Zhu Wenshu’s bewilderment was completely cut short by Ling Chen’s sudden sharp tone.

She didn’t even dare to breathe heavily, staring blankly at the two men before her, unable to understand why the atmosphere had suddenly turned like this.

But there wasn’t a trace of tension on Ling Xingyan’s face.

“I brought some drinks on my way over, thinking I shouldn’t neglect your guest.” His tone was light as he raised a hand to adjust the half-rim glasses on his nose bridge, his gaze lifting to meet Ling Chen’s. “What are you so tense about.”

The two men were about the same height.

But because Ling Chen was standing on the step, he appeared to tower a head above Ling Xingyan.

“Don’t go hitting on every pretty girl you see.” He set his jaw, sweeping a light glance over Ling Xingyan, a note of warning in his voice. “Watch your words and conduct.”

Zhu Wenshu abruptly raised her eyes, looking with some surprise at that face so strikingly similar to Ling Siyuan’s.

She hadn’t expected this refined, scholarly-looking man to actually be a philanderer who flirted with women everywhere.

And to think he was Ling Chen’s manager, no less—so careless of his own position, not even worried about dragging his own artist into a scandal.

Wait a second—

What had Ling Chen just called him?

Ling. Xing. Yan?

He was also surnamed Ling?

Could they be brothers?

While a jumble of thoughts flashed through Zhu Wenshu’s mind, Ling Xingyan let out a soft laugh.

He curved his lips and stepped back, raising both hands, looking at Ling Chen with a smile in his eyes.

“OK.”

Then he turned to look at Zhu Wenshu. “Sorry, that was presumptuous of me.”

“It’s—it’s fine.”

The atmosphere held an indescribable strangeness, and Zhu Wenshu felt it wasn’t right to linger any longer. “I’ll get going then? Won’t keep you from your work.”

Hearing Zhu Wenshu’s words, Ling Chen didn’t even glance at her, just gave a tight-lipped sound of acknowledgment before turning and walking back toward the piano.

The tension that had been on the verge of erupting dissipated along with the sound of Ling Chen flipping through his sheet music.

Zhu Wenshu retreated silently without a word.

Ling Xingyan kept watching until her figure completely disappeared through the door, and only then took off his glasses, turning back to say, “Let’s head home, then.”

The tranquil autumn night carried a gentle cool breeze, the darkness thick as ink.

As the car drove into the tunnel, the hazy noise outside the window vanished, making the interior of the car seem even quieter.

After a good while, Ling Xingyan, having finished replying to a message, looked up at Ling Chen beside him, who had his eyes closed as if sleeping.

But whether Ling Chen was actually asleep or not, Ling Xingyan could tell.

He thought for a moment, then spoke to the assistant sitting in the front seat. “By the way, Manman.”

“Hm?”

Lu Manman turned around. “What’s up?”

“That guest who came to the music room tonight… did you have the driver take her home?”

As he said this, Ling Xingyan was watching Ling Chen.

But Ling Chen still showed no reaction.

“I asked, but Brother Zhou wasn’t around at the time, and when she heard she’d have to wait about twenty minutes, she said she’d just call a car herself and go home.”

Lu Manman said.

Ling Xingyan withdrew his gaze.

“You still don’t understand how hard it is to get a car around here. Sometimes when A-Zhe and the others have been drinking and can’t drive, they end up waiting over an hour.”

“Ah…”

Lu Manman immediately grew flustered. “Then would it… would…”

“Let it go this time.”

Lu Manman had originally been publicity staff at the studio; seeing that she kept her mouth shut and never asked more than necessary, Ling Xingyan had brought her over to be Ling Chen’s assistant, intending to groom her as his own successor.

But she was still young, and sometimes was indeed a bit careless in her work. “In the future, think things through more carefully when hosting guests—arrange a driver in advance.”

Lu Manman: “Oh, okay, got it. I’ll remember.”

After they finished talking, Ling Xingyan glanced at Ling Chen again, silently sighed, and also turned to look out the window.

He’d just been momentarily unable to resist his curiosity and asked one extra question—did Ling Chen really need to give him the cold shoulder for this long?

Over ten minutes later, Lu Manman got out of the car at the entrance to her own residential compound.

Once only three people remained in the car, Ling Xingyan tapped his fingers against his thigh, wanting to say something again.

But when he turned to look, Ling Chen was already scrolling through his phone.

He opened his mouth, but hesitated for a long time without knowing how to begin.

Never mind.

He withdrew his gaze and turned to look out the window instead.

Just then, the person beside him spoke up flatly. “Say whatever you want to say.”

“?”

Ling Xingyan sat up straight, leaning a little closer toward Ling Chen.

“Well, this time you’re the one who told me to say it.”

Ling Chen glanced at him, his expression cold, and continued looking at his phone.

“Actually, you already know what I want to say.”

Ling Xingyan had originally wanted to ask whether Zhu Wenshu was that “Classmate Little Silkworm,” but he felt he already had his answer, so there was no need to waste his breath.

“What are your plans now?”

Ling Chen: “No plans.”

“Is that so?”

Ling Xingyan laughed. “Honestly, I’m a bit puzzled by you. But first let me make my position clear—I’m not against you dating. As your older brother, I want the best for you more than anyone. I just don’t want you to hide it from me. You know how terrifying public opinion is these days—I have to nip things in the bud, or else if some scandal breaks out, I’ll be caught completely off guard, kept in the dark.”

Ling Chen, without looking up from his phone, gave a light snort. “You sure think a lot.”

“How can I not think a lot?” Ling Xingyan rubbed his brow. “This isn’t a small matter.”

Ling Chen: “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Ling Xingyan: “Didn’t mean what way? Liking someone but not pursuing them?”

Ling Chen didn’t respond.

“No way.” Ling Xingyan looked utterly astonished. “A big star still going in for secret crushes?”

After a silence lasting several seconds, Ling Chen lowered his eyes and continued looking at his phone, uttering a few words very softly.

“What’s a big star worth.”

“Fine, suit yourself. If you’re not going to pursue her, then don’t—that saves me the worry, actually.”

Ling Xingyan smirked faintly, slowly leaning his head against the window, and said in a drawn-out, indifferent tone, “Ah, it’s just that I wonder whether the young lady got home safely, this late at night.”

The newly developed park was indeed hard to get a car in, but Zhu Wenshu was lucky—a rideshare driver passing by happened to accept her order, and she didn’t have to wait long.

The trip back was smooth the whole way, and by the time she got home, it was only eight thirty.

The light was on in Ying Fei’s room, the door left unattended, and the faint sound of her arguing with someone on the phone could be heard.

Zhu Wenshu tiptoed past, gently closing her own door behind her before returning to her room.

Taking off her coat and sitting down at her desk, she stared at the small potted plant in front of her, her mind once again circling around the tune Ling Chen had played by her ear that day.

There had been no lyrics, no accompaniment from other instruments—she’d only heard it once, casually, yet the melody seemed to have taken root in her mind, lodging itself there.

At this moment, she finally began to understand why Ling Chen had become a household name in such a short time.

Nowadays, some new songs, in their pursuit of being unconventional, twisted themselves into something incomprehensible, making it hard for anyone besides fans to want to put them on repeat.

But Ling Chen’s melodies always struck a delicate balance between being lively and unconventional, and being catchy and easy to hum along to.

This was probably what people called “heaven chasing after you to feed you”—sheer natural talent.

This was why his general public appeal was so high—he was the only male celebrity Zhu Wenshu had seen, in all these years, with so many “genuine, active fans” among her own circle of friends.

After turning things about him over in her mind for a moment, Zhu Wenshu suddenly felt like listening to what Ling Chen’s other songs sounded like.

She dug out a CD she’d bought a few days earlier from her cabinet, tore off the plastic wrap, and holding the disc, glanced around the room, when she suddenly came to her senses—

In this day and age, who still owned a CD player?!

Holding the CD, she didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused.

She could only blame herself for having been captivated by the cover at the time, spending money on what amounted to a decorative item.

In the end, Zhu Wenshu helplessly placed the CD on her bookshelf, and to avoid feeling like she’d wasted her money, made a point of displaying the pretty cover outward.

Then she opened her iPad, connected it to the Bluetooth speaker by her bed, randomly picked one of Ling Chen’s playlists to shuffle, listened quietly for a while, and then opened her laptop to start preparing lessons.

The weekend night was noisier than usual, with the sounds of traffic and honking rising up from below, unable to be blocked out even with the window closed.

But Zhu Wenshu was hardly disturbed by the noise at all, working diligently at her desk for over two hours.

When she finally closed her laptop and looked up, the hour hand had already reached ten.

She stretched and stood up, one hand kneading her sore neck, the other scooping up her phone.

During the hour or two she’d spent preparing lessons, quite a few parents had sent her messages, and replying to them one by one took quite a while.

Scrolling down further, she saw an unread message from an hour ago in her conversation with Ling Chen.

c: Home yet?

Zhu Wenshu’s gaze went still for a moment.

Ever since college, whenever she went out with friends—male or female—if it was a night out and they were heading home, they’d always have the habit of checking in with each other to confirm they were safe.

If there were boys among the group, most of them would also proactively ask whether she’d gotten home safely.

But today, Zhu Wenshu hadn’t let Ling Chen know she was home, because she’d figured a star like him probably didn’t have that kind of habit that ordinary guys did.

Now it seemed her thinking had been incomplete.

“Already home—forgot to let you know when I got back.”

She’d just finished typing when, before she could send it, the screen was suddenly interrupted—

Ling Chen was calling her.

“Hello?”

As she answered the call, Zhu Wenshu sat down at the head of her bed. “What’s up?”

“Are you—”

Ling Chen had just said one syllable when he suddenly stopped.

Zhu Wenshu, thinking the connection had lagged, said “hello” again. “Can you hear me?”

“Mm.”

An instant later, Ling Chen’s voice sounded low and steady. “I can hear you.”

Zhu Wenshu: “I got—”

Ling Chen: “Did you get—”

The two voices fell at the same time and stopped at the same time.

After a brief silence, it was Ling Chen who spoke first.

“Home already?”

“Yeah, got home a while ago.”

Zhu Wenshu said, “I was in a bit of a rush getting back, forgot to let you know—sorry about that.”

Ling Chen: “Why were you in such a rush to get home?”

“?”

Zhu Wenshu was a bit thrown by the question, not sure how to answer for a moment.

“I was just in a hurry to get home to… work.”

After saying this, she figured Ling Chen might be a little annoyed that she’d taken so long to reply to his message, which was why he was asking, so she added, “I was too absorbed earlier—I only just saw your message, and I was about to reply when you called.”

“Absorbed in work?”

It was very quiet on the other end of the line, not a hint of background noise, so Zhu Wenshu could clearly catch the rising inflection at the end of Ling Chen’s words. “Or absorbed in something else?”

Zhu Wenshu: “Huh?”

Through the receiver, Ling Chen let out a soft laugh.

“So what are you doing right now?”

Zhu Wenshu looked down at her empty hands—she could hardly say she’d just been sitting there spacing out.

“I… wasn’t doing anything.”

Ling Chen: “Alright, then I won’t bother you any further.”

“Huh?”

A third question mark practically materialized over Zhu Wenshu’s head; she couldn’t quite follow the logic of this phone call.

The next second, she heard him say flatly, “Take your time listening, then.”

The call ended, and Zhu Wenshu remained in the same position, not moving, still not understanding what Ling Chen had meant.

Not until her attention slowly refocused did she register it—Ling Chen’s song, surrounding the entire room in 3D stereo.

All at once, an inexplicable flush of red rushed up Zhu Wenshu’s cheeks.