Previously, rumors had been swirling outside that she had a daughter, but today, Zhōng Zhuóhuá personally made it public.
Actors and directors who had worked with her in the industry all congratulated her, whether sincere or not.
After the last time when Director Yu clarified the rumors for Zhōng Zhuóhuá, he reposted again with a comment:
“No wonder she carries the aura of an old acquaintance, turns out it’s the child of an old friend! Congratulations to my niece! Wishing you lasting happiness and eternal unity!”
Sister Cen, as Lù Chéng’s manager, naturally offered her congratulations.
Lù Chéng, having been mentored by Zhōng Zhuóhuá for years, left a personal message despite his busy schedule.
Looking at the person in the photo, familiar yet somehow more distant.
He simply wrote: “Congratulations, Sister Zhōng!”
“If you don’t want to leave a message, don’t force it,” Sister Cen said. “I already sent your blessings for you.”
Lù Chéng quietly withdrew from Zhōng Zhuóhuá’s homepage: “No force.”
Sister Cen could tell that from yesterday until now, he had been trying hard to focus on rehearsals but was often out of sorts.
She understood his feelings. In this world of fame and fortune, sincerity was the ultimate luxury. Thus, that past relationship was even more precious to him.
But one can never have both the fish and the bear’s paw; once you choose this path, you have to sacrifice some precious things.
He was lucky—though he lost much, he gained more, fulfilling all his youthful dreams.
How many people lose without gaining anything?
“Jì Fánxīng sent over a script through someone.”
Sister Cen had Jì Fánxīng’s WeChat and had just seen photos of Zhōng Yì’s wedding in her Moments. “She was Zhōng Yì’s bridesmaid.”
Without hesitation, Lù Chéng said, “Just push it aside.”
“Okay, I knew you couldn’t fit it into your schedule.”
Sister Cen glanced at the trending search list again. There were already five entries related to Zhōng Zhuóhuá.
Since her debut, she had been a trending figure—her tangled love and hate with many powerful and wealthy heirs was more dramatic than any soap opera could dare to script.
The public once thought she had failed to pressure her way while pregnant back then, but unexpectedly, the child was raised solely by Jiang Jingyuan.
For the sake of his wife and daughter, Jiang Jingyuan, the Jiang Family Third, sacrificed part of his career—something unimaginable in elite circles.
At the wedding, Jiang Jingyuan’s speech overnight turned Zhōng Zhuóhuá into the envy of all.
This was thousands of times more effective than any official clarification; after all, few had the patience to read through a written statement, which was often taken out of context.
At the start of the wedding, a video of Jiang Jingyuan cradling his young daughter was also leaked by the media and went viral across the internet within a day.
Netizens flooded social media, urging Jiang Jingyuan to make up for his youthful regrets by taking the Algorithm Big Shot’s daughter on variety shows.
“Little Yì was so adorable when she was young. Too bad I never met her then—I want to hold her.”
Shi Fanyin was also scrolling through the trending searches, rewatching the video of Jiang Jingyuan and Zhōng Yì rowing a boat as children.
Zhōng Zhuóhuá said, “If it weren’t for my daughter, Jiang Jingyuan and I would have broken up countless times by now.”
With such a lively and adorable daughter, neither she nor Jiang Jingyuan could ever let go. Especially since Jiang Jingyuan raised her; if she took their daughter away, it would be like killing him.
So how could he possibly let go?
Hmph!!
She was even more reluctant to part with her daughter—back then, she even gave up her acting career just to have a daughter.
Shi Fanyin exited the trending page and lightly sipped her wine, “I only gave birth to Zhōu Shíyì to fulfill a task back then.
If I had any feelings at all for Zhōu Yunlian, maybe I would have had another child, so Zhōu Shíyì wouldn’t be alone growing up.”
“Did Jiang Jingyuan ask why you only made the daughter public?” she asked with a smirk, resting her chin on her hand.
Zhōng Zhuóhuá replied, “He did. But not so directly—he asked why I only posted two photos. How could she ever make him public?”
Shi Fanyin laughed, “How did you answer?”
“I said I originally added one photo of him, but the system didn’t approve it, so it wouldn’t go through.”
“Ha!” Shi Fanyin took a sip of red wine and laughed until tears came out.
Zhōng Zhuóhuá hurriedly handed her a napkin, “Careful, don’t spill wine on your clothes.”
Shi Fanyin finally calmed down, “Now I envy Jiang Jingyuan the most. To have such a cute and smart daughter, plus such a beautiful and interesting wife.”
They were chatting when Zhōng Zhuóhuá received a message from her daughter: 【Love you, Sister Zhōng (kiss)】
Today was the happiest 520 Zhōng Yì had ever had. Their family was finally public, and Zhōu Shíyì was by her side.
She didn’t read a single comment online—she wouldn’t let any remarks affect her mood today.
She hadn’t expected her mother to choose this day to go public.
Originally, her father worried about public opinion affecting her wedding and had prepared a full-platform PR plan to suppress related keywords.
Now that her mother had revealed it herself, he put the original plan on hold.
Thus, keywords about her wedding, breaking up with Zhōu Shíyì only to remarry, and Zhōng Zhuóhuá secretly marrying Jiang Family Third and having a daughter exploded across the internet.
At this moment, she and Zhōu Shíyì were on their way to a restaurant.
He had reserved the casual restaurant they had visited when they registered their marriage—crowded, and easy to be recognized.
There might even be paparazzi following their car.
The downside of going public was that privacy was hard to come by.
Zhōu Shíyì asked, “Want to go somewhere quieter?”
Zhōng Yì thought for a moment and suggested, “How about eating at our cafeteria? Paparazzi can’t get their cars into the Jinghe Campus.”
The Jinghe Campus had several restaurants, with environments and dishes comparable to any in the city.
“Okay.” Zhōu Shíyì turned around at the intersection up ahead.
In the rearview mirror, two cars were following them.
He didn’t speed up. When they reached the Jinghe Campus gate, they were naturally stopped.
Going to Jinghe Campus was closer than the city—a less than fifteen-minute drive. The SUV entered the campus, but the cars behind were blocked at the gate.
Zhōng Yì no longer paid attention to the cars behind. She took a silk scarf out of her canvas bag.
Before getting out of the car, she handed the scarf to Zhōu Shíyì.
It was the limited edition one he had just given her.
At home, she had been busy changing to a new canvas bag and had checked her Moments again on the stairs, forgetting to give him the scarf.
She wore a wide-sleeved, small-stand collar shirt today, so there was no need to tie a scarf around her neck.
Zhōu Shíyì understood and took it.
Zhōng Yì unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him.
Between them was the armrest. Zhōu Shíyì neatly arranged the scarf, leaned forward, and wrapped it once around her waist, his arm around her back.
A white shirt paired with wide-leg jeans looked plain, but adding a scarf changed everything.
Originally, Zhōng Yì planned to wear a skirt, but there were still kiss marks on her collarbone, so she had to wear a stand-collar shirt buttoned up to the top.
He lowered his eyes, carefully tying the scarf, and Zhōng Yì held her breath and asked, “Do you still remember how to tie it?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “I can remember.”
It had been three years since he last tied it. He had created his own way of tying the scarf for her and had forgotten some steps.
It took a few minutes to finish.
Zhōu Shíyì sat back up, and Zhōng Yì looked down at the scarf. This tying method was complicated, with the end braided.
“Such a complicated way—you still remember it?”
Zhōu Shíyì picked up the car key and looked at her: “If I didn’t remember, you’d think I don’t love you as much as before.”
Zhōng Yì looked at him, suddenly longing to return to the past, to fall in love with him all over again.
He was so strong and cold, yet willing to indulge and comfort her in everything—how could she not be moved?
But now, it was hard to return to that intimate closeness in a short time.
Zhōu Shíyì signaled for her to get out first and pushed open the door to get out himself.
Zhōng Yì grabbed her canvas bag and also got out.
In recent years, she had always tied scarves in the simplest way—sometimes just hanging them around her neck, tucked inside her shirt, even skipping the tying step.
With him by her side, she wouldn’t repeat the same scarf tying method every day.
“You really are them!” At the building entrance, Níng Quē looked at them in surprise.
Zhōu Shíyì walked over, “Just coming to eat, paparazzi are outside the restaurant.”
“I thought so—no matter how much of a workaholic you are, you can’t go back to work the day after your wedding.”
Zhōu Shíyì lifted his chin slightly toward the restaurant, “Come with us.”
Níng Quē quickly waved her hand, “Won’t disturb your 520.”
Zhōu Shíyì said calmly, “Aren’t you family? No disturbance.”
Níng Quē smiled, “The wedding’s over, no need to bring up old stories.” Then he nodded toward the black SUV not far away, changing the topic, “So that’s the wedding gift Yan Tinglin sent?”
“Yeah.”
Níng Quē joked, “Wasn’t he jealous of you? And he still gave you such an expensive car!”
“Long-time hate turns into love.”
“Ha!”
Zhōng Yì approached and asked what they were talking about.
Níng Quē: “Talking about Yan Tinglin.”
Zhōng Yì and Yan Tinglin had only eaten together a few times and weren’t close, so she didn’t ask more.
Instead, she invited Níng Quē to eat with them. “No need for formalities, today’s on me.”
“Won’t disturb your couple time.”
“We’re already at the company cafeteria. Do you think there’s still couple time?” Today, wherever they ate would be watched; the benefit of the cafeteria was that no one would take photos, just a few glances.
In the end, a few of them went to a Western restaurant on the third floor of the cafeteria.
Many colleagues were celebrating the holiday; it was almost full.
The waiter led them to a vacant table inside. Passing a two-person table, the guy sitting on the sofa happened to look up.
They saw each other; Tang Nuoyun’s boyfriend was slightly stunned—didn’t expect to run into Zhōu Shíyì here.
They had eaten together twice before, so somewhat acquainted.
Tang Nuoyun’s boyfriend quickly stood up. “President Zhōu, what a coincidence.”
“Very coincidental,” Zhōu Shíyì extended his hand in polite greeting.
Tang Nuoyun, sitting opposite, could only smile and greet him, “President Zhōu.”
Zhōu Shíyì nodded slightly in response.
Zhōng Yì glanced at the man beside her—how was he even familiar with Tang Nuoyun’s boyfriend?
She didn’t have time to think more and continued forward.
Níng Quē looked puzzled but also kept walking toward their seats.
After brief greetings, Zhōu Shíyì didn’t linger and went to their table.
Once they were out of earshot, the boyfriend asked Tang Nuoyun, “Did you quit the project just because of your senior’s past with Zhōu Shíyì? There was no need—it doesn’t concern you.”
Tang Nuoyun shook her head, “No.”
“Then what? Are you unwell?” The boyfriend anxiously asked.
The only reason she could quit the project now would be health.
Tang Nuoyun: “My mother was Zhōng Yì’s father’s first love.”
Her boyfriend was stunned for a few seconds.
***
A few days ago, colleagues had chatted about Zhōng Yì’s gossip, mentioning Jiang Jingyuan and the first love, but no one had mentioned the name Yang Jiayuan—he hadn’t thought much of it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The boyfriend held her hand.
Tang Nuoyun: “You were at the critical stage of your experiment and I didn’t want you distracted. I’m fine.”
With the senior’s relationship and her mother’s background, it was best to avoid it. @无限好文,尽在晋江文学城
Back when her senior planned to marry Zhōu Shíyì, she had advised her not to marry a man who had someone in his heart. No matter how capable or well-born he was, she should think carefully.
Because once you fall in love with him after marriage and he still has someone else in his heart, that pain might last a lifetime.
Senior: “A man with such good conditions—do you expect him to be a blank slate? Impossible. We talked openly—deal with your past before engagement. If you can handle it, I think the past can be overcome.”
Just now, scrolling through the trending searches, she saw the wedding video of Zhōu Shíyì and thought this time his marriage had settled his past. Who knew Zhōng Yì was actually his past.
At the innermost table of the restaurant, Zhōu Shíyì sat next to Zhōng Yì.
Zhōng Yì tilted her head. “Are you close with them?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “Kind of, we ate together twice last year. Tang Nuoyun’s dad is her mentor. When we ate, he invited Tang Nuoyun and her boyfriend.”
Zhōng Yì nodded and asked again, “Are you really close?”
Níng Quē, sitting opposite, didn’t understand who they were talking about but pondered the subtle difference between “Are you close with them?” and “Are you all close?”
Zhōu Shíyì looked at her. “If we were really close, we wouldn’t need to get to know each other over meals.”
He clarified their relationship with Tang Nuoyun and the others:
“The first time, four of us had dinner. Most of the time was talking about you. I don’t know how the topic turned to Jinghe, but Tang Nuoyun brought you up first, and her boyfriend also knew you.”
“The second time, the topic was basically about Lù Chéng. Tang Nuoyun liked his songs.”
At that time, Lù Chéng was preparing for a concert, and Tang Nuoyun just kept talking.
Zhōng Yì:
Níng Quē:
Seems like I get it.
Zhōu Shíyì paused. “When she first met him for the blind date, she talked about you.”
The prospective match asked if he had a girlfriend.
Because blind dates often involve family pressure and playing along, not necessarily being single.
He said: “We broke up, but I still liked her.”
Zhōng
“Later, I couldn’t even bear to delete a single photo of you, so how could I keep getting to know you and get engaged?”
Zhōng Yì went from feeling hurt at first to constantly convincing herself not to care, and now calmly facing it all.
Those painful days were finally over.
While he explained, Níng Quē silently finished his lemon tea.
Zhōu Shíyì handed Zhōng Yì the menu. “Order first.”
Zhōng Yì: “You order. I’m hungry.”
Zhōu Shíyì flipped through the menu himself.
Zhōng Yì took some chocolates from her canvas bag, gave two to Níng Quē, and unwrapped one to nibble on.
“We might be destined to go through some things,” she said. “Yan Tinglin’s pretty accurate.”
Zhōu Shíyì paused while flipping the menu. “What did he say?”
“He said you and I will break up sooner or later.”
“You actually believed him?”
Zhōng Yì slowly chewed her chocolate. “Not before we broke up.”
But after separating, she really thought Yan Tinglin’s words were almost prophetic.
Zhōu Shíyì recalled Yan Tinglin’s phone call yesterday: “I always speak accurately. I predicted everything about Zhōng Yì before.”
“Did he also say you and Lù Chéng wouldn’t work out?”
Níng Quē laughed heartily, “Yan Tinglin definitely thinks your true love is him, and you’ll eventually split with everyone else.”
Zhōng Yì stopped guessing and bluntly asked, “What do you mean?”
Níng Quē: “Before the alumni reunion, Yan Tinglin asked for your WeChat at the library, but you didn’t give it.”
People asked for her contact every day, and she rejected them all—forgetting faces was normal.
Níng Quē laughed, “Don’t worry, Yan Tinglin didn’t take it seriously after being rejected by you. He even forgot about it himself. He only remembered when he saw you at the reunion.”
After so long, he had no feelings and definitely wouldn’t let Zhōng Yì know he’d once been ‘rejected’ by her.
“He knew you rejected Zhōu Shíyì, so he pretended to care about Zhōu Shíyì’s mood every day, comforting him. But secretly, he was thrilled.”
Zhōng Yì:
Zhōu Shíyì flipped through the menu, not responding.
The day they broke up, it was pouring rain. When Yan Tinglin found out, he insisted on braving the rain to pick him up.