Chapter Fifty-Nine: A Gift for You

Ji Mei was not the kind of girl who enjoyed the current wave of popular idol dramas.

She admitted freely that she was a slave to good looks.

After all, attractive features really could brighten one's mood.

But when it came to TV series, Ji Mei couldn’t stand brainless plots; such mindless storylines made her subconsciously assume the lead characters were idiots as well, and all the charm of their good looks would vanish in an instant.

Because of this, when Su Muruo mentioned a historical fantasy romance drama, Ji Mei immediately lost interest.

It sounded terrible right from the start!

Of course, if her best friend were acting in it, she might watch a few episodes out of loyalty.

Su Muruo scoffed, but she understood Ji Mei’s tastes and temperament well enough not to take offense. “Hey, I don’t have much of a choice—the Shanghai entertainment scene is tough. Short dramas are all the rage now, and those crafty investors want to hire extras for peanuts to act in them. Making money is really hard.”

Short dramas had one thing going for them—they were brief.

Just a few minutes an episode.

The plots were brainless as ever, but as long as the audience enjoyed themselves, it didn’t matter. Usually, famous actors wouldn’t bother with such productions—they weren’t worth it. Using extras with low fees actually yielded better results.

“If it doesn’t work out, just go home,” Ji Mei said calmly. “Your parents have been wanting you to get married for ages. They’re just waiting for grandchildren.”

Ji Mei herself didn’t see anything wrong with that.

Her family was average.

Over the years, she’d climbed to her current position on her own; her family hadn’t helped much, but she was content. At least her parents hadn’t held her back, and certainly hadn’t pressured her to marry.

Su Muruo, on the other hand, came from a well-off family. Both her parents were actors, and she’d grown up as a child star, collaborating with many big names in the industry. Even if she left showbiz, her family could easily support her.

In a way, Chen Fang and Ji Mei were of the same kind—self-made.

The only difference was that Chen Fang’s circumstances were harsher—he didn’t even have his parents.

“I don’t want to get married,” Su Muruo declared. “Men these days all seem to have something wrong with them.”

She shook her head.

Having spent so long in the entertainment industry, Su Muruo had seen every kind of sordid and unspoken rule. If it weren’t for her privileged background, she might have become some big shot’s canary long ago. Perhaps because she’d witnessed so much darkness, she couldn’t help but believe that no man was worth trusting.

Men, all ruled by their base desires.

Suddenly, her thoughts turned to Chen Fang.

Chen Fang was a bit of a flirt too, but at least he was good-looking and well-built. Marrying him would be a bit uncomfortable, but it was still better than ending up with some beer-bellied, balding man.

No! Why was she thinking about that scoundrel again?!

Su Muruo’s face filled with irritation.

Ji Mei didn’t know what was going through her friend’s mind, but offered a word of comfort from a reasonable perspective. “There are still some normal men out there. And to be fair, you think all men are crazy, but these days men think women are just as bad. Nobody seems to appreciate anyone anymore.”

At any rate, neither of them wanted to get married.

Upon hearing this, Su Muruo simply gave up and tuned out.

She’d rather die than go home and get married.

In the end,

Su Muruo was still a young girl at heart.

What she longed for was a beautiful romance, not a bland marriage.

The two women chatted for a long time.

In the kitchen, Chen Fang reheated the food he’d bought earlier, plated it, and carried it to the dining table.

“Dinner’s ready,” he called out.

Ji Mei took Su Muruo’s hand and led her to the table. Chen Fang didn’t bother looking at Su Muruo’s expression—he knew she wouldn’t be giving him any kindness, and he didn’t care, either.

“You know how to cook?” Su Muruo quipped. “Or did you buy this outside?”

She was never one to let things go.

Chen Fang nodded without shame. “I bought it. At least I paid for it, unlike some people who freeload here and don’t spend a cent.”

Ha! Trying to outtalk me?

You’re not even in my league.

Chen Fang secretly felt triumphant.

The screech of a fork against the plate cut through the air.

Su Muruo glared at Chen Fang with hatred, her white teeth clenched as though she might bite him at any moment.

Chen Fang ignored her, smiling as he scooped a bowl of rice for Ji Mei. “Eat up.”

Ji Mei actually found the whole scene quite amusing.

Her best friend and her man bickering with each other.

“What about mine?” Su Muruo frowned.

Chen Fang served himself a bowl of rice and took his seat. “If you want to eat, serve yourself.”

Su Muruo was about to slap the table in anger when Ji Mei handed her own bowl to her. “You take mine, Chen Fang, I’d like to eat now.”

With that, she passed an empty bowl to Chen Fang.

Seeing this, Chen Fang immediately stood up. “I’ll get it for you.”

That jerk!

Infuriating!

Su Muruo seethed.

Chen Fang almost wanted to remind her not to get so worked up all the time—it wasn’t good for her health.

In truth, Chen Fang wasn’t hungry. He’d eaten plenty at Xi Yuanyuan’s place and was still full. So he just picked at his food, then spent the rest of the meal loading Ji Mei’s plate with dishes.

The atmosphere at the table was a strange one.

Chen Fang and Ji Mei flaunted their affection for each other.

Meanwhile, Su Muruo channeled her frustration into her appetite, going into “sweep mode” and eating more than half the dishes on the table.

Oh well.

Let her eat.

Chen Fang didn’t say anything. After all, he’d just taken advantage of her not long ago, and since Su Muruo’s figure was similar to Xi Yuanyuan’s—feeling about the same—she could use the extra nourishment.

At seven in the evening,

Ji Mei went out to collect a delivery.

Chen Fang began clearing the table.

Not far away, Su Muruo watched Chen Fang’s profile. This man was truly handsome. She’d been too flustered in the bathroom earlier to take a good look, but the more she stared now, the better-looking he seemed. Thinking it over, maybe she hadn’t lost out after all.

“Hey,” she called out. “I heard from Bo Niu that you sing for a living.”

Su Muruo took the initiative.

Without looking up, Chen Fang replied, “My name isn’t ‘hey’—it’s Chen Fang. And yes, I’m a singer.”

A singer sings, doesn’t he?

Su Muruo grumbled inwardly.

“Are you any good?”

“I’m alright,” Chen Fang answered modestly.

Clearly, Su Muruo hadn’t been keeping up with the internet lately.

Chen Fang had been trending several times recently; anyone paying attention would have seen his news and gossip all over.

“Sing something,” Su Muruo said, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

She’d loved singing since she was little. If she hadn’t been tone-deaf, she would have become a singer herself.

Chen Fang refused outright. “No.”

At once, Su Muruo’s face fell. For all his good looks, she felt an urge to bite him.

Chen Fang finished tidying up the table, took out the kitchen trash, and just as he returned to the villa, Ji Mei came back with her delivery. The package was large, and Chen Fang hurried to take it from her. “If you’d told me it was this big, I would have helped you.”

He’d assumed it was just some makeup or small trinket.

“It’s a gift for you,” Ji Mei said with a smile.

Chen Fang was surprised. “For me?”

Back inside, Ji Mei gestured for him to open it. Off to the side, Su Muruo looked a bit jealous. “We’ve been best friends for years and you’ve never given me a gift.”

“That’s true. You’ve always just taken things straight from me. If I didn’t know your family’s well off, I’d think you were raised in the slums. Every time you come over, my place ends up looking like it’s been looted. Last time you even made off with my rice cooker,” Ji Mei retorted.

Su Muruo had plenty of money, but when it came to inexpensive household items, she could be downright stingy.

It was true what they said:

The wealthier people are, the stingier they can be.

Su Muruo laughed sheepishly and dropped the subject.

Chen Fang opened the package to find a guitar, entirely made of metal, surprisingly heavy—at least twenty to thirty pounds. On the back was a glimmering gold signature:

Modi.

That signature seemed so familiar.

Chen Fang was sure he’d seen it somewhere before, but for a moment, he couldn’t quite remember where.