After I Started Dating the Scum Gong Substitute, the White Moonlight Returned - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Cheng Jianyu rested for a few seconds, his thoughts gradually focusing on Jiang Yan’s face, silent and noiseless.

“What were you thinking just now?” Jiang Yan pinched his jaw, as dominant as ever.

Since the first time he slept with Cheng Jianyu, Cheng Jianyu was no longer just Cheng Jianyu, but Jiang Yan’s possession. Every inch of his skin, every expression, belonged to him—including every thought in Cheng Jianyu’s head.

Cheng Jianyu looked at the expression on his face. The corners of his mouth hooked slightly, and the tiny dimple on his left cheek appeared shallowly as he spoke the truth: “I was thinking about what happened just now.”

Jiang Yan chuckled. Cheng Jianyu was truly a lot of trouble; if he was jealous, he should just say it clearly. Why bother sulking? But then… being jealous once in a while could be considered a form of flirtation. He patted his face. “Do you want a formal status?”

Cheng Jianyu stared at him for a few seconds. The moist tip of his tongue hooked against Jiang Yan’s thumb once, like a soft feather brushing past. “My chin hurts.”

Jiang Yan was unmoved. When Cheng Jianyu encountered a question he didn’t want to answer, he would only act cute, attempting to resolve the conflict through physical means. Jiang Yan didn’t buy it; he applied a bit of force with his hand. “Answer the question.”

Cheng Jianyu lowered his eyes, looking submissive and obedient. “I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

Jiang Yan was marginally satisfied. Whether or not to give Cheng Jianyu a “formal status” was a matter that depended on a momentary thought. He didn’t like exposing his private life in front of a camera, but Cheng Jianyu had followed him for several years without a clear title, being obedient, sensible, and understanding the big picture without ever causing trouble. It was time to give Cheng Jianyu a legitimate identity.

He rested one hand on the leather steering wheel, looking at the road ahead. The air conditioner blew cold air. The back of the finger Cheng Jianyu had just licked felt chilly; he suddenly recalled that fleeting, tender sensation—like an unknown, soft vine climbing up his arm from that small patch of skin.

Jiang Yan pulled out a tissue, wiped the back of his finger impatiently, and tossed it into the trash can.

…

The Xinfu District on the weekend was crowded with heavy traffic. The street filled with newly opened “internet-famous” shops was a riot of color, bustling with the deafening clamor of voices and people coming and going.

The Aston Martin was parked in the underground garage of the commercial street. Jiang Yan didn’t know much about Cheng Jianyu’s work; he only knew he was a screenwriter. He had never heard of any works by him and considered him an obscure, low-tier screenwriter.

As an industry insider, Jiang Yan had long heard that in China’s current film and television industry, the survival situation for screenwriters was grim.

To make a successful commercial film, investors first considered inviting a famous director, adding stars with fan appeal. Compared to the status of the former two, a screenwriter’s drawing power was negligible; they had almost no say in the matter. It was a thankless profession.

Jiang Yan had suggested that Cheng Jianyu resign. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to support him; wouldn’t it be better to stay at home obediently like a canary? On this point, the usually submissive Cheng Jianyu had fiercely objected. They had been in a cold war for half a month over it, which finally ended with Cheng Jianyu wearing something light, crawling onto his bed at midnight, and sincerely apologizing with his body.

Since then, Jiang Yan was too lazy to interfere in his business. He just treated it as Cheng Jianyu having a hobby so he wouldn’t cling to him all day.

“I’m getting out.” Cheng Jianyu unfastened his seatbelt. Just as he was about to push open the passenger door, a warm and powerful arm hooked around his neck, pulling his body back by force. Jiang Yan’s cool lips lightly touched his smooth earlobe. Cheng Jianyu instinctively turned his head, and in the next second, his lips were completely blocked.

Jiang Yan tasted him inside and out, releasing him only when he felt partially satisfied. Cheng Jianyu’s breathing was rapid and he was gasping for air. The crimson corners of his mouth looked like a bruised cherry. He looked at Jiang Yan with moist eyes and asked cautiously: “Can I get out of the car now?”

Jiang Yan let out a light laugh, twirled the reddened earlobe, and said in a low voice: “If you don’t get out now, I’ll do you right here.”

Cheng Jianyu immediately pushed the door open and slipped away like a nimble cat. The car retained the faint scent of sweet orange perfume from his body—it was like the fragrance that bursts forth when a knife cuts open a fresh orange: cool, simple, gentle, and subtle. The perfume was like the person—possessing a refined spirit and bone.

Jiang Yan took a sniff and instantly regretted letting Cheng Jianyu go.

He opened the car window. The wind carried away the enticing scent of the perfume and also dissipated his burning restlessness. He casually picked up his phone from under the windshield and pulled up a text message, which recorded the address of a nearby residential area.

…

A “flat-floor” luxury apartment in the Xinfu District. The view was expansive; pushing open the window, one could see the endless Yangtze River. The living conditions were convenient. Back then, Jiang Yan’s father had conveniently helped the developer solve a small problem abroad, and this apartment was a birthday gift from the developer to Jiang Yan’s sister, Jiang Shan.

Usually, it sat empty gathering dust. Over the past few days, domestic workers had been working overtime to clean it up, removing dirt and bringing in the new until it was spotlessly clean.

Two handsome young men in suits were busy, carrying large and small suitcases, walking into the room while panting.

Jiang Yan and Jiang Shan were biological siblings, but their relationship wasn’t particularly good. Both had been proud and arrogant since childhood, pampered and indulged; they would compete to be first even over small things like who sat down to eat first. After all these years, the fact that they hadn’t become enemies was thanks to the Jiang family’s vast wealth and power, which could withstand their friction.

“Jiang Yan, call Mom more often when you have time; she talks about you all day.” Jiang Shan leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, a slender lady’s cigarette held between her fingers. Her fingernails were painted an elegant deep red. Her long hair was pinned back in a bun, her collar was slightly low, and an exquisite diamond necklace hung from her collarbone—bright and beautiful, with a polished temperament.

Jiang Yan sat on a black suitcase, looking up from his phone to give her a cold, indifferent squint, not responding.

Accustomed to this, Jiang Shan gestured for a young man to open a suitcase and took out an exquisitely packaged bag. “A birthday gift I bought for Jianyu in Italy. Help me bring it to him.”

Jiang Yan’s finger, resting on the phone screen, paused. He suddenly looked up. “Birthday gift?”

Jiang Shan stubbed out her cigarette and displayed the fountain pen made of pure gold inside the gift box. “Jianyu is a screenwriter. I thought the symbolism of this gold pen was very suitable for him.”

Jiang Yan gave an absentminded “mm.” Jiang Shan watched him for a few seconds. After all, they had grown up in the same basket and knew each other inside out. She frowned, looking him up and down. “You didn’t forget again, did you?”

Jiang Yan didn’t answer; he put his phone in his pocket. Jiang Shan raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. “Are you two really in a relationship?”

“What’s the date?” Jiang Yan asked straight to the point.

Jiang Shan felt it was hard to describe. “The twelfth.”

Jiang Yan lowered his head to calculate the time. The day before he threw away the cake. It seemed the cake had indeed been bought by Cheng Jianyu himself. No wonder Cheng Jianyu had been in such a low mood then.

But why didn’t Cheng Jianyu say anything? He was so busy with work; how could he have time to remember these small things? If Cheng Jianyu had said so, he wouldn’t have gone out that night to compose music for Zhou Jueqing. In the final analysis, it was because Cheng Jianyu remained silent, like a gourd without a mouth.

Jiang Shan pinched the bridge of her nose and lit another cigarette. “I really don’t know what to say to you. If you don’t want to be in the relationship, then break up quickly. Don’t waste his time.”

Jiang Yan stood up, hands in his pockets, his cold gaze warning her: “Don’t ever mention the words ‘break up’ in front of me again.”

“Suit yourself.” Jiang Shan was intimidated by his fierce streak—like a wolf that wouldn’t let go once it bit a piece of meat. Cheng Jianyu was a good boy; it was a pity he had fallen into the hands of her “demon-king” brother.

She took a deep breath of smoke and turned her back to look at the river view outside the balcony. “Aside from delivering Jianyu’s gift, I asked you over for another piece of good news.”

“Little Uncle is coming back.”

the sharp expression on Jiang Yan’s face gradually faded, replaced by a kind of youthful high spirit and vivid expectation. He rarely curved the corners of his mouth in a good mood. “When is Little Uncle coming back?”

“He’ll be back as soon as his business abroad is settled.”

Little Uncle Wen Yueming was the balance point between Jiang Yan and Jiang Shan—graceful, refined, and a perfect gentleman. No matter how they argued when they were little, once Wen Yueming stepped in, the two little nephews would turn into his little fans, following his every instruction and treating his words as gospel.

If it hadn’t been for an accident, this would have been a beautiful ending to the story.

…

Cheng Jianyu had rented a suite of office rooms. The lighting was transparent, the location was good, and the price was very reasonable for this area. He gave the keys to Chen Kai, commissioning him to help find a renovation company to give it a proper overhaul.

The streets in the evening were hopelessly congested. The place Cheng Jianyu had to return to was in the suburbs; few drivers were willing to take a one-way trip. After searching for half an hour, he finally found a car willing to take the order.

By the time he returned home, it was already nine o’clock at night. The surroundings were pitch black and quiet. As soon as Cheng Jianyu got out of the car, A-Sheng, who was standing at the door, waved happily.

He was Jiang Yan’s lifestyle assistant. They had spoken a few times, but weren’t very familiar.

Cheng Jianyu frowned. The lights in the house were off; Jiang Yan had not returned. “What’s wrong?”

“Sister-in-law, I’ve been waiting here for you for a long time. I couldn’t get through when I called you.” A-Sheng said with a smile.

“The battery died.”

“Sister-in-law, happy birthday to you.” A-Sheng opened the car door next to him and lifted out several boxes of exquisitely packaged takeout.

“Brother Jiang has some business; he’ll be back in a while.”

Cheng Jianyu’s eyes narrowed slightly. He remained neither salty nor sweet as he twisted open the door. “Come in.”

A-Sheng looked very honest, but anyone hired by Brother Chao as Jiang Yan’s assistant was a “person-refined-within-person” (extremely shrewd). He spoke while watching the wind to steer the boat, catering to and flattering his audience.

“Sister-in-law, Brother Jiang is so busy, yet he didn’t forget your birthday. He really keeps you in his heart.”

“Sister-in-law, don’t blame me for being talkative. Privately, we all think you and Brother Jiang are a perfect match—a match made in heaven. Everyone says you are a model couple.”

“Don’t take those messages on the internet seriously; most of them are just news trying to leech off popularity. We can all see that Brother Jiang only has you in his heart. But you know how things are in the circle, sometimes…”

Halfway through his speech, A-Sheng turned back. Cheng Jianyu was pouring water at the water dispenser, eyes slightly lowered. The outline of his profile was clear, cool and untainted by dust, looking as if he were miles away.

To use an elegant word, his temperament was “transcendent.” Telling him these entertainment industry scandals would only dirty his ears.

A-Sheng ceased his fire and turned the topic around. “Sister-in-law, this seafood is from the best hotel in Shanghai. It was flown in this afternoon. Brother Jiang specifically had me order it for you. You’re in for a treat.”

Cheng Jianyu held the glass and placed it on the coffee table. “Have some water.” Having said that, he turned and went upstairs without looking back.

He turned on the bedroom light, took the first aid kit from the storage cabinet, and pulled out a box of Chlorpheniramine—it could relieve the symptoms of a seafood allergy. Quietly, he took a few pills with water.

Cheng Jianyu picked up his phone. Just as he was about to go downstairs, the phone in his palm vibrated.

A message from an unknown number:

[Sister-in-law, happy birthday to you!]

Cheng Jianyu frowned slightly. His gaze lingered on the first three words for a few seconds. He swiped his finger and deleted the message.