Chapter12

What Cen Zhen didn’t know was that Meng Fanchuan’s car was still parked nearby and hadn’t left.

On the way back from dropping off Xie Qingzong, Wen Hui had messaged him saying there was something she needed to talk to him about and asked him to wait for her return. Fortunately, just over ten minutes later, Wen Hui came back and switched over to Meng Fanchuan’s car.

“I thought you’d send that Miss Cen home.” Most of the time, Wen Hui respected the language habits of the mainland and spoke Mandarin with Meng Fanchuan.

Meng Fanchuan smiled faintly, “Wasn’t I waiting for Miss Wen?”

“Don’t get cheeky.” Wen Hui, who had watched the three Meng siblings grow up, was both an assistant and an elder. Her tone was indulgent and fond. “I could tell.”

“Tell what?”

“You were watching her the whole time at dinner.”

“So?”

“You like her.”

Meng Fanchuan twisted open the bottle of water in the car and took a few sips, then slowly said, “I could tell too.”

Wen Hui: “?”

Meng Fanchuan turned his head casually to meet Wen Hui’s gaze. “You’re very bored.”

“…”

In the front seat, Chen Xiangan pressed his lips together to hold back laughter. Wen Hui, left speechless, gave a light snort of “Fine” and crossed her arms.

“You said you had something to talk to me about?”

Only then did Wen Hui remember the main point. She pulled a box of newly printed business cards from her bag and handed them to Meng Fanchuan. “Chairman Meng issued the official notice today that you’ll be taking over Zhongshi, so next Monday you need to attend a meeting to discuss the company’s development plans for next quarter.”

The cards were housed in a metal case made of North American black walnut, neatly designed and full of rigid social formalities. Meng Fanchuan hadn’t expected to be using something like this one day. He laughed as he drew out a card and held it in his hand. “Not bad. I’ll keep one as a souvenir.”

Wen Hui: “…”

She knew he had no real ambition here, nor any interest in the entertainment industry. But what happened in Beicheng had clearly enraged Meng Songnian. It wasn’t so much that Meng Songnian had sent his son away to Hucheng, but that Meng Fanchuan didn’t want to keep clashing with his father in Beicheng anymore.

So, a period of quiet withdrawal was necessary to ease the father-son relationship.

Wen Hui was doing her best to spark Meng Fanchuan’s interest in the entertainment business from every angle. Just then, her phone chimed with a notification. She glanced at the push alert and, with deliberate timing, handed the phone to Meng Fanchuan.

“See how lively the entertainment world is? Even in the middle of the night, we’ve got steamy gossip.”

Meng Fanchuan glanced over without really caring which celebrity scandal it was. But with just one glance, he spotted a familiar name.

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

Song Wang?

Of course Meng Fanchuan remembered this person.

That time Cen Zhen had accidentally walked into his fitting room, SA had mentioned there was also a young actor named Song Wang in the store.

Then, later at Hua Pavilion, when he saw Cen Zhen again, she had clearly been stood up by someone. And after that, in the inner hall, when he saw Song Wang talking to her in the corner—with a not-so-happy expression—Meng Fanchuan had more or less pieced it together.

Wen Hui’s questions from earlier had no answer. Meng Fanchuan admitted he had some appreciation for Cen Zhen, but it had only stopped at appreciation.

His deep-seated pride and family upbringing laid down a basic principle—

He wouldn’t touch another man’s woman.

But now, Meng Fanchuan stared thoughtfully at the headline. After a long moment, for the first time ever, he—someone who never paid attention to entertainment gossip—clicked into the full topic.

Jiang Yuan and Song Wang’s new drama was currently airing, and the pairing of a popular actress with a rising male star already drew traffic. Now, with a headline involving an apartment and possible romance, the topic was instantly trending—even at midnight.The photos were extremely clear—both of them wearing baseball caps, appearing together in the parking lot of Jiang Yuan’s apartment, and not leaving until 3 a.m.

“What the hell is Song Wang doing!” The more Qiao Tingting looked, the angrier she got. She never imagined the big gossip the media had teased for three days would end up involving her own friend. Furious, she asked Cen Zhen, “Did he say anything to you? Could this be a misunderstanding? You know how the media loves to make something out of nothing.”

Strangely enough, Cen Zhen wasn’t particularly surprised as she looked at the intimate photos—it was as if, deep down, she had already known this day would come.

As Song Wang’s career soared, so did the circles he moved in. He was stepping into a broader and more glamorous world, and the distance between them was growing too.

Falling for someone else? That was only natural.

Still, even though she was mentally prepared, the sudden impact of such an image made it hard for Cen Zhen to feel unaffected. She stayed silent for a long time before turning off her screen and saying, “Just take me home, Tingting.”

Qiao Tingting really wanted to confront Song Wang right then and there, maybe even punch him. But she also knew Cen Zhen needed space to process things, so she held back her anger and started the car.

As they neared the apartment, Cen Zhen asked to get off early. “Just drop me off here.”

It was right at the entrance to the complex, about a hundred or two meters from the gate. Qiao Tingting figured Cen Zhen probably wanted to walk alone for a bit, so she pulled over. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

The ground was still wet when Cen Zhen stepped out—one of the street sweepers had just passed through. The air was damp and cool, and a gust of wind shook the camphor trees, making the round fruits rustle and roll away along the pavement.

She accidentally stepped on one, and it made a crisp, oddly satisfying sound.

But the knot in her chest didn’t loosen one bit.

The hot search for Song Wang and Jiang Yuan was still trending, the heat of the topic intensifying, yet Song Wang himself had been completely silent.

He hadn’t even sent her a single message.

Cen Zhen walked slowly. As she approached the complex entrance, she paused under a camphor tree.

She didn’t like bringing unhappy emotions home.

When it came to making decisions, Cen Zhen had always been decisive. She had once given up dancing—something she’d studied for more than ten years—just to switch to acting. During school, she never caved to fame or temptation.

So of course, she could also walk away from this relationship that hadn’t even lasted half a year.

Cen Zhen dialed Song Wang’s number.

It rang several times before someone finally picked up. Song Wang’s voice came through. “I was just about to call you.”

“Is that so?” Cen Zhen’s voice was cool. “But still, I was the one who called first.”

With all the noise on the trending searches, Song Wang knew Cen Zhen must’ve seen it already. Truthfully, he had spent the last half hour trying to figure out how to explain.

“If I said there’s nothing going on, would you believe me?” he asked.

On the other end of the phone, Cen Zhen said nothing for a long time.

Her silence was like a knife, effortlessly shattering the rift that had already formed between them.

“That night was just a gathering at her place. People from the crew were all there—it wasn’t just me. The media deliberately only photographed me and her. They want attention, clicks, drama. You get it, right?”

“If you don’t believe me, I can send you pictures from that night. There were seven people in total. We arrived in staggered groups.”

“I already knew when we had dinner tonight that someone was going to spin something between me and Jiang Yuan. If I were really messing around with her, would I let them release that news and risk letting you find out?”

“So?” In the midst of all his explanations, Cen Zhen only asked one thing: “If it’s a misunderstanding, why didn’t you clarify right away?”

There was a short pause from Song Wang’s end.

The truth was, during dinner with Cen Zhen that evening, Song Wang had already been informed by his agency that the gossip would be released. After some internal discussion, they decided to ride the wave of attention for now. Whether or not to address it would depend on the audience’s reaction after it broke.

It had been nearly an hour since the story hit the top trending list. Possibly due to the drama they were airing, market feedback showed that around seventy percent of viewers were “shipping” the couple.

The agency had already rolled out a plan.

After several seconds of silence, Song Wang had no choice but to reveal the real strategy behind the scenes. “My agency and Jiang Yuan’s agency discussed it. No responses from either side. Let public opinion build—it’ll maximize buzz for the show.”

And just like that, Cen Zhen understood.

She never imagined that one day her own boyfriend would use a fake couple marketing strategy with another woman.

Cen Zhen suddenly felt a laugh bubble up as she held the phone—mocking herself, for becoming the fool in all of this, and also mocking a relationship that had long since lost its meaning.

“Then I wish you sky-high ratings,” she said, suddenly relaxed. Sitting down on the bench beneath the camphor tree, she let out a silent laugh. “Enjoy the heat while it lasts.”Song Wang knew Cen Zhen all too well. What made her so captivating was the way she remained aloof yet within reach. She had a high wall built around her heart, but when that wall opened, the rose laid down its thorns. The real Cen Zhen exuded an intoxicating allure—she would smile, act playfully, gaze at you with a burning intensity, curl up lazily like a cat in a blanket, and when she opened her eyes, her every movement was full of charm.

But at this moment, Song Wang sensed that the door in her heart was slowly closing on him.

He suddenly grew desperate to hold on to her, forgot his restraint, lost control. “Zhenzhen, I had no choice. You’re not in this industry—you don’t know how real and ruthless the competition is!”

“Even if I don’t know,” Cen Zhen replied calmly, “haven’t you already taught me many times?”

From being stood up at the Hua Mansion, to his refusal to help Qiao Tingting, and now tonight’s trending scandal—Cen Zhen understood that maybe no one was truly wrong, but she and Song Wang were clearly no longer walking the same path.

“You had no choice, but I do.”

“We’re done.”

Without waiting for a reply from the other end, Cen Zhen hung up the call.

Her tense body inexplicably relaxed. A gust of wind blew through, and she instinctively curled her arms inward, suddenly feeling a chill.

She couldn’t tell where the cold was coming from—whether it was the night air, or the “reality” that Song Wang often spoke of. She had no choice but to wrap her arms around herself. From afar, she looked like a pitiful little kitten left behind.

Meng Fanchuan’s car had been parked across the street for a while. On the way back after dropping off Wen Hui, he had, for some inexplicable reason, asked Chen Xiangan to take a detour past Cen Zhen’s neighborhood.

He hadn’t expected to actually see her still outside.

She was pacing under a tree while on the phone, then sat on a bench in quiet disappointment. Her long hair blew wildly in the wind, but she didn’t bother fixing it. Her thin shoulders drooped, and the way she hugged herself looked truly sorrowful.

Was she crying?

Meng Fanchuan watched through the car window. A strange, restless agitation rose within him—he wasn’t a particularly kind person, and had never been one for sympathy, especially not for people unrelated to him.

But right now—

Meng Fanchuan looked away.

His brows furrowed faintly. After a pause, he finally opened the car door.

The streetlight tried its best to illuminate the still night. Shadows of trees swayed, and a few camphor tree fruits were blown down by the wind, rolling away and stopping at the edge of a long, stretched shadow.

Sensing someone approaching, Cen Zhen looked up and blinked. “Meng-shaoye?”

—Her face was clean.

She hadn’t cried.

The tissue Meng Fanchuan had been about to hand her was quietly stuffed back into his pocket. He pretended nothing had happened. “You haven’t gone back yet?”

Cen Zhen didn’t answer. She glanced around, then tilted her head up, puzzled. “Why are you here?”

A good question.

Why was he here?

Meng Fanchuan couldn’t explain it either.

“I dropped Wen Hui off and happened to pass by this street.”

“…Oh.”

Cen Zhen didn’t question him. His “intentions” were already quite obvious—whether or not he was really just passing by didn’t matter. In the end, it was just a line.

Cen Zhen lowered her head again. After a pause, she muttered half to herself, “Is Meng-shaoye a realistic person?”

The question came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t hard to guess it had something to do with tonight’s trending topic. Maybe it was something Song Wang had said, or perhaps something else she didn’t know about.

“Of course,” Meng Fanchuan answered without hesitation.

“And when it comes to feelings?” Cen Zhen looked up at him again, eyes clear yet tinged with confusion.

Meng Fanchuan was caught off guard. That heart of his—always sharp and unyielding—seemed to twist slightly, inexplicably sinking. He looked into her eyes and, after several seconds of silence, lowered his voice.

“I can only tell you this—if I were you, I’d seize every opportunity that could lead me to success.”

Money, status—an adult’s confidence ultimately stems from themselves. This is a realistic world. No one succeeds from just a few motivational quotes. Instead of waiting for someone to hold an umbrella for you, it’s better to grab one yourself and go out to face the storm.

He was willing to hand her that umbrella.

“Cen Zhen, you know what I’m talking about.”

Meng Fanchuan took out the business card he had casually pulled from the box an hour ago. The thick black cardstock had a solid, textured feel.Although they already had each other's phone numbers, Meng Fanchuan still handed Cen Zhen this one and only business card at that moment, formally inviting her:

"Call me when you've made up your mind."