Chapter 3: He Never Mentioned Marriage

Qi Yuan’s expression didn’t change.

She took the business card and said to Doctor Jake, “Thank you.”

So Jake settled in the villa next door.

Qi Yuan sat down on the sofa, playing with the business card.

Fang Yi was writing a draft on his laptop beside her.

He glanced at the card in her hand and snorted coldly.

Qi Yuan leaned against the chair, picked up her phone, and tapped on Gu Cheng’s avatar, staring at his profile picture.

Before she knew it, Gu Cheng had become even more distinctive.

A large hand tousled her hair.

Wen Chu lay asleep, the bedding soft around her.

Half-awake, she heard Gu Cheng’s low laugh.

“Do you have any scenes today?”

She shook her head slightly, voice soft, “No.”

“Then you’re resting at home?”

“Mm, have plans with Xi Ning.”

She brushed some hair aside and rubbed her face against the pillow, eyes closed.

Gu Cheng raised an eyebrow.

He knew Xi Ning—sharp-tongued, her words as cutting as her pen, a well-known editor-in-chief in the industry.

He pinched Wen Chu’s nose.

“Sleep a bit more. Go out when you’ve rested enough.”

“Okay.”

She nodded.

Still very sleepy.

Last night, in the middle of the night, he’d pulled her into another round of ‘exercise.’

In the end, she’d been pinned beneath him, half-dazed.

“I’ll have Auntie leave food for you.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Gu Cheng kissed her, tucked her in, then left the master bedroom.

The Housekeeper Auntie wasn’t a live-in; she came in with groceries and started prepping in the open kitchen. When she saw Gu Cheng, she asked how to prepare today’s meals.

Gu Cheng replied, then opened his phone.

A new message had arrived.

It was from Qi Yuan.

Qi Yuan: I met Doctor Jake. Gu Cheng, you were thoughtful.

Gu Cheng looked at the message.

Qi Yuan’s profile had changed a few times. Now, it was a magazine shot—her face resting on a lace-gloved hand.

He stared for a few seconds, then sent over Jake’s previous successful case files.

He replied: Qi Yuan-jie, please be patient with treatment.

Qi Yuan replied quickly: Okay.

Gu Cheng didn’t reply again.

He set his phone down, picked up his jacket from the sofa, and headed out.

Passing the open kitchen, he told the Housekeeper Auntie:

“She’s still sleeping. Don’t wake her. When she’s up, arrange her meal. She’ll probably have brunch.”

The Housekeeper Auntie was preparing sea cucumber soup.

She smiled.

“Alright, don’t worry.”

Bang—

The door closed.

Silence settled over the spacious apartment, save for the lights in the open kitchen.

Downstairs, Gu Cheng’s phone stayed quiet.

In that chat window, only a handful of lines showed—he and Qi Yuan hadn’t been in much contact over the past eight years.

Just as Gu Cheng predicted, Wen Chu woke up at noon.

Her long hair fell to her waist, black and smooth.

Wearing a nightdress, she yawned and stepped out.

The Housekeeper Auntie smiled.

“The soup’s ready. Hungry? Want a taste?”

Wen Chu had already washed up.

She drank some water, then walked over.

“Morning, Auntie.”

She smiled.

The Housekeeper Auntie had made two kinds of soup—fish maw and sea cucumber.

Wen Chu chose fish maw.

“You have some soup first. I’ll cook you something else. General Manager Gu said you like shrimp. I’ll make salt and pepper shrimp for you, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

Wen Chu sipped the soup.

Before eating, she’d also take some sugar-control pills.

For the historical drama Qi Yuan was filming, she had to maintain her figure, staying aligned with Qi Yuan’s weight.

After eating, Wen Chu tidied up and left.

She wore a hat and mask against the sun, heading straight for Xi Ning’s company.

Xi Ning had her own small studio.

When Wen Chu opened the door, the rich smell of smoke hit her.

She waved her hand, switched on the fan, and sat at the desk.

“You smoke way too much.”

Xi Ning’s lips, painted bright red, held a slim cigarette.

“Give me a minute, let me finish this draft.”

Wen Chu tore open some chewing gum and handed it over.

Xi Ning popped it into her mouth, still keeping the cigarette at the corner of her lips.

She glanced at Wen Chu.

“Does your guy smoke?”

Wen Chu knew she meant Gu Cheng.

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

Xi Ning stared at the screen, typing.

Wen Chu watched her frown.

“Who are you writing about? You look miserable.”

Xi Ning’s gaze swept over.

“What do you think? Who else but the one you’re a Substitute Actress for…”

“Qi Yuan?”

Wen Chu was surprised.

“You got a company assignment?”

Xi Ning kept typing, cigarette clamped between her teeth.

“The Wind and Moon at Dusk IP is huge. For Qi Yuan to take it on, it’s a real test. Your company reached out overnight, hoping for an article highlighting her acting skills. I just finished criticizing her, then found out the Heroine’s behind-the-scenes story. How am I supposed to write this? Write a line, delete two. Too painful.”

Wen Chu blinked.

She took off her hat and set it on the table.

“Go look at Qi Yuan’s past works. Maybe you’ll get inspiration.”

Xi Ning pushed the keyboard away and leaned back.

“To be honest, I don’t care about old works. I’m just curious why her acting’s declined these years. Or maybe, with you as her Substitute Actress, she’s got fame and fortune locked in, so she just fools the audience.”

Wen Chu thought of Qi Yuan’s anxiety and back injury.

“She has no choice. Anxiety and back pain torture her.”

“Heh.”

Xi Ning poked Wen Chu’s nose.

“You, do you believe that? If this goes on, when your ten-year contract’s up, she won’t let you go.”

Wen Chu’s heart skipped.

Xi Ning snorted.

“Just realizing? You should think about that possibility.”

Wen Chu pursed her lips.

Eight years as a Substitute Actress.

Of course she dreamed of having works under her own name, not always in the shadows for Qi Yuan.

She wanted her own light.

“Forget it. I can’t write anything.”

Xi Ning saved the document, shut down the computer, and stubbed out her cigarette.

“Let’s go. You’re not her shadow today. Let’s go shopping.”

Wen Chu shook off her thoughts, grabbed her hat, and was dragged out.

Outside, the air was much fresher—at least the smoke was gone.

She glanced at the green plants.

“You should keep some in your office. The smoke is too much.”

Xi Ning shut the door.

“We’ll buy some at a shop. You pick.”

“Alright.”

Xi Ning’s car was a powerful Wrangler.

The license plate had been hard to get—the company helped out.

They parked at a nearby shopping mall.

Wen Chu headed for the flower shop, while Xi Ning was replying to work messages and skimming comments.

With her sharp writing style, being criticized was routine.

As they walked, the 3D screens overhead flashed news about a collaboration between Gu Group’s drones and Zhou Corporation of Licheng.

A few limited-edition sports cars sped past, highlighting that in Jing City, some people had both money and power.

Xi Ning, immersed in the world of words, understood the social gap marked by status.

She tugged Wen Chu’s sleeve and pointed at the screen.

“Aren’t drones your guy’s department? Working with Zhou Corporation of Licheng?”

Wen Chu looked up.

“Yeah, he’s been traveling to Licheng a lot lately.”

“Zhou Yang isn’t just about short videos.”

Xi Ning knew a bit.

Wen Chu smiled.

“They’re in the same circle. Cooperation’s normal.”

Xi Ning raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been together four years, right?”

Wen Chu: “Four years, two months.”

“He never mentioned marriage?”

Xi Ning lowered her voice.

Wen Chu paused, then shook her head.

Xi Ning watched her.

She fought the urge to light another cigarette.

“I told you before—the status gap is there. Marriage isn’t easy. The longer you date without marrying, the harder it gets. Don’t your parents pressure you?”

Wen Chu saw the flower shop and led Xi Ning over.

She spoke softly.

“It’s fine not to marry. Things are good now.”

But Xi Ning’s tone was sharp.

“Not wanting marriage is your choice. But whether he wants it is his. Wen Chu, you graduated from Film Academy. Eight years of your career trapped by Qi Yuan. Four years of love tied to Gu Cheng. How many eight-year stretches are in a life? How many four-year stretches?”

Wen Chu’s heart felt weak.

Xi Ning continued.

“If you married Gu Cheng, would Qi Yuan dare mess with you? She wouldn’t. That’s reality.”

Wen Chu stopped, turning to look at Xi Ning.

Xi Ning saw the shimmer in her eyes, half hidden, half revealed.

She felt bad—on a rare day off, Wen Chu should be happy.

But the trending topic last night still made her angry.

She wanted Wen Chu to see reality.

By the circle’s standards, even Qi Yuan was one of them.

But Wen Chu was an outsider.

These sons and daughters of the elite lived as they pleased.

For ordinary people, ten years was half a life.

Wen Chu tugged Xi Ning.

“I understand, Xi Ning. But he treats me well—you know that.”

Xi Ning pressed her lips.

She didn’t say more.

The words stuck in her throat.

Inside the flower shop, they looked at green plants.

Wen Chu picked some for Xi Ning.

Xi Ning, dressed in a business suit, looked powerful—she gravitated toward cacti and other sturdy plants.

Wen Chu chose air-purifying, easy-to-keep ones.

In the middle of picking, her phone rang.

She checked it.

The caller was Su Mei, her agent.

She answered.

Su Mei’s voice came through.

“Where are you?”

Wen Chu paused.

“I’m out.”

“Come back to the set. We need to film a few more scenes.”

On Su Mei’s end, the fan was whirring, and the Deputy Director was talking to Qi Yuan, calling her name.

Wen Chu frowned.

“What scenes? I thought we finished yesterday.”

“Wen Chu, Qi Yuan’s not doing well. You need to stand in for her. Need I say more?”

Su Mei was blunt.

Wen Chu held her phone.

Xi Ning looked up—this situation wasn’t new.

It always ended in a contract clause.

Wen Chu didn’t bother arguing.

“I’ll wrap up and head over.”

“Alright. Travel safe.”

Su Mei hung up.

Wen Chu put away her phone, picked up a pot of rosemary, and went to pay.

“Xi Ning, let’s just get this.”

Xi Ning, carrying a cactus, looked displeased.

“They want you back on set?”

“Qi Yuan’s health hasn’t been good.”

Xi Ning snorted.

“Then quit the industry. Why bother acting?”

She knew Wen Chu was bound by contract.

There was nothing to be done.

They carried their plants back to the car.

Xi Ning stepped on the gas and drove Wen Chu back to the film city.