Chapter 25

Wen Zhixu’s breathing rose and fell unevenly. Whenever she got nervous, her breathing would feel labored. There were still customers lining up outside the Japanese restaurant entrance, and the seat they had just occupied had already been cleared away.

She dodged the crowd and slipped into the restroom. At the sink, a girl was shaking off water droplets that splattered onto Wen Zhixu’s sleeve. Wen Zhixu found an empty stall and pushed the door open.

No sooner had she stepped in than she reached back to close the door—the stall door swung open, and Jian Shichu strode in, blocking her path.

The door lock clicked shut. Jian Shichu leaned back against it, her furrowed brows slowly relaxing from their irritation.

A flash of stunned bewilderment crossed Wen Zhixu’s face, her complexion draining to pale. She wasn’t sure if her heart was pounding from the matter with Song Yi or from Jian Shichu’s oppressive presence right now.

“Move aside, I need to use the toilet.” Wen Zhixu averted her gaze, her voice lacking confidence even as she lowered her eyes, her expression softening.

Jian Shichu watched her and slowly smoothed her brow, asking in a mild tone, “Why were you blushing at Song Yi?”

Her breathing was audible in the question, like jumping straight from summer to winter without warning, sending a chill down the back.

Wen Zhixu’s expression turned astonished. She wasn’t much of an actress and couldn’t fake it well; right now, she didn’t even know where to direct her gaze.

“I didn’t.” Wen Zhixu answered her softly.

Jian Shichu’s eyes narrowed slightly, still fixed on her, the dimness in her pupils gradually expanding amid Wen Zhixu’s evasion.

She took a heavy breath and said, “Look at me when you answer.”

Wen Zhixu couldn’t speak. At a loss for words, she tried to sidestep Jian Shichu and reach for the door behind her, but Jian Shichu grabbed her.

Jian Shichu spun her around, and this attempt to dodge only made her find Wen Zhixu’s behavior even stranger, stirring an instant sourness in her heart.

Wen Zhixu stood there, biting her lower lip for a long while. That night felt like a stone lodged in her chest. After breaking up with Jian Shichu, she hadn’t dated anyone, let alone fallen for someone else.

“How long have you known each other?” A layer of mist rose in Wen Zhixu’s eyes, her lashes trembling as she looked at Jian Shichu.

The stall wasn’t large; she was very close to Jian Shichu. The orange-yellow light spilled into Jian Shichu’s eyes, making the chill in her pupils increasingly clear.

Clearly, a hint of doubt crept into Jian Shichu’s brow, but she replied in her usual even tone, “High school classmates. Any issue?”

Each word carried an odd detachment, and the cramped space made every syllable feel uncomfortable.

Wen Zhixu choked back her words in her throat. This was her own fault—she had gotten drunk, and that’s how it happened.

“No issue. Move, I need to go.” Wen Zhixu released her lip, still not daring to look at Jian Shichu.

“No adding her.” Jian Shichu tamped down her aggression, phrasing it softly as she twisted the door lock.

Wen Zhixu turned to stare at her, as if fog had risen in her eyes. Without a word, she left first.

Jian Shichu didn’t stop her, her breathing turning dazed and stuffy for a moment.

By the time she exited the restaurant, Wen Zhixu and An Ran had already left. Song Yi was waiting for her. Seeing her so out of it, she didn’t ask much.

Later, Song Yi drove her back first. On the road, Jian Shichu maintained the same posture as on the way there, slouched back scrolling her phone, not speaking.

When the light turned red at the intersection, Song Yi eased on the brakes and glanced at her. The phone screen’s glow softened Jian Shichu’s features in the dimness.

“What’s up with you?” Song Yi asked with a laugh, easing the tension in the car.

Jian Shichu suppressed a breath and slowly looked at her. The scene fell silent for five seconds; she couldn’t bring herself to ask, then turned back.

“When did you two meet?” Jian Shichu asked, eyes on her phone, waiting intently for Song Yi’s answer.

Song Yi was first surprised. “Who?”

After two seconds: “You mean Wen Zhixu? Two or three years ago, I think. At a promotional event for the Ru Shi crew, and later at the banquet, though she doesn’t remember.”

Jian Shichu glanced at Song Yi from the corner of her eye and hummed nonchalantly.

Song Yi was straightforward in her speech—genuinely gentle, but also genuinely blunt.

“The invite? I’m going the day after tomorrow.” Jian Shichu scrolled lazily through her phone, swiping left and right as if bored.

Song Yi nodded toward the storage compartment by her leg. “In there.”

Jian Shichu leaned over, opened it, and pulled out the invitation. Same blue ribbon wrapping the plastic case, her name printed on it.

For these internal events, even without going through channels, she needed this to get in.

“What’s the schedule for the day after?”

“Interviews—over a dozen media outlets, some big V bloggers recording videos. Evening banquet. Standard stuff, right?” Song Yi focused on driving.

Jian Shichu tucked the invite into her bag. “Got it.”

She didn’t ask Song Yi anything else, but her tone was genuinely cold, laced with genuine helplessness. That sourness could only fester in her heart unspoken.

..

Monday

The promotional event was internal, held at a rented venue in Banan, while the evening banquet was set up on Beibin Road. Shuttle vans were arranged in between.

The crew provided cars for stars joining the event; for someone of Ke Yixuan’s caliber, the vehicle was top-tier. It had been settled in the contract beforehand—Tang Qin’s treatment was slightly lower by comparison.

Most of a production’s budget went to actors’ pay. With Wen Zhixu’s first book launching a breakout star, many actors had been vying for this script during Fog Condensing on the Window’s prep phase.

Thus, Ke Yixuan had lowered her demands this time.

Today’s event was promotional during filming; actors styled their own outfits.

When Wen Zhixu arrived, she headed straight to the VIP lounge to rest. Wang Yun was already there. Media were in the conference room downstairs, following the flow for interviews and behind-the-scenes chats.

They’d done this at the initial press conference for filming start, but today they’d release some bloopers, saving most content for staggered drops post-wrap.

This kept buzz alive online right up to release.

Wen Zhixu greeted Wang Yun first upon entering. “Director Wang.”

Few people in the VIP room—the male second lead and his assistant were chatting and sipping tea with Tang Qin nearby. Ke Yixuan hadn’t arrived yet.

Tang Qin didn’t greet Wen Zhixu; they’d fully fallen out over the recording incident, though they’d still share the stage.

“Half an hour left. Sit for a bit.” Wang Yun was always mild-mannered, seating Wen Zhixu beside her.

Wang Yun asked, “Seen the interview script?”

“Yeah, it’s about the work—ideas and character creation.” Wen Zhixu had reviewed it carefully last night, even planning her responses.

Today’s Q&A included media plus interactive questions from big V bloggers, who brought assistants to film for promo videos on their accounts.

Media interviews were pre-set, unlike the last entertainment presser with open questions.

Wen Zhixu noted they’d definitely ask about her intent for the Tang Qin-Su Yun storyline.

She’d never publicly discussed it. The origin might stem from Jian Shichu’s offhand “Open a restaurant?” or perhaps from her approach back then.

They’d been classmates for a year, friends for another, dated for two—four years gone just like that. Only after dating did she learn Jian Shichu had noticed her from afar long before.

That led to her later “I know you.” Time rushed on, blurring details.

Wang Yun chatted more about the work but never mentioned Jian Shichu or anything related.

When they touched on the script revisions by the writing team, the VIP room door swung open. Song Yi’s assistant pushed it wide. She wore a light gray oversized suit, hair tied low, giving off an air of appraising a deity as she looked around.

Wen Zhixu sipped her tea and shifted her attention elsewhere.

“Aunt Wang.” Song Yi’s tone was sweetly obedient calling Wang Yun.

Wang Yun stood with a smile. “So early?”

Tang Qin and the male second lead looked over. Song Yi’s company handled marketing for many big productions, well-known in the industry; their managers were signaling eagerly.

“Where’s Doudou?” Wang Yun peered behind her.

Song Yi said, “At the venue. As you said, I pulled the restaurant promo signs first thing.”

“Aunt Wang still worried about Doudou showing her face to the media.”

Song Yi bantered playfully with Wang Yun. Wen Zhixu, seated nearby, heard clearly and, out of courtesy, looked up with a polite smile in greeting when Song Yi addressed her.

Then Tang Qin, the male second lead, and the other actors present crowded around. Wen Zhixu slipped out the back amid the distraction, avoiding notice.

It felt like deliberately dodging Song Yi. Light music played in the corridor; the conference room was downstairs.

At the corridor’s end, her phone buzzed. She opened it—an message from An Ran.

An Ran: [You there?] Attached a photo from inside the venue.

Media journalists arrived at the conference room first and waited there. They usually sat in the front row for interviews, with cameramen on either side, and the invited big V guests further back.

[We’re here, busy?] Wen Zhixu replied to the message.

[Busy, of course I’m busy.]

After sharing a meal with An Ran, they had grown familiar with each other. An Ran’s initial impression on her was very good, completely different from the entertainment reporters she’d seen in past years.

Seeing that the time was about right, Wen Zhixu replied to the messages while heading toward the VIP lounge. Her typing gradually slowed as a shadow fell over her eyelids.

She looked up to find a man standing in front of her, dressed in a suit and tie, wearing glasses, with a prominent mole at the corner of his mouth and a build that couldn’t quite fill out the formal attire.

His face flashed through her mind—he had just been sitting in the VIP lounge.

“Hello, Teacher Wen Zhixu. I’m the person in charge at Weiyu.” The man smiled and extended his hand.

Wen Zhixu knew Weiyu was one of the drama crew’s investors, so she politely shook his hand.

The man withdrew his hand and glanced at his watch. “A bit presumptuous of me—I saw you leave the VIP lounge just now, so I followed. The meeting’s about to start. Mind if I get your contact info?”

Wen Zhixu paused. She wouldn’t have any work dealings with these people; there was no point in exchanging contacts.

Her phone screen lit up again from An Ran’s message. Just as Wen Zhixu was about to refuse, an arm wrapped around her shoulder, long hair brushing across it with a light breeze.

“Married. Not convenient.” Jian Shichu pulled her into her embrace, curving her lips in a smile at the man while snatching Wen Zhixu’s phone and locking the screen.

The man stared into Jian Shichu’s eyes, momentarily dazed, then gave an awkward smile. Wen Zhixu only heard him mutter, “Sorry.”

Her attention was fixed on Jian Shichu’s hand, which gripped her shoulder tightly, as if afraid she’d bolt.

The man didn’t linger—the faster he escaped the awkwardness, the better.

Once he was far enough away, Wen Zhixu said calmly, “I can handle it myself. You’re not worried about offending Director Wang’s people?”

Jian Shichu ignored her completely. When she finally released her, she wore an expression like ‘whatever, I don’t even know the guy.’ She glanced at the phone screen—so it had been lit up earlier. Was Wen Zhixu about to add him?

She held the phone up casually, her wrist half-raised, her gaze slowly shifting from the screen to Wen Zhixu’s face.

As she handed back the phone, she shot a disdainful look in the direction the man had gone, then said flatly, “Why add him? He’s not even as handsome as me in men’s clothes.”