Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 38

Celebrities are often plagued by malicious rumors, and Yin Yunzhu was not one to believe such baseless hearsay. She simply extinguished her phone screen and leaned back in the passenger seat to rest.

“Sleepy?” Bai Jiali noticed her silence and specifically lowered the volume of the car radio.

Having already slept on the plane, Yin Yunzhu wasn’t actually sleepy; she just wanted a moment of peace. She let out a soft “mm” from her throat.

“So, are we still going to eat?” Her friend slowed the car down.

Bai Jiali had intended to welcome her back with a meal, but since the traveler seemed disinterested, the dinner likely wouldn’t be a happy one anyway.

“Just take me home,” Yin Yunzhu said, opening her eyes and sitting up. “Tiancheng Apartments.”

Tiancheng Apartments was not far from the city center. The houses in the old district were prized for being near schools, causing property prices to soar. The evening light stained the horizon as neon and streetlights began to interweave.

After the car parked, Yin Yunzhu slung the cat carrier over her shoulder. The orange cat was a hearty eater and quite sturdy; its heavy weight pressed into her shoulder, causing her to stagger and nearly fall as she exited the vehicle.

“Help me grab the snacks from the trunk, they are all for Yin Xuan!” Bai Jiali poked her head out from the driver’s seat and called out a reminder.

Yin Yunzhu opened the trunk and saw a large bag stuffed to the brim with snacks. She sighed helplessly. “Every time you see her, you bring snacks, and she never appreciates it. Why bother?”

It was strange; at home and at school, Yin Xuan was a little terror, yet she was shy and quiet around strangers. Strangely, she never gave Bai Jiali a kind look, showing zero gratitude for the treats.

“Girls this age love snacks. I’m just buying them to satisfy her cravings,” Bai Jiali said, stepping out of the car and twirling her keys. “When we were her age, our parents wouldn’t buy them for us. We can’t mistreat the next generation.”

The two chatted as they climbed the stairs. At the door, Yin Yunzhu reached into her pocket only to realize she had forgotten her keys. She knocked instead.

“Who is it?” Yin Xuan’s bright, crisp voice rang out from behind the door.

“It’s me.” Yin Yunzhu saw the light in the peephole dim, and then the handle turned.

Yin Xuan’s small head popped out. She first sized up Bai Jiali before her round eyes landed on her older sister.

“Why are you the only one here?” Bai Jiali used her foot to hold the door open and squeezed inside.

“Dad came back. He went out with Mom,” the young girl replied, clutching the bag of snacks to her chest.

Yin Yunzhu was just letting Xiaoyu out of the carrier when she stopped in surprise. “Dad’s back?”

Since Chen Haidong went to work in another city, he was never home except for major holidays. Given the unpleasantness with Madam Shan during the New Year, his return didn’t make sense; her stubborn mother wouldn’t have reconciled this quickly.

Her intuition told her something was wrong, but considering Yin Xuan was there, she swallowed the words she wanted to say.

With the elders gone, Bai Jiali relaxed, pulling the girl over to watch a popular cartoon. The exaggerated sound effects of the animation mixed with the crunching of snacks. The two were so focused they didn’t notice Yin Yunzhu walking toward the balcony.

The window wasn’t shut tightly, and the wind squeezed through the gap, blowing against the hanging laundry. The faint scent of detergent filled the dim hallway.

Yin Yunzhu stood by the plant rack and clicked into the message she had sent to Jiang Menghe hours ago.

Student Xiao Zhu: I’m back in Quancheng.

No reply. Assuming it was the crew’s dinner break, she gathered her courage and called her. Even if it was inconvenient, Ye Xiyang would be holding the phone and could hang up if necessary.

The ringing lasted a long time. She toyed with the drooping, yellowed leaves of a spider plant, nervously waiting.

“I’m sorry, the number you dialed is busy.”

She had been hung up on.

Jiang Menghe rested her hands on the table. Seeing the caller ID, she quickly disconnected the call.

Sitting opposite her, Jiang Shiyun was smiling brightly. “You two have such a good relationship, even calling each other while apart.”

“It’s not ordinary at all.” Her index finger tapped the table irregularly, the picture of leisure.

In the bustling cafe, their private booth used a lattice partition that allowed the ambient noise to mask their conversation. The steam from their two cups of coffee had long since dissipated. Between them lay a photograph.

“Seeing as you’re returning to Quancheng soon, I wouldn’t have another chance if I didn’t find you now,” Jiang Shiyun tapped the photo. “Have you thought it over?”

In the photo, a man crouched by some bushes downstairs, looking around while smoking. His face was a blurry mess. Jiang Shiyun previously couldn’t do much with a transaction record; even if she used it to threaten Jiang Menghe, the actress had excuses to counter it.

But this photo? This was undeniable.

“Huang Shuang. Imprisoned ten years ago for fraud. Exactly when you filmed your first movie. Paparazzi have been digging for years, saying you only act to pay off your father’s debts. Who knew it was actually true?”

Jiang Shiyun leaned forward, her alluring eyes full of intense mockery. “Jiang Menghe, your father was a convict.”

“He just got out a few days ago, didn’t he? No wonder you ran to Pingcheng; you’re probably hiding from him.” The woman picked up the photo and flicked it. “Agree to my conditions, and I’ll have the people over there delete the post sitting in their drafts.”

Jiang Menghe looked up at Jiang Shiyun’s vivid face. Her deep eyes remained calm, showing no ripples of emotion.

Suddenly, she broke into a smile. “That’s not quite right. How do I remember that you and your someone even had a child together?”

“Then it’s a race to see whose hands are faster and whose PR is better,” Jiang Shiyun shrugged, casually throwing the photo in front of her. “I have her behind me. You? You have no one.”

“What are the conditions?”

“He Ping will be scouting for the female lead of her new film soon. She’s quite fond of you. If you receive an invitation, you must refuse it.”

Everyone in the industry coveted He Ping’s new project. Even if it didn’t make them a superstar, it would at least secure their place in the first tier and guarantee future roles. Especially for someone like Jiang Shiyun, who had been obscure for years and barely stayed relevant through PR and bought trending searches.

“If she doesn’t choose me, why go to all this trouble today?” Jiang Menghe smiled faintly, staring at the dissipating foam in the other’s coffee.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jiang Shiyun sneered. “Does it affect me? Since you’ve considered it, don’t let your guard down before the casting is finalized.”

The conversation leaned heavily toward her victory, and Jiang Shiyun’s expression betrayed a hint of triumphalism. She didn’t expect Jiang Menghe to interrupt her directly.

“I’m sorry. I never said I agreed. I have to rehearse with the other leads later, so I won’t be staying.”

Jiang Menghe’s attitude was deferential. As she stood, a gentle, harmless smile played on her lips. She had let Jiang Shiyun indulge in her fantasy for a long time before ruthlessly shattering it, like a wild cat batting at a prey in its palm.

She left Jiang Shiyun standing there, her face turning a mix of blue and white with embarrassment.

“Don’t you regret this!” Jiang Shiyun hissed through her teeth.

The tall, slender figure walked out the door, the tinkling of the bell breaking the silence of the night. This area was the snack street of the film base; during the peak season, it was full of life and tourists.

Jiang Menghe walked slowly toward the parking lot, one hand in her pocket. Remembering Yin Yunzhu’s call, she took out her phone to call back. The unfamiliar number had no contact name, but she felt it was her.

Her finger hovered for a moment before moving from reject to accept.

“Menghe, where are you now?” A man’s raspy voice, hoarse from years of smoking, came from the other end, like coarse sand rubbing against smooth glass.

“In Pingcheng.” Jiang Menghe didn’t rush into her car, instead walking under a streetlight.

Upon hearing this, the man, who had been calm, suddenly exploded in rage. “What are you doing in Pingcheng? Get back here!”

His volatile attitude made it impossible to guess what he was thinking. It had always been like this; Jiang Menghe constantly had to read his face and guess his thoughts. Every day was like walking on thin ice. It was exhausting.

She used to be terrified, but as she grew older, she had become more steady and learned to use slippery, evasive words to deflect.

“I’m filming. Don’t you want money?” She opened her coat to find her cigarettes, only to realize the pack was empty. When she saw Yin Yunzhu last night, there were few left. In just one day, she had smoked that many.

With a sigh, Jiang Menghe tossed the pack into a trash can. “Dad, I’m earning money for you to spend.”

Her tone was so airy it seemed a gust of wind could blow it away, giving a sense of unreality.

The man on the other end seemed stunned. Jiang Menghe had always been cold toward him, never even initiating contact. This was the first time she had shown even a semblance of concern.

Such a strange attitude would normally spark suspicion, but the man had just been released from prison. Combined with his previous threats, he assumed she was simply surrendering because she lacked family affection and was tired of being pressured.

A sense of smugness rose in his heart.

“Menghe, now this is a family,” Huang Shuang said with satisfaction. “I won’t hold the things you did to me in the past against you anymore.”

“From now on, we father and daughter will support each other. As long as you’re willing to provide for me, I promise I won’t appear in the public eye for the rest of my life, letting you be a big star in peace.”

His promises always had conditions, usually involving money.

“Of course.” Jiang Menghe crushed a fallen leaf beneath her foot, her eyes downcast to hide the shifting emotions within. It seemed everyone could threaten her now: Jiang Shiyun, and even a bottom-feeder like Huang Shuang.

Seeing her response, Huang Shuang was overjoyed. He hesitated before saying, “Menghe, my hands are a bit tied lately, you see…”

Having played the emotional card, the man took on a pathetic tone, a clear tactic to win Jiang Menghe’s sympathy.

The light stretched Jiang Menghe’s shadow. She curled her lips. “How much?”

“Three hundred thousand… would that be okay?” Huang Shuang watched her mood carefully, afraid of cutting off his source of income. Even if threats worked, he didn’t want to go to extremes. A mutual destruction might trip Jiang Menghe up, but it was far less comfortable than a peaceful coexistence.

Silence followed. Panicked, the man quickly changed his tune. “Two hundred thousand. Two hundred thousand is enough. I promise I’ll pay you back once I earn some money.”

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand, okay?” Jiang Menghe’s face was hidden in the darkness.

The result was unexpected. Huang Shuang felt a flicker of fear, but greed quickly drowned out his reason. He nodded repeatedly. “Good! That’s good!”

After hanging up, Jiang Menghe looked at the call duration, her expression dark and unreadable. The desire to talk to Yin Yunzhu had vanished. She clicked into the chat box.

Juhe: I was busy just now and didn’t see your message.

In her living room, Yin Yunzhu was reading the revision requirements sent by He Ping. Seeing the message, she quickly sat up.

Student Xiao Zhu: Remember to balance work and rest.

Unknown if it was her imagination, but their topics of conversation seemed to be dwindling. Since Jiang Menghe went to Pingcheng, their moments of intimacy had become fewer. Contrary to normal couples, physical closeness was the lubricant of their relationship. Now, without the lingering affection, the passion felt like water being squeezed from a sponge.

Usually, there were only trivial concerns, but even Bai Jiali could provide those. She wanted to be closer to Jiang Menghe. She wanted to permeate her life, knowing both her joys and her troubles.

Jiang Menghe was likely exhausted and didn’t reply to her. Worried she might have fallen asleep, Yin Yunzhu didn’t dare call again and risk waking her.

Meanwhile, Bai Jiali and Yin Xuan were in a heated debate over whether a newly introduced character was a hero or a villain, their faces flushed with the intensity of the argument.

“I don’t believe it! She looks so pretty!” the little girl shouted.

“The prettier they are, the more dangerous they are,” Bai Jiali countered. “Do you think bad people just write ‘I am evil’ on their foreheads?”

“I don’t care, I don’t care! I believe she won’t hurt the fairy sister.”

Amidst their bickering, the sound of a key turning came from the entryway. Yin Yunzhu looked over to see Shan Songyue changing her shoes, carrying grocery bags from the supermarket downstairs.

“Why are you back so late?” Yin Yunzhu walked over and took the heavy bags from her.

“Why didn’t you say anything about coming home?” Shan Songyue asked in surprise, then caught sight of the big and small figures “fighting” on the sofa. “Oh, Jiali is here too!”

“Hello, Auntie Shan,” Bai Jiali said, quickly straightening her posture and holding down Yin Xuan’s head to stop her from squirming.

Yin Xuan rolled her eyes but didn’t push her luck. She trotted to the door. “Mama!” Then she looked behind her mother. “Where’s Papa? Why didn’t he come back with you?”

A flash of unnaturalness crossed Shan Songyue’s face. She turned to Yin Yunzhu. “These are clams from the supermarket. I picked the live ones. Put them in a basin to spit out the sand.”

“Oh,” Yin Yunzhu said, sensing her mother’s reluctance to mention her father. She pulled Yin Xuan over. “You, come help too.”

In the kitchen sink, Yin Xuan stood on a stool, making her almost as tall as Yin Yunzhu. Seeing her sister poking at the small shells, she asked curiously, “Sister, where do you think Papa went?”

“Stop asking things you shouldn’t,” Yin Yunzhu replied. The sound of running water masked their conversation. She sensed it wasn’t anything good and preferred to keep it from the child.

“Everyone is being so mysterious…” Yin Xuan pouted and grumbled.

The sliding door creaked open, and Bai Jiali poked her head in. Seeing her as a savior, Yin Yunzhu immediately pushed the little girl toward her.

“Take her away, she’s just getting in the way here,” Yin Yunzhu said, dropping her usual gentle persona.

“Who’s getting in the way? You’re the one who told me to come, and now I can’t even ask a question!” Yin Xuan huffed, jumped off the stool, and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door.

Despite her young age, she was as stubborn as an ox. Bai Jiali, nearly knocked aside by her exit, asked worriedly, “Did you and little Xuan fight?”

“She kept asking about my dad. How was I supposed to answer?” Yin Yunzhu washed her hands and dried them with a towel.

She instinctively frowned. The night air drifted through the screen window, laying a layer of silver over the cream-colored tiles.

“She’s just a kid; it’s normal she can’t read the room,” Bai Jiali said, stepping in and patting her shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on her, she takes things to heart easily.” She paused. “Last time I told you they were fighting and your dad wasn’t coming home… I guess this time.”

“They were fighting during the New Year too,” Yin Yunzhu said, leaning against the counter. The light from the hallway couldn’t quite pierce through her heavy mood.

“Maybe they just have a disagreement? My parents fight every day, and life goes on, doesn’t it?” Bai Jiali said earnestly, sounding like a middle-aged veteran of life. “Coming back from Pingcheng has made you too sentimental. You should go out more, meet new people.”

Yin Yunzhu pushed her hand off her shoulder and said helplessly, “Are you trying to play matchmaker again?”

“Don’t make it sound so ugly,” Jiali pouted. “I’m just looking out for you. The people I recommend have all been vetted, okay?”

Since they were children, Yin Yunzhu had always been the most inconspicuous one in the crowd. As her best friend, Bai Jiali saw it all and constantly worried she’d be bullied. Now that Yin was in her mid-twenties and spent all her time cooped up at home, Jiali who was often busy with work felt she had to intervene.

“And that time at the bar?” Yin Yunzhu’s question silenced her.

“That was an accident! It was a party organized by colleagues. Who knew they were all trash? I couldn’t pick a single good one,” Bai Jiali argued back. “Just go and meet this one. The person I picked is definitely better than the ones Auntie Shan finds. Just do it for me?”

Yin Yunzhu couldn’t stand her pleading face. She turned to the fridge and grabbed a Yakult. The fridge light cast a cold tone over her profile.

“I’m not going.”

Her heart was currently entirely occupied by Jiang Menghe; she had no energy left for pleasantries with other men.

In the warmth of March, the early morning mists that used to linger had begun to dissipate.

After discussing with her editor, Yin Yunzhu successfully signed the contract with He Ping’s studio. The details of the first draft of the script still needed a face-to-face meeting for revisions.

He Ping’s studio wasn’t large, located in a three-story residential area with an elevator. Yin followed the navigation to the second floor, where she saw the assistant on the phone at the door. Catching sight of Yin, the assistant hurriedly finished her call. Yin Yunzhu was dressed in a pink hoodie and light blue jeans, looking youthful and full of life.

“Teacher Yin, Director He is inside.” The assistant pressed the code lock and opened the door.

Near the entrance stood a wooden table with exquisite, antique tea sets. Behind it, a shelf was packed with famous published books. Upstairs, the sound of shuffling mahjong tiles could be heard. The assistant poured her a cup of tea and smiled apologetically. “Director He has this one hobby. Sit here for a moment, and I’ll go call her.”

Before leaving, she pulled a notebook from the shelf. “These are revision suggestions from Director He’s screenwriter friend. You can take a look first.”

Yin Yunzhu thanked her and took the notebook. Hearing heavy footsteps from above, she flipped it open. Red ink notes were scattered everywhere—detailed, dense revision suggestions that were more rigorous than her college thesis advisor.

The more she looked, the more embarrassed she felt. While there were often criticisms from the outside, Yin had always focused on her own work and never thought her writing was “bad.” However, seeing all the rejections in the notes, she began to feel small.

Bloody scenes needed major overhauls; the villains’ endings had to be handled more mildly; the leads’ intimate scenes had to be subtle, preferably using indirect descriptions… just these few examples made the revision process look daunting.

Director He came downstairs in a loose shirt. “You’re early! I was just playing mahjong with friends.” She pulled out a chair opposite Yin.

“Director He, do all of these have to be changed?” Yin Yunzhu asked, panicked by the notes that seemed longer than her original text.

If so, the workload would be massive, perhaps even exceeding the energy it took to create the book in the first place.

Seeing her worry, the woman laughed. “By the time the approval comes through, there will be other screenwriters. You won’t be doing all of this alone.”

Scripts and books were entirely different animals. Removing most descriptions and explanations while integrating dialogue and action was a test for both the actors and the screenwriters.

“Go back and extract the character dialogues and scenes, then convert them into script format. As for the supporting characters and minor roles, I’ll discuss the casting with the studio. If you have someone in mind, you can recommend them to me.”

After a few more instructions, Yin Yunzhu left the studio feeling dizzy. Too many words were swimming before her eyes. No wonder Ke Rubing hadn’t been keen on physical publication; she must have suffered through this before.

I have to change so much… and this is just the first draft.

She put the notebook in the passenger seat and drove back to the Xinwu Apartments. Just as she parked, she saw a woman walking toward her.

Jiang Menghe had returned to Quancheng at some unknown point. Stripped of her sharp trench coat, her thin shirt made her look slender and fragile, as if a breeze could blow her over. Yet, she still carried an unyielding strength.

She walked around the front of the car and tapped on the window. Yin Yunzhu rolled it down, her face full of surprise. “You’re back! Why didn’t you tell me?”

The faint light reflected in Yin’s round eyes, full of anticipation. Jiang Menghe looked at her, but her dark pupils seemed to hold no reflection.

Seeing her silence, Yin Yunzhu unbuckled her seatbelt and got out. “What’s wrong? Are you too tired?”

She reached for Jiang Menghe’s hand, finding the knuckles red with cold. She rubbed them between her own to warm them, then reached for the woman’s face. She had never seen Jiang Menghe look so defeated, like a withered plant losing its grip.

The unspoken distance of the past few days suddenly turned into a wave of unnamable fear for Yin Yunzhu. She opened her mouth to speak, but seeing the cold, frost-like gaze, she stopped.

“Jiang Menghe…” she leaned in, trying to grab onto something, and kissed the corner of her mouth.

Jiang Menghe turned her face slightly, so the fleeting kiss landed on her cheek, leaving behind a trace of familiar warmth. She let out a helpless sigh and cupped Yin Yunzhu’s face, her voice raspy.

“Yin Yunzhu, I have something to tell you.” The woman’s tone was as gentle as ever, but it felt like a dull knife grinding against Yin’s heart.

After being ignored for days and having her expectations crushed over and over, Yin Yunzhu’s eyes widened. Guessing what was coming, she took two steps back to create distance.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered the possibility of Jiang Menghe getting bored and wanting to end things, but the memory of that faint yet sincere “I like you” in the hotel had been enough to dispel her doubts.

“I… I don’t want to hear it,” Yin Yunzhu said, her lips pale and trembling.

“Yin Yunzhu, be good.” Jiang Menghe held her shoulders, trying to soothe her like a child.

“I won’t listen!” Yin Yunzhu struggled violently, her eyes rimmed with red.

Helplessly, the woman pulled her by the waist, burying her face in Yin’s hair to catch her scent, then tentatively began to seal her protests with a kiss.

Even in farewell, Jiang Menghe was utterly gentle.

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