`Chapter 31

Chapter 31

“Miss Shiyin, is the temperature still comfortable? Let me know if it’s too high or too low.”

“There’s mineral water and sparkling water in the cup holder. Take whichever you want. Shall we set off?”

Master Cheng’s service was professional and attentive, his tone warm without being overbearing, the kind of considerate attentiveness comparable to a top-tier luxury car driver.

Shiyin was staring blankly out the window, and only after a beat did she absentmindedly turn her head. “Ah? Okay…” After the car went past one intersection, she couldn’t help but lean forward, dazed as if sleepwalking, and asked, “Master Cheng, this car… it really was Li Xuan who had you deliver it?”

“Yes, the boss just got it. The plates haven’t even been issued yet.”

Master Cheng activated the turn signal and merged into traffic, naturally chatting as he drove. “It must be tough for a young lady like you, running around filming all the time. Taking taxis every day isn’t convenient. Having a car to pick you up at least makes things safer.”

As he spoke, he skillfully overtook two cars. His movements were fluid, yet the ride was so stable that one wouldn’t feel a hint of bumpiness.

“Miss Shiyin, do you like a starry ceiling?” Master Cheng was talkative, and once the box opened, he couldn’t stop. “If you like, we can make one. Sitting in the car at night with stars above your head—how romantic. The license plate? Any numbers you like in particular? The boss said everything can be set according to your preference.”

Miss Shiyin was a little stunned by the repeated use of “Miss Shiyin” and the meticulous care.

No way… Really? He’s serious? He’s actually giving it to her?

She leaned back in her seat, her fingertips curling slightly, a faint sense of dizzy unreality rising in her chest. Her gaze involuntarily wandered around the interior—the six-seat MPV had elegant and understated platinum-colored interior, soft and clean light gray carpeting, and middle aviation-style seats wide enough for her to fully nestle in and stretch her legs freely. This configuration, these details, were exactly like Li Xuan’s A88688 model, only this one was newer, radiating an even more pristine elegance.

“But I don’t have a driver’s license. Even if you give it to me, I can’t drive it,” Shiyin murmured.

Master Cheng let out a hearty laugh from his throat. “Miss Shiyin, who buys a car to drive it themselves?”

Shiyin: “……” Ouch, that stings.

She pressed her lips together, trying to regain a bit of composure. “I can’t even afford a driver.”

“Am I not your driver?” Master Cheng replied matter-of-factly.

“Ah?” Shiyin’s brain short-circuited for a moment. She blurted out, “He’s giving me you too?”

“Haha, Miss Shiyin, you really know how to joke,” Master Cheng was amused by her reaction. “Consider this a business trip, with a stipend. Assistant Luo has already arranged everything, so just sit back and relax!”

By this point, Shiyin had completely lost her temper.

She collapsed into the seat like a cat pancake. The wide chair enveloped her perfectly, giving her a sense of being wrapped in clouds, an extreme comfort.

Damn it, why is this so comfortable! I don’t want to get up!

No, she couldn’t just accept it blindly. The remnants of her rational mind made Shiyin reach for her phone to clarify with Li Xuan. But after swiping through her contacts for a while, she belatedly realized a serious problem—

She didn’t have Li Xuan’s contact information.

Their previous meetings had been purely by chance, arriving and leaving randomly, never thinking to exchange numbers.

Instinctively, Shiyin thought to ask Assistant Luo, but the thought was immediately suppressed. Luo’s eyes, always scrutinizing and distant, seemed to appear before her. She could almost imagine how he would interpret such a request—surely he’d think she had ulterior motives.

“Master Cheng, please just take me back to the hotel,” Shiyin said in a low voice, fully surrendering.

She silently criticized her own sweetness-corroded self in her mind, then pressed the side button to slowly recline the footrest, adjusted herself in the seat, found the most comfortable position, and contentedly—laid back.

Fine, let me be decadent then. Shiyin thought drowsily. At least this decadence is really comfortable.

~

The next morning, Shiyin pretended nothing had happened. As usual, she sent a message to Assistant Luo: “Assistant Luo, my schedule is light recently. When should I resume work?”

After a while, Luo replied: “No need for now. Prince has to go out.”

Shiyin froze, her first reaction: …The Prince is going out himself?

His Highness the Prince going incognito?

The next second, she couldn’t help but tap her forehead, amused by this absurd thought. Even the Border Collie, no matter how clever, couldn’t handle this. Normally, it could follow her and Kevin, fine, but going out would surely require accompaniment. And by the Prince’s proud personality, the one who could make him willingly go out…

Shiyin’s crow-feather-like eyelashes fluttered lightly. Suddenly, she understood.

So Luo’s unspoken meaning was…

Li Xuan was going out, and he would bring Prince along.

When Tian Tian heard that she only went out for a single meal yet received an extra top-of-the-line van with a dedicated driver, she was so shocked that she dropped the bag of chips in her hands. For the rest of the day, she alternated between wanting to speak and holding back, her eyes full of “I have so many questions.”

Shiyin couldn’t stand her burning gaze and put down the script in surrender: “…I can explain.”

“Alright, you explain.” Tian Tian picked at her ear and posed as if to “listen attentively.”

Shiyin opened her mouth and organized her words for a long time: “Forget it, it’s a bit complicated… I’d better—”

“Who does that!” Tian Tian pounced and shook her shoulders. “You cut the melon in half and then hid it again? That’s too unfair!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.” Dizzy from the shaking, Shiyin braced herself and started rambling. “Actually… I took a part-time job. The clients are a bit special. This car… is like… an employee benefit?”

She added silently in her mind: purebred Border Collie—special enough, right?

Tian Tian nodded seriously. “Okay, I believe you.”

Shiyin couldn’t help but call her out: “…Your expression gave you away.”

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide. Tian Tian broke first, lowering her voice: “This part-time job… reliable, right? Doesn’t involve selling your looks?”

“Nope,” Shiyin waved her hand casually, “what’s being ‘sold’ is physical effort.”

Tian Tian’s eyes widened, and she gasped: “What are you talking about… Be careful!”

Shiyin laughed and cried at the same time: “What are you thinking? I’m walking someone’s dog! Walking the dog!”

“Oh—!!!” Tian Tian dramatically exhaled. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? You scared me to death.”

She quieted down for a moment, gently nudging Shiyin’s shoulder. “Actually, you don’t have to tell me everything. Everyone has their own secrets. I know you’re very independent,” she became serious as she spoke, “but you must protect yourself. If trouble arises, remember to tell me. I might not be much help, but it’s better to have one more person losing hair with you.”

Shiyin felt a warmth in her heart. “I know, but I really, really haven’t had any trouble. Don’t worry.”

The filming of Jianqiao continued steadily, and another week passed in the blink of an eye.

Tian Tian went to buy her some hot eggs, and Shiyin dragged her leaden legs out of the set. After a whole day of crying scenes, her eyes were sore, her throat dry, and her emotions completely drained. At this moment, she especially missed the aviation-style seat in the van that allowed one to fully relax.

Just as she tiptoed to find Master Cheng, her peripheral vision caught a black MPV quietly parked under a tree nearby.

It was low-key, blending almost entirely with the dusk.

Shiyin’s gaze unconsciously slid down, landing on the familiar license plate—

Yue A88688.

She paused for a moment, then walked to the car and gently tapped the window.

The door slid open silently. The first thing to appear wasn’t the expected person, but a smiling face sticking its tongue out.

“Woof!”

Prince excitedly poked his head out from the back seat, but his chubby body was wedged firmly against the front seat, stuck in place, panicking as he kicked his hind legs and barked anxiously.

“Woof woof!”

“Hahaha, stuck, huh!”

Shiyin couldn’t help laughing, holding her stomach and mercilessly teasing him. The exhaustion of the day seemed to dissipate a bit.

Prince’s ears drooped, looking pitiful. “…Whine.”

At that moment, a well-defined hand reached over and lightly pressed the seat adjustment button. The front seat moved forward slowly, freeing Prince, who immediately leapt into Shiyin’s arms, his wet nose rubbing against her chin nonstop.

“How did you get here?” Shiyin laughed as he tickled her, rubbing his fluffy head.

She lifted her gaze over the spoiled dog in her lap and toward the shadows inside the car.

Li Xuan sat quietly in the wheelchair, wearing a black turtleneck sweater that made his skin appear even paler. He had no extra adornments, looking ordinary, yet his entire presence felt like a deep sea immersed in night, the metal outline of the wheelchair giving off a serene aura.

“Filming done?” Li Xuan’s voice was low, tinged with his characteristic coolness.

Shiyin nodded, picking up Prince. “Just finished. How did you get here?”

“On the way.” Li Xuan was concise, his gaze sweeping past her reddened eyes before settling on the tail-wagging Prince. “Get in.”

Shiyin sent Tian Tian a message: “Don’t wait for me,” and bent down to slip into the car. Just as she fastened her seatbelt, Zhou Yunfeng started the vehicle smoothly, slowly driving away from the set.

“Prince’s mother competed today,” Li Xuan said, looking out at the rapidly passing plane trees. “He saw the scene and got a little overexcited. Originally, I wanted you to let him run a couple of laps.”

“What kind of competition is so exciting?” Shiyin asked, curious.

“The World Agility Dog Championship, Collie group champion.”

“Wow—” Shiyin exclaimed, scratching Prince’s chin. “So you’re the descendant of a champion. No wonder you’re so amazing~”

“Woof woof!” Prince seemed to understand and responded appropriately, his round eyes full of pride.

He refused to return to the back seat and obediently curled up on the floor mat between them. His fluffy tail occasionally brushed Shiyin’s ankles, sometimes lightly touching Li Xuan’s pants, as if silently connecting the two worlds.

The car fell into a brief silence, only the faint sound of warm air from the AC. Shiyin quietly turned her head, her gaze landing on Li Xuan’s calm profile.

The dusk filtered through the window, casting a soft halo on his features. Shiyin suddenly felt a strange sense of dissonance—the pale, indifferent man before her, free from desire or ambition, was the same person as the relaxed, carefree figure she had seen in the golden gossip media, yet it felt like they existed in two parallel realities.

She cleared her throat softly. “Um… you gave me a car?”

Li Xuan’s gaze returned from the window. “Yes.”

“I feel,” Shiyin carefully chose her words, “that you might not fully understand the scale of gift-giving between friends.”

She had checked the price. This was a million-level gift. Being friends with wealthy people really tests your psychological endurance.

“What scale?”

“Let me give you an example,” Shiyin counted on her fingers to explain. “Like last time, Prince treated me to breakfast. I swiped his card to buy scallion pancakes and soy milk. That’s a normal scale. As friends, you don’t need to pay it back.”

Prince agreed: “Woof.”

“Mm,” Li Xuan’s eyelashes lowered as he precisely reported the amount, “you spent eighteen yuan fifty cents.”

“That’s right!”

“…There’s still 6,999,981.5 yuan left in his account.”

Shiyin froze instantly, her mouth forming an oval. “Wait… what did you say?!”

“Based on this ratio, buying the car cost one million. There’s still…”

“Stop!” Shiyin hurriedly covered her ears. “I don’t want to know the exact number! Thank you!”

Li Xuan: “…The scale is reasonable.”

“That’s not even the point!” Shiyin glared at him. “How can you put that much money on Prince’s little genius smartwatch… No, no, the point is how can you compare yourself to him—”

“So,” Li Xuan interrupted calmly, “what he spends is fine, but what I give isn’t?”

Shiyin was momentarily speechless. “…That’s not what I meant.”

The direction of the conversation seemed to be going wrong.

“I mean, your gift is too valuable, I can’t S—” Shiyin tried to explain.

Before she could say “receive,” she noticed Li Xuan’s lowered eyelashes. Even more terrifying, his +3 favorability score began shaking wildly, like a signal light with poor reception.

Shiyin’s pupils trembled: !!

NOOOOOO! It’s over! Over!! Over!!! My favorability! My mission!!

“I can’t take it for free!” she immediately corrected herself, raising her voice eight octaves and showering praise. “The seat in that car is super comfortable. It’s the same model as yours, right? I already told Master Cheng that the person who bought this car has excellent taste! I really like it!”

Shiyin anxiously watched the meter, noticing the shaking gradually subside, finally settling on a small notch just to the right of +3.

Huh? Shiyin secretly rubbed her eyes. Did the favorability… increase a little?

Li Xuan’s expression remained calm, giving nothing away.

“Do you want anything? I can return the favor,” Shiyin thought for a moment and asked politely.

“What are you filming?” Li Xuan remained unmoved, his gaze lightly drifting to her unfinished Republican-era curls.

“A historical drama, still in production.” Shiyin hesitated, her brain racing. “You want to watch my drama?”

“New drama?”

“Recently, the only thing that can air… is ‘Reverse Scale,’ I guess.” Shiyin thought of the side quest released by the system and tentatively said, “If you want to watch it, why not help push the progress?”

She had a feeling that the little assistant was deliberately tempting her with two intermediate skill rewards, urging her to get Li Xuan’s help, just to get Reverse Scale ready as soon as possible. Could something go wrong with this drama?

Would Liang Yicheng’s reputation collapse soon?

“Post-production moving slowly?” Li Xuan asked.

“It’s rather tedious,” Shiyin explained. “Modern dramas’ post-production emphasizes ‘removing the false and keeping the true,’ striving for extreme realism. Reverse Scale has many veteran actors, and the crew uses synchronous sound. On set, there’s all kinds of noise—planes, cars, air conditioning… all of this needs to be cleaned frame by frame, then carefully replaced with detailed environmental sounds to create a real sense of space.”

The more she explained, the more she felt pressed for time. “If it doesn’t pass the review, lines need to be re-recorded by every actor to match lip movements. Color grading must unify the tone, special effects must erase mistakes, music must fit the rhythm… The normal production cycle takes six months to a year. A high-quality anti-corruption drama like Reverse Scale, aiming for movie-level standards, invests even more in visuals and sound, extending the cycle to at least ten months. It’s been less than three months since wrap, probably just finished rough editing…”

Thinking about the system requiring it to air during the Spring Festival slot, Shiyin couldn’t help but frown.

Li Xuan mused: “Can it be sped up?”

“It’s not completely impossible,” Shiyin’s eyes suddenly lit up. “When Reverse Scale started filming, a professional post-production director was involved. If we can get a top-tier post-production team, bring sound and effects in during the rough cut, and streamline the review process… maybe we can finish before the Spring Festival.” Her voice gradually lowered as she spoke, realizing how idealistic the plan sounded.

Li Xuan nodded. “It’s doable.”

He looked down at his phone, his long fingers tapping lightly on the screen, sending a few messages.

“Sorry,” Shiyin said sheepishly, pursing her lips. “I’m asking you to throw money at this again… If it goes wrong, I—I’ll compensate you…” She bit her teeth in distress.

“No compensation needed.” Li Xuan put away his phone, his tone calm. “Wensheng will assemble a professional team with dedicated personnel. Risk assessments will be done in advance.”

Shiyin: “…”

So this is a capitalist? Too good at making money breed money. For them, earning a thousand is hard, but earning a hundred million is just a small goal?

Remembering that they hadn’t exchanged contact information yet, Shiyin silently pulled out her phone. “Um… should we add each other as friends? I’ll scan yours, you scan mine?”

Li Xuan directly handed her his phone. “You do it.”

Shiyin took the phone, still warm with his body heat, and opened the pristine WeChat interface, not even a red dot on it. The recent chat log was with Luo Wensheng. Below, a contact labeled “Brother” had a simple sun sketch as the avatar, the latest message reading: “Returning to the capital for New Year?”

Li Xuan hadn’t replied yet.

Shiyin, embarrassed to look too long, quickly used his WeChat to scan her QR code, completing the add.

Zhou Yunfeng drove the car into a villa by the lake in the She Mountain estate. Even though Li Xuan said exercise wasn’t necessary, Shiyin responsibly let Prince “lead” her for two full laps until she was exhausted, holding her knees and panting, her hair tips damp with the lake’s mist.

Perhaps due to sufficient exercise, she slept especially soundly that night. No fragmented dreams disturbed her; only deep, sweet sleep gently wrapped her. When she opened her eyes, the sun was already bright.

The filming of Jianqiao 1937 gradually approached its end.

Half a month before the New Year, the official Weibo of the drama Reverse Scale suddenly released a series of character posters for “Dragon Scale Shadow” and the first teaser for “Jiankang Turbulence,” captioned: “A dormant guardian? Or a disguised wolf? When the bottom line is trampled and the reverse scale is touched, this storm sweeping through black and white spares no one.”

At the same time, it was officially announced that the drama would air starting February 14, exclusively on @PeachVideo and simultaneously on @CCTV-8.

#TVDramaReverseScaleScheduled#

#JusticeIsTheUntouchableReverseScale#

Shiyin watched the trending topics rapidly climb and couldn’t help opening WeChat to send “Doraemon·Li Xuan” an emoji of an elegant lady holding a glass of red wine.

“Cheers to our friendship.jpg”

Li Xuan replied instantly: “?”

Shiyin had already opened the Jiankang Turbulence teaser. Though only two minutes long, it contained massive information.

It opened with aerial shots of a torrential downpour, distant sirens faintly audible. The night view of Jiankang City flowed in neon lights, twisting into a blur of fleeting shadows. Suddenly, the scene cut to Zhou Mu wearing a faded old jacket, resolutely pushing open the doors of a luxurious banquet hall.

“This city is bright and dazzling, but where the light doesn’t reach, insects breed,” Zhou Mu’s voiceover came, low and resolute.

The camera cut like a heartbeat: countless ledgers fluttered like snow, stacks of cash piled into walls, smuggled containers lifted in the night, surveillance footage of underground casinos flickering.

Next, Liang Yicheng, in a suit, raised a glass toward Zhou Mu at a charity gala, lips curling in a subtle smile. “Old classmate, clear water holds no fish. Some order is more effective than the law.”

One stood in the dazzling light, the other hidden in shadow—their difference in status was undeniable.

A gunshot rang out, and the music abruptly stopped.

Chen Shouzhuo, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, expressionless, pressed his opponent into the water. Bubbles surged on the surface, yet he leisurely wiped his fingertips with a white handkerchief.

At the same time, at a construction site under the Dingsheng Group, a corpse was being dug out from the mud.

“Has he made this place his own kingdom?” Zhou Mu’s fist slammed heavily against the wall plastered with case photos.

Their mutual friend Xu Yaqing awoke from a nightmare. Veteran actors portrayed various forces in succession: seemingly loyal yet treacherous police officials, smiling tycoons with hidden daggers, underground bosses each scheming their own plots… Faces flashed in the storm, all staring into the same abyss.

A gunfight at the docks was about to erupt. Led by Zhou Mu, the SWAT team clashed fiercely with the criminal forces.

The young underworld heiress Chen Xiang wore a trench coat, her black hair simply pinned up. In front of a room full of ruthless leaders, her gaze was icy, her presence overwhelming. She lowered her eyes toward Chen Shouzhuo’s tombstone, slowly pouring a cup of white liquor onto the camera.

Yet Chen Shouzhuo, who should have long rested underground, quietly emerged from the shadows, silently watching the scene.

Countless fragments of memory shattered like glass, the rhythm accelerating until the screen plunged into complete black.

Blood-red title characters exploded onto the screen: Reverse Scale!

White subtitles, sharp as drawn blades, followed immediately: Justice is the untouchable reverse scale.

The final frame focused on Chen Shouzhuo’s eyes—a dynamic shift from gentle to sinister, chilling to the bone.

Author’s Note: Want to suppress Chen Xiang’s breakout style?

Little hint: Lv4 is a nationwide hot-topic level, and there were hints earlier in the play-within-the-play. What do audiences love to see? [Dog head holding a rose]