Chapter 8: The Fallen Child Star (8) Part 1

The dinner was exceptionally lavish, with each dish a homestyle classic prepared to perfection in taste, aroma, and presentation.

Throughout the meal, Zhang Qingyi’s phone kept ringing. She glanced at the caller ID, set the phone to silent, and tossed it aside without answering a single call.

‘What’s the point of answering a scumbag’s call?’she thought. Listening to his excuses or arguing would only make her angrier and more upset.

After dinner, Zhang Qingyi volunteered to do the dishes.

Unfamiliar with the hand pump well, she failed to draw water after several attempts. Xu Weiheng stepped in to assist her.

Yao Rong said, “Qingyi, while you’re staying here, why not join us for meals?”

Zhang Qingyi felt a bit embarrassed.

However, cooking and eating with Yao Rong and Xu Weiheng had left her feeling relaxed and joyful, making it hard to refuse.

After some thought, Zhang Qingyi transferred a month’s worth of meal expenses to Yao Rong and offered to take on the daily dishwashing.

Only then did she happily agree.

Xu Weiheng, having plucked a stalk of foxtail grass from somewhere, squatted by the well, playfully waving the fluffy grass to entertain Ping’an.

Ping’an chased the grass like a butterfly, darting back and forth, its tiny head bobbing dizzily.

Xu Weiheng found its antics endearing, his eyes softening involuntarily.

“You seem to like Aunt Zhang a lot?”

“Hm?” Yao Rong was puzzled.

“Ever since you met Aunt Zhang, you’ve been constantly caring for her and helping her.”

The evening breeze gently blew as Yao Rong tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just a small effort.”

She cooked for herself and Xu Weiheng every day anyway.

Cooking for two or three people took roughly the same time and effort.

It was just an extra pair of chopsticks.

If she hadn’t known Zhang Qingyi, it would have been different. But since Zhang Qingyi was staying at the guesthouse, and her experiences mirrored Yao Rong’s own past, she understood Qingyi’s feelings well.

Having endured certain hardships herself, she didn’t want Zhang Qingyi to repeat the same mistakes.

Moreover, since Zhang Qingyi had asked her father to post that Weibo, Yao Rong felt indebted to her.

This was a friend who understood gratitude, someone worth developing a deep friendship with.

Xu Weiheng fell into thought.

He didn’t have many friends.

His best friend was another artist from the same company.

But when Xu Weiheng got into trouble, his best friend publicly betrayed him, posting a supportive Weibo for Xu Yiyuan.

That single post had garnered the friend two million new followers overnight and deepened Xu Weiheng’s sense of betrayal and despair.

He had never mentioned it to anyone, but he often wondered if he hadn’t been good enough, if that’s why his best friend betrayed him.

But now, observing Yao Rong and Zhang Qingyi’s friendship, Xu Weiheng thought that perhaps it wasn’t about him not being good enough. He had just chosen the wrong friend and misplaced his trust.

He had treated the other person as his best friend, while they might have seen him as a fool.

With this nagging doubt resolved, a more relaxed smile appeared on Xu Weiheng’s face.

Yao Rong nudged him. “Now that dinner’s over, why don’t you take Ping’an out for a walk?”

Xu Weiheng stood up, took a few steps toward the door, then stopped and turned around, asking, “Should I go alone?”

“Yeah.”

“…But I don’t know the way.”

Yao Rong’s lips curved into a smile. “Don’t worry, Ping’an knows. Just follow it, and it will lead you back when it’s done playing.”

Xu Weiheng: “?”

Was he walking Ping’an, or was Ping’an walking him?

Before Xu Weiheng could voice his protest, Ping’an had already dashed eagerly toward the gate.

Xu Weiheng shot Yao Rong a resigned glance and hurried after Ping’an.

Ping’an ran swiftly, but it would stop and wait every so often.

Once Xu Weiheng caught up, it would take off again.

The setting sun dipped below the horizon, staining the clouds with hues of pink. The narrow alleys stretched long shadows, mirroring the slow pace of life in this small town.

After dinner, the elderly and children moved their stools to the courtyard gates, chatting in the cool evening air.

From some house, a radio played music.

Classic tunes from the 1980s floated through the alleys as Xu Weiheng trailed Ping’an, winding through the streets.

Meanwhile, Yao Rong had already completed half an hour of yoga and was now tending to the flowers and trees in the courtyard.

She held pruning shears, carefully selecting and trimming three of the best-blooming roses. After cleaning a vase, she arranged the flowers inside.

She placed one rose and a can of Wangzai milk on the windowsill of Xu Weiheng’s room, took another rose to the third floor, and set it by Zhang Qingyi’s door.

The remaining rose, she kept on her own desk.

There was no need for perfume; the natural fragrance of the roses permeated the room.

Yao Rong opened her laptop and continued writing her novel, Starry sky.

The story revolved around a middle-aged man named Hua, drifting among the stars.

He wandered through the cosmos, witnessing countless wonders and experiencing thrilling adventures, all in search of his way back to the Blue Star.

He loved the stars, but his heart yearned even more for his homeland.

…

Life in Ying County was leisurely indeed.

Every morning, Xu Weiheng was dragged out for a jog by Yao Rong, and in the evenings, he would chase Ping’an through the winding streets and alleys.

This slow-paced lifestyle almost made him forget all his troubles.

Until Lawyer Zhou called Yao Rong.