Chapter 7

Jiang Yehui returned to the bedroom and put on the British drama she was currently watching.

Barely two minutes in, her mother called.

“Watching a show?”

“Mm.” She lowered the volume, eyes still on the screen.

“How are things going with Jingcheng?”

“Pretty well.”

“Marxidi is beautiful. I went there with your sister-in-law once. Is it convenient to talk right now?”

“Sure, Jingcheng is in the study.” Jiang Yehui was multitasking, already mentally prepared for a long lecture.

“You’re newlyweds—take advantage of his current enthusiasm and build your relationship well. Have a child early to reassure the Gu family, then live steadily as Mrs. Gu.”

Jiang Yehui replied casually, “Like you did?”

“What’s wrong with being like me?”

Madam Zhou paused, then questioned suspiciously, “You’re not still thinking about those romantic daydreams or that poor painter named Ye something, are you?”

Seriously, what was going on today? One after another, everyone kept bringing up that old affair. Jiang Yehui lost interest in the show and muted the TV.

“Xiaoye, don’t blame me for nagging—I’m just afraid you’ll lose your head. That Ye guy, didn’t he swear up and down that he loved you? And in the end, he showed his true colors over a mere two million! Don’t blame your brother, he did what he did for your sake.”

Jiang Yehui softened her tone and acted coy, “Mom, how long ago was that? I’ve long forgotten. How could I possibly blame big brother?”

“As long as you understand.”

Madam Zhou sighed gently. “Do you remember Aunt Mei? She insisted on marrying a tattoo artist who didn’t even own a house when she was in her twenties. Within a year, she couldn’t stand the poverty and filed for divorce, didn’t even want the baby who had just reached one month. Everyone in our circle knows.

Later she remarried, but after that kind of experience, no good family would take her. She ended up marrying someone from a small background with a bit of money, who only wanted her because of her father’s official position. Now she rarely shows up at gatherings, afraid of being talked about behind her back.

So, Xiaoye, Mom has to tell you—passionate love means nothing in the face of a good marriage between equals.”

“I know, Mom.” Jiang Yehui was obedient as ever.

“Jingcheng is young, runs a whole corporation, and is very good-looking. There are so many little actresses in his company dying for a chance. Give them the slightest opportunity and they’ll throw themselves at him. The first couple of years, you must stay vigilant. Have a child early—just look at your brother and sister-in-law…”

Jiang Yehui vaguely heard a child’s voice in the background and quickly interrupted, “Is Jia Jia hungry? I think I heard him crying. Is Aunt Zhang not around?”

Jia Jia was her brother’s six-month-old son, and her mom adored him.

As expected, Madam Zhou got distracted, “Alright then, just keep everything in mind. I’m going to check on the baby.”

Finally, the call ended.

Jiang Yehui turned off the TV, turned on the bedside lamp, and lay down.

Her mother had repeated these things so many times, she just listened passively now. Although she’d been strictly raised, she knew exactly what kind of world their circle was.

Loving on the surface, living separately behind closed doors—such marriages were everywhere, and everyone turned a blind eye. Even the so-called “loving couple with children” her mother-in-law often praised was just a pretty facade.

Her parents had known each other since childhood and got married and had kids according to family arrangements.

After her older brother was born, her father probably felt he had fulfilled his obligations to both the family and the business—and began secretly keeping mistresses. At first, the grandparents scolded him, but later they just ignored it.

Her mother too, chose to have another child—her—in that situation.

There was one thing her mother said that she did agree with.

Marriage had to be between equals. As for love? It couldn’t stand the test of time and money. She knew this firsthand.

She might be walking a similar path to her mother’s—but not entirely. She would never allow herself to continue sleeping with a man she knew was cheating on her.

That was her bottom line.

There would always be temptations around Gu Jingcheng. He might reject a Yang Xiaoguo or Zhao Xiaoguo now, but what about a Li Xiaoguo later? He could resist in the beginning of marriage, but she didn’t believe he could keep that up over time.

Her first time with him had been so bad she didn’t even want a second. As for children, if he really wanted one, there would be plenty of women willing to bear them. She wasn’t worried.

Alright—thinking done. She let out a long breath, cleared her mind, and prepared to sleep early. Tomorrow, after all, held another day of carefree joy.

Just as she was about to drift off, her phone rang again.

She answered drowsily, only to hear Xin Yan yelling, “Jiang Beauty, guess where I am!”

Jiang Yehui rubbed her ear and moved the phone away a little, frowning. “Not guessing. Just tell me.”

“I sneaked into the backstage with Director Xin and just gave my idol flowers! OMG, seeing him up close—he’s even more handsome than on TV!”

“Ew, just earlier you were saying you wanted to experience being a regular fan in the crowd! How many ‘ordinary fans’ can get backstage to present flowers to their idol?”

Jiang Yehui yawned. “Did Fu Sheng win an award?”

“Absolutely! He took Best Actor—my dad presented the award to him!” Xin Yan sounded thrilled. “Stardust Memoir was a huge hit: Best Actor went to Fu Sheng, Best Actress to Lu Mingming, and Best Screenwriter to Fairy Zhou. There’s a celebration party later.”

Hearing this, Jiang Yehui couldn’t help but smile. She reminded herself to congratulate someone later.

Xin Yan was still gushing. “Fu Sheng really deserved it. He’s not just a heartthrob anymore, but a legitimate, award-winning actor now.

“And seriously, isn’t the screenwriter of Stellar Chronicle just incredible? Such a huge, high-profile award ceremony and she didn’t even show up. Fu Sheng accepted the award on her behalf. I heard a ton of production companies came today hoping to sign her, and she didn’t show at all!”

It sounded like Xin Yan had moved to a quieter place—the background noise was much softer now.

Jiang Yehui spoke up to defend the screenwriter. “Maybe she’s just being low-key.”

“Low-key my foot! I bet she just doesn’t look good. Using a pen name like ‘Fairy Zhou’? Probably too embarrassed to appear in public—can’t even accept an award face-to-face!

“But you know what? My biggest wish right now is to have Fairy Zhou write me a script. I don’t care if I have to call her ‘fairy,’ ‘sister,’ or even ‘mom’—whatever it takes!”

“…Ahem. You sure about that?”

“Of course I am! My own mom is basically non-existent, and my stepmom is only four years older than me. Rumor has it Fu Sheng is the only one who knows Fairy Zhou’s real identity. What if she’s not some fairy at all, but just some crusty uncle?”

“I can guarantee she’s not a crusty uncle.”

A man’s voice cut in unexpectedly.

“Fu Sheng!” Xin Yan squealed in delight, and not forgetting her best friend, spoke demurely, “This is my bestie Xiaoye. Mr. Fu, would you say a few words to her? She’s a big fan too.”

Jiang Yehui got goosebumps from how delicately she was speaking. The last time Xin Yan sounded like that was when talking to her old-fashioned grandfather. Just as she was about to laugh, she heard a familiar voice over the phone:

“Congratulations, Beauty Xiaoye.”

Jiang Yehui smiled. “Same to you, Fu Sheng.”

“Fu Sheng, hurry up! There’s another interview!” his agent called from nearby.

“Goodbye, you two,” Fu Sheng said before hanging up.

Jiang Yehui could tell he’d walked away.

“What’s going on?” Xin Yan asked, totally confused.

Jiang Yehui pursed her lips. “Yan Yan, there’s something I’ve never told you.”

“…What is it?”

“I’m that crusty uncle you were talking about.”

“…What kind of joke is that?”

Jiang Yehui replied seriously, “No need to call me mom—‘sis’ is fine. I’ll write you a script.”

“…”

“Don’t want it? Then forget it.”

“Wha—hell no! Are you serious?!” Xin Yan’s brain finally caught up. “Fairy Zhou? You’re the Zhou family’s fairy?!”

“If that’s how you want to interpret it.”

“Oh my god! How did I never realize?! I’m such an idiot! No, wait—I’m actually lucky beyond belief! My bestie is Fairy Zhou! Quick, write me a script! With me as the director and you as the screenwriter, we’ll dominate the entertainment world!”

Jiang Yehui couldn’t help laughing. The gloom from her earlier phone call with her mother had completely vanished, thanks to Xin Yan.

It was funny—she and Xin Yan were total opposites, yet they were the best of friends.

If Xin Yan hadn’t lived next door to her grandfather’s house, their paths would’ve never crossed. Their worlds were just too different.

Her dad was a famous director in China, her biological mom had remarried a foreigner and was traveling the world, and her stepmom wasn’t even thirty yet.

She’d basically been raised freely in London—studying directing, living alone in a massive villa with a housekeeper to cook and clean.

She smoked, drank, had tattoos, cursed like a sailor, and never sat properly. But every now and then she’d dress modestly, cover her tattoos with long sleeves, and behave like the most well-mannered schoolgirl when inviting Jiang Yehui over to hang out.

When she was with Xin Yan, she never had to worry about image. If she wanted to sprawl out, she sprawled. She hated the smell of smoke, but would still drink with her.

She’d met Ye Huai at Xin Yan’s house—but that was a story she no longer bothered to recall.

Snapping out of the memory, she reminded Xin Yan, “Only you and Fu Sheng know about Fairy Zhou. Don’t forget to keep it a secret.”

Because Fu Sheng was involved, she hadn’t told anyone else.

Xin Yan was puzzled. “You two have known each other a long time?”

“Mm, quite a while.”

“What’s your relationship with him?”

Jiang Yehui noticed her friend’s nervous tone and laughed. “I’ll tell you some other time. But don’t worry—I have no intention of stealing your idol.”

“Hmph, you’re a married woman anyway—you wouldn’t dare! Wait, Xiaoye,” Xin Yan suddenly sounded serious. “Guess who I just saw?”

“Who?”

“Gu Jingcheng! He came to the celebration too!”

Jiang Yehui raised her brows. “Who’s he with?”

Xin Yan answered furiously, “He was talking to Lu Mingming. They even took photos together.”

“Lu Mingming won an award today. It’s normal for the boss to congratulate her. Besides, Stellar Chronicle was produced by Mingji.”

“Shouldn’t he be on his honeymoon with you?”

Suddenly remembering the earlier pillow-talk question, Xin Yan seemed to realize something. “Wait… you two really aren’t compatible in bed?”

Jiang Yehui was momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond.

“Oh my god! So just because sex didn’t go well, he ditched the honeymoon? Now he’s cozying up to another woman at an event while you’re all alone on some remote island?!”

Jiang Yehui rubbed her forehead. “I’m doing great here. Having a blast, really! Don’t make me sound like some abandoned housewife.”

But Xin Yan thought she was just putting on a brave face and got even angrier. “No way—I’m going to confront him right now! This is too much!”

After saying that, she really did walk toward Gu Jingcheng. From afar, she saw him exchanging a few words and a handshake with Fu Sheng, and as he seemed about to leave, she quickly followed after him.

She trailed him all the way to the elevator before calling out, “Gu Jingcheng!”

Gu Jingcheng turned around, paused for a moment, then recalled she was one of the bridesmaids at the wedding. He nodded politely, “Miss Xin?”

“Your wife just called. Don’t you think you should say something to her?”

Xin Yan held out the phone, her tone not exactly friendly.

Gu Jingcheng glanced at the ongoing call on the screen, then looked back at her. His dark, deep eyes were piercing. He coldly said a few words, “I’m sorry, I’m busy right now.”

Then he turned and continued walking into the elevator.

Xin Yan was left stunned at the elevator entrance.

Assistant Jin, following behind Gu Jingcheng, offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Xin.” Then he pressed the floor button.

Xin Yan watched the numbers go down, patted her chest, and let out a deep breath. The way Gu Jingcheng had just looked at her was truly terrifying—completely different from the noble prince charming he appeared to be at the wedding.

She glanced at the phone—it had been hung up at some point.

Inside the elevator, Assistant Jin was reporting the schedule for the next day.

Gu Jingcheng’s face was cold and stern. Suddenly, he interrupted, “Phone.”

Assistant Jin was a little surprised, but quickly pulled out Gu Jingcheng’s private phone from his bag.

Gu Jingcheng opened the contact list, scrolled a bit, and found her name: “Yu Zhou Jiang Miss.”

As the elevator doors opened, the call connected just in time.

He stepped out briskly, not slowing his pace. She only picked up after the third ring.

He was the first to speak: “What is it?”

“Huh?” Jiang Yehui’s startled voice came through.

After a couple of seconds of silence, he prompted, “Your friend said you had something to say.”

“Oh, nothing. Just… eat well, sleep well, drink plenty of water, okay.”

She hung up.

Gu Jingcheng halted mid-step. Looking at the screen of the ended call, his mood suddenly turned irritable.