The manager took her phone and tucked it away, then stuffed a coffee cup into her hand.
A long-handled spoon was sticking out from the paper lid.
Zhong Zhuohua rarely touched coffee unless she had to pull an all-nighter for filming. Even then, it was only espresso—no sugar, no fuss, and definitely no spoon required.
“Why is there a spoon in here?”
“There’s your daughter’s favorite sweet red beans at the bottom.”
Ah. Of course. The sweet red beans had been sent by Jiang Jingyuan, with special instructions to mix them into her coffee.
That man only ever knew how to use their daughter as a human shield when it mattered.
Anything else, she might not even glance at. But if it was something their daughter loved, no matter how sweet or cloying, she’d at least take a bite.
Zhong Zhuohua scooped up a spoonful and put it in her mouth. Her brows knitted as she swallowed—it practically caught in her throat with how sugary it was.
She put the spoon aside and drank only the coffee.
They’d added so many beans, the bitterness of the coffee was completely drowned out.
The manager teased, “With that face you just made, anyone watching might think you were chewing on bitter gourd.”
“It didn’t used to be this sickly sweet. That little rascal’s taste is getting more outrageous by the day!”
The manager laughed.
“Can’t blame her. Xiao Yi hit the genetic jackpot—can eat sweets for every meal and still not gain a pound. Skin’s still perfect, too.”
Zhong Yi had inherited Zhong Zhuohua’s porcelain complexion—glowing white and flawless, like a character straight out of a painting.
Zhong Zhuohua sighed.
“She’s really going all out with it.”
The manager corrected her pronunciation with mock formality:
“Going all out.”
Zhong Zhuohua was so amused she laughed.
“My Mandarin’s already perfectly standard, alright? I can even speak the dialect now, thank you very much.”
The manager just smiled wordlessly, watching her with mild amusement.
Zhong Zhuohua took another sip of coffee, reluctant to blame her daughter, so she shifted the target to Jiang Jingyuan instead.
“It’s all his fault for having zero boundaries. He lets the kid do whatever she wants! If I’d known it’d turn out like this, I’d never have let him raise her!”
“Studied painting with her for over ten years, and what did it get him? Not even half a sketch!”
The manager replied dryly, “Might be a genetics issue.”
Zhong Zhuohua chuckled into her coffee and almost choked. That jab wasn’t exactly subtle.
She didn’t bother arguing and flipped open the script to start memorizing her lines.
“What’s Jiang always say about all this gossip online?” the manager asked casually.
Still sipping her coffee and reading her script, Zhong Zhuohua replied mildly, “Nothing.”
“He’s waiting for your lead?”
Jiang Jingyuan had once said that whether or not their relationship went public, and when it did, was entirely her call.
But some things required him to speak up himself.
The manager murmured, “As long as it’s not that he refuses to go public, it’s fine.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Zhong Zhuohua scoffed.
“Unless he doesn’t want a daughter anymore.”
For all her complaints about Jiang Jingyuan, she had to admit—he was a complete pushover when it came to their daughter.
He’d practically raised her single-handedly, even setting aside his career for her. There’s no way he’d do anything to make her unhappy.
Truth be told, without their daughter, she and Jiang Jingyuan would never have made it this far.
While they chatted, a new trending topic suddenly shot to the top of the search rankings.
Director Yu, who’d worked with Zhong Zhuohua before, came out to deny the rumors.
He reposted the photo of her “secret late-night meeting” and wrote: The rumors are getting out of hand. That was just the driver from Lu Cheng’s studio dropping off concert tickets!
The film Zhong Zhuohua had collaborated on with Lu Cheng was a gritty, realistic drama—directed by none other than Director Yu.
There had been online buzz at the time, claiming that it was only because of Director Yu’s connections that Zhong Zhuohua had agreed to play the role of Lu Cheng’s mother.
Now, with a renowned director personally stepping in to deny the rumors, the narrative around her supposed “late-night meeting with a former investor” began to shift.
Zhong Zhuohua read the post and stared blankly at her phone.
Since when did Jiang Jingyuan become a driver?
Not just any driver—Lu Cheng’s studio driver.
She turned to her manager.
“How did this get so twisted?”
The manager looked just as confused.
“Only guess I have is… maybe he did it as a favor? Since you agreed to take a smaller role in Lu Cheng’s film?”
But even that explanation didn’t quite hold up.
Logically, if Director Yu knew the man in the photo was Jiang Jingyuan, he wouldn’t lie so blatantly to the public.
Sure, he was friendly with Zhong Zhuohua, but not to the extent of risking his decades-long reputation.
Especially since the meeting did happen. If the truth ever leaked, no way he could save face.
So why had Director Yu stuck his neck out?
Well, the backstory was a little absurd—
Lu Cheng had returned to Beicheng to film a car commercial, accompanied by his manager, Sister Cen.
After wrapping for the day, they went out for hotpot with Director Yu and a few other friends in the industry.
During dinner, someone brought up the rumor about Zhong Zhuohua’s supposed secret rendezvous with a former investor.
Sister Cen got so mad she cursed on the spot:
“These damn paparazzi don’t even care about their dignity anymore! Blurry photos like that, and they’re trying to pass it off as Jiang Jingyuan?”
“Please! That was our studio driver, just dropping off concert tickets for Miss Zhong! And now she’s getting dragged into her old scandals again—what a mess!”
With a friend saying it so confidently, Director Yu didn’t think to question it.
He couldn’t have known Sister Cen was just making things up on the fly—and doing more harm than good.
At the time of their hotpot dinner, the rumors hadn’t hit the trending list yet; they were only circulating in private industry circles.
Then, by noon the next day, boom—full-blown trending topic.
Director Yu had just downed a couple shots of baijiu and, feeling righteously tipsy, posted his denial out of loyalty. And just like that, the infamous repost was born.
Meanwhile, Zhong Yi had only just woken up from a 30-minute nap. She glanced at her phone—and discovered that her dad had somehow become a driver for Lu Cheng’s studio.
It wasn’t just her. Everyone was caught off guard.
Lu Cheng was a sensitive name.
Zhong Yi hurriedly changed out of her pajamas and rushed into the courtyard looking for her father.
“Dad!”
Under the gazebo, four people were still calmly playing cards.
“Awake already?” Jiang Jingyuan patted the bench beside him.
“Come sit next to me.”
“My back’s killing me from sitting too long,” said the mentor’s wife, rubbing it dramatically for effect.
Teacher Yu chimed in with perfect timing:
“Didn’t you put on that medicated patch?”
“No, I forgot because I was busy playing cards.”
“Stop playing and let me put this on you first.”
The couple used the excuse of applying the medicated patch to step away, so as not to interfere with the rest of the family discussing their plans.
Jiang Jingyuan peeled a fresh loquat and placed it in his daughter’s mouth.
“It arrived while you were sleeping.”
As Zhong Yi chewed the sweet, juicy fruit, she asked her father, “How did he end up being the driver?”
“Lu Cheng’s agent helped clarify the rumor within their circle, and it turned into this.”
Jiang Jingyuan reassured his daughter, “Don’t worry. I just explained everything to Shiyi. Even if we needed to clarify the rumor, your mother and I would never let someone like Lu Cheng get involved.”
Then he joked with Zhou Shiyi, “You used to call me Third Brother and said you’d take a knife for me. Well, here’s your chance.”
Zhou Shiyi chuckled to himself.
Now that Jiang Jingyuan was his father-in-law, it wasn’t appropriate to tease him back.
Zhong Yi asked, worried about her mom, “Dad, when are you going back to Shanghai?”
“We’ll see.”
Before getting up, Jiang Jingyuan peeled another loquat for his daughter.
“I’m going to call your mother.” He left with his phone.
Back in his own room, he dialed his wife’s number.
It took over ten seconds for her to pick up.
“What is it?” Her tone was cold and indifferent.
Jiang Jingyuan said, “Just letting you know—I’ll be staying there tonight.”
Whether she wanted to see him or not, he needed to be there for her.
Zhong Zhuohua said, “You’d better not come back. I’m not planning to respond, nor do I intend to go public. Xiao Yi’s wedding is in May. I don’t want things blowing up before that.”
Ever since the scandal broke, she’d been in constant emotional turmoil—part of her hoping the paparazzi would dig up her secret from twenty-six years ago so she could finally walk the streets with her daughter openly.
But she was also afraid of public backlash that might affect both her daughter and son-in-law.
This was a serious matter, and she spoke calmly to Jiang Jingyuan.
“Now that Xiao Yi’s getting married, her background doesn’t just affect her. It affects Zhou Shiyi and Kuncheng Auto as well.”
She had to think everything through carefully.
As for the rumors about her and Jiang Jingyuan, Director Yu’s clarification helped a great deal.
The old scandals would fade in a few days.
Her reputation might take a hit, but so what?
It wasn’t like she had a great one to begin with.
She reminded him again, “Don’t come back. What if a paparazzo is staking out the building?”
But Jiang Jingyuan insisted, “That’s exactly why it’s safest now. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Besides, the other night when I was downstairs waiting for you, I was in Zhou Shiyi’s car.”
“No one outside knows my license plate.”
At that moment, the only sound in the courtyard pavilion was the rustle of shuffling cards.
Zhong Yi thought about Director Yu’s clarification mentioning concert tickets, and looked across at him.
“With that statement, Mom’s studio will definitely have to attend the concert. She might even show up in person.”
“No problem. Let her go.” Zhou Shiyi slowed down his shuffling.
“I’ll be at the first stop in Jiangcheng too.”
He looked at her and asked, “Do you want to go? I’ll take you.”
“…You’re going?” Zhong Yi looked at him in disbelief.
Zhou Shiyi nodded.
Zhong Yi couldn’t read any emotion from his calm gaze.
Zhou Shiyi said, “No rush. Take your time.”
Zhong Yi still couldn’t make sense of his sudden shift. He used to avoid even mentioning Lu Cheng’s name. Just a few hours ago, he’d been asking how she introduced him to Grandpa Lu.
And now, after a nap, he was talking about going to Lu Cheng’s concert?
“What made you change your mind all of a sudden?”
“This has nothing to do with whether I’ve come to terms with anything or not. Our breakup wasn’t because we couldn’t work things out, right?”
They had just cared about different things.
Earlier, her father-in-law had been so careful in explaining the clarification from Lu Cheng’s agent—it was obvious he was afraid Zhou Shiyi might misunderstand.
But he wasn’t that petty.
Still, since even her father-in-law was worried he might get the wrong idea, Zhou Shiyi figured he should try to see the concert from a different angle.
He stacked the shuffled cards on the table.
“I’ve never listened to Lu Cheng’s music. I’ll check it out live. If you want to go, I’ll save you a box seat.”
Zhong Yi spoke from the heart:
“If I don’t go, you might think I’m feeling guilty. But if I do go, sitting in the audience listening to him sing, you’ll definitely feel uncomfortable.”
Anyone sitting in the audience at their first love’s concert wouldn’t feel nothing. There would always be some ripple inside. That ripple wasn’t about regret or lingering feelings—it was just about memories.
So whether to go or not, it was a struggle either way.
After thinking it through, she made a decision.
“I’ll go with you.”
Zhou Shiyi nodded, voice calm.
“Then stay at Teacher Yu’s place a few more days.”
“I’ll head back to see Grandpa and Grandma first. I’ll come over again in April.”
Jiangcheng’s first concert date was the night of April 9th.
Zhou Shiyi wiped his hands with a damp towel, took a loquat from the plate, and began peeling it. He rarely ate this fruit. Usually, he just peeled them for Zhong Yi.
But since everyone had said it was good earlier, he decided to try one himself.
Zhong Yi looked down and typed a message to her mom:
[Sister Zhong, Zhou Shiyi and I are going to Lu Cheng’s concert. We’ve finally taken the first step past the deadlock.]
That was always how she referred to her mom in texts. Even if her mom wasn’t holding the phone, there was no risk of giving anything away.
After sending it, Zhong Yi closed the chat window. When she looked up again, Zhou Shiyi had finished peeling the loquat.
She instinctively reached for it, but just then, the man brought it directly to her lips.
Her hand was suspended mid-air. To save face, she quickly said, “Can I borrow your phone? Mine’s about to die.”
As she spoke, she locked her own phone and set it aside.
Zhou Shiyi nodded toward the table.
“Take it.”
Zhong Yi asked, “What’s the password?”
“Same as before.”
In their four years together, Zhong Yi had only used his phone a few times. She’d rarely typed the password, but after three years, she still remembered it clearly.
She opened the trending list and scrolled down, keeping an eye on the public opinion about her mother.
“Want one?” Zhou Shiyi asked.
Zhong Yi looked up.
He held out another peeled loquat to her.
“Thanks.”
She reached up and took it.
In the past, whenever Zhou Shiyi fed her fruit, she would lean in and take it directly from his hand.
But now, instinctively, she didn’t do that anymore.
Zhou Shiyi caught a glimpse of the page she was viewing.
“Knowing your mom, do you think she wants to go public?”
Zhong Yi replied, “Definitely.”
Zhou Shiyi said, “Then I’ll handle it.”
Since his phone was with Zhong Yi, he held out his hand.
“Let me use it. I need to make a call.”
Before Zhong Yi could ask what he was going to do, the call had already connected.
Zhou Shiyi instructed Zhan Liang, “Leak my father-in-law’s Shanghai license plate number to the media. Then tell them, around 8 p.m. tonight, Jiang Jingyuan will be going to Zhong Zhuohua’s apartment.”
“If they follow that car, they’ll get the proof they want.”
Zhan Liang replied, “…Got it, President Zhou. I’ll get on it right away.”