After the staff finished reading out the rules, they had the guests go back to their own rooms to write letters to whoever they had feelings for.
Out of basic courtesy, the male guests would first help carry the female guests’ suitcases to their rooms before going back for their own.
Liang Tingyun walked forward without a word, picked up Zhong Yu’s suitcase, and turned to leave.
Pei Songming, meanwhile, had talked with Chao Shu the most since arriving at the show.
Unsurprisingly, a moment later, Pei Songming picked up Chao Shu’s suitcase and headed upstairs with her, chatting the whole way.
That left only Jiang Qingzhou and Du Xinnuo staring at each other.
Jiang Qingzhou glanced at Du Xinnuo’s suitcase, and before he could say anything, Du Xinnuo suddenly yanked her own case away. “Thanks, but you don’t need to bother with mine, it’s not that heavy, I can carry it myself.”
Jiang Qingzhou stood there watching Du Xinnuo strain even the muscles in her calves to haul the suitcase, and understood at once.
Fine. When someone made their dislike of him this obvious, it would be on him if he still shamelessly pushed a warm face against her cold one.
Jiang Qingzhou turned around and, without hesitation, pulled his own suitcase upstairs.
He quickly caught up with Du Xinnuo, who was struggling badly.
Du Xinnuo’s hands had both turned red from gripping a case far heavier than she could handle, the veins on the backs of her hands bulging, clearly a struggle.
Thinking about how he needed to build good relationships with the other guests, Jiang Qingzhou ignored Du Xinnuo’s earlier cold refusal and asked again, “Ms. Du, are you sure you don’t want my help? It looks pretty heavy.”
“No, need! Not, heavy!” Du Xinnuo said. “I, can manage, myself.”
“All right, if that’s how it is, I’ll head on ahead. If you can’t manage, just call me.” Having been turned down twice, Jiang Qingzhou didn’t push any further, and humming some nameless tune, breezed past Du Xinnuo toward the third floor.
【No way, is Jiang Qingzhou really this disrespectful to a senior? She says no and he just takes it at face value? Can’t he tell Du’s just being polite about it?】
【If he really wanted to help, would he even need to ask? Seeing a female guest struggling that hard, shouldn’t he just step in and take it? Instead he’s over here playing nice and asking.】
【Why does he like humming so much?! What is he even happy about?!!! What is there to be happy about?!!!! I really want to slap that face of his!】
【I don’t think Du declined out of politeness, I think she just hates Jiang Qingzhou. She genuinely doesn’t want him touching her suitcase.】
【Right, if it were me, I’d rather work myself to death than let that little bitch Jiang help me.】
Jiang Qingzhou hauled his suitcase up to the third floor alone and stopped in front of the door with his name on it.
Just as his hand was about to touch the door handle, he pulled it back.
He set down his suitcase and walked toward the other end of the hallway.
As the saying goes, the pavilion closest to the water gets the moonlight first [1]the pavilion closest to the water gets the moonlight first (jin shui lou tai xian de yue, 近水樓臺先得月) Idiom, Being physically close to someone/something gets you first access to its … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3373412_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3373412_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, he wanted to go check which room Liang Tingyun was in. That way, if he needed Liang Tingyun’s help with anything later, it would be more convenient.
On camera, the corners of Jiang Qingzhou’s mouth kept curling up despite himself, his clear, bright eyes carrying a trace of slyness he himself hadn’t even noticed.
As he passed the room next to his, with “Pei Songming” written on the door, a flash of disappointment crossed his eyes.
What was wrong with this production team?! Didn’t they know about him riding on Liang Tingyun’s fame before? Didn’t they know there was potential drama between him and Liang Tingyun?
If they wanted the show to get attention, shouldn’t they have put him right next to Liang Tingyun?
Jiang Qingzhou walked past the third room in indignation, the door was blank, no sign of Liang Tingyun’s name like he’d imagined.
The fourth room had none either.
Only at the very end of the hallway, the last room, did Jiang Qingzhou finally spot Liang Tingyun’s nameplate, and the heart he’d been holding up dropped back into place.
It wasn’t that the production team didn’t know about him and Liang Tingyun, they knew all too well, and had deliberately placed him as far from Liang Tingyun as possible.
Still, it wasn’t so bad, as long as they were on the same floor, that was fine.
So it was a little farther, so what, he had legs, at most it just meant a few extra steps.
To him, that was nothing at all.
As Jiang Qingzhou walked back with a light step, he happened to spot Liang Tingyun coming back down the hallway after dropping Zhong Yu off at her room.
Jiang Qingzhou’s eyes immediately lit up, like a hungry wolf in the forest spotting a rabbit about to fall into its mouth, and he excitedly ran straight up to Liang Tingyun, panting hard with excitement. “Actor Liang, I already found your room, it’s the very last one.”
Liang Tingyun’s brow furrowed slightly, his voice cool. “Why were you looking for my room?”
“I’m your fan, aren’t I? I just wanted to see where you live.”
Jiang Qingzhou’s eyes curved into a smile, but the moment he said it, he caught Liang Tingyun’s darkening gaze and belatedly realized this line was practically a celebrity taboo, hurrying to backpedal. “I’m not an obsessive stalker fan or anything, I checked Teacher Pei’s room too, he’s right next to mine.”
“I just figured if the production team announces some task later where we all need to work together, I don’t want to end up not knowing where to find anyone’s door.”
Liang Tingyun gave an expressionless hum and, without responding further, turned and walked inside.
There was no telling whether he’d believed it or not.
Jiang Qingzhou waved at Liang Tingyun’s cold, straight-backed figure and called out warmly, “See you later, Actor Liang!”
Liang Tingyun didn’t look back.
The rooms in the villa were spacious, with everything from a wardrobe and a desk to a balcony with a view.
Jiang Qingzhou went back to his room, set his suitcase down by the door, and headed straight for the desk, where, sure enough, the envelope and letter paper the production team had prepared were waiting.
Underneath the letter paper was a notebook.
A sticky note was attached to the notebook’s cover: 【Love Diary, record your feelings and experiences each day. You can take it out and share it with everyone once the show ends.】
Jiang Qingzhou flipped open the ‘Love Diary’ and had a look, finding the inside quite elaborate, the pale pink pages were printed with roses, a symbol of love.
He counted, and there were nine different designs in total. He wasn’t sure whether the production team had specially commissioned them or just bought them wholesale.
Jiang Qingzhou clicked his tongue and muttered, “This place is practically radiating pressure to fall in love,” gently pulling out his chair, laying the letter paper, also printed with hearts and roses, on top of the notebook, switching on the desk lamp, and picking up a black gel pen to sit down and write, stroke by careful stroke.
The soft lamplight fell at an angle across his smooth, pale cheek, his long lashes fluttering up and down, casting a wide shadow.
Like a boy stepped straight out of a comic book, quietly beautiful enough to hold anyone’s gaze.
Ten minutes after Jiang Qingzhou had picked up the pen, he finally set it down and blew gently on the letter he’d written.
Once the ink had dried, he carefully folded it and sealed it into the envelope.
Jiang Qingzhou stood up and walked toward the door holding his feelings, only to catch sight of the rose sitting on the nightstand.
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