Chapter 58
Zhao Yu’s work schedule had been pretty consistent lately — basically just shuttling between home and the rehearsal room. She hadn’t been bringing her assistant along, giving the whole team a little break, and drove herself everywhere.
Shen Juanyi sent a message to Xiao Shi telling him not to pick him up for now, then trotted after Zhao Yu to the garage.
Zhao Yu had gotten her driver’s license in China a few years ago. Other than wasting some time on the written exam — no matter how many years passed, theory tests were always a hurdle for someone who’d never been great at academics — she’d passed the rest of the tests smoothly.
Her instructor even told her she had the potential to be a race car driver, though she wasn’t sure if he was saying that just to get his daughter an autographed photo.
On a whim, she’d bought a rugged off-road vehicle that supposedly could handle long hauls of thirty thousand kilometers — though so far, she’d driven it less than ten thousand in total.
She was tall and slender, and under normal circumstances no one would ever describe her as “petite.” But standing next to that beast of an SUV — especially once she got into the driver’s seat — she looked surprisingly small.
Shen Juanyi eyed the row of aggressive headlights on the front, clicked his tongue, and got into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt. “This thing’s huge. Can you even handle it?”
Zhao Yu said, “Nope, I really can’t.” She turned her head and gave him a cool look. “So why aren’t you out there pushing?”
Shen Juanyi: “…………”
He wisely shut his yap.
Zhao Yu was indeed a solid driver — steady and smooth. As they hit the road under the bright neon of early summer night, she remembered she hadn’t put on her glasses and asked Shen Juanyi, “Grab my glasses from the glove box.”
Shen Juanyi said, “You’re nearsighted?”
Zhao Yu squinted. “Astigmatism. I need them for night driving.”
Astigmatism was torture for anyone driving at night. Without glasses, the world was just a blur of colorful lights — she could barely even make out the numbers on traffic signals.
Shen Juanyi popped open the compartment, rummaged around, and found the gold-rimmed glasses inside. He glanced at Zhao Yu, focused intently on the road, thought for a moment, unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned over.
Zhao Yu jumped, nearly swerving the wheel. “What are you doing?! I’ll do it myself!”
Shen Juanyi reached out and pressed her head gently. “Don’t move. Keep your eyes on the road!”
They’d already merged into traffic, with cars on both sides. Zhao Yu didn’t dare get distracted — she kept her eyes forward, letting him lean over and put the glasses on her.
As the temple piece settled over her right ear, his fingers brushed past her earlobe, and he thoughtfully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear for her.
At that angle and distance, it was practically an embrace.
By the time he sat back down, Zhao Yu had already rolled down the window. The night wind howled in. Shen Juanyi buckled back up. “Why’d you open the window?”
Before she could answer, he let out a knowing, drawn-out “Oh — you’re trying to get us on trending together, aren’t you?”
Zhao Yu shot him a furious glare and rolled the window back up. “Shut up! Don’t distract me!”
Shen Juanyi pouted and turned to look at the nightscape outside. But the window reflected her profile as she drove.
Something about it — whether for a man or a woman — driving with that focused intensity just looked especially cool. With her gold-rimmed glasses, Zhao Yu’s vibe was different from usual — she radiated a sophisticated, mature elegance.
How could one person’s beauty be so multifaceted?
Like a wild rose, like a night-blooming jasmine, and now like an elegant tulip.
Shen Juanyi stared at her reflection in the window for a while, then turned to look at the real thing.
Zhao Yu, though fully concentrated on driving, caught his gaze from the corner of her eye. She glanced sideways at him. “What are you staring at?”
Shen Juanyi said, “Looking at how pretty you are.”
Zhao Yu had braced herself for some snarky remark from his dog mouth, but instead he suddenly complimented her, catching her completely off guard.
Before she could react, Shen Juanyi sighed and added, “Our Xiao Yu’s really grown up to be so beautiful now.”
Zhao Yu’s goosebumps exploded. “Shut up!”
Shen Juanyi grinned. “What? Embarrassed?”
She turned and glared at him viciously. “If you don’t want us on the evening news, shut your mouth!”
Usually, Zhao Yu would drive home singing along to music. Now with a noise blaster in the passenger seat chattering nonstop, the drive felt twice as long.
This was Shen Juanyi’s second time at her place since that night he’d gotten drunk.
Even though it was only his second visit, he acted like it was his own home, casually opening the shoe cabinet, swapping his shoes, then flopping onto the sofa and grabbing the remote to turn on the TV.
The channel happened to be on a music station, playing a clip from one of Zhao Yu’s commercial performances last year.
Shen Juanyi turned back to ask, “You watch your own stuff at home?”
Zhao Yu replied flatly, “If you say one more word, I’m pushing you off the balcony, and we’ll make trending together tomorrow.”
Shen Juanyi pressed his lips together, made a zipping motion across his mouth, and quietly turned back to watch TV.
Zhao Yu snorted and went to change into comfy clothes. After washing her hands, she opened the fridge and pulled out a bag of frozen dumplings. Boiling them took only about ten minutes. She only cooked some greens for herself and was carrying the bowls out when she saw Shen Juanyi standing in the corner of the living room, playing with her fish.
He turned around. “Didn’t notice you had fish too when I was here last time.”
Zhao Yu set the bowls on the dining table, recalling all the fish he’d kept killing. “That ‘too’ is generous. Yours wasn’t raising — that was sending fish to their death.”
Shen Juanyi pouted.
Zhao Yu untied her apron and draped it over the chair back, pulling out a seat. “Alright, come eat.”
The warm yellow light from the dining room cast a cozy glow over the marble tabletop. Shen Juanyi washed his hands and sat down across from her. He looked at her bowl of bland, unappetizing greens, then at his own bowl of perfectly plump dumplings, and pushed it toward her. “Have two.”
Zhao Yu firmly refused. “No! It’s this late already — I already feel guilty just eating these greens.”
Shen Juanyi scooped up a dumpling with his spoon and held it out. “Just one.”
Zhao Yu clamped her hands protectively over her bowl. “No no no no! I’m not eating it!”
Shen Juanyi stood up, stretched his long arm across the table, and popped it straight into her mouth.
Zhao Yu sat there in a daze, the dumpling already in her mouth. Shen Juanyi grinned in satisfaction and sat back down. “You rehearsed all day and didn’t eat dinner. How can you survive on just that? You female celebs, practically killing yourselves over your figures.”
He stirred his dumplings, then looked up to find Zhao Yu frozen, staring at him. He eyed her with suspicion. “Why that face? Did you put some kind of dark cuisine in there?”
Cheek still full of dumpling, Zhao Yu said somewhat numbly, “Don’t you need me to get you a different spoon?”
Shen Juanyi blinked, then looked at the spoon in his hand. “You mind?” He set it aside and picked up the chopsticks. “We used to share popsicles back in the day — I thought you wouldn’t care. I’ll use chopsticks, then.”
Even though years had passed, the moment he brought it up, that sweltering summer day with the cicadas screaming came rushing back with vivid clarity.
Back then, the happiest thing was going to the corner store with him to pick out popsicles.
She really found this person annoying.
She’d already let go.
The warm lamplight reflected in his sparkling eyes. He tapped his chopsticks. “It’s not poisoned, is it? Okay, I’m digging in.”
No matter how good frozen dumplings were, they could never beat homemade ones. But when he lowered his head, he caught a long-missed scent.
It was the homemade sesame oil from their neighbor back home, Auntie Zhang.
He couldn’t handle spicy food well, but he had a particular weakness for numbing flavors. His absolute favorite was Auntie Zhang’s homemade sesame oil — a local specialty. As a kid, he’d add it to everything he ate, especially noodles and dumplings. He’d pour in several big spoonfuls until the sesame oil coated the entire soup surface — just smelling it made his tongue tingle.
When his grandmother was still alive, she’d mail him bottles of it to Beijing regularly.
But his schedule was too hectic; he rarely ate at home. He couldn’t exactly carry a bottle of sesame oil with him everywhere he went. Only when he returned to Hangzhou could he indulge properly.
Then his grandmother passed away, and no one else knew about this little quirk of his. It had been a very, very long time since he’d tasted that flavor.
He’d heard that Auntie Zhang’s shop no longer sold sesame oil either. Aside from family, the good things from memory would also fade and leave, one by one. He’d long understood and accepted that.
The sesame oil in the bowl was clearly more than a normal amount — it coated nearly every single dumpling.
Shen Juanyi looked up at the girl across from him.
She was in her loungewear, her long hair still tied up in a high ponytail, but the top was messy and loose, revealing the casual sloppiness she only allowed at home. Her bowl of greens looked utterly unappetizing, yet she still ate them with relish.
When she noticed him staring, she turned away a little awkwardly, then snapped, “If you don’t eat it, it’ll get mushy!”
Shen Juanyi laughed for no apparent reason. “Is your sesame oil free or something? You put in this much.”
Zhao Yu glanced into his bowl, puzzled. “You don’t like it?”
She remembered he loved it. As a kid, he’d even tried to get her to try it — and it numbed her so badly she nearly bit through her tongue.
Shen Juanyi, perhaps remembering the same thing, smiled even brighter. He lowered his head and said very softly, “I love it.”
He finished the entire bowl of dumplings, down to the last drop of soup.
Zhao Yu was amazed. “You were that hungry? Are you full? Want me to make another bowl?”
Shen Juanyi patted his stomach contentedly. “Save it for next time.”
Xiao Shi called, his voice panicked. “Ge, you’re not planning to stay over at Xiao Yu’s place tonight, are you? When should I come pick you up?!”
As a devoted Yumeiren, he was truly terrified.
Thankfully, Shen Juanyi didn’t do anything that would make him lose his mind and told him to come pick him up now.
Xiao Shi sighed in relief and said happily, “I’ve actually been waiting in Xiao Yu’s garage for half an hour already! Ge, come down quick! Wear your hat and mask so no one spots you!”
Shen Juanyi was definitely going to fire this disloyal, brainless fanboy someday!
With the film nearing completion, there were many pickup shots to do, and it would be hard to ask for more time off later. On their last day, they finalized the dance portions and ran through all three songs together one more time. Once everything was confirmed, Shen Juanyi returned to the set to continue filming.
This production had a longer shooting schedule than his previous ones. Period dramas demanded meticulous attention to detail, and the producers had been aiming for a Central Television slot from the start. The expected wrap date was mid-June, but since Shen Juanyi had to be a guest performer, they rearranged his scenes to be shot earlier. By early June, all his parts were finished.
By then, online buzz about the two top-tier stars’ reunion concert had reached a fever pitch.
Fans who’d secured tickets were gleefully preparing for the trip. Those who hadn’t vowed that even if they couldn’t get in, they’d sit outside the venue and listen to the entire show.
Since it was Zhao Yu’s concert, the majority of ticket holders were Yumeiren. The Yiren had been in the top-tier fandom scene for years and knew exactly what to do and what not to do. Despite all the bold talk before tickets went on sale, as the concert drew near, they posted reminders in their supertopic: those attending must not overshadow the host — no light boards or red light sticks when their brother wasn’t on stage. Respect the home turf.
Earlier, Bi Zhou had been worried that shipping fans might provoke backlash from both solo fanbases and cause a war. But surprisingly, since the announcement, there had been very few shippers.
Everyone seemed to agree that the two top-tier stars joining forces was an unprecedented event in the entertainment industry — a milestone in fandom culture! It was solemn! Sacred! Shipping would be disrespectful to such a hallowed occasion!
Still, “few” didn’t mean “none.” There had always been a tiny faction of fans shipping the top-tier romance, but both fanbases were too fierce, and the two stars had clearly kept their distance with no collaborations. These shippers were basically force-feeding themselves sugar — if exposed, they’d be ridiculed by everyone. So they shipped with extreme restraint, keeping to their own little corner.
This long-awaited reunion on stage, for these shippers surviving in the cracks, was like a ray of light from the abyss, the sun in the dead of winter — it gave them a one-in-ten-thousand sliver of hope.
Amid universal anticipation, the concert finally arrived as scheduled.