Zhou Yining slapped away Shen Yanjun’s hand and looked him in the eye.

“Dinner’s over. I’m heading back.”

Shen Yanjun chuckled softly, lifting his chin toward the car. “Hop in. I’ll take you home.”

Zhou Yining didn’t stand on ceremony. She turned neatly on her heel and slid into the front passenger seat. Shen Yanjun raised an eyebrow and got in after her.

He wasn’t familiar with the route and drove slowly with the GPS on. Zhou Yining rested her chin in her hand, gazing absentmindedly out the window.

“My dad knows you came, doesn’t he?”

“He knows,” he replied coolly.

She didn’t say another word.

When they arrived at her building, Zhou Yining opened the door. “I’m going up. Next time you’re back from a business trip, dinner’s on me.”

“Hold on—”

Shen Yanjun got out ahead of her and circled the car, blocking her path.

Leaning against the door, Zhou Yining looked up at him. “Something else?”

He tilted his head, gaze dropping to her slim stilettos. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back against the hood and exhaled a curl of smoke.

“Sprained your ankle and still wearing heels? What are you trying to prove?”

She used to be terrible at walking in heels. He still remembered those early days—tripping and twisting her ankle all the time. She’d behave for a few days, then go out and buy another pair. If he wasn’t mistaken, she started this habit around seventeen.

Zhou Yining frowned. “How do you even know I sprained it?”

He flicked the ash off his cigarette and gave a lopsided smile. “Front page of the city’s gossip column. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize you just because it was a blurry video. I saw you trip. Doesn’t look like it’s healed yet.”

She wanted to strangle whoever took that video and sold it.

“Does my dad know?”

“He does. Don’t worry, he didn’t say anything.”

Zhou Yining sidestepped him. “Alright, I’m heading up. You should get back to your hotel and rest.”

Shen Yanjun reached out and tugged at her heel lightly. “Don’t wear these tomorrow. I really don’t get who you’re trying to impress by acting tough.”

“Myself,” she said flatly. “I like them.”

She’d always believed high heels weren’t just about looking pretty—they gave her presence, an edge. Especially in front of men.

Shen Yanjun stubbed out his cigarette, stepped in front of her, and asked quietly, “You really don’t want to get engaged?”

“Nope. I don’t like you.”

If she did like him, forget engagement—she’d be willing to have his children.

But she just didn’t like him.

He suddenly reached out and ruffled her hair hard. “Heartless. Have you ever thought about all the crap you dragged me into over the years? Every mess you made, who cleaned it up? And now you ghost the engagement and leave me to deal with the fallout—did I even complain? What, I’m still not as good as that guy you met overseas? The one you didn’t even see clearly?”

Zhou Yining shoved his hand off. “Who told you I liked him?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I just want to know who he is. It’s been years. For all I know, he’s married or has a girlfriend. I’m not stupid.”

That made Shen Yanjun laugh. “Fine. Go on, then. I’ll still be around tomorrow. Let’s get dinner.”

“I have a night shoot.”

She turned and walked away.

Without hesitation.

Shen Yanjun watched her slender figure disappear into the building, a mocking smile curling his lips. He got into his car and drove off.

Zhou Yining stood outside Ji Dongyang’s door and rang the bell.

A few seconds later, it swung open. Ji Dongyang had just showered, towel in hand, hair damp and tousled. He wore all black loungewear, clean and sharp.

She held up a bottle. “Medicinal wine.”

He leaned against the doorframe and glanced at her feet. “Looks like you’ve healed.”

Right in front of him, Zhou Yining kicked off her heels and stepped barefoot onto the floor.

“Only wore them for a few hours. Feels worse now.”

She eyed the sliver of space beside the door, preparing to slip in.

But Ji Dongyang leaned in, blocking her path completely. Zhou Yining blinked up at him in confusion—without the heels, she was notably shorter, and had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Even her aura felt smaller.

“Medicinal wine, huh?” he asked lazily.

“Mm-hmm!” She nodded with extra enthusiasm.

“Wait here.”

Bang!

He shut the door in her face.

Zhou Yining: “……”

What the hell?

One minute later, the door opened again. Ji Dongyang shoved the bottle into her hands.

“You can go now.”

Zhou Yining stared at him, stunned. “You’re not gonna help me?”

Ji Dongyang chuckled. “Want my help?”

She nodded instantly. Why else would she show up here?

Bang!

He slammed the door shut again.

Zhou Yining stood frozen for a second, then smacked the door. “Ji Dongyang, you psycho! If you won’t help, fine—but what’s with the door slamming?!”

Silence from inside.

Asshole. Not a single ounce of decency in him.

She went home, soaked in the bath, and curled up on the sofa. No matter how she sat or lay, the cushions never felt quite as comfortable as his leather couch. She picked up the medicinal wine and unscrewed the cap, grimacing and plugging her nose—she didn’t want to touch the stuff.

Sighing, she recapped the bottle, grabbed the black hoodie she’d borrowed, and marched back over to his door.

Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.

Ji Dongyang opened the door with a deep frown, staring down at the girl in a robe.

Zhou Yining beamed and held out the hoodie. “Returning your shirt.”

Ji Dongyang licked his teeth and reached for the hoodie, ready to close the door, but she quickly wedged herself in, slipping around him with practiced ease.

He turned and scowled. “Zhou Yining, what the hell do you want?”

She blinked innocently, holding up the bottle like a peace offering. “Help me apply this? I suck at it.”

She tilted her face up and locked eyes with him, clearly not planning to leave until she got her way.

Ji Dongyang folded his arms. “And if I say no?”

“I’ll camp out here.”

This woman was unbelievable. Indulge her once, and she comes back again and again. He never should’ve let his guard down.

He snatched the bottle from her hands without looking back. “Come on.”

Zhou Yining grinned at his retreating figure. “Okay~”

She obediently sprawled out on the couch, arranging two cushions behind her, hugging another to her chest, and propping up her foot.

Ji Dongyang tossed her a shirt. “Put this on. Next time, don’t come here dressed like that.”

Zhou Yining glanced down at herself, then back at him, hugging the pillow tighter.

“Oh, please. You’ve already seen me worse back in the day. This is nothing.”

He looked up suddenly and gave her a lazy smirk. “You think you still look like you did at nineteen?”

It was vague, but she got it instantly.

Was that a comment about her chest?

Zhou Yining flashed a wicked grin. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Ji Dongyang scowled. Her skin was thicker than the city walls.

He stopped responding. But his hands were rough—too rough.

“Ah—” she winced. “Easy! It’s almost healed. One more press and I’ll be back to square one!”

He snorted. He’d never seen anyone this shameless.

Twenty minutes later, she was unceremoniously booted out again, the door slamming in her face.

Zhou Yining stared down at the bottle in her hand and the shirt she now wore.

Oddly… she felt kind of thrilled.

From that night on, she never gave the shirt back. Every time she dropped by, she left wearing one of his.

But that’s another story.

The next afternoon, they ran into each other on set.

They had two scenes together today—one in the afternoon, one at night. As the male lead, Ji Dongyang was constantly busy, often shooting from dawn till dusk.

Zhou Yining arrived around noon. The crew was handing out boxed lunches as she walked into Ji Dongyang’s dressing room with a bag of takeout.

Amin greeted her with a grin. “Miss Zhou.”

“Where’s Ji Dongyang?”

“He’s eating with Director Xu and Sister Zhou Wei. The director’s giving them some notes.”

Zhou Yining pouted. “Figures.”

She set the takeout on the table and waved Amin over.

“Come eat. I brought too much, it’ll go to waste.”

Amin eyed the dishes hungrily. “You sure you’re not here to eat with Dong-ge?”

She popped a piece of spare rib in her mouth. “I am. Wanted to thank him for something. But eating together would draw too much attention—someone might take  a pic.”

Too risky. She shook her head. “He missed out. Your gain.”

Amin didn’t need convincing. He dragged a chair over and dug in.

“By the way, I saw that video from last time. Dong-ge said it was karate—did you learn that?”

Zhou Yining raised a brow. “He said that?”

Amin nodded. “Yeah, he said he could tell.”

She nodded slowly. “I did.”

She never wanted to be helpless again. Relying on others was too dangerous. Better to rely on herself.

Ji Dongyang didn’t return. After lunch, Zhou Yining went to change and get her makeup done.

Their next scene was coming up.

When she arrived on set, the male and female leads were still in the middle of a dramatic exchange. Their chemistry lit up the screen—two acting powerhouses going toe-to-toe. Director Xu was practically glowing.

“Cut! Good! Zhou Yining, you’re up next!”

Zhou Yining: “……”

Great. Now I’ve got to follow that up. The bar’s sky-high.

“Zhou Yining, Dongyang—come here a sec.”

She gathered her skirt and walked over. Ji Dongyang was standing directly across from her. Their eyes met.

She raised an eyebrow at him. He glanced away coolly.

Zhou Yining scrunched her nose. She couldn’t stand that icy look of his.