Zhou Shiyi had just reentered the banquet hall when someone called out to him before he even made it back to the main table.
“Hey—wait up!”
Ji Fanxing grabbed her purse and strode over, eyes sparkling. “Finally caught you.”
The crowd surrounding him earlier had been like waves, one group after another—she hadn’t found a single opening.
Zhou Shiyi stopped and waited for her to approach.
“What is it?”
She cut straight to the point. “I heard Kunchen Auto signed a new spokesperson?”
Better to hear it from the boss than rely on online gossip.
They walked side by side toward the main table. Zhou Shiyi turned slightly toward her.
“What do you want to ask?”
Ji Fanxing had a million questions—but knowing him, she worried he’d brush off her curiosity.
“Is it Lu Cheng?” she asked.
Zhou Shiyi answered coolly, “Yes.”
They’d grown up together, so Ji Fanxing was used to his aloofness and didn’t take it personally.
Still, she quietly celebrated the news.
No mirror was needed to tell her how radiant her smile had become—brighter than if she’d scored the endorsement herself.
Lu Cheng was one of the few true triple-threats in the entertainment industry—top-tier in acting, singing, and variety.
He’d taken the public by storm when he debuted, and his talent had since proven to exceed even his stunning looks.
In recent years, he’d focused solely on films, dominating mainstream awards.
Two years ago, he snagged dual Best Actor titles for a hard-hitting drama, becoming the youngest actor to complete the “grand slam” of film awards.
Last year, Lu Cheng announced he’d take a break from acting to fulfill a long-held dream: a nationwide concert tour.
After a year of prep, the first show would open this April in his hometown of Jiangcheng—and tickets had sold out in seconds.
She’d called in every favor just to snag one.
As a director, Lu Cheng was one of her dream collaborators: humble, grounded, fiercely principled.
It was rare for someone that deep in the fame machine to still be truly himself.
Unfortunately, she lacked the seniority to land a project with him yet.
Still, seeing his growing commercial success, she was genuinely happy for him.
As they reached the table, Ji Fanxing greeted warmly, “Uncle Jiang.”
Jiang Jingyuan smiled gently.
“Haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to lately?”
“Messing around,” she said, half-joking.
In truth, she’d been floundering for two years with little to show for it. Her father had issued a final warning—no more indulgence.
“Trying things while you’re young isn’t a bad thing.”
Jiang Jingyuan gestured to the server to add a place setting.
Ji Fanxing quickly waved it off.
“No need, Uncle. I already ate at my table. Just came over to get a closer look at the auction items—and to ask Zhou Shiyi about the Kunchen endorsement.”
Jiang Jingyuan understood and didn’t insist.
A temporary chair was added behind Zhou Shiyi for easier conversation.
Ji Fanxing sat down and leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
“So… is he a spokesperson or a brand ambassador?”
Zhou Shiyi set down his phone and picked up his water glass.
“Not sure.”
Unbelievable.
“You’re the boss,” she said, not letting it go.
“I’m not.”
Ji Fanxing straightened, momentarily speechless.
She glanced at her watch. Five minutes until the auction.
With nothing better to do, she poked his shoulder with her purse and decided to press for gossip instead.
Zhou Shiyi leaned back, crossed his legs, and tilted his head toward her.
“Go on.”
“I heard Uncle Jiang is playing matchmaker now? Of all people!”
She couldn’t imagine Jiang Jingyuan—famously single—getting involved in young people’s love lives.
“Did he actually set you up?”
Zhou Shiyi sipped his water slowly, offering no real answer.
“You didn’t turn it down?” she asked in disbelief.
“I didn’t.”
Ji Fanxing was floored.
“Wow. So you’re really going through with it? Who’s the girl? Do I know her?”
“No.”
So, not someone from their circle.
“Got a photo at least? Let me see.”
“No.”
He sat up straighter—clearly done with the topic. Ji Fanxing, sensing it wasn’t his favorite subject, backed off.
On stage, the charity auction began.
The first item started at five hundred thousand yuan. Before the auctioneer finished speaking, someone at the main table had already raised a paddle.
Yang Xi had to sit up straight to see who it was. From her angle, she needed glasses.
She squinted, then confirmed—it was Zhou Shiyi.
At formal auctions, big names rarely showed up in person. Their assistants usually bid for them. But tonight was special—nearly every big shot was here to support the event themselves.
Now that she knew Zhou Shiyi was Zhong Yi’s ex, Yang Xi avoided looking at her seatmate’s reaction.
Zhong Yi was busy replying to her father.
He’d asked if she’d eaten and whether she was hungry.
[I had two pieces of cake. Still waiting for the main courses.]
Jiang Jingyuan:
The food won’t come out until after the auction. If you’re starving, I’ll ask the kitchen to bring you something early.
Zhong Yi: No worries. I can hold out.
She even sent a bear emoji crawling off the ground, struggling to stand up.
Jiang Jingyuan smiled and gently transitioned:
The girl next to Zhou Shiyi is Ji Fanxing. They’ve known each other since childhood. She’s a director—they were just talking about Kunchen Auto’s endorsement.
He was clearly trying to clear up any misunderstanding before one even formed.
But she didn’t need the reassurance.
If there was one thing she knew, it was that regardless of Zhou Shiyi’s feelings toward her, he would never embarrass her publicly—especially not with her father sitting right beside him.
Zhong Yi: I’ve met Ji Fanxing—briefly, at an art exhibition.
Jiang Jingyuan: She’s straightforward. I’ll introduce you two properly next time.
Zhong Yi: Ok.
“Five-fifty! Any more bids?”
“Would you consider going higher?”
“…No? Alright, five-fifty it is. Congratulations to Number Eight!”
The gavel fell.
Colleagues around Zhong Yi whispered that Number Eight was Zhou Shiyi.
Once the auction wrapped up, she glanced toward the main table. Ji Fanxing was gone.
“Zhong-jie, the food’s here—have a taste.”
Yang Xi tactfully steered the conversation to appetizers and then to the intricately made dessert soup, avoiding anything sensitive.
As the banquet drew to a close, Jiang Jingyuan put down his wine glass and turned to his “son-in-law.”
“Zhong Yi didn’t drive tonight. She’s got a meeting with the curators after this. Should I wait for her, or will you?”
Anyone with sense wouldn’t leave the father-in-law waiting.
“I’ll wait,” Zhou Shiyi said.
Jiang Jingyuan patted him on the shoulder, pretending he didn’t know their history. “Appreciate it.”
He and Professor Yu left the hall.
“Where’s Zhong Yi?” Professor Yu asked, scanning the room.
They passed by her table. Jiang Jingyuan glanced at her short hair and, with some amusement, said, “Still don’t believe your eyes are getting old?”
Professor Yu huffed. It had been three years since he’d seen Zhong Yi. Back then, she’d had long hair. Now, his gaze skimmed over only the women with long hair.
Even as they exited the banquet hall, he hadn’t spotted her.
Once the guests left, the curation company held a brief wrap-up meeting.
Zhong Yi preferred to see things through and sat in the back, listening.
Just outside in the hallway, Ji Fanxing sat in the lounge, a slim cigarette between her lips—caught between the desire to smoke and the will not to.
She’d picked up the habit for two months when stressed, but quitting had proven even harder than smoking itself.
She’d kicked most of the addiction, but a familiar face had handed her a cigarette as the banquet ended, and she hadn’t yet let it go.
There was no lighter on the table—only a crystal ashtray.
She sighed and took the cigarette from her lips.
“Aren’t you quitting?”
She looked up. Zhou Shiyi had taken a seat across from her on the other sofa.
“Didn’t smoke it.” She waved the unlit cigarette and tossed it into the ashtray.
“You’re still here?”
“Waiting for someone.”
Ji Fanxing chuckled.
“What a coincidence. Me too.”
Before they could get past pleasantries, the post-banquet crowd began to trickle out.
Then she spotted someone and shot to her feet.
“There’s the person I’m waiting for. Let’s have dinner sometime,” she said, waving at Zhou Shiyi.
Most of her dinner invitations came with ulterior motives, but Zhou Shiyi still gave her a polite nod.
“Miss Zhong.” Ji Fanxing approached with a smile.
Zhong Yi had already noticed him—the white shirt, the suit jacket tossed casually over the couch.
Maybe it was because they used to know each other so well. Wherever he was, she’d always spot him first.
But she didn’t have time to linger on the thought—Ji Fanxing was already in front of her.
“Would you mind exchanging contact info? I’d love to go see another exhibition together sometime.”
It wasn’t a lie—Ji Fanxing really liked her looks. Even if they didn’t end up working together, being friends wouldn’t be so bad.
Zhong Yi didn’t mind. She took out her phone and brought up her QR code.
“Thanks,” Ji Fanxing said brightly, adding her right away.
As Zhong Yi accepted the friend request, Zhou Shiyi was still sitting there, in full view.
No longer caring about the presence of others, she looked straight at him.
“You haven’t left?”
He stood.
“Waiting for you. I’ll drive you home.”
She knew it was her father who asked him to wait—but still, hearing him say it made her heart skip.
Ji Fanxing had just updated his contact name when she overheard that exchange. Her head snapped up, staring between them in disbelief.
She had assumed Zhou Shiyi was waiting for a business associate—not a woman.
The three of them headed to the elevator, each carrying their own thoughts.
Ji Fanxing casually complimented the painting on Zhong Yi’s canvas bag. That filled the silence until the elevator arrived.
Once inside, Zhou Shiyi and Zhong Yi naturally stood on opposite sides, with Ji Fanxing stuck awkwardly between them.
She glanced at Zhou Shiyi’s expression—he wasn’t looking at Zhong Yi like she was just some casual acquaintance.
But he was already engaged.
Trying to probe subtly, Ji Fanxing asked, “You two met at the exhibition?”
“No,” Zhong Yi replied.
Before she could think of how to elaborate, Zhou Shiyi added calmly, “We’ve known each other for a long time.”
Then, he dropped the bomb: “The person Uncle Jiang introduced me to… was Zhong Yi.”
Ji Fanxing’s pupils dilated in shock.
“What?”
“…Then why weren’t you two talking at dinner?”
She hadn’t even realized how flustered she sounded. What she meant was—if he was willing to wait for her, why ignore her all night?
Zhong Yi had been volunteering. He knew she was there. And yet… no formal greeting, not even eye contact.
Ji Fanxing recovered quickly and forced a casual tone.
“My car’s on B2.”
She pressed the elevator button and slipped around to the other side of Zhong Yi.
Zhong Yi stepped back to give her space, which left only her canvas bag separating her from Zhou Shiyi.
The bag brushed lightly against the side of his shirt. Barely a sensation—but he glanced down, eyes lingering briefly on the painted fabric.
He remembered knocking that bag off a side table once. She’d sat on his lap and scolded him for a solid half hour.
That painting on it, she’d told him, was the work of a master—worth at least five million.
He had thought she was joking, assuming it was just a creative piece from a shop in her hometown.
He’d promised to one day get her a real painting by Professor Yu.
But then, they had split.
Tonight, at last, he’d had the chance.
Now, he owed her nothing.
Though she probably didn’t remember why he wanted to give her that painting in the first place.
The elevator stopped at B1. Zhou Shiyi’s car was already waiting.
Ji Fanxing waved them off as the two stepped out. Zhou Shiyi kept a hand on the elevator door until Zhong Yi exited safely.
She finally let out a long breath.
Her car was on B1 too—but now she had to take the elevator down, then come back up again.
For some reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Zhong Yi looked familiar.
But she just couldn’t place it.
When the elevator doors closed, Zhong Yi walked toward the familiar license plate of the Maybach.
Back when they were dating overseas, she’d known all his car plates in China by heart.
Tonight was the first time she was sitting in one of them.
The car pulled out of the underground garage, merging into the night.
Inside, the cabin smelled of cool, woody cologne—richer than it had back at the venue’s window.
“Did my dad go to see off Master Yu?” Zhong Yi broke the silence.
Zhou Shiyi drew his gaze away from the window and looked at her.
“Mm.”
The cabin lighting was dim, softening the restraint in their expressions.
Anyone reunited with an ex in private would struggle to stay unaffected—Especially when their breakup had been equal parts unwillingness and finality.
They locked eyes briefly—then looked away.
Zhong Yi pulled out her phone.
After a long pause, Zhou Shiyi spoke again.
“When do you want to register the marriage? Let me know once you’ve decided.”
Zhong Yi didn’t hesitate.
“You mean, just go ahead and sign the papers?”
Zhou Shiyi paused a second.
“If your side has any particular customs, send them over too.”
Whatever she wanted, he’d agree to.
Zhong Yi thought for a moment—but in the end, let it go. This was a marriage of convenience after all. Some rituals just didn’t make sense.
“No customs. Let’s just register.”
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