Chapter 82: Farewell

"Her abilities are average, but her attitude is acceptable."

Tanya Zhu smiled calmly. "She’s new, hasn’t been in the industry long, so she lacks experience. If there’s anything she didn’t do well, just let me know and I’ll teach her."

"Let’s wait until the shoot is over. I still need her for now."

Tanya lingered for a while longer. He looked at her and asked, "What is it? Do you still have something to say?"

"I’m just a bit curious. Your family background is so good, you’re not short of money. Why would someone from a family like the He family let you work in this industry?" He didn’t seem like someone passionate about acting.

He replied, "It’s just to pass the time. Work is work, no matter the industry." He didn’t want to talk about his family matters, his gaze turning colder as he changed the subject. "I have no plans tonight. I’ll go out for a while and return to the crew in the morning."

He Cheng was different from other newcomers in the company. He had powerful backers and sponsors. Tanya was shrewd enough not to use the same tactics on him as with other rookies. He wasn’t some naive teenager. With the He family behind him, he wasn’t someone to offend lightly.

So Tanya just reminded him to keep a low profile and agreed to let him be.

Before she left, Tanya pulled A Zhou aside. "You’re He Cheng’s assistant. He’s going to be popular in the future. If you follow him, good days are ahead. But you need to understand the industry rules—never leak anything to outsiders, not a single word. If you do and it affects the artist’s career, don’t expect to work in this field again. No one wants a servant who betrays their master."

He Cheng’s prospects were excellent—Tanya’s judgment was never wrong.

A Zhou nodded nervously, promising not to mention anything about He Cheng to anyone.

...

That evening Xin Gan had dinner at home. Her father was also there, so she couldn’t avoid being questioned about her work.

Her father hoped she would have her own job. Even though the family could support her and didn’t need her small salary, he wanted her to have her own career and source of income, especially since she would be living with Cheng Jiu in the future.

She had no interest in managing the family company, and her father had no intention of leaving it to her. Cheng Jiu couldn’t do it either—he was a public official and couldn’t engage in business. So her father had other plans.

After thinking for a while, Xin Gan said, "I’ll look for a job."

"You need to decide what kind of work you want to do, your direction. You can’t just go to your brother-in-law’s company like last time."

"I want to open my own studio and paint," she said.

"Painting is tough, and the initial investment is high. Are you sure about this?" Her father assumed she meant opening an art gallery or aiming for exhibitions.

"I mean a studio to teach students how to paint. I’ve saved up some money—enough to open a small studio."

"Where would you open it? What kind of students are you targeting?"

"Art students, high school sophomores and juniors." She had classmates who returned to do this and could learn from them. Her skills were solid enough to teach high school students. "I haven’t decided on the location yet—probably near a school, so it’s convenient for students."

Her mother also thought it was a good idea.

Her father was supportive and, after dinner, helped her look for possible locations near schools for the studio.

Xin Gan wasn’t familiar with the domestic market, so she quickly did her homework: how big the studio should be, what equipment she needed, the curriculum, and even statistics on the subjects covered in the art college entrance exams over the past few years. She needed to understand everything thoroughly.

Meanwhile, Cheng Jiu was about to return to Bei Yu. Xin Gan worried his injury hadn’t healed yet. After much hesitation, she called him. "Have you decided on the date you’re leaving?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," he replied.

"So soon?" she bit her lip.

There was no helping it—he had to go back sooner or later and couldn’t linger in her gentle embrace forever. He had important matters to take care of.

"Will you come see me off?" he asked.

"Yes." It was already past ten at night. She stood in the courtyard talking to him, the cool night breeze reminding her of the lakeside near his place, making her ears burn.

He didn’t say anything sweet, just, "Don’t stay up late, get some sleep. I’ll come find you tomorrow."

"Alright. Good night."

But it was past ten—how could she sleep?

And he would be returning to Bei Yu tomorrow.

Cheng Jiu’s father understood the demands of his job and was supportive, but his mother was more worried, afraid something would happen to him again. She spent the night in tears.

Cheng Hui was at school and unaware that Cheng Jiu was leaving again.

The next noon, Xin Gan went to his house.

He was surprised to see her arrive so early. His eyes lit up the moment he saw her, and he quickly brought her inside.

His mother wasn’t in the living room. Cheng Jiu held her hand calmly and led her to his room.

It was Xin Gan’s first time in his room. The decor was minimalist—white walls, gray floors, gray bed sheets, all exuding a cool austerity. A bedside table next to the bed held model airplanes and tanks—clearly a man’s room.

Cheng Jiu closed the door and said, "Sit down for a while and cool off with the air conditioning."

It was hot outside. She had driven over, and after just a few minutes in the sun, she was already sweating.

On the floor sat a suitcase with a few clothes yet to be folded.

Cheng Jiu went into the bathroom. Xin Gan thought for a moment, then knelt down and folded his clothes for him.

When he came out, she had already folded everything and was sitting in a chair—she hadn’t dared sit on his bed.

Alone together in his room, Xin Gan felt unspeakably nervous.

She asked, "Is Auntie not at home?"

She hadn’t seen his mother when she came in.

He handed her a wet towel to wipe her hands. "You’ll need to start calling her something else soon."

Xin Gan blushed, embarrassed.

Fortunately, he didn’t push the issue. "She’s in the study on the phone. Are you thirsty?"

"No."

Cheng Jiu knelt down in front of her, making him half a head shorter than her. She was seated higher than him—a rare chance to look down at him, and the feeling was quite different.

"Why didn’t you wait for me to pick you up? You came to me so quickly?"

She hesitated, but finally looked him in the eye. "I wanted to see you."

Those words were more moving than anything.

Cheng Jiu propped his hand on the edge of her thigh, pulling them close together, their posture intimate, the air tinged with ambiguity. He gazed at her and said, "Me too."

Thinking that their next meeting wouldn’t be until the end of the year, Cheng Jiu felt uneasy leaving her behind. He couldn’t bring her to Bei Yu—she wouldn’t be able to handle that environment. There was nothing but sand and dirt there; bringing her would only make her suffer.

He couldn’t bear to let her endure hardship with him.

Xin Gan finally smiled.

Without another word, he reached out, cupped the back of her neck, and drew her in.

Without hesitation, he kissed her.

...

Their time together was short. Xin Gan helped him pack and accompanied him to the airport.

His mother went too. On the way, she comforted Xin Gan. "It’s only half a year. It’ll pass quickly—you can get through it."

Xin Gan nodded. "Yes, I understand."

There was no need for more words.

She supported his work and was willing to wait for him.

Before he left, Cheng Jiu didn’t say much. He just patted her head and reminded her, "Don’t stay up late, eat more, you’re too thin. It’s uncomfortable to hold you."

He wasn’t criticizing her for being thin; he just wanted her to take care of herself.

When it was almost time for security check, Cheng Jiu strode away, heading for the city where he was needed.

His mother couldn’t hold back her tears. Almost every time she saw him off, she would get emotional.

Xin Gan comforted her. Once she had composed herself, she patted Xin Gan’s hand. "It’s alright, I’m used to it. Come on, let’s go home."

...

Cheng Jiu returned to his unit and went straight to see Commander Meng.

In the commander’s office, Meng erupted in fury, smashing a teacup to pieces. "Didn’t I tell you to recover before coming back? Are you trying to drive me to an early grave?"

"I’m healed. Once I’m healed, I come back."

"Healed? You almost lost your life! Go back to the hospital and lie down!"

Commander Meng was his superior by far. Cheng Jiu was supposed to listen, but this time he wouldn’t budge, standing straight and stubborn.

Meng was so angry he almost smashed another cup, but the desk was already empty but for the broken glass on the floor. He paced back and forth, fuming. "You brat! You went behind my back and just came straight back. I told you to recover first, but you just ran back!"

Cheng Jiu was thick-skinned and pretended not to hear. "The team needs me. If I’m needed, I have to return at once."

Commander Meng ignored him, sulking in his chair and smoking for a long while. Finally, he raised an eyebrow. "Really healed?"

"Yes."

"Everything at home settled?"

"Yes."

Commander Meng changed his tone and smiled. "Alright, you’re tough as nails. If you’re fine, get to work. And another thing—"

Cheng Jiu stood at attention, eyes forward.

Commander Meng walked up and clapped him hard on the shoulder. "The Fishhead case has been dragging on for ages. Because of him, none of us are eating or sleeping well. If we don’t catch his men soon and let them keep harming innocent people, it’s on our heads. Since you’re back, don’t blame me for being strict."

Before Cheng Jiu could reply, the commander clapped him on the chest, right where he was still injured. He gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound.

Commander Meng was satisfied. "That’s the Cheng Jiu I know. Get to work."

...

Cheng Jiu’s return made the canteen lively again. When he showed up for a meal, everyone crowded around, calling him "Brother Jiu" and expressing their concern.

They were all relieved and excited to see him safe.

Jiang Tang also came. She’d heard about his return and found her way to the canteen, watching from the corner as others surrounded him. She was glad—relieved.

She didn’t disturb him, just watched quietly.

That evening, as Cheng Jiu headed back to the dorm, Jiang Tang followed, looking for a chance to speak with him.

She called out, and he stopped, turning back.

"It’s such a relief you’re alright. Commander Meng said you were sent to Yong City for treatment and had been unconscious. I thought—" She trailed off, but he was safe.

She breathed out and peeked at his shoulder, eyes gleaming with joy.

Cheng Jiu’s manner was cold. Remembering what Cheng Hui had told him, he asked, "Did you ever answer a call for me?" He gave her the date and place—the night he’d been in an all-night meeting and bumped into her after.

Jiang Tang recalled quickly and didn’t pretend otherwise. "Yes, I did. Your sister called, but I hung up after a few words."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing much. She asked if you were around. I said you were busy. Once I knew it was your sister, I told her to call back later." She spoke confidently, but fearing he’d learned something else, explained, "I was a bit curt because we were on a confidential operation—I couldn’t tell anyone. Your sister seemed a little upset."

Jiang Tang remembered that Xin Gan had picked up the call afterward, but she deliberately didn’t mention Xin Gan.

Cheng Jiu’s lips curled, his gaze icy. "Jiang Tang, do you think I’d believe that?" Out of respect for their years of working together, he’d let things go, but since his sister was involved, he couldn’t just drop it.

"Why wouldn’t you believe me? So you suspect I did something?"

"There’s no point talking about this. I’ve made myself clear. And listen—Xin Gan and I are already married. Jiang Tang, this is the last time I’ll tell you: don’t bother her. I’m really not worth all this effort from you."

He didn’t have the heart to be any harsher. No matter what, Jiang Tang was a woman. His intentions were clear—he’d told her again that he and Xin Gan were married. That meant they couldn’t divorce unless he committed a grave mistake. And he had no intention of doing anything like that.

...

Jiang Tang refused to give up and went to see Commander Meng, who was still in his office, buried in paperwork. When he heard the knock, he opened the door.

"Commander Meng, is it true that Cheng Jiu’s married?" she blurted out.

"It’s true. Why would I joke about that?"

"Impossible, that’s impossible." Jiang Tang backed away in disbelief.

"Don’t get stuck on this, Xiao Jiang. His marriage report has been with me for a long time."

She didn’t listen and just ran off.

...

A few days later, news came that Jiang Tang was missing.

Her phone was off, she couldn’t be reached, and her roommates didn’t know where she’d gone.

Cheng Jiu had gone out the day before on the Fishhead case, so he wasn’t around.

Commander Meng acted at once, organizing people to search for her, checking surveillance and following any leads.

...

In Yong City, Cheng Hui had just finished more than a month of military training. She was tanned several shades darker and felt like a little black coal briquette. She even searched online for remedies—almond paste and coix seed porridge with milk, supposedly good for whitening skin. She bought the ingredients online and ate them every day like meals.

After military training ended, it was the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The school gave an eight-day holiday.

Cheng Hui went to Xin Gan’s house to hang out.

Xin Gan was busy with her art studio, so she didn’t have much time for her, but Cheng Hui followed her around anyway.

One time, seeing Cheng Hui eating a bowl of some paste and skipping lunch, Xin Gan asked, "What are you eating?"

"A magic whitening remedy!"

Xin Gan sniffed. "Almonds?"

"Yes!"

"Eating too many almonds will make you gain weight—they’re high in calories."

"What? What should I do? I’ve been eating them for a week!"

"You want to whiten your skin?"

"Of course," Cheng Hui replied.

"Just use sunscreen and stop eating this stuff. Skipping meals will ruin your health."

Her words were prophetic.

On Mid-Autumn Festival, Cheng Hui returned home. Shortly after arriving, she fainted at the door, frightening the housekeeper who was just coming back from grocery shopping. The housekeeper quickly called the driver and rushed her to the hospital.

Her mother arrived soon after, frantic with worry.

When Cheng Hui woke up, she found herself in a hospital bed, an IV in her hand. Seeing her mother, she weakly asked, "What happened to me?"

"You fainted from low blood sugar. The doctor said you haven’t been eating, so your body broke down. What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to lose weight by not eating?" Her mother was furious—first Cheng Jiu had nearly died, and now this.

Cheng Hui mumbled, "I wasn’t dieting, I was—"

"If not dieting, then what?"

Seeing her mother so angry, Cheng Hui shrank back and didn’t dare talk back.

She spent most of the day in the hospital. After two IV drips, the doctor said she was fine and let her go.

Her mother had to leave midway, so the housekeeper stayed to look after her.

Cheng Hui licked her lips, sitting bored on a bench while the housekeeper went to the restroom. She pulled out her phone to pass the time.

At the other end of the corridor stood He Chuan and Tang Huaihuai.

He Chuan stood with his hands in his pockets, handsome in a white shirt with three buttons open at the chest, looking striking even just standing there.

Tang Huaihuai finished paying the bills and walked over. "Let’s go—the lab is on the second floor."

He Chuan nodded and glanced casually down the corridor, seeing Cheng Hui slumped on a bench, looking unwell. He stopped Tang Huaihuai. "You go ahead. I’ll step out for a smoke."

"Alright, I’ll find you downstairs after my tests." Tang Huaihuai didn’t think much of it, focused on her paperwork.

Once she’d gone upstairs, He Chuan walked over to Cheng Hui.

People who are sick always look a bit worse for wear. Cheng Hui’s lips were pale and cracked.

She heard footsteps but thought it was just a passerby, so she kept her head down, staring at her phone.

He Chuan stood beside her, his tall figure casting a shadow over her. Suddenly, he said, "None of these guys are as good-looking as me. Why are you watching so intently?"

Cheng Hui was watching a livestream at the moment, the screen showing a heavily filtered male streamer. At her age, she loved games and naturally followed gaming streamers.

There was a generational gap between her and He Chuan; he had no idea what she was watching and asked out of curiosity.

At the sound of his voice, Cheng Hui jumped and looked up in shock, her soul nearly leaving her body. Annoyed, she snapped, "What are you doing? Trying to scare me like a ghost in broad daylight?"