“Zhang… Jiejie (Sister)?”

Zeyang’s hesitant voice came from the phone again.

Zhang Zhixing abruptly stood up, looking at Liang Yao.

Liang Yao picked up the violin case that was placed beside him and turned to leave.

With one swift motion, Zhang Zhixing reached out and grasped his index and middle fingers.

Liang Yao froze in place, his mouth moving slightly but saying nothing.

Zhang Zhixing also remained still, holding the phone. “I’m here. Do you still need something?”

“…”

The phone was silent for a few moments. “Zhang Jie, who was that?”

Liang Yao let out a disdainful snort, shook off Zhang Zhixing’s hand, and stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him with a loud bang.

The sound reverberated through the living room, leaving a faint echo.

Zhang Zhixing massaged her temples. “Whoever it was has nothing to do with you. We’re just in a professional relationship. That’s all. I’m hanging up now.”

“But—” beep, beep, beep.

Zhang Zhixing promptly ended the call.

She walked to Liang Yao’s door and knocked gently.

Bang!

The door shook violently, followed by a muffled thud.

Startled, Zhang Zhixing turned the handle and pushed the door open. Her foot nudged against something soft—a pillow.

He had thrown a pillow at the door.

Picking up the pillow, Zhang Zhixing dusted it off and placed it back on the bed.

Liang Yao sat slouched in a boss chair, his legs crossed on the table. His head tilted back against the chair, silver hair cascading down, framing his striking black eyes.

Zhang Zhixing bent down to meet his gaze. “Angry?”

Liang Yao didn’t reply, avoiding her eyes.

She extended both hands and began to knead his face. “What are you upset about?”

“Hmph.” Liang Yao turned his head, trying to escape her hands.

“In that situation, should I have said we’re living together?”

Zhang Zhixing rubbed his cheeks again. “You were in the first episode of the show, right after him. He’d surely remember you. The more people know we’re living together, the riskier it is for you.”

“And so what?!” Liang Yao retorted quickly, displeasure evident on his face. “You just have too many excuses.”

Zhang Zhixing froze. “So… you want everyone to know we’re living together?”

Liang Yao’s voice dropped. “I never said that!”

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Zhang Zhixing’s phone vibrated again.

She glanced at it—it was Zeyang.

This guy is relentless, she thought. Clearing her throat, she said, “Let me take this call.”

Liang Yao’s gaze sharpened. “Who is it?”

Zhang Zhixing hesitated.

Liang Yao let out a sarcastic laugh, his tone dripping with jealousy.

“Wow, ten calls a day. Is he a stutterer? Can’t he finish a conversation in one go?”

Zhang Zhixing burst into laughter and leaned closer to meet his gaze.

Despite his upside-down view of the world, Liang Yao caught sight of her beautiful almond-shaped eyes, brimming with amusement.

She ruffled his hair and teased, “Why? Are you jealous?”

The wind swept in through the window, lifting the curtains and stirring something deep in Liang Yao’s heart.

“Jea… jealous?” His voice faltered before his temper flared. He leapt up and shoved Zhang Zhixing out of the room. “If you’re going to take a call, do it outside! Stop being an eyesore!”

With that, he slammed the door shut and leaned heavily against it.

Liang Yao took deep, gulping breaths as his heart raced uncontrollably.

He swallowed hard, his mind a tangled mess.

Jealous?

Am I jealous?!

Outside the door, Zhang Zhixing answered the phone. “Can you just tell me everything at once?”

On the other end, Zeyang lightly brushed his fingers over the book on his lap, his dark eyes calm though his voice carried a hint of innocence. “I just received notice that tomorrow afternoon there’s a shoot for Idol Project and Yunshang Magazine.”

“Yunshang Magazine, huh? Got it.”

Zhang Zhixing paused briefly. “Anything else? If not, I’m hanging up.”

Zeyang traced a faint line on the book’s cover with his fingernail. “Zhang Jie, do you dislike me so much? Is it because of… that person just now?”

Zhang Zhixing chuckled softly.

The sound was as light as a feather, teasing Zeyang’s ears and making his throat feel inexplicably dry.

She said, “And why are you asking me this question now?”

Zeyang was momentarily at a loss for words.

---

The Yunshang Magazine office was far away. Since they needed to do makeup and fittings in the afternoon, Zhang Zhixing brought Zeyang to the location before noon.

Not long after their arrival, a group of handsome boys arrived together—the trainees scheduled to shoot alongside Zeyang.

Zeyang stood up to greet them, but they merely exchanged glances and ignored him.

Zeyang knew they harbored resentment toward him.

These three trainees were predetermined to debut, but Zeyang’s sudden rise in popularity on Weibo had caused his votes to skyrocket past theirs.

Though their spots were guaranteed, Zeyang’s higher vote count made them look bad, which naturally upset them.

Accepting this, Zeyang didn’t push for further interaction.

The makeup artist assigned was a professional, taking significant time on each individual for makeup and hairstyling.

Zeyang was the first to arrive and should have gone first. However, the three trainees had already taken the seats and started their sessions without asking.

With no choice, Zeyang waited.

Zhang Zhixing entered the makeup room carrying several cups of milk tea.

She frowned slightly, glancing at the three boys in the makeup chairs before turning her gaze to Zeyang, who was lounging on the sofa.

She placed the milk teas on the table. “Aren’t they doing makeup in order of arrival? What are you doing just sitting there?”

Zeyang lowered his eyes, smiling faintly. “It’s fine. They’re in a hurry.”

Zhang Zhixing took a sip of her milk tea. “Oh, so they’re isolating you?”

Zeyang’s throat tightened.

Pushing one of the drinks toward him, Zhang Zhixing added, “Don’t worry. Even though they’re isolating you, I don’t like you either.”

Zeyang: “…”

Seeing his dejected expression, Zhang Zhixing smiled smugly and walked out.

Staring at the milk tea on the table, Zeyang remained silent for a moment before breaking into a faint smile.

After waiting nearly two hours, it was finally Zeyang’s turn.

Once his makeup was done, he headed to the dressing room, only to see the three trainees stepping out in trendy outfits.

The one in the lead glanced at Zeyang and smirked.

Feeling uneasy, Zeyang opened his locker and pulled out his outfit.

The seams were frayed, the fabric ripped, and the clothes were practically destroyed.

Clenching the sleeve tightly, Zeyang’s face darkened.

The outfits were pre-coordinated to match the photoshoot’s theme. Changing them last minute would ruin the shoot’s aesthetic.

Given the strict confidentiality, only essential staff and managers were allowed in the studio.

Looking at his phone, Zeyang hesitated before dialing Zhang Zhixing.

She might tell him to abandon the shoot altogether, but he had no one else to turn to.

The call didn’t even connect before being abruptly rejected.

Zeyang chuckled bitterly. Of course, she wouldn’t even bother to pick up.

Glancing back at the ruined clothes, his expression grew even darker. His jaw tightened as he suppressed his frustration.

Click.

The fitting room door swung open abruptly, and Zhang Zhixing entered with an impatient look, holding up her phone.

“What’s wrong this time?”

Zeyang froze, his throat dry. “Why… are you here?”

“I was just outside when I saw your call. What’s going on now?”

Noticing the outfit in his hands, she frowned. “Why aren’t you changing yet? The crew’s going to rush you soon.”

Embarrassed, Zeyang tightened his grip on the clothes and said quietly, “The clothes… are ruined.”

“What?”

Zhang Zhixing approached, taking the garments from him.

Upon examining the frayed seams and torn fabric, her brows furrowed deeply. “Wow, not only isolated but targeted too, huh?”

Zeyang had always prided himself on enduring hardships silently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike back.

But Zhang Zhixing’s simple response was something Zeyang found difficult to tolerate.

Zeyang’s expression cooled slightly. “Does this mean we can’t film today?”

“Not necessarily.”

Zhang Zhixing pulled a sewing kit from her bag. After comparing the thread color, she began threading the needle.

Her gaze was focused as the needle and thread moved deftly through the fabric.

Zeyang’s breathing grew heavier. “I didn’t expect you to carry a sewing kit around.”

“I didn’t expect to encounter this kind of situation again.”

Her tone was laced with resignation.

“Again?” Zeyang’s eyes lowered. “Who else have you sewn for?”

Zhang Zhixing paused mid-stitch, her mind briefly drifting to the scatterbrained Song Honglang. She smiled faintly but chose not to answer.

Seeing this, Zeyang felt a growing frustration simmering within him.

After a while, he asked, “Was it that person from the call?”

“It’s done. I just did a quick repair. It should hold as long as you don’t move too much.”

Avoiding his question, Zhang Zhixing packed away the sewing kit and handed him the outfit.

Zeyang accepted it without further pressing.

Zhang Zhixing turned to leave. “Once you’ve changed, don’t forget to test the camera angles with the crew.”

Zeyang replied, “Okay.”

Her footsteps paused briefly, and she turned to glance at him with a small smile. “Perform well. Don’t waste the effort I put into mending your clothes, got it?”

Zeyang held his breath for a few seconds before exhaling.

He curved his lips into a soft smile. “Got it.”

When Zeyang appeared on set, the other trainees visibly deflated in disappointment.

He still politely nodded toward them, though the emotions churning within him were his alone to know.

There’s still time. I’ll settle these scores one by one.

During the shoot, Zeyang’s charisma was on full display.

Even the photographer found their lens drawn to him repeatedly, captivated.

“Lastly, please say something to your fans directly into the camera!”

This segment was typically for self-promotion and fan engagement. The trainees eagerly put in their best effort.

When it was Zeyang’s turn, he hesitated for a few seconds.

Then, he adjusted the camera angle, bringing his striking features closer into focus.

The photographer’s heartbeat quickened slightly. He’s really stunning.

Zeyang smiled faintly, his gaze sincere. “I hope all of you can find a little more happiness. Do your best, but don’t push yourselves too hard.”

After recording, Zeyang turned away, the smile on his face fading into indifference.

Finally done. How tedious.

He walked a few steps before a sharp pain gripped his stomach.

Zeyang clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright as he made his way to the car.

“You did well today,” Zhang Zhixing remarked as she started the car. But her brows furrowed when she glanced at him. “Why do you look so pale?”

Zeyang bit his lip, his voice hoarse. “Just an old problem. Take me home, and I’ll take some medicine.”

“It’ll take over an hour to get to your place.”

Zhang Zhixing glanced at the navigation. “I’ll stop and get you some medicine.”

Zeyang, drained of energy, curled into the seat.

A few minutes later, Zhang Zhixing pulled into a pharmacy. “What do you take? I’ll get it for you.”

Zeyang took several breaths before speaking. “Potassium citrate capsules.”

Not long after, Zhang Zhixing returned with the medication, opening the back door.

Zeyang was half-lying across the seat, his face pale, dark eyes glassy.

She quickly steadied him by the shoulders, opened the medication, and unscrewed a bottle of water. “Here.”

Zeyang tilted his head slightly, letting her hand guide the water and pills to his mouth.

After swallowing, he seemed to go limp, leaning fully into Zhang Zhixing’s embrace.

Zhang Zhixing closed the water bottle and glanced at Zeyang nestled against her. She hesitated before asking, “Your stomach’s acting up?”

Zeyang let out a quiet hum. “Mm.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Mm, a bit.”

His voice was muffled.

The car grew quiet as neither spoke.

After a while, Zhang Zhixing’s expression grew complicated. “Can you get out of my lap now?”

Zeyang lifted his head to look at her, the faint redness in his pale face making him even more striking.

He smiled softly. “Can’t Zhang Jie comfort me a little longer?”

Seeing that he had recovered, Zhang Zhixing patted his back. “Get up. I need to drive.”

Zeyang didn’t move. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her down into the backseat.

Zhang Zhixing pushed at his head. “Zeyang, get up.”

With his face buried in her shoulder, Zeyang murmured, “Zhang Jie, if you don’t like me, then don’t care about me at all.”

“Fine. Let go of me now, and I promise not to care.”

Zhang Zhixing continued to push at his shoulders.

Zeyang chuckled, his innocent facade tinged with something more unsettling. “Too late.”

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Her phone vibrated.

Zhang Zhixing’s hands were pinned by Zeyang.

He picked up her phone and answered the call for her.

“Zhang Zhixing! Where are you? Why aren’t you back yet?”

Liang Yao’s exasperated voice echoed through the call.

Zeyang’s eyes narrowed, a cold smile tugging at his lips.

Zhang Zhixing sighed. “I’m on my way. I’ll be back soon.”

Zeyang leaned against her, relishing her warmth as his lashes lowered.

“Alright, but hurry—”

Zeyang suddenly laughed.

The soft, low chuckle resonated clearly through the phone.

Liang Yao froze for a moment before exploding. “What the hell—”

Beep, beep, beep.

The call ended.

Liang Yao’s mind blanked with rage.

He raised the phone, ready to throw it, but hesitated.

Why throw my own phone? Shouldn’t I break Zhang Zhixing’s stuff instead?

He stomped into the living room, prepared to sweep everything off the coffee table, but stopped midway.

She’s not even here. Who am I showing my anger to?

The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became.

What’s wrong with me?

In the car, Zeyang ended the call with a faint look of surprise. Then, offering a half-hearted apology, he smiled. “Sorry. My finger slipped.”

Zhang Zhixing’s face darkened as she moved to kick him. “Get off me.”

Zeyang rose as instructed, handing back the phone with a drifting tone. “Why so mad?”

Snatching the phone, Zhang Zhixing’s voice turned icy. “Don’t ever pull something so childish again.”

Zeyang studied her expression and grinned. “Zhang Jie, do you really not care about me at all?”

“We maintain a professional relationship. I hope you understand that.”

Zhang Zhixing paused. “And I also hope you don’t cross the line.”

Zeyang looked down at his pale, slender fingers, a faint smile lingering on his lips.

He raised his eyes, the corners crinkling with amusement. “But I think I already want to cross the line. You say you dislike me, but you’ve helped me so much. Is this how you show dislike, Zhang Jie? Are you this kind to everyone?”

Zhang Zhixing glanced at the system’s interface, where Zeyang’s favorability rating stood at “70.” Her expression was conflicted.

So love-struck idiots really do lose all reason—even ones like Zeyang, the black-hearted lotus.

With a serious expression, she nodded. “Of course. I treat everyone this well. Didn’t you know? I’m the Good Samaritan of the entertainment industry.”

Zeyang: “…”

After a pause, he leaned closer to her. “No matter what Zhang Jie says, I’ll believe what I feel.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Can’t reason with this guy at all.

Zeyang tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with her.

“Zhang Jie, don’t you have anything else to say?”

Zhang Zhixing leaned in, closing the distance between them.

The air grew heavy, and Zeyang’s breathing quickened.

Then he heard her answer.

“Well, if that’s what you think, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Zeyang: “…”

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