Frivolous - Chapter 21 - Lovely Blossoms

Chapter 21

Chen Ran stood at the door of the study, steadying her breath before knocking.

“Come in.”

The light inside was bright. Yu Lanzhou was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window on a call, wearing a silk-satin white shirt paired with an apricot-colored skirt. Her long curly hair draped over her chest, and she wore smooth white pearl earrings. Her eyes were deep, her lip color faint.

Beautiful to the extreme. Stoic to the extreme.

As Chen Ran entered, Yu Lanzhou turned around, set her phone on the desk, and gestured casually to the sofa near the window. “Sit.”

Chen Ran sat respectfully in the same spot as last time, her hands resting on her knees. Yu Lanzhou sat further away from her this time.

“Where did you and Yu Zhou go last night?” Yu Lanzhou asked.

Her presence always carried a strong sense of pressure. Chen Ran’s fingers unconsciously picked at the sofa fabric as she considered the intent behind the question. The driver must have already reported to her. Was she worried about Yu Zhou’s safety? Or worried about Yu Zhou being photographed with her? After all, as Yu Lanzhou’s daughter, Yu Zhou’s photos had never been exposed to the public.

“We went to a barber shop on Xinghan Road; the dyeing took two hours. Then we went to a tattoo parlor in Sijin Alley. We came back right after. Nothing happened.”

“Did anyone recognize you?” Yu Lanzhou asked. With the recent storm surrounding Chen Ran on Weibo, it was a valid concern.

“We went at night. Both Yu Zhou and I wore masks and hats. The owner is a friend I knew from before. We weren’t recognized, and I don’t think we were photographed.”

Yu Lanzhou pursed her pale lips, staring directly at Chen Ran. “Inform me before you go out with her next time.”

Chen Ran should have met that burning gaze, but she could only lower her head. “I’m sorry, Auntie Yu. I understand. It won’t happen again.”

Yu Lanzhou gave a non-committal “Mhm” and asked seemingly at random, “What did you get tattooed on your hand?”

Chen Ran rolled up her pajama sleeve, leaning slightly forward to extend her arm. She revealed a tattoo on her wrist: a small pink horse leaping into a deep blue sea, with a few crabapple petals floating on the surface. The design perfectly covered the old three-centimeter scar.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Yu Lanzhou asked. Chen Ran had previously agreed to go to the hospital for scar removal.

“This tattoo represents rebirth,” Chen Ran answered, staring at that incredibly beautiful face. “The rebirth you bestowed upon me.”

The angle at which she looked at Yu Lanzhou now was almost identical to the day she was saved. Once again, she was enveloped by Yu Lanzhou’s aura.

Yu Lanzhou’s face suddenly flushed; a strange sensation, like a physical jolt, hit her heart. The words were too heavy.

Seeing that Yu Lanzhou was momentarily unsettled by her words, Chen Ran continued, “I waited for a blooming flower amidst the ruins. So, it has commemorative meaning; it’s not a random tattoo.”

Yu Lanzhou narrowed her eyes, regaining her composure. Rebirth, ruins, flowers it all sounded ethereal and vague. But she knew exactly what Chen Ran was saying.

She sighed softly. “Must you make me carry such heavy emotions?”

“Why?” Yu Lanzhou asked in a tone gentler than usual, as if coaxing Chen Ran to lay bare her heart.

Chen Ran had heard that Virgos tend to induce others into confessing. Now, it was being verified: Yu Lanzhou… was very good at it.

So, she confessed: “Because I love you.”

She didn’t care anymore. Even though she knew Yu Lanzhou would not—could not—belong to her, she confessed anyway.

Chen Ran watched Yu Lanzhou’s expression, receiving the expected light chuckle—thin and weightless. It was as if all her schemes and efforts were for naught in front of this woman. She wasn’t exactly discouraged.

Chen Ran pulled a letter from her pocket. Instead of leaving it on the table, she pressed it directly into Yu Lanzhou’s palm. Looking at the prominent sandalwood necklace around Yu Lanzhou’s neck, she said, “Even if it’s late, I still want you to know my feelings. I haven’t truly expressed them to you before. If you have time, please read it. If you don’t want to, just tear it up and throw it in the trash.”

Yu Lanzhou neither refused nor accepted. She simply kept the letter in her palm and leaned back against the sofa, resting her forehead against her hand, her expression remaining calm.

Chen Ran called out to her softly, as if afraid of scaring away a butterfly. “Auntie Yu.”

“I don’t think I am being frivolous.” Chen Ran’s gaze drifted unconsciously to Yu Lanzhou’s lips. She choked up slightly, then said, “I just… cannot help myself.”

I can’t help wanting to love you, wanting to be loved by you. The desire came from the deepest part of her being.

“I have regretted that frivolous kiss countless times, but the truth is just like now: I know you don’t belong to me, yet I still indulge in wishful thinking. I still wickedly want to kiss you. Even knowing I won’t get permission, I still have that impulse.”

Chen Ran knew this was classless, uncouth, even morally corrupt. But she did it anyway. She moved forward again, bit by bit. “Just like right now…”

Actually, it was more than that. Staring at Yu Lanzhou’s deep eyes, she wanted to trace them; the earlobes adorned with pearls, she wanted to take them into her mouth; the fair, delicate neck, she wanted to kiss; the extension beneath the V-neck of the shirt, she wanted to brush open with the tip of her tongue.

And if she were even more out of line…

She was closer now. Yu Lanzhou’s breath seemed to fall on Chen Ran’s collarbone, tender and soft. Chen Ran felt like she was melting. She was dying of thirst. This was happening in broad daylight, in this study, just as it had every time Chen Ran saw her in the past.

Yu Lanzhou interrupted Chen Ran’s uncontrolled fantasies and gaze with a cold look. “Chen Ran, don’t push your luck. Unless you want to be kicked out like you were years ago.”

Chen Ran said, “You didn’t kick me out back then.” I left on my own.

Yu Lanzhou was at a loss for words; she wanted to seal Chen Ran’s mouth. How could there be such a child?

“Yu Lanzhou, you should have known long ago—I am not a child.”

Yu Lanzhou looked up sharply, her expression saying, “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

Chen Ran’s lips were less than fifteen centimeters from Yu Lanzhou’s. She said in a damp tone, “Can I continue to love you? You can just pretend you don’t know.”

Suddenly, Yu Zhou’s voice drifted from downstairs: “Mom, the car is here.”

This shout snapped Yu Lanzhou back to reality. She pushed Chen Ran away abruptly. Then, in an act of obvious overcompensation, she pretended to casually straighten her shirt. “Go out.”

Chen Ran retreated, her face flushed red, yet she said, ” I’ll take that as your tacit consent.”

Before Yu Lanzhou could even glance at her, the phone on the desk lit up for a second, emitting three faint “beeps”—the sound of a hung-up call.

Those words, which should not have been heard by a third person, had been leaked. Chen Ran panicked for a moment, moving toward the desk to see who the caller was. Yu Lanzhou blocked her.

Yu Lanzhou walked over, picked up her phone, glanced at Chen Ran, and said, “Zhou Jingting.”

Chen Ran didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. Should she breathe a sigh of relief or feel humiliated? No wonder she had felt something was off; Yu Lanzhou’s deliberate ambiguity toward her felt like she was confirming and emphasizing Chen Ran’s love for her… as if for someone else to see.

She couldn’t control the dark thoughts in her heart. Was Yu Lanzhou’s indulgence of her just a part of some “play” between her and Zhou Jingting?

Chen Ran’s nails dug into her palms. She walked out quietly and closed the door quietly. Lanzhou…

Chen Ran’s previous travel variety show had aired recently. When the second episode aired on Saturday at 3:00 PM, Lei Xinyi trended. To boost ratings and create controversy, the production team used Chen Ran as clickbait and didn’t edit out the line: “Chen Ran, nobody would look at you now even if you were naked.”

Within an hour, Chen Ran’s fans flooded Lei Xinyi’s comment section. By 5:00 PM, before Yu Lanzhou’s car had even reached home, new hot searches about Chen Ran appeared:

#Destined Jinx#
#Chen Ran is an Orphan#

Clicking into the search, a self-proclaimed classmate of Chen Ran leaked information, claiming she grew up in an orphanage and was a “bad luck” person who brought misfortune to others.

In Chen Ran’s first year at the orphanage, a major fire broke out.
In the second year, the then-director was imprisoned.
In the third year, a child at the orphanage died after a simple fall.
…Even the year Chen Ran left, the caregiver who had looked after her died.

The leaker also claimed: “The reason Chen Ran is so beautiful yet stayed in the orphanage is that she jinxs people. She was adopted three times, but bad things happened to the families afterward, and she was returned every time.”

Yu Lanzhou asked Xu Wan, “Where is she?”

Xu Wan trembled, lowering her head and answering tentatively, “I asked Mother Lin. She’s not at home. There was a smell of alcohol in her room. She’s not anywhere else, and she’s not answering anyone’s calls.”

“Call her using my phone.”

Xu Wan dialed, but the call still wouldn’t go through. She looked cautiously at Yu Lanzhou’s face. Yu Lanzhou shot her a look, and Xu Wan hurriedly used her own phone to call Ruan Qinglu.

When they arrived home, Yu Zhou was standing at the door, her expression panicked. “Sister should be okay, right… where could she be?”

Yu Lanzhou placed a hand on her arm. “How much truth is there to those leaks?”

“They aren’t that exaggerated, they aren’t,” Yu Zhou said aggrievedly. “They took coincidences and pinned them all on her. There’s not much truth to it.”

“I understand. I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yu Lanzhou calmed Yu Zhou down and closed the study door. Twenty minutes later, Ruan Qinglu stood at the door, catching her breath. The first thing she did upon entering was bow in apology. “I’m sorry, Teacher Yu. This was a smear campaign orchestrated by Lei Xinyi’s side. We didn’t take enough precautions.”

Yu Lanzhou’s voice was low and calm. “Who gave permission for that line to be broadcast? Why wasn’t I informed immediately after it aired? And how have you been managing the public opinion since this blew up?”

Ruan Qinglu was five years older than Yu Lanzhou and had been her manager for ten years. When Yu Lanzhou took over Yu Shen and stopped performing, Ruan was assigned to other artists, but their bond remained. She knew that the calmer Yu Lanzhou’s voice was, the more trouble she was in.

“I’m sorry, Director Yu. I thought I could handle it… I’m sorry, I made a mistake. The hot searches have been removed. We’ve issued warnings; they won’t dare move again.”

“Where is she? As her manager, you don’t know your artist’s whereabouts?”

Ruan Qinglu knew Yu Lanzhou valued Chen Ran—otherwise, she wouldn’t have been reassigned specifically to her. But she had never seen Yu Lanzhou show this kind of concern for someone.

She lowered her head even further. “I’m sorry, Director Yu. If I don’t find her within three hours, I will resign.”

Yu Lanzhou gave no reaction. Ruan Qinglu understood, bowed again, and retreated. After the door closed, Yu Lanzhou sat in the same spot Chen Ran had occupied that morning. On the coffee table lay the “love letter” Chen Ran had thrust upon her.

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