Hating Her, While Still Having to Address Her as Mother - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Has No One Ever Told You?

Chapter Introduction: Is Jiang Shenwei a Lunatic?

It wasn’t the alarm clock that woke Jian Yu first, nor the call of her lover, but a frantic “death call” from her manager, Kevin, in the early morning.

“Hello?” Jian Yu’s voice, laced with drowsiness, opened the conversation.

However, the person on the other end gave her zero chance to wake up slowly before diving straight into the point.

“Hello? Look at Weibo. Now.”

Jian Yu let out a soft sigh. Tiredly, she poked the spine of the person lying next to her. “Pass me my phone.”

Jian Yu usually kept two phones: one for work and one for personal use to avoid accidentally posting from the wrong account while browsing. Usually, she used one specific device for “surfing” the web.

The person sleeping beside her silently kissed the corner of her eye before getting up to fetch the phone.

Kevin, who was an expert at catching even the slightest rustle in the grass, immediately picked up on the lead. “Who are you talking to? Did you stay overnight at a friend’s place?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jian Yu’s voice trailed off with a long, lingering cadence. Just having woken up, she really lacked energy. She had one weakness: she needed a “buffer period” after waking up to become fully conscious.

“A friend,” Jian Yu added a moment later, after she had somewhat come to her senses.

As the other side of the bed dipped slightly, Jian Yu knew the person had returned with the phone. She reached out blindly, and the device landed firmly in her palm.

When the mattress sank a bit deeper again, it meant the person had climbed back into bed.

Kevin asked suspiciously, “A male friend or a female friend?”

As Kevin asked this, the other person’s fingers began toyed with Jian Yu’s ear cartilage with great interest—first pinching the outer rim, then sliding down toward the earlobe, much like the way her fingertips had smoothed down Jian Yu’s spine to her tailbone when unfastening her gown the night before.

“Female,” Jian Yu replied, opening Weibo with practiced ease.

Unlike Jian Yu’s dull morning, the moment Weibo opened, a flood of messages from across the internet converged before her eyes.

Jian Yu calmly looked at the #1 Hot Search: “Jiang Shenwei: A Son in Her Old Age.”

Right below it was the #2 Hot Search: “Jiang Shenwei and Jian Yu to Star in ‘The Story of Me and My Stepmother’.”

The #3 entry was just Jian Yu’s name with the tag: “I’m Free (for real)!”

Before Jian Yu could speak, Kevin exploded on the other end.

“I’m telling you, even an elementary schooler knows that if you’re going to eat spicy strips (latiao), you do it behind your parents’ backs! Jiang Shenwei’s side didn’t leave us an inch of room. The cameras haven’t even started rolling, and they’re already rushing to buy Hot Searches. They didn’t even give us a chance to prepare our PR! Truly a ‘big shot’ move—only thinking of themselves, with zero regard for whether others live or die.”

Jian Yu turned her head slightly to look at the “Master” who was still pinching her ear. The woman’s smile seemed to deepen; her cat-like eyes made her look like a smug stray that had just stolen a prize fish.

It was as if catching a fresh fish at the docks allowed her to chuckle in the shadows all day.

“It’s not a big deal. Just take it as a promotion for the drama.”

“For the love of— My dear sister, you are truly too merciful! Can you tone down that ‘already dead inside’ vibe for a second? They’ve literally slapped you in the face with a ‘Big Move,’ and you’re still lounging at home knitting sweaters!”

“The cat” ducked under the covers. A stray “paw” mischievously lifted Jian Yu’s cotton pajamas, seemingly tracing the lines of her abs by accident.

On a winter morning, wild cats don’t like getting up early. They prefer to burrow under the quilts and enjoy a lingering moment of intimacy with their mate.

Jian Yu tilted her head back slightly. Her mouth opened and closed, but all sound was suppressed in her throat—choked off at the neck. She was very good at suppressing her voice.

A bit annoyed, she tugged at the “wild cat’s” hair to signal her to stop, but the other woman gave zero reaction, remaining entirely focused on her “work.”

“I don’t know how to knit…” In the brief gaps where she could manage a voice, Jian Yu answered Kevin.

“That was a metaphor! Let’s not get hung up on that. Have you seriously not seen these comments?”

“Jiang Shenwei is old enough to be someone’s mom, it’s pathetic.”

“If she wants to be our Jian Yu’s mom, she’ll have to get in line. Where did this stray dog come from, trying to be a mother to everyone she meets on the street?”

Jian Yu heard the “wild cat” beneath the covers let out a sharp “pfft” of laughter.

“K, I told you not to hire people to pick fights.”

Hearing that, Jian Yu knew her manager must have spent money again last night to hire “water soldiers” to clash with Jiang Shenwei’s fans.

Jian Yu summoned the last of her strength to look at her phone screen. She saw a chaotic, muddy battlefield—no different from a crowd of people fighting over the last egg in a wet market.

The “last egg” was treated like the absolute Truth; whoever grabbed it was deemed right.

She scrolled through the actual war zone:

1L: “Yo yo yo, the ‘Jian Army’ is out in force again~ Your girl is so irrelevant, do you really have no clue?” (Likes: 1310)

2L: “What’s wrong with being a stepmother? Even when Jian Yu reaches Jiang Shenwei’s age, she’ll still be ‘irrelevant to the core.’ It’s not an age issue. It’s a ‘no talent but loves to scream’ issue.” (Likes: 945)

3L: “Our Jiang-Jiang doesn’t want to work with your Jian Yu either. Can the other side stop being so toxic?” (Likes: 660)

The “last egg of Truth” didn’t fall into anyone’s lap. Instead, for Jian Yu, that egg—symbolizing chaos—seemed to be smashed right against her forehead.

The broken egg dripped a foul-smelling liquid down her nose; the whites slid across her face while she remained expressionless.

Ignoring Kevin’s continuing rant, Jian Yu abruptly hung up the phone.

She reached under the covers and firmly pinched the chin of the thieving wild cat. The woman didn’t resist; instead, she looked back playfully, licking a drop of transparent liquid from the corner of her mouth.

She teased, “Are you angry?”

What left Jian Yu even more speechless was that the culprit was lying smugly in her bed, gazing at her with innocent, “clueless” eyes.

Yes, the world-famous Best Actress, the Berlin winner rumored to be her bitter rival—Jiang Shenwei—was currently crawling out from under her duvet.

Using her long, elegant fingers, Jiang Shenwei lightly patted the hand pinching her jaw. “Be good. Let go.”

Jian Yu’s eyes were screaming: “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

After Jian Yu reluctantly let go, Jiang Shenwei leaned down and buried her head against Jian Yu’s soft abdomen, nuzzling her a few times.

Jian Yu reached out somewhat messily to stroke her hair. “Jiang, next time you do something like this, could you at least give me a heads-up?”

Muffled against Jian Yu’s stomach, Jiang Shenwei murmured, “As you wish, Master.”

Jian Yu let out a faint sigh and prepared to get up to wash.

But Jiang Shenwei caught her hand. “Tonight, let’s go see Director Zheng and the others. We’ll have dinner together.”

Jian Yu looked at her. “You could have just informed me. Why are you asking for my opinion now?”

From the unprompted recommendation to the sudden official announcement, Jian Yu was involved in everything, yet it felt as though her knowing or not knowing didn’t change the outcome at all.

Jiang Shenwei did things like a whirlwind—here today, gone tomorrow. Maybe she just gained interest for a second and gave her a resource; maybe she just felt like stirring up their rivalry regardless of anyone’s wishes.

To Jiang Shenwei, these matters could be big or small. To Jian Yu, it was like a heavy stone thrown into a quiet pond, sending splashes everywhere. To Jiang Shenwei, it was just a pebble skipping across the surface, leaving no ripple.

Jiang Shenwei lowered her head and kissed Jian Yu’s shoulder to comfort her and lower her temper. She knew exactly which “sliding kneel” posture would earn her forgiveness.

She reached out, interlacing her fingers with Jian Yu’s. While playing with Jian Yu’s fingers, she said, “I recommended you because this script is truly excellent. And the official announcement was to start the promotion early.”

“But, next time, before I do these things, I will ask for your opinion first. I did indeed act first and report later.”

Looking at Jiang Shenwei’s sincere apology, Jian Yu’s heart eventually softened. She rubbed Jiang Shenwei’s head. “Fine. Let’s go wash up and get breakfast. I think I set a timer before bed last night—there’s a pot of silver ear soup brewing.”

“Okay.”

Usually, they washed up in separate bathrooms; they didn’t like crowding into a small space.

After Jian Yu left the bedroom, an unexpected call came in for Jiang Shenwei.

Jiang Shenwei pushed open the window and sat on the ledge, casually crossing her legs as she answered. It was Nan Xi, who briefed her on the situation and mentioned that Kevin had reached out to coordinate their public statements for a unified front.

Kevin hoped Jiang Shenwei’s side would soften their stance and stop being so antagonistic to break the fan deadlock.

“Kevin’s side wants to hold a press conference. First, to promote the drama. Second, Miss Jian’s side hopes we can clarify that your relationship isn’t as bad as the rumors suggest.”

Nan Xi used the formal “you” (nín) typical of her polite, slightly stiff Gen Z style. Despite Jiang Shenwei correcting her many times, Nan Xi persisted.

Sitting high up in the building, Jiang Shenwei’s long, pale legs swayed as she crossed them.

She smiled radiantly. “We’re not hyping a CP. Is there really a need to clarify baseless rumors?”

“But if we don’t mention it… Miss Jian’s situation might be very difficult.”

Jiang Shenwei laughed. “You really are kind, Nan Xi.”

“It’s not… isn’t that what any normal person would think?” It’s clearly just you, Boss, who lacks empathy, Nan Xi thought.

Jiang Shenwei looked out the window at the bougainvillea climbing the iron pipes, growing toward the sun with stubborn brilliance. The rose-red color looked particularly jarring in the misty morning.

“Jian Yu isn’t as fragile as you think.”

“…So, how do we reply to Miss Jian? Are we refusing?”

“Help her.” Jiang Shenwei’s toes lightly touched the floor as she stood up steadily. “Of course we will help,” she added.

Her voice was as gentle as water, but her words felt cold.

“Tell Kevin I will attend the press conference. As for the script, they can draft something for me. Or I can just ad-lib. Either is fine.”

“Okay, I’ll relay that to K.” Nan Xi hesitated after finishing. She wasn’t as sharp as her aunt, Nan Jiang, nor was she as good at reading people. “Boss, I don’t really understand. If you truly want what’s best for Miss Jian, why do it this way?”

If Jiang Shenwei truly cared, she could have lent a hand years ago when Jian Yu’s career was at its lowest. With her power, it would have been effortless.

Even if this was for Jian Yu’s own good, the official announcement should have accounted for their public image. They should have notified Jian Yu’s team so they could prepare the PR.

From the recommendation to the announcement, every step felt like a notification without consultation. On the surface, it was “for your own good,” but in reality, it felt like a unilateral “salvation” born of a whim.

It was like picking up a wounded bird today and curing it on a sudden impulse. You care about her today, but you don’t care about her tomorrow.

Jiang Shenwei didn’t seem surprised by the young assistant’s questioning. Nan Xi was a fresh graduate, just entering society; her vision and experience weren’t enough to see through Jiang Shenwei yet.

Jiang Shenwei simply smiled. “Before your aunt let you take this job, didn’t she explain my situation?”

“Did she never tell you… that Jiang Shenwei is actually a lunatic?”

Jiang Shenwei was a practical person. She knew exactly what lay behind every action a person took.

To be honest, although she recommended Jian Yu, her fundamental motive wasn’t entirely to help her. In this matter, she was more like a merchant. From an objective standpoint, she believed that with her and Jian Yu as leads, the project could reach a higher level of artistry and box office success.

But beyond those objective factors, she admitted her most subjective reason for recommending Jian Yu:

She delighted in watching Jian Yu struggle. She enjoyed being the “audience” in the shadows and in the light, watching the ups and downs of Jian Yu’s life as an actress from below the stage.

She gave Jian Yu this opportunity purely to satisfy her own “desire to watch.”

But how could she explain such deep-seated, true thoughts to someone who hadn’t seen the world?

So, Jiang Shenwei simply laughed it off. “Nan Xi, you still have so much to learn.”