It didn’t take a genius to guess what was going through Lin Chu’s mind, especially since, before walking off, he’d swept Qiao Qi and Liang Yan with a distinctly meaningful look — as if to say: Oh, are you two going to kiss too? Let me clear some space for you.

…Clear some space, my ass.

Liang Yan cursed under his breath in fury, lay down alone on a set chair, grabbed a fan from someone nearby without asking, and draped it over his face, playing dead.

At some point, his legs stretched out too far and tripped Cheng Yueming, who, both angry and curious, lifted the fan off his face. “…Ah, Mr. Liang, why are you lying here?”

The moment Liang Yan saw her, he was reminded of that not-so-child-friendly scene he’d just witnessed; his gaze, without meaning to, drifted around Cheng Yueming’s lips, and for a second his eyes stung.

—So gross!

So he shot her a cold smile, then closed his eyes again.

And, in the process, snatched his fan back too.

Cheng Yueming, having no idea what she’d done to offend the young master, felt rather wronged. She turned to glance at Qiao Qi, who was lying nearby, gesturing wordlessly at Young Master Liang across the way to silently ask: What’s up with him?

Right now, seeing Cheng Yueming brought up rather complicated feelings for Qiao Qi too. She hesitated for a moment, then finally opted to shake her head, indicating nothing was wrong.

Or, alternatively, translate that as “I have no idea.”

Cheng Yueming struggled for a while before finally squeezing out an “oh,” then trotted over, grabbed a chair beside Qiao Qi, and lay down too.

The moment she settled in, she picked up her phone as well, corners of her mouth and eyes curving into a smile, fingers flying across the screen.

Anyone could guess who she was messaging.

The next second, Qiao Qi received a WeChat message from Liang Yan on her own phone.

Liang Yan: Ask her.

Qiao Qi: ?

Quietly, she glanced over to her left; Young Master Liang had turned over onto his side at some point, but Qiao Qi could still vaguely make out the cold light from his phone falling across the bridge of his nose.

Liang Yan: Ask her whether she’s dating Lin Chu!

Qiao Qi: Oh.

Qiao Qi: How do I ask that?

Liang Yan: …Subtly, obviously!

Every sentence ending in an exclamation mark.

What was he getting so aggressive about.

She wasn’t the only one whose innocence had just been mistaken for something else.

Qiao Qi pursed her lips, then, unable to resist, picked up her other phone and noticed that most of the punctuation Li’ang used was periods, with the occasional wildly cheerful and playful tilde thrown in.

Even when he actually did use an exclamation point, it was just for show.

Not remotely as aggressive as it seemed.

Tsk.

Turns out the peacock had two different faces.

So she casually sent Li’ang a message.

7: Accidentally got caught up in a rumor with a coworker.

7: And the other person looked all eager to distance themselves from it too.

7: So annoying.

After sending it, she looked over at Cheng Yueming, who was presumably still chatting with Lin Chu, looking pretty happy. A young girl’s romantic feelings usually show all over her face — even without saying a word, you could tell.

Qiao Qi thought about how to be subtle about it, and a few seconds later asked: “Are you dating someone?”

The moment those words left her mouth, two coughing fits erupted, one right after the other.

One belonged to Cheng Yueming, the person in question — coughing while blushing, probably embarrassed to have her secret found out.

The other one… was Liang Yan?

Qiao Qi, dazed, turned to look at the man and found that at some point Liang Yan had sat up, staring at her with a look of shock on his face.

Qiao Qi: “?”

Was something wrong?

The next second, a furious message popped up from the young master on her phone.

Liang Yan: I told you to be subtle, dude!

Liang Yan: Do you even know what subtle means!

Liang Yan: Subtle!

Liang Yan: Want me to smack a whole Chinese dictionary across your face?

Another round of exclamation points.

Qiao Qi wasn’t happy about that either. She lifted her face away from her phone and looked at Liang Yan, clearly displeased, her voice dropping too. “Got it, no need to snap at me.”

Liang Yan: “?”

Was she trying to act cute with him?

Liang Yan couldn’t help studying Qiao Qi closely, and noticed that her lips had curved into a slight pout out of displeasure, her eyes narrowed slightly upward too, the whites showing beneath, making her look both wronged and innocent all at once.

“…” Liang Yan paused for a moment, then, a few seconds later, protested quietly, “How was I snapping at you.”

Qiao Qi, too lazy to bother with him, turned back to Cheng Yueming, whose face was still bright red, and remarked, unconcerned, “You’ve been on your phone a lot lately, huh. Looking pretty happy about something?”

Realizing what that meant, Cheng Yueming let out a delayed “ah” — so her own behavior had given her away after all. Embarrassed, she scratched her head and let out a “hehe,” neither confirming nor denying it.

She didn’t outright admit it either, only offering a light, noncommittal: “Is that so.”

Qiao Qi paused, glanced at Cheng Yueming once more, and, rather sharply for once, sensed something and decided not to press further.

Meanwhile, Liang Yan, who’d clearly heard both of those lines perfectly well but chose not to say a word, popped up on Qiao Qi’s WeChat again.

Liang Yan: Keep going?

Liang Yan: Why’d you stop talking?

Liang Yan: Get to the point already!

Qiao Qi: ?

Qiao Qi: Can’t you tell she doesn’t want to talk about it?

Qiao Qi: She’s a girl — if she were dating someone, she wouldn’t want to hold back from flaunting the romance a little. There’s really only one explanation.

Qiao Qi: Lin Chu must be the one telling her not to say anything.

Qiao Qi: And if Lin Chu’s the one telling her not to say anything, then he’s definitely not going to go around telling other people anything else either.

Qiao Qi: Your innocence is safe with me, Teacher Liang. [smile]

This was the first time since adding Liang Yan on WeChat that Qiao Qi had sent this many characters in a row — and yet it earned her no response at all, not even a simple “got it.”

Because he was busy sending messages on his other phone.

For a split second, Qiao Qi found herself, absurdly, wanting to argue on behalf of her own main account — did “Qiao Qi” not even deserve a single reply from him?

Not even a single word?

Liangou: What rumor?

Liangou: What garbage company would even go around spreading a rumor like that?

Liangou: Wait?

Liangou: He’s not happy about it? What right does he have not to be happy about it?

A few more seconds passed.

Liangou: We are in an online relationship, right?

Qiao Qi: “…………”

Now that was a good question.

Qiao Qi couldn’t think of how to answer, so, in perfect fairness, she just shot a question mark right back at him.

7: ?

Liangou: Don’t you want to flaunt the romance too?

Liangou: Quick, post the screenshot to your Moments.

Liangou: Let everyone know you’re already spoken for!

Liangou: The rumors will crumble on their own!

Liangou: Aren’t I smart!

…Pfft.

Qiao Qi couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing right then and there.

That unexpected burst of laughter drew both heads to turn her way at once.

The two of them moved in such perfect unison that Qiao Qi caught it from the corner of her eye, immediately stifled her laughter, and cupped her phone in her palm.

She glanced to her right first, gave Cheng Yueming a calm smile. “Hm?”

Cheng Yueming thought she’d misheard something, shook her head, and went back to chatting with her partner.

Satisfied, Qiao Qi turned her attention away, then glanced to her left toward Liang Yan; her expression wavered ever so slightly for a second, but with impressive self-control, she managed a mostly blank face and asked, “What is it?”

She’d hoped he’d play along and act like nothing had happened too, but Liang Yan calmly shot her a look and asked, “What are you laughing at?”

Qiao Qi’s gaze darted quickly to his hand and noticed he too was cupping his phone in his palm; unable to help herself, she blurted out, “Does Teacher Liang have two phones too?”

Liang Yan answered with total confidence, “Five, actually. The other three are at the hotel, at home, and at the studio.”

Qiao Qi: “…Okay.”

“Impressive, right?”

Qiao Qi: “…Very impressive, very impressive, very impressive.”

Impressive enough to make her want to scream.

Choked by Liang Yan’s main account, Qiao Qi turned around and, with equal confidence, went to go choke Liang Yan’s secret account instead.

Whoever owes a debt should pay it back.

That’s an eternal truth of life.

7: This is my secondary account.

7: I’m not posting to Moments.

Liangou: ???

Liangou: You added me on your secondary account??

Liangou: How many years have we known each other?

Liangou: Am I not even worthy of appearing in your main account’s friends list?

Liangou: I’m hurt.

…This man had way too much drama in him.

So Qiao Qi asked, straight to the point.

7: Is this your main account?

Liangou: …

7: [smile]

7: Still worthy?

Liangou: ummmmm

Liangou: Actually, main or secondary account doesn’t matter, what matters is who’s behind the account.

Liangou: I’m not that unreasonable, I don’t care which account it’s on.

Liangou: What matters is being important to you.

Total dog logic.

Qiao Qi figured that if she wasn’t currently choosing not to poke through this paper window, she’d have a hundred reasons to force her way onto his main account.

And then expose him as the popular actor Liang Yan, and let him know exactly what a beating from society felt like.

But there was no rush for that right now.

Qiao Qi thought this over, glancing leisurely to her left, watching at her ease as the man’s features grew subtly focused, absorbed in his phone chat, a faint silver sheen of cold light lying across his eyes — like a stray bit of starlight stolen in broad daylight.

Just then, the set assistant called out for Qiao Qi from not far off, telling her filming was about to start; Qiao Qi slowly pulled her gaze away from Liang Yan’s face, gave a small smile, and stood up to respond to the assistant: “Coming.”

Naturally, phones weren’t allowed during filming, so Qiao Qi, as usual, put her phone in the bag beside her lounge chair — in her hurry, she hadn’t zipped it up, and after she left, Cheng Yueming, from her particular angle, happened to notice Qiao Qi’s phone in the bag lighting up nonstop.

Curious, she said, “Qiao Qi’s phone keeps lighting up.”

Beside her, Liang Yan turned his head at that, replying with little interest, “Oh, really.”

Then went straight back to messaging his pinned online romance contact.

Cheng Yueming said, “Still going. Must be her partner, huh? So clingy.”

Liang Yan gave another disinterested “oh.”

But after thinking it over, he still couldn’t help pushing back a little: “Sending a lot of messages doesn’t necessarily mean someone’s clingy.”

Cheng Yueming, a total novice at romance, asked earnestly, “Then what does it mean?”

Liang Yan thought back to what he himself had just been doing seconds earlier, messaging his own online partner nonstop, and answered with total confidence, “It could also mean being worried about the other person’s safety.”

Then, having grown a little irritated that the other side still hadn’t replied to him, he lectured Cheng Yueming, “So girls shouldn’t just stop replying to messages over some small disagreement. What if the other person starts imagining all sorts of things and thinks you’ve been kidnapped?”

Cheng Yueming thought it over. “This is a society with laws now, though.”

“Anything’s possible.”

Cheng Yueming: “…Okay.”

But did the other side really have that wild an imagination? Were they a screenwriter too, by any chance?

So Cheng Yueming asked, half-joking, “I wonder what kind of person Qiao Qi’s partner is. I’d love to see what their relationship is actually like day-to-day.”

Only then did Liang Yan turn to look at Cheng Yueming. “Don’t you have a partner of your own?”

Cheng Yueming: “…”

Liang Yan: “What’s so interesting about someone else’s relationship? Isn’t it all the same as yours — hugging whenever there’s nothing else to do—”

“Hm?”

“Never mind.” Liang Yan quickly looked away.

Two or three seconds later, he simply got up and left.

Cheng Yueming: “…?”

What was he so worked up about.

Didn’t he have a partner too?

Why was he still acting so unhappy about it.

Author’s Note: Young Master Liang: Because we can’t hug! Can’t kiss either! Fated to be together but standing face to face without knowing each other! Get it?!

A little short today.

Tomorrow’s the weekend, ten thousand words coming.