“I didn’t.” Shi Sheng was stubborn.
How had he figured it out so easily?
Was Duan Yujing blessed with clairvoyance or superhuman hearing?
She pulled out a tissue, determined to wipe her tears away completely, her voice betraying not a trace of anything unusual.
Duan Yujing didn’t call out her lie. Instead, after a moment of silence, he asked:
“I’ve heard that Qi Ye took another woman out to dinner today?”
Shi Sheng pressed her lips together, thinking that at this point, there was no harm in letting Duan Yujing know.
So she nodded.
Only after nodding did she realize Duan Yujing couldn’t see her, so she added a verbal response:
“Mm.”
Whether it was her imagination or not, she thought she heard a sigh from the other end of the line.
It was as light as the wind, vanishing into the air in an instant.
Shi Sheng couldn’t gauge the purpose of his call. She picked at the phone with her fingers and asked nervously:
“Is there anything else?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
Then, Duan Yujing spoke softly:
“I just wanted to ask how you’re feeling. You know, I won’t be biased toward Qi Ye just because he’s my brother.”
His eyes lowered: “What I said to you this morning wasn’t a joke.”
Duan Yujing spoke slowly and deliberately, each word earnest:
“Objectively speaking, Qi Ye is not a good choice for a romantic partner.”
“Shi Sheng, you’re a good girl. You shouldn’t hang yourself on his crooked tree. If you really want to date someone—”
He paused for a moment, then said:
“I could introduce you to someone as well.”
Hearing Duan Yujing’s assessment of Qi Ye, Shi Sheng couldn’t help but laugh.
Who would’ve thought—Duan Yujing had a pretty clear read on Qi Ye’s character.
She coughed twice, suppressing a smile as she said:
“Does Qi Ye know that you, his own brother, think of him this way?”
Duan Yujing’s voice was calm:
“I only speak with objective facts.”
She had to admit—after hearing Qi Ye being judged like that by Duan Yujing, Shi Sheng’s mood had improved more than a little.
See? She’d said all along that Qi Ye was scum.
Even Qi Ye’s own brother thought so.
Shi Sheng quickly sketched out a little turtle with her paintbrush and casually asked:
“You said you’d introduce someone to me—really?”
Duan Yujing: “…”
He looked at the night scenery outside the window, his lashes lowering to veil the obscure look in his eyes:
“Mm.”
Shi Sheng tossed her brush aside: “That’s so nice of you… but on second thought, never mind.”
Her tone was light: “After all, I just broke up with Qi Ye. Jumping straight into another relationship isn’t really my style.”
Hearing this, Duan Yujing’s reply came unexpectedly fast:
“You two broke up?”
Shi Sheng tilted her head: “No, I was just saying that hypothetically.”
“…Oh.”
Whether it was her imagination or not, Shi Sheng felt his tone carried a hint of disappointment.
But before long, she shook the thought away.
They didn’t have much to talk about, and before long, the call ended in a hurry.
Shi Sheng sat on the bed for a while, then got up and pulled out the contract buried at the bottom of her desk drawer.
She read through the contract carefully once more, her gaze finally landing on the end date at the bottom.
Counting the time, there were only a few dozen days left.
This ill-fated entanglement between her and Qi Ye would soon come to an end.
Shi Sheng let out a long breath, set the contract down, and headed to the bathroom.
“Have you heard? The studio next door hired a celebrity spokesperson again.”
“They’re rich, right? Isn’t their department the one making the most money for our company right now?”
“Who did they hire?”
“Some female idol, I think… named Wen Ke.”
When this news spread, Tong Lian was painting Shi Sheng’s nails at her workstation.
The tips of her fingers were cool and icy.
Shi Sheng blinked and whispered, “Are you done yet?”
“Not yet.” Tong Lian held Shi Sheng’s hand, looking serious. “Trust me, dear Sheng Sheng, this nail polish pink really suits you.”
Shi Sheng was half-convinced: “Really?”
“Of course!” Tong Lian said with full confidence. “Sweet girls need this kind of soft pink. Trust my skills—I definitely won’t paint outside the lines.”
Shi Sheng lowered her gaze to the thin layer of polish on her nails.
It was a low-saturation pink, and against her fair skin, it really did look quite pretty.
Shi Sheng glanced at her unfinished draft and urged again:
“Are you done?”
At that moment, Tong Lian was painting the last nail:
“Almost, almost… Done!”
Just as she finished speaking, the team leader’s voice suddenly came from up front:
“Shi Sheng!”
Tong Lian and Shi Sheng quickly sat up straight.
Especially Tong Lian—she stared at her computer screen without blinking, pretending she hadn’t just been slacking off.
Shi Sheng stood up: “Is something the matter?”
The team leader looked her over for a moment, then said:
“The studio next door is short on people. Go help out at the filming site.”
Shi Sheng’s face immediately fell.
In other words, she was going over there to be free labor.
But since the team leader had spoken, there was no way to refuse.
Shi Sheng packed up her things at her workstation and left under Tong Lian’s sympathetic gaze.
The studio next door was responsible for a MOBA online game that Shengjing had launched a few years back. It had exploded across the internet within a month of release and, in just a few short years, had become the ceiling of domestic MOBA games.
Shi Sheng had previously worked in that department as a concept artist, but she’d later been transferred to her current studio.
So she was fairly familiar with most of the staff over there.
Shi Sheng obediently followed behind the team leader, heading toward the filming site.
When they arrived, Shi Sheng glanced toward the green screen setup and immediately spotted a familiar figure.
—Wen Ke.
Shi Sheng’s expression stiffened. Why her?
Was this what they meant by fate bringing people together across a thousand miles?
She looked at the team leader, a bit at a loss, and asked cautiously:
“So what exactly am I supposed to do here?”
The team leader said: “See that big star over there? Be her personal assistant.”
Shi Sheng: “…”
She took a deep breath: “Can I swap jobs with another colleague?”
The team leader looked at her: “No. Being her personal assistant was something that star personally requested.”
Shi Sheng: “…”
She knew it!
The team leader patted Shi Sheng on the shoulder, told her to do a good job, and then left.
Shi Sheng wanted to cry but had no tears. She obediently walked over to the edge of the green screen, holding a bottle of water, waiting to give it to Wen Ke after she finished filming.
With the clicking sounds of the camera, Wen Ke’s shoot for this session quickly came to an end.
As if she had spotted Shi Sheng long ago, the moment the director called cut, Wen Ke walked straight over to Shi Sheng.
Shi Sheng said nothing, unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, and handed it to Wen Ke.
Wen Ke didn’t take it.
She crossed her arms and critically looked Shi Sheng up and down.
Finally, her gaze landed on Shi Sheng’s nails.
Wen Ke’s delicate brows furrowed slightly.
The next moment, she knocked the bottle of mineral water out of Shi Sheng’s hand. Under Shi Sheng’s astonished gaze, she lifted her chin slightly and said with arrogance:
“How dare you offer me water of this quality? Would it kill you to buy me an iced Americano from Starbucks?”
With that, her gaze drifted downward, looking contemptuously at Shi Sheng’s fingernails:
“And also, stay away from me. The smell of that cheap nail polish is giving me a headache.”