Chapter 49 (1/2): If I don’t think of you, who else can I think of?
The three of them were celebrating 520 in the cafeteria, and on WeChat Moments, Jì FánxÄ«ng posted an update visible only to a select few friends.
【Feeling like I just went through a breakup, even though I’m not dating (dog head)】
ZhÅng Yì saw it and asked with concern: 【What’s wrong?】
Jì FánxÄ«ng replied: 【Remember that script I bought earlier? I asked Director Yu to help pass it to Sister Cen. Just got a reply—Lù Chéng’s schedule is full (heartbroken).】
【But Sister Cen said another artist under her management has availability and promised to have Lù Chéng cameo in a role.】
@Infinite Good Stories, all at Jinjiang Literature City
ZhÅng Yì: 【Are you torn about it?】
Jì FánxÄ«ng: 【How could I be torn! This is a major production, and your Zhou Shíyì promised me that if we lacked investment, I could always reach out to him.
Sister Cen wants to allocate Lù Chéng’s resources to someone else? Not on my watch!】
【That other artist of hers, after getting popular, isn’t as low-key as Lù Chéng. I’m afraid if there’s a scandal, it could drag down the movie.】
She chose Lù Chéng because his character and reputation were reliable.
Jì FánxÄ«ng: 【I’m fine, just a bit frustrated for two minutes. I’ll keep Zhou Shíyì company, and maybe watch Uncle San’s crying video again (sneaky laugh).】
Later that evening, ZhÅng Yì refreshed the trending search list.
After a whole day of viral topics related to her mother, the heat finally started to cool down.
Meanwhile, the tags related to her had long since disappeared.
It was strange—despite such high heat today, phrases like “Jiang Jingyuan’s First Love” and “Suspected Zhong Zhuóhuá’s Involvement Twenty-six Years Ago” didn’t even make it to the trending list.
ZhÅng Yì asked her father: 【Dad, did they suppress those negative topics?】
Jiang Jingyuan: 【Yes.】
ZhÅng Yì: 【Then why weren’t the massive negative trends from late March suppressed?】
Her parents had been photographed downstairs at their Shanghai home back then, and afterwards, all sorts of false rumors about her mother trended.
Jiang Jingyuan: 【They were suppressed. Your mother’s company was handling PR the whole time, and Zhou Shíyì even sent Zhan Liang to manage it.】
The negative material came on fiercely and unexpectedly.
Once the whole internet was discussing it, suppression became impossible.
They had to wait for the heat to naturally die down before fully quelling it.
He added: 【That incident was also used as a distraction for other public opinions.】
ZhÅng Yì: 【Who used it as a diversion?】
Jiang Jingyuan didn’t want to upset his daughter: 【Not found yet. PR companies take money to work, and client privacy matters—they wouldn’t talk recklessly unless they wanted to quit this industry.】
Actually, the truth had already been found.
***
At 9:30 p.m., ZhÅng Zhuóhuá returned home after watching a movie.
She had spent the day out with Shi Fanyin—dining, shopping, watching a film, taking photos of each other—much more enjoyable than dating men.
“Still not asleep?” She glanced at her husband lying on the living room sofa, who was looking at photos from their daughter’s wedding.
Jiang Jingyuan: “It’s only this early; should I be sleeping?”
Did he look like an old man who needed early rest?
He then asked, “How was the restaurant?”
“Not bad.”
“Next time, I’ll go with you.” Jiang Jingyuan closed his tablet.
The place where she and Shi Fanyin had eaten was booked by him; the movie tickets, too.
Even the flagship stores they visited were reserved in advance by him.
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá was in a good mood today, and while shopping, she bought a pendant for him.
In the past, Jiang Jingyuan might have blurted out, “What do I want this for?”
But this time, when she gave it to him, he said, “Nice to hang on the car keys.”
Even though he rarely drove himself.
“Guess who used your trending topic to block that negative news last time?”
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá paused while removing her necklace. “So many agencies, how should I guess?”
“Lù Chéng’s manager.”
“Sister Cen?”
“Yeah. To divert attention for another rising artist she manages.”
That artist had a scandal, so Sister Cen used ZhÅng Zhuóhuá as a shield to buy time to manage her own artist’s negative publicity.
During a small gathering with circle friends, Sister Cen defended ZhÅng Zhuóhuá, clarifying that it was their driver who delivered the concert tickets—intended for Lù Chéng and outsiders to see.
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá was not surprised by this: “This industry is like this—there’s no true sincerity. That’s why I never get too close to Lù Chéng’s manager privately.”
Even Lù Chéng, she guarded against.
Not because she didn’t trust Lù Chéng, but because she was used to trusting no one except her own manager.
She wanted to protect her daughter, letting her grow freely without interference from public opinion.
Even when filming movies, she pretended to know nothing about taking care of children.
Although she spent little time with her daughter, those first few months after birth were spent awake every night just like Jiang Jingyuan.
How could she not know how to care for a child?
When she returned to work shooting, no matter how busy, she video-called her daughter every night from the hotel.
She knew her daughter’s spoiled and sometimes annoying side well.
Jiang Jingyuan asked, “If Lù Chéng found out his manager was ungrateful, would he consider changing managers?”
“No. Besides contracts, Sister Cen has been with him since the start—she knows all his vulnerabilities. Unless absolutely necessary, no one tears ties with their manager; it’s always a lose-lose.”
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá was about to get up from the mirror when Jiang Jingyuan came over to put her necklace on the jewelry stand.
“Ordinary people wouldn’t remember to dig up my old scandals, but Sister Cen has been in this circle a long time; she should know better.”
Twenty-six years ago, rumors about her interfering in Jiang Jingyuan’s relationship and forcing her way through pregnancy gradually disappeared online after the heat cooled, all handled by Jiang Jingyuan.
Who would have thought those rumors would be brought up again twenty-six years later?
Before Jiang Jingyuan revealed who it was, she hadn’t suspected Sister Cen; but once she knew it was her, she wasn’t surprised.
“There are many two-faced people like her in this industry. You think everyone is like Director Yu?”
Director Yu was genuine, especially after a few drinks.
Jiang Jingyuan said, “Your manager and boss are pretty good. Of course, anyone who can survive in this world of fame and fortune has their methods. But at least they have limits.”
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá proudly said, “Of course! What an eye I have!”
Speaking of her boss, Jiang Jingyuan recalled his proposal.
It was on a cruise in the southern hemisphere, witnessed by Yu Laoshi and her husband, her manager, and the couple who owned the agency—but she had refused his proposal.
After she said no, her boss was more anxious than him.
The couple persuaded her until late at night, saying it was just for the sake of finding a nanny for their child.
The next morning, after a night’s thought, ZhÅng Zhuóhuá agreed to the proposal.
“Let’s leave it at that,” ZhÅng Zhuóhuá didn’t want to dwell on it. “Helping Lù Chéng was my choice.”
She was always grateful to Lù Chéng—her daughter had three happy high school years with someone to talk to and grow with.
“Xiao Yì hopes his dream comes true. I’ll just think of it as helping my own daughter achieve her youthful dream.”
“After this, bridges go back to being bridges, roads back to roads.”
“Don’t tell our daughter about this; she’ll blame herself again.”
Jiang Jingyuan, less easygoing than his wife, said, “I can let this go, but Sister Cen’s use of you to block that other artist’s scandal—what must be exposed, must be exposed. Your scandal was all rumors, but that other artist’s is a character issue.”
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá no longer resisted; who doesn’t like to feel protected by someone who cares?
Back then, what she cared most about wasn’t Yang Jiayuan as a person, but that he seemed incapable of loving anyone as devotedly as he did his first love.
Seeing his wife gazing into the mirror, Jiang Jingyuan walked over. “What’s wrong?”
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá snapped out of it and shook her head. “Nothing.”
She turned and hugged his waist, leaning on him. “We walked almost twenty thousand steps today. I’m tired.”
Jiang Jingyuan: “It’s because of all the wedding preparations lately. Let’s find somewhere to relax for a few days.”
Their daughter now had someone taking care of her, so he no longer worried.
ZhÅng Zhuóhuá nodded. “Okay.”
“I feel like I’ve been tired for twenty-six years, now I just want a quiet seaside to truly relax.”
That very night, Sister Cen’s other artist was hit by a scandal trending on WeChat Moments.
Though there was no concrete proof, various screenshots stirred up trouble.
It was enough to upset Sister Cen, who was already asleep but got woken up to manage the crisis.
Even though they had suppressed it and handled everything properly, why was it resurfacing after a month?
The next morning, ZhÅng Yì saw the related trending topic.
She was familiar with the artist—someone on the rise this year.
Without reading the details, she glanced at the list, saw no topics related to her mother, and exited.
Last night, Zhou Sùjìn responded that Kuncheng Semiconductor was willing to participate in the Kuncheng Motors project.
The second good news after the wedding.
However, the chip team still lacked a core member.
The Jinghe Chip Team had many leaders, but all had ongoing projects and conflicting schedules.
The only one with free time, Tang Nuoyun, had dropped out due to reasons unknown.
Her parents planned to travel and didn’t want their vacation spoiled, so ZhÅng Yì hadn’t asked her father about Tang Nuoyun yet.
“Why are you spacing out during overtime?”
A voice suddenly sounded beside her, making ZhÅng Yì jump.
She and Zhou Shíyì were both busy working in the study.
He was attending the Kuncheng Motors launch event tomorrow, which would debut a new line targeting the new energy high-end market.
For decades, Kuncheng Motors had focused on the mid-tier market.
From Kuncheng Group to the automotive board, this launch was taken very seriously.
As the new president, Zhou Shíyì naturally had to attend.
ZhÅng Yì sipped her coffee and honestly said, “I was just thinking about Tang Nuoyun.”
Zhou Shíyì paused and looked at her. “Still struggling with us getting to know each other through this marriage?”
“This time, no,” ZhÅng Yì explained. “I’m thinking about how to push the project forward. You know how important chip design is.” She paused. “But somehow, I ended up thinking about my dad’s past.”
Zhou Shíyì: “You haven’t told him yet?”
“No.”
“If you don’t know how to say it, I’ll say it for you.”
“No need. They’re going on vacation—let’s wait until they’re back. No rush in the next three to five days.”
ZhÅng Yì picked up her phone beside the computer and set an alarm for five minutes later.
Giving herself five minutes to daydream, she leaned back in her chair, sipped her coffee, and stared at the oil painting on the wall, deciding not to think about her father’s past or their own history.
She recalled how back then, whenever he went on a business trip, she would send him messages saying she missed him during breaks.