Actually, from the whole business of Liang Yan being Li’ang, Qiao Qi had already come to understand that no matter how shocking something seemed, there was always a traceable thread behind it.

On her way back to set, her mind wandered back to her first time working with Lin Chu. Both newcomers to the entertainment industry—so how had he ended up with such a high-end car and living arrangement?

From what she remembered, Lin Chu was an artist with a very clearly defined public image.

Whether among industry people or fans, the information circulating about Lin Chu always painted the same picture: discovered as an ordinary person, started with commercials, cold-looking on the surface but genuinely kind at heart—even a bit simple, a bit overly earnest.

He was quite tall, and with a large frame, appeared somewhat burly; his physique was well-defined, and both his hands were calloused.

Because he loved working out.

In the public eye, he was a man of few words, uninterested in women, not eager for quick success, not chasing fame or fortune—a man who only cared about gym equipment.

But Qiao Qi remembered once chatting with Cheng Yueming, when the girl had been in the middle of a relationship. Even though it was a secret one, she couldn’t help but let her bias toward Lin Chu slip into her words—she loved bringing him up. Once, she’d told Qiao Qi that she and Lin Chu had met by chance at a hotel.

Later, she’d accidentally gotten his clothes dirty, and he’d had to go back to his room to change.

No one had noticed anything off about that detail at the time, but Qiao Qi suddenly caught onto something now—that hotel wasn’t one you could just book with money.

Especially that particular floor Cheng Yueming had been on.

Without Director Cheng, Cheng Yueming herself probably wouldn’t have been able to book a room there.

As for Liang Yan, he probably had to pull not just his top-of-industry status, but also the Liang family young master identity to get in.

A place so particular about identity and status—how had Lin Chu gotten a room there?

Because of this, Qiao Qi had no mood for messing around with Liang Yan all day; she poured what little energy she had left into her script and her work.

Liang Yan, meanwhile, glued himself within a meter of Qiao Qi every break, giving her a look pitiful enough to practically announce to the world “Qiao Qi and I have something going on.”

Qiao Qi ignored him completely at first, but once the rest of the set started joining in on watching her too, she realized she couldn’t keep playing dead.

So, taking advantage of a filming opportunity, she channeled her spoiled young-heiress character and gave “Officer” Liang a thorough, satisfying scolding.

…That scene got approved on the first take.

The director even praised Qiao Qi, “That was really well acted.”

Qiao Qi smiled and said, “Thank you.”

Liang Yan, aggrieved, said, “Whether that was acting or not, you know full well yourself.”

Qiao Qi shot back, “Whether that was acting or not, you know full well yourself.”

Liang Yan: “…”

Cheng Yueming, who happened to catch this little couple’s spat, licked at her lollipop and skipped over with a grin. “What’s going on? You two fighting?”

Liang Yan glanced over at the sound of her voice. Cheng Yueming had always been well-behaved; aside from occasionally going shopping with Xu Lu during breaks from set work, she’d stopped going out entirely once she started dating, staying obediently on set with nowhere else to go.

Looking at the little girl beside him, wearing her Cherry Maruko hat, Liang Yan found himself, in a daze, recalling that she’d been the only genuinely well-behaved kid around him when he was young.

Obediently going to school, obediently graduating, obediently studying abroad, obediently bringing home work that made her parents proud.

Even though she’d lost her birth mother early on, she’d never once made trouble with her stepmother.

It was as if she’d never gone through a rebellious phase at all, growing smoothly and effortlessly into the graceful young woman she was now.

Truthfully, she counted as something like half a sister to him.

Then, thinking back to what he’d overheard Lin Chu say at the stairwell, Liang Yan couldn’t help but frown deeply.

The moment he frowned, Cheng Yueming assumed the young master was angry and about to hit her; startled, she ducked her neck and, no longer running her mouth, turned to leave.

Liang Yan called out to stop her. “Mingming.”

Compared to “Little Yue,” “Mingming” was actually Cheng Yueming’s childhood nickname.

Only, after her mother left, no one had called her with that kind of intimacy anymore.

Now, with Liang Yan suddenly calling out that name, even Cheng Yueming herself felt a bit unaccustomed to it; she froze for a moment before letting out a delayed “ah,” “Wh-what’s wrong?”

Liang Yan looked deeply into the girl’s bright eyes, and after a long moment, still couldn’t manage to say anything.

He just, unlike his usual habit of calling her an idiot every other sentence, rarely put on the air of an older brother and said, “Nothing. Have a good wrap today.”

When a normally cunning, sly fox suddenly smiles at a little rabbit, does the rabbit think he’s had a change of heart, or that he’s up to no good?

—Of course he’s up to no good!!

So Cheng Yueming slipped away even faster, greased heels and all.

All of this fell within view of Qiao Qi, standing off to the side, wrapped up in a military coat given to her by the props team, bundled into a tight little ball, a knit hat on her head, a scarf around her neck.

The scarf had been pulled up to cover half her face.

Leaving only a pair of eyes visible, made even more striking by the makeup artist’s skillful touch.

And it was those same eyes that caught, in this cold, deep winter, the trace of careful tenderness that had crossed Liang Yan’s face.

He probably… wasn’t a scumbag after all.

Qiao Qi smiled faintly and turned to walk away.

—

By the time Liang Yan got back to his hotel room, he happened to run into Lin Chu, wheeling a suitcase, heading out. Lin Chu had a Bluetooth earpiece in, speaking in a low voice the whole way.

Probably in a hurry, he walked with his head down, steps quick.

Rushing to see who?

Liang Yan smiled coldly, and as they passed each other, “accidentally” bumped his shoulder.

Perhaps out of some guilty conscience, Lin Chu’s eyes went wide instantly; he snapped his head up, saw it was Liang Yan, whose brows knit briefly before he greeted him casually, “Just got back?”

Liang Yan gave a perfunctory “mm,” lifting an eyelid to look at Lin Chu.

Actually, in terms of height, the two were fairly evenly matched, but in terms of build, Liang Yan was noticeably slighter.

Yet Liang Yan’s inherently privileged upbringing and superior circumstances gave him a presence that clearly outmatched Lin Chu’s.

The disparity made Lin Chu uncomfortable; he shifted subtly to the side, widening the distance between them.

Liang Yan noticed keenly, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking arc.

He made no effort to hide it, and Lin Chu, naturally, saw it perfectly clearly.

Lin Chu froze, unsure what he’d done to offend this young master.

“In a hurry to head out?” Liang Yan asked.

Lin Chu gave an “mm,” his eyes somewhat cautious. “Something you need, Teacher Liang?”

Liang Yan stretched lazily, unbothered. “Nope.”

Lin Chu frowned slightly, gave an “oh,” and nodded with feigned politeness, “I’ll head off then.”

Liang Yan let out a short laugh, offering “kindly,” “It’s been raining in Hu City these past couple days—slippery roads, be careful.”

Lin Chu’s brow furrowed.

Liang Yan said nothing more and walked off.

Lin Chu watched Liang Yan’s retreating figure, his frown deepening. Several seconds later, heavy with thought, he left too.

The moment Lin Chu vanished around the corner, Liang Yan had just reached his own door. He was about to swipe his key card when a very faint “click” sounded from the room next door.

—The sound of a door being closed with deliberately muffled care.

Liang Yan paused, turning sharply, his gaze landing on the room diagonally across from his own.

If he remembered correctly, that was He Nianyi’s room.

He Nianyi?

Liang Yan mulled it over for a moment, weighing things carefully in his mind, but decided to walk over anyway.

Then, of all rotten luck, just as he raised his hand to knock, the door beside it opened.

—It was Qiao Qi.

She wore a white lambswool coat, zipped all the way up, her sharp little chin tucked in, her hair left undone, still styled in the big loose waves the stylist had arranged for filming.

Probably tired, her eyelids drooped drowsily half-shut; combined with her outfit, she looked like some sheltered little lamb who hadn’t seen much of the world.

But the very next second, her eyes snapped open.

…Transformed into a she-wolf.

Liang Yan hadn’t expected things to develop this way at all; he stared at Qiao Qi, momentarily dazed, before catching himself and glancing at the door he’d been about to knock on. “…Damn it!”

“Wait, no, I had something to ask…”

Qiao Qi’s drowsy gaze turned into flat, icy indifference. “Oh, go right ahead.”

Then she slammed the door shut with a “bang—”

Liang Yan: “…”

Sometimes, heaven really was unfair.

The scumbag out there plotted his crimes, swindling naive girls without ever once getting caught.

Meanwhile, him—Liang Yan—a man who at twenty-six had only just handed over his first love, and handed it over to an online-romance gentleman-companion of his no less, was walking this relationship path on thin ice, stepping into every possible pitfall along the way.

Is that fair?

Is that fair?

IS THAT FAIR?!

…Not fair. But life had to go on regardless.

And coaxing his girlfriend had to go on too.

So Liang Yan gave up on knocking; his own love life was messy enough as it was—did he really have the energy to worry about anyone else’s?

—Mainly, with Lin Chu temporarily out of the picture, he figured he could focus on himself first.

He ducked into his own room instead, grabbed his phone, and got to work.

Liang Yan: [suddenly-appearing.jpg]

No response.

Liang Yan: What were you about to go out and do just now?

Liang Yan: Have dinner yet?

Liang Yan: I haven’t either.

Liang Yan: I’m about to order delivery.

Liang Yan: Eat together?

Liang Yan: What do you want to eat?

Liang Yan: Málà tang, mápí tofu, hot pot casserole, sweet potato noodles, málà xiāngguō?

Liang Yan: The ribs at Qiaotou are good too.

Liang Yan: What do you want to drink?

Liang Yan: Milk tea? Or milk? Or how about taro-and-highland-barley milk?

Under Liang Yan’s tireless efforts, she finally sent back one message.

—[smile]

Liang Yan: “…”

That instant, Liang Yan suddenly recalled a meme that had come up between them before they’d revealed themselves to each other, involving the [smile] Minion emoji.

At the time, he’d taken a chance and posted it on Weibo.

Later, Qiao Qi had posted it too, but at the time, her focus had been on signing with an agency.

So he hadn’t thought much of it.

But now, thinking back…

Had she already known, back then?

So exactly when had she found out?

And how many pitfalls had he unknowingly dug for himself, without even realizing it?

…This kind of thing was simply too much to think about.

Just the thought made his scalp tingle.

So he decided not to think about it, and instead threw caution to the wind.

Liang Yan: I just ran into Lin Chu, dropped a little dig, and then heard something going on in He Nianyi’s room, so I went to ask about it.

Liang Yan: Were you jumping to conclusions again?

Liang Yan: Slandering me in your head again?

Liang Yan: Go stick your head outside and feel that cold wind—that’s the injustice I’m suffering.

Qiao Qi replied a second time.

Qiao Qi: …

Good enough.

As long as there was a reply.

Didn’t matter what it said.

Liang Yan: Heaven and earth can testify to my feelings for you.

Liang Yan: Can you have a little confidence in yourself?

Liang Yan: In this whole world, who else could I possibly want besides you?

Liang Yan: And who else could possibly measure up to me?

Qiao Qi: ………….

Liang Yan: Silence means agreement.

Qiao Qi: Get lost.

Liang Yan: Hehe.

Liang Yan: Not gonna.

Watching the notifications on her phone, which hadn’t stopped much, Qiao Qi curled up on the sofa, gradually finding a sense of safety and familiarity settling in.

She knew she was being unreasonably petty—technically, the identity-hiding thing was a mistake on both their parts—but she couldn’t help but keep giving Liang Yan a hard time about it.

Was giving him a hard time really the point?

No. She just wanted to find some sense of security, through the way he coaxed her with words and actions, for this relationship that had always felt so intangible, so impossible to hold onto.

Only then did she feel like—

this person had really existed.

And really did still exist.

That the feeling wouldn’t change just because he’d moved from her phone into real life.

That it wouldn’t lose its balance just because there’d been a gap between how they’d known each other and who they really were.

But she still felt a lingering strangeness and awkwardness.

She knew Liang Yan probably felt the same way—only, for her sake, out of consideration for her feelings and situation, he was working hard to minimize those negative emotions and their effects.

But this shouldn’t be something left entirely to Liang Yan alone to handle—their disappearance should be left to time.

To the two of them adjusting to each other.

How much longer would it take?

Probably not too long now.

Under the soft lighting, Qiao Qi lowered her eyes, her lashes casting a gentle shadow over her eyelids.

Her features were bright and striking, yet carried no sharp edge.

She smiled faintly, and as she replied to his message, let herself be, for a moment, the “7” from before—without forgetting she was also Qiao Qi.

Qiao Qi: What are you going to say about the Lin Chu thing?

Liang Yan: What are YOU going to say about our thing?

Qiao Qi: …

Qiao Qi: If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so [smile]

Liang Yan: …okay okay okay.

Liang Yan: I’ll talk, I’ll talk, I’ll talk.

Qiao Qi: [smile]

Liang Yan sighed.

He could more or less guess Qiao Qi’s reasoning behind this—probably pursuing some kind of so-called clarity and rationality.

But why couldn’t she understand?

He was, in fact, clear-headed and rational in wanting her—just as he’d said back when he was still Li’ang, wanting a legitimate relationship with her.

But… Liang Yan thought of Qiao Qi’s upbringing in the orphanage, and his eyes gradually darkened.

After a good while, he chose, with a mix of fond indulgence and helplessness, to back down.

After all.

He couldn’t bear to push her.

Liang Yan: How about you talk to her first?

Liang Yan: You girls probably understand each other’s feelings better.

Qiao Qi flushed at the casual term he’d thrown out.

Qiao Qi: Who’s “you girls.”

[Liang Yan recalled a message]

Qiao Qi: “…?”

Liang Yan: You, the girl in question here, should be able to earn the trust of that idiot who got scammed out of her underwear by a scumbag more easily.

Liang Yan: Sorry.

Liang Yan: Wrong wording.

Liang Yan: You’re the girl.

Liang Yan: She who? Don’t know her.

Qiao Qi: …

Where does he come up with all these fancy tricks?

Liang Yan: ???

Liang Yan: She hasn’t been scammed out of her underwear yet, has she?

Liang Yan: Wait, what?

Liang Yan: Things moved that fast?

Liang Yan: I’ve lost, I’ve lost.

Qiao Qi: …

Qiao Qi: Do you want to die?

Liang Yan: Kidding.

Liang Yan: But seriously, Teacher Qiao, please look into this properly.

Qiao Qi paused, and also recognized the seriousness of the matter.

Though male-female relationships were a normal part of the adult world, Cheng Yueming really was still young.

A girl fresh out of school, who didn’t seem to have much dating experience—if her first love turned into something like this, and it wasn’t handled well, it could leave lasting scars.

While thinking it over, Qiao Qi found herself thinking of the Liang Yan she’d ended up with.

She pressed her lips together and smiled, unable to resist the thought: lucky, huh?

The next second, her phone buzzed.

Liang Yan: Also, could Teacher Qiao please ask my girlfriend, when it comes to relationships and getting scammed out of underwear, when does she think would be an appropriate time for that step to happen?

Qiao Qi: …Get lost!!!

Author’s Note: I know what you all want to see.

But like I said, don’t rush me.

I’ve got my own pace. [doge]