Chapter Forty-One: Apology

Lan Qing saw what she wanted to see and the corners of her lips curled ever so slightly, yet with Shen Jin present, she refrained from showing it, revealing only an anxious expression.

“What should I do?” Lan Qing looked up at Shen Jin helplessly. “It’s because of me; now they’re blaming Jia Jia for everything.”

Shen Jin observed her kindness and thought to himself: she truly is a pampered young lady, unaware of the world’s dangers—but that was enough.

“It’s alright,” Shen Jin soothed her, “we’ll clarify things on Weibo in a while; everything will be fine.”

Such public attention was actually beneficial for them.

Shen Jin’s lips curved in a faint smile. “I’ll share your post then, and everyone will know the truth.”

“Alright.” Lan Qing agreed.

—

The trending topic on Weibo was suppressed, but the issue hadn’t been fully resolved.

Mo Yani called Sang Yijia after learning about the matter, but Sang Yijia didn’t seem to care at all. Mo Yani couldn’t tell if it was genuine or feigned indifference, yet she put aside her work to deal with it.

The Weibo trend spread fast—within two minutes, everyone in the company knew.

Lei Yang came over holding a coffee cup, his fingers elegantly poised. “Didn’t sleep well last night, and today there’s no rest either.”

“Mo Yani, the artist you manage really isn’t easy.”

“Do you have anything else to say?” Earlier that morning, Lei Yang had mentioned to Sang Yijia about Mo Yani taking on other artists, so Mo Yani no longer bothered to maintain a facade of peace.

Lei Yang, however, saw things differently. “Isn’t it exhausting to keep managing Sang Yijia?”

“You don’t dare to say you won’t take her on, but if she initiates it herself, isn’t it just as well?” Lei Yang gazed at her intensely. “Haven’t you ever thought about it?”

Mo Yani fell silent.

Lei Yang had said all he needed to say; the rest was up to Mo Yani.

After he left, Mo Yani stared blankly at her computer screen. Within seconds, her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, she answered, “How’s it going?”

“Sister Yani, it’s no use.”

“The production team won’t hand over the footage for some reason. What should we do?” The assistant was anxious. “Sister Jia Jia was just trying to help—how did things turn out like this?”

Mo Yani calmed down. She didn’t ask about the footage, but instead inquired, “What do you think of Sang Yijia?”

The assistant was taken aback, then answered honestly, “Sister Jia Jia can be frustrating at times, but she’s genuinely good-hearted.”

The assistant hesitated. “Last time, when my mom was hospitalized and money was tight, Sister Jia Jia found a hospital for us and even covered several thousand for medical bills.”

“Sister Yani, I still owe her money.” The assistant said bashfully. “By the way, Sister Yani, why are you suddenly asking?”

Mo Yani shook her head, then realizing the other couldn’t see, denied it aloud. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s alright, I’ll handle the rest.” Without waiting for the assistant’s reply, Mo Yani hung up, staring straight at her phone screen, contemplating how to resolve the situation.

—

The black carp weighed a full ten pounds. Sang Yijia and Lu Wenchuan had completed their task, but the production team seemed disinterested and ended it hastily.

Sang Yijia didn’t feel slighted; she thought this sort of show was just fine.

Lu Wenchuan saw they still had time. “Are we heading back now?”

“Shall we take a walk nearby?” They were still some distance from the old town, and walking back to the farmhouse would take at least an hour. Lu Wenchuan remembered Sang Yijia had wanted to explore the area.

Only one camera crew remained; the others were elsewhere. It was quiet with fewer people.

“Sure.” Sang Yijia glanced around, tapping her chin with her index finger. “Is there anything interesting to see here?”

“Shall we go up the mountain?” Lu Wenchuan had noticed a pomegranate orchard nearby—this season, it should be ripe.

Sang Yijia shook her head. “Better not. We’re unfamiliar with the area, and most of these are private fishponds and orchards. It wouldn’t be good to wander into the wrong place.”

“Wait a moment.” Lu Wenchuan turned to make a phone call.

Wei Heng, who was busy with a qualifying match, saw the incoming call. He frowned, wanting to decline, but felt he couldn’t.

Wei Heng sighed and answered, “What is it?”

“Do you have any businesses near Qingyao Old Town?” Lu Wenchuan recalled that Wei Heng owned a vineyard there and made his own wine.

“Yes.” Wei Heng was still thinking about his game. “Just check the map.”

“I have to go, busy right now.” Wei Heng hung up before Lu Wenchuan could reply, rushing back to his match—only to find the game was already over.

A bold ‘Defeat’ flashed on the screen.

“Damn.” Wei Heng clicked his tongue. “Lu Wenchuan, I really do owe you.”

On the other side, Lu Wenchuan had already anticipated Wei Heng would hang up. He ended the call before that happened, put his phone away, and returned to Sang Yijia. “There’s a vineyard nearby. Want to take a look?”

“Is it your friend’s?” Sang Yijia knew he’d made a call, likely to ask someone. “Is it okay?”

“No problem.” Lu Wenchuan replied. “Let’s see if we can find a car to drive back.”

Sang Yijia murmured, feeling a bit embarrassed as she scratched her cheek. “Sorry about earlier.”

“It’s nothing.” Lu Wenchuan wouldn’t bring it up again; his words were simply to ease any pressure Sang Yijia might feel.

“Let’s go.” Lu Wenchuan found the route on his phone. Sang Yijia leaned over for a look, memorized the way, then turned her head to glance at him.

Lu Wenchuan’s expression was unchanged, calmly studying the map and committing it to memory.

Suddenly, he looked up and met Sang Yijia’s lively black eyes. His heart skipped uncontrollably.

“It’s quite far.” Sang Yijia withdrew her gaze. She’d just seen it—walking alone would be fifteen hundred meters.

She could handle it, but wasn’t sure if Lu Wenchuan could.

“It’s not far.” Lu Wenchuan shook his head. “Just follow the path and we’ll get there.”

The camera crew assumed Sang Yijia would be affected by the trending topic, rushing back after the task, perhaps to visit Shen Jin and Lan Qing at the hospital. But they hadn’t expected Sang Yijia to entirely disregard them and head to the orchard with Lu Wenchuan instead.

The segment director licked his lips, wanting to remind them. “Yijia, aren’t you going to the hospital to check on Lan Qing and Shen Jin?”

Sang Yijia paused and turned to the camera. “Aren’t they alright now?”

“That’s not quite right, is it? Everyone online is talking about you.” The segment director had just received instructions—the chief director wanted Sang Yijia to go to the hospital and apologize to Lan Qing.

“After all, it started because of you. Apologizing seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” Seeing Sang Yijia’s expression change, the director’s voice grew quieter with each word.