Can't Hide My Love for You - Chapter 83

Chi Yi only stayed in Zhenzhou for a brief night; she had work to attend to and had to return to Jingning the next day.

The “Do Not Disturb” sign had been hung on the hotel room door the previous night, and the two slept until dawn. Chi Yi had to catch a 9:00 AM high-speed train, so she was up before 8:00 AM. Even though Cheng Yixin was exhausted and hadn’t quite opened her eyes, she woke up too, despite having the morning off.

“Why don’t you just stay in bed?” Chi Yi, who was currently changing clothes, looked at Cheng Yixin’s drowsy state with a touch of pity.

“No,” Cheng Yixin said. “I said I’d see you off, so I’m seeing you off.”

After washing up, Cheng Yixin smoothed her hair and sat on the edge of the bed. She watched Chi Yi swap her pajamas for a white shirt, pulling her hair out from the collar.

“Chi Yi.” She beckoned with her finger. “Come here.”

Chi Yi took two steps toward her. Cheng Yixin reached out, grabbed the open hem of the shirt, and began fastening the buttons one by one from bottom to top. Since she didn’t want to raise her arms too high, Chi Yi leaned down to accommodate her, making it easier to reach the top button.

As her gaze drifted upward, Cheng Yixin noticed a faint black mole on Chi Yi’s neck, partially hidden between strands of hair. After fastening the last button, she raised a hand, her middle finger gently brushing through Chi Yi’s hair to tuck it behind her neck, fully revealing the mole.

Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against the skin of Chi Yi’s neck, causing the other woman to shiver slightly—an uncontrollable bodily reaction.

Chi Yi’s breath hitched. When she met Cheng Yixin’s gaze, she saw a clear flirtatiousness in her eyes, reminiscent of a vixen from a novel, intentionally and gradually seducing her.

The mattress dipped slightly as Chi Yi propped her palms on the soft bed, leaning down to kiss Cheng Yixin’s lips. They lingered, their lips grinding softly against each other. At the thought of their impending long-distance separation, a pang of reluctance and intense longing welled up in her heart.

The sudden, passionate kiss was like a storm that eventually subsided into something gentle and lingering. When their lips parted, there was a faint shimmer of moisture, and Cheng Yixin’s rosy lip glaze was slightly smudged.

“Chi Yi.” Cheng Yixin hooked her arms around Chi Yi’s neck, her fingers entwined in the dark hair, staring straight at her. “Miss me. Miss me a hundred times every day.”

Cheng Yixin didn’t consider herself a “clingy” lover, yet looking at Chi Yi, she couldn’t help but say mushy things. Anyone watching would think they were facing a life-and-death parting.

“I’ll miss you 86,400 times a day,” Chi Yi replied.

Cheng Yixin was about to ask where such a specific number came from when she realized there are 86,400 seconds in a day. She burst out laughing, pinched Chi Yi’s cheek, and wiped away the excess lip glaze from the corner of her mouth. “Yiyi is so good.”

The hotel had a buffet breakfast downstairs. When they arrived at the restaurant, there were quite a few people dining, so they chose a seat by the window. The hotel was near the Film and Television City and was generally reserved for film crews rather than the public, so they weren’t too worried about being recognized by ordinary tourists.

However, just as they sat down, someone came over to greet them.

“Yixin?” Song Zheng was surprised to see her. “Is President Chi here too?”

“Yes.” Cheng Yixin blinked. “Are you filming Like a Dream too?” She hadn’t heard anything about that.

“No, I’m with another crew. It seems we just happened to book the same hotel,” Song Zheng said with a smile. “That’s good; having an acquaintance around makes things less boring.”

Song Zheng was at another table; she had only come over to say hello and left after a few words of small talk. Because they had a train to catch, they didn’t linger and headed to the high-speed railway station after breakfast.

At the station parking lot, the two performed a classic scene of a long-distance couple’s reluctant farewell. Between the hugging and kissing, Chi Yi almost missed her train.

Cheng Yixin rolled down the car window and waved vigorously at Chi Yi, not caring if people outside recognized her. Only after watching Chi Yi disappear into the ticket gate did Cheng Yixin draw the curtains. She felt an immediate emptiness in her heart. She had never felt like this before—and they had only been apart for a few minutes.

Cheng Yixin took a light breath, adjusted her mood, and told the driver to head back to the hotel.

Official filming wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon. Since she had some time, and knowing Song Zheng was also at the studio, she went to visit her on set.

Song Zheng was in great form, finishing three scenes in a single take, which gave her some break time. The two sat under the shade of a tree, avoiding the sunlight hitting the ground, holding hot lattes brought by an assistant.

“About what happened before…” As soon as they met, the conversation naturally turned to the recent live-stream sales incident. Song Zheng asked with concern, “Are you doing okay? You didn’t reply to messages during that time, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I’m fine, it’s all in the past.”

“At the time, I was really afraid you’d do something drastic. Seeing you like this makes me feel relieved.” Song Zheng breathed out. “Why is Chi Yi here? A set visit?” She thought for a moment and added tentatively, “She wouldn’t happen to be pursuing you, would she?”

Cheng Yixin raised an eyebrow and asked playfully, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, wasn’t it the same when Lu Qing was pursuing you? Frequent interactions on Weibo, set visits, and all that.”

“Hmm…” Cheng Yixin thought seriously for nearly a minute before saying, “Your guess isn’t entirely correct. Chi Yi and I have been dating for a while now.”

“???” Song Zheng’s eyes widened. “What?? For a while now?? And you’re only telling me now! The ship of our friendship has capsized!”

“No, I just didn’t find the right opportunity to tell you.” Cheng Yixin laughed it off. It wasn’t that there was no opportunity, but… compared to her “playing house” relationship with Lu Qing, her relationship with Chi Yi was something she took much more seriously.

With Lu Qing, the feelings weren’t deep enough; if word got out, they could have broken up to minimize damage at any time. But with Chi Yi, she had to consider if the person she was telling was trustworthy to avoid any “leaks” that might cause unnecessary trouble for their relationship.

“Fine. I was wondering why the rumors online sounded so real—turns out they actually are!”

“What kind of tongue twister are you saying?” Cheng Yixin laughed. “But I clarified things before, so no matter what the marketing accounts say, people don’t believe it.”

“That’s true.” Song Zheng slapped her thigh. “You actually clarified your relationship with Chi Yi?? If you ever get caught for real in the future, won’t you get flamed to death??”

Cheng Yixin turned to look at her, her eyes full of grievance. “Do you think I’m getting flamed any less right now?”

Song Zheng was momentarily speechless.

“Anyway, the worst-case scenario is paying the liquidated damages and leaving the industry. I don’t care anymore.”

In the past, Cheng Yixin’s thoughts were mostly “I can’t” or “I shouldn’t,” but now she thought more along the lines of “whatever” and “let it be.”

The two chatted a bit longer until a staff member called for Song Zheng, ending the conversation.

Cheng Yixin strolled back to her own crew. The director was currently filming a scene with the extras. Dozens of them were clustered together, but she didn’t see the old grandfather from yesterday. She figured his sudden whim had passed and he had likely gone home.

Filming for Like a Dream was progressing smoothly. Cheng Yixin woke up early every day, aiming to finish her parts quickly so she could go back and video call Chi Yi. Fortunately, President Chi had weekends off, and in just one more day, Chi Yi would be back. The pottery they made had already been fired and was waiting to be picked up.

The weather was particularly cold today. Cheng Yixin exhaled a cloud of white mist. Her hands were shaking as she worked on her needle felting, and she even pricked her finger, though it only left a small red dot.

Teacher Cheng was likely the first person ever to do needle felting on a film set. If she hadn’t already memorized her lines, she would have been blasted by netizens for being unprofessional if the behind-the-scenes footage ever leaked.

Suddenly, she caught the scent of roasted sweet potatoes. On this winter afternoon, it triggered a craving.

“Sister Xin, I bought roasted sweet potatoes. Do you want some?” Xiao Yu was carrying a transparent plastic bag containing a massive, coal-roasted sweet potato with a slightly charred skin.

Cheng Yixin took a small half. The sweet potato was fragrant, sweet, and soft. Her stomach felt satisfied. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had roasted sweet potatoes. I remember they used to sell them right outside my school gates in the winter. A hot bite is so fragrant.”

A small child acting as an extra was being led by her mother. Noticing someone eating, the child stared intently at the sweet potato, practically drooling.

“Mama, Mama.” She tugged at her mother’s hand, her large eyes full of longing. “I want to eat,” she said in a milky voice.

Roasted sweet potatoes weren’t cheap these days, and the mother couldn’t afford them easily, so she tried to coax her daughter with other snacks instead. The crew’s boxed lunches were all standardized and didn’t taste very good, and the portions were small. Everyone usually got hungry by the afternoon.

Cheng Yixin simply paid for Xiao Yu to go and buy up all the sweet potatoes to share with everyone. The busy crew was able to take a brief 30-minute break thanks to this impromptu “afternoon tea.”

While talking to the staff members who were thanking her, she caught a glimpse of white in her peripheral vision.

The old gentleman she hadn’t seen for several days had returned. She had thought he had gone back to Jingning. As soon as he arrived, Xiao Yu handed him a sweet potato.

The director happened to be munching on one next to her, so Cheng Yixin asked, “Director, I see that grandpa I recommended is here. Does he have a scene today?”

The director nearly choked. He covered his mouth and looked around for the “grandpa.” “Uh, let me go check.”

Cheng Yixin was a bit puzzled. The extra role she had recommended earlier had already been filmed by a veteran extra; she had assumed the role was recast because the old man hadn’t shown up.

She didn’t know what the director said to the old man, but after a while, the director led him over.

“Uh, Yixin, I’ve arranged a role for the old gentleman to play opposite you. He’ll be the grandfather of your first love in the drama. You two should communicate. Once the scene is smoothed out, we’ll shoot. I’ll send someone to get the script.”

For some reason, Cheng Yixin felt the director was excessively respectful toward a mere “extra.” In a crew, the director is the king; even with senior extras, they are usually called by name, yet he called this man “Old Gentleman.”

A flash of doubt crossed Cheng Yixin’s mind, but it quickly vanished. The old man shared the same surname as Chi Yi’s grandfather, but from what she knew, “Grandpa Feng” had mentioned children but never a wife, so she assumed he was a widower living alone. Chi Yi’s grandfather, on the other hand, had a happy family and a wife. It was impossible for him to travel this far, and she didn’t believe a billionaire like him would come to be an extra.

During the opening ceremony, she had subtly asked about the “investor,” and the director had pointed out a secretary on a photo—not a grandfatherly figure. If the investor hadn’t even shown up for his own project’s ceremony, it couldn’t be the man in front of her.

She initiated conversation: “Grandpa Feng, I thought you had gone back since I hadn’t seen you for a few days.”

“No,” the old man said with a smile. “I went to visit some friends nearby. The director said he had a role for me, so here I am.”

A staff member quickly brought the script. The old man’s role was that of a highly respected clan leader—the grandfather of the protagonist’s first love. The protagonist was in love with a wealthy, educated man, which meant there was a class disparity. As a member of a prestigious family, the grandfather naturally looked down on the daughter of a poor family and stepped in to break them apart.

Although the grandfather only appeared in flashbacks, his role was narratively heavy. In the descriptions, he was meant to be full of hostility, shouting at the female lead to get lost because she wasn’t good enough for his grandson, with lightning illuminating his sinister face.

Since her sweet potato wasn’t finished, Cheng Yixin didn’t rush to rehearse. She had her assistant bring a small folding stool, and the two sat side-by-side. Cheng Yixin used the script to explain the story to him, believing that knowing the plot would help his acting.

“The roasted sweet potato is quite good,” the old man said composedly. “Will there be more tomorrow?”

Cheng Yixin froze for a second before replying, “If the vendor is there, I’ll treat everyone again.”

“Then I’d like a bowl of tofu pudding too. Eating just the sweet potato is too dry,” the old man added, pushing his luck.

Xiao Yu, standing nearby, couldn’t take it anymore. She had never met someone so bold. She spoke up: “Sister Xin isn’t obligated to buy sweet potatoes for everyone. How can you start placing orders?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Cheng Yixin waved her off. A few sweet potatoes and bowls of tofu pudding were negligible compared to her income. Sharing the food made the atmosphere better and everyone worked harder, which was good for her too. As for the old man’s boldness, he felt like an elderly relative making demands of a younger one; she just treated it as “respecting the elderly.”

Once the sweet potatoes were finished and the story was explained, it was time to practice. The old man didn’t have many lines—they were few but impactful—relying mostly on aura and emotion. While other actors were filming their parts, Cheng Yixin rehearsed with him.

“Ah!” The old man held the script in one hand and began a flat reading: “I do not agree to you being together!”

“You are not worthy of our Gao family! If you know what’s good for you, leave on your own!”

His acting wasn’t “bad” per se—it was non-existent. There was no expression; he was just reading off the script.

“…” Cheng Yixin massaged her forehead, trying to be tactful. “Didn’t you say you’ve performed before? Why doesn’t your expression reflect that…?”

“Decades ago in primary school, I performed a poetry recital. After all these years, I still remember that poem,” the old man said, looking quite entranced by the memory.

“…” Is it too late to ask the director for a refund?

Fine, she’d try one more approach.

Cheng Yixin shifted her strategy. “You have granddaughters at home, right?”

“Yes.” The old man held up two fingers, looking proud. “Two of them!”

“Then imagine this: a poor boy—lazy, a womanizer, and a total deadbeat—uses his silver tongue to trick your innocent granddaughter and steal her heart. Your granddaughter insists on marrying him and even wants to have three kids with him. After the babies are born, they can’t afford a nanny, so your granddaughter has to do the laundry and cooking for him while she’s still recovering from childbirth and looking after the kids…”

Before she could finish, the smile on the old man’s face vanished. His eyes were instantly filled with hostility and a burning rage.

“Yes, yes, yes! That’s the feeling! Say the lines with that emotion!”

The old man didn’t just say the lines. He snatched the small stool off the ground and looked ready to breathe fire. Cheng Yixin scrambled to stop him, managing to rescue the stool from his grip after much persuasion.

The old man threw his sleeves back and put his hands behind his back, still fuming from Cheng Yixin’s description. “I’m furious! It seems I need to give my granddaughters some lessons on moral and ideological education!”

The old man stomped off in a huff, leaving Cheng Yixin bewildered in the wind.

The “actor” had found the character, but he wasn’t following the script!

“Maybe we should just recast…”