Her eyes were too bright.

Ever since she’d twisted her ankle, the way she treated him had shifted. Still proud as a peacock in front of others, quick to turn cold when displeased—but when it was just the two of them, she let down her guard.

Ji Dongyang had clawed his way to the top of the entertainment industry. Neither his EQ nor IQ was anything to scoff at. After that crying scene, when she’d revealed her vulnerability in front of him, he’d figured she now saw him as someone she could lean on. She’d shown him a side she kept hidden from the world. So maybe… she didn’t feel the need to pretend around him anymore.

But then, now and then, she’d flirt with him—just a little. So what did she want?

Ji Dongyang looked away.
“Don’t go drinking at a man’s place again.”

Zhou Yining blinked.
“I went to your place.”

Ji Dongyang turned his back to her, keyed in the password, and pushed the door open.
“I’m still a man.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Zhou Yining stood there in stunned silence.

Did he just shut her out?

She hadn’t done anything, hadn’t said a word, and yet he was already brushing her off?

No, that wasn’t right! She hadn’t even said anything yet!
How dare he be so arrogant!

She stomped her foot.
What an insufferable bastard!

Ji Dongyang stepped out of the shower, towel-drying his hair as he walked out of the bathroom. His phone screen lit up—he picked it up and tapped open WeChat.

Little Witch: 🙂

Ji Dongyang: “…”

A wry smile tugged at his lips. He tossed the phone aside, about to turn away, when his eyes landed on the table—two bottles of liquor.

Well, one and a half.

She’d polished off half a bottle last night.

A note was tucked beneath the other.

His fingers stilled. He stepped closer, sat down on the sofa.

The note was from A-Ming. The man had a surprising soft streak—whenever he and Yang Xun came over and found Ji Dongyang asleep, they never disturbed him. Just left a note.

Normally, Dongyang would read it and toss it straight into the trash.

He moved the bottle aside and picked up the note. The handwriting was delicate but pressed hard into the paper.

“When you’re in a bad mood, drink. It helps.”

Ji Dongyang’s gaze sharpened.

How did she know he wasn’t in a good mood?

So… last night she came over just to drink with him?

It had been years since Ji Dongyang used alcohol to drown his sorrows. Aside from the occasional dinner party, he never drank alone. Booze dulled the nerves, but when the buzz faded, nothing changed. It was just running from reality.

He stared at the one and a half bottles on the table and thought of her clear, piercing eyes.

An odd restlessness welled up inside him.

He fished a cigarette from the coffee table, lit it, took a few drags, then stubbed it out halfway and tossed it into the trash.

Then he got up and went to bed.

—

The next morning, Ji Dongyang was waiting for the elevator when the sound of heels echoed behind him.

The doors slid open. He stepped inside, turned to face out.

Zhou Yining walked in behind him, not sparing him a glance.

Red crop top, slim waist bare just above tight jeans, black jacket, high heels clicking against the floor. Compared to yesterday’s look, she seemed older, cooler. The air around her had shifted.

She shoved her hands in her pockets and stared straight ahead.

Ji Dongyang stood behind her, tall as ever. He glanced down at her back, lips parting as if to say something, then thought better of it.

The moment the doors opened, she strode out.

A-Ming was leaning against the car, eyes widening as she passed by.

Damn. This aura? She wasn’t playing around today.

But before he could say anything, an even stronger presence approached from behind.

Ji Dongyang, face blank, slid into the car.

A-Ming was still watching the Little Witch walk off.
She looked even better today.

As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he glanced back and saw Zhou Yining’s SUV pull away.

He clicked his tongue.
“She doesn’t look like she’s in a good mood today.”

No reply.

Usually, Dong-ge would at least grunt or say something. A-Ming turned his head—Ji Dongyang was leaning against the window, eyes closed, expression unreadable.

Then he cracked an eye open.
“Are you planning to drive today or just sit there?”

A-Ming fumbled for his seatbelt.
“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Yeah… Dong-ge didn’t seem too cheerful either.

Then again, with all that family drama—years of it—who wouldn’t be pissed off? Ji Dongyang’s cold personality didn’t come from nowhere. If it were him, he’d have gone insane by now.

Hell, even Yang-ge was running around cleaning up the mess these days.

Time was tight. A-Ming stepped on the gas and managed to catch up to Zhou Yining’s car.

The two vehicles reached the set one after the other.

Zhou Yining was about to walk off when A-Ming called her name.

She turned.

He smiled.
“Your custom eye mask is ready. Almost forgot—the shop called me about it. I grabbed it for you yesterday.”

It had been so long, she’d nearly forgotten.

She’d been borrowing Ji Dongyang’s eye mask, tying the strap in a knot to make it fit. Not that she used one often—only when napping at the set.

A-Ming was about to go fetch it when he noticed Ji Dongyang stepping out of the car, box in hand.

He handed it to her.

Zhou Yining gave him a quick look, took it, and turned to A-Ming with a grin.
“Thanks. I’ll treat you to takeout next time.”

A-Ming grinned right back.
“Looking forward to it.”

She walked off, brisk and efficient.

Ji Dongyang glanced sideways.
“When’s she ever treated you to takeout before?”

A-Ming scratched his head.
“Ah—that time she got mugged and we gave her a ride? She brought food to the lounge later and said she was thanking you. But you were eating with Director Xu and Wei-jie, so she ended up giving it to me instead.”

Ji Dongyang’s lips twitched.
She was probably thanking the chauffeur, not him.

A-Ming remembered something.
“By the way, did she come over to drink with you last night?”

Ji Dongyang walked toward the set.
“No.”

—

Back in the makeup trailer, Zhou Yining set the box on the table. Before makeup started, she popped the lid and gave it a quick count—at least seventy or eighty inside.

Seriously? That many? She could use them for the rest of her life.

A-Ming hadn’t said who they were for, but the shop had made them based on Ji Dongyang’s specs—one box, eighty pieces.

The makeup artist caught a glimpse and raised a brow.
“That looks familiar. Same one Dong-ge uses, right?”

Zhou Yining thought of Ji Dongyang’s cold, distant face and felt her temper spike. She slammed the lid shut.
“Not the same. Mine’s smaller.”

The makeup artist chuckled.
“Yeah, way smaller. But the same design. Like… couple items.”

Couple items?

If she and Ji Dongyang were a couple, that’d be front-page news.

She smirked.
“You think we look like a couple?”

The makeup artist tilted her head, thinking it over.
“You two have known each other for a while now. But honestly? Not really. There’s a ten-year age gap, right? He and Wei-jie look more like a match.”

She loved both Zhou Wei and Ji Dongyang as actors. They gave off serious CP vibes. If only they’d end up together in real life…

Zhou Yining leaned back in her chair, voice cool.
“Please. Old men and young wives’ romances are common enough in showbiz.”

The artist shot back,
“He’s only 33! That’s not ‘old’! Not like he’s 43!”

“You’re saying we don’t look like a couple—why?”

The artist dabbed powder onto her face as she mused aloud.
“Your personalities don’t match. He’s too cold, and you’re… fiery. I don’t think he’s your type. It just feels like you’d clash.”

Zhou Yining smiled faintly.
Ice and fire, huh? You don’t get it.

“Like my friend—her boyfriend’s super reserved, she’s super lively. It worked at first, but over time, she just couldn’t take the emotional chill. I mean… not that I’m saying Dong-ge’s coldness is a problem! Even if he’s an ice block, tons of women still adore him. With that face, that talent, and that money? He’s the full package!”

Ji Dongyang had fans everywhere.

Zhou Yining closed her eyes.
“People act cold when they don’t love enough.”

Love—at its purest—is a beautiful thing.
If someone hurts you, it’s not because they’re not good enough.
It’s because they don’t love you enough.

—

In the next few days, Zhou Yining had barely any scenes. No shared scenes with Ji Dongyang either.

She spent her evenings crashing at the Qin house, mooching meals, and playing mahjong with her aunt. When it got too late, she’d just stay the night.

Ji Dongyang, meanwhile, enjoyed the peace. But every time his eyes landed on that one and a half bottles of wine still sitting on the table, his brow twitched.

Eventually, he shoved them back in the cabinet.
Out of sight, out of mind.

The quiet didn’t last. Their next scene together was a night shoot.

The emperor had begun to suspect Consort Ning’s true colors. She was falling out of favor, plagued by fear. Desperate, she lured him to her chambers one last time.

Zhou Yining felt a strange tension before filming began.

Director Xu called out,
“Zhou Yining—when you hug Ji Dongyang later, go all in. Desperate. Throw away all of Consort Ning’s pride.”

Zhou Yining nodded.
“…Got it.”

The clapperboard snapped. All eyes turned to them.

Just as the emperor turned to leave, Consort Ning threw herself forward, clutching him tightly, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Your Majesty…”

The emperor’s voice was cold.
“Let go.”

She held on tighter.

He gripped her shoulders, trying to push her off.

Ji Dongyang gave a push, then frowned.

Director Xu:
“Cut! Their accessories are tangled. Untangle them and reset.”

Both were wearing traditional adornments—his a jade pendant, hers gold and silver.

They’d gotten too close. Now the cords were entwined.

Zhou Yining looked down, tried to untangle them herself.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

Her delicate brows furrowed, slim fingers fumbling as the knot only grew tighter.

She looked up at him, eyes bright with frustration.

Ji Dongyang pressed his lips together.
“A-Ming—lighter.”

A crew member handed it over.

Ji Dongyang reached for her hand, voice low.
“I’ll do it.”