The rain had lasted a long time—a full five days—before the clouds finally parted and the sun broke through, spilling its light across the world.
Jing Li hadn’t seen Ji Yunzhang for the past few days. They only exchanged a few messages on WeChat in the evenings.
Stepping out of Zhao Yunjing’s villa, he spotted the sun peeking out. Sunlight dappled the branches, where rain-washed leaves glistened beautifully. On a sudden whim, Jing Li snapped a photo and sent it to Ji Yunzhang.
He hadn’t expected an instant reply. Ji Yunzhang had flown to France the night before and should have been battling jet lag, so Jing Li was surprised to see the response.
[Ji Yunzhang]: Great photo. Has the rain stopped?
Jing Li had been about to leave but paused on the spot, typing back as he stared at his phone: [Yeah, the rain stopped, and the sun’s out. Teacher Ji, you haven’t gone to bed yet?]
[Ji Yunzhang]: About to.
[Ji Yunzhang]: Back on Monday. I’ll take you driving then.
It took Jing Li a moment to process that. A few seconds later, he recalled Ji Yunzhang’s earlier promise to help him practice driving once the weather cleared. His face instantly flushed with embarrassment.
What a huge misunderstanding.
It was as if he’d sent the photo just to nudge Ji Yunzhang about it.
Feeling glum, Jing Li paced in a couple of circles right there, carefully crafting his reply before sending it: [That’s not what I meant. I just thought it looked nice and shared it with you.]
[Ji Yunzhang]: I know. No misunderstanding.
Then came a voice message: “The photo’s beautiful. I really like it.”
The low voice, laced with amusement, rang right in Jing Li’s ear, striking straight at his secret weakness for good voices. His heart pounded a few beats faster. Realizing he was getting carried away, he quickly touched his cheek—his cool fingertips snapping him back to composure.
Jing Li: [Teacher Ji, you should sleep. I won’t bother you anymore.]
Even as he hit send, another message popped up from Ji Yunzhang: [How’s class going? Is Ms. Zhao super strict?]
Jing Li hesitated for a few seconds before replying: [No, Teacher Zhao’s great. She even complimented me today.]
[Ji Yunzhang]: That’s excellent. She’s very demanding, so her praise means you’re doing outstanding work.
[Ji Yunzhang]: See you Monday.
Jing Li didn’t reply. He slipped his phone into his pocket.
Leaving Zhao Yunjing’s neighborhood, he headed straight to the pet hospital. The doctor had called last night to say the dog was ready to go home today.
Despite the days apart, the stray dog remembered him instantly. The moment he drew near, it wagged its tail furiously and let out soft, whiny woofs, as if coquettishly begging for attention.
Jing Li stroked its head, his eyes brimming with delight.
The nurse on duty today was a younger girl who had been off last time—this was her first glimpse of Jing Li. She found him strikingly handsome, especially watching him patiently and tenderly play with the dog. She stared for quite a while.
Suddenly, something clicked. She whipped out her phone, searched, and let out a surprised “Ah!”
Jing Li turned at the sound, assuming something was wrong. “Everything okay?”
“Are you Jing Li?” Her eyes lit up.
Jing Li blinked and nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”
“It really is you!” She hurried over. “I watched Isolated Island—you were amazing in it. Are you still acting?”
Jing Li smiled. “Yeah, I am.”
She beamed. “Awesome! Can’t wait for your next project.”
After handling the paperwork and scooping up the dog, Jing Li paused at the door and glanced back. The girl waved enthusiastically. “Keep going!”
She wasn’t an actual fan, but she was the closest thing to one Jing Li had ever encountered—not just recognizing him and having seen his work, but genuinely excited for what came next.
He pressed a hand to his chest.
Warmth bloomed there, like soaking in a hot spring.
The joy was too much not to share. In the car, he instinctively opened his chat with Ji Yunzhang but caught himself when he saw their recent messages.
No—Ji Yunzhang needed his rest.
Patting the docile stray dog curled in his lap, Jing Li closed the chat and switched to Moments instead, posting his happiness for all his friends to see.
Le Xiaoxiao was the first to like it, and he called almost immediately.
“Where are you?”
“In the car, heading home.”
Le Xiaoxiao let out a couple of excited “ohs,” his voice buzzing. “I officially quit today. Tomorrow, I start at Teacher Ji’s studio.”
“You could’ve taken a few more days to chill. Give yourself a real break.”
“I’ve rested plenty. I’m dying to jump in and make things happen.”
Jing Li chuckled. “Sounds good.”
“By the way, let me tell you something,” Le Xiaoxiao said. “You know the movie The Banquet that the famous director is gearing up to shoot? Yun Qingzhuo had originally snagged a really important supporting role, but the producer suddenly insisted on replacing him—and they were dead set on it, no matter what. Yun Qingzhuo lost his temper in the office and smashed everything to the floor.”
Jing Li was familiar with The Banquet. It was a major production backed by Xinshu Entertainment, starring Xu He and directed by Xie Jun, packed with A-list stars in the supporting cast. Filming hadn’t even started, but the release date was already locked in for next year’s Lunar New Year slot—and it was gunning straight for the Huaxing Awards.
Given Yun Qingzhuo’s current acting chops and clout, breaking into a star-studded blockbuster like that would have been a stretch at best; the most he could’ve hoped for was a bit part to get his face out there. But Jian Mi had pulled strings personally for him, landing him that key supporting role.
And yet, it had slipped away right at the finish line.
Jing Li was genuinely surprised. With Jian Mi’s backing, it shouldn’t have fallen through.
“Who got the role instead?” he asked.
“Jiang Lishu.” Le Xiaoxiao couldn’t resist the gossip. “And here’s the weird part—Jiang Lishu had pissed off the wrong people before and got blacklisted for over half a year. When he finally resurfaced, he was practically a nobody. The producer shouldn’t have risked pissing off Jian Mi just to cast him.”
He paused. “That said, Jiang Lishu’s acting is a fair bit better than Yun Qingzhuo’s.”
Even if Jiang Lishu outshone Yun Qingzhuo, it wasn’t by enough to make him indispensable. There had to be more to the producer’s insistence.
A possibility occurred to Jing Li.
He lowered his gaze, dismissing the thought as a bit too outlandish.
“Jing Li.”
“Jing Li!”
Le Xiaoxiao called his name a few times. “You still listening?”
Jing Li murmured an affirmative. “Yeah.”
He explained his silence. “Just thinking.”
Le Xiaoxiao made a vague noise of acknowledgment. “So, what do you reckon happened?”
“No clue.” Maybe sensing it had been ignored, the Stray Dog licked Jing Li’s hand and let out a woof. Jing Li chuckled. “Gotta go—my son’s getting upset.”
Le Xiaoxiao: “???”
What? Son? Since when did he have a son?
Le Xiaoxiao blurted out, “Hold up—where’d this son come from?”
Jing Li replied, “My dog son.”
He sounded immensely proud. “Guess that makes me a dog dad now.”
Le Xiaoxiao: “…”
~~~
That evening, Jing Li got an overseas call from Ji Yunzhang.
Earphones in, he lounged on the floor, tossing a rubber stick for the dog to chase amid a flurry of playful scampers and yips that carried clearly over the line.
Ji Yunzhang asked, “You brought the dog home?”
“Yeah, picked it up at noon.” Jing Li tossed the stick again. “Named it Custard Bun.”
Amusement colored Ji Yunzhang’s voice. “Custard Bun? What’s the story there?”
“Was gonna go with Donkey Roll at first—its fur’s this golden yellow—but it felt awkward yelling that. Switched to Custard Bun instead; keeps the ‘yellow’ vibe.”
Jing Li patted Custard Bun’s head. “You like it too, huh?”
Custard Bun barked once, right on cue.
Ji Yunzhang laughed softly. “Sounds like it loves the name.”
Jing Li grinned, murmuring agreement.
His smile faded as he ventured, “Teacher Ji, you didn’t call just to chat, did you?”
Ji Yunzhang replied, “What’s the measurement on your left ring finger?”
Jing Li blinked in confusion. “Huh?”
“I’m commissioning a ring,” Ji Yunzhang explained gently.
Jing Li snapped to attention. “One sec—I’ll measure it.”
He dropped the toy for Custard Bun to entertain itself, rummaged up a tailor’s tape, took the measurement, and read off the number.
Ji Yunzhang, clearly in the shop, relayed it in English to someone who acknowledged it promptly.
“Teacher Ji,” Jing Li said abruptly, “I’ve got a question.”
“Shoot.” His tone remained warm and patient.
“Was it you who got Yun Qingzhuo kicked off The Banquet?”
It felt absurd, but he’d seen crazier things.
The very next moment, his hunch was confirmed.
He heard Ji Yunzhang say, “Yes. That was me.”
Ji Yunzhang’s voice stayed soft, but utterly sincere. “I’m fiercely protective of those I care about. From now on, I’ll be the one protecting you.”
