Can't Hide My Love for You - Chapter 14

Chi Yi’s Cantonese had successfully triggered Cheng Yixin’s fear of vocal practice, causing her brows to furrow instinctively.

“Did I stay on the phone for too long?” Chi Yi asked, assuming she was growing impatient from waiting.

“No.” Cheng Yixin shook her head and asked, “Was that Cantonese you were speaking just now?”

Chi Yi nodded. “My father is Cantonese, so I grew up speaking it.”

“Must be nice,” Cheng Yixin sighed. Her dejected look piqued Chi Yi’s curiosity.

“Do you want to learn?”

“It’s not a matter of whether I want to or not…” Cheng Yixin proceeded to explain her predicament: she had to perform a Cantonese song on an upcoming show, yet she still hadn’t mastered it despite the deadline fast approaching.

Chi Yi was stunned for a moment before letting out a small, amused laugh. “Which song is it?”

“‘Zhong Wu Yan’—it’s quite an old one. Have you heard it?”

“I have. It shouldn’t be too difficult to sing.” Chi Yi paused, looking as though she wanted to say something more but hesitated.

“I think it’s incredibly hard. My vocal coach literally walks the other way whenever they see me now.”

“Do you have a specialized teacher for it?”

“Yes.”

Chi Yi gave a noncommittal “Oh” and dropped the subject. Cheng Yixin’s slow social reflexes failed to pick up on the hidden meaning behind Chi Yi’s hesitation.

Thinking about the classes scheduled for the next day, Cheng Yixin’s face clouded over with worry. “I have class again tomorrow. They’re forcing me to sing something I’m not good at. What a headache.”

“If you really don’t like it, don’t sing it. Just switch to a song you excel at,” Chi Yi comforted her.

“I can’t.” Cheng Yixin felt stifled. “The production team arranged it. They said the ‘stage effect’ would be great, and my manager agrees. It’s a classic case of being driven like a duck onto a perch—forced into something I’m not ready for.”

“But if you’re forcing yourself to sing a song you have no interest in, the final performance won’t be good anyway. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? It’s better to choose what you’re good at. Even if it lacks ‘novelty,’ at least you can deliver the best possible performance.”

Chi Yi continued, “Look at those legendary singers; they have signature songs they’ve performed for decades, and the audience never gets bored.”

“You’re right!” Convinced by Chi Yi’s logic, Cheng Yixin pumped her fist. “I’m going to go in and fight them on this tomorrow!”

Before heading home, Chi Yi offered to walk her back, but Cheng Yixin firmly declined once they reached the courtyard pond.

“Alright, stop right here!” Cheng Yixin made a ‘stop’ gesture. “It’s only a few steps back to my place. Go back inside!”

“Okay…” Chi Yi stopped. Bathed in the moonlight, she watched Cheng Yixin walk toward the exit.

As Cheng Yixin passed through the courtyard gate, she suddenly paused and, as if possessed, glanced back.

Chi Yi was still standing there, quietly watching her. Her expression was soft, her gaze earnest and focused.

Cheng Yixin waved at her with her back turned and hurried toward the opposite house. Perhaps because she knew Chi Yi was watching, her gait felt a little stiff and unnatural.

Once home, Cheng Yixin sat on her sofa and pulled out her phone. Her finger hovered over the wallpaper for a moment before she opened her Notes app.

The list of “Reasons Why We Aren’t Compatible” was still glaringly present, with her recent resolution to break up sitting at the very bottom.

She stared at the screen for a full minute. Then, her focus sharpened, and she pressed the delete key.

She watched the words “Break Up” vanish, followed by the list of reasons, until the note was blank once again.

After a moment’s thought, she began to type:

【Chi Yi, 25 years old. Father is Cantonese.】

After writing it, she realized with a start just how little she knew about Chi Yi. Meanwhile, the other woman seemed to know her preferences perfectly. It felt incredibly unfair.

Thus, “Teacher Cheng” opened her browser and secretly typed the name “Chi Yi” into the search bar.

The first result was a Weibo link. Without even clicking it, she could see the follower count was only a few thousand. The next result was an encyclopedia entry.

Without hesitation, Cheng Yixin clicked the encyclopedia link. In the entertainment industry, if you want to quickly understand someone’s background, that’s the first place you look.

However, compared to Cheng Yixin’s own colorful, seemingly endless profile, “President Chi’s” personal information was sparse.

Aside from her name, gender, and age, there was only her university, her professional titles, and a list of honors.

Chairman of Yixin Trade Group.

President of Yixin Charity Foundation.

Top Ten Outstanding Young Entrepreneurs.

Her biography mentioned that she founded Yixin Trade during university. The “Yixin Supermarkets” had quickly captured the market due to high-quality service and strict quality control. Three years ago, she founded a charity foundation, donating 5 million RMB during a specific crisis and dedicating a portion of the supermarket’s annual profits to supporting students in impoverished mountain regions. Last year, she received the Outstanding Young Entrepreneur award.

There wasn’t much else online about Chi Yi personally; most results centered on her companies.

Netizens praised the supermarkets for their “human-centric service,” while the foundation was mostly mentioned in dry media reports. Yixin Foundation wasn’t as well-known as the older, established ones; it had been doing charity work quietly for years, and most people didn’t even know it existed. Its Weibo following, like its owner’s, was only in the thousands.

Under the donation-related posts, there were never more than a hundred comments.

She clicked on a media report about a donation. Half of the 32 comments were from users with default avatars, questioning whether the donation was just a “publicity stunt.”

However, because so few people followed the account, these comments failed to stir up any real trouble.

Cheng Yixin found this pattern strangely familiar. In the entertainment industry, it wasn’t uncommon for management teams to hire “water armies” (fake commenters) to smear others. This looked exactly like that.

Yet, facing these doubts, the Yixin Foundation never responded or cared, continuing their charity work in silence for years.

As for Chi Yi’s family background, the internet was silent.

Cheng Yixin closed the note. I’ll fill the rest in slowly later, she thought.

Early the next morning, Li Wenjing arrived with the team. There was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a shopping mall that morning. Usually, Cheng Yixin didn’t participate in such events, but the host had a connection with Fang Yuhan, so she had been talked into it.

The pay was generous, but the downside was the distance—it was at least a two-hour drive. That was why Li Wenjing was knocking on Cheng Yixin’s door at 7:00 AM.

Despite “Teacher Cheng” lingering in bed, they managed to get ready by 8:00 AM.

“The event starts at 10:30. If there’s no traffic, we should arrive early,” Li Wenjing said.

Cheng Yixin hummed in response. Just as she was lifting her skirt to board the van, she heard footsteps and turned to see Chi Yi jogging toward them.

Dressed in tight-fitting sportswear, Chi Yi looked slender and capable. She was clearly on her morning run.

Cheng Yixin paused, pulling her foot back from the van to wait for her.

Chi Yi took off her headphones. Her breathing was steady as she asked, “Heading out so early?”

“Yes, I have a store opening to attend.”

Li Wenjing looked Chi Yi over and, recognizing her, immediately flashed a professional smile. “President Chi? You live here too?”

“I do. Right across the way, actually,” Chi Yi replied, looking at the manager and accurately addressing her: “Sister Wenjing.”

Li Wenjing was slightly surprised. No one dislikes being remembered by name during a first meeting—especially compared to Lu Qing’s usual high-and-mighty attitude. Her opinion of Chi Yi rose instantly.

“What a coincidence! You should invite Yixin for a run sometime. This girl will lie down whenever she can avoid sitting.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad!”

The brief encounter reminded Cheng Yixin of her resolution from the night before. After a few more pleasantries, she boarded the van.

Just as she was psyching herself up to speak, Li Wenjing beat her to it.

“After the ribbon-cutting this morning, you have an ad shoot for that clothing brand. During the two-hour break in between, I’ve scheduled your vocal lesson. Practice that song.”

“Ugh—” Cheng Yixin’s face fell. “Can I please not sing that song?”

“What are you saying? It’s a beautiful song! I used to have it on loop when I was in school!”

“It’s not that the song is bad. It’s that I don’t speak Cantonese. Learning a few lines last minute will result in a terrible performance. I’d rather just sing one of the pop songs I actually know.”

“Forget it, those KTV hits of yours are trash,” Li Wenjing said dismissively. “I don’t think you ‘can’t’ learn it; I think your heart isn’t in it. Tell you what—we’ll add more lessons. We’ll clear your evenings to make up for it.”

“No!! You can’t exploit my rest time!” Cheng Yixin protested loudly.

Her shouting made Li Wenjing’s head throb. Luckily, there were no outsiders in the van.

She rubbed her temples and suddenly remembered the woman they had just seen. “Hey, doesn’t Chi Yi speak Cantonese?”

“How did you know?” Cheng Yixin asked instinctively.

“She’s a businesswoman. It’s normal to speak it when dealing with clients from Hong Kong or Macau.” Li Wenjing slapped her thigh. “Perfect! Let Chi Yi teach you in the evenings!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cheng Yixin hesitated. “She has her own life. It’s not right to trouble her.”

“Then I’ll just arrange for the vocal coach to give you extra lessons.”