After I Started Dating the Scum Gong Substitute, the White Moonlight Returned - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

After the contract with Xitang Entertainment was finalized, Guo Jian sent over a piece of calligraphy. He said proudly that it was personally written by the boss of Xitang, Huo Yanqing, with two lines of large characters: “People of the time do not recognize the cloud-reaching tree; they only acknowledge its height when it finally reaches the clouds.”

The handwriting was like copper cymbals and iron plates strong, bold, and precipitous executed in one continuous breath from start to finish. It was hard to believe such unrestrained calligraphy came from a woman’s hand.

Cheng Jianyu was very grateful for Huo Yanqing’s encouragement and asked Guo Jian to convey his thanks. He also admired this female boss of Xitang Entertainment. In the fierce battlefield of the media and entertainment industry, through the ups and downs of the business sea, she had carved out a bloody path in the capital-dominated world of warring states with her keen commercial instinct, becoming China’s unique dream factory for star-making. With several of the hottest rising stars currently in her grasp, regardless of the rumors in the circle, she was undoubtedly successful.

However, he didn’t quite believe that Huo Yanqing had seen his talent. But he had nothing of value and nothing to be exploited, so conversely, he didn’t worry about any ulterior motives Huo Yanqing might have.

The situation for crime-suspense dramas in the country was subtle. Unlike romance and workplace dramas, which could guarantee returns and steady profits, suspense dramas often saw polarized results after airing: either they would become so popular that everyone knew them and the streets would empty [to watch], or they would flop silently from beginning to end without anyone knowing they existed.

Cheng Jianyu pondered for several days and set the genre as a “light comedy” to expand the younger audience demographic. After all, life pressure was high nowadays; people watched dramas to pass the time, and few were willing to watch serious, dull, orthodox deduction stories.

“You can even write comedy?” Lin Zhao, who had come to supervise the work, stood behind him with his arms folded, looking incredulous.

Cheng Jianyu stared at the computer, his fingers, slender as bamboo, tapping on the keyboard as he absentmindedly brushed him off, “I can.”

“You don’t look like someone with a sense of humor.” Lin Zhao touched his chin.

“You don’t look like someone who is noisy, either.”

Lin Zhao lowered his head and laughed, turning his head to look at him. Cheng Jianyu’s mouth was slightly curled upward, looking more easygoing than last time. “You’re in a good mood today?”

“Quite good.” Splitting up with Jiang Yan had gone as smoothly as Cheng Jianyu had expected. The relationship was shallow and the affection was thin; each took what they needed, each found what they sought; this was the best ending.

Lin Zhao supported himself on the edge of the desk with one hand and sat on top of it, one long leg bracing against the floor. “I’ve had a nickname since I was a child. Want to guess what it is?”

Cheng Jianyu had no interest in chatting; he maintained that silence was golden.

“They call me ‘Lin VIP [Poodle]’.”

Lin Zhao saw Cheng Jianyu give a distracted laugh, then continued, “I was the ‘school grass’ [most handsome student] in school and had some fame. On the day of the school anniversary, I got drunk, hugged a poodle, rushed onto the stage, and in front of two thousand people, told everyone it was my dad, tearfully singing ‘Father’ to it. That night, I became a hit on everyone’s social media feeds. If you’ve seen that video, the person whose face was blurred with a husky mask is me.”

“Did your dad not beat you?” Cheng Jianyu asked calmly.

“My dad said I sang quite well and that I could develop in the direction of singing in the future.”

Cheng Jianyu lowered his head and chuckled lightly, “You and your dad have a good relationship.”

“After all, I’m his biological son.” Listening to the laughter in his voice, Lin Zhao’s lips curved upward.

Outside the glass curtain wall, An’an held her camera and took a photo with a “click,” sighing at Lin Zhao’s ability to make Cheng Jianyu laugh. She conveniently posted on her secondary social media account: “Did Brother Yu smile at his little peach blossom today? He did.”

It was already late when Jiang Yan returned home. After parking the car steadily in the underground garage and taking the elevator up, he found the villa door ajar. Warm orange light spilled from the gap, and the heart-pleasing aroma of food wafted into his nose. His heart skipped a beat, and a genuine smile appeared. He tucked the car key he had been gripping into his windbreaker pocket, maintaining an indifferent, nonchalant expression as he walked in at a leisurely pace.

In the kitchen, Auntie Tang was busy. Hearing footsteps, she turned back, “Young Master is back?”

Jiang Yan knitted his brows, looking displeased. He didn’t speak for a long while before giving a cold “Mm.”

Auntie Tang couldn’t tell why he was in a bad mood and asked cautiously, “Young Master, the meal is ready. Should I wait for Mr. Cheng to come back before serving, or should I serve it now?”

“No need to wait for him.” Jiang Yan took off his jacket, tossed it onto the sofa, slumped onto a dining chair, and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The soup stewing in the pot bubbled away. The domestic atmosphere was thick. With his eyes closed, he could recall the way Cheng Jianyu looked wearing an apron: the thin straps loosely binding his slender waist, Cheng Jianyu bending over to scoop up the soup and blow on it to cool it down, then tasting it gently that gentle and tranquil appearance.

To surprise him, he would often hug Cheng Jianyu from behind, kissing the light brown mole behind his neck, and doing whatever he wanted on the kitchen counter. During the tremors, Cheng Jianyu, to steady himself, would affectionately hook his neck and beg him to be lighter, his demeanor sexy and beautiful.

These scenes were engraved in his mind, one by one, with incredible clarity.

“Young Master, do you still want the food in the refrigerator?”

Auntie Tang carried two freshness-keeping bowls over, smiling, “It was written by Mr. Cheng; it’s the dishes Young Master likes.”

Jiang Yan was stunned. Auntie Tang placed the bowls on the table. The fresh color of the vegetables had faded, and a layer of oil had congealed on top. Expired food was unappetizing to anyone, looking exactly like leftovers.

His chest went numb for a brief moment, like a light electric shock. He remembered that night: Cheng Jianyu had painstakingly cooked a table full of dishes he liked, waiting for him, but he had returned too late, and all the food had been handed over to the trash can.

“Mm, I want them. Put them in the fridge.” He tugged at the neckline of his hoodie, liberating his parched breathing.

Auntie Tang went back to put them in the fridge. As she was putting them away, she let out an exclamation of surprise, “Oh my!”

“Whoever sent this food was so careless! Why did they send swimming crabs?” She complained to herself.

“I’ve told them before that Mr. Cheng is allergic to seafood! How can they be so careless? Do they even want to keep their jobs?”

“Young Master.” Auntie Tang turned toward Jiang Yan, reporting her grievance indignantly. “You must punish them! Seafood allergies can kill people! How could they be so careless? If this were made into crab paste and Mr. Cheng accidentally ate it, and something happened, who would be able to bear the responsibility!”

She waited for Jiang Yan to speak up and handle the matter properly. To her surprise, her employer was leaning on the chair, staring blankly without blinking. The arc of his jawline was like a string being gradually pulled taut, and Adam’s apple rolled violently under his thin skin, as if he were suppressing something.

“Young Master?”

Jiang Yan stood up abruptly and strode out the door. The night air was cool as water, blowing cold through his whole body. The heart that had just been stirred felt like it was being bound by a harsh chain, and breathing became even more difficult.

The first time Cheng Jianyu had a seafood allergy, he was by his side. A layer of pink, itchy bumps had risen on his fair neck and body. After applying the damp medicine, he had snuggled into his arms, pitifully telling him he was itchy. At the time, he had felt both amused and annoyed, and he had told the home chef that seafood must never appear on the dining table again.

But…

He tilted his head back and took a deep breath. His hand tucked into his pocket was trembling slightly. Why didn’t Cheng Jianyu say anything?

The next second, he said it. Can you remember it? he asked himself coldly in his heart.

Is there still a chance for things to turn around?

If he can change this point, remember Cheng Jianyu’s birthday, remember his seafood allergy will Cheng Jianyu change his mind?

Jiang Yan steadied himself. The pressure on his chest eased; his empty heart felt full and complete. He took a step back, relaxed his tensed muscles, and leaned loosely against the wall. He had finally found the reason for the breakup.

Now he could prescribe the right medicine.

The phone in his trouser pocket vibrated slightly. He came back to his senses, reached out to pull it out, and frowned as he opened a WeChat message from Jiang Shan.

[My assistant sent me a message: the flight is tomorrow afternoon. Let’s go to the airport together to pick him up.]

[Bring Jianyu along, let’s eat a meal together.]

[I forgot to ask if Little Uncle booked a hotel. It’s peak travel season recently, and hotels in Shanghai are hard to book.]

Jiang Yan’s low spirits warmed up, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. Little Uncle’s smiling demeanor and conversation were still fresh in his memory. He was gentle, elegant, and accommodating better than Jiang Yan himself at handling emotional issues. He could ask Little Uncle about his situation with Cheng Jianyu.

He typed a line with one hand, “Cheng Jianyu has things to do. Little Uncle doesn’t need to book a hotel; he’s staying at my place. I have things to discuss with him.”