The Vicious Female Supporting Character Goes Viral After Her Masks Drop During the Talent Show - Chapter 48

Zhong Yan pulled out her phone. The name flickering on the screen was Yan Shi.

Knowing that it was inconvenient for her to take calls during the show, Yan Shi had never called her before. This was a first. Surprised, and thinking he might have an urgent work matter, she answered immediately.

“Hello, Yan Shi.”

Before she could ask what was wrong, a voice came through—worried, anxious, and tentative. “Teacher… Zhong? Are you alright?”

“Huh?” Zhong Yan was baffled. What could be wrong with her? She was eating well and sleeping soundly. “I’m fine. I’m great, actually. Why do you ask?”

“…The livestream just now. I saw you… you didn’t look happy. If you’re upset, you can talk to me. I’m willing to listen.”

Zhong Yan finally realized what he was worried about. “Oh, that,” she laughed. “I’m not unhappy. Don’t worry. It was a livestream—I needed some ‘dramatic effect.’ I was acting.”

Silence followed on the other end. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. Unsure of how to prove her lack of misery, she changed the subject. “Where are you? What are you doing?”

“I had a commercial shoot this afternoon. It finished in the evening, and now I’m…” He paused, his voice dropping an octave. “…I’m on my way home.”

“Right, the VG endorsement. Li Xing mentioned it.” VG was a major international luxury brand. Securing the domestic endorsement was one of the many high-tier resources Li Xing had negotiated for him after he signed with Yanxing Media. “Did the shoot go well?” she asked, ever the diligent boss.

“Yes. Everything went smoothly.”

“That’s good. Get home quickly and get some rest. I’m doing great, so stop worrying.”

“…Okay, then. You should rest early too. Call me if you need anything.” Yan Shi’s voice held a trace of lingering hesitation, but he finally conceded.

Zhong Yan’s dorm was on the third floor. She had been talking to him while climbing the stairs. Just as she reached the third-floor landing and prepared to say goodbye, a gentle evening breeze drifted through the open window. Her gaze followed the breeze, and she suddenly froze.

A familiar white van was parked near the back gate of the base. Below her dormitory building, a familiar figure was standing there, holding a phone.

Yan Shi was pacing outside the dorm building. He let out a soft sigh and was about to say “goodbye” when her voice came through the phone again.

“Yan Shi, you’re a liar.”

Yan Shi blinked. “What?”

“Is your ‘home’ located at the training base? Right under my dorm window?”

The voice in his ear was so close it felt like it wasn’t coming from the phone at all. Yan Shi looked up and saw Zhong Yan leaning against the third-floor window, looking down at him with a helpless smile. His ears turned red instantly. He lowered his head, his toe scuffing the ground awkwardly.

Zhong Yan went back downstairs.

“Li Xing told me your shoot was nowhere near Orchid Town,” she said, standing before him with a sigh. “Why did you come all this way?”

Embarrassed, Yan Shi cleared his throat. “During the stream, when you recalled those bad memories… I was worried you’d be sad. So I… I came.”

His worry had actually taken root the night of the third evaluation. That night, she had described her terrible experiences with such a flat expression and detached tone, as if those tragedies had nothing to do with her. Yan Shi feared her calm was a result of being hurt so often that she had become numb—just like he once was.

But he knew that numbness wasn’t the absence of pain; it was simply losing sensation because the pain had lasted too long. He didn’t want her to be like him. He wanted her to express her pain and share the burden. That was why he hadn’t hesitated to come the moment he saw her display sadness.

“Sorry, I just…” I just hoped that when you are in pain, I could be by your side to share it.

Zhong Yan looked into his eyes, but he seemed afraid to meet her gaze and couldn’t finish the sentence. She blinked and gave a soft smile. “Thank you.”

She knew Yan Shi had a gentle, sensitive heart. Because he had suffered similar traumas, he empathized deeply with the pain of being hurt by one’s own family. His concern warmed her.

However, she felt a bit guilty because she hadn’t actually been hurt. In the ten years since she had transmigrated into this world, she had never considered the Zhong family her true kin. During the stream, she was narrating “Zhong Yan’s” backstory from the perspective of a detached observer—partly truth, partly performance. She hadn’t fully projected herself into the role.

She was herself; “Zhong Yan” was “Zhong Yan.” They weren’t the same person.

Not wanting to deceive someone who genuinely cared for her, she tried to explain. “Actually, I don’t have much affection for my parents. I believe feelings should be given to those who deserve them. They don’t, so I’ve never taken what they do to heart. I don’t care about them…”

She trailed off. The more she spoke, the more she felt she sounded like a cold-blooded, heartless person. And that cold-blooded person was probably her true self.

Even in her past life, her parents had divorced early and started new families. She had spent most of her childhood with her grandmother, who wasn’t particularly warm toward her, preferring her uncle’s young son. After her grandmother passed and she graduated, she lived alone with little contact with her relatives. She didn’t yearn for romance or crave a family. She had always been indifferent to the bonds of kinship and love.

Fearing her “cold-blooded” nature might scare a kind soul like Yan Shi, she gave a sheepish, dry laugh. “Haha… so, about the livestream… I was mostly acting. I’m really not sad. I feel bad for making you come all this way for nothing. Sorry about that.”

“It wasn’t for nothing.”

Yan Shi listened quietly, and he actually seemed to relax. Zhong Yan looked up at him. The soft summer breeze tousled the hair on his forehead, softening the lines of his face. His ears were still slightly red, his eyes downcast, and a gentle curve touched his lips.

His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper to himself. “Seeing with my own eyes that you aren’t unhappy… makes the trip worth it.”

When Zhong Yan returned to the third-floor landing, she looked out the window again. Yan Shi was still there, looking up at her. She waved goodbye, gesturing for him to leave. He smiled and nodded, but his feet didn’t move.

To say she wasn’t touched by his words would be a lie. But after the initial warmth, she felt a strange sensation.

As an author and screenwriter, her professional intuition was screaming. A man travels a great distance just to see with his own eyes that a woman isn’t sad? This plot development… isn’t it a bit ambiguous?

This is exactly how I write romance when I want the leads to fall in love! she thought.

Wait… Yan Shi couldn’t possibly be falling for me, could he?

Zhong Yan sucked in a sharp breath and turned her face away from the window. She had never intended to seduce him! She had been kind to him partly out of pity—a way to build “good karma”—and partly for money. Her company was just starting; she needed a top-tier artist who would be loyal and make her a fortune.

She was after money and merit, not feelings. She hadn’t meant anything by it, so why did he seem to?

She scratched her head. Am I really that charming?

Then again, maybe she was just being conceited. Yan Shi was a very loyal person; perhaps he just saw her as his great benefactor and was being exceptionally protective? She mulled it over until she was exhausted, then decided to stop.

She turned and headed upstairs, refusing to look back. She would treat it as a misunderstanding on her part. She was busy trying to debut; she had no time to decipher the hearts of men.

The CEO’s Office. The phone lay on the desk, its screen black. Lu Tingshen had never managed to press the call button. He sat in the silence, watching the city lights outside. Eventually, the phone rang on its own.

He turned sharply, but the screen displayed a call from the Zhong family. He gave a silent, bitter laugh. He didn’t know what he had been expecting.

He answered. Zhong Jiamao and Shi Qian’s frantic voices poured out immediately. They apologized profusely, claiming Zhong Yan was “talking nonsense” online and causing trouble for the Lu family. They blamed themselves for not raising her better and letting her act so insolently.

They promised to find her immediately, teach her a lesson, make her retract her statements, and force her to apologize and withdraw from the show to save Dingming Group’s reputation. They insisted they wouldn’t let this “folly” affect the engagement.

Upon seeing the public reaction to the stream, the couple had first called Lu Tingshen’s parents, apologizing submissively for fear the Lu family would cancel the marriage in a fit of rage. However, the Lu parents were vague, stating that the marriage was primarily their son’s decision.

So, they turned to Lu Tingshen. They spoke until their throats were dry, but there was no response from the other end.

“Tingshen? Are you listening?” Zhong Jiamao asked. Still, silence.

Just as he thought the call had dropped, a voice finally came through.

“Cancel the engagement.”

“What?” Zhong Jiamao froze.

“The engagement between the Zhong and Lu families is cancelled. Do not go to her.”

Lu Tingshen’s voice was flat, devoid of anger or joy—like a pool of stagnant, dead water.

Zhong Jiamao and Shi Qian panicked. “Son-in-law! Don’t say things you don’t mean just because you’re angry! We know what she did was out of line, we’ll help you scold her—”

“The one who was out of line was never her. It was you.”

Lu Tingshen hung up. The choice between “Yes” and “No” finally had an answer. Yet, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of relief.