Chapter Thirty-Six: A Slightly Mischievous Little Hand

"Huaguo, June 6th, 2022. Light rain."
"It’s the eighth day since I crossed into this world. Every day, with nothing to do, I flirt a little with Ji Mei and tease Xi Baozi."
"Ever since I found out You Green Bean is a wealthy lady, I’ve actually been wanting to see her again, but haven’t gotten the chance."
"Unboxing log: just a pile of junk, really has that 'Ma Fu' vibe."
"Making money is too slow, I need to step it up."

Inside the rented apartment.
Chen Fang put down his pen and looked at the freshly written diary.
Hmm...
What kind of proper person keeps a diary, anyway?
Fortunately, Chen Fang was never much of a “proper” person.
"Ji Mei isn’t back yet."
He closed his diary and stashed it away securely.

The third round of the talent show had brought some changes, and the theme hadn’t been announced yet, which was frustrating.
Without knowing the theme, Chen Fang couldn’t select songs from Earth’s repertoire in advance.
Moreover, his popularity had been steadily rising recently.
On one hand, it was because the official version of “Fragrant Rice” had been released; both Future Stardom and Chen Fang’s name had been trending nonstop, perhaps due to the company’s efforts, but there was no denying the song’s immense influence.
After all, most songs in Huaguo revolved around love and romance.
An original childhood anthem like this, thrown into Huaguo’s music scene, was like a drop of water in a hot pan of oil—explosive.

Beyond that, An Tinghan was preparing to release a new song.
Ahead of the release, Dream Builder Entertainment had held a special press conference.
Riding the wave of this press conference, Chen Fang’s fame surged even higher.
As of now, his plan to make money was progressing steadily.
He had set “Anhe Bridge,” “Zebra Zebra,” and “Love Confession Balloon” to be free to listen to—no cost to fans.
But “Fragrant Rice,” released as a prelude by Future Stardom, required payment.

Q Cloud Music had two pay models:
The first was the typical membership; open a membership, and all songs on the platform were free to listen.
The second was single-track purchases—a song for one yuan.
A fair price.
When a listener paid one yuan, the platform took thirty percent, that’s thirty cents, and the remaining seventy went to the singer and their company.
According to Chen Fang’s B-level contract, he split earnings fifty-fifty with the company.
So, for every yuan spent on “Fragrant Rice,” Chen Fang pocketed thirty-five cents.
Aside from the annual fixed salary of over a million yuan from Future Stardom, Chen Fang also earned song royalties—a considerable income.
Yet, he still felt it wasn’t fast enough.

Chen Fang considered his options.
Actually, short videos offered a lot of potential, though they were a bit troublesome.
“Maybe I should write a few more new songs?”
That was doable.
If he had nothing else to do, he could just write more songs.
Even if he didn’t sing them himself, he could give them to other artists under Future Stardom.
Of course—

What mattered most to Chen Fang was that the payment for An Tinghan’s song had finally come through.
He was about to pick up his pen and paper to consider which song to “transport” next, when his phone rang on the table—it was Ji Mei.
Chen Fang answered, “Miss me?”
“I did. Come here and let me give you a kiss.”
“You can’t reach me.”
He replied offhandedly.
These days, his conversations with Ji Mei had all been like this, sometimes even more risqué.
Ji Mei huffed, but then said, “My flight to the capital is at three this afternoon. Come pick me up.”
She was finally coming back!
Chen Fang could hardly wait.
“What’s the reward for picking you up?”
“Take a guess.”
Ji Mei answered with a mysterious smile.
Before Chen Fang could say anything else, she hung up.
He had lost all desire to write songs—who could focus at a time like this?

At noon, Pang Tong was munching on a vegetable salad.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Chen Fang, getting dressed, replied, “To the company.”
Can lying to your brother really be called lying?
It’s just a white lie.
All to protect the fragile self-esteem of the chubby one.
Truth be told, Chen Fang had thought Pang Tong would give up halfway through his diet, but to his surprise, the effort had paid off—he’d slimmed down a lot, his once-chubby cheeks visibly thinner.

Chen Fang was curious.
“Fatty, what’s your motivation to lose weight?”
“Women.”
“And your motivation to make money?”
“Women.”
Hearing this, Chen Fang felt gratified.
Watching Pang Tong act as if he couldn’t live without women, Chen Fang thought his brother was one step closer to becoming a certified simp.
Patting Pang Tong on the shoulder, he said earnestly, “Stick with the diet. Next year, I’ll find you a wife.”
Pang Tong nodded vigorously.

With that, Chen Fang hurried out.
As the door shut, Pang Tong finally realized,
“You’ll find me a wife? What’s that got to do with me?”
Damn!
He felt he’d been played.

Chen Fang left early, not heading straight to the airport, but stopping at a shopping center to buy a few new outfits.
If you have money, you should enjoy it.
In Chen Fang’s dictionary, money wasn’t for saving—it was for spending.
Changing into a brand-new casual suit, he hailed a ride to the airport.

What he hadn’t expected was that he’d underestimated his own fame.
The moment he arrived, he was recognized.
A swarm of young girls surrounded him, asking for autographs and photos.

Only now did Chen Fang understand why An Tinghan always wrapped herself up like a mummy.
“Everyone, I’m here to pick someone up.”
“My friend is arriving, please let me through.”
Being tall had its advantages.
Chen Fang spotted Ji Mei as soon as she walked out of the arrivals gate. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way to her and took her luggage.

“You’re pretty popular, aren’t you?”
Ji Mei’s smile was radiant.
Chen Fang shrugged.
What could he do?
Too handsome!
Anyone who saw him would get dizzy.

Once they got into the car, the crowd of fans finally dispersed.
“I only asked you to pick me up as a joke,” Ji Mei admitted, leaning her head on his shoulder, clearly tired.
Chen Fang casually wrapped his arm around her waist—the sensation was incredible, and his hand began to inch upward.
The next second, the back of his hand was slapped.
Ji Mei glanced at the rearview mirror, signaling him to behave.

Yet, that touch seemed to make Ji Mei’s body even softer, her chest pressing against his arm in an unmistakably intimate way.
“You said you’d come get me, so of course I waited for you,” Chen Fang said, settling down a little.
No rush!
There’d be plenty of time once they got home.

Ji Mei closed her eyes and murmured, “Now that you’ve signed with a company, you should report your schedule to your agent. And showing up in crowded places like the airport makes it easy for paparazzi to snap photos and write gossip.”
She wasn’t worried about him not coming.
It was just that, after signing with a company, things become less free and more regulated.
That was inevitable.

Chen Fang fell silent.
He wouldn’t dare tell Xi Yuanyuan he’d come to the airport to pick up Ji Mei—these days, that woman had been acting as if she were going through early menopause, never showing him a good face.
It made him feel as though he owed her money.
By comparison, Ji Mei was so much better.
Gentle, considerate, understanding.
And above all, so soft.

At that thought, Chen Fang’s hand grew restless again.
This time, like an eel, it slid under Ji Mei’s clothes.
He expected her to stop him as before, but to his surprise, Ji Mei was even bolder—her small hand slid up his thigh, inching higher and higher.

Chen Fang couldn’t help but cough.
Up front, the driver glanced at the rearview mirror in confusion, but Ji Mei had already covered her own mischievous hand with her bag.

“Young man, are you sick?”
The driver asked.

Head lowered, Chen Fang could barely contain himself, forcing out a strained, “No, sir. Please drive a little faster.”