in confusion. “Mom… what is this for?”

Just as Cheng Youran was about to refuse, Jiang Rong gently patted her shoulder, looking at her with heartfelt concern.

“I have more money than I know what to do with. If you don’t take it, I might as well throw it into the East China Sea.”

Cheng Youran: …Well, uh, thanks for that, I guess.

She didn’t turn it down. Her own bank card was still with Lu Zixiao, and truth be told, she was a little short on cash. She could always pay Jiang Rong back later. Slipping the card into her pocket, she said, “Thanks, Mom.”

Seeing her accept it, Jiang Rong let out a sigh of relief. As she reached the second floor, she turned back and added meaningfully, “A woman should be good to herself. Men are nothing. You can live a wonderful life on your own.”

Cheng Youran nodded hesitantly. The sentiment wasn’t wrong, but coming from Jiang Rong—the ultimate hopeless romantic—it felt a little off.

Before Lu Zhengrong left for the UK to handle the merger, Jiang Rong couldn’t go a single day without seeing him without throwing a fit.

…Could it be?

Just then, Fang Liuyun entered with her styling team and spotted Cheng Youran standing by the stairs, lost in thought. She smiled. “What’s up with you?”

Caught off guard, Cheng Youran blurted out what was on her mind. “I think my mother-in-law might be getting a divorce.”

Fang Liuyun: …Are you sure it’s not you and President Lu who are closer to a divorce?

She had heard bits and pieces from Gao Qiao—something about Cheng Youran and Lu Zixiao having a falling out. No one dared to mention Cheng Youran in front of him. The moment her name came up, his expression would turn ice-cold.

“Hurry up.”

The stylist, Ye Zhinan, spoke curtly, casting a glance at Cheng Youran. “Stayed up late last night, didn’t you? Your dark circles are so bad, even concealer won’t cover them.”

Cheng Youran nodded sheepishly. Fenghua was starting production today, and she had been so nervous that she barely slept, spending the entire night memorizing her lines.

But despite Ye Zhinan’s claim that it was “beyond fixing,” four hours later, Cheng Youran stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking radiant and refreshed, with no trace of her sleepless night in sight.

—

Nanwan, Fenghua Set.

Out of nowhere, a heavy downpour began. The rain pelted down in thick droplets, stinging against people’s skin.

Yan Junze stepped out of the car, holding an umbrella.

The moment he appeared, the fans gathered outside the set erupted into deafening screams, their voices even overpowering the sound of the rain. Some were crying as they called out his name, over and over again.

Because his name alone was a spectacle.

No one had anticipated the rain, and the fans were drenched, but that didn’t stop them. They kept shouting for Yan Junze, their devotion unwavering.

Yan Junze frowned slightly, watching as the crew rushed to distribute raincoats. He walked over to a bespectacled man and asked, “Director Yuan, do you have any extra raincoats?”

The filming set was far from the city, with the nearest store more than ten kilometers away—buying raincoats was out of the question. His fans were mostly young girls, and standing in the rain for too long wasn’t good for their health.

“We have some, we have some!”

Assistant Director Yuan quickly responded. They had stocked up on fifty packs of disposable raincoats in advance, and since they were inexpensive, he was more than happy to do Yan Junze a favor.

“Thank you.”

Yan Junze turned back and gave his fans a warm smile before heading to his seat, waiting for the opening ceremony to begin.

He pulled out his phone and opened All Nations Cultivation. His friends list contained only one name—Xiao Youzi.

She wasn’t online.

Slightly disappointed, he locked his phone.

The first time he noticed her was on the game’s leaderboard—she had shocked the entire server by spending at an absurd speed. On impulse, he sent her a friend request, never expecting her to accept.

He was used to grinding solo, running dungeons alone. But Xiao Youzi was always eager to team up, dragging him along to level up together. Before he knew it, playing alone started to feel… lonely.

A few days ago, during a guild war, he heard her voice for the first time. Just as he had imagined—soft, sweet, and ridiculously cute.

The mere thought of her brought a rare, gentle smile to his face—so gentle that the moment was unknowingly captured by his fans.

“Ahhh! Junze smiled!”

“He looks so gentle… I’ve never seen him smile like this before.”

“Our prince is so sweet today!”

Before long, Assistant Director Yuan arrived outside the set, carrying a bundle of raincoats. With a friendly smile, he announced, “Best Actor Yan was worried you’d catch a cold in the rain, so he asked me to bring these over for you.”

“Thank you, Director!”

“You’re the best—thank you so much!”

“Thank you, Director! Please take good care of our Junze during filming.”

The fans eagerly accepted the raincoats, expressing their gratitude toward Assistant Director Yuan and their deep admiration for Yan Junze. Assistant Director Yuan chuckled and nodded. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”

Just then, from a corner of the crowd, a small group of people holding signs with “Cheng Youran” written on them caught his attention.

After a brief hushed discussion among themselves, a young man—who looked like a university student—stepped forward. Politely, he asked, “Director, do you have any extra raincoats?”

“Cheng Youran’s fans?”

Assistant Director Yuan’s tone carried a hint of disdain.

“Yes, we traveled a long way by train to get here,” the young man replied politely. “I don’t mind the rain, but there are two girls with us who really shouldn’t catch a cold.”

“We’re out.”

Assistant Director Yuan crossed his arms over the remaining raincoats in his hands, his tone turning cold and dismissive. “Visitors aren’t allowed to loiter around the set. You should leave.”

If it weren’t for Cheng Youran, his niece wouldn’t have ended up in a detention center. And now they expected him to hand out raincoats? Not a chance.

“Then why are they allowed?”

The young man frowned in confusion.

Yan Junze’s fans exchanged uneasy glances, but Assistant Director Yuan quickly shot them a reassuring look. “They registered in advance. Did you?”

“N-no, we didn’t.”

The young man hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Then hurry up and leave! If you don’t, I’ll have security escort you out!” Assistant Director Yuan snapped, turning on his heel without looking back. “How is it that everyone has fans these days?”

How was it that everyone has fans…

A few knowing, dismissive chuckles rang out from the crowd. Without Cheng Youran around, they sneered maliciously at the fans trying to stand out.

The young man, flustered and tongue-tied, struggled to explain, “Cheng Youran isn’t just anyone. She grew up in a low-income family. She had to work really hard to get into Beijing Film Academy…”

His hair and clothes were drenched, making him look utterly disheveled. Just then, a girl suddenly emerged from the corner. She hugged her friend for comfort before dashing toward Assistant Director Yuan, who was about to enter the set.

“Director, wait!”

Tian Xiaohe panted, trying to catch her breath.

Assistant Director Yuan, already annoyed, stopped in his tracks. Was this never-ending? He turned around and saw an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girl. Her loose white T-shirt clung to her body, drenched in rain, revealing a figure that seemed at odds with her innocent face.

His gaze lingered a moment longer on her chest. This type was new to him. He licked his lips and smirked. “You want a raincoat, huh? Follow me.”

=^_^=