Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 72

The need for the actors of <Dyeing Fire> to experience life at the actual filming location, a certain urban village in Wuhan, was mentioned by the director during a meal of lamb legs, but it was finalized when signing the contract for <Dyeing Fire>.

The director hoped the two young actors could shed their star personas and immerse themselves in the environment, observing the people around to genuinely grasp the essence of everyday life in the city.

The final script of <Dyeing Fire> was set in an urban village in Wuhan.

The story centers on Xiao Gu, a cop who, after graduating from the police academy, was assigned to a police station serving this area and has been there for three years. Despite living in a big city like Wuhan, Xiao Gu’s world has seldom extended beyond this urban village. His perception of Wuhan is limited to its local delicacies like hot dry noodles, duck neck, and bean skin, the unintelligible local accent, and the cluttered village with its houses crammed together, haphazardly rigged electrical wires, and small stores sprouting up everywhere.

There are generally two types of people living here: the local landlords, who often own several properties, and the migrant workers, who are usually recent graduates, laborers, or other low-income individuals. These tenants chose the village for its affordable rent. To maximize profit, landlords often divide two or three-room apartments into as many as six rooms, or even merge and re-divide two adjacent apartments.

The more mixed the population, the more issues arise, keeping Xiao Gu busy all day. However, mediating petty neighborhood disputes isn’t what he yearns for. He dreams of being a detective and solving major cases, but even when criminal cases occur in the village, they’re always handed over to the detective squad, with Xiao Gu only assisting in gathering preliminary information.

Then, one ordinary day, a name appears on the list of individuals for the local police to monitor—Di Jiangtao.

Di Jiangtao, a 24-year-old unemployed youth recently released from prison after serving six years for robbery. While many ex-convicts successfully reintegrate into society, some fail or choose not to, often relapsing into criminal behavior. As a community officer, it’s Xiao Gu’s duty to discreetly monitor such individuals initially to prevent potential issues. Once they’re deemed to be living a normal, stable life, the surveillance discreetly ends.

But there’s something off about Di Jiangtao.

Precisely when Xiao Gu had categorized him as a typical aimless youth living off his parents with no major issues, Di Jiangtao exhibits unusual behavior—he’s been watching the owner of a small local store.

Xiao Gu doesn’t know what this pale, thin youth with a criminal past intends, but his instincts tell him something’s amiss.

So, Di Jiangtao watches the store owner, and Xiao Gu watches Di Jiangtao.

Eventually, Xiao Gu realizes that the store owner seems to be watching someone else—a seemingly ordinary local man in his fifties named Lao Zhang—divorced, childless, living alone but renting out two apartments. He spends his days collecting rent, playing cards, and strolling around—a seemingly affable fellow.

Thus begins a story of the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind, which, in turn, is being watched by another pair of eyes.

The truth that eventually comes to light is beyond what Xiao Gu or Di Jiangtao could have ever expected…

When Ran Lin got the script that night, he read the story from beginning to end. As he closed the script, the layers of cold sweat that had formed during the reading had dissipated, leaving only a deep sigh in his heart.

He didn’t know what the earlier versions of the script that Director He insisted on revising were like, but at least the one he received was nothing short of brilliant.

Even setting aside the deep social themes the director wanted to convey—urbanization, the transformation of urban villages, the clash between inherent living habits and spiritual temperament, and the rapidly changing society—just the surface narrative alone was a tightly woven, outstanding crime thriller.

Any actor who truly loves acting would be thrilled to receive such a script.

Ran Lin even repeatedly read through the key scenes between his character, Gu Jie’s, and the store owner, sometimes getting so excited that he would inadvertently read the lines out loud.

But as soon as he spoke, the atmosphere of the script was broken—his voice lacked the gloom, irritability, hardship, and injustice of Di Jiangtao.

Di Jiangtao is someone who wants to integrate into society but doesn’t know how, who wants to reconcile with his family but doesn’t understand how to communicate properly, and who ultimately escapes to this place, adopting an attitude of “If you don’t care about me, I don’t care about you,” challenging his entire external environment.

Behind closed doors, he might hurt himself, regretting his past mistakes, but outside, he puts on an indifferent facade, his twisted pain eliciting sympathy.

Ran Lin had only mentioned to Lu Yiyao that he was going to experience life for the role; he hadn’t divulged much about the actual story of <Dyeing Fire>. However, towards the end of their video call, he suddenly remarked, “You’ve really lost a lot of weight.”

Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected the conversation to turn back to his appearance, but after half a day of video chatting, his looks were no secret, and he responded more openly, “You didn’t just notice now, did you?”

Ran Lin didn’t banter back but instead asked, “How did you lose weight?”

“Rushed work.” Lu Yiyao didn’t even want to recall that period. Focused and immersed, he didn’t feel much at the time, but in retrospect, it was full of struggle. “I was sleeping only two or three hours a day, spending the rest of the time working. And the roles were all about self-torture and struggle. You recognizing me on video now is a relief.”

“Oh…” Ran Lin listened carefully, pondering.

“Why are you asking this?” Lu Yiyao furrowed his brows, sensing something amiss. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of losing weight.”

Suddenly, Ran Lin pinched his cheeks with the heels of his hands, pouting and mumbling, “Don’t you think my face is a bit round?”

Lu Yiyao rolled his eyes. “Whoever says your face is round, I’ll buy them a top-notch microscope.”

Ran Lin laughed and let go of his face, explaining, “It’s not that I’m fat, just that my current look doesn’t seem like someone who has suffered. Not a rich kid, but definitely middle-class. But the character in the script is a youth just released from prison, described as pale and thin, possibly even a bit haggard.”

“So you want to make yourself look haggard?”

“At least to appear closer to the character in terms of physical appearance.”

“Although I personally prefer you looking well-fed and clean, if you truly believe it’s necessary for the character, you can use some methods to make your appearance more fitting,” Lu Yiyao said, pausing briefly to look Ran Lin in the eyes with a serious tone. “But you must not harm your health. That’s a red line.”

Ran Lin looked at him for a while before nodding seriously. “Understood.”

Lu Yiyao was satisfied and was about to praise him for being “good” when he heard his lover add—

“I’ll wait until after <Chronicles of Winter> if I do decide to lose weight. Otherwise, how would a paper-thin Xiao Shitou lead his brothers to conquer the Nine Heavens?”

“…” Lu Yiyao wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but every time he heard Ran Lin talk about “conquering the Nine Heavens”, he seemed to sense a hint of excitement in his lover’s tone.

He just hoped the props department of <Chronicles of Winter> could withstand it.

By the end of the video call, Lu Yiyao didn’t bring up his thoughts about changing careers. It’s not that he wanted to keep it from Ran Lin; it’s just that this particular matter, he wanted to discuss in person.

It was his decision, but it involved both of them, and some things can only be clarified face-to-face. If they ended up arguing and Ran Lin just hung up, he would be left frustrated and helpless.

So, it’s better to discuss it in person. If they really can’t agree, maybe he can… exert some “physical dominance” first, then talk?

Lu Yiyao pondered the feasibility of this plan as he looked at his now dark phone screen, becoming increasingly absorbed in the thought.

……

Taking the high-speed train from Beijing to Wuhan only takes about five and a half hours, with the fastest train taking even less—just four and a half hours. Considering the time needed for airport security and the drive from the airport to the city center, the train often ends up being less hassle. So, when Gu Jie, his co-traveler, called to discuss the possibility of taking the train, Ran Lin readily agreed.

Early November in Beijing, the lowest temperatures was around 0°C, with highs of only about 11-12°C. Ran Lin wore a black hoodie with a casual black and white vest on top, both light and unlined, leaving him shivering in the cold as soon as he stepped off the train.

Fortunately, he soon entered the station, passed through security, and got into the waiting hall before queuing up for boarding.

In the bustling crowd, everyone focused on their own luggage and tickets, following the flow forward. No one noticed him, a young man in a hat and mask, until he entered the business class carriage and sat down, then finally took off his mask and breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking at the empty seat beside him, Ran Lin frowned unconsciously—Gu Jie hadn’t arrived yet.

The business class carriage was spacious, with seats not too close together. He and Gu Jie’s seats were on the side with two rows; he was by the window, Gu Jie by the aisle.

As most passengers settled down and the carriage quieted, Gu Jie was still nowhere to be seen. Just as Ran Lin was about to call him, hurried footsteps sounded from behind. Like everyone else in the carriage, Ran Lin looked back and saw his partner rushing in like a whirlwind.

Gu Jie, wearing only a T-shirt and a baseball cap and no mask, was sprinting so fast no one would be able to make out his face.

He stopped abruptly at Ran Lin’s row, quickly took his seat, and then gasped for breath as he took off his backpack.

“Did it have to be that dramatic?” Ran Lin didn’t know whether to praise or tease him. “Couldn’t you have come a few minutes earlier?”

“The driver mistakenly took me to the south station. Luckily, I realized in time and rushed back here; otherwise, you’d be traveling alone.” Gu Jie recounted his ordeal with a hint of tears.

Ran Lin, bemused at his sweaty friend, couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic.

But then—

“How did you end up going to the south station?”

“I got confused and told him that was where I needed to go.”

“……”

All that running seemed quite justified now!

Thankfully, with no further incidents, the train started moving, and the carriage grew quiet, with most early-risers beginning to doze off.

As the landscape outside transitioned from the city to the suburbs, the view expanded dramatically. Despite autumn’s arrival, there was vibrancy and vitality in the air.

Gu Jie cracked open a can of Red Bull for some much-needed energy.

Ran Lin gazed out the window in a daze, mind blank, just quietly observing, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

On reflection, over the past two years, he had been either rushing to schedules or holed up at home memorizing scripts. Even on his off days, he only strolled around near his apartment and seldom had the chance for pure leisure travel like this.

Even though it was called experiencing life, it was pretty much like traveling. Going to an unknown place, embarking on an unknown journey, uncertain of what lay ahead, but full of anticipation.

The scenery along the way was beautiful, and the five and a half hours almost flew by.

As soon as they stepped out of the station, Ran Lin took off his vest—it was noon and a sunny day, much warmer than in Beijing.

Wuhan Station was beautifully and grandly constructed, with a wave-like steel structure dome and an all-glass curtain wall, looking like an airport. It was filled with a modern vibe—a cosmopolitan modern vibe—which didn’t fit at all with the world in the script of <Dyeing Fire>.

But when the two of them took a taxi straight to the address Director He gave and got out, the feel changed instantly.

What appeared before them were rows of closely packed buildings, not tall, with mottled walls that looked old. The ground was asphalt, but due to lack of maintenance, it was pitted and uneven. A narrow stream of water flowed slowly down the curb into the drain, its color unclear, its origin unknown. The garbage cans at the corner of the road were overflowing, with bags of trash scattered around, emitting an unpleasant smell.

Shops lined both sides of the street, featuring unique snacks, supermarkets, jewelry stores, agencies, daily rental houses, and the like. Storefronts were tightly packed, each with its own distinctive sign, all aiming to be eye-catching, almost fulfilling every imaginable daily need.

Looking up, messy wires stretched between buildings. Many balconies were hung with clothes, but the proximity of the buildings made it feel like one could almost reach out and grab clothes from the opposite building. Looking straight ahead, the road was even narrower due to randomly parked vehicles.

Standing in the middle of the road under the noon sun was too conspicuous; people passing by would glance at them. After calling Director He, the two of them decided to wait between a small supermarket and a fruit stall on the side of the road, neither too noticeable nor obstructing business.

Director He didn’t make them wait long—just five or six minutes—but in that time, three groups of people came to the store.

The first group was two young girls, around seventeen or eighteen, who bought a pile of snacks.

The second was a young man buying cigarettes.

The third was an older lady buying soy sauce.

All three were locals, as they could clearly hear them speaking in the local accent to the shopkeeper.

Ran Lin paid special attention to the young man who shuffled in to buy cigarettes, maybe staring a bit too intensely, as he was met with a wary glare before the man left with his cigarette.

But Ran Lin was pleased; he could feel the character Di Jiangtao from the script slowly becoming clearer.

“You guys are pretty fast…” From five or six meters away, Director He’s loud voice reached them.

Director He looked the same as always, but with a longer beard and messier hair, making him look a bit rougher. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. Then we can put down your things and go eat.”

Ran Lin and Gu Jie had no objections.

Following Director He through twists and turns, they finally entered an unassuming five-story building.

While the exterior was chaotic, the interior was quite tidy, and the hallway was free of clutter. They smoothly made it to the fourth floor, and Director He unlocked the door. “Two bedrooms and a living room should be enough for you to live in, with all utilities, but no playing games all day long…”

As Director He instructed, the security door opened.

Ran Lin’s first sight was a simply decorated but tidy living room. Aside from a bit of a damp smell, everything was better than expected.

“Don’t worry, Director, we’ve come all the way here to experience life, not internet speed,” Gu Jie said, sensing Director He’s advice as a slight to his professionalism.

Director He, already familiar with Gu Jie, gave him a look. “It better be. The production budget is tight; it wasn’t easy to get the rent for these two months.”

It was Ran Lin’s first time seeing a director lament financial constraints to actors, which he found amusing.

Gu Jie was quick to action, changing shoes and sitting down on the sofa, then remembered to ask, “Director He, where are you guys staying?”

The “you guys” was referring to the poor scriptwriter still tweaking the script and the busy set crew.

“The white building next door,” Director He said. “You can see it from your window.”

Without getting up, Gu Jie turned and saw the white building through the living room window, nodding in acknowledgment.

Ran Lin had already toured both bedrooms. It was evident that the crew had been meticulous: the pillows and bedding were brand new, and the walls were freshly painted. Although the floor showed signs of age with some warping and corners curling, and the furniture screamed nineties décor, as a place to experience life, it was quite comfortable.

“How is it?” Director He asked directly after Ran Lin finished touring.

Ran Lin sincerely replied, “It’s much better than I imagined.”

“Experiencing life isn’t survival training.” Director He cranked his neck around, seemingly tired. “The main thing is for you to immerse yourself, observe, feel, then when it comes to shaping the character, you’ll know where to start.”

Ran Lin looked at the towering figure of Director He, feeling he could see through his rough exterior to the passionate heart for art within.

True to his promise, the first meal Director He took them for was hot dry noodles, just in a small restaurant downstairs.

Salty, spicy, rich, and with Ran Lin’s favorite sesame sauce, he finished a bowl in just a few mouthfuls.

Director He was pleased that the young actors weren’t picky or complaining, but he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. “This area will be demolished next year. It will be increasingly difficult to find places like this.”

Ran Lin sensed Director He’s reluctance in his words.

Director He had a special affection for Wuhan, having filmed many scenes there over the past decade, witnessing its transformation.

“Urban village renovation is a good thing.” Gu Jie didn’t understand the director’s sentimentality. “Once new buildings are up, the neighborhood will be tidier and the environment more modern. Maybe it will become a bustling business district, and the original residents might get rich overnight with the compensation!”

Director He glanced at him, his face clearly saying, “We have different philosophies.”

Ran Lin tried to think from Director He’s perspective, somewhat understanding. “New buildings mean cleaner environments, which is good, but it also dilutes interpersonal relationships. There’s no longer that community feeling where if one child is scolded, the whole building knows. From an artistic perspective, you’d prefer a closer, more interactive environment…”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head!” Ran Lin’s words resonated deeply with Director He, lighting up his eyes.

Ran Lin felt a bit guilty because he admitted, “Director He, while I understand you, I still have to side with Gu Jie… After all, people hope for increasingly comfortable living environments, and we can’t just forgo improvement for the sake of art…”

Director He: “……”

Ran Lin looked at Director He’s dumbfounded expression, finding the director oddly endearing rather than intimidating.

After dinner, Director He went back to his own work.

Ran Lin and Gu Jie’s task for the trip was to “live”, so they decided to follow their hearts and rest after a morning of traveling by train. No matter how comfortable it was, it was still tiring.

Back at their accommodation, Gu Jie took a shower first.

Ran Lin took some photos of the room and sent them to Lu Yiyao, then texted—[I’ve arrived. This is the house rented by the production crew.]

Lu Yiyao replied promptly—[Looks pretty good.]

Ran Lin was surprised—[I thought you would have complaints.]

Lu Yiyao—[Since it’s about experiencing life, it should be as grounded as possible. Otherwise, what’s the point?]

Ran Lin—[Why do I feel like you’re schooling me. 😥]

Lu Yiyao—[Because you reminded me of my painful experiences living in the great desert. I wished for a simple shelter like this one. 😩]

Ran Lin 囧—[Pat pat, don’t cry. Be strong.]

Lu Yiyao—[……]

Lu Yiyao—[Gotta go, I’m about to drive [kissing.gif]]

The animated kiss startled Ran Lin, almost making him feel it on his own face.

But then—[Why are you driving yourself?]

Lu Yiyao—[Taking advantage of no work to visit my mom and sister.]

Ran Lin—[Send my regards to the beauties. 😏]

Lu Yiyao—[Sure, I’ll video call you when I get home so you can say it to them face to face.]

Ran Lin—[…I was just kidding!]

Lu Yiyao—[Tigger loves you.jpg]

Ran Lin, now realizing he’d been tricked, reflected on how Lu Yiyao seemed exactly the kind of person to make a boyfriend say hi to his mom… Wait, who would make a “Tigger loves you” meme?

Teacher Lu, how much free time do you have on your hands?

After a quick shower, Gu Jie emerged from the bathroom to find Ran Lin smiling foolishly at his phone.

“Who are you chatting with, sweet as honey?” Gu Jie teased.

Ran Lin hesitated for a few seconds, weighing his options between deflecting, fabricating a girlfriend, or telling the truth, and decided on: “Lu Yiyao.”

He wasn’t ready to reveal the whole truth to Gu Jie, but he didn’t want to lie to his friend either. He wanted to be as honest as possible with Gu Jie, perhaps fully opening up in the near future.

“Lu Yiyao? Did you tell him you’re here to experience life?” Gu Jie, oblivious to the suspicious nature of Ran Lin’s sweet smile in such a context, sat next to him, drying his hair.

“Yeah,” Ran Lin, cautious not to be too revealing, closely watched his friend’s expression. “We often chat on WeChat now, keeping in touch.”

“I get it,” Gu Jie, completely unsuspecting, said with a nonchalant air. “After working together on the reality show and the drama, you must be close.”

If Gu Jie had shown any suspicion, Ran Lin might have thought about how to navigate the conversation, but with Gu Jie’s trust, he felt needlessly curious about how oblivious his friend could be. “It’s not just about working together. We just get along really well and always have lots to talk about.”

“That must be you accommodating him.” Gu Jie, turning to face Ran Lin seriously, said, “Honestly, Lu Yiyao is a good guy, serious and responsible, doesn’t cut corners, a decent person, but he’s not easy to get close to. If only he could be a bit more like Xia Xinran. That guy is too overfriendly…”

Ran Lin, overwhelmed with how to respond, simply nodded. “I’ll make sure to pass that on.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Gu Jie unexpectedly draped an arm around Ran Lin’s neck, drawing him close in a buddy-buddy pose.

Startled, Ran Lin was about to react when Gu Jie suggested, “Let’s take a selfie and send it to Lu Yiyao. Since he knows we’re here together, it’d be rude not to show my face.”

Ran Lin: “…”

Suddenly, Ran Lin thought that even if one day he and Lu Yiyao stood hand in hand in front of Gu Jie, unless he explicitly said they were in a relationship, Gu Jie might never suspect a thing.

This guy wasn’t just straight.

He was diamond-grade straight.

……

Halfway through his drive, Lu Yiyao received the selfie from Ran Lin and Gu Jie, with a note specifically from Ran Lin—[Gu Jie wanted to send this.]

If Lu Yiyao didn’t know Gu Jie’s straight-man nature so well, he might have taken this as a challenge!

Unable to text while driving, Lu Yiyao didn’t reply until he got home and was immediately ambushed by his sister, leaving no chance for further messaging.

Lu Yiyao and Lu Yimeng had finished dinner and were watching TV in the living room, waiting for their mother, Fan Li, to come home.

As soon as Fan Li entered, she rushed to her son, fussing, “Let mom see if you’ve lost weight…”

And indeed, he had.

Fan Li’s face turned dark on the spot.

Lu Yimeng wisely stepped aside, making room for their mother. Fan Li sat down, clearly displeased. “What’s going on?”

“Just shooting,” Lu Yiyao replied nonchalantly, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Other stars shine bright and make it look easy, how come it’s always worry with you?” Fan Li was both angry and distressed.

Lu Yimeng thought her brother should have anticipated this reaction, so when she saw him return home in such a state, she wondered why he was seemingly asking to be scolded.

But her brother seemed unfazed, which made her very curious about what he was planning…

“From now on, you can relax,” Lu Yiyao suddenly said.

Fan Li was stunned, not expecting such a reply.

Lu Yimeng blinked, equally puzzled.

“How am I supposed to relax?” Fan Li was confused.

Lu Yiyao smiled. “I’m quitting being a star.”

Fan Li reached out to touch her son’s forehead. “Have you taken the wrong medicine, or are you just back to teasing me?”

“Neither.” Lu Yiyao laughed, taking his mother’s hand down, and seriously continued, “I’ve already spoken with my agent. I won’t accept any new contracts from now on. Once I’ve fulfilled my current ones, I’ll move behind the scenes.”

“Behind the scenes?” Lu Yimeng finally caught on. “Brother, are you planning to direct?”

“Am I cut out for that?” Lu Yiyao looked at his sister dismissively, then turned back to his mother. “I’m planning to start an entertainment company, invest in projects, and sign artists.”

Fan Li wanted to believe, but the news was so sudden she found it hard to digest. “…Are you serious?”

Lu Yiyao nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Fan Li: “Your motive?”

Lu Yiyao: “To make money.”

Fan Li: “…”

Lu Yimeng tugged at Lu Yiyao’s sleeve, whispering, “Brother, isn’t that reason a bit weak?”

Fan Li’s face turned thunderous.

Lu Yiyao quickly added, “Self-fulfillment.”

Lu Yimeng facepalmed, thinking the money motive was at least practical…

“I’ll ask again,” Fan Li said, word by word. “Are you serious?”

Lu Yiyao simply replied with an emphatic and powerful, “Yes.”

Fan Li didn’t care how much money her son could make as an actor or running an entertainment company. She was concerned about what he really wanted to do.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to sound calm and rational. “Our family has businesses. The Lu’s have a conglomerate. If you want to achieve something in business, I support you, but why reject both options to start your own? I don’t understand.”

“I like the entertainment industry,” Lu Yiyao confessed. “I enjoy studying the rules and the play of this circle. I want to use what I’ve accumulated over the years in my future career.”

Fan Li nodded. “You like it, huh. If you like it, why not continue being an actor? Why switch careers?”

Lu Yiyao: “Liking the entertainment industry doesn’t mean I like acting. I’m just… okay with acting. I think I prefer doing business, so starting an entertainment company is perfect for combining my interests with what I enjoy doing.”

Fan Li was frustrated. “Then why didn’t you choose business school to begin with!”

Lu Yiyao: “Because Dad wanted me to go to business school, and I didn’t want to make him happy!”

Fan Li: “…Oh.”

Lu Yimeng thought she misheard. “Oh? Mom, he joked about his future when choosing his major in college, and all you say is ‘oh’?!”

“What do you know?” Fan Li disdainfully looked at her daughter. “Just studying business doesn’t mean you understand it. Real businessmen are made through trials and tribulations in the business world. Practice brings true knowledge.”

Lu Yimeng: “But you still need theoretical knowledge to apply it practically!”

Fan Li: “Your brother is smart enough to self-study the theory. Now he’s about to start a company; he seems pretty confident.”

Lu Yimeng: “…”

Done. The moment her mom heard it was to oppose her dad, she unconditionally supported him.

No matter how shrewd in business she was, when it came to her ex-husband, the “Mr. Lu” she mentioned, her rationality goes out the window.

“Here’s the thing.” Fan Li finally calmed down, addressing her son. “I’m a bit sad about your previous efforts going to waste, but if you’ve decided and want to do it, I won’t argue. You don’t want to take over my business, but at least you’re willing to enter the business world, which is comforting…”

“Go ahead and strive, brother,” Lu Yimeng chimed in. “I’m here to handle Mom’s business.”

Fan Li rolled her eyes at her daughter. “You, maybe in ten years you’ll make it, if at all.”

Lu Yimeng glared. “Mom, that’s favoritism!”

Fan Li challenged. “Then start going to the office tomorrow.”

Lu Yimeng’s bravado deflated, and she fell silent.

Up to this point in the conversation, Fan Li realized that her son was serious, and she understood that his eagerness to return was specifically to discuss this matter. In fact, she would be thrilled to celebrate with fireworks if her son quit being a celebrity to go into business. However, she felt a bit resistant due to the suddenness of the change. Moreover, the thought of Lu Guoming, that despicable man who had always hoped her son would enter business, getting his wish fulfilled, made her feel tight-chested, short of breath, and unhappy.

But whatever.

When Fan Li looked at her handsome son and lively daughter, she felt that life was quite complete as it was.

The three of them chatted happily in the living room until late, and then Fan Li went upstairs to rest first, telling the children not to stay up too late.

Once she closed the door, Lu Yimeng gave a thumbs up quietly. “Brother, you’re amazing. Just by opposing Dad, you won Mom over.”

Lu Yiyao sighed. “It just came to that in the conversation.”

Lu Yimeng nodded but still puzzled. “When Mom asked why you didn’t choose business school and went for acting, why did you hold back and not say? She wouldn’t have blamed you, just like today, all clear and breezy.”

Lu Yiyao tilted his head, recalling that moment, and finally remembered. “Oh right, I thought that answer would make Mom happy, so I shouldn’t reveal it too easily, saving it for a crucial moment.”

Lu Yimeng: “…”

Lu Yiyao: “…”

Lu Yimeng: “Brother, you’re too strategic.”

Lu Yiyao: “I just realized that too…”

Ding dong.

The WeChat notification sounded.

Lu Yimeng initially thought the ringing phone was hers and instinctively turned to look, only to see her older brother quickly grab his phone.

This wouldn’t have been suspicious, except his swift action aroused Lu Yimeng’s suspicion. However, she didn’t show it.

Instead, she casually picked up her phone, pretending to flip through it while stealthily glancing at her brother. His face didn’t reveal anything unusual, still open and calm, but then he said, “It’s getting late, I’m going to sleep.”

Lu Yimeng didn’t show any reaction, obediently responding, “Okay, good night,” and watched her brother head upstairs with his phone. She then narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

After waiting about two minutes, she turned off the living room lights, leaving only the night light on, and quietly ascended the stairs like a shadow, silently approaching her brother’s bedroom like a phantom.

The bedroom door was tightly closed. Lu Yimeng pressed her ear against the solid wooden door, faintly hearing her brother speaking inside, but couldn’t make out the words clearly.

Her curiosity was killing her.

Even if her brother was usually very reserved and secretive, he was ultimately a novice in love. He might manage his expressions well, but his actions couldn’t deceive anyone. Rushing back to his room upon receiving a message and immediately getting in touch once inside—there was definitely something going on!

Growing impatient, Lu Yimeng looked around and noticed a very thin gap between the door and the floor. She happily lay down, sticking her ear to the gap.

The previously muffled voice became intermittently clearer, but she could only hear her brother’s voice. She wasn’t sure if he was on a call or in a video chat, but he was wearing headphones—

“Yeah… I know…”

“Hot dry noodles… duck neck… soup dumplings… rice cakes… tofu skin…”

“Wait, you’ve only been there half a day and you’ve eaten this much?”

“Oh… planning to eat over the next few days… But that’s not right either, are you there to experience life or are you on a culinary tour of China?”

Lu Yimeng swallowed her saliva, feeling hungry before she could catch any scandalous news.

“Okay, you’re always right…”

His voice suddenly softened, unfamiliar to Lu Yimeng.

“Gu Jie…”

“Yeah, I’m upset…”

“My hair is still wet…”

“Yeah, that works…”

“Not enough…”

“More…”

His voice got lower, huskier, and strangely suggestive…

Lu Yimeng frowned, pressing harder against the gap, then caught a very ambiguous murmur—

“I’ll come over and help you take it off.”

Lu Yimeng’s face flushed red with embarrassment.

She almost reflexively got up and stealthily returned to her room, using her last bit of reason.

Once back in her room, she dove into her bed, her feelings complex and mixed…

Her future sister-in-law was a foodie!

Her dear brother was a rascal!

She had just heard Gu Jie… Wait, Gu Jie? Gu Jie? Gu Jie?

Lu Yimeng sat up suddenly, trying to recall how this name came up.

It seemed to have been mentioned without any context, just called out.

Could it be… the name of her future sister-in-law?!

Lu Yimeng felt uneasy, her brain racing like never before.

Gu Jie, Gu Jie, were not problematic, but Gu Jie… She felt she had seen or heard this name before…

Her brother’s social circle was quite narrow. As his devoted fan, she constantly followed his updates. Apart from Huo Yuntao, she hadn’t seen him interact with other people outside the circle. So, whoever he knew must be from within the industry…

Unable to figure it out, Lu Yimeng resorted to searching each name on her phone.

Gu Jie, no clues related to the entertainment industry…

Gu Jie, still no clues…

Gu Jie…

[Gu Jie, a male actor from Mainland China… variety show <National First Love Drifting Story>…]

There it was—a clue closely related to her brother.

No wonder the name sounded familiar; she had followed her brother’s debut on this variety show religiously! More importantly, the cast seemed to get along well in the show, and her brother had mentioned enjoying the later episodes!

Clearly, Gu Jie was a friend of her brother’s…

Or was it more than just friendship?!

Her brother’s tender, murmuring voice echoed in her ears again.

Lu Yimeng laid back down in despair, holding her phone high.

What to do?! This Gu Jie looked even more masculine than her brother!!!

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