Chapter11

Cen Zhen truly hadn’t intended to eavesdrop—in fact, this was a question that didn’t even need to be asked.

Why would Meng Fanchuan like her?

They’d only met a few times. Sure, love at first sight might exist in this world, but Cen Zhen didn’t believe it would happen to a man like him, one with wealth and power.

Their kind of affection was a very complicated thing, often involving considerations of interest, power, family background, and more. For people of their status, love was too cheap—something to while away the time when idle, but when it came to taking responsibility, that was a whole different matter.

Sure enough, after just two seconds of silence, Cen Zhen heard a low reply behind her: “I don’t know what you're talking about。”

—"Don’t know what you’re talking about."

He dragged out the words lazily, not even bothering to give a real answer. Just a feigned ignorance to muddle past the question.

Of course, Cen Zhen had never held any hope. This was exactly the answer she had expected. Head lowered, the last thing she heard before entering the private room with Xie Qingzong was from Wen Hui.

“Second Young Master,” she said meaningfully, as if to remind him, “(You still have trouble left unresolved in Beicheng.)。”

The conversation ended there. Once they entered the new room, Meng Fanchuan said he was going to the balcony for a smoke and temporarily stepped out. Wen Hui then stepped forward and helped pull out the chair for Xie Qingzong, chatting warmly, “Do you usually work this late?”

Wen Hui’s Mandarin wasn’t entirely standard—her Hong Kong accent was detectable. Cen Zhen half-listened as her eyes casually drifted toward the balcony. The young man’s back was obscured in the dim evening light, surrounded by white smoke. He was fiddling with his lighter, looking inexplicably distracted.

Cen Zhen couldn’t help but recall the “trouble” Wen Hui mentioned.

Was he troubled by that?

“Xiao Cen.” Xie Qingzong’s voice brought her attention back. “Come, have some tea.”

The director personally poured the tea. Cen Zhen hurriedly bent down to receive it. “Thank you, Director Xie. I can do it myself.”

Xie Qingzong liked this kind of humble newcomer. He looked at her and said, “Cen Zhen, the role in Falling—I can’t give it to you, at least for now.”

Cen Zhen paused mid-pour. “Then why did you want to see me…”

“You should know this year’s International Ski Festival is being held in Mingzhou City. The local officials are putting a lot of importance on it, but none of the promotional videos they've commissioned have satisfied them,” Xie Qingzong said slowly. “Now they’ve reached out to CCTV, and CCTV reached out to me. I need an actor—specifically, you.”

Cen Zhen didn’t immediately react. She pursed her lips slightly. “A promo video?”

Xie Qingzong assumed Cen Zhen was unimpressed and explained, “This is an international event. The promo will be broadcast on media platforms around the world. For a newcomer like you, it’s an excellent opportunity for exposure.”

At this point, Cen Zhen couldn’t even land a role in a minor, third-rate production—how could she possibly look down on a promotional video directed by Meng Qingshan? But since this project was produced by CCTV, she hesitated briefly before gathering her courage to ask, “Why did you choose me, Director Xie?”

Xie Qingzong smiled and gestured toward Meng Fanchuan in the distance. “Then you’ll have to thank Young Master Meng.”

If Meng Fanchuan hadn’t picked up Cen Zhen’s profile back then, Xie Qingzong wouldn’t have discovered this gem hidden in the shadows.

But upon hearing this, Cen Zhen’s expression subtly changed, and the hope she had held in her heart quietly dimmed.

She had thought Director Xie had chosen her for her acting, for her talent—but in the end, it was because of Meng Fanchuan.

No wonder, when they had just met, he had said that line—"Looks like Young Master Meng moves faster than I do."

He was the boss; he must have known about it long ago.

“What are you talking about?” Meng Fanchuan returned from the balcony just then and casually asked.

Wen Hui, who’d been eavesdropping on the gossip halfway, also assumed it was Meng Fanchuan who had connected the dots. She smiled at him and said, “Talking about how Miss Cen is going to film the promotional video for us.”

Meng Fanchuan didn’t say anything. After sitting down, he glanced at Cen Zhen calmly. “Miss Cen has agreed?”

Xie Qingzong’s gaze followed, looking at her as well. “Hm? What do you think?”

Cen Zhen’s emotions had been a rollercoaster over these past ten minutes. When she found out Xie Qingzong was looking for her, she couldn’t hold back her excitement and joy. But then, realizing it wasn’t for a film, she felt a bit let down. Of course, a promo video was still a great opportunity—but it just happened to be connected to the man beside her.

Cen Zhen wanted to seize every possible opportunity. But if this chance had to be earned the same way she once tried to please Shen Zesheng—by catering to Meng Fanchuan—then what had been the point of everything she’d held onto all this time?

Feeling conflicted, Cen Zhen paused for a moment before speaking. “Can I think about it?”“Of course you can, but time is tight—you’ll need to decide quickly,” Xie Qingzong said. “We’ll start filming in Mingzhou at the beginning of next month.”

“Okay.”

Xie Qingzong still had to return to the set for directing work, so the late-night meal didn’t last long. He briefly chatted with Wen Hui about some ideas and plans for the promotional video. Though just a few words, Cen Zhen could tell it was an excellent concept.

Once news got out, there would definitely be no shortage of actors fighting tooth and nail for it.

Cen Zhen was deeply conflicted, and even after Xie Qingzong finished eating and left, she was still distracted.

“If you make up your mind, you can contact Miss Wen or Young Master Meng directly. They’ll arrange the contract with you.” Before leaving, Xie Qingzong reminded her again.

Cen Zhen responded, “Alright, goodbye, Director Xie.”

Xie Qingzong had been picked up personally by Wen Hui, so of course she was also the one to drive him back to the set. Once they left, only Meng Fanchuan and Cen Zhen remained in the private room. Though the space was large, Cen Zhen suddenly felt unexplainably cramped, as if even the air had grown thin.

She quietly took a breath to steady herself, then stood up to bid farewell. “It’s getting late, Young Master Meng, I should be heading back.”

Meng Fanchuan gave a soft “mm” but asked something else instead, “May I ask what Miss Cen’s concerns are regarding the promotional shoot?”

Caught off guard, Cen Zhen didn’t know how to respond.

After all, she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth: you are the biggest concern.

Once you take benefits from capital and step into the game, there’s no getting out unscathed. She had already offended Shen Zesheng; if she offended Meng Fanchuan next, who could say whether her path as an actress would even survive?

It was ironic. She had studied diligently for four years, yet in the end, her fate was still controlled by those with capital.

Unable to give a proper answer, Cen Zhen simply smiled faintly. “Surely Young Master Meng wouldn’t deny me even a moment to consider it?”

They stared at each other in quiet stillness for a few seconds. Then Meng Fanchuan nodded, circling back to the earlier topic. “It doesn’t seem easy to get a cab here.”

Cen Zhen calmly declined, “It’s fine. I’ve already booked one.”

The girl in front of him was clearly on high alert, her defenses maxed out. Meng Fanchuan paused slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting just a touch before he rose lazily to his feet. “Alright.”

He didn’t say another word—no excuses, no polite small talk. He simply turned and left the private room.

Cen Zhen watched his figure disappear and spaced out for a moment, when a sudden thought surfaced—

Compared to Shen Zesheng, Meng Fanchuan, this “patron,” had never once forced, threatened, or tempted her into anything.

Realizing she was actually assigning positive traits to Meng Fanchuan, Cen Zhen couldn’t help but lightly slap her forehead. What was she even comparing? No matter how much she compared, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth they shared.

Some people just played the game more overtly, while others used the boiling-frog approach—more patient, that’s all.

At 11:30 p.m., Cen Zhen left Sheng Kee Diner alone.

The area near the film studio really wasn’t great for getting a cab. Just as she was about to open a mini app to check for nearby drivers, two honks suddenly came from across the street.

Cen Zhen instinctively looked up and saw that Qiao Tingting’s car was still parked across the road.

She blinked in surprise and quickly realized her best friend was calling her over. She hurried across the street and got in the car. “Didn’t you say you had something to do?”

“Come on.” Qiao Tingting was sipping a lemon tea. “I just rushed out because I was afraid I’d said something wrong and offended that Young Master. Had to report back to my agent in case I needed to prepare something in advance.”

Cen Zhen couldn’t help laughing, “He’s not that petty.”

“So you know him that well?” Qiao Tingting blinked. “I haven’t even asked—when did you meet him? Why’d you bring him out for a late-night bite?”

Thinking of everything that had happened that night, Cen Zhen leaned back in her seat and let out a long sigh. “Because of you.”

Qiao Tingting: “Huh?”

Cen Zhen briefly recounted how she met Meng Fanchuan and what happened tonight. When Qiao Tingting realized Cen Zhen had spent the whole night running around for her, she laughed heartily. “Do you think I’m that easy to get drunk? You’re way too tense.”

“Maybe.” Cen Zhen didn’t deny she’d overreacted. She lowered her head and was silent for a moment before saying softly, “Back in senior year, I got forced to drink by Shen Zesheng at a party.”

“I didn’t know how to say no then—or even that I could say no. I was lucky that someone helped me when I was lost and panicking.”

“But luck doesn’t come around every time. I just hoped that—even if I was being overly anxious—if he tried to force you, I could be that bit of luck for you.”

Qiao Tingting was moved. She leaned over and hugged Cen Zhen. “I know you care about me.”

She deliberately pretended to be on the verge of tears, which made Cen Zhen laugh. “Cut the act.”

“Okay.” Qiao Tingting giggled and sat back up straight, resting her chin on her hand. “But you’ve never told me this before. So what happened after? You and the person who helped you—no story at all?”

A story?That night, Cen Zhen was forced to drink by Shen Zesheng under all sorts of pretexts. She couldn’t hold her liquor to begin with—after just a few glasses, her face turned red, her head was heavy, her legs light, and everything started spinning. She finally managed to excuse herself to the restroom, wanting to splash some water on her face to sober up, but ended up hunched over the sink, vomiting like the sky was spinning.

She had never been more disheveled—her sleeves were soaked, and she could barely stand, clinging to the counter for balance.

That was when the man appeared.

Cen Zhen no longer remembered what his voice sounded like—only that he handed her a packet of tissues with a particularly pleasant scent and said in a calm tone, “Girls shouldn’t drink too much.”

Then he called over a female attendant from one of the private rooms and gave her instructions:

“No need to go back in, take her to one of the rooms upstairs to rest.”

By the time Cen Zhen, groggy and dazed, looked up, the man had already left.

She didn’t know who he was—probably one of the guests at the party that night? In any case, the female attendant soon helped her to a very luxurious suite upstairs.

When she woke up later that night, the party downstairs had long ended, and she never saw the man who helped her again.

It was like a blurry dream after a hangover—something she often recalled, yet could never quite remember his voice or his face.

The only things clearly etched in her memory were the uniquely scented tissues and the room number: 222.

“Nothing happened,” Cen Zhen took a breath, her dense eyelashes casting shadows over her eyes. “I don’t even know who he is.”

She had even gone on to buy every brand of tissues she could find in the market, but never found that same scent again.

“You don’t know who he is, but you know Meng Fanchuan,” Qiao Tingting grinned with a gossipy glint in her eyes. “And that Young Master Meng seems pretty enthusiastic about you.”

She deliberately emphasized the word “enthusiastic”. How could Cen Zhen not catch the hint? She turned her head. “What are you trying to say?”

Qiao Tingting, well-versed in these things, said, “Isn’t it obvious? He’s into you.”

Even her best friend thought so, which made Cen Zhen realize it wasn’t just her imagination. She thought of Xie Qingzong’s promotional video and lowered her eyes with a sigh. “But I’m not into him.”

“Sure, sure, the only one you’re into is that Song Wang kid, right?”

Just then, both of their phones pinged with a Weibo notification.

Qiao Tingting glanced at it, immediately swiping open her screen in excitement. She turned to Cen Zhen, “Oh my god, that rumored romance between the rising young male star and the famous actress just dropped—haha, let’s see which poor guy got caught on camera.”

Turns out, even celebrities love gossip—and they’re online for it the second it breaks.

Cen Zhen wasn’t interested in gossip. She leaned against the car window, still thinking about the promotional shoot. It wasn’t until the car fell into an unusual silence that she turned to see Qiao Tingting staring at her.

Cen Zhen felt a strange unease under her gaze. “What is it?”

Qiao Tingting opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn’t get the words out.

Her hesitation made Cen Zhen faintly sense that something was off. She quickly pulled out her phone and tapped into the Weibo notification from earlier.

Sure enough, at the top of the post, followed by a red “Hot” icon:

#Jiang Yuan and Song Wang spotted intimately entering and exiting an apartment#