While the two men were chatting, the child suddenly vanished.
She wasn’t under the sofa. Zhou Sujin glanced behind it—nothing. He bent down to check beneath the dining table.
“She went back to her room,” the nanny reminded him.
“Chencheng, what are you doing?”
“Daddy—” came her babyish voice, full of frustration, though it wasn’t clear what she was struggling with.
Zhou Sujin left his cousin behind and headed straight for the nursery. Zhou Shiyi followed after, setting down the toy he had just unboxed.
When they opened the door, the floor was littered with brand-new socks.
Chencheng, brows furrowed in concentration, was trying with all her might to put one on—but no matter what, she couldn’t get it to stay. The nanny stood patiently nearby.
Zhou Sujin couldn’t help but laugh.
“Come here, Daddy will help.”
He scooped his daughter up into his arms, grabbing one of her chubby little feet.
“Why the sudden need for socks?”
Chencheng only giggled in response.
The moment the socks were on, she wriggled free of his embrace, ran to the toy corner, and dragged out her tiny backpack.
She stuffed a pretty little hair clip into it, then a pack of baby wipes. After that, she leaned over the bed, lost in thought.
Zhou Sujin didn’t interrupt. He just watched his daughter quietly, smiling.
Zhou Shiyi stood by the door, glancing from his cousin to the little girl. He didn’t have kids of his own yet and couldn’t quite understand the joy his cousin was experiencing.
Suddenly, Chencheng sprang up. As if she had remembered something, she tossed her bag on the floor, sending the wipes flying, and bolted out of the room.
A moment later, she returned clutching her pink sippy cup. She picked up the fallen wipes, stuffed both into her bag, and then knelt on the floor, struggling to zip it shut. After some effort, she managed.
Zhou Sujin remained hands-off the entire time.
“Daddy!” she called, dragging her bag over.
Only when she stood right in front of him did Zhou Sujin finally help.
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Mm!”
As soon as her backpack was on, she turned to Zhou Shiyi like a gust of wind and grabbed two of his fingers. “Uncle!”
“Let’s go!”
Zhou Shiyi adjusted her backpack straps and smiled, “Where to?”
“To ride the boat!”
The adults had said plenty, but all the child had caught was water and boat ride.
Zhou Sujin glanced at his cousin.
“She’s never experienced failure before. You better be careful.”
Zhou Shiyi looked down at the sweet-smelling toddler, her round eyes staring up at him expectantly.
Zhou Sujin leisurely began picking up the socks off the floor.
“Her packing effort just now is the toddler equivalent of a full workday.”
Zhou Shiyi: “…”
He bent down and scooped her up.
“Alright then, let’s go ride a boat.”
In Jiangcheng, lakes were everywhere. You didn’t need to go to the town center for a water adventure.
Before leaving, Chencheng kept repeating, “Hat! Hat!”
“No sun today, no need for a hat,” Zhou Shiyi replied.
Jiangcheng had seen days of continuous drizzle. Once it started raining, it wouldn’t stop for hours.
Zhou Sujin stayed home, leaving the nanny and childcare worker to accompany them. To make things easier, they took the family’s black business van.
Chencheng was soon napping in her car seat.
Zhou Shiyi rested his chin on his hand and gazed out the window. Billboard after billboard promoting Lu Cheng’s concert flashed past.
As the first stop on the tour and Lu Cheng’s hometown, Jiangcheng had been flooded with promotions a week in advance.
The car got stuck in traffic near the city center. Just ahead was a major shopping district. Every mall along the street had weekend events, and the road was jam-packed.
Twenty minutes crawled by and they had moved barely a few hundred meters.
The nanny, scrolling on her phone, finally figured it out.
“It’s that celebrity Lu Cheng—he’s attending a brand anniversary event.”
Her voice was normal, and since Zhou Shiyi was in the front seat, he naturally overheard. His expression didn’t change.
The mall was growing closer, and the enormous poster on its outer wall became clearer.
As they waited at a red light, Zhou Shiyi didn’t look away—he glanced up at the poster.
That man had dated Zhong Yi from high school until the first semester of college. Their relationship had lasted as long as his own with Zhong Yi.
From obscurity to stardom—he wondered how Zhong Yi felt every time she saw news about Lu Cheng.
The light turned green.
The driver eased forward with the flow of traffic.
A silver van passed them going the other way. The two vehicles brushed past at the intersection.
Privacy glass ensured neither side saw the other.
Inside the silver van, Lu Cheng’s manager, Sister Cen, ended a phone call.
“Zhong Yi’s studio just called back. They want three tickets reserved, but she won’t be attending—family matters.”
Lu Cheng nodded.
“She told me last night.”
Sister Cen handed him an eye mask.
“Get some rest. It’s still a while to the airport.”
They’d been up since five for an early flight to Jiangcheng. After the brand event, they were headed straight to Beicheng to film a car commercial.
Lu Cheng took the mask but didn’t wear it.
“I’m alright. Not tired.”
She teased him, “Is this what they call ‘nervous to return to your hometown’?”
He smiled faintly but didn’t reply.
Sister Cen leaned back in her seat and set her phone to silent. The past few days had been exhausting.
“Last night I heard a bit of old gossip about Zhong Zhuohua—happened before you even entered the industry.”
Lu Cheng turned to listen. Normally, he wasn’t into gossip, but Zhong Zhuohua was different. She’d never once looked down on him, even when he was just a nobody.
Always encouraging, always supportive.
Some debts of kindness could never truly be repaid.
“They say she broke up a relationship with the Jiang family’s third son, got pregnant to secure her position, and it ended in disaster.”
“Naturally, things with Jiang Jingyuan went nowhere. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stayed single for so long.”
Whether she gave birth or not remained a mystery.
“She’s not that kind of person,” Lu Cheng instinctively defended her.
Truth be told, he didn’t know her that well—just interactions on set. He didn’t even know where in Shanghai she lived.
Sister Cen chuckled.
“You’re still too innocent.”
They said fame never lasted long, but Zhong Zhuohua had stayed at the top of the game for thirty years. That was no accident.
There were early photos of her at the hospital wearing loose clothes, her belly slightly rounded. Unusual for someone like her, who was famously strict about her figure.
The pregnancy rumors spread like wildfire.
But three months later, she showed up on the red carpet in a custom, backless gown.
The rumors died overnight.
Another actress had been falsely accused of giving birth back then, so once Zhong Zhuohua appeared, people moved on. The internet eventually forgot.
Last night, someone snapped a blurry photo of a man waiting downstairs at her apartment. From a distance, he looked a lot like Jiang Jingyuan.
“Rumor is, Jiang never married because of his first love.”
Sometimes, the dramas of the elite made celebrity gossip look tame.
Lu Cheng suddenly remembered something.
“It’s probably not true. When we were filming, she once searched online for how to bond with kids. I saw it by accident. A real mom wouldn’t need to do that.”
In that film, she played his mother. There was a flashback scene with a four-year-old actor. She’d done tons of research just to get the motherly nuance right.
“Besides, if she really had a child, how could they go undetected for twenty-six years?”
Sister Cen nodded. “Good point.”
She reached for another eye mask.
“Even if it’s true, it’s not our business. If the photos leak, I’ll just say it was our driver delivering concert tickets.”
Lu Cheng didn’t object.
The conversation ended. He turned to look out the window.
They were passing Jiangcheng No. 1 High School.
He glanced back at the familiar campus. So much had changed.
He always felt a strange closeness to Zhong Zhuohua—maybe it was the shared surname.
A raindrop hit the window and trickled down.
It had started raining.
Chencheng burst into giggles as a drop landed on her nose.
Zhou Shiyi, holding her in one arm, took the umbrella from the nanny.
“No!” she cried, pushing the umbrella away. She wanted to play in the rain.
He had no choice but to fold the umbrella and pull up her hood.
“Rain rain rain!” she babbled, holding out her palms to catch the drops.
The boat hadn’t docked yet. Zhou Shiyi stood by the lake, waiting with her in his arms.
The misty rain blurred the lake into a dreamscape.
For the first time, he understood the poetic beauty Zhong Yi had once described—misty rain over Jiangnan.
They stayed until dusk.
That evening, he had dinner at his cousin’s place. The auntie made a full table of local specialties. When he saw the drunken fish, he suddenly thought of Zhong Yi.
Zhou Sujin fed the child first.
“If you’ve got time to help me babysit, you’ve got time to visit Teacher Yu.”
Zhou Shiyi ignored the jab.
He didn’t stay long. By 9 p.m., he was back at his own place.
He checked the time on the drive home—still early. After showering, he called Zhong Yi.
She had been waiting all day.
She was sketching by the window to pass the time.
“Hello,” she answered with just one word.
She used to be more talkative—whiny, playful, saying she missed him, scolding him for calling late, asking if he missed her.
He waited, but the line stayed quiet.
“Hello?”
Zhong Yi glanced at the phone to confirm the call was active, then held it back to her ear.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Drawing.”
The window was open. A cool breeze carried the scent of rain through the screen.
“What are you drawing?” He leaned against the desk, watching the drizzle continue outside.
“Just messing around. I’ll probably redo it tomorrow—it’s not good.”
She had spent the whole afternoon painting Teacher Yu’s garden. But when she showed it to him, he couldn’t recognize it.
Their conversation was sparse. If either of them didn’t prompt something new, silence returned.
He could hear her breathing.
“If you don’t have anything else to say, let’s hang up. Call me tomorrow,” she said.
His voice was low and warm.
“I don’t have anything to say, but you could ask me something.”
“Ask what? Ask if you’ll come to town so I can take you to try my favorite pastries? You won’t come anyway.”
Better not to bring it up.
“What did you do this afternoon?” she asked, humoring him.
“Took Chencheng on a boat ride.”
He realized she didn’t know who that was.
“My cousin’s daughter.”
Zhong Yi had heard her dad mention the little rascal—playful and adorable, just like she had been.
After a pause, he asked, “Anything else you want to ask?”
“Not for now.”
“Get some rest,” he said, and hung up.
He wasn’t tired yet. He opened a bottle of red wine, took out two glasses, then put one back.
He sipped absentmindedly, not tasting a thing.
[I’ll help watch the kid again tomorrow,] he texted Zhou Sujin.
[We’re even now for that favor at Kuncheng Auto.]
[But remember to bow at my wedding.]
Zhou Shiyi didn’t reply.
After dinner, he didn’t linger. By 9 p.m., he was back at his place.
On the way home, he checked the time—it was still early.
After showering, he found Zhong Yi’s number and dialed.
On the other end, Zhong Yi had been waiting for his call all day.
She was sitting by the window, painting to pass the time.
“Hello,” she said when she picked up—just that one word.
She used to say more. She’d act cute, say she missed him, ask why he was calling so late, tease him with, “Do you even miss me?”
Zhou Shiyi waited a while, but the line stayed silent.
“Hello?” he said again.
Zhong Yi glanced at her screen to confirm the call, then returned the phone to her ear.
Zhou Shiyi asked, “What are you doing?”
“Painting.”
The window was open. A gentle breeze carried in the fine rain, a trace of chill.
“What are you painting?” he asked, leaning against his desk, staring out into the rainy mist.
“Just doodling. Doesn’t look good. I’ll probably start over tomorrow.”
She’d spent the afternoon sketching Yu Laoshi’s courtyard, only to be told by Yu that it looked nothing like her home.
Their conversation was a series of back-and-forths. If one didn’t speak up, silence would take over.
The rooms on both ends were quiet, filled only with the sound of each other’s breathing.
Zhong Yi finally said, “If you’ve got nothing else to say, I’ll hang up. Call me again tomorrow.”
His voice was low and steady.
“I don’t have anything in particular—but you could ask me something.”
“Ask what? Ask if you’ll come to town so I can take you to try that sticky rice cake I always mention? You never want to come anyway.”
So why bother.
“What did you do this afternoon?” she asked, humoring him.
“Took Chenchen on a boat ride. Spent the whole afternoon on the lake.”
Realizing she didn’t know who that was, he added, “My cousin’s daughter.”
Zhong Yi remembered her dad mentioning that little toddler—naughty and cute, like how she used to be.
There was a pause.
Zhou Shiyi asked, “Anything else you want to ask me?”
“Not at the moment.”
He told her to sleep early, then ended the call.
He wasn’t sleepy yet. He opened a bottle of wine, instinctively took out two glasses, then paused and put one back.
He took a sip, but absentmindedly—he couldn’t even taste the wine.
He texted Zhou Sujin:
“I’ll help you with the kid one more day tomorrow.”
Zhou Sujin replied:
“Then we’re even for the Kuncheng Auto favor.”
Then followed with:
“At my wedding, you better bow to me.”
Zhou Shiyi didn’t reply.
The next day, the rain finally stopped after three days. The sky cleared.
Sunlight poured through the clouds. A breeze slipped in through the car window, lifting the fine hairs on Chenchen’s forehead.
She hummed happily for half the ride, then napped for the rest. When she woke up, they had arrived at a shopping mall.
It wasn’t big—just four floors. The only all-in-one shopping center in town.
It had just opened for the day, and only a few people were coming in or out.
Since arriving in town, it had rained nonstop. Today was Zhong Yi’s first day out.
As she passed under the mall’s entrance screen, a commercial flashed across the giant LED—Lu Cheng’s chiseled face filling the screen.
She paused.
Not far off, from inside a parked car, Zhou Shiyi rolled down the window and saw her staring at the screen.
Her gaze lingered only a few seconds before shifting—then, as if sensing something, she turned. Her eyes met his.
She froze for a moment. Recognizing him, she started walking over.
The small town had always been a line he refused to cross. He never even drove her to the edge. Who would’ve thought he’d appear here now?
Zhou Shiyi got out of the car to meet her halfway.
They stopped almost simultaneously, a meter apart.
Zhong Yi hesitated, unsure how to begin.
Maybe it was in her head, but the sharp black shirt and cold aura he gave off felt oppressive.
He spoke first: “Didn’t you say you’d take me to try your favorite rice cake?”
He didn’t ask what she was looking at earlier—but she still offered an explanation.
“When I saw the ad on the screen just now, I was just wondering what you were thinking when you signed that endorsement deal. Nothing more.”
This time, she reached out first: “From now on, call me twice a day—once at noon, once at night.”
Zhou Shiyi looked at her.
“And you?”
“I’ll call you too.”