Chapter 52: Jealousy

After going out, they took Sheng Shaoyan’s car. Through the bulletproof glass, Ningcheng’s evening traffic rushed past. The streetlights’ glow was drawn into trails of light. In the rearview mirror, a bodyguard car followed behind, maintaining the same distance.

Even though he had changed his jacket, in the cramped space, the extremely faint scent that belonged uniquely to Sheng Shaoyan made it impossible to ignore. From the moment they first met, Shen Xici had thought this smell was particularly pleasant. While Sheng Shaoyan wasn’t paying attention, he quietly took two breaths.

Unexpectedly, the next second, he met Sheng Shaoyan’s gaze as it shifted over.

Caught completely off guard, Shen Xici instantly held his breath, blinked with exceptional composure, and pretended he hadn’t done anything.

Sheng Shaoyan had silver earphones in his ears and was on the phone with someone. It should be work-related. First, he used English, which Shen Xici could understand about seventy to eighty percent of—mostly financial matters. Later, he switched to French, which Shen Xici couldn’t understand.

At this moment, Sheng Shaoyan briefly replied with two sentences into the earphone. Although he didn’t know what it meant, both the tone and timbre sounded very pleasant. While speaking, his gaze remained fixed on him without moving.

The gaze falling on him seemed to solidify into something tangible.

Shen Xici didn’t know why, but inexplicably felt a bit guilty and was the first to look away.

As if covering up, he opened his phone and scrolled through Weibo. He happened to see trending topics related to “Mountain Range Line’s” premiere. He casually clicked on the topic to look, then exited and scrolled down out of habit.

Lines of text entered his eyes but didn’t seem to enter his heart at all.

Shen Xici gave himself a mental pep talk—he was just breathing normally, what was there to feel guilty about? Was the air in the car not allowed to be breathed?

When Sheng Shaoyan hung up the phone, Shen Xici tried to speak naturally: “Where are we going for dinner?”

Sheng Shaoyan removed his earphones: “To Plum Garden. The medicinal cuisine there is quite good. You can try it.”

“Okay.”

The other’s voice was like a feather gently scratching his eardrum, rippling out a circle of tingling sensation. Shen Xici suppressed the urge to rub his ears and ultimately couldn’t help but look away to watch the flowing night scenery outside the window.

The phone screen in his hand was still lit. On the screen, ranked eighth on the trending topics was #NewActorXuLingjia#. Under the topic were analysis articles posted by many marketing accounts a few days ago, analyzing that the “newcomer actor whose acting surprised people” mentioned by Director Wan Shan in an interview was very likely Xu Lingjia. They also found Xu Lingjia’s art exam scores when he tested into Ningcheng Drama Academy, as well as evaluations from classmates and teachers at school to support this inference.

After several days of marketing and fermentation, fans celebrating wildly had gathered under this topic. As the premiere time approached, new content kept emerging.

“—Black fans and haters, use your brains. If that Zhong Yue incident was really done by Jiajia, would Director Wan praise Jiajia like this?? The innocent will clear themselves!”

“—Looking forward to the surprise #NewActorXuLingjia# will bring to the audience!! Wuwuwu, I bought tickets for the first showing at midnight. Jiajia, I’ve liked you for ten years and will continue to like you. I don’t believe a single word others say! Looking forward to Jiajia’s wonderful performance on screen!”

“—Thank you Director Wan for praising #NewActorXuLingjia#. Our Jiajia will definitely continue to work hard! I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, it’s finally going to be released! Sisters, let’s go!”

“—#NewActorXuLingjia# is the most excellent Jiajia! I know you’re definitely not that kind of person! The world’s best Xu Lingjia! So looking forward to it!”

“—SXC’s fans are really funny. Do you have to be so obvious about riding on Jiajia’s popularity? Non-professionally trained newcomer, you should settle down for a few more years before trying to gain presence! Look at your idol and see if he’s worthy of the three words ‘good acting’!”

The two cars stopped on the lawn at the entrance.

Plum Garden was a private garden that once belonged to a local prominent family. Later, when the family declined, the heir was unable to maintain it and sold the ancestral garden. After that, Plum Garden was converted by its purchaser into a private garden club, using the family recipe “Plum Garden Cuisine” and “Descendant of Imperial Chefs” as its signature.

Dozens of varieties of plum blossoms were planted in the garden. The old stumps had vigorous branches with an ancient, rustic brown appearance. Below the trees were paths made of evergreen stone, with pebble gravel laid on both sides. Shen Xici could almost imagine the elegant scenery in the depths of winter when the plum blossoms were in full bloom—”fallen plum blossoms beneath the steps scattered like snow; after brushing them off once, they’re full again.”

The moss-covered stone lanterns on both sides weren’t particularly bright. Sheng Shaoyan walked ahead, tall with long legs, like a perfectly proportioned silhouette. He no longer wore his unchanging dark suit; the loose black washed denim jacket actually matched quite well with the black dress pants.

However, even if a broken burlap sack were wrapped around Sheng Shaoyan, it would look good and handsome, right? Shen Xici imagined the scene and quietly laughed.

Crossing the small stone bridge, there was a waterside pavilion. Across the lotus pond, performers in elegant costumes were singing opera on the stage.

The wind carried the scent of moisture and flowers. Shen Xici sat down and listened for a while, discovering they were singing “The Peach Blossom Fan.”

The opera lyrics drifted across the water surface with the night wind. Shen Xici hummed along with a few lines: “In Jinling’s jade palace, orioles sing at dawn; on the Qinhuai waterside pavilion, flowers bloom early; who knew they’d melt away so easily…”

“You can sing this?”

“I know a few verses. The character I’m playing is pretending to be a young master raised in luxury. He’s well-versed in tea tasting, opera appreciation, and keeping pet birds, so I also learned a bit superficially.” After Shen Xici answered, he realized something was off. “You can understand it?”

It wasn’t that he looked down on Sheng Shaoyan, but he had always felt that although Sheng Shaoyan spoke Chinese without much accent and had no problems with reading and writing, this couldn’t deny that Sheng Shaoyan was essentially closer to being a Westerner, quite lacking in traditional literary cultivation.

Sheng Shaoyan’s mother, Katerina, was not a young lady from a great family. As Shen Xici understood it, Sheng Shaoyan’s grandmother was a Slavic beauty who fled to America due to war and poverty, and later gave birth to a daughter on her own.

Supreme beauty was always advantageous. Katerina’s mother was like this, and Katerina even more so. She was a famous beauty who made countless men fall for her, including the eldest son of the Sheng family, Sheng Junlan.

The two were briefly together for a few months. Katerina didn’t want to be bound by the many rules of a great family and marriage. Sheng Junlan also preferred playing the field and didn’t plan to enter the prison of marriage. The two hit it off and cleanly broke up, returning to their respective free lives.

Later, Sheng Shaoyan was born and grew up. At age seven, he was found by Old Mr. Sheng. After several discussions with Katerina, Old Mr. Sheng decided to bring Sheng Shaoyan back into the family. After that, there was very little contact between Katerina and Sheng Shaoyan. They only occasionally talked on the phone or met for a meal. Sheng Shaoyan only knew that over the years, Katerina had set foot in Africa’s most primitive corners and had raised her sails through the Pacific’s giant waves, never ceasing.

Knowing well that his eldest son had a beautiful exterior but was a complete wastrel inside, Old Mr. Sheng didn’t want to waste Sheng Shaoyan’s excellent qualities. So he kept him by his side to personally teach him, and after Sheng Junlan’s accidental death, single-handedly supported his eldest grandson as the Sheng family’s heir.

The education Sheng Shaoyan received from childhood came from top private schools and various elite family tutors, from Princeton, from Old Mr. Sheng. It might include imperial power tactics from the “Comprehensive Mirror in Aid of Governance,” but it would definitely not include the lingering, sentimental love songs in Kunqu opera.

Sheng Shaoyan placed the porcelain cup filled with tea in front of Shen Xici: “I don’t understand it, but you sang it very pleasantly.”

Clear water flowed under the stone bridge with a splashing sound. As soon as Shen Xici put down his empty teacup, Sheng Shaoyan persistently picked up the pot and filled it halfway.

That uncomfortable feeling came again.

Looking down at the ripples swaying in the teacup, he could almost imagine that Sheng Shaoyan’s eyes, usually full of indifference, must be watching him with a very focused expression.

Shen Xici felt that Sheng Shaoyan in this life was somewhat different from the last life.

When Sheng Shaoyan wanted to, he was the perfect exemplar of a great family heir. His interactions with people and handling of matters were so measured that he wouldn’t make anyone feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. Just like in the last life, when Shen Xici was with him, there was always a relaxed and comfortable feeling.

But for some reason, Sheng Shaoyan in this life was more like a hunter who, inadvertently, would let him sense an undisguised aggression and invasiveness.

The water in the cup reflected the lamplight. Shen Xici thought to himself that it might be because in this life and the last, the time and circumstances of their two encounters were different, so getting along was also different?

Or perhaps it was purely because he had been too busy and they hadn’t seen each other for months. They’d been online friends for too long, so he was somewhat unaccustomed to the state of sitting together face-to-face for a meal?

This wasn’t impossible.

Shen Xici unconsciously touched the ring on his finger. From mid-April when Sheng Shaoyan recovered his memories and left, to the meeting at the Qintai Film City hotel in mid-May, and now—it had been another four months without seeing each other.

Thinking about it this way, feeling uncomfortable was normal and not strange at all.

Settling his mind, Shen Xici took the menu handed over by a plainly dressed attendant. On it was a menu written by a calligraphy master. Seeing that Sheng Shaoyan had casually placed the menu on the table without any intention of looking through it, he asked, “Should I order? Is there anything you want to eat?”

“No, you order. I’m fine with anything.”

It was the same in the last life. Sheng Shaoyan didn’t have very obvious preferences. Every time they ate together, there was never anything he absolutely had to eat. Later, Shen Xici learned that Old Mr. Sheng’s teaching to Sheng Shaoyan from childhood was that those in power couldn’t have too obvious preferences. If people could see them at a glance, they would grasp your weakness and have a vulnerable point to attack.

But Shen Xici had been accustomed to observing the people around him since childhood. He was very perceptive about people’s subtle expressions. Sheng Shaoyan indeed never said what he liked or didn’t like to eat, but wanting to figure it out wasn’t difficult—it just required a bit more care.

Holding the menu, after Shen Xici finished reading it, he asked the attendant a few questions, ordered two small dishes, then chose steamed shad fish and three other medicinal dishes as main courses. Finally, he ordered a soup, a portion of candied osmanthus tofu, and a bowl of sweet cheese, instructing that all dishes couldn’t have any garlic flavor, and the dessert should be made at sixty percent sweetness.

Handing out the menu, as soon as he turned around, he found Sheng Shaoyan watching him again. Shen Xici found it strange: “What’s wrong?”

The light reflected by the lotus pond’s water ripples fell on the waterside pavilion’s wall, gently swaying.

“Nothing.”

Sheng Shaoyan was just thinking that very few people knew he was actually a very picky person, with requirements for ingredients, cooking methods, seasonings, and even the choice of tableware. But from childhood, his grandfather taught him that preferences and dislikes couldn’t be shown on his face, so even if he didn’t like the food, he would eat a little.

Until now, even his grandfather and the old butler at the ancestral home didn’t know what he liked or didn’t like to eat. He himself had never cared.

He had long been accustomed to placing his life within an established, flawless measure, not swayed by emotions and preferences. Food was just food—it didn’t matter whether he liked it or not.

However, the menu listed nearly two hundred dish names and could be called complex, but when Shen Xici picked up the pen, he easily drew a line under the dishes he liked.

After ordering, Shen Xici also requested that all the tableware painted with colorful designs be replaced with plain white porcelain. The reason was, “Matching it with plain white plates will look cleaner and won’t steal the show. You should like it better.”

He did like it better.

Sheng Shaoyan even felt, in a trance, that time was rapidly rewinding backward, back to over twenty years ago when the small him stood on the bustling street corner, submerged by the crowd, with no one able to see him.

But a person named Shen Xici walked up to him, easily found the hidden little pocket on his overalls, stuffed a candy inside, smiled at him, and coaxed him.

He thought, how could there be such a person in this world?

Like lush branches and leaves in spring, with leaf veins extending and expanding, so many emotions in his heart were stirred and aroused, making him want to say something.

“You—”

At the same time, the phone placed to the side rang. The sound of the ringtone covered the brief syllable Sheng Shaoyan had just uttered.

Shen Xici glanced at it and saw the caller ID showed “Zhong Yue.” He said something to Sheng Shaoyan and walked to the side to answer the phone.

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, you must come. Before, I knew you were filming a new show and were really too busy to spare time, so I didn’t call you. This time you’re already in Ningcheng, so if you don’t come to dinner, that won’t do!” Zhong Yue joked, “If you don’t show up, I won’t be polite about that super big red envelope Director Wan prepared for you!”

Shen Xici also laughed: “That won’t do. Don’t you dare think about my red envelope!”

The original plan was to watch a movie with Sheng Shaoyan tonight, find Ge Lanjing tomorrow afternoon to discuss signing a management contract, and if he added tomorrow night’s dinner party with the “Mountain Range Line” crew, there wouldn’t be any problem with timing. Shen Xici readily agreed.

The seat across from him was pulled out. Shen Xici sat back down. Sheng Shaoyan thought of the “Teacher Zhong” he had just heard, as well as the sense of familiarity in the few words and phrases he vaguely heard, and asked: “Zhong Yue contacted you?”

“Mm.” Shen Xici casually placed his phone on the edge of the table and took two soup bowls, ladling one for himself and one for Sheng Shaoyan. “After getting familiar with each other, Teacher Zhong isn’t as aloof as he was in the ‘Mountain Range Line’ crew before. He said he’d been burned before and had some social anxiety. Putting on an aloof demeanor could deter most people who wanted to chat with him—convenient and useful.”

Sheng Shaoyan had zero interest in whether Zhong Yue was aloof or not. Moreover, when Shen Xici was filming “Capital City Massacre,” he came to knock on doors to deliver things at 5 a.m.—he didn’t see where the aloofness was.

Just as he was thinking this, with a “snap,” a set of keys slipped out of Shen Xici’s pocket and fell to the ground. Sheng Shaoyan bent down, about to help, when Shen Xici picked up the keys first.

He happened to glimpse a decoration on the keychain with the character “Yue” on it. Sheng Shaoyan’s heart suddenly grew several degrees more vigilant. He probed: “Is the keychain newly bought? I haven’t seen you use it before.”

“Keychain?” Shen Xici took two seconds to realize what Sheng Shaoyan was referring to. “Oh, I didn’t buy it. Teacher Zhong gave it to me.”

Zhong Yue gave it?

Sheng Shaoyan’s eyes darkened, and he asked again: “When did he give it to you?”

Shen Xici didn’t notice the expression on the person across from him. He tasted the medicinal cuisine—it was on the bland side, and the flavor was indeed quite good. Hearing Sheng Shaoyan ask, he answered while multitasking: “It was during the filming of ‘Capital City Massacre.’ He said it was for protection and safety.”

When filming “Capital City Massacre,” there were a few days when everything went wrong for the crew. Either equipment broke down, or the stage crew twisted their ankles and photographers fell. Following the usual superstitious tradition, Zhong Yue and the producer went to find a master they knew, held a ritual ceremony, and requested a bunch of copper safety talismans. All the main crew members got one each.

After Shen Xici received his, Lan Xiaoshan exercised his creative imagination and made a keychain for him.

During that period, he never went home, so he naturally didn’t use his keys. Only when reminded by Sheng Shaoyan did he remember that the copper safety talisman engraved with “Eastern Peak Great Emperor” was still hanging on the keychain.

“Capital City Massacre” wrapped at the end of May.

It had been four months since then.

So it turned out that Shen Xici didn’t just wear the bracelet and ring he gave him.

The newly grown leaf veins seemed to be gnawed by ants, with dense pain spreading inch by inch along the heart’s network.

Toward that person who enjoyed the same treatment at Shen Xici’s side, Sheng Shaoyan felt a surge of irritability and hostility rising from the bottom of his heart.

The hand gripping the spoon gradually increased in force, his knuckles aching dully.

He admitted it—he was jealous.

Jealous to the point of nearly going mad.