Chapter 11

Jing Li got it now.

No wonder he’d breezed right in without any hassle—the assistant had led him straight to Ji Yunzhang’s office, and those girls’ reactions made it obvious they were shipping the two of them hard.

It wasn’t until Jing Li and Ji Yunzhang stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut that the curious, astonished stares finally vanished.

Ji Yunzhang asked in a gentle tone, “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Jing Li shook his head. “No, they don’t mean any harm. They’re just curious.”

After all, Ji Yunzhang had been in the spotlight for years without so much as a whiff of scandal. Admirers hounded him from inside the industry and out, but he’d never shown the slightest interest in anyone. Now he suddenly had a spouse—who wouldn’t be dying to sneak a peek and see what that person was like?

The moment they stepped out of the elevator, the air turned chilly. Jing Li tugged his coat closer and wrapped his scarf tight, nearly burying half his face in it.

He tilted his head. “Lunch together?”

“Not today. My parents are back home, so I need to head there.”

The last time he’d visited the Ji Family, Ji’s father and mother had both been out of town, so Jing Li hadn’t met them.

Jing Li murmured an acknowledgment, already mulling over what to have for lunch.

When they reached the parking spot, Ji Yunzhang noticed Jing Li zoning out and opened the car door for him. Jing Li snapped back to attention, looked up at him, and nearly blurted out a thank-you. But catching his eye, he remembered Ji Yunzhang didn’t like all the constant gratitude. Instead, he just flashed a bright smile.

Ji Yunzhang asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

Jing Li shook his head back and forth like some old-time scholar poring over his books, dead serious as he intoned, “I examine myself three times each day: what to eat for lunch.”

Ji Yunzhang chuckled. “Come up with anything?”

“Noodles, probably. I’ve got veggies, eggs, and tomatoes at home. Tomato-egg noodles it is.”

With that, Jing Li moved to climb in, but a faint, pained whimper stopped him cold. He froze mid-step and turned to Ji Yunzhang. “Did you hear that?”

“I did.”

Jing Li listened intently and pinpointed the sound coming from nearby, close to a dim corner where a car sat parked. He approached and discovered the source huddled under the vehicle—a stray dog, filthy and drenched, curled into a miserable ball.

“It’s a stray dog.” Jing Li straightened up and turned to Ji Yunzhang. “Teacher Ji, could you run back to the studio and grab some food? I want to coax it out. It looks sick—needs a vet.”

Ji Yunzhang nodded. “Sure.”

He gave Jing Li a pointed look. “Don’t touch it till I’m back.”

Jing Li knew better than to mess with strays. “Got it.”

Ji Yunzhang was quick about it, returning in no time with a small bag of snacks, which he handed over. Jing Li dug through it, fished out two sticks of chicken jerky, set the rest aside, then squatted down. He tore open the packaging and broke the meat into tiny pieces, scattering them toward the dog.

The stray was on high alert at first, not budging and even letting out a low growl of warning. But after a long moment, it sniffed at the jerky and scarfed it down.

One taste broke the ice. Starving, no doubt, it soon wriggled out from under the car.

In the open, details sharpened: just a few months old, the puppy must have dashed inside to escape the downpour outside.

Still wary, it kept its distance from Jing Li.

But Jing Li had patience for days. He stayed crouched, smiling softly, his voice light and soothing, like a lullaby for a fussy kid.

Ji Yunzhang stood guard at his side, Jing Li’s gentle murmurs filling his ears. He kept his eyes downcast, gaze locked on Jing Li’s profile, drinking it in with quiet intensity, his own expression softened by that tender smile.

A few minutes passed, and the puppy’s tail gave a tentative wag. Finally, it edged closer, letting Jing Li make contact.

Jing Li fed it the last of the jerky, then scooped it up for a check. Skin problems aside, it had several gashes—some badly infected.

Cradling the dog, Jing Li hesitated, realizing too late he hadn’t cleared it with Ji Yunzhang first. The thing was filthy; it’d trash the car.

He stood there awkwardly, mouth opening to speak, when Ji Yunzhang cut in. “Get in.”

Jing Li blinked up at him and broke into a huge grin. “Okay.”

No pet clinics nearby. Ji Yunzhang followed the GPS on a winding route before spotting one near a bustling commercial strip.

Rain hammered down, but the sidewalks teemed with pedestrians—mostly young folks. Jing Li didn’t dare let Ji Yunzhang step out; fans might spot him, and with roads slick as ice, trouble was one slip away.

“You go on ahead, Teacher Ji,” he said. “I’ll sort this out and get myself home.”

He grabbed the umbrella and moved to exit, but with the puppy in his arms, holding it was tricky. Screw it—he’d make a run for it, umbrella be damned.

Ji Yunzhang saw through his thoughts. He turned around, reached out to grab him, and said, “Wait, I’ll go in with you.”

That sentence carried a tone that brooked no argument.

It was the first time Jing Li had heard him speak like that. He froze for a moment. When he came back to his senses and wanted to say something, Ji Yunzhang had already slipped on his mask, grabbed an umbrella, and stepped out of the car ahead of him.

Jing Li had no choice but to keep quiet.

The rain poured down in sheets. Ji Yunzhang’s leather shoes splashed against the pavement, soaking his pant legs with the spray. He circled around the front of the car to Jing Li’s door, opened it, and held the umbrella over his head. “Come on down.”

His tone had returned to its usual gentleness.

Jing Li nodded obediently, got out, and stood under Ji Yunzhang’s umbrella.

Sharing a single umbrella felt a little cramped, but thankfully Ji Yunzhang’s car was parked right outside the pet shop. It was only a half-minute walk, so they wouldn’t get drenched.

At the door, Jing Li peered through the glass into the pet hospital. Probably due to the downpour, there were no customers inside aside from the nurses. He breathed a sigh of relief.

They registered at the front desk and paid. The nurse carried the stray dog away. Jing Li washed his hands and returned to Ji Yunzhang’s side.

“Teacher Ji, I still have to wait for the vet to finish treating the dog. It’ll take a while. You should head back first—don’t keep your uncle and aunt waiting.”

Ji Yunzhang had just hung up a phone call. “It’s fine. I told them something came up, so I won’t be back for lunch. I’ll head home tonight.”

His gaze settled on Jing Li once more.

After holding the stray dog the whole way, Jing Li looked utterly disheveled. His blue jacket was filthy with black paw prints and yellow mud, and it was soaked more than halfway down. His pants were damp around the thighs, too, where the dog had nestled against him.

Ji Yunzhang frowned ever so slightly. Then he said, “Wait here for me a moment.”

Before Jing Li could stop him, Ji Yunzhang had already gone outside. Not knowing where he’d headed, Jing Li stood there for a few seconds before walking over to the nearby waiting area.

Ten minutes later, Ji Yunzhang returned carrying a bag. His pant legs were soaked halfway up, and his jacket was damp with mist—a rare messy sight for him.

He handed the bag to Jing Li. “Go change out of your wet clothes.”

Jing Li took the bag. As their eyes met, he caught the concern in Ji Yunzhang’s gaze, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Teacher Ji.” The words slipped out on instinct.

“Hm?”

“It’s nothing.” Jing Li wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. He smiled. “Come to my place later. You need to change, too.”

He tilted his head, his eyes curving into crescents. “And let me treat you to some noodles while we’re at it.”

Ji Yunzhang gazed at his smiling face. “But I don’t eat tomatoes.”

“Teacher Ji, you’re such a picky eater.” Jing Li teased.

Ji Yunzhang’s lips quirked up. “Takes one to know one. You don’t eat broccoli either.”

“Alright, go change.” He straightened. “Otherwise, if you catch a cold, you can’t call in sick on your first day of class tomorrow. Ms. Zhao would be furious.”

Zhao? Jing Li’s eyes widened. “Teacher Zhao Yunjing?”

Ji Yunzhang nodded. “That’s her.”

Zhao Yunjing’s life was the stuff of legend. At eighteen, she joined the Art Troupe. By thirty-five, she’d swept every major domestic award, becoming a household name across the nation. Yet at the peak of her fame, she chose to leave it all behind and study abroad in France on her own.

A year later, she took the stage at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre as the female lead.

One flawless performance conquered the world and etched her name into global fame.

Five years after that, she returned home but rarely appeared on screen again. Instead, she became a teacher at the Film Academy. Most of her students went on to great success, thriving in the industry.

Ji Yunzhang counted himself as half her student.

Half, because a decade ago, when he was just starting out, he’d collaborated with her on Out of Sight and asked her advice on portraying a blind character convincingly.

She’d mentored him for half a month.

Afterward, they’d become friends.

Jing Li pressed a hand to his chest and took several deep breaths. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Ji Yunzhang. “Teacher Ji, you’re not pulling my leg, right?”

Ji Yunzhang met his gaze earnestly. “No joke.”

Jing Li clutched the bag and floated toward the bathroom on light feet, his head spinning. When he emerged in fresh clothes, his excitement had finally settled.

He looked up, his features alight with a smile. His clear eyes seemed filled with stars, sparkling brilliantly and beautiful. “So, Teacher Ji, coming to my place for lunch?”

Ji Yunzhang gazed at him and let out a low chuckle. “Yes.”