I Rely on My Versatility to Reach the Top of the Entertainment Industry [Ancient Times to Modern] - Chapter 47

The tall, long-legged man made no attempt to avoid suspicion, stepping close and directly grasping Jing Yi’s hands, pressing their foreheads together as he said, “I prepared meals for everyone. Now you won’t refuse me, will you?”

The assistant promptly placed the vegetarian meal boxes on the table and turned to direct the catering cart staff to serve additional dishes to the entire crew.

Everyone cheered.

People often joked about giving someone in the crew a “chicken leg” for a job well done, but Lu Yuzhi’s meal offerings included not just chicken legs but even seafood.

A full bowl of premium dishes!

With such a commotion, Gu Chen, as the director, had to step forward.

“Brother Lu, long time no see.” Gu Chen greeted Lu Yuzhi, his gaze sweeping over the opened meal box with a slight frown.

Ningcheng’s Jialan Temple only offered its vegetarian meals for external distribution once a month, free of charge to all devotees.

Today wasn’t Jialan Temple’s designated distribution day, yet Lu Yuzhi had specifically brought the meals in Jialan Temple’s containers.

Glancing at Jing Yi’s lunchbox containing only rice and Ji Lin munching on a chicken leg, Gu Chen realized the special meal he had arranged for Jing Yi might not have been what he needed.

“Long time no see, Xiao Gu.” Lu Yuzhi set the vegetarian dishes in front of Jing Yi.

Gu Chen smiled. “I won’t disturb your meal. I have matters to attend to over there.”

“Not a disturbance.” Lu Yuzhi curved his lips slightly. “Come, try Jialan Temple’s vegetarian dishes together. They’re said to be a Ningcheng specialty.”

“Thank you, but I’m truly busy.” Gu Chen cast a deep look at Jing Yi, whose eyes sparkled as he gazed at the dishes, then turned and left.

Xiaguang remained seated, silently eating his rice.

Ji Lin tugged at Xiaguang’s sleeve. “Come on, there’s meat over there.”

Xiaguang hadn’t expected Ji Lin, who appeared slender, to be so strong. He reluctantly stood and followed Ji Lin away.

With no one else around, Jing Yi still spoke softly.

“Why did you come so suddenly?”

“Missed you.” Lu Yuzhi leaned close to Jing Yi, handing him chopsticks. “Eat first. You probably didn’t eat much at lunch, right?”

“Mm.” Jing Yi responded, taking the chopsticks and sampling a bite of the vegetarian dish.

The temple cook’s skills were exceptional—the thousand-layer tofu was tender, smooth, and delicious.

Jing Yi naturally fed a piece to Lu Yuzhi, who looked particularly hungry beside him. “You have some too.”

Lu Yuzhi ate the tofu in one bite, his amber eyes fixed intently on his young companion as he ate.

Jing Yi was dressed in a small suit, his fair skin pristine, his straight bangs neatly styled, perfectly embodying the image of an innocent young master from the Republican era.

“Why are you staring at me without saying anything?” Jing Yi set down his chopsticks, turning his head slightly with discomfort.

His lips glistened with a hint of oil, his eyes under the light reflecting confusion and innocence.

Lu Yuzhi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pulled the meal box closer.

Jing Yi thought Lu Yuzhi was going to do something with the box, but instead, Lu Yuzhi’s lips met his the next second.

There were still so many people around!

Jing Yi wanted to push Lu Yuzhi away, but as soon as his hands touched Lu Yuzhi’s chest, they were grasped firmly.

The kiss was lingering and moist.

Feeling Jing Yi holding his breath, Lu Yuzhi let out a low chuckle and released him. “Haven’t you learned to breathe yet?”

Jing Yi pressed his lips together, taking a couple of deep breaths before turning away. “You’re so unreasonable.”

Lu Yuzhi gazed at Jing Yi’s crimson earlobes, his eyes deepening.

“How is it excessive? Kissing someone I like isn’t excessive at all.” His voice was hoarse, suddenly softening with a hint of grievance. “It’s been so long since we last met. Have you stopped liking me?”

Jing Yi glanced at Lu Yuzhi’s amber eyes veiled with mist and lowered his gaze, murmuring softly, “No, I haven’t.”

Lu Yuzhi pressed his advantage: “Then why did you say you didn’t miss me at noon?”

“Because I was looking at you then.” Jing Yi tilted his head as he gazed at Lu Yuzhi. “When I’m looking at you, I don’t feel the need to miss you.”

The implied meaning was that he missed him when they weren’t together.

Lu Yuzhi’s gaze grew intense as he suppressed the restlessness in his heart. “Our Jing Yi is so well-behaved, but that makes me even more worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“Worried that someone might trick you away.”

Jing Yi said with complete seriousness, “I’m really an adult now. You shouldn’t always treat me like an innocent child.”

Human traffickers only abduct children anyway.

Their temple had taken in some children rescued from traffickers. They were too young – those children couldn’t remember where they came from, and the traffickers couldn’t remember where they’d taken them from either. In the end, they could only care for them temporarily. When the children grew older, they would bring them to town for a few days to see how other children lived, then ask if they wanted to stay at the temple.

Those who didn’t want to stay would be matched with kind-hearted devotees who had no children to adopt them.

He, Jing Yi, was already an adult – how could he possibly be taken by human traffickers?

Lu Yuzhi looked at Jing Yi’s slightly puffed cheeks and ruffled his soft black hair. “Let’s eat first. Do you have night scenes to film later? I’ll wait for you.”

“Okay.”

This time Jing Yi managed to finish his meal smoothly, because Lu Yuzhi was busy on his phone communicating with someone.

After eating, Jing Yi wiped his mouth with a tissue and returned to the makeup room for touch-ups according to the schedule.

Lu Yuzhi followed quietly the entire time, keeping a low profile.

The busy staff wouldn’t immediately notice Lu Yuzhi’s presence.

They filmed the night scenes like this until 9 pm.

After changing clothes, Jing Yi gathered his things with Lu Yuzhi.

Lu Yuzhi had brought a suitcase containing clothes and his computer.

“Are you staying here?” Jing Yi asked. “Have you finished handling company matters?”

“Yes, all done.” Lu Yuzhi waited for Jing Yi to open the door with his key card. “I can handle any urgent matters remotely through my computer.”

The company had long settled into a routine development pattern. Subordinates could handle minor decisions, while he only needed to issue orders for major ones. But relationships were different – you never knew when someone might take advantage of his absence.

Even if they wouldn’t succeed, Lu Yuzhi didn’t want his young partner to be coveted by others.

He placed his computer on the room’s desk and asked Jing Yi to shower first.

Jing Yi didn’t refuse, taking his pajamas into the bathroom.

Lu Yuzhi opened his computer to handle documents, but the sound of water from the bathroom made it impossible for him to concentrate.

The bathroom door at home was soundproof, unlike hotel bathrooms which typically had frosted glass construction with poor sound insulation, vaguely revealing silhouettes of people inside.

Frowning, Lu Yuzhi closed his computer and picked up his phone to browse Weibo instead.

The movie “Northern Night City” that Jing Yi had taken on had already begun promotion. It was an original script. The costume photos released on Weibo during the start of filming had mostly received positive responses from netizens.

Among them, Jing Yi’s fans were screaming about how well-behaved Jing Yi looked in his outfit, and official accounts tended to cater to popular demand, mostly posting photos of Jing Yi.

The top trending comment was from one of Jing Yi’s longtime fans: “I want to take Yi-zi home, he’s so adorable.”

Lu Yuzhi frowned slightly, glanced toward the bathroom, and decisively typed: “Mine, don’t even think about it.”

This comment was buried in the sea of copied replies and initially went unnoticed.

But soon someone spotted it, excitedly took a screenshot, and shared it in fan groups.

Various influencers saw it and rushed to reply under Lu Yuzhi’s comment: “Lu Shen, what nonsense are you talking? Last time Yi-zi didn’t even reply to you!”

“That’s right, Yi-zi even deleted his question. Lu Yuzhi, stop dreaming.”

Remembering the timing exposed in that Weibo incident, Lu Yuzhi curled his lips into a faint smile: Hah, ignorant netizens!

He walked to the corner, placed the black suitcase and the silver suitcase side by side, snapped a photo, and directly posted it on Weibo with the caption: “First day as an assistant, please guide me. @Jingyi” Fans were dumbfounded.

In the photo, the black suitcase appeared steady and elegant, while the smaller silver one was adorned with cartoon stickers.

It was obvious who their respective owners were.

And where the owners were currently staying was also quite clear.

“Ahhhhhhh, does this mean Lu Yuzhi went to Yi-zi’s film set to be his assistant? Their luggage is even in the same hotel room—what’s going on?!”

“What did I miss?!”

“Damn, we all thought you got rejected and were too heartbroken to bring it up again. How did you end up sharing a room with Yi-zi?”

Fans howled in excitement, each tagging Jing Yi.

But Jing Yi was showering and didn’t respond.

Imaginative fans questioned: “Lu Yuzhi, did you stage this photo? Are you going to pack up and sneak out later?”

“I think so too. Otherwise, given Yi-zi’s personality, why wouldn’t he reply to us?”

Lu Yuzhi felt somewhat indignant.

If he dared to say it, how could it be fake? Was he that pitiful?

Just then, Jing Yi finished his shower and stepped out, his hair dripping wet and his face flushed from the hot water.

Lu Yuzhi eagerly strode over and held out his palm.

Confused, Jing Yi placed his hand in Lu Yuzhi’s.

Lu Yuzhi found the right angle, snapped a photo, and sent it to Jing Yi via WeChat: “Good, post this picture on Weibo.”

Jing Yi turned to grab his phone, wondering what Lu Yuzhi meant.

Only when he opened Weibo did he realize his pinned post had been flooded by fans.

“Yi-zi, are you with Lu the Pitiful or not?”

“Yi-zi, why aren’t you saying anything? Is Lu the Pitiful lying?”

Who was Lu the Pitiful?

Jing Yi scrolled to the mention from Lu Yuzhi and clicked to view the Weibo post.

By then, Lu Yuzhi had already brought the hairdryer over, guiding a distracted Jing Yi to sit in a chair as he dried his hair.

Jing Yi’s hair felt soft and pleasant to touch.

While drying it, Lu Yuzhi glanced at Jing Yi’s phone screen.

Seeing Jing Yi scroll back and forth without posting, he urged, “Hurry up and clear my name.”

Jing Yi couldn’t help but laugh.

He tapped to create a new Weibo post, added the photo, and captioned it: “Lu the Pitiful wants to clear his name.”

Seeing the text, Lu Yuzhi paused in his hairdrying.

Jing Yi’s words carried a teasing tone no matter how you looked at them.

The fans saw the Weibo post too.

A pale hand, still glistening with droplets of water, rested lightly upon another broader, sun-kissed palm—the unspoken meaning behind the gesture was unmistakable.

“Holy cow, it’s actually real.”

“Damn, is Lu Yuzhi pitiful or what?”

“Singles taking critical damage here!”

Comments poured in, with several familiar acquaintances chiming in, mostly with words of blessing.

Jing Yi replied to each with thanks, while behind him, Lu Yuzhi remarked, “Let them say I’m pitiful, hmph.” His tone carried a distinct note of smugness.

Jing Yi smiled helplessly and casually browsed updates about the Calligraphy Association competition.

He had submitted his entry during the final collection period, sending it via express delivery that showed as delivered by midnight that same day. If the artistic standard was recognized by the association, using paintings to raise charitable funds would be a viable plan.

Just then, he noticed the competition results published online at 8 PM and clicked to view them.

There were six award winners listed, but his name was absent.

Lu Yuzhi, who had also seen the screen, frowned slightly.

He knew his grandfather’s discerning eye well—if he said Jing Yi’s painting would win an award, it undoubtedly should have.

This outcome was clearly problematic.