Wu Man knew that if she admitted she was in the car at this moment, the consequences would be unthinkable.
Even though she truly was just a diligent driver and nothing had happened, this had already touched Yu Jiaze’s forbidden zone.
She pretended to have a sudden realization: “I forgot to tell you about the car—I lent it to He Huiyu. Her car was taken in for repairs.”
“Oh?” Yu Jiaze asked with great interest. “Just recently you were at each other’s throats, and now suddenly you’re like sisters?”
Wu Man paused: “She’s filming in the soundstage next to ours. We’ve gotten a bit more familiar.”
Yu Jiaze’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk, seemingly pondering something.
Wu Man squeezed his shoulders: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lent the car you gave me to someone else to drive.”
Yu Jiaze smiled: “Am I that petty? What you do with things I’ve given you is up to you.”
Wu Man’s tense breath imperceptibly relaxed.
“I’ll go remove my makeup first. Today’s filming was very tiring.”
*
Wu Man came to the bathroom, locked the door, searched WeChat, and dragged He Huiyu out of her blocked contacts list.
“You there?”
Message sent, but rejected by the recipient.
…Damn, He Huiyu had also blocked her.
Wu Man helplessly sent a message to Zhui Ye.
“Have He Huiyu unblock me, it’s urgent!”
Zhui Ye didn’t ask questions, sending her an OK emoji. The emoji was actually a custom one made from his profile picture dog.
After a while, He Huiyu sent a question mark.
“Yu Jiaze saw my car. I told him I lent it to you because yours was in the shop for repairs. He might verify this with you. Help me out—consider it payment for last night’s ride.”
“So you never reported this to him?”
“…What do you think?”
“No, what exactly is going on between you three?” The other side showed typing, then another message came: “If I’m covering for you, I should at least understand the situation.”
Wu Man stared at the input box for a while, then typed a line.
“I only went to pick him up because I owed Zhui Ye a favor.”
“You and him really have nothing going on?”
“Nothing. Are you going to help or not?”
“I’ll help.” The other side showed typing, followed by another message: “But it’s not for you. I just don’t want Zhui Ye implicated by you.”
Looking at this message, Wu Man felt she’d obtained some very important information.
Rumors weren’t entirely groundless—He Huiyu seemed to… like Zhui Ye.
*
After removing her makeup and coming out, she heard Yu Jiaze calling her down for a late-night snack.
Hearing the words “late-night snack,” Wu Man’s heart truly sank.
She went downstairs reluctantly. Seeing that bowl of “light salad,” she knew Yu Jiaze hadn’t dispelled his doubts. He felt displeased, so he wanted to drag her into being displeased with him.
“I just made it myself. Want to try?”
He picked up a forkful, as if to feed Wu Man.
Besides dry vegetable leaves, that basin of salad was entirely filled with various peppers Yu Jiaze adored.
Scorpion peppers, Thai chilies, ghost peppers, Carolina Reapers… He’d pulled out some of everything stored in the villa and stirred them together with tomato sauce.
Without exaggeration, it would really send someone to the hospital.
Yu Jiaze made an “ah” sound, indicating Wu Man should open wide.
Wu Man took a deep breath and swallowed that large spoonful of peppers whole.
In an instant, raging fire scorched down her esophagus, burning through her internal organs. That spiciest dish at the hotel was just an appetizer compared to this—not even one ten-thousandth of this “salad.”
Wu Man truly felt her stomach burning through.
Yu Jiaze felt one mouthful wasn’t enough and forcibly stuffed in a second. Her mouth became a Mountain of Flames. With every chew, scorching hot wind blew out—ten thousand palm-leaf fans couldn’t extinguish it. Her intestines and stomach were blown by this hot wind into the world’s most complicated knot.
Wu Man clutched her stomach, her ankles trembling, weakly calling out: “Water, water…”
Yu Jiaze’s eyes full of heartache as he brought a glass of water to her lips.
She was already beside herself from the spice. Grabbing that glass of water like a lifeline, she gulped it down. Her fingers suddenly trembled violently—she couldn’t hold the glass steady. It shattered into pieces.
It was a glass of just-boiled hot water.
Before completely passing out, Wu Man hazily felt Yu Jiaze pick her up, whispering in her ear.
“You’d better not be lying.”
*
When Wu Man woke again, she was in the villa’s bed. The balcony was wide open—a morning without sunrise.
An IV drip hung beside her hand, nearly finished. But the burning sensation in her throat hadn’t completely receded.
She tried making a sound—just coughing.
Movement came from outside the door. Yu Jiaze pushed in carrying a bowl of medicine. The unpleasant smell of Chinese medicine filled the entire room.
Seeing him enter, Wu Man’s fingers curled under the blanket flinched.
He placed the medicine at the bedside: “After following me so long, you still can’t handle spice.”
That level was about not handling spice well? Why don’t you personally demonstrate for me?
Wu Man grumbled internally, but feeling guilty, she didn’t dare say anything.
“It’s acute gastroenteritis, not muteness. Not going to speak?”
Wu Man said hoarsely: “My throat hurts.”
Yu Jiaze sighed lightly: “Can’t do anything with you. Drink the medicine first.”
He scooped up the black medicinal liquid, wanting to feed it to her personally.
Wu Man unconsciously turned her head slightly away. Her body moved faster than her consciousness—her brow was already furrowing.
Only then did Yu Jiaze laugh at her miserable expression.
“Still so afraid of bitterness.”
“It’s just gastroenteritis. Is Chinese medicine necessary?”
Yu Jiaze nodded decisively, half-truthfully: “The doctor said if you don’t properly care for your stomach, something serious will happen.”
…Wasn’t it your madness that tormented it?
“After you finish the medicine.” Yu Jiaze took out a handkerchief to slowly wipe away the medicine stains at the corner of her mouth. “Not just this bowl—you have to finish the entire month’s dosage the doctor prescribed.”
Hearing this, Wu Man’s face crumpled.
Yu Jiaze knew too well how to precisely strike her pain points.
“Can it be one week?”
“Should I have the doctor prescribe another month?”
Wu Man sighed and stopped mentioning it. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Yu Jiaze putting away the handkerchief—it wasn’t the black with gold patterns he usually used.
*
Yu Jiaze anticipated that once he left, the medicine would be secretly thrown in the trash by Wu Man. He arranged for Wei Wei to film her drinking medicine at set times and send him the videos.
This way she couldn’t escape, and she incidentally plagued the entire crew—the smell of brewing Chinese medicine filled the whole soundstage.
Thinking this matter was inescapably connected to Zhui Ye, Wu Man deliberately chose to drink an entire bowl of Chinese medicine right before filming a kissing scene, determined to also let Zhui Ye experience this wonderful flavor.
The kissing scene was still filmed with a cleared set. This scene was Chen Nan wanting to paint Deng Lizhi, and in the process, unable to help kissing her.
A very heart-fluttering scene—the first kiss in the script.
Chen Nan was an art student, but he could never paint any portrait well. Until this night, when he saw Deng Lizhi come barefoot from her room without turning on the lights. The living room was dim. Deng Lizhi wore dark red curly hair, her body in a teal silk slip dress—soft and fragile, making him think of willow branches just brushing across water’s surface.
Deng Lizhi looked up without guard, her gaze colliding with Chen Nan’s as he practiced at his easel on the balcony.
He glimpsed the redness at the bottom of her eyes—she’d just been crying.
Deng Lizhi’s expression became flustered. She hadn’t expected to be seen by anyone in the dead of night. Chen Nan had just moved in recently and always shut himself in his room—she hadn’t fully realized someone had already moved into the home.
She composed her expression, saying as if nothing had happened: “Still practicing so late? Why not turn on the lights?”
“I’m painting it.” Chen Nan pointed at the wisteria drooping into the balcony. “This flower looks better at night than during the day.”
“Your eyes will go bad like this.” Deng Lizhi adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “I’m going to sleep. I won’t disturb you.”
“Big sister.” Chen Nan called after her from behind. “Could you be my model once?”
Deng Lizhi was surprised and incredulous: “…Paint me?”
Chen Nan nodded: “Your body’s curves are beautiful.”
She felt dizzy for a moment.
Just dozens of minutes ago, when she’d gathered courage to actively seduce him, her husband had only glanced at her blandly before starting to snore. That look was no different from looking at a lump of meat on a cutting board.
She came back to herself self-mockingly: “Stop joking with me.”
“I’ve never had the impulse to paint anyone before.” Chen Nan’s expression was serious. “You’re the first.”
Deng Lizhi was silent for a while, then asked cautiously: “…Then what should I do?”
“Just sit here.”
Chen Nan moved over an old chair, placing it before the canvas.
“Should I change clothes?”
“No need. This is perfect.”
Deng Lizhi pressed her lips tight and sat down stiffly.
“Just sit like this? Don’t need to pose?”
Chen Nan teased: “You could pose like a little branch if you want.”
“…That’s too silly.”
The two looked at each other and suddenly laughed.
In the quiet night, only the fine friction of pencil against paper remained. Someone upstairs was practicing harmonica, playing an off-key tune. The young man hummed along while painting. The long-neglected streetlight downstairs was the only light source—low wattage, with moths circling beneath it, buzzing past. The woman’s stiff shoulders relaxed. Behind her, the whole tree of wisteria was quietly awakening.
Near the end of the painting, rain began falling from the sky.
At first just a drip or two, coolness blowing in the night wind. It fell more densely, rustling. The edges of the paper went soft and wrinkled.
But neither stopped. He still focused on looking at her. She still sat with lowered eyes, half her hair gently soaked by rain.
He finally lifted his brush to write a few characters in the lower left corner, saying: “It’s finished.”
Deng Lizhi stood up, rubbing her numb waist, and leaned over to look at the painting. The brushwork wasn’t so skilled, yet it was unforgettable at first glance.
On the pure white paper, the woman’s usually drooping mouth corners lifted brightly. She cradled her chin in both hands, raised on tiptoes, quietly yet joyfully watching this spring rain. Water drops slid down her collarbone, flowing over the emerald hollow of her waist, streaming into spring water.
Such a relaxed girlish posture was something Deng Lizhi had never possessed.
She laughed mockingly, shaking her head: “This isn’t me at all.”
Chen Nan said with certainty: “This is you in my eyes.”
Hearing his incomparably firm tone, Deng Lizhi couldn’t help being stunned.
Could someone whose youth had passed still bloom again in another person’s eyes?
In the lower left corner of the paper, Chen Nan’s not-so-pretty handwriting read: Happy Rain on a Spring Night.
“Good rain knows its season, when spring arrives it falls…”
Wu Man unconsciously recited.
“Mm, when spring arrives it falls.”
Chen Nan echoed this line.
Wu Man’s vision blurred. Zhui Ye’s face drew close, rain threads mixing with his soft thin lips pressing against hers. The wisteria blown by slanting wind—following wind, it stole into night, moistening things silently. Flower petals scattered profusely, filling the sky, hiding this kiss.