Liang Jin’s filming had finally settled into a steady rhythm.
Zheng Yunzhi had handed over his directorial authority on set to someone else. He didn’t dare call Zeng Zhi, nor did he bring up their previous unpleasant spat. But as the director, he still had a firm grip on the overall shooting schedule, and every detail of the production depended on him.
That morning, Liang Jin had a scene where she fell into the water. He deliberately made her reshoot it fifteen times.
The crew gathering from the night before was still fresh in everyone’s minds. Quite a few people on set had initially been wary of the rumors that “Liang Jin had powerful backing” and had wanted to persuade Director Zheng not to “offend anyone important.” But when they saw Liang Jin soaked to the bone without a word of complaint, they all shut their mouths.
Director Zheng’s stance was crystal clear: “Liang Jin, if you don’t meet my standards, we’ll reshoot. If you can’t handle it, step aside yourself.”
Liang Jin had just changed out of her wet clothes in the dressing room. Her face was still pale as she rubbed her damp long hair with a towel and pressed her trembling lips together.
But Director Zheng wasn’t done with her yet.
Liang Jin lowered her gaze and asked, “Does that last take count?”
She had done quite a few retakes already, chalking it up to Zheng Yunzhi’s perfectionism, and her performance had been consistent throughout.
Zheng Yunzhi let out a cold snort. “It counts.”
His attitude toward Liang Jin was nowhere near as patient as it was with Jiang Manyu. He double-checked the details repeatedly and, finding no flaws, grudgingly offered praise. “Not bad. On to the next scene.”
Liang Jin was packing up her things to leave when Zheng Yunzhi tossed out a casual remark from behind her. “Your mom sued Liang Wenbin for you.”
It was news to Liang Jin. The young woman blinked in confusion, turning back in her simple oversized long-sleeved shirt. “Sued him?”
Zheng Yunzhi seemed reluctant to say more.
Liang Jin pressed, “When did this happen?”
Before divorcing, Liang Wenbin had transferred most of his assets away. At the time, Liang Jin had strongly urged Zeng Zhi to sue for the return of their shared marital property, but Zeng Zhi had refused.
Zeng Zhi had said they were childhood sweethearts; she didn’t want to pursue it too far.
Zheng Yunzhi’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Go dry your hair, Liang Jin. Don’t think having backing means you can waste everyone’s time.”
Liang Jin was sure she’d heard him right. Her nose stung as she asked again, “When?”
Zheng Yunzhi reclined in his chair, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Get lost.”
Liang Jin took a couple of steps forward and stressed, “Zheng Yunzhi, you know I have someone watching my back now.”
Disgust flashed across Zheng Yunzhi’s face. He seemed about to speak, then held back, rubbing his temples with a cold scoff before saying flatly, “Even if she wins, that money won’t be enough to save Liang Wei.”
A while back, when Zeng Zhi had asked if he knew any lawyers, he’d had his suspicions. When he pressed her, she finally admitted she wanted to sue for the marital assets.
Even during her illness and surgery, Zeng Zhi hadn’t changed her mind.
But now, bedridden and on a ventilator, hovering on the brink of death time and again, she was suing her ex-husband. It was obvious who it was for.
Zheng Yunzhi’s hand rested on the filming equipment he used day in and day out. The middle-aged man took off his baseball cap, suddenly looking a decade older. “Around the time Little Deng arrived in the Hong Kong District. She wants to leave the money to you.”
This came after Liang Wenbin had gone to Zeng Zhi and spouted his nonsense.
Liang Jin realized what was happening and, heedless of her messy hair, grabbed her phone to call Zeng Zhi.
When her mom learned she was throwing everything away for money, she’d resolved to secure a future for her.
In her rush to head out, Zheng Yunzhi called after her. “Liang Jin, what happened before… I was drunk and spoke my true feelings. I apologize for that. But I wasn’t wrong about the rest. You’re too selfish, too naive. The adult world isn’t that simple. What makes you think you can fix everything? This is the massive Hong Kong District—what gives you the idea you can handle it all, make a name for yourself?”
Zheng Yunzhi had lived a life of poverty and frustration. He couldn’t fathom spending millions to save someone. He’d long accepted that Zeng Zhi would die—not just him; Zeng Zhi herself had resigned to it.
But Liang Jin refused to accept it.
Zheng Yunzhi went on, “Take that promotional vote, for example. Isn’t it just a game for those rich young masters throwing money around? One word from the top, and those tycoons can swap you out in an instant. ‘An ant trying to shake a tree’—don’t you get it?”
Liang Jin’s fingers clenched until her knuckles whitened. She said coldly, “But Director Zheng, you know better than anyone—I came to the Hong Kong District to save my mom.”
She stood in the cluttered makeup room where sunlight streamed in. The bustling staff paid no mind to her conversation with Zheng Yunzhi, but she spoke with gravity. “Zheng Yunzhi.” A warm breeze blew through as she stood there, her slender figure backlit, her expression calm and unreadable. “My mom won’t die. And the movie will get released. I guarantee it.”
This conviction had been shattered and rebuilt time and again. There were indeed things in this world that one could never achieve, no matter how much of one’s life one devoted to them. But now Liang Jin could say with absolute certainty: “I will keep Mom alive, and I will make her name known to the entire world.”
Liang Jin glanced indifferently at the middle-aged director standing in front of the media player, then turned and walked away.
She said, “I will do it.”
~~~
Liang Jin called her mother and asked about the lawyer. Zeng Zhi seemed to have anticipated the call and explained her plans to Liang Jin. She comforted her with, “It’s fine,” adding that the court date was next month and that she could hold on until then.
Liang Jin stood in front of the film crew, the script detailing Zeng Zhi’s life lying beside her hand. She remained silent for a long time.
She wrapped up her scenes ahead of schedule that afternoon and returned to school to gather her remaining belongings before heading to Shen Keye’s place.
At the intersection, her phone buzzed with a new message.
Ye: 【Come keep me company in class?】
She had more scenes with the film crew that evening and knew she might not make it in time, so she simply replied: 【At the film crew.】
Her phone rang immediately.
“Liang Jin, where are you?”
Shen Keye’s end of the line was filled with the clamor of voices—it sounded like he was in a classroom.
After a moment of silence, Liang Jin answered, “The film crew.”
Shen Keye said coldly, “You messing with me? SNS is blowing up—you’re back at school, Big Star.”
The young man’s voice was cold and magnetic, laced with sarcasm. Liang Jin glanced over her shoulder at her surroundings and saw several people pulling out their phones to snap photos of her.
Liang Jin still hadn’t adjusted to her rising fame; she hadn’t realized quite so many people were watching her every move.
She felt no embarrassment at being caught, however. Instead, she suggested, “Then let’s go to class together?” Recalling Shen Keye’s earlier request, she added, “I could sit next to you?”
“I’ve got a girlfriend. You’re single. What does it look like if we sit together?” Shen Keye’s tone was flat. “Me cheating?”
Liang Jin blinked.
Over the past few days, Hong Kong University had been abuzz with rumors that the crown prince had a secret girlfriend he treasured beyond words. He wouldn’t even tell his closest friend, Little Shao, who she was—he guarded the secret fiercely.
Her words were light and airy, but when she lifted her gaze, there was a trace of cool indifference in her eyes. “You could tell people I’m throwing myself at you to be the other woman,” Liang Jin said understandingly. “Your girlfriend wouldn’t bat an eye at a side piece like me.”
Shen Keye’s voice remained even, devoid of inflection. “Come here.”
Shen Keye’s classroom was on the third floor. By the time Liang Jin arrived, the break had just ended. She apologized to the professor as she slipped inside, and her eyes immediately found Shen Keye in the back-row corner.
He was dressed all in black, black-framed glasses perched on his nose. He watched her through the lenses.
His dark eyes held a chill indifference.
Yet the possessiveness lurking in their depths was plain as day, unmasked. He was waiting for her to make a move.
The professor knew about Liang Jin’s situation and simply told her to find a seat.
Liang Jin walked straight to the back and rapped lightly on Shao Xingyu’s desk. In a warm voice, she asked, “Classmate, is this seat taken?”
Shao Xingyu had seen Shen Keye step out to take a call during the break. He also knew the two of them were an item—the Hong Kong tabloids had been digging up plenty of third-rate gossip lately, including the fact that Liang Jin had emerged from Shen Keye’s neighborhood that very morning.
He knew exactly what that implied.
Eager to fan the flames, the young man drawled lazily, “Nah, gimme a reason at least.”
Liang Jin didn’t push it. She simply took the empty seat next to Shao Xingyu instead.
She sent Shen Keye a message.
Liang Jin stole glances at him as he took notes. His posture was coolly detached, his long, bony fingers gripping a pen as he jotted down phrases in his notebook.
The professor’s lecture moved at a brisk pace—all in English, covering some seventy pages of the textbook in a single session. Shen Keye listened with casual attention, not slacking off in the least. He completely ignored the phone vibrating with messages beside him.
Liang Jin had to be back at the film crew by five to resume shooting. Growing anxious, she scribbled a note and passed it over.
【Shao Xingyu won’t let me sit next to you.】
Shen Keye glanced sideways at the note as it was slipped to him. Through Shao Xingyu, who was leaning back in his chair and listening to the lecture, he caught sight of the girl on the other side.
She had changed into a gray miniskirt that hugged her figure, accentuating her clear lines. A delicate silver rose chain dangled against her slim, pale collarbone.
Liang Jin’s long hair fell loosely around her shoulders, her expression one of cool detachment. Yet she seemed afraid he might ignore her, so she added another message to the note in careful, deliberate strokes.
【But I want to kiss you. What should I do?】
~~~
Liang Jin didn’t follow the lecture very well. She wasn’t dim by any means, but her grades had suffered from having to scrape by for a living. The professor sped through several economic models too quickly for her to grasp.
That evening, Shao Xingyu and Shen Keye had a dinner engagement off-campus, so they left as soon as class ended.
Her phone pinged with a message from Jiang Manyu containing the address for their planned meetup.
By the time Liang Jin chased after him, Shen Keye was already at the end of the corridor.
The young man slung his bag over one shoulder, his black glasses tucked into the side pocket. From the side, his Adam’s apple and jawline formed sleek, sharp lines. As if sensing something, he turned his gaze, revealing the tiny black mole on his nose bridge and lending his entire face a dangerously cool allure.
Owing to the crowd, Liang Jin simply walked over and fell silently into step beside him.
Liang Jin spoke first, explaining, “I have to go back to film later.”
Shen Keye sneered inwardly. His gaze flicked toward her as he asked, “Who was that message from just now?”
Liang Jin paused for a moment, her eyes dropping unconsciously. She told the truth. “It was from Jiang Manyu—the time and place to meet Song Youqing.”
Admitting all this right in front of her boyfriend made Liang Jin’s palms sweat without her even realizing it.
Shen Keye led her into the nearby break room. He reached out a hand. “Give me your phone.”
Liang Jin hesitated before handing it over.
Shen Keye blacklisted the sender.
“Next time,” Shen Keye said, “sync all your messages to my phone.”
Liang Jin replied, “I told you.”
The young man glanced sideways at her, his expression carrying no warmth.
Liang Jin’s heart stuttered for a beat. She asked, “You want to control me?”
The man before her lowered his eyes. Shen Keye reached out and grasped her slender wrist.
He gazed down at her, his pitch-black eyes glinting with amusement. The raw possessiveness in their depths was on full display as he looked at Liang Jin. “I also want to kiss you.”