After I Started Dating the Scum Gong Substitute, the White Moonlight Returned - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The second day after the rain stopped, the production crew arranged diving lessons and bare-handed sea fishing. Everyone played until they were exhausted. Among the non-celebrities, Cheng Jianyu belonged to the “easy to film” category. Like Jiang Yan, he didn’t talk much on camera, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence. From his head to his toes, Jiang Yan exuded a sense of impatience, cold and flamboyant; it wasn’t that he lacked words, but rather that he was unwilling to reveal them to the lens.

Cheng Jianyu was exactly his opposite. He looked lofty and cold, yet he completed tasks on camera without any reluctance and showed great patience with the complex filming processes. When he did speak, he was concise and to the point, treating words like gold. He truly did not enjoy conversing with people.

As the recording neared its end and everyone returned from outside, the director specially arranged a ten-minute interview for each person. The location was set in the hotel rooms. Each couple would be asked the same questions, which would then be edited together as segments before commercial breaks.

Cheng Jianyu had just finished his shower when the editorial team arrived. He sat on the sofa, drying his hair with one hand. “Would you like some water?”

The editor smiled and shook her head, holding a small notebook with prompt words as she sat on the opposite sofa. “Can we begin?”

“Okay.”

The editor gave a hand signal, and the camera began to whir. She asked, “How did you two meet?”

Cheng Jianyu’s hand drying his hair paused. “Fate.”

“Uh, do you two ever argue? What was the most intense argument about?” The editor threw out a heavyweight question, looking at him expectantly.

Cheng Jianyu shook his head, succinct and clear: “We don’t argue.”

An argument requires two people to participate. One person arguing is just called venting.

The editor didn’t quite believe it, scribbling in her notebook. “What do you like about him?”

“Many things.”

“What do you like most?”

Cheng Jianyu gave a seemingly helpless smile and said neutrally, “I like his face.”

“I couldn’t tell you were such a face-con (visual-oriented).” The editor laughed. Cheng Jianyu’s profile was lean, his hair half-wet and half-dry, and his aura was clean and pure. It was hard to imagine such a person being a “visual dog.”

However… It was understandable. Jiang Yan’s looks indeed made people want to be visual dogs.

Cheng Jianyu didn’t take the bait. The editor spent the rest of the time asking questions about their daily interactions. Cheng Jianyu answered truthfully; his words were simple, providing neither too much nor too little information. The editorial team could tell that he and Jiang Yan had a very good relationship. He remembered exactly what Jiang Yan ate or didn’t eat and what he liked. Just as the rumors said, Cheng Jianyu loved Jiang Yan to the bone.

As the interview time concluded, the editor stood up, writing in her notebook while asking casually, “What kind of person do you think your boyfriend is?”

Cheng Jianyu raised his eyes, staring at her fixedly for a few seconds before looking down again. He continued drying his hair methodically, his voice steady. “Humble, gentle, and composed.”

“Ah?”

The editor was stunned, even wondering if Cheng Jianyu was being sarcastic. Jiang Yan might not be called arrogant, but he was definitely not humble. As for gentle and composed—those were entirely different paths from a man as flamboyant and unbridled as him.

The editor reacted quickly. “It seems Jiang Yan is a ‘warm man’ in private. I hope to see the side of him unknown to the public in the future.”

Cheng Jianyu’s expression remained unchanged. He slowly folded the towel with nimble hands, folding the white square cloth neatly and meticulously.

…

That evening, the production crew organized a farewell dinner for everyone—a charcoal barbecue. It was a lively, bustling scene as they sat on the restaurant terrace.

The crew brought out crates of chilled fruit wine. Kong Xuesong took two cans, handing one to Yan Rong. “I cut all my nails to play the strings. Help me pull this open.”

“What instrument do you play?” Chengcheng asked curiously.

Kong Xuesong sat beside Cheng Jianyu and said with a smile, “Classical guitar. I’ve been learning recently.”

Chengcheng bit into a meat skewer and said without thinking, “I remember Brother Yan plays guitar very well. I saw him playing and singing at his concert; it was super cool. You can ask him for advice.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Brother Yan is so mean to me.” Kong Xuesong smiled with mock anger, glancing at Jiang Yan.

Jiang Yan ignored him. Leaning loosely against his chair, he reached out, grabbed a Sprite from the table, opened it, and placed it in front of Cheng Jianyu. “Sprite or Coke?”

“I’ll have orange juice. Freshly squeezed, hot.” Cheng Jianyu wasn’t used to this sudden warmth.

Jiang Yan’s patience with Cheng Jianyu was growing by the day. If it were any other man sitting there, he would find it pretentious and troublesome—a grown man wanting freshly squeezed orange juice, and hot at that, like a young girl. But with Cheng Jianyu, this sense of affectation suddenly became reasonable. He even felt that Cheng Jianyu’s demands should be a bit more numerous.

He got up and went to the service counter, ordered a glass of orange juice, and picked up a round, bright yellow orange from the bar on his way back. He stepped his long legs over the chair and sat down, dropping the orange in front of Cheng Jianyu. “Supplement your Vitamin C.”

Cheng Jianyu picked up the orange and put it on his plate. “Thank you.”

“Thanking who?” Jiang Yan teased him intentionally.

Cheng Jianyu’s gaze remained on the table, his voice clear. “Thank you.”

Jiang Yan sensed his sudden coldness. In the past, when asked this kind of question, Cheng Jianyu would smile and answer “Thank you, darling” or a sweet “Thank you, gege.”

This diametrically opposite attitude made him feel slightly irritable.

Under the table, he spread his long legs, the tip of his snow-white sneaker hooking Cheng Jianyu’s calf, pulling it toward himself with ambiguous intent. Cheng Jianyu seemed not to feel it; his profile was calm, his expression composed.

Xiaonan and Chengcheng were playing a game of Werewolf side-by-side. Xiaonan was gesticulating excitedly. “Listen to me, I’m the Seer! You can’t go wrong voting for Number 3!”

“I’m not listening to you. You screw me over every time. I’ll vote for myself.” Chengcheng snorted, stood up, and sat in the chair opposite Cheng Jianyu.

Xiaonan was unhappy and moved his stool over. “Don’t go, I’m definitely right this time.”

Yan Rong smiled and sighed, his gaze drifting slowly toward Cheng Jianyu. “Jianyu, don’t you feel like being young is wonderful?”

“Yes.” Cheng Jianyu nodded, then shook his head. “Teacher Yan is also very young.”

Yan Rong hadn’t expected him to pick up the conversation. He said amiably, “Aren’t you also very young? Only in your twenties, the prime of your life. Why do you sound like you’re the same age as me?”

Cheng Jianyu looked at him, his lips curving into a gentle smile, with no intention of continuing the chat. Yan Rong’s heart skipped a beat from that smile, and he said involuntarily, “Some people become more decayed as they age, while others become more profound. The gifts time gives us are for us to choose; it just depends on how we choose.”

“You are right.”

Cheng Jianyu nodded in agreement. At some point, the second button of his shirt had come undone, revealing a clear, clean collarbone with a hint of a lingering red mark—fresh, vivid, and unmistakable. Yan Rong coughed and gentlemanly averted his gaze.

Yan Rong’s reaction didn’t escape Jiang Yan’s eyes. He glanced at Cheng Jianyu, reached out a hand, and briskly fastened the button for him, simultaneously casting a cold, warning glare at Yan Rong.

Cheng Jianyu had no reaction, remaining unruffled.

Jiang Yan took a sip of Coke, his arm resting casually on the table, the can squeezing until it deformed. Cheng Jianyu was playing it cool and expressionless with him, yet turning his head to exchange tender, flirtatious looks with Yan Rong—was Cheng Jianyu trying to rebel?

Could it be the same old trick, testing to see if he would get jealous? Endlessly repetitive, truly boring.

It was a pity Cheng Jianyu chose to be a screenwriter; with acting like this, he could win a seat in the acting world. He had already proven himself in front of the camera; what more did Cheng Jianyu want him to do?

Fine, he wouldn’t bicker. He’d give Cheng Jianyu a bit more face. After all, this was the person he had slept with for five years.

…

That night, A-Sheng was packing the luggage for the return trip. Cheng Jianyu had very few things—just a few pieces of clothing, neatly and efficiently packed into the suitcase to be sent to the plane by A-Sheng.

While Jiang Yan was out for his night run, Cheng Jianyu opened his laptop and created a brand new file. He wrote down point by point, clause by clause, everything in meticulous detail. It covered Jiang Yan’s habits and hobbies in life, work, entertainment, diet, and leisure, as well as the things Jiang Yan hated most.

He started another new file regarding the care of the dog, Druid—the brand of canned food Druid usually ate, the bath shampoo used, which pet hospital to go to, and the status of his vaccinations. Everything was written clearly.

He always finished what he started. Since he had decided to put an end to this relationship, he wanted a bit of a sense of ritual—to eat one last meal with Jiang Yan and part ways gracefully and magnanimously.

The next time they met, they would be strangers.

After finishing all this, he logged onto WeChat and chatted with Chen Kai, commissioning him to help rent an apartment. It should be closer to the studio—nothing luxurious, just simple and clean. His requirements for life had never been high.

A new life was right before his eyes. No matter how much someone loves the sea, they cannot commit suicide in it.

It was time to put a period on everything.

Jiang Yan returned half an hour earlier than usual. Miraculously, he didn’t go straight to shower. He walked slowly over to Cheng Jianyu, circling him from behind, resting both hands casually on the desk as he looked down at the top of Cheng Jianyu’s head. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Cheng Jianyu closed the thin laptop. Just as he was about to get up to go to sleep, Jiang Yan pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit back. He stroked Cheng Jianyu’s face and said softly, “Can you sew your shirt buttons a bit tighter?”

Cheng Jianyu was silent for a few seconds, gave an “Oh,” and raised his eyes to look at him. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Can you fall asleep this early?” Jiang Yan lowered his voice and leaned in close. Cheng Jianyu’s earlobes were delicate and clean; a small patch of fresh skin behind his ear turned pale yellow under the light, covered in tiny, soft golden fuzz that was quite cute. He blew a breath of hot air onto that patch of skin. The nearby neck instantly tensed with sensitivity. He laughed slowly. “Let’s do something.”

He intentionally gave the word “do” a heavy, ambiguous emphasis.

In a rare move, Cheng Jianyu ignored the flirting. He pushed Jiang Yan’s arm away, stood up, and walked toward the bedroom. Without a word, he lay down on the bed, wrapping himself tightly in the quilt, leaving only his cheek exposed to breathe.

Jiang Yan slowly narrowed his eyes. His gaze fixed on the rejecting silhouette on the bed for a few seconds, and his interest vanished instantly. Fine. He’d developed some spine. He wouldn’t coax him; he wanted to see how Cheng Jianyu intended to close the curtain on this act.