Chapter 46

“Little Chen!”

Lu Zhi was confirming tomorrow’s shoot time with the newly hired assistant when a loud shout came from the second floor.

“Ignore her,” Lu Zhi said, setting her water glass on the table. She looked at the young girl across from her, whose gaze kept trying to sneak a peek upstairs. “Continue.”

Still new to the job and full of curiosity about the female celebrity, the little assistant let out an “Oh” and continued reading from her small notebook.

Meanwhile, from the second floor came a dense, non-stop barrage of “Little Chen, Little Chen, Little Chen…” in every imaginable tone, serving as continuous background music.

Nearly ten minutes later, Lu Zhi finally finished the work handover below. “Come pick her up at six-thirty tomorrow. Make sure Teacher Rong Yin is on set before eight. Being late is a cardinal sin on a film set; you must never let it happen to Rong Yin.”

The little assistant nodded repeatedly, then politely said goodbye to Lu Zhi after making sure nothing was missed.

Lu Zhi smiled, tidied up the first-floor desk a little, and then went upstairs.

Rong Yin wasn’t in her own room. She was sitting in a lucky yoga pose on the tatami mat near the floor-to-ceiling window in Lu Zhi’s room, soles of her feet touching, wearing a onesie pajama set. A script lay open in front of her.

Having long since tired herself out from shouting, she was now lying face down on the tatami, stretching her body while muttering to herself.

Lu Zhi knocked on the door.

Rong Yin turned her head at the sound, her soft little face squished against her arm. Her voice was full of complaint: “What took you so long to get here…”

Lu Zhi didn’t move. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking at her with an amused, half-smiling expression. “What were you calling me just now?”

“I was calling you…” Rong Yin’s eyes darted around. She coughed, sat up straight, and smoothly changed the subject. “I was calling you to come run lines with me.”

After a little huff, she added, “You’re such a busy agent, I can’t even order you around.”

Lu Zhi didn’t press the issue of her title. She smiled and asked, “Finished exercising for today?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Showered?”

“Yup.”

Lu Zhi walked over, reached out, and gently brushed behind Rong Yin’s ear. Still-damp black hair, faintly moist, slid softly across her fingertips. “Why didn’t you dry your hair?”

“I…” Even though Lu Zhi’s fingers had already left, Rong Yin could still feel a lingering coolness on her earlobe that refused to fade. She awkwardly tilted her head to rub against her shoulder and drawled, “My hair’s too thick and long, it’s hard to dry.”

“Besides, since I can’t order this agent around anyway, it’s fine just like this.” Rong Yin blinked up at Lu Zhi, openly accusing her of slacking on the job.

Rong Yin’s accusation wasn’t entirely unfounded. Compared to how other personal assistants catered to her every whim in life, Lu Zhi naturally couldn’t make her obey without question. Many tasks like serving tea, bringing water, blow-drying hair, or fanning were completely waived under her. And most of the time, she could even use her title as agent to put pressure on Rong Yin.

Rong Yin had many grievances about this, but forced by a sense that this agent seemed to have an innate dominance over her, she could only dare to be angry but not speak. As for whether she regretted her moment of soft-heartedness, planning to save her agent from the “sea of poverty” by doubling her salary, Rong Yin had never once thought about it.

Lu Zhi, of course, felt no guilt whatsoever. She simply reached out, loosened Rong Yin’s long hair, and said, “At this length, air-drying is actually better.”

Rong Yin knew she wouldn’t serve her. She hugged her arms and snorted.

The next second, Lu Zhi settled onto the other side of the tatami mat, stretching out a foot to nudge Rong Yin’s calf. As if following a routine, she inspected her nightly skincare: “Did you put on body lotion?”

Rong Yin’s gaze was fixed on the script in front of her. She made an affirmative sound.

Lu Zhi knew her far too well. One glance from the corner of her eye told her something was up. She directly reached out, grasped Rong Yin’s slender, pale wrist, and brought it under her nose for a sniff. A fresh, moist, faint scent, without any trace of artificial fragrance.

Rong Yin felt a numbing sensation shoot through her wrist. The other woman’s light, shallow breath on her skin made every hair on her body stand on end. The tips of her ears, hidden by her hair, instantly flushed crimson.

“Are you, are you, are you a dog’s nose, sniffing like that?” Rong Yin hurriedly pulled her arm back as if shocked, hiding it behind her back in a clumsy attempt to cover up. She stammered, flustered and guilty, admitting: “Fine, fine, I didn’t put it on, didn’t put it on. I’ll do it later, right away, definitely before bed…”

Lu Zhi glanced at her. Without turning into a disciplinary headmistress, she easily let it go. She leaned back against the backrest of the tatami and picked up the script.

In Honey and Arsenic, compared to the Male Lead’s effortless mastery of the domineering CEO role, Rong Yin was equally adept at handling the Female Lead Tang Mi’s sweet-but-naive character. After all, four years into her career, ninety percent of her roles had been sweet-but-naive.

But despite that, Rong Yin was still very dedicated to this drama, able to focus on it without distractions. She seized every spare moment to memorize lines, grabbed anyone available to rehearse scenes, and even brought her own insights and recordings to Teacher Fang for feedback.

Lu Zhi flipped through the script. Tomorrow was an exterior shoot. Actual filming didn’t proceed in story order as it appeared on TV but was coordinated based on location and lead actors’ schedules. So tomorrow, they’d first shoot the scene where the male and female leads, having just confirmed their relationship, run into a misunderstanding.

The Female Lead would hem and haw coyly: I won’t listen, I won’t listen, don’t talk to me, I’m ignoring you…

The Male Lead would erupt in frustration: Why don’t you believe me? Why don’t you believe in me? Haven’t I been good to you? Do you want me to rip my heart out for you…

Then the Female Lead would stomp her feet, whining, and the Male Lead, without another word, would go full domineering CEO mode and scoop her up in a princess carry.

Cheesy yet addictive.

It was… rather amusing.

Rong Yin pressed her lips together, glancing at Lu Zhi, who sat across from her silently flipping through the script. They were seated face-to-face, both with legs half-bent, occupying opposite sides of the 1.5-meter tatami mat, their bare toes almost touching.

She couldn’t help leaning her head against the cool glass window, letting her gaze linger on the other woman for a long time. A warm-toned pendant lamp hung in the bedroom, while outside the window lay the deep dusk. The dim light fell on Lu Zhi’s face in scattered patches of light and shadow. On that plain white canvas rested her usual gentle, serene expression.

Even just reading a ridiculous, brainless little romantic comedy scene, that look of serious concentration still made one’s eyes ache.

She seemed always to be this way—never impatient, never uneasy. Any embarrassment could be brushed off with a smile in front of her. Like the sea at dawn: beneath the calm lay mountains and rivers unfathomable to ordinary people; within that composure was a steadiness that encompassed all.

Rong Yin had to admit, there was a kind of magic about her. It allowed herself, after ending an abnormal working relationship, to still fully trust and accept a new agent at lightning speed, and even to want to become closer to her.

Lu Zhi flipped the script back to the very first page. She raised her eyes to glance at Rong Yin, who seemed to be spacing out across from her, and lightly tapped Rong Yin’s fair instep with her toe. “Scene One: Street, morning, Tang Mi, Lu Shuang…”

Rong Yin’s foot reflexively jerked back. Then she registered that Lu Zhi had already started reading the opening narration aloud.

Her movement was a bit dramatic. Lu Zhi looked up at her. “Focus.”

“Oh, oh,” Rong Yin hurriedly scooped up her script, eyes glued to it. But her two little feet underneath fidgeted awkwardly, tapping restlessly against the tatami mat like she had ADHD.

After running through the lines twice, Lu Zhi asked her, “There’s a crying scene tomorrow. You don’t need me to prepare eye drops for you, do you?”

“Of course not! My crying scenes are really good, okay?” Rong Yin felt underestimated and puffed out her cheeks, almost wanting to prove it right then and there.

Lu Zhi was just asking casually. She simply lifted her chin, signaling Rong Yin to hand over her phone, which was blinking nearby.

Resigned, Rong Yin bent over to grab the phone from the coffee table, which was a bit far away. It wasn’t intentional, but a message happened to pop up on the screen at that moment.

He Li: The stable just got a new batch of horses, there’s a Barb…

The rest was cut off by the notification fold.

Rong Yin handed the phone to Lu Zhi. It took her a couple of seconds to place the name. “Is that He Li from Chenzhou Group?”

“Yes.”

“He’s inviting you horseback riding?” Rong Yin leaned slightly forward, watching Lu Zhi’s slender fingers tap on the phone. She couldn’t help but complain: “In the middle of summer? Isn’t he afraid of the heat?”

Lu Zhi didn’t avoid her; she replied to the message while talking. “We had a race once. He lost and got competitive. Insists on a rematch.”

Rong Yin: “You beat him?”

Lu Zhi gave a nonchalant affirmative hum.

Rong Yin chuckled softly, a little pleased. She leaned closer again to ask, “So are you going?”

“Yes.” Lu Zhi thought for a moment, then looked up and asked her, “Oh right, which designer’s gowns do you prefer for red carpet events?”

“Huh?” Rong Yin froze.

“He Li holds stakes in several magazine companies and knows quite a few fashion editors-in-chief. Which luxury brand do you like? I can ask him about it then.”

Rong Yin’s eyes lit up. “Any brand?”

Lu Zhi smiled. “Any brand.”

Rong Yin clasped her hands over her chest. Her excitement was understandable. The fashion resources at her previous company had been abysmal. Every time Rong Yin walked the red carpet, she’d worn niche brands. While she always looked beautiful, most of them simply couldn’t compare to the dazzling prestige of those top-tier luxury fashion houses that had been setting trends for a century.

Rong Yin thought it over before tentatively saying, “C.R.”

Lu Zhi nodded and began typing her reply.

Seeing her agree so easily, Rong Yin blinked, her curiosity unstoppable. She poked her little head forward again. “What are you going to say to him?”

Lu Zhi said, “I’ll ask him to invite the editor-in-chief of VG.”

Rong Yin mouthed an “Oh.” She naturally knew of VG—the fashion magazine treated as a bible by countless stars in the entertainment industry, for whose cover people fought tooth and nail every month.

Quietly, Rong Yin sat back. She found Lu Zhi so amazing. How could she always express such remarkable things so casually and lightly?

She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees, and didn’t disturb Lu Zhi’s messaging anymore. Her gaze simply shifted from Lu Zhi’s phone to the tatami mat.

Today, Lu Zhi was wearing a long champagne-colored button-down sleep dress, fastened from neck to hem with a row of glazed, bead-like round buttons. A sash was loosely tied at her waist. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, her slender calves naturally pressed together under the silky, soft fabric, revealing only two inches of delicate pale ankles, followed by a pair of slender, small feet.

Rong Yin looked down at her own feet—toes short like little beans, painted with red nail polish.

Not like Lu Zhi’s. From ankle to toe, hers were a clean, pure white. Beneath the fine, smooth skin, faint blue veins were visible. Even the faintly visible metatarsal bones on the instep carried a somewhat cool, aloof quality.

Out of boredom, Rong Yin wiggled her toes, inching them forward until they slowly rested on top of Lu Zhi’s toes.

The sensation on a woman’s foot was so sensitive; she almost immediately felt a touch of coolness—just like those temperatures that would linger on her skin long after Lu Zhi had casually touched her.

Rong Yin pursed her lips. She glanced at Lu Zhi, and seeing she wasn’t paying attention, pushed her luck a little further, almost laying her entire foot on top.