Never Forget - Chapter 17

Ye Zhuyi was overjoyed. She stared at the screen without blinking, making sure she hadn’t misread it. Zhenzhen had actually sent her a friend request. Without a moment’s hesitation, her trembling finger tapped “Accept.”

The chat window displayed only two system messages below Qin Zhizhen’s name:

[This is the greeting message.] [You have added Zz. You can now start chatting.]

What should she say? She should probably start with a polite greeting, right?

Ye Zhuyi ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. She felt like a complete beginner who had just learned how to use WeChat today, anxious and unsure of what to send. Whenever she dealt with Qin Zhizhen, her mind simply crashed.

Ye Zhuyi stood frozen in the entryway, one foot still in her outdoor casual shoe and the other in the slipper she’d just changed into. She clutched her phone, searching for the perfect sticker before finally typing a greeting in the chat window.

11: [Hello, Teacher Qin! (cute face)]

Immediately after, she sent an animated sticker of a clumsy panda cub bowing, then tripping and rolling over.

11: [Thank you for giving me a ride home, Teacher Qin.]

After waiting a long time with no reply from Qin Zhizhen, Ye Zhuyi finally took off her shoes and went inside. She plugged her phone into the charger, deciding to stop staring at the screen for a while.

Her overwhelming joy gradually subsided, and Ye Zhuyi’s mind finally cleared. She was now certain that Qin Zhizhen had intentionally disabled the “Add Friend via Group Chat” feature.

She probably hates how I fawned over Chen Ming at the end, Ye Zhuyi thought. That’s why she won’t add me.

Deeply grateful to Lian Rong for asking the question and giving her a chance to clear up the misunderstanding, Ye Zhuyi decided she would prepare a gift for Lian Rong when she joined the production team. With that thought, she headed into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, the very person Ye Zhuyi was so grateful for—Lian Rong—was still dutifully acting as her driver. Lian Rong wrinkled her nose, then quickly grabbed a tissue to cover her face and sneeze.

Qin Zhizhen, who had been resting with her eyes closed, opened them and said with concern, “Turn up the air conditioning.”

“No need, no need. I’m not cold, I just suddenly felt a sneeze coming on,” Lian Rong replied half-jokingly. “Maybe someone’s thinking of me.”

Qin Zhizhen let out a soft snort. She glanced at the red light ahead and asked, “Why did you ask Ye Zhuyi about paying the bill?”

Lian Rong stepped on the brakes as they reached the intersection and stopped the car. She scratched her cheek, hesitated for a moment, and then explained, “I was just curious. With Teacher Ye’s current status, it’s pretty rare for her to fight to pay the bill. And she even beat Teacher Qin to it, hehe.”

Lian Rong didn’t dare tell Qin Zhizhen she’d been watching them the whole time. She’d been Qin Zhizhen’s assistant since graduation and had worked with her for three years. She knew Qin Zhizhen’s likes and dislikes so well that she could tell immediately that Qin Zhizhen had misunderstood Ye Yaoyao.

It was understandable for someone who didn’t know Ye Yaoyao to misunderstand her, but Lian Rong was a fan! She knew the truth!

Ye Yaoyao was so laid-back, unlike those other female artists who plotted and schemed for fame and fortune. Besides, Lian Rong hadn’t had enough of shipping them yet. She had to help them get together.

Through the rearview mirror, Qin Zhizhen noticed Lian Rong’s eyes darting around as she spoke. Her explanation sounded plausible, but it was definitely more than just curiosity. Qin Zhizhen looked away, watching the busy street outside the car, and said calmly, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

For an assistant to ask another artist such a question was a bit overstepping.

Lian Rong was still a little afraid of displeasing Qin Zhizhen, so she apologized sincerely. “Teacher Qin, I was wrong.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Qin Zhizhen said.

“Yes, I understand,” Lian Rong promised earnestly. “There won’t be a next time. I promise I won’t ask anything inappropriate again.

Qin Zhizhen rubbed her temples, feeling a bit guilty. If Lian Rong hadn’t asked, she wouldn’t have heard Ye Zhuyi’s answer, and she might not have let go of her prejudice against Ye Zhuyi so quickly.

It was strange. Why did she feel such a strong emotional reaction to this person? If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have any opinion of them, let alone a prejudice.

Qin Zhizhen unlocked her phone and saw the message from Ye Zhuyi. The animated panda sticker was so adorably clumsy. She pressed and held the screen to save the sticker.

Watching the panda trip and tumble, Qin Zhizhen suddenly remembered how Ye Zhuyi had missed her step on the stairs three times, and twice she had fallen right into her arms. Ye Zhuyi smelled of fresh, crisp bamboo—a light, pleasant scent.

Without her facade, Ye Zhuyi was actually quite cute. She had a fair, bright, and beautiful face that softened into a sweet expression when she smiled, especially with those two charming dimples and eyes like glass beads.

It feels familiar…

Qin Zhizhen frowned and rubbed her aching temples. She glanced at the panda sticker in the chat box again, then typed and sent two messages.

Zz: [It was on my way. No need to be polite.]

Zz: [Could you share the link for the panda slippers with me?]

After showering and drying her hair, Ye Zhuyi picked up her phone and couldn’t help but chuckle at the message. Lian Rong had said she was a terrible sense of direction because she had walked in the completely wrong direction. When Lian Rong drove her back, she even had to make a U-turn. Qin Zhizhen’s home was in the opposite direction of hers. How could it possibly be on her way?

Asking for the link… Does that mean she added me as a friend just for the panda slippers?

So childish yet so cute. It’s almost unfair!

Ye Zhuyi suddenly noticed the two profile pictures in the chat window: a hand-drawn panda and a hand-drawn bamboo shoot. Even though the art styles were completely different, they looked like a matching pair.

Though it might be wishful thinking, her hidden little crush was secretly reaching out. A joyful dimple appeared on Ye Zhuyi’s cheek, impossible to suppress.

Ye Zhuyi lay on her bed, kicking her legs and resting her left ankle on her right. Propping herself up on her elbows, she scrolled through her purchase history, found the panda slippers, and shared the link.

11: [The size runs small, so buy one size up.]

After a short while, Qin Zhizhen replied.

Zz: [Thanks.]

11: [Teacher Qin, have you reached home yet?]

Qin Zhizhen didn’t reply again.

Maybe Zhenzhen was busy with something, or maybe she had already gone to sleep. Ye Zhuyi came up with all sorts of reasonable excuses, but she still couldn’t stop herself from constantly checking for new messages.

After waiting for over ten minutes with no new reply, Ye Zhuyi lowered her legs, rolled over, and tapped into Qin Zhizhen’s Moments.

The cover photo was of a Pomeranian with big, watery eyes. Its fur was trimmed neat and clean, making it look round and adorable.

Qin Zhizhen’s Moments was set to “visible for six months.” Aside from daily shares of a puzzle game and photos and videos of the Pomeranian, there were pitifully few posts about her personal life.

On February 2nd, Qin Zhizhen shared a picture of the Lotus Seed Paste Buns Lian Rong had made. On March 14th, she checked into a trendy dessert shop and reviewed it as “The plum-flavored ice cream is a disaster.” On April 6th, she posted, “Giving this new milk tea flavor a ‘disgusting’ stamp,” with a photo of her slender hand pressing a cartoon stamp onto the cup. On May 28th, she posted a photo of her back on a red carpet at an international film festival. She wore a crimson backless gown, and beneath her long hair, the straight line of her spine and the butterfly-like shape of her shoulder blades were faintly visible. The caption read: “I can finally get a cupping massage tomorrow. [smile].” After that, there was only a birthday greeting for Qin Zhenghong from a few days ago.

The image of the “aloof goddess” seemed like it could crumble at any moment. Ye Zhuyi read through these few posts over and over again, her eyes filled with gentleness and affection.

Just as Ye Zhuyi saved the photo to her local album, a new message notification popped up. She shot up from the bed and immediately switched to the chat interface. Qin Zhizhen’s reply was already on the screen.

Zz: [I’m home]

Before Ye Zhuyi could think of a reply, another message from Qin Zhizhen popped up.

Zz: [I was in the shower]

This extra explanation warmed Ye Zhuyi’s heart. A smile spread across her face as she read the words, but it quickly froze. She didn’t know what to say next.

It would be rude not to reply, and she really wanted to keep chatting with Zhenzhen. But what could she possibly say? Tease him about his shower? No, that was too flirtatious. Ask what he was doing now? That sounded too nosy.

After racking her brain for a while, Ye Zhuyi finally sent: “Teacher Qin, did you buy those slippers?”

A classic case of talking just to have something to say.

After sending it, Ye Zhuyi buried her face in her soft pillow, as if trying to smother herself with it.

But after just a few seconds, she couldn’t resist peeking out to see if he had replied.

Zz: [I did]

Just as Ye Zhuyi was struggling to find another topic, Qin Zhizhen sent another message.

Zz: [Go claim the red envelopes]

The production crew’s group chat was buzzing with activity. Some were praising Chen Ming in a flurry of mutual flattery, while others were engaged in a meme war with Xu Qingfeng. Red envelopes were being sent continuously, but Ye Zhuyi hadn’t bothered to join in, staying quiet and lurking in the background.

11: [I’m not really interested in red envelopes. (Scratch Head.jpg)]

Zz: [I’ll send one.]

???

Ye Zhuyi shot up from her kneeling position, clutching her phone as she sent a panda waving and saying, “On my way!” Just as she switched back to the crew group chat, Qin Zhizhen happened to be sending out a red envelope.

Her speed was inversely proportional to her luck. Ye Zhuyi was the first to claim Qin Zhizhen’s red envelope, but she received the smallest amount. Qin Zhizhen had probably referenced the red envelopes sent by the previous male actors, so she didn’t send too much to avoid stealing the spotlight, but it wasn’t a small amount either. Yet, Ye Zhuyi only got 0.1 yuan.

Though the amount was small, Ye Zhuyi’s heart felt like it was filled with honey, so sweet it could be pulled like syrup. If Zhenzhen hadn’t reminded her, she probably wouldn’t have even claimed the ten cents.

Qin Zhizhen had intended to send a fixed amount but accidentally selected the “random” option. She hadn’t expected Ye Zhuyi’s luck to be so bad and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She had even reminded her to claim the red envelope, yet Ye Zhuyi ended up with only 0.1 yuan. What a mess.

Feeling bad, Qin Zhizhen sent Ye Zhuyi a private red envelope.

Ye Zhuyi didn’t claim it.

Zz: [Claim it.]

11: [No need, Teacher Qin. I already claimed the one in the group chat. (Happy)]

A dozen or so people in the group chat began spamming “hug the thigh” memes, and Ye Zhuyi followed suit.

When she switched back to her private chat with Qin Zhizhen, she stared at the new message, her ears slowly turning red.

Zz: [You’re already hugging my thigh, so just take it.]

“If I take it, can I hug your real thigh?” Ye Zhuyi typed the words, her heart racing. Suddenly snapping back to her senses, she quickly deleted the message.

She took a deep breath and slumped her shoulders, letting out a slow, heavy sigh. She tapped the red envelope. 200 yuan. It was the maximum amount for a single red packet, yet she felt less excited than when she’d received 0.1 yuan.

Ye Zhuyi sent a bowing kitten emoji. She couldn’t help but ask, “Did you send a private one to everyone, Teacher Qin?”

Qin Zhizhen was replying to messages in the crew group chat. She handled the mix of blatant flattery and veiled insults with effortless grace. Though her responses were brief, they remained poised and professional.

Even in a few short sentences, it was clear she was on a completely different level from the others. Through the screen, Ye Zhuyi could almost see the calm and composed Qin Zhizhen watching the clowns jump and dance.

After about ten minutes, Ye Zhuyi noticed that Qin Zhizhen had stopped replying to the group chat. A moment later, she received a private message.

Zz: [Not everyone is as lucky as you.]

Ye Zhuyi beamed, her heart fluttering with joy.

11: [[Pouting emoji] Thank you, Teacher Qin.]

Zz: [You’re welcome. Go to bed early.]

She doesn’t want to talk anymore, does she? Ye Zhuyi’s gaze dimmed. She glanced at the time on her screen and smiled, feeling a sense of relief. It was almost midnight, so it was indeed late. She carefully typed “Goodnight” and sent it to Qin Zhizhen.

Qin Zhizhen didn’t reply right away.

Ye Zhuyi turned off the lights, lay down, and checked her phone one last time, but there was still no response.

Maybe she’s already asleep.

Just as Ye Zhuyi was about to place her phone on the nightstand, the dark screen suddenly lit up. She unlocked it and tapped into WeChat.

Zz: [Hmm.]

What a stingy person, so reluctant to even say goodnight.

Ye Zhuyi pouted and set her phone aside, but a happy smile still tugged at her lips. She squeezed the heart-shaped pendant of her necklace tightly in her palm. The sharp point stung slightly, but it served as a reminder that everything that had made her so joyful today was real.

Good night, Zhenzhen.

Support