Ever since the argument with Wen Ru last time, Wen Ru hadn’t called Wen Zhixu again. Their mother-daughter relationship remained unrepaired, but Wen Zhixu wasn’t one to hold grudges. When she was little, she was obedient because she felt sorry for her mother and always shouldered the family’s burdens on her own.
Later, that obedience became an obstacle she couldn’t step beyond, a shackle binding her.
The next morning, Jian Shichu headed straight to the Mid-Mountain Restaurant. In winter, the place always carried a damp chill. She stayed in the tearoom for a full two hours.
Xiao Yang had closed the door tightly—no whisper of this matter had leaked out.
“The fruit supplier we’ve always used from the market hasn’t raised prices once. They switched spots two months ago. The discrepancies are mostly in ingredients, but the bulk was from the earlier renovation purchases. I went and checked—the guy who handled it quit.” Xiao Yang’s gaze lingered on Jian Shichu’s fingertips, where her finger pad pressed against the corner of the paper.
“A total of 240,000.” Jian Shichu stared at the ledger, her anger flaring. Her tone was mild, but during one of the mid-project renovation switches these past few months, she hadn’t overseen it personally.
She used to trust her own people and let small discrepancies slide without pursuing. But this time was different—greed had gone too far.
Xiao Yang asked, “Should we tell Director Wang first?”
“No.” Jian Shichu set down the ledger, her fingers tapping silently on the table one by one, her expression mirroring the rhythm in her fingertips.
At that moment, a knock came at the door. She lifted her eyelids slightly.
Xiao Yang went to open it. Jian Shichu casually flipped the ledger on the table face-down and picked up the original falsified one.
The person approached the table and leaned against it, one arm wrapped around her waist, waiting for them to enter.
The young man looked decent enough, wearing a black down jacket with the zipper open, a smile still on his face as he came in.
“Doudou-jie, you wanted to see me?” Wang Yao said as the door closed behind him.
Jian Shichu gave him a flat look and extended her wrist. “Tell me, where are those gold-rimmed fruits?”
The moment the words left her mouth, a layer of goosebumps rose on Wang Yao’s back. Jian Shichu’s mild tone had laid everything bare.
She never liked beating around the bush or testing people indirectly—straightforward questions were the best way to resolve issues.
Wang Yao’s lower lip trembled. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Doudou-jie, what do you mean?”
It was like grasping for a lifeline. Getting called out face-to-face was never pretty.
Jian Shichu crossed her arms, slowly lifting her eyes. “Wang Yao, is it that my salary is too low to keep you fed, or do you have some deep grudge against me? Hmm?”
“Yao-ge, the accounts don’t match.” Xiao Yang lifted his chin toward the ledger in Wang Yao’s hand.
Wang Yao’s grip crumpled the notebook, the creases pressing into his knuckles. His eyes darted away from Jian Shichu’s gaze, the sound of folding paper growing louder in the tense standoff.
“Do you want me to sue you, or not?” Jian Shichu watched him.
Wang Yao’s bravado crumbled instantly. “Doudou-jie, I was wrong. I just lost money gambling and had no choice. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. When have I ever denied your reimbursements? Wang Yao, I let the small hundreds slide before. I’ve given you plenty of chances, and you still won’t change.” Jian Shichu glanced at him and let out a long breath as her words landed.
She casually tossed the neatly reorganized ledger at him.
“Take a look. Sign and get out. Wire the money to my account today.”
Wang Yao caught it and flipped through. Pages of dense records, and then he saw the total at the bottom: 243,800 in all.
Shock flashed in his eyes. He froze, his body trembling as he looked at Jian Shichu. His mind raced, calculating. The bulk of the 200,000 had come from skimming on renovation equipment purchases.
“Doudou-jie, I never thought it’d add up to this much. I can’t come up with that today.” Wang Yao panicked and took a step forward.
Jian Shichu looked at him. “I don’t care. Today.”
“I really don’t have it today. Give me some time.” Wang Yao pleaded in a low voice. “I’ll pay you back for sure. I’ll sell my car. Just give me some time.”
“Didn’t think about that when you were spending it?” Jian Shichu showed no mercy. “Today. If I don’t see the money by midnight, I’m calling the cops.”
With that, she didn’t give him another glance, brushed past him, and left. Xiao Yang gave Wang Yao one last look but said nothing as he followed Jian Shichu.
That was Jian Shichu’s temper—she gave chances, but if someone didn’t take the hint and rein it in, there was no room for negotiation.
A new potted plant stood in the stairwell corner; its long leaves swayed as her coat hem brushed past. Her steps quickened slightly as she headed downstairs.
“The crew wraps in two weeks. I’ll handle things there myself then. You stay here for now,” Jian Shichu said evenly.
Xiao Yang nodded. “Don’t worry, Doudou-jie. If the restaurant needs more hands, just let me know anytime.”
“Thanks for the hard work.” Jian Shichu opened the car door.
“No, no, it’s nothing.” Xiao Yang scratched his head awkwardly.
With that, the matter was settled. After getting in the car, Jian Shichu turned on the AC and first messaged Wen Zhixu.
【Jian Shichu: At the set?】
【Wen Zhixu: No, shooting in Banan.】
【Jian Shichu: Send your location. I’ll come find you.】
【Wen Zhixu: All handled?】
【Jian Shichu: Yeah, handled. Wait for me.】
Jian Shichu tapped the location that popped up in the chat and switched to navigation. Only then did she lean over to buckle her seatbelt.
Meanwhile, Wen Zhixu read the last message, and the chill from the biting wind vanished entirely.
The crew’s final scenes weren’t at the restaurant anymore. Wen Zhixu had been helping revise the script, and her interactions with Director Wang had increased daily.
Crews were hotbeds for gossip. Even without prying, all sorts of rumors found their way into Wen Zhixu’s ears. Lately online, it was all about Tang Qin’s plastic surgery.
Wen Zhixu had stumbled on the photos online by chance. Celebrities got tweaks all the time. Tang Qin had looked like that during her arts exam days; there was a difference between her pre- and post-fame face.
But it didn’t change her good looks—few stars were ugly anyway.
Bundled in a thick down jacket, Wen Zhixu sat beside Director Wang. On set, actors’ downtime was mostly spent waiting, sometimes an hour or two at a stretch.
Out in the open field, Ke Yixuan was holed up in her trailer. She was invisible during waits these days—ever since cutting ties completely with Su Yun, no one heard a peep about their fights or entanglements.
Ke Min had handled things decisively. Su Yun had no backing, and after a few days of moping, the girl had bounced back.
Director Wang had a sharp eye and could tell something was off, but she wasn’t one to blurt it out tactlessly.
It had been over half an hour since the last “cut.” Wen Zhixu showed Director Wang the revised lines.
“Looks good. Use this.” Director Wang approved, and the assistant rushed it to the actors. They started adjusting on the spot, memorizing lines.
The lighting and props teams checked for adjustments based on the changes. Shooting summer scenes in the dead of winter—after handing off the script, Wen Zhixu tucked her hands back in her pockets.
The assistant director brought a hot water bottle for Director Wang, but she turned and gave it to Wen Zhixu instead. Her voice was gentle, nothing like her earlier stern professionalism.
“Xiao Xu, take it. It’s too cold today—don’t catch a cold.” Director Wang placed it on her lap.
Wen Zhixu smiled and refused. “No need, Director Wang. I’m not cold.”
“Take it.” Director Wang stood, as if afraid Wen Zhixu would hand it back. “I’m used to it. Don’t let yourself get sick. I’m heading over there.”
She didn’t give Wen Zhixu a chance to reply. And just like that, the hot water bottle was in Wen Zhixu’s hands—a gray puppy design, its face like it had a bit of mud on it. Even through her thermal pants, she felt the warmth seep into her skin.
Wen Zhixu had just pulled her hands out when a warm hand suddenly grasped hers. She turned to see Jian Shichu right there, sitting in the spot Director Wang had just vacated.
“Where’d this come from? It’s filthy. I’ll warm you.” Jian Shichu grabbed it by the dog ears and tossed it onto the chair beside them.
She clasped Wen Zhixu’s hand tight—better than the hot water bottle, anyway.
Director Wang hadn’t gone far. She turned just in time to catch Jian Shichu’s move and hear the words. A helpless expression crossed her face. Her girl really had no filter—she should be used to it by now.
“What’s filthy? It’s a distressed style.” Wen Zhixu picked it up again and set it back on her lap. First glance made it look dirty; second glance revealed the intentional grunge design.
Jian Shichu looked again, raised her eyebrows, putting on an expression of ‘whatever you say goes’.
“When do we wrap up?” Jian Shichu asked, her hand touching Wen Zhixu’s face.
Just then, Wang Yun turned around and looked right at her. Wen Zhixu’s face flushed bright red in an instant, even starting to feel slightly hot. She turned her head away unnaturally to dodge Jian Shichu’s hand.
Wang Yun immediately averted her eyes the second she saw it, pretending like nothing had happened.
Jian Shichu glanced back and withdrew her hand—not because she was afraid of Wang Yun, but because she didn’t want Wen Zhixu to feel nervous.
Wen Zhixu replied to her, “The last scene of the day is done now. We can leave.”
After stuffing the script into her bag, Jian Shichu took hold of her hand again and tucked it into her own coat pocket. She set the hot water bottle down on the table and led her toward Wang Yun.
Wen Zhixu wanted to pull back, but the other woman gripped her tightly, not giving her any chance. Jian Shichu leaned in and said, “An ugly bride has to meet the in-laws eventually. What are you afraid of?”
“Who are you calling ugly?” Wen Zhixu shot her a sideways glance.
“Me. I’m ugly.” Jian Shichu turned to look at Wang Yun.
Wang Yun couldn’t dodge the gaze this time and met Jian Shichu’s eyes head-on. The assistant director was standing right there too. After all these times, he’d pieced it together and had even indirectly asked Wang Yun about it before. Now he was completely unfazed.
“Mom, we’re heading out first.” Jian Shichu greeted her deliberately.
Wang Yun said, “Don’t go running around outside. The weather’s cold. Xiao Xu’s been out in the wind all afternoon.”
“I know. We’re off—you head home early too.” Jian Shichu smiled faintly and drew Wen Zhixu closer to her side.
Wen Zhixu kept a smile plastered on her face. She had no choice but to smile. What could she even say? Nothing felt right.
After passing Wang Yun, Jian Shichu leaned in and asked, “I told you not to be nervous. My mom really likes you.”
Wen Zhixu didn’t respond, glancing back instead. Wang Yun really wasn’t intimidating at all—she always carried this friendly vibe.
“Where are we going?”
“What do you feel like eating?”
Wen Zhixu thought for a moment. “Egg fried rice?”
“Chongqing’s got so much good food—why egg fried rice? I’ll take you somewhere delicious.” Jian Shichu chuckled and pulled her hand free to drape her arm around her.
