Chapter Twenty-Seven: Rumors Grow Increasingly Absurd

There was still no movement inside. Wen Jingxing finally grew restless and reached out to test the gate; to his surprise, it wasn’t locked. He gently pushed it open and peered in, catching sight of a hazy figure through the steam.

He called out, “Wan Ning?”

The figure didn’t stir. He stepped closer, and only then did he see Song Wan Ning, her bare shoulders exposed, head tilted and resting against the edge of the pool. He could only see part of her face—her straight, delicate nose, relaxed brow, and those mesmerizing eyes closed in sleep. Her long, curled lashes cast twin fan-shaped shadows beneath her eyes.

Relieved to see she was only sleeping, Wen Jingxing let out a long breath. He didn’t approach any further, instead retreating to the entrance, placing her shoes inside, and then leaving quietly.

...

It was some time before Song Wan Ning suddenly woke with a start. She sat up in the pool and glanced back—her bathrobe and phone were still there, but now there was a pair of shoes by the door.

“Hm? Wen Jingxing has already been here?”

She snatched up her phone to check the time—it was already 9:12.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. “Young Master Wen, are you ready? The director says it’s time to gather and take everyone back to the villa.”

Song Wan Ning quickly rose from the pool, dried herself, and slipped into her bathrobe. The person outside, hearing movement but receiving no response, called again, “Young Master Wen? Are you inside?”

With swift movements, Song Wan Ning hid her phone, hurried to the door, put on her shoes, and responded, “Coming!” She then reached out and slid open the gate.

The staff member outside was startled to see Song Wan Ning emerge. “Miss Song, why is it you?”

Song Wan Ning smiled and replied casually, “Oh, I liked Young Master Wen’s hot spring, so we swapped.”

Though confused, the staff led her down the slope to gather at the viewing car.

Once on board, the others arrived one after another. Li Weiwei instructed the driver to depart, when Shen Yue suddenly spoke up, “Director, isn’t An An missing? Why are we leaving now—aren’t you going to wait for her?”

Li Weiwei recalled the sorry state Jian Anan had been in when they last met—her face was swollen on one side, her eye a mere slit, as if she’d been struck. But women rarely had such strength, and among the men, only Jiang Mingzhao, Yun Ze, and Wen Jingxing had participated.

Jian Anan hadn’t provoked any of the three, so it seemed unlikely she’d been hit. Since she insisted she’d simply fallen, Li Weiwei didn’t bother to pursue the matter further.

“An An fell again and scraped her face. We sent her off for treatment,” Li Weiwei replied without elaborating.

But Shen Yue’s reaction was sharp. “What!? An An fell again? What is wrong with your production team—why do guests keep falling?”

Jiang Mingzhao was taken aback by Shen Yue’s grating tone. He frowned. “Jian Anan must have been careless herself. If it were the production’s fault, all of us would be in danger. Since it’s just her, it’s obviously her own clumsiness—who else is there to blame?”

Shen Yue merely scoffed and rolled her eyes at Jiang Mingzhao, then shifted her gaze to Wen Jingxing. Unfortunately, he was looking out the window, paying no mind to what was happening inside the car.

She thought to herself that Young Master Wen was far better—not one to argue or get riled up, unlike Jiang Mingzhao, who had to contradict her at every turn. She overlooked, however, that Wen Jingxing was simply taciturn and indifferent to others altogether.

Li Weiwei’s expression was also displeased. “If you don’t believe it, you could get out and ask her yourself—Jian Anan said she slipped, after all.”

Stumped, Shen Yue fell silent. The distance was long; if she had to walk, it would take forever. She finally gave up arguing.

When the vehicle arrived at the villa, everyone dispersed. Song Wan Ning followed behind Wen Jingxing, wanting to say something but unable to voice it.

Wen Jingxing noticed her hesitation, and, glancing at the cameraman who had trailed them since boarding, he called, “Wan Ning.”

“Hm?” Song Wan Ning looked up at him.

He stopped abruptly, reaching out to hover his hand above her shoulder before quickening his pace. Song Wan Ning paused but did not resist, matching his stride.

The cameraman diligently kept up, inwardly delighted—was his favorite partnership finally moving toward sweetness? So engrossed in his job, he failed to notice anything amiss until they reached the villa entrance and Wen Jingxing fixed him with an unwavering gaze. Only then did he come to his senses, hastily hefting his camera and making a run for it.

Then, he immediately reported to the crew’s group chat.

I Hate Bad Endings: [Major news! Major news! Major news! Important things must be said three times!]
Must Work Every Day: [Out with it already.]
Diligent Yet Slacking: [Stop beating around the bush.]
I Hate Bad Endings: [Tonight, I saw Wen Jingxing and Song Wan Ning have their first intimate contact!]
Must Work Every Day: [No way? Is this duo really getting closer?]
I Want the World’s Lightest Camera: [How intimate? (emoji)]
I Hate Bad Endings: [Tonight, on the way back, their shoulders were touching and they were holding hands!]

The group erupted in excitement.

Somehow, the news eventually reached Li Weiwei’s ears, though by then it had changed forms several times, ending as: Wen Jingxing and Song Wan Ning walked back to the villa hand in hand, fingers entwined!

Li Weiwei’s lips twitched in disbelief as she read the chat.

Meanwhile, after entering the villa, Song Wan Ning casually turned off the camera. Li Weiwei had already spoken to both of them about filming some evening footage, but both chose silence, and Wen Jingxing tacitly accepted it.

Turning to Song Wan Ning, who had hesitated all the way back, Wen Jingxing said, “Ask. You’ve been holding it in the whole way—doesn’t it bother you?”

A simple statement, yet Song Wan Ning sensed a trace of affection.

She paused, then finally asked, “Were those shoes at the door put there by you?”

He admitted readily, “Yes. When I came back and you didn’t respond, I put your shoes inside for you.”

“Then... did you come in?” Song Wan Ning searched his eyes, trying to read something there.

Wen Jingxing arched a brow, recalling that he’d only taken a few steps to glance at her face and nothing more. Perhaps it was best to say he hadn’t entered, to prevent her from overthinking it.

He shook his head. “No.”

Song Wan Ning seemed a bit doubtful but didn’t press further. “Oh, all right then.”

She had other matters to attend to and didn’t have time to dwell on the truth; she’d only wanted to confirm it with Wen Jingxing.