Chapter 26: Was It Always Like This?

Sang Yijia lowered her head, looking at the milky white plastic bag handed to her by Lu Wenchuan. The bag wasn’t transparent, but inside she could make out several small, round, green fruits.

“A gift for me?” Sang Yijia had never expected Lu Wenchuan would bring this. She was stunned for a few seconds before taking the bag and opening it to find green hawthorn berries.

They weren’t particularly fresh.

But their fragrance was strong and invigorating, making Sang Yijia feel more awake. “Thank you.”

“And where’s my gift?” Lu Wenchuan took the fruit tea from her, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Is this it?”

“No,” Sang Yijia shook her head, denying it. She rummaged through her pocket for a moment and pulled out a box of mint candies. “This is for you.”

The mint candies weren’t cheap—ten yuan for a box. All of Sang Yijia’s money was gone.

“Grape flavor?” Lu Wenchuan glanced at it. “I thought you’d buy peach.”

“If you like it,” Sang Yijia looked up at him, “I’ll get it next time.”

The small box spun between Lu Wenchuan’s fingers as he refused, “No need. I don’t like peach flavor.”

“Grape is pretty good.”

Sang Yijia sensed a hidden meaning in his words, but seeing his serious expression, she wondered if she was just overthinking.

“This is from the manager. Tonight’s meal money.” Apparently, it was a day’s wage, though Sang Yijia hadn’t checked how much there was.

Lu Wenchuan looked both ways down the street, then at the setting sun. “Let’s find somewhere to eat.”

“And then head back.”

Lu Wenchuan noticed Sang Yijia’s face looked pale, especially her cheeks, which were overly flushed, but he didn’t ask.

They walked side by side, but kept a stranger’s distance between them.

The group director, after following them all day, was utterly discouraged—especially watching the live stream’s viewer count drop steadily. By evening, there might not be a single person left.

The director sighed, checking other streams’ viewer numbers on his phone. Every other stream had millions of viewers.

But theirs…

“Director, it’s not working for us,” said a staff member, equally anxious.

The director pointed at the two ahead, especially the gap between them. “You think two people could stand between them?”

The staff member stayed silent.

“How am I supposed to work with this? Should I tie them together by force?”

The director’s voice was loud enough that people passing by glanced at them, then at Sang Yijia and Lu Wenchuan, and laughed.

“They’re talking about us,” Sang Yijia looked back, then at Lu Wenchuan beside her. The space between them could fit two people, though only if they were slim.

Lu Wenchuan didn’t look back and seemed unbothered.

Passing a pharmacy, Lu Wenchuan stopped as Sang Yijia glanced inside and walked in.

The follow-up crew entered behind them.

The pharmacy’s air conditioning wasn’t set too low; the temperature was comfortable.

“Do you have cold medicine?” Sang Yijia was sure she’d caught a cold and didn’t want to trouble anyone else. She planned to take medicine before bed and be better by morning.

The pharmacist, hearing the commotion and knowing a filming crew was around today, hadn’t expected them to come in. She froze for two seconds before responding, “Yes, what kind do you need?”

She looked at Sang Yijia. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“A little dizzy, but otherwise okay,” Sang Yijia replied.

The pharmacist was an older lady, who’d seen plenty of young people like them. “You all are healthy, but without exercise, a sudden change in temperature will always bring on a cold.”

“Drink more hot water when you get home—it’s not just an old saying.” She found a box of cold medicine, then glanced at the man behind Sang Yijia. “Let your boyfriend take better care of you.”

“Otherwise, what’s the point of having a boyfriend?”

“I understand,” Lu Wenchuan agreed without protest.

After they left, Sang Yijia sneezed. “Sorry for causing you trouble.”

“It’s nothing,” Lu Wenchuan looked at her, a shadow flickering in his eyes. “Were you always like this?”

“Yes,” Sang Yijia nodded. “I argued with my family before—they didn’t know.”

The original Sang Yijia was strong-willed, never letting her family know, preferring to endure hardships herself rather than seek reconciliation.

In that, Sang Yijia was much the same.

Years ago after graduating college, she found a job but was scammed, left with only fifty yuan. She hadn’t asked the orphanage director for money.

Sang Yijia moved in with a roommate, and when she couldn’t find work, she stayed home cooking and cleaning. Once employed, she paid her roommate back, leaving herself penniless again—but the feeling of owing nothing was truly liberating.

The aftereffect was that Sang Yijia spent three months trying not to spend a cent. The company provided food and accommodation, and as long as utilities stayed under two hundred, there was no charge.

Sang Yijia was frugal—no air conditioning, no washing machine, and avoided using appliances whenever possible. Her monthly electricity bill was less than fifty; two months’ water bill was also under fifty.

When she saved her first bit of money, she finally felt a little bit of security.

But that was all in the past. Looking back now, Sang Yijia thought it was nothing, just a small matter.

Lu Wenchuan didn’t press further. Passing a restaurant, he said, “You’re not feeling well. Let’s eat something light.”

“Alright,” Sang Yijia agreed, following him inside.

As work hours ended, their livestream’s viewers began to increase, though still not exceeding a hundred. Still, it was better than the handful from before.

The director stroked his chin, watching the two on camera. “How should I put it?”

“Their way of interacting is pretty normal, isn’t it?”

After all, they had only just met and were now declared a couple.

His words were recorded, and as new viewers entered the live broadcast, they were curious and began asking questions in the comment section.

[I know this one!]

…

Elsewhere, Shen Jing and Lan Qing had finished work, but weren’t in a hurry for dinner. Hand in hand, they strolled along a street full of local specialties.

Lan Qing again passed the octopus ball shop and thought of Sang Yijia. Tilting her head toward Shen Jing, she asked, “Why is she doing food delivery?”

“Was it arranged by the crew?”

“Not sure.” Having received her first day’s wage, Shen Jing shifted the topic, “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

Lan Qing shook her head, “I don’t know.”

“What about you, Shen Jing? Is there anything you want to eat?” Lan Qing hadn’t given him a gift yet and didn’t know what would be best.

Looking at the street stalls selling all kinds of small trinkets, Lan Qing suggested, “Why don’t we try some street food?”

“Alright, whatever you like.” Shen Jing’s look was doting, his tone impossibly gentle.

The viewers in the livestream couldn’t help but get goosebumps.

[I feel like they’re dating on the company’s dime.]

[So sweet—if they don’t end up together, it would be such a pity.]

[His eyes are full of Qing Qing. I’m so jealous, but it’s so sweet I can’t stand it…]