Rong Ting sighed dejectedly, frustrated with herself for not knowing how to say something kind earlier. In the past, she would have rushed to comfort her without hesitation—why had she been hurting her so often lately?
Now, sitting in the classroom, she rested her chin in her hand and gazed outside at the ivy, washed into a vibrant, lush green by the rain that had started again at some point.
The air inside was crisp and clear, punctuated by the sound of keyboards tapping in the study room. Rong Ting took out her notebook to organize the day’s notes but couldn’t help stealing glances at the vigorous greenery outside.
Distracted, her hand slipped, leaving a slanted mark on the loose-leaf paper.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Ran Jiu had returned very late again last night and was nowhere to be seen when she left today. What was she up to?
The workload at Little Freesia Studio had recently increased. Xiao Zhi was still trying to persuade Ran Jiu to take on commercial voice-over projects for larger companies, arguing that the resources and development prospects would be far better.
“Luo Sun is backed by Tianhai Group, the most promising entertainment company right now. He oversees their professional voice-over studio, and their financial resources and connections are impeccable. Xiao Jiu, are you really not considering it?”
Ran Jiu thought for a moment before shaking her head slowly but firmly.
Xiao Zhi was almost sweating with urgency. “You even did voice-overs for low-quality ads back in the day—lines you would never approve of now. Why not this?”
Ran Jiu didn’t want to elaborate. Luo Sun’s sleazy demeanor disgusted her, but she knew their studio couldn’t afford to offend him. Yet, the thought of dealing with him while suppressing her revulsion was something she couldn’t bring herself to do.
Besides, Xiao Zhi meant well. Over the years, she had worked tirelessly to secure resources for the studio, and Ran Jiu didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
As they remained at an impasse, Wei Feng poked his head in from outside. “What’s going on? The client is here for an inspection.”
Xiao Zhi frowned. “I didn’t schedule anyone today.”
“Tsk, weren’t you negotiating with Tianhai Entertainment?” Wei Feng stepped inside and pointed outside. “They’re already here. I made them some tea, and they’re waiting.”
Hearing this, Xiao Zhi’s expression turned uneasy. “Xiao Jiu, I didn’t arrange this.”
Ran Jiu nodded calmly. “Sister Xiao Zhi, I believe you.” She sighed. “Let’s go out and meet them first.”
Outside, Luo Sun’s voice could be heard—that arrogant, grating tone that made Ran Jiu want to punch him.
“Your pothos here really isn’t up to par. Cheap plants don’t last long. Our company’s orchids are much better—I’ll send you one sometime.”
“Oh, is this the only reception room? It’s way too small.”
“Where’s the recording studio? It feels like your voice actors’ skills aren’t being fully utilized. Is it because of the equipment?”
Yu Lai had been accompanying him, but listening to him talk made her veins bulge with irritation—she almost wanted to give him a piece of her mind. Remembering that this man might still be a future client, she managed to suppress her anger a little, forcing a smile as she continued to walk around with him. When she saw Wei Feng and the others come out, she visibly relaxed.
Luo Sun, who had been complaining nonstop, finally quieted down and turned his gaze in their direction, blatantly fixing it on Ran Jiu.
Ran Jiu’s expression remained indifferent, but inwardly, she felt a chill run down her spine.
This time, Luo Sun’s intention was simple: he wanted to secure a long-term collaboration with Ran Jiu. He stated bluntly that if she agreed, they could secure at least three major roles in script dubbing, along with occasional opportunities in films, animations, and games.
For their studio, this was undoubtedly a highly tempting offer.
As Ran Jiu remained silent, Xiao Zhi and the others, who had initially looked hopeful, gradually fell quiet.
While Wei Feng had some idea of the history between the two, the others were completely in the dark. Yu Lai even secretly sent Ran Jiu a WeChat message: 【What’s the matter? This is such a great opportunity.】
【Once the contract is signed, it’s settled. Besides, Tianhai is a big company—they don’t play dirty tricks.】
Ran Jiu glanced down at her phone and silently turned off the screen.
Luo Sun, on the other hand, appeared magnanimous. “Well, this is Xiao Jiu’s first time working with us, so it’s only natural she needs time to think it over. How about this—since there are so many people here, it’s a bit inconvenient. Why don’t the rest of you step out, and I’ll have a private chat with her?”
Hearing this, Xiao Zhi was the first to object, though she phrased it diplomatically: “Mr. Luo, I’m the one responsible for business negotiations. Xiao Jiu only handles voice acting. Why don’t I discuss it with you instead?”
Luo Sun’s tone turned cold instantly. “Miss Xiao, what kind of person do you take me for? My assistant is right here.”
Beside him, his female assistant forced an awkward smile, trying to smooth things over: “Yes, I’ll be here the whole time. Mr. Luo means well—he’s often been the one to handle discussions with artists in the past.”
Even with this reassurance, Xiao Zhi remained uneasy. Ran Jiu gently grasped her wrist and glanced toward the surveillance camera, signaling that she would be fine. “I’ll talk to him.”
Once everyone else had left the room, the assistant quietly poured tea and retreated to the side.
Luo Sun cleared his throat, his voice deep and rough. “Look, I don’t understand what you’re hesitating about. Our company is currently heavily promoting voice acting studios. Besides, you know the people under me, right? There’s Ting, of course, and then Yu Tu Gongzi, Lie Xing Chen, Zui Mian…”
He proudly listed the artists under his management and their representative works. Admittedly, these were indeed influential figures in the voice acting industry, with impressive portfolios and undeniable professional skills.
But one thing puzzled Ran Jiu: why did these beautifully named voice actors sound so unpleasant when Luo Sun mentioned them?
And why were all these talented voice actors under his management?
Seeing that Ran Jiu was listening patiently, Luo Sun grew even more pleased with himself. “Besides, we’re actively promoting newcomers right now. If you join us, you won’t lack for opportunities. We’re also in need of female voice actors—why don’t you consider it?”
He began employing his usual tactic of belittling others to elevate himself, clicking his tongue dismissively. “Your little studio won’t last long. I just checked out the recording booth—still using outdated equipment. What future is there without upgrading? It must be quite a struggle for Xiao Zhi to keep you all afloat with the resources she pulls in, right?”
Ran Jiu couldn’t bear to listen any longer and finally cut him off, stating bluntly that she had no intention of leaving her current place.
“Our studio is just getting started, and we’ve been making steady progress over the past few years. Besides, Sister Xiao Zhi has been very good to me. I plan to stay here for now and have no intention of jumping ship. Thank you for your kind offer.”
A hint of weariness flashed across her face. “Besides, you came here to discuss a collaboration, not to poach talent, right?”
Luo Sun chuckled dryly. “Alright then. I already sent the contract and script details to you this morning. Take a look and see if you’re interested. Will you take it or not?”
Ran Jiu furrowed her brows slightly. “I’ve never doubted your company’s capabilities, but…”
“But what?”
Ran Jiu replied coldly, “For matters like these, you could have your assistant contact me in the future, or perhaps assign a female agent. I don’t see any issue with that.”
Luo Sun’s face instantly darkened. “What do you mean by that?”
“I think I’ve made myself clear. I don’t like dealing with members of the opposite sex.” Ran Jiu felt there was no need to hide her feelings at this point.
She could endure the hardships of society and bear the consequences of setbacks, but she really didn’t want to deal with someone like him.
“Interacting with men makes me feel suffocated.”
Her words sounded so dismissive that Luo Sun was almost amused by his own anger. Given his temperament, it was a miracle he wasn’t cursing, but his tone remained sharp. “What are you talking about? Aren’t there any men in your studio? In your early projects, you even collaborated with male colleagues from your studio as romantic partners, and your Weibo was constantly promoting your on-screen couples. And now you’re telling me interacting with men makes you suffocated?”
Ran Jiu’s indifferent amber eyes had already drifted elsewhere, as if she had no interest in answering such trivial questions.
Luo Sun pressed on relentlessly, “Are you joking? Half the world’s population is male. Are you telling me you don’t dislike men, or are you just gay?”
This time, Ran Jiu couldn’t hold back. Her icy gaze fell on Luo Sun as if she were looking at an ungrateful corpse.
Luo Sun was startled, coughing violently as he took a sip of water.
His outburst was so loud that it caught the attention of those outside. Wei Feng, sensing something was wrong, turned the doorknob and poked his head in. “Are you two done? It’s almost time to clock out, and we’re the only ones left on this floor.”
Luo Sun stormed off resentfully without even acknowledging the people waiting outside.
Xiao Zhi hurried over and, seeing Ran Jiu’s pale expression, asked worriedly if she was okay and whether she had been mistreated.
Ran Jiu shook her head slowly. “Sister Xiao Zhi, I might not be able to take on these collaborations.”
She briefly explained the situation to Xiao Zhi, adding that if Luo Sun were to be the point of contact in the future, she had no desire to deal with him long-term.
The others had also heard rumors about Luo Sun’s unscrupulous methods. It was said that he had once pressured an artist into accepting unfair terms by blocking their projects, leading to the artist being unfairly labeled as unprofessional by the industry and nearly blacklisted for a long time.
Ran Jiu was highly sensitive to the aura of people. If a certain interpersonal dynamic made her feel threatened, she would rather retreat cautiously than be lured by potential gains, risking her own entrapment.
Xiao Zhi even felt a lingering fear. “Forget it, forget it. If you don’t want to take it, then don’t. Our studio has plenty of orders lately, and we might not even finish them all.”
Ran Jiu understood she was trying to comfort her and smiled faintly. “Sorry about that.”
Xiao Zhi patted her helplessly. “There’s nothing we can do when we encounter people with no manners. I just wanted to give you more opportunities to grow.”
On the other side.
The rain still hadn’t stopped.
Rong Ting had initially thought the rain was light and would soon pass.
Suddenly, the sound of rain outside grew urgent, and a sharp knocking sound struck the window, standing out starkly against the fine, dense patter of the rain.
Rong Ting was startled by the noise and walked over to look outside.
Pedestrians below hurried past under their umbrellas, the ground slick with water. As cars passed, they splashed through puddles.
She began to worry now. With the rain like this, it certainly wouldn’t let up anytime soon.
Did Ran Jiu bring an umbrella? If not, would that older sister from last time see her home? Would she take a taxi?
Surely, she wouldn’t walk back alone without an umbrella…
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like something Ran Jiu would do.
Just as she was about to take out her phone to ask if she needed someone to bring an umbrella, she noticed the WeChat interface showing that the other person was typing.
Rong Ting’s heart nearly skipped a beat. She took a slow breath and waited to see what the other person would send.
After a long moment, the “typing” indicator disappeared.
Rong Ting: “…” Feeling a bit annoyed, she sent the message she had originally typed.
[Did you bring an umbrella? Do you want me to bring one to you?]
At the same time, almost to the millisecond, the other person also sent a message.
Jiu: [I’m unhappy.]
The two messages were sent almost simultaneously, with Rong Ting’s above and Ran Jiu’s below, making it impossible to tell which came first.
Looking at the two overlapping messages, Rong Ting was stunned.
The other person reacted much faster, immediately sending another message: [Why do we have so little tacit understanding?]
Then another: [Bring an umbrella and come find me. I want to go out for dinner tonight.]
Rong Ting carefully parsed the literal meaning of the words.
Did it mean she should bring an umbrella to find her, and then the two of them would go out to eat together? Was that it?
The other person quickly sent another message: [Why aren’t you replying again? /angry/]
Rong Ting inexplicably imagined the expression the other person might have while sending this message—probably a bit proud and aloof, with a tone that felt almost aggressive.
She smiled, revealing the dimples at the corners of her mouth: [You mean, the two of us will go out to eat later?]
Jiu: [Otherwise?]
Jiu: [Was there any ambiguity in what I just said? /hands on hips, raising voice/]
Rong Ting sighed and typed: [Then what do you want to eat?]
Ran Jiu held her phone, typing rapidly. Her mood was indeed a bit sour at the moment—not only because of the unpleasant person she had just encountered, but also because she was now clashing with that “rabbit” at home.
She had clearly said she was unhappy, so why wasn’t the rabbit asking her why she was unhappy?
And shouldn’t she hurry over to pick her up after receiving the message? How could she still have the leisure to ask what to eat?
She tapped the phone screen aggressively, the edge of her nail clicking against the glass with a crisp sound.
[Spicy rabbit head!!]