Chapter 46: Blurred Memories

Sigh, it’s time for work again.

Xu Yunzhu got out of bed, put on the suit she’d laid out the night before, and, after washing up, tidied her hair in front of the mirror.

The face in the mirror was handsome and striking.

Every day, Xu Yunzhu would be momentarily stunned by this face’s beauty.

In the book, probably only a heroine as skilled as the female lead could ever reel in someone like Pei Qiaonian.

Her good mood was abruptly shattered the next second.

She heard the mechanical voice echoing endlessly in her mind.

[Beep, warning, target’s favorability -70.]

[Beep, warning, target’s favorability -75.]

[Beep, warning, target’s favorability -80.]

Xu Yunzhu: “...”

What the hell!

She dashed out of her room in a panic, urgently instructing Assistant Gao, “Get me a tablet.”

Assistant Gao asked, “President Pei, do you want to look at the documents now?”

Xu Yunzhu’s expression was blank, her tone resentful, “No, I want to watch the livestream!”

Assistant Gao: “...”

Xu Yunzhu pulled up the show “Love Monsoon.”

Then she scrolled back to the very beginning of the recording.

Fifteen points down just this morning—Pei Qiaonian, you really live up to your reputation!

The show started at seven in the morning.

As a love observer, Pei Qiaonian had to wake up three couples before eight.

After assembling downstairs at the hotel, the production team would give them a seven-seater van. They’d then decide among themselves who would drive to a villa somewhere in Haicheng and begin a three-day, two-night romantic getaway.

But Pei Qiaonian had been woken by the crew at six.

With his wild bedhead and a cloud of gloom heavier than a ghost’s, he looked absolutely murderous.

Xu Yunzhu knew he was a nightmare in the mornings—his cold face was suffocating even through the screen.

Meanwhile, the comments were lively.

[My god, does the show have to be this early? My resentment is as heavy as Xu Yunzhu’s—who else sets an alarm to watch this live?]

[Sure, you can watch the replay, but it’s so much more fun live. If I were Xu Yunzhu, I’d eat the camera.]

[Hahaha, is Crazy Sis holding back because of the cameras? I actually think Xu Yunzhu’s scenes are pretty interesting—she’s not as annoying as before.]

[Putting on airs, who’s the cold face for? As if someone owes her something!]

Among the comments, some were positive, some negative.

But surprisingly, there was no longer the fierce resistance to Xu Yunzhu as before.

Xu Yunzhu let out a silent sigh.

From the original owner’s memories—some vivid, some hazy—she discovered that the original had never had a good life.

An adoptive father who was violent and a drunk, an adoptive mother who was weak. After the father lost the ability to have children in an accident, his temper grew even worse. He’d get drunk and beat people, always feeling inferior because he had no children, so he took out all his anger on his wife.

Her adoptive mother thought, maybe if there was a child in the house, he’d stop hitting her.

So, by chance, she spent five thousand yuan to buy her—a trafficked child.

At the time, the original owner was only five. She knew she’d been abducted, but she was too afraid to even cry, sitting quietly and obediently.

And so she moved into her adoptive parents’ house.

But her arrival only made things worse.

Her adoptive father grew even angrier, blaming her mother for wasting five thousand yuan on a useless girl. From then on, there was one more person to beat.

Xu Yunzhu grew up in that environment until she turned sixteen.

Until...

That blurry memory slowly became clear.

It was as if the original owner was showing her all her scars.

She was nearly assaulted by her adoptive father—on a pitch-black night, with the sound of torn clothes and drunken insults and laughter. Her adoptive mother broke in and protected her, shouting for her to run. The mother was beaten senseless, and the girl fled in a panic, her adoptive father chasing close behind.

With nowhere else to go, she jumped into the icy river.

She swam with all her strength, putting as much distance as she could between herself and her pursuer. By luck, she survived. She even remembered fragments from when she was five, found her birth family, and sought their protection.

But her adoptive mother wasn’t so lucky—crippled by the beating, nearly killed.

And the perpetrator, with the village’s backing, was only detained for a few months. When he got out, he ran away, abandoning his gravely ill wife.

The original owner returned to the Xu family, but their gaze wasn’t that of parents towards a daughter, but towards a stranger.

Perhaps even a stranger would be treated better. At least strangers would smile at others, but never at Xu Yunzhu.

They only blamed her for coming back.

For disturbing their peace, for taking Xu Muning’s engagement, for bringing them trouble.

Their only requirement for her was to keep the engagement alive, or else she’d be kicked out and her adoptive mother’s medical bills would be cut off.

In that moment, Xu Yunzhu finally understood.

She understood why the original owner chased after Pei Jin.

And why it hurt so much to hear the engagement was over.

Maybe she didn’t really love Pei Jin—she just despaired that fate never showed her any mercy.

After all, she was just cannon fodder, doomed to die early in the story.

Xu Yunzhu felt something cold on her face. When she reached up, she found tears—she hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.

Through the rearview mirror, Assistant Gao watched her with a complicated expression.

Don’t love so deeply.

It hadn’t been that long since they’d last met, yet here she was, crying again.

He cleared his throat. “President Pei, this cooperation meeting will only take about two hours.”

His subtext: after these two hours, she’d have the whole day to find her wife.

Xu Yunzhu wiped her tears with her sleeve, afraid Assistant Gao would tell Pei Qiaonian about her state today, so she warned, “You’re not allowed to tell him I cried today.”

After all, Pei Qiaonian didn’t like her using his body to laugh, much less to cry.

If he found out, she’d get scolded again.

Assistant Gao sighed inwardly. Poor boss.

Xu Yunzhu pulled herself together and continued watching the livestream.

On screen, she saw Pei Qiaonian deftly tie a high ponytail—currently, that was the only hairstyle he could manage.

He wore a fitted black dress that showed off his curves, with slender, pale legs and flat leather shoes. His expression was icy and beautiful—not at all like someone sent to wake people up, but more like an avenger.

The first room he went to was Pei Jin’s.

It was only six-thirty.

At this hour, everyone was still catching up on sleep. Last night’s recording went until ten, and after tidying up, it was past midnight before anyone could sleep. In these circumstances, eight would be considered a full night’s rest.

If they were ordinary artists, they’d wait until around seven-thirty to wake people up one by one. The awakened stars would cooperate, creating a warm, friendly atmosphere.

But Pei Qiaonian simply raised a fist and knocked loudly on the door.

Standing outside, he pressed his soft voice low, sounding fierce: “Open up.”

No answer.

He waited a few minutes, realizing Pei Jin was deliberately ignoring him.

Impatient, he checked the time—already six forty.

Ten minutes wasted.

Didn’t they know his time was precious?

He turned to the nearby cameraman, hand outstretched, and said coldly, “Give me the spare key to this room.”