Famous Actresses, Please Keep Your Distance From Me - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“You’re welcome,” Cen Zhi replied, appearing calm on the surface while actually feeling somewhat dazed.

It was difficult to understand Duan Rujin’s erratic leaps of thought.

Yu Lu pressed her palm against her forehead. “You two, I feel like my brain is starting to hurt from overthinking.” She began to analyze the situation solemnly. “It must be because you’re so afraid of needles that you had to hold onto A-Zhi, right, Rujin?”

“Right,” Duan Rujin adjusted her mask. “That’s exactly it.”

Yu Lu let out a low, frustrated sigh. “Then the way you said it was so…” She couldn’t find the right word for a moment. “So prone to being misunderstood.”

“That’s your problem. I was just stating a fact.”

Cen Zhi only hoped that time would slip away faster. Being around Duan Rujin like this felt like an ordeal. Moreover, remembering Duan Rujin’s earlier remark at the rescue station—that the possibility of them not meeting again was small—made her scalp tingle with unease.

Fortunately, she was well aware of Duan Rujin’s unique profession. Regular meetings were impossible. Thinking of this, she felt slightly more relaxed.

After this interlude, the atmosphere fell completely silent.

Cen Zhi closed her eyes to feign sleep, counting numbers in her head. By the time she reached a four-digit number, the doctor came over to check on Duan Rujin’s condition, gave a few more instructions, and cleared her to leave.

The three of them got back into the van. Duan Rujin tucked the vaccination record and the precaution sheet into her bag.

Cen Zhi drove again. The rain had stopped about ten minutes ago, but the weather was muggy. She rolled down the window, letting the wind toss her long, wavy hair.

Duan Rujin propped her head up on her hand, her gaze occasionally landing on Cen Zhi’s face before quickly looking away.

No one noticed.

As they neared the “Shining Star” courtyard, Cen Zhi wrapped up the day’s events. “Yu Lu, Miss Duan, thank you for your hard work today.”

“Hard work? We just took some photos and fed some dogs,” Yu Lu sighed. “I really hope that the next time I come, these little guys aren’t here anymore. Wait, that sounds wrong—I mean, I hope they’ve all been adopted.”

Duan Rujin raised her right hand. “My wound will help me remember this experience, too.”

Cen Zhi: “Mhm.”

Yu Lu’s eyes darted between the two of them a couple of times before she made a suggestion. “How about this? A-Zhi, Rujin, I’ll start a WeChat group. If there’s any info later, we can sync up in the group.”

Cen Zhi wanted to refuse. She felt it would be bizarre to be in a group with Duan Rujin, and any follow-up info could be found on the rescue station’s official account anyway. But before she could open her mouth, Duan Rujin had already agreed. “Sure.”

“…”

However, before the van even entered the “Shining Star” courtyard, Cen Zhi spotted a familiar yet strange figure standing outside the main gate.

He was familiar because she saw him often over the last three years, but strange because they had barely spoken more than a few words.

It was the man from the auto repair shop, “Chen Kai,” who had sent flowers yesterday.

Yu Lu stroked her chin, looking puzzled. “I saw on Xiaohongshu earlier that someone called him the ‘Takeshi Kaneshiro’ of Yuncheng. Where exactly is the resemblance?”

“…” Cen Zhi turned the van into the yard and parked.

From Duan Rujin’s perspective, she could see the man following them in. She didn’t say a word, just watched silently.

She watched Cen Zhi get out of the car and saw her accept the flowers the man offered.

However, she could only see the back of Cen Zhi’s head; what was clearer was the slightly bashful smile on the man’s face.

“Xiao Lu,” Duan Rujin couldn’t help but ask Yu Lu, who was still in the car. “Who is that man?”

Yu Lu knew a little bit. “He’s the owner of one of the repair shops next to A-Zhi’s place. He’s been pursuing A-Zhi for a long time, but he’s too clumsy. He only knows how to send flowers or treat her to dinner—no other moves. He just grins like an idiot in front of her.”

Duan Rujin’s eyelashes fluttered. “Oh.”

Chen Kai was just there to deliver flowers. Seeing that Cen Zhi had accepted them, he smiled again and left without further lingering, disappearing from their sight.

Holding the flowers, Cen Zhi tapped on the car window. “Come on down.”

Yu Lu pushed open the door and looked at Cen Zhi with a raised eyebrow. “Are these going to be made into dried flowers again?”

“Yes, I haven’t processed the ones he sent yesterday yet.”

Duan Rujin also got out of the car. She didn’t walk over; instead, she stood by the passenger door and tipped the brim of her hat up slightly. “These flowers don’t really suit you, Cen Zhi.”

She had used her full name again.

Yu Lu didn’t catch any deeper meaning. “Really? I think these icy blue roses go quite well with A-Zhi.”

Duan Rujin stared at Cen Zhi. “They don’t.”

Cen Zhi found Duan Rujin difficult to read again. She didn’t bother arguing and steered the topic back. “When are you two going back to rest?”

She was essentially asking them to leave.

Yu Lu checked the time on her phone. “Right, it is getting late.” She walked toward her own car. “Rujin, let’s go. I’ll drive you back. Your vacation balance is running low.”

Cen Zhi didn’t wait for them both to get in before turning away. She held the flowers in one hand and her phone in the other. Her eyelid twitched when she saw a new group in her WeChat titled “Go Fur-babies Go.”

Duan Rujin had come up with the name. It was blunt, simple, and lacked any depth.

Whatever.

Cen Zhi made her peace with it, pocketed her phone, and entered “Shining Star.”

The presentation of the silk banner needed to be recorded; Cen Zhi maintained a perfect, standard smile.

“I don’t think we’ll raise another pet in the future,” the female owner said, holding Kong Kong’s blue ceramic urn, her thumb stroking the surface. “I can’t go through a loss like this again.”

The male owner put his arm around her shoulder, the grief still visible on his face.

Cen Zhi pursed her lips and didn’t try to persuade them otherwise. Everyone’s feelings are different. Although she was a pet mortician, her experiences were always from the third-person perspective of death. Since she had never owned a pet herself, she couldn’t truly empathize with their specific pain.

“Then, when you miss Kong Kong in the future, you can look at the stars. The first one you see will be Kong Kong.”

The female owner’s voice was thick with emotion, and she let out a small, sad laugh. “I used to think words like that were just to coax children. Now I feel there’s nothing wrong with being a child.” She took a deep breath. “Alright, thank you. We’ll take Kong Kong home now.”

Cen Zhi nodded. “Then let’s never meet again.”

Both owners were stunned for a moment, then followed suit. “We won’t meet again.”

Cen Zhi saw them to the yard, watched them get into their car, and then returned to her office.

The shop was small, and so was the office. She shared it with Wen Lin, making it feel a bit cramped, but it had all the necessary equipment.

Wen Lin had just finished cleaning a body and was resting. When Cen Zhi entered, she was holding a cup of water.

“How was the rescue station?” she asked.

Cen Zhi sat down in a soft chair. “Same as before, no major changes.”

Wen Lin put down her cup. “We have to work some overtime this afternoon. Another rescue station sent over a few cats that didn’t make it. Let’s get them cleaned up.”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t just the rescue stations; local pet hospitals would also send over stray cats and dogs that hadn’t survived. Consequently, the ashes of these stray animals were never claimed. After all, they were strays in life. Cen Zhi and the team would eventually scatter their ashes together in a forest in the suburbs.

“But speaking of which…” Wen Lin asked. “Xiao Feng said that not only did Yu Lu come this afternoon, but a big star came along too?”

Cen Zhi looked at her. “Duan Rujin?”

“Yeah.”

Wen Lin scrolled through Duan Rujin’s Weibo casually. “I remember she went to the same university as you?”

“We aren’t close.”

“A pity she doesn’t have pets. Otherwise, we might have had an opportunity.”

Cen Zhi frowned and looked directly at her. “Wen Lin, what do you mean by ‘a pity’?”

“If something happened to a pet of hers, maybe we could have secured that order. With her as a high-profile case, business at the shop would definitely get a boost. Isn’t that a pity?”

Cen Zhi’s temples throbbed. Her tone was cold. “Have you become numb to death? Do you only see business?”

“Cen Zhi, have you forgotten how much debt your family still has to pay off?”

“That’s two different things.”

Cen Zhi turned her gaze back to the computer. “It’s better if you keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.”

“You aren’t close to her anyway, so what thoughts could I have?”

Cen Zhi had no intention of continuing the conversation. Their management philosophies were different. she began checking the appointment status on the shop’s mini-program backend.

The shop operated year-round, and staff breaks were scheduled on a rotating basis. It was basically impossible to have weekends off. Two days off a week had to be chosen elsewhere; Tuesday and Wednesday happened to be Cen Zhi’s days off.

As she was going over her tasks, the phone on the desk vibrated. The lock screen showed several new WeChat messages.

She had set the “Go Fur-babies Go” group to “Mute,” so these messages definitely weren’t related to Duan Rujin.

Thinking this, Cen Zhi felt safe picking up her phone to unlock it.

Indeed, they had nothing to do with Duan Rujin. It was good news from Brother Xin in the rescue station group, saying that after they left, a new kind-hearted person had adopted two cats.

Cen Zhi hesitated for a few seconds before taking a screenshot and posting it into the “Go Fur-babies Go” group.

Yu Lu, who had already dropped Duan Rujin home, replied: “Wow! That’s awesome!”

A few seconds later, Duan Rujin followed with: “Very good.”

Only then did Cen Zhi notice that Duan Rujin had changed her group ID to “By Any Means.”

Cen Zhi: …

She clicked on Yu Lu’s profile and saw she had changed hers to something like “Insufficient Balance,” though because they were friends, it only showed her nickname.

Cen Zhi rubbed her brow.

Just as she was about to exit the interface, Duan Rujin tagged her individually in the group: “I think I left my vaccination record in your van.”

Cen Zhi’s brow furrowed. She had clearly seen Duan Rujin put the papers into her own bag.

By Any Means: “Please help me keep it safe. I’ll come to see you in two days to pick it up.”

By Any Means: “Thanks in advance, Thousand Cen Cake.”

Cen Zhi’s silence was deafening.

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