Song Yuran did not mention any details, nor did she offer any explanation to her assistant.
Jia Dou had already grown accustomed to Song Yuran bearing everything on her own. Assistants like her could no longer breach that isolated island of tranquility deep within Song Yuran’s inner world.
She did not ask further, following Song Yuran’s arrangements completely. Whatever her boss said went.
“How much does Sheng An know about last night?” Song Yuran asked.
“I haven’t had the chance to discuss it in detail with Teacher Sheng yet. She currently doesn’t know that after the banquet last night, you didn’t head straight home,” Jia Dou answered honestly.
Sheng An was Song Yuran’s manager, having guided her since the very beginning of her career. Over all these years, the two of them had weathered numerous storms together side by side.
In Jia Dou’s eyes, her boss, Song Yuran, was a person with a slow and steady temperament. She spoke at a leisurely, unhurried pace and maintained an unwavering calmness in the face of any situation. No matter how major the crisis over the years, she had almost never seen Song Yuran panic or lose her composure.
However, manager Sheng An was completely the opposite. She was a fast-paced, impatient person.
Sheng An’s words and actions were always rushing like a storm. Whenever any issue arose, the commotion she made felt as though the earth was about to explode. If Sheng An assigned a task and they failed to complete it immediately, it wouldn’t be long before a phone call came through demanding accountability.
Therefore, for Jia Dou, she would much rather spend time interacting with Song Yuran than face Sheng An head-on.
“Since she doesn’t know, there is no need to tell her,” Song Yuran said.
“Ah?” Jia Dou blinked in surprise. Meeting Song Yuran’s dark, deep, and tranquil yet unquestionable gaze, she nodded subconsciously. “Oh, alright.”
“Right, why don’t you head back first for now, and I will get some rest. I’m sorry for dragging you along to stay awake the whole night. You’ve worked hard,” Song Yuran said to her warmly with that pleasant voice of hers.
“It wasn’t hard at all, not hard at all.” Even after working alongside Song Yuran for so many years, Jia Dou still felt a little flattered every time Song Yuran thanked her.
Before leaving, however, she blinked and asked Song Yuran with some lingering concern, “Ran-jie, are you… really alright after last night?”
Then, Song Yuran smiled.
Under Jia Dou’s gaze, the blooming of that smile in that instant truly allowed one to experience what it meant to be peerless and breathtaking. It was as if the surrounding air was intoxicated by that smile, and anyone who witnessed it would wish they could hold their breath and surrender themselves entirely to it forever.
“What could possibly be wrong with me? Don’t overthink it, go back and get some rest,” Song Yuran said.
“Mm.” Jia Dou’s heart fluttered wildly, responding purely out of instinct.
It wasn’t until she left the room that she snapped back to her senses in a daze.
It was terrifying. Even though she had been with Song Yuran for so long, she still hadn’t adapted to Song Yuran’s smile and charm. It wasn’t that she was incompetent, who could possibly resist that kind of charm?
Jia Dou left, and the room was left with only Song Yuran.
The smile on her face faded, her brow knitted slightly, and she walked toward the bedroom with a sense of fatigue.
This sleep lasted until evening.
Song Yuran was awakened by the clattering and banging coming from the kitchen outside. Hearing the noises while half-asleep, she didn’t need to guess to know what was going on.
Aside from herself, the only other person who possessed a key to her apartment was Sheng An.
She first went to the bathroom to wash up, taking a quick shower, and then walked out wearing a simple black silk slip dress.
Entering the kitchen, Song Yuran relaxed against the doorway. Sheng An was still carrying out her usual hasty and whirlwind style of operation, frying a simple potato dish as if she were preparing a full imperial banquet.
“Tsk, if someone didn’t know better based on all that commotion, they would think a robbery was taking place,” Song Yuran teased with a lazy posture.
Sheng An, currently stir-frying the potatoes, couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “What robber would be nice enough to cook for you? You really are an ancestor to me. I’ve never even cooked for my own parents.”
Song Yuran chuckled lightly, her shoulders trembling slightly. “Oh? Then shouldn’t I kowtow nine times to thank you?”
“Kowtowing isn’t necessary, just make sure you earn plenty of money for me. Whether I can afford a big villa, a Mercedes, and achieve financial freedom in this lifetime all depends on you,” Sheng An retorted, glancing back at Song Yuran to find her walking out right after a shower without even drying her hair.
Sheng An couldn’t help frowning. “Go dry your hair first. I just booked a gig for you, and filming starts next week. If you get sick at a crucial time like this, see if I don’t nag you to death.”
Song Yuran had experienced firsthand just how powerful Sheng An’s nagging skills were.
For the sake of her own peace and quiet in the near future, she surrendered obediently and went to dry her hair.
When Sheng An finished cooking and walked out of the kitchen, she saw Song Yuran sitting by the window.
She was curled up in a rattan chair by the floor-to-ceiling window, a section of slender, fair ankle exposed, noticeably thinner than before she entered her last film production.
In her hand, she held a burning cigarette.
At this sight, Sheng An’s frown deepened even further.
“Didn’t you quit?” Sheng An walked over and said.
Song Yuran glanced at her, curving her lips into a smile. “It was too boring, so I picked it back up.”
Sheng An: “…”
“I think you should seize the opportunity to find someone and date,” Sheng An said.
The cigarette in her hand had burned down to the filter. Song Yuran stubbed it out, tossed it into the trash can, and said lazily, “Other managers are always wary of their artists dating. You’re something else.”
“Can you be compared to those people? A person like you just lacks someone to keep you in check.”
Song Yuran chuckled. “Who do you think in this world could keep me in check?”
Sheng An: “…”
A single sentence left her entirely deflated.
Come to think of it, ever since she became a recognized top-tier manager in the industry, wherever she went, her word was law and she held absolute authority. Yet she had never managed to get the upper hand with Song Yuran.
She could only comfort herself by thinking that it was because Song Yuran was practically her boss and the one paying her bills, so being a notch lower was only natural.
“Come eat,” Sheng An said.
At the dining table, Song Yuran looked at Sheng An and asked, “What did you actually want to talk to me about coming here?”
Sheng An wouldn’t be kind-hearted enough to run over here just to cook her a meal.
“I accepted a variety show for you, just letting you know,” Sheng An said while pulling a file out of her bag and handing it to Song Yuran.
“A variety show?” Song Yuran raised an eyebrow slightly, looking somewhat surprised.
“Mhm, it’s a food, drink, and sightseeing type of show. The filming pace for your last project was too fast, you need a gap to rest. I also know you can’t stand being idle at home alone. Going on a variety show will give you people to play with, help pass the time, and expose you to different things. Don’t refuse either, this show has a slow pace,” Sheng An said.
“Alright,” Song Yuran replied.
Sheng An paused mid-sentence, her eyes widening slightly.
She had already prepared herself for a long session of persuasion, but after saying so little, Song Yuran agreed just like that?
Song Yuran smiled without explaining. “Are these the details on the other guests?”
“Yes. Take a look when you have free time,” Sheng An said.
“Anything else in the program I need to pay attention to?”
“Not really, just be as comfortable as you like on the show. On one hand, accepting this show is returning a favor to Producer Liu. On the other hand, it’s to give you a well-deserved break. You don’t need to worry about manufacturing any variety show effects, you can just be a transparent background character if you want,” Sheng An continued. “We’ve already reached a consensus with the production team on this. Before recording starts, they won’t use your name for marketing to ensure no unexpected situations happen during production. There are other artists on the show to liven up the atmosphere, and if you encounter any issues at all during the recording process, you can reach out to the production team anytime. They will do their utmost to accommodate your requests.”
“The terms are this good?”
“It’s a last-minute rescue gig. The person originally scheduled couldn’t make it due to a filming injury, so us stepping in to fill the spot is a win,” Sheng An smiled.
After saying that, she checked the time. “I have some things to take care of. Look through the guest profile materials whenever you have time over the next couple of days, and contact me if you have any other questions.”
“Alright.”
After Sheng An left, Song Yuran casually flipped open the dossier labeled with the show’s guest list.
The very moment she opened it, the first profile made her pause.
This one counted as an acquaintance.
Mao Junrong from Hong Kong, a veteran senior in the industry, currently in her sixties.
Back in the golden era of Hong Kong stars when the entertainment industry was flourishing and all kinds of classic films and television works emerged endlessly, she had been a towering figure full of high spirits and vitality.
She had starred in many classic old movies. Even after fading from the limelight, people in the industry still maintained deep respect for the older generation when mentioning her.
Speaking of her life experiences, anyone in the industry who knew the details could only sigh with emotion.
After shooting a few films and skyrocketing to fame, right at the peak of her youthful vigor, she chose to settle down and start a family.
She got married and had children.
Her focus shifted entirely from her career to her family, and naturally, she withdrew from the entertainment circle.
At the time, her choice sparked widespread debate within the industry. Some felt that choosing to marry at the height of her career was self-sabotage, while others, including herself, felt there was nothing wrong with the choice, believing she had married true love and happiness.
Thinking of this, Song Yuran lowered her gaze slightly.
A hint of sarcasm lingered in her heart. True love? Where in this world was there any such thing as true love? It was all just play-acting for mutual benefit.
It seemed hardly surprising that the man she married began domestic violence and gambling a few years later.
Not only did he exhaust all of her savings and salary, but he even secretly took her money to pay off gambling debts.
Mao Junrong, once such a blazing hot and high-spirited Hong Kong star, was tortured to the point of looking neither human nor ghost.
Years later, she finally broke out of the prison of marriage. After the divorce, she spent years at home eating vegetarian food, chanting Buddhist scriptures, and cultivating inner peace before finally recovering a bit of vitality.
And now, driven by livelihood needs, having recovered, she was finally starting to work again.
Therefore, seeing her name appear here made Song Yuran feel a touch of sentimental melancholy.
Flipping past her profile, the next roster entry appeared before Song Yuran’s eyes, causing her to frown.