After I Started Dating the Scum Gong Substitute, the White Moonlight Returned - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Cheng Jianyu’s eye corners narrowed slightly, his light, fuzzy eyelashes forming a small arc that cast an orange shadow under his eyelids. It was impossible to tell if he was happy or angry, but the sight made Jiang Yan’s heart itch. Jiang Yan pressed his hand firmly against the flexible muscles of Cheng Jianyu’s waist through his clothing, a wave of dry-mouthed thirst rising in him. His voice dropped even lower, coaxing, “Cheng Jianyu, I’ll buy you a new car, don’t be angry anymore. Be a good boy.”

“Jiang Yan.”

Cheng Jianyu’s eyes narrowed further. He patted the hand resting on his waist, his voice devoid of emotion. “We have broken up. What you are doing now is sexual harassment.”

Jiang Yan had never coaxed anyone with such gentle words before; he didn’t expect Cheng Jianyu to be so ungrateful. His expression turned a few degrees colder, and he scoffed, “Sexual harassment? What part of your body haven’t I touched?”

Cheng Jianyu didn’t make a sound, staring at him steadily. His clear, bright pupils were like a small whirlpool that could drown a person. Jiang Yan felt a sense of unease. He leaned in to sniff the scent on Cheng Jianyu, suppressing his patience, and said, “If you don’t like the car, I’ll buy you a house. I’ll even buy you a plane if you want.”

Cheng Jianyu turned his face away, dodging the breath hitting his face, his lips pressed together stiffly. “No need.”

“What exactly do you want?” Jiang Yan took a deep breath, reining in his restless emotions. He lifted his hand to touch Cheng Jianyu’s cheek softly. “How about this: I’ll invest in the script you’re writing. I’ll hire the top producers, directors, and actors in the industry. Don’t be angry.”

He was showing enough sincerity. In the recent “winter” of the film and television market, hot investment money had retreated, and everyone in the industry was barely managing to protect themselves. Investors were seeking stability over risk; investing in a screenwriter who hadn’t produced a work in five years was like looking for a needle in the ocean. Investors’ money didn’t come from a strong wind; no one was willing to risk it on Cheng Jianyu’s script.

He was willing, because “a thousand gold coins cannot buy the beauty’s smile.” As long as Cheng Jianyu wasn’t angry and was with him properly like before, he would support him fully in terms of money, just treating it as throwing money into the water for fun.

Jiang Yan’s eyes deeply traced his clear, cold eyebrows and eyes, continuing to tempt him softly, “You don’t like Zhou Jueqing? I’ll let him play the villain in your script. You can vent however you like, okay?”

“I won’t let him act in my play.” Cheng Jianyu’s breathing hitched. The three words “Zhou Jueqing” made him reflexively disgusted. Regardless of what kind of relationship Jiang Yan and Zhou Jueqing had, in this lifetime, Zhou Jueqing would never be allowed to pollute any of his scripts.

“And you say you’re not jealous.” Jiang Yan found it funny in his heart, paused, and his tail-end tone turned a bit raspy. “Or, I’ll suspend my work and stay with you properly for half a year. As long as you speak up, I’ll satisfy you.”

Cheng Jianyu: “I do want one thing.”

Jiang Yan looked at him expectantly, asking quickly, “What is it?”

Cheng Jianyu stared into his eyes, his tone sincere and earnest. “Can you give ‘Druid’ (the dog) to me? I want it.”

“No.” Jiang Yan was both angry and humiliated, his jaw tightening. He had already lowered himself to this point, yet Cheng Jianyu actually chose a dog.

Cheng Jianyu’s breath hitched slightly, and he sighed in his heart. After breaking up with Jiang Yan, it would be difficult to see Druid again; it was truly a pity. The hand Jiang Yan had locked around his waist loosened, and he pushed him away, grabbing the handle of his luggage. “The moving company will come to move my books.”

Having finished, he walked out resolutely with long strides.

The geometric-lined chandelier on the vaulted ceiling was full of artistic beauty, its milky white light falling on Jiang Yan’s face, his bone structure and skin were superb—but at this moment, he looked gloomy and terrifying. Bursts of fury were contained within every breath he took, and he squeezed his fists tightly, the veins on his thin wrists protruding. It was a feeling of unprecedented frustration.

Did Cheng Jianyu really want to break up with him?

Compared to this frustrating question, what made him even more uncomfortable was Cheng Jianyu’s changed attitude, as if he were a different person. Cheng Jianyu had never spoken to him in such an icy tone before.

Cheng Jianyu was treating him with the same attitude he used for everyone else. This huge sense of contrast brought a feeling of strange loss of control. Did Cheng Jianyu really not like him anymore?

He could not be certain in his heart.

Ming Jian Studio successfully opened, signing a contract with Xitang Entertainment to tailor-make a script for Lin Zhao. Upon seeing Lin Zhao’s resume, An’an was incredulous, covering her face and shouting, “The ’00s generation is out mixing in the world, what are we old aunties supposed to do!”

Lin Zhao’s age looked even younger than his actual appearance; he was a real post-2000s kid. Cheng Jianyu was preparing the customized script for Xitang and took a moment to open his WeChat group. Lin Zhao, with his black hair, looked a bit gentle, like a handsome neighborhood younger brother.

“He hasn’t even grown his milk teeth yet, and he’s already entered this big dyeing vat of the entertainment industry,” Chen Kai sighed at length.

An’an laughed, glanced at Cheng Jianyu’s cold profile, and whispered, “Newborn calves are not afraid of tigers. He dared to ask for Brother Yu’s WeChat; he’s the first one in the past few years, right?”

“That’s true.” The two of them rarely reached such a consensus.

Chen Kai remembered something important, and looking at Cheng Jianyu, he asked tentatively, “Brother Yu, did you go see that house?”

“I saw it. I like it quite a bit.” Cheng Jianyu curled his lips slightly in pleasure.

Chen Kai and An’an looked at each other, speechless. Cheng Jianyu knew what they wanted to ask, and while typing the plot in his notebook, he said lightly, “I have no connection with Jiang Yan anymore.”

An’an didn’t know much about his relationship status and thought they were “friends with benefits,” sighing with regret, “He is my best friend’s idol. I wanted to help her get an autograph photo.”

Chen Kai knew a bit more, his expression strange, “Is it really over?”

“Hmm, there is no connection at all now.” Cheng Jianyu’s index finger paused on the laptop’s trackpad, tapping it lightly, his voice a little faint, “It’s over.”

Chen Kai couldn’t help but laugh out loud. What kind of heaven-sent good news was this? He had long been annoyed by Jiang Yan’s arrogant and bossy attitude. What kind of person was Cheng Jianyu? His appearance, character, and ability were all the absolute best—the kind of person who could only be viewed from afar and not be profaned. Following Jiang Yan, he was being trampled on every day, whether it was queuing to buy sneakers or being used like a housekeeper. Treating a limited-edition top-spec Porsche like a budget mini-van was not something a person would do.

Deep down, he felt guilty toward Cheng Jianyu. If it weren’t for his mistake back then, it wouldn’t have led to Cheng Jianyu working as a “ghostwriter” for Bei Xinhong. He had always hoped for Cheng Jianyu to live well, and his conscience would feel better, too. Now, it was good; Cheng Jianyu was finally liberated.

“Happy day! An’an, tell your best friend to keep her eyes open when looking at men. Don’t just look at the face; look at the character.” When people encounter good news, they feel refreshed; Chen Kai beamed with joy.

An’an realized what he meant and said seriously, “I think what you said is right. Brother Yu is suitable for a kind of gentle, scholarly man—someone with a bookish air, only then would he have common language with Brother Yu.”

“Since when did you two get along so well?” Cheng Jianyu asked casually while typing.

With a sudden thunderclap, the two people who had just hit it off began to bicker again.

Cheng Jianyu took some time to pack and organize his new home. Chen Kai was lucky to find such a high-value two-bedroom apartment in this area, with an elegant environment and bright lighting. The master bedroom was for resting, and the second bedroom had its bed and cabinet removed, replaced by a desk to serve as a study.

He wouldn’t be living here for long. During his five years as a ghostwriter, he didn’t indulge in food, clothes, or any bad habits. He had saved a sum of money, and after finishing this project for Xitang, plus the money he had on hand, it would be enough to buy a piece of real estate.

The widely circulated saying goes, “People who love to laugh don’t have bad luck.” Perhaps because he often wore a cold face, his luck had been terrible since birth. Living until now, he didn’t know his father or mother’s name or what they looked like. When teachers randomly picked student numbers in class, he was picked every single time. He never won when entering lottery draws. When he grew up, he met someone he loved—two hearts beating as one—yet it couldn’t defeat the ruthless gears of fate.

His career was also difficult to speak of; it could be described as nothing going his way and his ambitions being thwarted.

Cheng Jianyu took a photo from the interlayer of his suitcase, gently placed it into a photo frame, and set it in the most cherished spot on the bedside table.

The photo showed undulating mountain ranges and a sky full of stars in the deep blue-black night. He was sitting cross-legged at ease in front of a tent, his face clearer and more vibrant. His thin shoulders were draped in a light grey suit jacket; the soft, exquisite wool fabric was simple and gentlemanly, and the well-tailored size, being broader than his own shoulders, gave him a lazy and relaxed look.

He was looking off to the side, his head turned casually toward the camera position, with the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

At the moment this photo was taken, the man suddenly looked up at him from the camera, his eyes lustrous and gentle, “Little one, you’re only in the third year of high school; why would you say something like wanting to marry me?”

After saying this, he raised his hand to slowly unbutton the first button of his shirt. The vintage-style cufflinks were elegant, and the man seemed to radiate a gentle, handsome light. “I am ten years older than you, with far more social and life experience than you. I could use a few adult hypocritical ‘tricks’ to make you dizzy with admiration and easily pluck you, this green fruit, and I could even walk out of this relationship unscathed, leaving you with wounds that will never heal in this lifetime. But I cannot do that, because it is immoral.”

“I tell you this because I hope that if you encounter an adult attempting to ‘seduce’ you, you will immediately recognize clearly that he is a bastard.”

Cheng Jianyu didn’t remember what he said in response; he only remembered the man’s gentle, elegant voice flowing in the fresh, silent air on the mountaintop. “You don’t need to feel ashamed. This is a ten-year-old boy’s curiosity about the adult world, a respect for knowledge, and a longing for beautiful human emotions but it is not love.”

“I appreciate your frankness. If, when you reach twenty-two, you still have the same thoughts as today, why shouldn’t we try it?”

“Little one, dating me will be very interesting.” The man’s tail-end tone rose, holding an unpredictable smile.

Back then, after hearing those words, he felt as if a basin of cold water had been poured over him and he remained unhappy for a long time. It wasn’t until years later that he realized the meaning hidden behind those words: “Why shouldn’t we try it.”