Chapter 9: Since You’re Here, Why Not Lie Down and Try It?

“Of course it’s because Bai Yingchuan acted in your dad’s movie—such fate is worth getting together for, isn’t it?”

Lin Lu turned back to Bai Yingchuan and said, “Yingchuan, if Director Jiang knew you’d become friends with his son, he’d be really happy, wouldn’t he?”

Bai Yingchuan gave a faint smile. “Mm. Jiang Ruotang, are you free?”

Jiang Ruotang stuffed his test papers into his backpack and looked up at Bai Yingchuan. His smile was just right—cinematic even, without needing any soft lighting.

But backlit by the sun pouring in through the windows, it had a cold, distant quality.

Having worked in his father’s management team for so long, how could Jiang Ruotang not see through Bai Yingchuan’s nature?

No matter how good he was at pretending, Jiang Ruotang could always sense his true emotions.

During those ten years, countless people had said Bai Yingchuan’s success all started with the role Jiang Huaiyuan gave him. It was brought up over and over in his youth, as if he had no value apart from that.

So for Lin Lu to bring up Jiang Huaiyuan in front of him—well, that was like tap dancing on a landmine. Yet Bai Yingchuan could still smile so warmly? Such skilled acting at this age—very promising indeed.

“Bai Yingchuan only acted in my father’s film. They made each other’s success. No need to keep bringing it up. He’ll be in other works too—constantly linking him to my dad might upset other directors.” Jiang Ruotang slung his backpack over one shoulder and smiled slightly at Bai Yingchuan. “Sorry, classmate Bai—I really have something I need to handle today. Once the art studio opens, I won’t have time anymore.”

With that, Jiang Ruotang quickly walked out of the classroom.

“Hey, Ruotang! Ruotang!” Lin Lu called after him, then turned back to Bai Yingchuan apologetically. “He actually really likes you, you know. He’s one of the earliest fans in your group. I think seeing you in person made him shy.”

In other words—he was playing hard to get.

Bai Yingchuan looked at Jiang Ruotang’s retreating figure and chuckled softly. “Or maybe the fan filter shattered, and he thinks I’m not as perfect as I seem in the movies.”

“No way. You’re so outstanding. How could Ruotang not like you?” Lin Lu said with firm conviction.

But as soon as Lin Lu turned her back, the smile on Bai Yingchuan’s face faded, like sunlight sinking into the deep sea.

He’d never lacked love in his life. Whether Director Jiang’s son liked him or not didn’t really matter.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang caught up to Zhao Changfeng at the staircase.

“Hey! Where are you going? Weren’t we going to my place to grab the player cards?”

Zhao Changfeng turned back and scratched his head. “You serious?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel like… you’re luring me to your place to beat me up.”

“And then my dad would beat me up after that?”

“Come on. Even if you blew up the school, Uncle Jiang wouldn’t lay a finger on you.”

“Let’s go. Anyway, my dad’s going dancing with your mom tonight. When we get home, you’ll be alone, I’ll be alone—might as well hang out.”

Zhao Changfeng choked on his own spit when he heard “hang out” and nearly saw stars.

“Jiang Ruotang, if you’ve got beef with me, just say it outright, okay? Don’t pull this sneaky stuff! I’ve told you a million times—my mom doesn’t want a dime from your family! Can you stop watching those ridiculous soap operas already? I’m begging you!”

Jiang Ruotang laughed and crooked his finger at Zhao Changfeng, who leaned in unsuspectingly—and got smacked on the head.

“Did I say your mom wants money? I’m just saying, if our parents end up together, shouldn’t we work on our relationship a little? You know—brotherly harmony?”

“Who wants ‘brotherly harmony’ with you…” Zhao Changfeng immediately looked disgusted.

“Well, we gotta pretend, right? Might as well rehearse now—don’t want to make life harder for our parents later on!”

Zhao Changfeng had to admit—crude as that sounded, it made sense. He let Jiang Ruotang drag him into the private car, almost on instinct.

In the back seat, the two high schoolers sat side by side. Their driver, Xiao Gao, almost floored the gas pedal in surprise.

As he drove, he kept checking the rearview mirror, afraid the two would start brawling.

“Um… is your hand really okay?” Jiang Ruotang asked.

“…I’m fine. I’m not that fragile,” Zhao Changfeng replied.

“When’s your next basketball game?”

“Next Tuesday. Against No. 2 High.”

“Will any college scouts be there?”

“Small game. Probably not.”

“Will it be recorded? I have class, so I can’t come, but I’d like to watch the footage.”

“…I’ll send it to you.” Zhao Changfeng felt like his toes were curling in secondhand embarrassment.

Could Jiang Ruotang stop pretending to be this nice? He’d rather go back to trading barbs like school kids—that was way more satisfying!

Xiao Gao exhaled deeply. Was the sky about to rain red?

These two bickering idiots were actually… having a civil conversation?

Awkward as the exchange was, Xiao Gao couldn’t help but feel amused and oddly relieved.

When they passed a flagship store for high-end custom furniture, Jiang Ruotang suddenly called out, “Stop here.”

Xiao Gao pulled over. Jiang Ruotang hopped out. Zhao Changfeng stayed put.

“Come on out.”

“What for?” Zhao Changfeng asked grumpily.

“To look at beds, wardrobes, desks.”

“I’m busy.”

“C’mon. I told Juan-jie we’re going home for dinner. She got excited and said she’d make lion’s head meatballs for you. Even if we head back now, dinner won’t be ready for another half hour. You want to sit in the living room and stare at me the whole time?”

The words “come home for dinner” hit Zhao Changfeng like a gong in his head. “What the hell? I’m here for the player cards, not to eat dinner!”

But Jiang Ruotang had already figured Zhao Changfeng out. Since they used to butt heads all the time, if he wanted to make peace, he’d have to drop his pride.

“What? You’re not eating? Then I’ll tell my dad I wanted to make friends, and even got lion’s head meatballs made for you, but you didn’t want to…”

“You…” Zhao Changfeng’s mouth opened and closed. “Fine! You’re finally showing your… your…”

“My what?” Jiang Ruotang tilted his head and looked at Zhao Changfeng.

Back then, Zhao Changfeng still hadn’t been worn down by life. He was clean-cut and handsome, with big, clear eyes. Just a guy who softened at kind words but bristled like a hedgehog to protect himself and his mom.

“Your true colors… You just want to use your dad to tattle on me to my mom! You’re not a kid anymore—go back to kindergarten, why don’t you?”

“Kindergarten methods might be simple, but they’re effective. Let’s go—check out some furniture, then have dinner. You’re so big—what can I even do? Pin you down and wrestle you?”

“Wrestle me? In your dreams.”

Sure enough, that bit of teasing worked. Zhao Changfeng scowled and followed him into the furniture store.

Jiang Huaiyuan’s study—his desk and full bookshelf—had been custom-made here. The manager still remembered Jiang Ruotang. Even though the two boys were in school uniforms, he came over warmly, greeting them and offering coffee.

“No need, we’ll just look around. We’re heading home for dinner soon.”

Jiang Ruotang turned around and saw Zhao Changfeng still looking sour. He could already hear what Zhao Changfeng must be thinking: The young master’s here to burn more of Daddy’s money again.

Still, Zhao Changfeng’s curiosity got the better of him, and he started looking around.

Jiang Ruotang whispered something to the manager, who glanced at Zhao Changfeng and nodded.

The manager brought them upstairs. Jiang Ruotang wandered among the wooden bedframes while Zhao Changfeng sat on the edge of one like an overworked office worker plotting murder.

“This bed’s solid,” the manager said. “You could jump on it and it wouldn’t creak at all.”

Then he gestured for Zhao Changfeng to try it.

Jiang Ruotang jumped onto it first, lying down. Seeing Zhao Changfeng still grimacing, he tugged him again.

“Don’t pull me. I can’t afford this kind of bed,” Zhao Changfeng grumbled. One glance at the five-figure price tag was enough to give him a heart attack.

“You’re lying on it now, aren’t you?” Jiang Ruotang tugged again. “Since you’re here, why not lie down and try it?”

Zhao Changfeng exhaled heavily and flopped down, reluctantly.

Surprisingly, it really was stable—no creaks at all.

Jiang Ruotang sat up and sized up Zhao Changfeng’s height. Even if this bed was two meters long, it’d still fit him comfortably.

He studied Zhao Changfeng’s face. He probably liked this kind of solid wood bed—silent even when turning over.

When Zhao Changfeng opened his eyes and saw Jiang Ruotang staring at him, he instantly sat up.

“What else do you want to see? Hurry up!”

“Let’s check out some desks.”

Jiang Ruotang picked out a matching one and sat down. “How’s this?”

“Looks like kindergarten furniture.” Zhao Changfeng rolled his eyes and turned away.

Jiang Ruotang tried a few more. When he turned around, Zhao Changfeng was already sitting in front of a walnut wood desk.

It had a clean, practical design with smart storage and a modern look. Most importantly, the height could be adjusted.

Zhao Changfeng’s current desk was bought in junior high—too low for him now. Whether playing games or reading, he had to hunch over. Eventually, he just moved his computer onto the bed.

He never mentioned it to his mom—he didn’t want to cause trouble. To him, Zhao Yunshu already worked hard enough to support them. A desk being too short didn’t matter.

But Jiang Ruotang remembered.

He turned and saw Zhao Changfeng sitting there, tapping the desk softly. The dull thud sounded sturdy. He touched the side shelving, probably imagining his basketball fitting into one of the compartments.

From his expression, Jiang Ruotang could tell—he really liked this desk.