Hating Her, While Still Having to Address Her as Mother - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Teacher Jian, Have Some Water

Chapter Brief: “Jian Yu is a Green Tea”

Time flew by. From confirming schedules to artist negotiations, the entire film production process proceeded smoothly. After the contracts were signed, it was time for the script reading.

While Jian Yu was still thinking about how to avoid meeting Jiang Shenwei in public, they had to participate in the script reading together again. She figured that once they joined the production crew, the number of times they met outside would increase daily. The mere thought of it made Jian Yu fret.

But the reality was that time wouldn’t allow her even a moment’s respite.

While she was subconsciously dazing off because of Jiang Shenwei’s casual white tracksuit, the actor sitting next to her lightly nudged her elbow to signal that the next line was hers.

“…” Jian Yu had spaced out; she didn’t know where they were in the script.

She rarely made such low-level mistakes, but at this moment, Jiang Shenwei was sitting directly opposite her. The indoor heating was so strong that Jiang Shenwei had taken off her jacket halfway through; her sleeveless T-shirt highlighted the fairness of her skin and the powerful lines of her arms as they rested on the table.

In all these years, Jiang Shenwei had never abandoned two habits: one was spending time at the gym, and the other was warming milk for Jian Yu every night.

Jian Yu’s breath hitched. She felt the heating was too high; she was having trouble breathing properly.

Jiang Shenwei seemed to sense Jian Yu’s predicament. She patiently re-read the line she had just finished: “My kindness is an act, my gentleness is a facade. My goodness to you is something I carefully decorated and placed before you.”

“In your eyes, haven’t I always been like this?”

Jiang Shenwei’s voice was precise. Even without a camera pointed at her, she instantly switched channels from her own bored tone to the gentle cadence of her character, Shen Manci. She captured the character perfectly—a sharp kind of gentleness. Even for a mere script reading, her performance was flawless and diligent.

Thanks to Jiang Shenwei, Jian Yu found her place in the script and continued.

“If that’s the case, and you know it, why won’t you leave?”

“Why must you destroy my family, Shen Manci?”

Jian Yu didn’t slack off either. As she spoke, she switched to Su Zhixi’s tone, bringing her indignation to a high standard.

Jiang Shenwei’s beautiful brows furrowed slightly. She drew a few lines on the script with a blue highlighter.

“Personally, I think the line ‘I didn’t destroy your family’ is too brief here,” Jiang Shenwei suggested. “It doesn’t match Su Zhixi’s intense emotion.” She tapped the highlighter cap against the plain table. “Shen Manci is a gentle yet powerful woman. This treatment makes her seem a bit too indifferent. How about we expand the lines?”

The screenwriter nodded. “True. While it looks fine in the novel, it might feel different when performed. We can expand it.”

“Let’s change it to: ‘I didn’t destroy your family, Zhixi. Today is the Winter Solstice, let’s go home first. We’ll talk about everything when we get back.'”

Jiang Shenwei, wearing a blue baseball cap, nodded in agreement. She always wore a baseball cap during script readings, and today was no exception.

This was the first time Jian Yu had worked with Jiang Shenwei professionally. At home, Jiang Shenwei’s aura was completely different from her persona at work. It was subtle; even though she maintained a comfortable casualness at work, she was precise about every detail.

Jian Yu remembered once when red wine spilled on Jiang Shenwei’s script. When Jian Yu helped pick it up, she caught a glimpse of the pages—they were covered in colorful highlighter marks.

Before returning the script, Jian Yu had casually asked why it was so marked up. Jiang Shenwei had simply said that blue was for lines she questioned, yellow was for emphasizing emotional peaks, and orange was for emotional transitions that needed attention.

Jiang Shenwei’s meticulousness permeated every aspect of her life. She seemed indifferent, but in truth, she calculated everything.

When they took a break, Jiang Shenwei handed a bottle of mineral water to Jian Yu.

“Teacher Jian, have some water,” Jiang Shenwei said, tilting her head slightly.

The movement was hauntingly familiar. It happens every night… after Jiang Shenwei had teased her to the point of exhaustion. She would bring a glass of warm water, tilt her head, and say playfully, “Master, have some water.”

Then, Jian Yu would glare at the culprit before taking the water.

Jiang Shenwei seemed to remember it too. Just as Jian Yu reached for the bottle, Jiang Shenwei playfully pulled her hand back, causing Jian Yu to miss.

As Jian Yu prepared to reach again, a young actor—Director Zheng’s nephew, a newcomer—was fiddling with his phone nearby, claiming he was recording a vlog. He was a rookie who relied on his uncle’s connections. To gain public attention, he mimicked influencers by filming behind-the-scenes content.

“Hello, hello everyone! Today the crew is doing a script reading… (blah blah blah).”

The man’s sudden loud voice startled Jian Yu. Caught off guard by being filmed, her body flinched. She failed to catch the water Jiang Shenwei was handing over, and the bottle fell to the floor with a thud.

Jian Yu moved to pick it up, but Jiang Shenwei said, “I’ll do it.”

After a while, Jiang Shenwei didn’t get up. Jian Yu looked down and saw the other woman beckoning her. Confused but compliant, Jian Yu crouched down and ducked under the table with her.

The table was covered with a dark burgundy tablecloth. Their movements beneath it were invisible to everyone else.

Jiang Shenwei leaned into Jian Yu’s ear. “You look very pretty today.”

Jian Yu looked down at her light-colored casual wear—just the kind of private clothes Jiang Shenwei saw her in every day. Before she could process the meaning, Jiang Shenwei’s warm lips brushed against her earlobe, sending a shiver through her.

The compliment was a lie; the teasing was the truth.

“Don’t…” Jian Yu’s voice was suddenly hoarse.

Jiang Shenwei pressed her advantage, handing her the water. “Teacher Jian, have some water. Your voice is hoarse.”

This was the second time she’d said it today, but the tone carried a different meaning. Flustered and angry, Jian Yu snapped, “I’m not drinking.”

They finally emerged from under the table when the break ended.

The bottle of water never made it to Jian Yu. Jiang Shenwei simply unscrewed it and, looking straight at Jian Yu, took a provocative drink from the bottle.

Jian Yu felt extremely uneasy. Unable to look at Jiang Shenwei, she grabbed her highlighter and lowered her head to take notes.

…

The script reading incidents should have been minor. However, after returning home, Jian Yu felt a lingering sense of unease.

After reviewing the script a few more times and coming out of the shower, she realized Kevin had called her 32 times. Calling this late was never a good sign.

Without even drying her hair, Jian Yu went to answer the phone barefoot. Jiang Shenwei glanced at her, and Jian Yu, sensing the look, put on her slippers before calling back.

“Hello, what’s wrong?”

“Oh my god! Director Zheng’s nephew is a complete idiot! He has goat poop for brains!” Kevin shouted.

Jian Yu never understood Kevin’s obsession with poop-related insults. She knew Kevin wasn’t fond of “3D carbon-based lifeforms,” but had he regressed this much?

“What happened?”

“During the script reading this afternoon, that kid recorded a vlog or whatever.”

“Yes, he was recording. What about it?”

“The idiot didn’t edit it or show it to us. He just posted it. And wouldn’t you know it—he caught the part where Jiang Shenwei handed you water and you ‘dropped’ it.”

“Oh.” Jian Yu understood.

She practicedly switched to her burner account on Weibo. Sure enough, the hashtag #JianYuGreenTea was trending.

Jian Yu clicked on the tag. The netizens’ editing skills were as superb as ever. They had trimmed the long vlog into a 42-second “drama” between the two. In the clip, Jian Yu looked “cold-faced” as she knocked the water out of Jiang Shenwei’s hand, and worse, Jiang Shenwei was the one who crouched down to pick it up.

Jian Yu exited the app. She checked again and saw another trending tag: #JianYuActingHighAndMighty.

To make matters worse, at the end of the video, when Jiang Shenwei emerged from under the table, she still had the water in her hand. Without dialogue, the netizens had filled in the blanks with a malicious story.

Jian Yu chose not to read the comments. She needed her rest for the first day of shooting tomorrow.

“So, what do you plan to do?” Kevin asked.

“The more you clarify these things, the more they insist it’s true. Let it be. Go to sleep.”

“Jian Yu! How can you sleep at your age?”

Jian Yu thought to herself: Because I have a wife. But she kept her sharp tongue in check. “I start shooting tomorrow. I have to sleep.”

Kevin sounded almost moved to tears. “You’ve grown up. You’ve really grown up.” Kevin remembered when Jian Yu first started; she would stay up all night crying over bad comments. Now, she was unbothered.

Jian Yu hung up quickly before Kevin could get overly sentimental.

After the call, Jiang Shenwei closed her book and looked at Jian Yu intently. “What happened?” As she asked, she stood up and slowly began to untie her bathrobe.

Wait, is she really asking about what happened?

Jian Yu swallowed her retort and tried to sound calm. “Nothing. Just that Kevin’s cats are in heat.”

“Oh? She’d call you this late over that?”

“Yeah, she’s a boring person.”

“And what advice did you give her?” Jiang Shenwei’s eyes darkened.

“I said… go let it out.” Jian Yu spoke clearly, knowing her composure would soon be shattered by that silver tongue.

In bed, Jian Yu was teased until she cried again. While crying, she reached out as if trying to grab onto something, clutching Jiang Shenwei’s half-slipped bathrobe.

Jiang Shenwei lovingly wiped her tears, asking patiently, “Why the tears? What’s wrong, baby? Who bullied you?”

Jian Yu, looking pitiful with her red nose, forced herself to snap, “What did you call me?”

“Master~” Jiang Shenwei corrected herself immediately.

Jiang Shenwei idly twirled Jian Yu’s smooth hair. She continued her movements while asking what was wrong. Jian Yu refused to say a word until she eventually fell into an exhausted sleep.

Jiang Shenwei smiled, put her bathrobe back on, tucked Jian Yu in, and left the bedroom.

In a corner of the living room, she turned on a small lamp. In the faint light, she saw that the trending topics on Weibo had been suppressed a bit. Her smile widened. She turned off the lamp, leaving the night in silent, lonely stillness.