Chapter8

Receiving a call from "Secretary Miss," Cen Zhen didn’t think much and pressed to answer, only to hear a man’s voice on the other end.

Cen Zhen was stunned for a few seconds before realizing, her hand gripping the phone tightening slightly. Afraid it was her imagination, she cautiously asked, "You are…?"

The other side let out a light laugh and clearly said, "I am Meng Fanchuan."

Cen Zhen: "..."

Right, it wasn’t her imagination.

That voice was highly recognizable, cold and lazy, strangely making her feel pampered.

But Cen Zhen clearly knew it wasn’t real—that was his arrogance, the confidence of a controller.

Thinking about how she had foolishly asked around about him for days, Cen Zhen took a breath, "Young Master Meng, why do you play such childish games?"

Meng Fanchuan smiled meaningfully, "Miss Cen, I never said who I was."

"…"

Cen Zhen was stunned by the question. Upon reflection, it seemed true—

He had never said he was that secretary; she had been too anxious and jumped to conclusions from the start.

Her cheeks, flushed from embarrassment, grew warmer. Cen Zhen pursed her lips and tried to sound casual, "So, Young Master Meng, do you have other matters?"

Actually, Meng Fanchuan didn’t know why he made this call—maybe just a moment’s impulse. His gaze fell on the pink velvet jewelry box beside him, naturally finding an excuse, "Miss Cen’s jewelry box is very beautiful."

Cen Zhen waited for him to continue.

"I mean—" Meng Fanchuan did have a follow-up, "Is there a chance to invite you to dinner, and, by the way, return the jewelry box to you."

All these approaches started with a meal. Even this second young master Meng was no exception. If Cen Zhen had once thought "he seems different from those others," now all that remained was the regret of "just like the rest."

She lightly refused, "No need. The box isn’t valuable; Young Master Meng doesn’t need to trouble himself to make a trip."

Meng Fanchuan paused but didn’t press further, only adding, "If there’s anything you need help with, you can call me."

"Thank you, but…" Cen Zhen hesitated a moment, then finally spoke bluntly, "I don’t think there’s any need for Young Master Meng and me to have further contact."

Perhaps deeply influenced by Shen Zesheng, Cen Zhen hoped Meng Fanchuan would understand early that she was a woman who didn’t play along or understand social cues. It would be best if he deleted her number and ended all attempts to probe further.

But Meng Fanchuan’s status was special, and with the Meng family background, he came to Hucheng with such weight that even the famous Zheng family opened their doors for him. How could a small, inconspicuous role like Cen Zhen matter?

Her words were basically a slight to him.

Just moments ago, bravely wanting to set clear boundaries, now that the words were out, Cen Zhen broke into a cold sweat. What if she angered this second young master?

But she comforted herself—her situation was already bad; a little worse wouldn’t make much difference.

Her heart pounded. After a few seconds of silence on the other end, he seemed to smile and calmly said, "Alright."

Before she could react, the busy signal of a disconnected call filled her ear.

"…"

Cen Zhen didn’t expect Meng Fanchuan to be so decisive, incredulously moving her phone away to confirm that he really had hung up.

It felt like a dream. Cen Zhen breathed out, her racing heartbeat slowly calming down.

He was certainly not as troublesome as Shen Zesheng.

—

In the following two days, Cen Zhen’s life returned to its former tranquility.When there was no news about the audition, Cen Zhen usually stayed at home reading books or watching movies. The weather was nice today, so after getting up she moved a rattan chair to the balcony and continued flipping through the original novel of Falling.

This novel, adapted from real events, she had read many times and knew every character inside and out. Before the audition, she even wrote nearly ten thousand words of character notes specifically about the female lead.

But Cen Zhen also knew that such a compelling role attracted many competitors. She couldn’t even get into small crews, let alone a top-tier director like Xie Qingzong.

At first, she had foolishly signed up for the audition just to vent her frustration. Now that the venting was over, she should persuade herself to let go of such fantasies. Yet, staring again and again at the novel, a hope still lingered in her heart—

What if, just as Qiao Tingting said, someone with discerning eyes recognized her?

Would that happen?

A “ding” sound from her phone interrupted her thoughts. She looked over and saw a new post pushed by Song Wangchao’s official account.

#Song Wang’s Love Star Wish# Today’s backpack-wearing Wangwang Xiu Gou! @Song Wang

Love Star Wish was Song Wang’s latest drama, recently released and quite popular thanks to the hot actress Jiang Yuan. Cen Zhen often saw topics about the drama trending.

This post was a fan’s photo of Song Wang arriving at Hucheng airport, meaning—

He had returned to Hucheng.

In the photo, Song Wang wore a white T-shirt and black pants, carrying a backpack, looking fresh and handsome. The comment section was filled with fans calling him “brother” and “husband,” the best proof of his rising popularity.

The lazy afternoon sun fell on her, subtly masking the faint shadow in Cen Zhen’s eyes. She reopened the novel but couldn’t focus. Closing her eyes slightly, she picked up her phone and found Song Wang’s WeChat.

“Are you back?”

After a few seconds, Song Wang called directly, “Just got off the plane, was thinking of coming to find you. Ling said there’s a voice recording to do.”

Cen Zhen responded with a hum, “Saw you trending yesterday. Was the street sweep successful?”

“Not bad.” Someone called Song Wang’s name nearby, and he replied and went over, then said to Cen Zhen, “I’ll pick you up later. Let’s have dinner together today.”

“Okay.”

After hanging up, Cen Zhen looked out at the balcony view, unconsciously recalling her university days with Song Wang. He had always actively followed behind her, and even though Cen Zhen rejected him for four years, he tirelessly showed up whenever she needed help. He always looked sunny and optimistic and said most often to Cen Zhen, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

His repeated promises eventually made Cen Zhen let down her guard.

But at some unknown point, she began to feel a subtle distance between them. This distance was vague and perhaps just her frustrated imagination.

The allure of the entertainment circle was too tempting, and it had only been a few months.

With a light sigh, Cen Zhen closed the novel and went to the bedroom wardrobe to pick out clothes for dinner.

At 6 p.m., Xu Lewei came to drive Cen Zhen.

“Sis (),” Xu Lewei apologized as soon as she got in, “Why didn’t you call me that night at Huagongguan to pick you up? I only found out later you went back alone.”

Several days had passed, and Cen Zhen replied, “I took a taxi back to save you a trip.”

“That road is closed without a permit; even by taxi you’d have to walk several hundred meters,” Xu Lewei said worriedly while driving. “You only wore a slip dress that night. Weren’t you cold?”

Cen Zhen’s eyes flickered slightly, and by some instinct, she thought of Meng Fanchuan.

And that suit jacket carrying his body warmth.

The black fabric full of texture covered her skin, as if being held heavily and warmly, inexplicably giving a sense of security.

Xu Lewei continued complaining about Song Wang, “He really shouldn’t have done that. Don’t be mad. Eat more later; don’t save money for him.”

Seeing Cen Zhen silent, Xu Lewei waved her hand, “Sister?”

“Hm?” Cen Zhen was brought back to focus, sitting up slightly, “I’m not cold.”

Xu Lewei had already moved on from the topic, “...?”

—

Song Wang arranged the meeting at a friend’s private kitchen restaurant. The location was remote, with excellent privacy service. On the way into the private room, Cen Zhen received a call from Qiao Tingting, who was in Hucheng and asked if she wanted to meet up that night.

“My friends are having a drinking party. If you’re free, come with me?”

Before Cen Zhen could reply, Qiao Tingting mysteriously added, “Do you know Meng Fanchuan?”

Cen Zhen was stunned by the question, “Meng Fanchuan?”"That second son of the Meng family, who recently came to Hucheng to take over their media company. My friend knows him. Tonight they specially organized a gathering for him, inviting many friends from the circle to help support the scene."

Even though Cen Zhen had just met him a few days ago, hearing that name again felt distant. Maybe he was truly an unreachable moon in the sky; those few encounters between them were just coincidental accidents.

The entertainment circle was never short of various drinking parties. Worried about Qiao Tingting, Cen Zhen asked, "Are you going alone? Is it safe?"

"It's nothing, all familiar faces," Qiao Tingting said casually. "My friends just want me to sing a few songs to liven up the atmosphere."

Qiao Tingting was a typical extrovert, with endless energy and very comfortable dealing with social occasions. Hearing that, Cen Zhen relaxed, "Then I won't go. After you're done, we'll meet for a late-night snack."

Having finally shaken off Meng Fanchuan, Cen Zhen didn’t want to create more trouble for herself, especially since she already had plans with Song Wang.

After chatting with Qiao Tingting and almost reaching the end of the corridor, a waiter opened a door, "Mr. Song has arrived, please."

The private room’s curtains were drawn tightly, not even a fly could get in. Song Wang was messaging someone and waved to Cen Zhen when she entered, "Over here."

They hadn’t seen each other for a few days; Song Wang seemed a bit thinner. After Cen Zhen sat down, she asked, "Are you tired? You don’t look well."

Song Wang’s eyes stayed on his phone. After typing a bit more, he nodded and put the phone away, "Caught an early flight, didn’t sleep much last night."

He handed Cen Zhen the menu, "Order whatever you want."

Cen Zhen casually picked a few dishes. Just as she was about to speak more with Song Wang, she saw him repeatedly pressing his phone to send messages.

For quite a while, he didn’t notice that Cen Zhen had already finished ordering.

Cen Zhen lowered her gaze, swallowing the words she wanted to say, "If you’re busy, you don’t have to specially come out to eat with me."

"Not busy. Ling asked me something," Song Wang put away his phone again and casually reached across the table to hold Cen Zhen’s hand, "How did Director Xie’s audition go?"

Cen Zhen hadn’t received any calls yet. Actually, silence was the expected outcome, but suddenly a stubbornness arose in her. She lifted her glass, took a sip, and said, "Still waiting for news."

Song Wang seemed to see through everything and gently tapped her twice, "Forget it. I’ll see if there’s another team suitable for you."

At first, Song Wang’s words seemed considerate, but Cen Zhen inexplicably felt stung by the phrase "forget it." After a few seconds, she asked, "Why forget it?"

Song Wang: "?"

"You think I’m no good, right?"

Song Wang was slightly taken aback, leaned slowly back in his chair, and sighed, "Zhenzhen, I just want you to be realistic. How could they give a newcomer with no work any big roles? There are so many established stars waiting."

Realistic?

If Cen Zhen were really realistic, the person sitting in front of her now would be Shen Zesheng, those directors handing her room cards, wealthy businessmen—not Song Wang.

Now he was the one lecturing her on reality. It was ironic.

They were momentarily silent, until a ringtone broke the awkwardness. Song Wang stood to answer his call. Cen Zhen lost her appetite and casually opened her phone, seeing a message from Qiao Tingting sent a few minutes ago: "So lively, Shen Zesheng even showed up."

Seeing that name immediately put Cen Zhen on high alert. She quickly replied, "Stay away from him."

Half a minute later, Qiao Tingting casually sent a question mark, "What’s wrong? I’m drinking with him right now."

Cen Zhen remembered meeting Shen Zesheng for the first time at a drinking party introduced by a friend. The friend said he was Manager Shen and advised her to toast him for future resources. Cen Zhen, respectful, went up to toast. One glass wasn’t enough; two glasses too few. He smiled, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes, saying, "You have to drink to have fun."

Cen Zhen knew his tricks too well. But Qiao Tingting was from the music circle and might not know Shen Zesheng as well, maybe even respectful because of his famous investor status.

Cen Zhen warned her again, "Stay away from him. He’s not a good person and will force you to drink."

Qiao Tingting didn’t reply after that message.

Song Wang returned after his call. After a moment of silence, he said, "We don’t need to argue over this. Actually, I can give you money every month for living expenses. You can do whatever you want, not necessarily act."

Cen Zhen opened her eyes slightly, thinking she misheard.

The man who once promised to shine with her in the entertainment industry, act and win awards together, even be a model couple—was he now trying to cage her as a bird in his golden cage?

Cen Zhen smiled, "How much money can you give me?"

Song Wang thought for a moment, then looked up and asked, "How much do you want?"

“…”

Cen Zhen felt estranged toward the person before her. The once spirited young man had now become someone trying to trap her with money. He was kidnapping her in the name of love, becoming a second Shen Zesheng.Cen Zhen tried hard to say something, but when the connecting thread between them broke, only silence remained.

At that moment, Qiao Tingting suddenly called, rang once, then hung up. Cen Zhen felt something was wrong and called back, but was told the phone was off.

Her mind involuntarily imagined some scenes, and her heart tightened. She immediately asked Song Wang, "Do you know Tingting’s manager’s phone number?"

Song Wang: "Don’t know, what’s up?"

"She’s with Shen Zesheng, maybe being forced to drink. I’m worried she’s in trouble." Cen Zhen regretted not asking Qiao Tingting where she was playing earlier. She quickly flipped through her contacts, trying to find someone familiar to ask for clues, when Song Wang’s calm voice came from beside her.

"Don’t make such a big deal out of it. Drinking a bit at social occasions is normal. Besides," Song Wang said indifferently, "Who Shen Zesheng wants to mess with is none of our business."

"Song Wang?" Cen Zhen couldn’t believe how cold his words were. "That’s Tingting, she’s our friend!"

"So what? Are you going to stop it? Who are you? What right do you have?"

"…"

Cen Zhen sensed a flame inside her slowly being extinguished. She didn’t know if it was the lover’s indifference, her own helplessness, or the widening distance between their worlds.

After a long silence, Cen Zhen slowly stood up and, before leaving the private room, softly asked Song Wang,

"What if it was me?"

"What if one day I’m the one being forced to drink? Would you just stand by and watch then?"

—

October in Hucheng was damp and cold at night. Cen Zhen hailed a cab but didn’t know where to go.

She contacted several familiar classmates but couldn’t get Qiao Tingting’s manager’s number. She called Qiao Tingting several times but the phone was always off.

Cen Zhen actually understood that Song Wang’s words were cruel but realistic. Who was she? Shen Zesheng had already suppressed her so thoroughly, she had no ability to help Qiao Tingting.

But she couldn’t calmly watch all this happen either.

Sitting in the taxi, not knowing where to find Qiao Tingting, the colorful night flickered across her face, and suddenly a sentence popped into her mind:

"Do you know Meng Fanchuan? Tonight there’s a party specially organized for him."

Her eyes lit up as if reminded of something. She hurriedly opened her phone.

She had deleted the number but luckily could recover it from the message records.

Her fingertip hovered over the “Call” button, some memories quietly surfacing.

— We probably don’t need to contact each other anymore.

She had said that with such certainty, yet just days later, she was about to be proven wrong.

Cen Zhen didn’t hesitate anymore. She dialed the number and listened to the ringing, her heartbeat pounding heavily in her chest.

Ring after ring, no answer.

Just as Cen Zhen thought Meng Fanchuan wouldn’t pick up the phone of such an unknowing woman, the ringing stopped, and the man’s calm voice came through, "Hello."

The familiar voice inexplicably made Cen Zhen a little nervous.

"Meng Shaoye," she pressed her lips, gave her name to test the waters, "This is Cen Zhen."

No response from the other side, but no hang-up either, as if waiting for her to continue.

After a few seconds, Cen Zhen took a breath, her shoulders slightly drooped, "...Where are you now? I want to see you."