Di di——
The phone Gu Cheng placed on the center console rang.
Wen Chu turned to look and saw Qi Yuan’s profile picture.
She looked up at Gu Cheng.
“Qi Yuan sent you a message.”
Gu Cheng had already seen it.
He said, “Let me check.”
He picked it up and opened it.
Qi Yuan: Gu Cheng, that brand of cigarettes from last time, have someone bring me a few more packs.
Gu Cheng paused, remembering the cigarettes Wen Ze Li brought back from overseas.
He replied.
Gu Cheng: Qi Yuan-jie, you should smoke less.
Qi Yuan: Mind your own business.
Qi Yuan: Don’t you smoke yourself? You act all proper in front of Wen Chu.
Gu Cheng frowned slightly.
Of course, he smoked too, but unless necessary, he wouldn’t do it in front of Wen Chu.
Gu Cheng put down his phone and didn’t reply to Qi Yuan.
Wen Chu sat in the passenger seat and tilted her head to look at him.
“What did Qi Yuan say?”
Gu Cheng glanced at her beautiful features and smiled.
“She asked me to bring her cigarettes.”
Wen Chu raised an eyebrow.
“Oh.”
Then she checked the time—it was almost nine.
Gu Cheng let go of her hand with one hand and held hers.
“We can’t make it to the restaurant. What do you want to eat?”
Wen Chu interlaced her fingers with his.
“I’m not very hungry. Anything is fine.”
Gu Cheng checked his watch, let go of her hand, picked up his phone, made a call, and rebooked a private kitchen.
This place required a reservation, and most dishes were sold out at this hour, but because Young Master Gu called, the owner got up from the poker table and hurriedly prepared a full table.
By the time Wen Chu and Gu Cheng arrived, the dishes were already served.
Wen Chu glanced at Gu Cheng.
Gu Cheng held her hand and smiled.
“I can’t let you go hungry.”
Wen Chu’s eyes curved, and the two went in to eat.
After the meal, the rain had stopped, but the whole Jing City was washed by the rain, and the air was tinged with dampness.
Wen Chu pulled Gu Cheng along, not getting in the car, but strolling down the sidewalk.
She looked up at the tall buildings ahead and thought of entering Jingshi Film Academy eight years ago, carrying her dreams.
To become an actress, to have her own audience, to perform works she loved.
But eight years had passed, and she still had nothing.
She turned to look at Gu Cheng.
Gu Cheng tilted his head toward her.
“Hmm?”
He wore a black top and long pants today—a casual outfit.
Wen Chu looked at him and suddenly felt that, in her eight years in Jing City, he seemed to be her only gain.
She remembered Xi Ning’s words today.
She tightened her fingers and asked, “Gu Cheng, do you have expectations for marriage?”
Gu Cheng was slightly stunned.
He looked into her beautiful eyes.
“It’s okay, I’m not against it.”
It’s okay, I’m not against it.
Wen Chu savored his words.
She raised her eyes.
“Then….”
“Wen Chu, it’s raining.”
Gu Cheng reached out to brush her brow, softly reminding her.
Wen Chu’s words were cut off.
She looked up—a few drops of water fell onto her eyelashes, cold and clear.
The night sky was like the heavens, and the raindrops, like broken pearls, slid through the darkness.
Wen Chu’s sentence…then will we get married…stuck in her throat.
At first, it was a few drops, but soon the rain became heavier.
Gu Cheng quickly shielded her, hurried her into the car.
Wen Chu saw his shoulders were soaked, his hair damp.
She snapped back, hurriedly pulled out tissues, and wiped the droplets from his face.
“If I’d known, we wouldn’t have gone for a walk. The weather’s so unpredictable.”
“It’s fine, I didn’t get that wet.”
Gu Cheng turned so she could wipe him.
His damp black hair pressed over his brow, making his features sharper than usual.
Wen Chu carefully wiped the water from his face, admiring his striking bone structure.
Eight years ago, when he invited her to dance, she was quietly drawn to his looks and presence.
The tissue brushed over his nose.
Wen Chu’s halted question still lingered, but she didn’t have the courage to ask again.
She used to think feelings came after career.
Xi Ning’s words made her want to take a shortcut.
To have a “backer.”
To pull her away from Qi Yuan’s oppression.
She thought, if she couldn’t become an actress, being his wife would be enough.
But was this just her own wishful thinking?
“You got a little wet too.”
He wiped a droplet from her brow with his fingertip.
Wen Chu raised her brow and smiled.
“This is nothing.”
Gu Cheng’s lips curled slightly.
He tugged at his collar—the feeling of the shirt sticking to his skin wasn’t pleasant.
He gripped the steering wheel with one hand.
“Let’s go home.”
“Okay.”
Wen Chu threw the tissue into the small trash bin in the car.
The silver bin was one she bought, hanging beside the passenger seat, mostly used by her.
When they got home, the housekeeper Auntie was already gone.
Gu Cheng took off his shirt with one hand and headed for the bathroom first.
Wen Chu turned to the kitchen to look for ginger.
She hadn’t cooked in a while and searched for quite some time, digging through cabinets before finding a small piece of ginger at the bottom.
She picked it up, then looked for a cutting board and knife.
When she started slicing on the kitchen island, she turned again for a small pot and searched for brown sugar.
After busying herself, she continued slicing ginger into thin strips.
The soft orange light glowed.
Wen Chu sliced the ginger into strips.
Looking at the pieces, she realized she hadn’t cooked in a long time.
Since getting together with Gu Cheng, he had handled three meals a day.
After they moved in together and had an Auntie, even when she traveled to other cities for film shoots, she often ate food Gu Cheng arranged.
When she was a child, her parents were always busy, so she learned to cook to avoid going hungry.
She brought this skill with her to Jing City, hoping to eat fewer boxed meals on the path to becoming an actress.
Now, with Gu Cheng taking care of her meals, she didn’t need to worry about it at all.
She turned to boil ginger water.
Gu Cheng finished his shower, wearing home clothes and trousers.
He sat on the sofa, rubbed his nose, and sneezed.
Wen Chu poured a bowl of ginger water and brought it to him.
“Drink it while it’s hot.”
Gu Cheng looked up and saw her in the lamplight—there was a fleeting daze in his eyes before he smiled and reached out to take the ginger water.
“You found ginger?”
Wen Chu sat at the coffee table.
She spoke softly.
“I looked around—the kitchen’s a mess now. I’ll clean it up in a bit.”
“No need.”
Gu Cheng pulled her hand.
“Let Auntie clean it. Don’t invade her territory.”
Wen Chu’s eyes curved as she squeezed his hand.
“Drink up.”
Gu Cheng tilted his head and drank the ginger water, placing the bowl on the sofa cabinet.
He tugged her gently.
Wen Chu sat on his lap.
Gu Cheng leaned in, nuzzling her nose without kissing her.
“Go take a shower too.”
Wen Chu heard the hoarseness in his voice and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You’ve caught a cold.”
Gu Cheng lifted his eyes and smiled.
“I’ll take some medicine later.”
“Then I’ll find you some medicine.”
“Don’t.”
Gu Cheng leaned in and kissed her neck.
“If you search for the medicine box, you’ll mess it up.”
“Who says….”
Wen Chu felt warmth spread on her neck.
The scent of his shower gel drifted over—pleasant.
After a while together, Wen Chu finally went to shower.
After she came out, it was late.
Wen Chu watched him take medicine, then they went to bed.
Remembering he was sick, Wen Chu woke several times during the night, placing her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, afraid he’d develop a fever.
Gu Cheng sensed her worry, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into his arms, holding her at the waist.
Wen Chu curled up against him.
His body was warm, but not feverish, so she was relieved.
In the darkness, Gu Cheng opened his eyes.
He looked at the woman sleeping in his arms.
He noticed every little movement, afraid he’d start burning up at night.
After a moment, he kissed her brow and held her tighter.
The next day, the weather was still gray, and the rain hadn’t stopped.
Wen Chu woke late.
Auntie was already cooking.
Yawning, she sat on the sofa.
Her phone had several messages.
The top one was from Gu Cheng.
He had gone to the company early.
Gu Cheng: Remember to eat when you wake up.
Wen Chu replied:
You too, drink more water. Did you bring the medicine?
Gu Cheng responded quickly:
Don’t worry, there’s medicine at the company.
Wen Chu: Mm.
She was groggy in the morning.
When he got up, she followed, kneeling on the bed to touch his forehead.
He was changing shirts, looked down with a smile, pressed their foreheads together, and asked softly:
“Hot?”
Wen Chu shook her head, half-asleep.
“Not hot.”
He said, “Then sleep at ease.”
She got her order and lay down to sleep again.
She even heard him laugh softly.
The other messages were unimportant, except for several from Xi Ning.
She opened them.
Xi Ning: The draft is done. Almost killed me.
Xi Ning: Picture
Xi Ning: That’s almost two packs of cigarettes.
Wen Chu opened the picture.
The ashtray was full of cigarettes.
She replied helplessly.
Wen Chu: That’s not just two packs, maybe ten.
Xi Ning: Who told her draft was so hard to write? If the company hadn’t taken it, I wouldn’t have done it. Did you just wake up?
Wen Chu: Mm. Slept late last night.
Wen Chu: I thought you were asleep.
Xi Ning: Didn’t sleep. The draft is on the Hot Search.
Wen Chu immediately opened Wei Bo.
A post titled was trending.
Wen Chu clicked on the article.
Xi Ning’s sharp writing style was immediately apparent.
It began by introducing Qi Yuan’s first drama.
She rose to fame with , not just because of timing and opportunity, but also her own strength.
She deserved the first Jin.
In the comments, Qi Yuan’s fans surged like a tide.
The top comment: “For Xi Ning to write a special praise article, our Qi Yuan’s ability must be solid.”
“Everyone shout together: Qi Yuan 666.”
“Wuwu, Yuan Yuan’s hard work won’t go to waste.”
“Yuan Yuan deserves it.”
“Yuan Yuan deserves it.”
Fans dominated the comments.
Scrolling down, almost all were her fans—other bloggers’ comments only appeared after a long scroll.
Occasionally, there were some sharp comments, but they quickly disappeared.
For example—
“Xi Ning, are you blinded by money?”
“Xi Ning, are you selling out for trash money now?”
But these were quickly drowned in the sea of fans.
Of course, there were also directors and producers who had worked with her in the industry, forwarding or replying.
For example—
“Qi Yuan is very professional.”
“Qi Yuan is one of the most dedicated actresses in the industry.”
“Happy to have worked with Teacher Qi Yuan. Hope she wins the third Jin soon.”
And so on.
Xi Ning snorted coldly while reading.
She sent Wen Chu:
Herd mentality. Amateur troupes.
Wen Chu saw that Qi Yuan had gained a lot of followers in half an hour, realizing the article had achieved its purpose, especially as more industry heavyweights joined in.
At the same time, another Public Account article quietly rose in popularity.
Titled