Lu Shicheng thought it over, then wrote on his notepad for her to see:

[Tomorrow evening I have to meet some people coming from Ningbo, but it should wrap up by around seven. Why don’t I come find you at your workplace?]

“Then tomorrow I’ll take you for Russian food near Xiude Middle School—there’s a Russian-run restaurant there, their bread is better than any of the ones on Nanjing Road. And there’s also a Cantonese restaurant near Hujiang University that’s more authentic than the famous Sun Ya—really, you’ll see once you try it.”

Every time she named a place, Lu Shicheng nodded without the slightest hesitation.

“Xiao Taozi wants to eat too.” Xiao Taozi, having heard all this food talk, forcibly wedged herself in.

“All right, all right, we’ll bring our Xiao Taozi along too.”

That night once they got home, Xiao Taozi, too excited, chattered on and on to Zhou Sao about what happened at Great World that afternoon.

“Mr. Lu drove the car car bump bump bump—Sister and Xiao Taozi, and Mr. Lu’s car car, di, bump bump bump.”

Then she eagerly showed Zhou Sao all the toys and snacks Lu Shicheng had bought her.

Zhou Sao laughed so hard she couldn’t close her mouth—partly amused by Xiao Taozi’s jumbled retelling, and partly because ever since the Wen family’s troubles began, it had been a long time since she’d seen the two sisters have such a good time. As the closest thing to family the sisters had, she couldn’t help feeling happy right along with them.

Xiao Taozi dragged Zhou Sao off to Wen Tingli’s room to show off the new clothes.

“Sister’s clothes got dirty, Mr. Lu took Sister to buy lots of new dresses.”

Zhou Sao looked puzzled at this. Wen Tingli flushed bright red, pulled Zhou Sao out to sit at the table in the living room, and laid out the two boxes of pastries she’d brought back from Kangle Restaurant that evening.

“These are all for you, please try some.”

Zhou Sao looked flustered. “The stuff outside is so expensive, don’t go thinking of bringing me things next time.”

Wen Tingli picked up a piece of pastry and popped it straight into Zhou Sao’s mouth without further argument. Xiao Taozi clapped her hands, and Zhou Sao ate with a smile, teasing Xiao Taozi as she chewed.

“Does Xiao Taozi like Mr. Lu?”

Xiao Taozi nodded vigorously.

“Then why were you so rude to Mr. Lu this morning?”

Xiao Taozi laughed sheepishly. Wen Tingli was unusually serene tonight, and didn’t join in—she went straight to the back to take a bath.

Coming out after her bath, neither Zhou Sao nor Xiao Taozi were in the living room anymore—only the sound of Xiao Taozi chattering away in the inner room could be heard. Wen Tingli glanced at the phone on the wall, and couldn’t resist picking up the receiver.

She dialed Lu Shicheng’s private line.

“Lu residence. Who’s calling, please?” It wasn’t Lu Shicheng, but a middle-aged man’s voice.

Wen Tingli suddenly felt embarrassed and hastily hung up the phone.

Maybe Lu Shicheng wasn’t home yet… she told herself. She’d only just gotten back to her room when she heard the phone ring again, and ran back to the living room.

“Miss Wen, Young Master Cheng is back.” It was that same voice again, though this time carrying a note of added deference. Soon, the receiver seemed to be handed to someone else.

Wen Tingli’s heart began pounding rapidly.

Lu Shicheng held the receiver between his ear and right shoulder, listening while taking off his coat.

He’d only just gotten home, hadn’t even had time to change yet, when he heard Steward Xu report that someone had called earlier. Steward Xu, quite puzzled, told him the call had gone through fine, but the other party had hung up without saying a word.

Upon hearing this, Lu Shicheng had immediately told Steward Xu to call the Wen residence back.

“How did you know it was me calling just now?” Wen Tingli gave a light cough.

Lu Shicheng’s hand paused in the middle of loosening his tie—it had simply been a gut feeling, one that hadn’t even required conscious thought.

Either way, he’d known it was her.

He smiled silently, pulling off his tie and tossing it onto the bed.

Wen Tingli laughed too, and asked him, “Did you eat well tonight?”

Knowing full well she couldn’t see him, he still nodded instinctively.

She sounded a bit suspicious. “But tonight you only had one steak and said you were full…”

Lu Shicheng spotted a freshly brewed cup of tea sitting on his nightstand, and picked it up to drink while he listened.

“Were you worried about eating me out of house and home? Don’t underestimate me—I can more than afford to treat someone to a meal.”

Lu Shicheng smiled, lowering his eyes to look at the tea in the cup, the amber-colored liquid rippling gently, reminding him of the way Wen Tingli had sat under the Western wall lamp that evening, raising her eyebrows as she talked to him.

Whenever she spoke, she always seemed so full of life—no matter the setting, she could always draw everyone’s attention at a glance.

“How about—” After a brief silence, Wen Tingli spoke up again with renewed enthusiasm, “tomorrow after dinner, why don’t we go catch a movie too? Everyone on the crew says that film is really good, it’s a shame we couldn’t manage it today either…”

Her voice went soft as she said this, and after finishing, she held her breath, waiting.

Lu Shicheng glanced at the jacket he’d just taken off—inside it were two movie tickets.

He’d bought them earlier that evening when he’d driven past the Carlton Theatre, remembering that every time they’d passed a cinema tonight, Wen Tingli had involuntarily glanced out the window with a wistful expression.

“…If you don’t mind, just knock on the wall or the door to let me know,” Wen Tingli said. “I’ll go buy tickets first thing tomorrow morning—this film is really popular right now, if I wait any longer we won’t be able to get any.”

Lu Shicheng was startled, and instinctively opened his bedroom door to check the hallway.

Wen Tingli, hearing no knock for a good while, thought to herself—could it be that Lu Shicheng wouldn’t have that much free time tomorrow evening? That would only leave the weekend, but with Xiao Taozi around on weekends, a movie would be completely out of the question.

Just then, the middle-aged steward’s voice suddenly came through.

“You needn’t buy tickets, I’ve already bought them.” He spoke word by word, as if reciting from a script. “The tickets are for the eight-thirty show tonight—”

Steward Xu did indeed have a note in hand, reading it off while glancing sideways at Lu Shicheng with his beady little eyes.

Lu Shicheng gestured for him to keep going.

“Would eight-thirty be too late? If you think it’s too late, I’ll have someone change it to a time more convenient for you.”

Wen Tingli was stunned, stammering, “The timing’s perfect, then… then it’s settled. Good night.”

Lu Shicheng quickly scrawled a few more words and passed them over. Steward Xu hurriedly read out, “Good, sleep well then. Good night.”

The moment the call ended on her end, Wen Tingli covered her mouth and burst out laughing.

That had really given her a fright just now.

Trust Lu Shicheng to come up with something like this!

Those same words, written out one by one by Lu Shicheng for her to read, always carried a sense of gentleness and respect—but once spoken aloud by that middle-aged steward, they came out sounding indescribably awkward.

She supposed Lu Shicheng had no other choice but to think of this method.

He’d had to let her know he’d already bought the tickets somehow.

Tickets—so Lu Shicheng had thought of exactly the same thing she had.

Wen Tingli smiled to herself, went back to her room and ironed her new dress, humming a tune as she tucked the Great World pass Lu Shicheng had given her into her bag.

Xiao Taozi came in cradling her new doll, and seeing this, ran happily to her sister’s side.

“Xiao Taozi wants to go to Great World again, bring Mr. Lu!”

“Does it have to be Mr. Lu?”

“Has to be.” Xiao Taozi nodded vigorously.

“All right then, Mr. Lu is a pretty good boy too, I suppose we could bring him along,” Wen Tingli said, pressing her forehead against Xiao Taozi’s and laughing without stopping.

After putting away the pass, she opened her suitcase and took out a large-denomination bank note.

She hadn’t realized the prices at Kangle Restaurant had gone up again tonight, to the point that she’d nearly come up short when settling the bill. Good thing she’d asked Lu Shicheng ahead of time to wait outside with Xiao Taozi—otherwise, if he’d seen her counting out silver dollars one by one, he’d surely have insisted on “covering it” for her again.

To prevent this kind of thing from happening again, Wen Tingli decided to carry more cash on her from now on. Of course, compared to all the gifts Lu Shicheng had given her, a hundred meals would be nothing—but this was at least a matter of her own principle, just like the fountain pen she’d given him that night.

She spent a while daydreaming about all this on her own, then locked up the suitcase and pushed it back under the bed, tucking the three keys into her book bag.

Xiao Taozi watched her sister’s every move with curiosity. Wen Tingli turned and carried her little sister onto the bed to help her take off her shoes.

“Zhou Sao, Xiao Taozi’s shoes seem to be pinching her feet a bit. I’ll come home early Thursday afternoon, and we’ll take Xiao Taozi to have some new clothes and shoes made.”

Zhou Sao called out from the outer room, puzzled, “You’re so busy every day, why bother rushing back specially for this? Why not just have the shoes and clothes made when you’re out playing on Sunday?”

Then, suddenly recalling Lu Shicheng’s usual manner, she thought—with him around, there was no way he’d ever let the young miss spend her own money.

The young miss really did think of everything.

She quickly said with a smile, “Understood.”

By this point, the call had already ended some ten minutes ago, and Steward Xu was still exchanging blank stares with Lu Shicheng.

Lu Shicheng was silent.

Steward Xu vaguely sensed that Lu Shicheng was a bit displeased, but this really wasn’t something he could be blamed for.

It was Young Master Cheng himself who’d suddenly called him in to relay messages for him.

Now that the message had been properly delivered, Young Master Cheng seemed to be unhappy about something anyway, which left him rather uneasy.

After a long moment, Steward Xu carefully spoke up. “Is Young Master upset that my tone with Miss Wen was too stiff?”

Lu Shicheng looked up at him.

Steward Xu rubbed his hands ruefully—he himself had somewhat noticed it too; for instance, that line “you needn’t buy tickets” would have carried an entirely different feel if Young Master Cheng had said it himself, but coming out of his own mouth in that stiff recitation, it sounded practically like an order.

He felt a bit wronged. “This is my first time doing this kind of job—at worst, next time I’ll speak to Miss Wen more gently.”

Lu Shicheng closed his eyes. There wouldn’t be a next time—tonight he’d learned that some words simply couldn’t be relayed through anyone else; the moment they were, they came out all wrong.

His expression eased somewhat.

[Didn’t Director Xie say Dr. Kelly has already drawn up the treatment plan?]

“That’s right. Dr. Louis called tonight, saying this case is a bit special—first, because it requires some of Dr. Kelly’s own private equipment, which isn’t easy to move around, and second, the treatment involves three clinical departments, so coordinating personnel isn’t simple either. So it might require Young Master Cheng to set aside two hours every afternoon to receive treatment at the Red Cross Hospital, and Dr. Louis may also need to stay at the Lu residence for a while, to make it easier to record Young Master’s condition at any time. Mr. Kuang only said Young Master Cheng was too busy today and was still discussing it with the doctors—”

[Tell Dr. Louis for me—treatment starts officially tomorrow afternoon.]

Steward Xu paused, stunned. So soon? “But, Young Master, tomorrow you’re also supposed to go to the Rixin Shipyard.”

Lu Shicheng pointed at the telephone. Steward Xu hastily changed his tune. “I’ll call Dr. Louis back right away.”

The moment Wen Tingli came downstairs the next morning, someone came over to hand her a letter.

“Mr. Lu asked me to pass this to Miss Wen.”

Opening the envelope, she found two movie tickets, for the eight-thirty show tomorrow night, upper-tier premium seats (translator’s note).

Wen Tingli did her best not to let her excitement show, and only said to the man, “Thank you.”

She hailed a rickshaw by the roadside, and the moment she got in, couldn’t resist taking out the tickets to examine them closely, smiling the whole time.

The rickshaw puller kept glancing back at Wen Tingli.

“What are you looking at?” Wen Tingli fixed him with a pair of bright, clear eyes.

“Why are you so happy, little miss, did you win the lottery?” (translator’s note)

“Better than winning the lottery.”

Today was Monday, and the Golden Film Company would hold its usual morning meeting as scheduled. Wen Tingli wasn’t technically an employee of the company yet, but in order to become a familiar face to the crew, she attended almost every time anyway.

The first thing she did upon arriving was head to the general manager’s office to find Huang Yuanshan—only to hear an argument going on inside while still in the hallway. Wen Tingli was hesitating over whether to turn back, when the door was suddenly yanked open from the inside.

“I insist on using him/her!” It was Huang Yuanshan, her face full of fury.

Wen Tingli, unable to retreat in time, had no choice but to steel herself and greet her. “Sister Huang.”

The door remained wide open, and at a glance she could see several of the company’s senior executives seated inside, with two well-dressed middle-aged men at the head of the room.

Huang Yuanshan reached back and slammed the door shut, saying fiercely, “You’re not in the studio learning your craft—what are you doing here?”

Wen Tingli was baffled. “The soundstage isn’t even open, is it? It’s Monday, the whole company’s supposed to have its morning meeting.”

“No meeting today! No meeting!” Huang Yuanshan waved her hand. “Everyone get back to the studio and get to work, you too! New people should be spending every single day grinding away in the studio—no business wandering around aimlessly!”

Wen Tingli, sensing Huang Yuanshan was in a foul mood, didn’t argue with her, only pouted and said, “Then I’ll be off.”

Huang Yuanshan called after her from behind.

“You’ll need to do another screen test before shooting starts—spend the next couple of days really studying the script properly, and come to the company early the day after tomorrow.”

Wen Tingli grew even more puzzled—wasn’t it already settled that she was the lead? Why another screen test?

A flicker of unease crossed her mind. Turning back, she saw Huang Yuanshan looking troubled, and knew that asking directly would only get her rebuffed again, so she changed the subject instead.

“By the way, Sister Huang, I wanted to ask you about someone—that night at the Lu family dinner, the short-haired woman who was talking with you, who was she?”

This time it was Huang Yuanshan’s turn to look puzzled.

“Round face, around thirty-something, wearing a chrysanthemum-green pantsuit,” Wen Tingli described in detail.

Huang Yuanshan’s expression eased. “Oh, that’s Yue Zhaoyun. Why?”

Wen Tingli was startled. “The famous writer Yue Zhaoyun? The one who wrote Beauty of the South? Yesterday I took Xiao Taozi to Great World, and I saw her riding the bumper cars all by herself, having a grand old time.”

Huang Yuanshan chuckled under her breath. “Not surprising, that’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do.”

“Did Yue Zhaoyun come to Shanghai specifically for the filming of Beauty of the South?”

Huang Yuanshan nodded.

Wen Tingli put on a look of astonishment. “They even brought in the original author! Does the company place special importance on this film?”

“How could we not—you should know—” Huang Yuanshan was on the verge of opening up, but caught herself, glancing at Wen Tingli and cutting herself off. “All right, since you already know how much weight the company’s putting on this film, what are you doing here chatting with me? Get yourself to the studio and learn from your seniors, quick.”

On the way back, Wen Tingli’s mind was full of questions. She’d known Huang Yuanshan for quite some time now, and had never once seen her in such a temper. She had a faint sense that this had something to do with her, yet couldn’t get anything more out of her no matter how she tried.

Work in the studio that day went smoothly enough, though everyone seemed a bit listless, being Monday. By evening several crews had gradually wrapped for the day, with only the Sands of Time crew still rushing to finish shooting.

The reason was that lead actor Deng Tianxing had once again shown up late that afternoon.

Wen Tingli had heard people say that the reason Deng Tianxing kept being late lately was because he was aggressively pursuing Luo Shuhong, daughter of opium tycoon Luo Kunlong.

Luo Shuhong, though a wealthy young lady, had a genuine passion for acting. Her father, to indulge his daughter’s dream, had once funded a film called Spring River Sorrow for her—unfortunately, Miss Luo’s acting had been mediocre, and the film had bombed at the box office. Her father refused to indulge her further nonsense, but Luo Shuhong refused to give up on the film industry so easily, and had lately been taking supporting roles in various productions—word was her acting had improved considerably, and she only needed one standout leading role to establish herself firmly.

Deng Tianxing had launched an ardent pursuit after meeting Luo Shuhong just once, but Shanghai had no shortage of men chasing after Miss Luo, and Deng Tianxing was hardly the most outstanding among them. Today he’d apparently been rebuffed by Luo Shuhong again, arriving with a face like thunder.

Ordinarily, Wen Tingli would have stayed behind to keep learning, but the moment she thought of that night when Deng Tianxing and the others had slandered her relationship with Meng Qiguang, her anger flared up—not spitting in Deng Tianxing’s face was already the best she could manage, let alone staying to learn acting from that despicable man.

She wrapped up cheerfully, showered, changed clothes, and was on her way out when she suddenly heard someone on the phone in the makeup room next door.

“Shuhong, you won’t even give me a chance—how would you know my feelings aren’t sincere?” It was Deng Tianxing’s voice.

Wen Tingli rolled her eyes inwardly.

Deng Tianxing chuckled softly. “Of course I have a way to prove my sincerity… Hong, there’s a saying, cater to someone’s interests—I know you’re an ambitious woman, don’t worry, in a few days you’ll see what gift I’m going to give you! When that time comes, I don’t need you to look my way even once more, as long as you understand my devotion to you is genuine, that’ll be enough for me.”

Wen Tingli shivered with disgust. Deng Tianxing was a notorious playboy—there was no telling how many women he’d said lines like this to already. She only hoped Miss Luo Shuhong wouldn’t fall for his tricks.

Coming down to the first floor, Deng Tianxing’s voice carried down from upstairs: “Oh, if it isn’t Miss Wen? Aren’t you usually the hardest working one around here—how come you’re leaving so early today? Heard you’ve got yourself another rich boyfriend.”

Wen Tingli simply couldn’t understand why Deng Tianxing’s hostility toward her ran so deep. Just because of the Meng Qiguang connection—that hardly seemed reason enough to go this far.

If she turned back to argue with him, Deng Tianxing might well seize the chance to make a scene, and if word got out, it would only reflect badly on her reputation—after all, Deng Tianxing was a senior in the industry, while she was a nobody newcomer.

So she only shot him one venomous glare and turned to leave.

Just as she started down the stairs, a thought flashed through her mind—wait.

Deng Tianxing didn’t seem foolish or reckless; if anything, his way of handling people and affairs could be called “slick.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made a name for himself in such a fiercely competitive industry.

For a mentally sound adult, one usually only made an active enemy of someone when their own interests were at stake.

But she couldn’t for the life of her think of any conflict of interest between herself and Deng Tianxing. First, they weren’t even in the same production. Second, he was a male actor and she was a female actor, so there was no overlap in the roles they might compete for.

And yet Deng Tianxing had been hostile toward her from the very start.

The more she thought about it, the more something seemed off. She stopped, turning back to shoot a meaningful glance in the direction Deng Tianxing had gone.

The truth never stays hidden forever—perhaps she ought to ask Sister Li to properly look into Deng Tianxing’s background for her. Sister Li had extensive connections and moved quickly; with her help, they wouldn’t fail to figure out exactly what Deng Tianxing was up to.

At the door, a cool evening breeze blew in, and in an instant the bad mood in her heart was swept away. Wen Tingli looked up at the street with a bright smile, gazing expectantly at the roadside phoenix tree—but unlike last time, there was no sign of Lu Shicheng’s car parked beneath it. They’d agreed on seven o’clock; it was only six now. Everyone around was familiar faces from the crew—she might as well go wait at the Sichuan restaurant instead.

Hm, the wind was getting colder and colder—could it be about to rain?

When Dr. Kelly and the others accompanied Lu Shicheng out of the treatment room, Kuang Zhilin had already been waiting in the hallway for some time. He approached with an expectant look. “How did it go? Did the treatment go smoothly?”

Lu Shicheng’s expression was calm.

Kuang Zhilin quickly laughed. “Of course it wouldn’t show results on the very first treatment—I was too eager. Dr. Kelly, Director Xie, Dr. Louis, thank you all for your hard work.”

The doctors gathered around Lu Shicheng, exchanging a few final words, then Lu Shicheng and Kuang Zhilin took their leave.

Lu Shicheng glanced at the briefcase in Kuang Zhilin’s hand, and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

[That day I asked you to look into an actor named Deng Tianxing—did you find anything?]

Kuang Zhilin pulled out a document. “Take a look at this first—it was sent to a newspaper office by an anonymous sender yesterday evening.”

The headline read:

Socialite Miss Wen Tingli Set to Star in Golden Film Company’s Major Production

[…The film is directed by the renowned art-film director Huang Yuanshan, with the screenplay personally penned by famed Beiping writer Yue Zhaoyun. Given Miss Wen’s shallow credentials, she would ordinarily be entirely unqualified to shoulder such a major role—yet, according to well-informed sources, this Miss Wen is remarkably skilled at using her looks to secure resources for herself… She is in fact the daughter of a tailor, who began aggressively pursuing boyfriends already in middle school, and before long successfully transferred from Xiude Girls’ Middle School to the more prestigious Wushi Girls’ Middle School. Later, she entered a beauty pageant, sweeping through round after round to claim the crown—several fellow contestants from that period noted that Miss Wen’s vote count surged overnight in highly suspicious fashion. As for her landing this leading role now, it is once again a case of Miss Wen resorting to the same old tricks—insider sources at Golden Film Company report that Miss Wen’s securing the lead in this prestige production owes no small debt to the assistance of her various boyfriends…]

Before he’d even finished reading the full article, Lu Shicheng’s expression had already darkened to its worst.

Kuang Zhilin said, worried, “Once this gets out, Miss Wen will never shake off the label of ‘socialite’ ever again. The publishers of both Great River Daily and Shen City Evening Post are always well-informed—they must have gathered that Miss Wen is close with Young Master Cheng, and so took it upon themselves to hold the article back. This afternoon they specially had someone send the draft over to my office, seeking our input. Look, there are quite a few photographs attached at the back as well.”

The very first page was a photo of Wen Tingli from when she’d competed in the “Flower of Shanghai” pageant.

Lu Shicheng’s face was expressionless. [Have you found out who did this?]

“It’s an anonymous sender. Whoever it is must have been secretly investigating Miss Wen for some time now—the material provided is extremely detailed. The article carefully avoids any mention of the Lu family, focusing the attack entirely on Miss Wen alone—this ensures that no newspaper would hesitate to publish it out of concern for offending the Lu family. Major papers might hold off, but smaller papers, seeing content this rich in detail, would surely be unable to resist running with it—worst case, they issue an apology later, but not before getting a boost in sales first. Has Miss Wen offended anyone recently, perhaps?”

Lu Shicheng’s gaze fixed on the words Beauty of the South in the article.

“Could it be connected to the Bailong Gang?” Kuang Zhilin analyzed at his side. “They wouldn’t dare touch the Lu family directly, so they’re going after Miss Wen instead. But then again… Boss Cao has been busy dissolving his partnership with Third Master Lu lately, and Qiu Dapeng has not only lost Boss Cao’s trust, but is also busy tending to his severely injured son—by rights, neither should have the bandwidth to spare for this.”

Lu Shicheng pointed at the document.

[Why don’t we look into the background of this film first.]

“Beauty of the South?” Kuang Zhilin was caught off guard. “Young Master, are you saying—”

Lu Shicheng considered this. If he remembered correctly, Wen Tingli had mentioned to him as far back as last month that her film would be starting production soon, yet there’d been no further word on it since. Being Golden Film Company’s major production, there was no reason for such a long delay without cause—most likely, some obstacle had arisen somewhere along the way.

Whoever stood to gain the most from sabotaging Wen Tingli at this particular juncture—investigate that, and the answer would reveal itself.

Kuang Zhilin nodded thoughtfully. “Understood. Should Miss Wen be told about this?”

Lu Shicheng crumpled the document into a ball. He’d wait until he found out who was behind it before telling Wen Tingli—no sense in worrying her needlessly otherwise.

[Have someone verify which newspaper offices received this article this morning, and make sure every single copy is intercepted—if even one slips through, the rumor will be in print by tomorrow morning, and there’ll be no undoing it. As quickly as possible. I’ll wait here for you. Also, that Deng Tianxing—don’t forget to have someone look into his background too.]

Wen Tingli sat with her chin propped in her hand, gazing out at the street.

She’d already been waiting at the Sichuan restaurant for a full hour, and still no sign of Lu Shicheng.

Worried that Lu Shicheng might go straight to the set looking for her instead, she’d specially run back to check—finding no sign of him there, she’d trudged back to the Sichuan restaurant again, dejected.

Before she knew it, it was seven o’clock.

Any later and it would count as being late. For anyone else, being a few minutes late wouldn’t be unusual, but Lu Shicheng never ran late—the one and only time he’d ever stood her up was that time Third Master Lu had ambushed him.

The thought made her anxious. She should have just waited outside the set the whole time instead. She hurried out to the street, peering both ways, when she suddenly felt something cold on her forehead—raindrops were falling. At first it was just a few scattered drops, but soon it turned into a downpour.

Wen Tingli, disheveled, cradled her head and dashed back into the restaurant.

Seven fifteen now. This was truly out of the ordinary—should she borrow an umbrella from the owner and head back to the set to check? Just as she was considering this, a young man came in out of the rain.

Wen Tingli’s heart, heavy with worry, instantly lit up with delight. She jumped up to greet him.

“How did you get so soaked? Didn’t you drive here?”