Teng Yi held her tightly, kissing her passionately and uninhibitedly. Ruan Yu clung to his neck, responding with ardent tenderness. Their endless kiss greedily attempted to express all the yearning and deep feelings, all the love and care of these past years. Ruan Yu felt her cheeks growing sore and her tongue going numb as if they were melting into one, but neither he wanted to stop, nor did she wish to end it.
At the height of passion, footsteps suddenly echoed in the corridor.
Teng Yi maintained enough presence of mind to care about Ruan Yu’s image. He turned sideways, pulling her head against his chest, shielding her entire body with his own.
It was a hotel staff member passing by. Seeing the two, they assumed it was just an ordinary couple being intimate, didn’t look too closely, and hurriedly passed by with averted eyes.
Once again, they were alone in the corridor.
Ruan Yu looked up, glancing at Teng Yi with flushed cheeks. Teng Yi took her hand.
“Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Mm.”
With Teng Yi’s arrival, Ruan Yu’s appetite improved.
She had thought that after such a major incident, she wouldn’t be able to taste food for days, but when she was with him, even troublesome matters didn’t seem so troublesome anymore.
At the table, Teng Yi initially said nothing, waiting until she had eaten and drunk her fill before asking about what had happened at the art festival.
“I can’t explain it clearly either.” Ruan Yu had thought about it all night but still felt she hadn’t made a mistake.
Having been in the hosting industry for so long, she knew which parts were important and which details couldn’t be mistaken. That phone number—she had read it from the script, not even shifting her gaze. How could she have possibly read six as nine?
“Do you still have the script?” Teng Yi asked.
“I can’t find it.”
“How could it be lost?”
After leaving the stage, Ruan Yu went directly to the makeup room, but before she could even settle down, Xiuxiu rushed in saying there was trouble. She was summoned to Jiayue’s conference room, where she endured over an hour of harsh criticism. By the time she recovered her senses and thought to check the script, it was already gone when she returned.
“Is the makeup room private?”
“It’s supposed to be private, but that day many staff members were coming and going, and once the event ended, the cleaning staff came in to tidy up. They probably threw it away as trash.”
Teng Yi pondered, feeling the situation was suspicious, especially the disappearance of the script.
Ruan Yu felt the same way, but now she had no evidence, and she couldn’t even be one hundred percent certain whether the mistake had been hers or in the script itself.
After they left the restaurant, they had only walked a few steps when Teng Yi alertly noticed someone following them.
“Seems like there are reporters,” Teng Yi looked at Ruan Yu. “Should we split up?”
She was currently in the eye of the storm—if rumors were to surface at this moment, it would do her more harm than good.
“No.” Ruan Yu stuck close to Teng Yi like a petulant child. “No matter what happens, I don’t want to walk separately from you anymore.”
Teng Yi was moved. He curved his lips into a smile and reached for her hand.
“Alright, then we won’t separate.”
They walked hand in hand openly on the street, but the shadow trailing them remained persistent.
Unable to shake them off, Teng Yi found it strange. When he turned around, he saw Zhou Xihe, whom he hadn’t seen in many years.
Zhou Xihe wore a black baseball cap and dressed inconspicuously.
Ruan Yu had thought they wouldn’t meet again so soon after parting yesterday, let alone encounter him together with Teng Yi.
She secretly observed Teng Yi, whose expression was blank, but it was clear this reunion brought him no joy.
Indeed, how could it bring joy?
Teng Yi had almost forgotten Zhou Xihe’s existence, and this unexpected encounter forcibly pulled his thoughts back to those years. Their last meeting had been the confrontation at the bar, where Zhou Xihe had left full of ambition for stardom as if success was just around the corner. But seeing him now, the brilliance in his eyes had long since dimmed—clearly, these years hadn’t been kind to him either.
“Yi…” Zhou Xihe removed his cap, ran his hand through his hair, and lifted the corners of his mouth slightly toward Teng Yi.
Teng Yi nodded slightly but didn’t speak.
Ruan Yu could tell Teng Yi had no intention of reminiscing with Zhou Xihe.
“Zhou Xihe, didn’t we just meet yesterday? Why are you following us today?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you,” Zhou Xihe looked at Ruan Yu.
“Talk to me?”
“Yes, could we find somewhere to sit down?”
“No need, just say what you need to say here.”
Zhou Xihe looked around—the street was busy with passersby, many of whom recognized Ruan Yu and were pointing and whispering.
The street wasn’t a good place for conversation.
“It’s about you misreading the number yesterday,” Zhou Xihe lowered his voice. “Let’s find a quiet place to talk. I have no other intentions.”
While Ruan Yu was hesitating, Teng Yi spoke up.
“Let’s go to the café across the street.”
There happened to be a café across the road.
The three entered and requested a private room.
Once inside, Zhou Xihe got straight to the point, describing what he had seen and heard at the flower art festival yesterday.
From the moment Zhou Xihe received the backup dancing job for Miya, he learned from Miya’s manager that Ruan Yu would be hosting the art festival’s opening ceremony. He had planned to find Ruan Yu that day to ask about Teng Yi, so upon arriving, he asked about the location of her makeup room.
But before finding the makeup room, he had first encountered the other host, Shan Anxin.
Shan Anxin had been standing in the hallway, talking on the phone with someone. Zhou Xihe had heard her mention Ruan Yu’s name, so he had paid attention.
“Yes, it’s changed, just that one number difference. No matter how clever Ruan Yu is, she won’t be able to notice it.”
Those were Shan Anxin’s exact words.
Zhou Xihe hadn’t understood what Shan Anxin meant at the time. He had been about to look for Ruan Yu when the lead dancer called him back.
Busy with rehearsal, he had forgotten about it, and when he met Ruan Yu backstage, he hadn’t thought to mention it. Only after everything ended, when he heard people discussing Ruan Yu’s live broadcast incident, did he connect the two events.
Zhou Xihe had rushed to the makeup room, but Ruan Yu was already gone. Only a cleaning lady was sneaking out of the room.
The cleaning lady hadn’t seen Zhou Xihe and bumped right into him as she turned, accidentally falling.
Zhou Xihe quickly apologized and helped her up, but she ignored him completely. She had dusted herself off and quickly left the makeup room with her head down. While Zhou Xihe was still puzzled, he had spotted the script on the ground.
It was Ruan Yu’s script.
“I thought you might need it, so I picked it up and kept it. I wanted to find you yesterday, but there were many reporters outside your hotel, and I didn’t know which room you were in. I could only wait outside until I saw you come out today.”