When Ji Dongyang stepped through the front door, Yang Xun glanced once more at the apartment across the hall, muttering under his breath, “That place’s been empty for years. Now someone suddenly moves in—and it’s Zhou Yining of all people? Don’t tell me this is one of Wan Wei’s tricks.”

They were all part of the same talent agency. Using Ji Dongyang to stir up buzz for Zhou Yining? That kind of stunt reeked of Wan Wei. Very on brand for her.

Ji Dongyang cracked open a bottle of mineral water, took a few swigs, and replied coolly, “Just a coincidence.”

But Yang Xun pressed on. “Be careful. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you two coming out of the same building. If they run with a cohabitation story, good luck explaining that one.”

Ji Dongyang sank into the sofa, calm as ever. “Relax. She’ll go out of her way to avoid me.”

Yang Xun had heard the rumors—Zhou Yining and Ji Dongyang didn’t get along. But he’d been too busy lately, and on his last visit to set, he hadn’t seen them shoot any scenes together. He still didn’t know the full story. The only thing he knew was that Zhou Yining was the first actress he’d ever seen who didn’t try to cozy up to Ji Dongyang. Every other woman in the business practically threw themselves at him.

They wrapped up their work talk as dusk settled outside. Yang Xun picked up his phone. “I’ll order you some food before I go.”

Ji Dongyang stood. “No need. There are dumplings in the fridge.”

Yang Xun frowned. “Would it kill you to take care of your stomach? If you end up with another ulcer and delay filming, we’ll miss deadlines…”

Ring ring.

His phone cut him off. As he stepped aside to take the call, Ji Dongyang was already in the kitchen, pulling out a box of frozen dumplings.

Yang Xun had urgent business and didn’t have time to argue. He called toward the kitchen, “I’m heading out.”

Ji Dongyang, one hand in his pocket, stared into the pot as the water boiled, waving absently behind him.

As the elevator doors slid open, Yang Xun looked up—and spotted Zhou Yining stepping out. She carried a classy takeout bag from a high-end restaurant, along with a few boxes of imported fruit. The image of Ji Dongyang boiling dumplings flashed in Yang Xun’s mind, and he couldn’t help muttering, “Now that’s the life.”

Zhou Yining gave him a puzzled glance, not understanding the comment. The fruits were from a pricey new shop that had just opened downstairs—expensive, but fresh. In this building, everyone was either rich or connected. No one blinked at a premium price tag.

She opened the bag and offered politely, “Would you like some fruit?”

Yang Xun laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, but no.”

As she pulled the bag back, he said casually, “How about you bring some to Ji Dongyang?”

Zhou Yining: “……”

Why the hell would she bring him fruit? If he wanted fruit, couldn’t he go buy his own?

Yang Xun chuckled. “He rarely shops. Gets recognized too easily. If his address leaks, the press’ll camp outside twenty-four-seven.”

A veiled warning—living in the same building meant she could get caught in the crosshairs just as easily.

Zhou Yining caught his drift instantly. She flashed a mocking smile. “Sure. We are ‘neighbors’, after all. Gotta look out for each other.”

Yang Xun’s expression stiffened. He hadn’t expected her to flip the script like that. Neighbors helping each other?

Zhou Yining saw his face twist and felt a flicker of satisfaction. She smiled sweetly. “I’ll head in now. See you, Brother Yang.”

Back home, she took the fruit to the kitchen, peeled and sliced it, and arranged it onto two plates.

Ji Dongyang was halfway through his dumplings when the doorbell rang. Thinking Yang Xun had come back, he set down his chopsticks and went to answer it.

He opened the door—and froze for a moment.

His gaze dropped to the plate of fruit in her hands. His dark eyes were quiet, like a still pond, staring at her.

What’s this supposed to mean?

Zhou Yining raised the fruit plate slightly and smiled. “For you. Your agent said neighbors should take care of each other.”

Her smile was lovely, eyes narrowing into lazy crescents like a cat basking in the sun. A faint dimple curved at the corner of her lips. Seeing Ji Dongyang frown, she just smiled again and slipped past him with a fluid grace. “Don’t worry. It’s not poisoned.”

 Too bad. By the time he regained his senses, Zhou Yining was already in the middle of his living room.

She had planned to drop off the fruit and leave—but when she reached the dining table, she noticed the nearly empty plate of plain dumplings, with no dipping sauce in sight. She turned back toward him. “This is all you’re eating?”

Ji Dongyang gave a quiet “mm” and walked past her to sit back down, picking up his chopsticks again.

Zhou Yining raised an eyebrow and set the fruit down. “Alright then. Enjoy your sad little dumplings.”

She turned to leave—but as she passed the white leather sofa in the living room, she hesitated for a beat. She liked his couch.

Bang! The front door shut behind her.

Back in her apartment, Zhou Yining sat down with her luxury takeout. As she ate, she thought of Ji Dongyang’s plain dumplings and let out a soft laugh.

The great movie king lives like a monk.

Across the hall, Ji Dongyang finished washing the dishes. He glanced at the colorful fruit still sitting on the table, picked up a piece, and took a bite.

Sweet.

He finished the whole plate while reading through his script.

The National Day holiday arrived.

The crowd outside the studio had tripled. Several film crews were working in the film city, and fans were scrambling for a glimpse of their idols. The Taiping Dynasty had been closed off to visitors since filming began—even the media had been kept out.

It took Zhou Yining forever to get through security and drive in.

She rushed to the dressing room, changed into her costume, and sat down for makeup.

“Too many fans lately. Li Zheng from Xincheng’s new film Power Plays is launching on October 1st. He just beat out Dong-ge for Best Actor this year, so the media’s eating it up. Their set doesn’t even have barricades—paparazzi and fans sneak in all the time now.”

“Yeah, even our behind-the-scenes stills have leaked.”

“Li Zheng’s fans are crazy. This morning, their screaming was nonstop. But seriously, is he really better-looking than Dong-ge? Ji Dongyang has presence.”

“No comparison, really…”

The two makeup artists gossiped as they worked. Zhou Yining listened lazily, eyes closed.

When they finally paused, one of them said, “We’re using waterproof makeup today—it’ll be a pain to remove later.”

Zhou Yining nodded. “Got it.”

Tonight’s scene was scheduled for 7 p.m.—a dramatic setup. She had to fall into the water.

A classic palace drama—Women vying for the Emperor’s favor. Consort Ning, once indifferent to court struggles, had turned into the most ruthless of them all. In front of the Emperor, she was soft and gentle. Behind his back—calculating and cruel. From petty schemes to silencing rivals permanently, she’d done it all.

It was a layered role, a challenge for a newcomer like Zhou Yining.

Her acting was wildly inconsistent—great one day, off the next. Director Xu was at his wits’ end. She’d nailed it a few days ago, and now she was falling apart again.

In the scene, Consort Ning confronted her rival, Consort Ru, on a narrow bridge above the lake.

Her maid whispered in her ear, “His Majesty seems to be heading this way.”

Ning’s expression didn’t change. She smiled at Ru. “Sister, no offense, but that outfit… purple’s His Majesty’s least favorite color.”

Ru’s maid panicked. “My lady, the Emperor is coming!”

Consort Ning saw the eunuch by the Emperor’s side draw closer. Still smiling, she said, “Sister, I know His Majesty’s tastes better than anyone. Shall I give you a tip or two?”

Ru hesitated, half-believing, half-doubting—and stepped closer.

In that instant, Consort Ning grabbed her hand and leaned back—

Splash!

She plunged into the lake like a falling petal.

Chaos.

She was pulled from the water, dripping and shivering. The Emperor arrived just in time, brows furrowed, staring at her soaked figure. He bent down, scooped her up, and their bodies pressed close. Her wet robes seeped through to his chest.

“Cut!” Director Xu called. “Nice one, Yining! Hold that state. Dongyang, you’re up!”

Tall, regal, Ji Dongyang stepped into frame as the Emperor. He looked down at the shivering Consort Ning, brow tightly knit, and lifted her into his arms. “Summon the Imperial Physician!”

Consort Ning raised her trembling hands, resting them on his shoulders. Her phoenix eyes glistened as she whispered, “Your Majesty…”

Director Xu frowned. Her expression was all wrong.

“Cut! Zhou Yining, do you even know how to look pitiful? Where are your tears? Your eyes should be brimming!”

Ji Dongyang set her down. A gentle breeze passed—Zhou Yining shivered.

“I can do it again,” she said through chattering teeth.

The Queen of NGs had returned.

“Cut! Zhou Yining, your hand! Hold onto his neck!”

“Cut! Still no tears! You’ve got crying scenes coming up—can you cry or not?!”

“Makeup! Touch her up!”

One hour later, soaked and trembling, Zhou Yining was reaching her limit.

Ji Dongyang looked down at her, then turned to Xu. “Director, give me a few minutes.”

Xu waved him off. “Ten minutes!”

She always botched the emotional scenes with Ji Dongyang. If he didn’t know better, Xu would’ve thought she was just trying to take advantage of him.

They stepped under the awning. Someone handed Zhou Yining a towel. She wiped her face, then wrapped it tightly around her.

Ji Dongyang was about to speak when she looked up.

“Later, pinch me. Hard. Right here on the waist. It hurts like hell. I’ll cry for sure.”

She hadn’t cried in so long—not even when she was heartbroken. But now, in a damn drama, she needed to.

Ji Dongyang frowned. He’d never heard of an actress asking to be pinched just to shed tears.

She added seriously, “Don’t go easy on me.”

At this rate, she was going to catch a cold.

Ji Dongyang suddenly laughed. “If you insist.”

“…Just don’t overdo it.”

Back on set—take ten.

He picked her up again, holding that imperial grimace.

His fingers tightened at her waist.

Hard.

Her expression changed in an instant. Her body curled toward his neck, eyes stinging from pain. She almost bit him.

“It hurts like hell! Ji Dongyang, do you hate me or something?!”

Ji Dongyang: “……”

No one noticed their exchange. The whole crew was stunned.

Even Director Xu froze.

“…Cut, cut, CUT! Zhou Yining, what the hell was that?!”