Chapter Ninety-Three: The Gathering

Jiang Yun replied earnestly, “This has nothing to do with whether I’m a man or not!”

“Heh!”

Wang Fengwan was so exasperated she laughed. “I’m actually laughing out of anger! You’re really useless!”

“How do you mean?” Jiang Yun looked genuinely puzzled.

Wang Fengwan didn’t bother to trade more pointless words with him. “I have no shoot tomorrow. You’re coming shopping with me!” she ordered.

Jiang Yun rolled his eyes. Shopping with you? Are we close? She acts like she’s worth millions.

“What’s with that face? Is it such a hardship to shop with me?”

Jiang Yun was blunt as always. “No time.”

“Fine, I’ll ask someone else.”

“So, are you leaving now?” Jiang Yun asked.

Wang Fengwan didn’t insist. She strode out of the room.

After leaving, she rounded a corner and placed a call. “Hello, Mengya, he said no.”

“Mm, all right, that’s it then.”

Had Jiang Yun seen this, he would’ve been surprised. When did these two become so close?

The phone rang.

Jiang Yun answered. “Hello, Jiang Yun, the crew’s having a dinner tonight at Village Banquet.”

“All right, I’ll send someone to pick you and Wang Fengwan up.”

After hanging up, Jiang Yun waited quietly in his room.

There was a knock.

Jiang Yun opened the door and froze. “Why are you back again?”

Wang Fengwan was dressed in a bright red gown. “Of course, for the dinner!”

Jiang Yun sighed. “Fine.”

About twenty minutes later, his phone rang.

Jiang Yun answered, “Okay.”

He hung up. “The car’s here. Let’s go down.”

“All right!”

The two headed downstairs, where a Fengtian coupe was parked by the curb.

The driver opened the car door for them. “Mr. Jiang Yun.”

Jiang Yun, ever the gentleman, let Wang Fengwan in first, then sat in the front passenger seat rather than beside her.

The engine purred to life, and the driver took them away.

Village Banquet was a high-end restaurant, known for its summer cuisine and offering dishes from all eight major culinary traditions.

At the entrance stood two rows of greeters, a red carpet stretching into the main hall.

Wang Fengwan walked beside Jiang Yun, taking his arm. Jiang Yun didn’t refuse; after all, it was a matter of etiquette.

Arm in arm, they walked into the hall.

The greeters, perfectly trained, called out in unison, “Welcome to Village Banquet!”

A hostess stepped forward. “Do you have a reservation?”

Wang Fengwan smiled politely. “A private room under Mr. Liu Guoqiang’s name.”

“This way, please.”

The hostess led the way, Jiang Yun and Wang Fengwan following. They took the elevator to the third floor, where the hostess brought them to a room.

She knocked.

The door opened from within.

“Good evening, sir!”

Liu Guoqiang nodded. “You’re finally here!”

Jiang Yun and Wang Fengwan entered. Jiang Yun took off his red jacket and hung it on the rack.

“Waiter, start serving, please.”

“Yes, sir!”

It was a small gathering: the associate director, the scriptwriter, some lead actors—a dozen or so in all. Notably, the actor playing Galeo—Ren Xing—was present.

The associate director was a man in his thirties named Li An.

The scriptwriter, a woman, was named Hong Lu.

Both smiled at Jiang Yun, who smiled back.

Liu Guoqiang beckoned, “Jiang Yun, sit here!”

Jiang Yun took the seat at Liu Guoqiang’s left.

Wang Fengwan pouted, “Director, where should I sit?”

“Fengwan, sit next to Jiang Yun,” Liu Guoqiang laughed.

“Yay!”

So Jiang Yun sat at Liu Guoqiang’s left, with Wang Fengwan at his own left, followed by Hong Lu, Li An, and the others.

“Eight Treasure Duck! Please enjoy your meal!”

The dishes began to arrive.

“Fish-Fragrant Eggplant! Please enjoy!”

“Crispy Shredded Pork! ...”

“All right, everything’s here. Let’s eat!” Liu Guoqiang announced.

“Drinks?” Liu Guoqiang asked.

Li An grinned. “Let’s have a little!”

“You old drunk,” Liu Guoqiang teased.

“Waiter!”

A waiter entered. “Yes, what can I get you?”

“Two bottles—no, make it four bottles of Taijiu, and two bottles of Falan.”

“Very well.”

“Whoa, that much?” Hong Lu protested.

“Ladies, you should have a little too!”

“All right.”

With the drinks served, the group began to eat and drink.

After a few rounds, the conversation grew lively, laughter and talk filling the room.

Ren Xing sat quietly, watching the others. He was clear-headed, observing it all.

Ren Xing was twenty-two, had started as a trainee at eighteen, and had already debuted for four years.

He sighed inwardly. After four years, he was still a minor celebrity, stuck on the fringes of the industry. In the beginning, his youth had drawn many young fans, but after turning twenty, his agency rarely gave him opportunities. This role in “Battle Horse’s Sky” had only been secured thanks to his manager’s efforts.

He glanced around at the others, pausing when his gaze landed on Jiang Yun.

For Jiang Yun, too, sat there with the air of being the only sober one among the drunk, tranquil and detached.

Sensing someone’s gaze, Jiang Yun looked up, meeting Ren Xing’s eyes.

Jiang Yun smiled and nodded.

Ren Xing paused, then raised his glass in a silent toast.

Jiang Yun did the same, and both drank.

“Jiang Yun, come to the restroom with me.”

“What for?”

“Hurry up!”

“All right, all right!” Unable to refuse, Jiang Yun agreed.

Standing up, he said, “Excuse me, everyone, I’ll accompany Fengwan to the restroom.”

Wang Fengwan rolled her eyes beside him. This Jiang Yun, so cautious, even announcing to everyone before going to the restroom with her. He really left no room for rumors—Jiang Yun simply cut off all gossip at the source.

“Go on, then!” Liu Guoqiang waved them off.

Jiang Yun smiled. “Let’s go.”

Wang Fengwan was so frustrated her nose almost went crooked. If he didn’t want rumors with her, she certainly didn’t want any with him either.

Once outside the room, Wang Fengwan staggered along.

Jiang Yun, hands in his pockets, asked, “Are you faking it? Do you need me to help you?”

Though he spoke of helping, he made no move whatsoever.

Wang Fengwan was nearly livid.

They reached the restroom. Wang Fengwan went in, while Jiang Yun leaned against the sink, waiting with hands in his pockets.

The sound of retching came from inside.

Jiang Yun lowered his gaze, hands still in his pockets—looking effortless and unrestrained.

Wang Fengwan emerged.

“All right now?”

“Mm.”

Jiang Yun walked on ahead. “Let’s go.”

P.S. Thanks to “Gaga-” for one monthly ticket, and to “*Yun Yun” for eleven recommendation tickets.