When Rong Yu returned to Hibiscus Manor, there was a guest waiting at home.
It was Tang Che.
"Ah Yu," he said with a gentle, scholarly smile etched into his wrinkled face. "You’re still the same as ever, working so hard."
As he began to rise from his seat, Rong Yu rushed forward and pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Don’t strain yourself."
"My health has improved," Tang Che replied, reaching for a scroll from Butler Tang. "I’ve been feeling particularly well these past few days, so I took the time to paint this. Ah Yu, tell me—does it still hold up to my old standards?"
Rong Yu unrolled the scroll.
And froze.
The painting depicted her in the costume from her last stage performance, but the girl’s face wasn’t her current appearance—it was how she had looked seventy years ago.
After all these years, Tang Che still remembered the tiny mole by her ear.
So, he had never truly let go.
"Wow, Uncle Tang, this is amazing!" Old Master Ji exclaimed, breaking the strange tension. He snatched the scroll from Rong Yu’s hands, admiring it with undisguised delight. "Mom, can I hang this in my room?"
Rong Yu glanced at Tang Che. "What do you think?"
Tang Che’s smile remained warm. "Of course."
He paused, then added, "Ah Yu, for your performance tomorrow… may I come watch?"
"No!" Rong Yu refused outright. "Even Yingbao going at his age makes me nervous. Don’t test my heart’s endurance."
Seemingly expecting her answer, Tang Che replied calmly, "Then at least let me escort you there?"
Rong Yu sighed.
This was giving her a headache.
Yingbao causing mischief was one thing—after all, at over seventy, he still had some energy to spare.
But Tang Che…
"Ah Yu, if you don’t grant me this chance, there may never be another."
His silver hair framed aged eyes that gazed steadily at her.
Rong Yu’s heart softened completely.
What else could she do but nod in agreement?
The next morning, she had barely woken up when she heard Tang Che’s voice downstairs.
"Yingbao, what’s a fan club? Can I join?"
"Yingbao, how do you bring up these emojis? Show me."
"Yingbao, what does ‘melon-eating crowd’ mean…?"
When Rong Yu descended the stairs, she found the two elderly men—one a hundred years old, the other in his seventies—huddled together, their white heads bent over a device they couldn’t quite figure out.
Old Master Ji called out loudly, "Duoduo, come here! We got logged out—how do we get back in?"
Despite her young age, Duoduo was quick to learn. She tapped the screen. "Like this, then this… and this. Bookmark the page so you can open it directly next time."
Old Master Ji finally understood. "Ah, Duoduo, you’re so clever!"
Duoduo beamed, her eyes crinkling into crescents.
Rong Yu stepped forward. "Yingbao, you’re staying home today. Read a book."
"Uh…" Old Master Ji avoided her gaze, focusing on his steamed bun. "I will. Definitely finishing a whole book."
Where he read it, of course, was up to him.
Rong Yu flicked his forehead.
Even at seventy, he was still the same mischievous boy who’d sneak out to play behind her back.
She shook her head. "Yuan, assign more people to keep an eye on him."
After breakfast, Rong Yu rode in the Tang family’s car to Ji's Entertainment. Tang Che had deliberately chosen an understated vehicle, driving straight to the recording hall entrance.
As she stepped out, he watched her with a radiant smile. "Ah Yu, being able to escort you once… it erases my greatest regret."
He would never forget the year she left to study abroad. He was supposed to see her off at the dock.
But political upheaval had robbed him of that chance.
And from then on, she met that man, while he quietly faded from her life…
Rong Yu pressed her lips together. "We agreed to watch the snow together. You’d better live until winter."
Tang Che nodded gently. "Don’t worry. My will to live is strong."
Before, childless and alone, he had wished for an early departure from this world.
But now, things were different.
Rong Yu stepped onto the red carpet, the cameras capturing her as the live broadcast began.
Hundreds of fans had already gathered, their cheers rising in waves as they chanted their favorites’ names.
Just as Rong Yu finished signing and turned toward the hall, she caught sight of familiar figures in the crowd.
Yingbao and Duoduo were one thing—but why were Hai Dadun and Sima Gang here too?
The three old men and one child, all masked, moved furtively among the spectators.
Even disguised, their advanced age was obvious. The younger fans, wary of accidental collisions, gave them a wide berth.
Hai Dadun frowned. "Why do they scatter when we arrive?"
Sima Gang mused, "Maybe it’s our ‘old people smell’?"
Duoduo giggled. "No, silly! They’re scared of knocking you over and having to pay lots of money."
Old Master Ji raised a light board. "Repeat after me."
He cleared his throat. "Rong Yu! Rong Yu!"
Hai Dadun wiped his face. "I can’t. I just can’t. If anyone finds out the chairman of Hai Corporation is here fanboying, my reputation will sink to the Atlantic."
Old Master Ji adjusted his mask. "You teamed up with Rong Wangtian for Rong Yu’s sake, but you won’t cheer for her? No one will recognize us like this!"
"Grandpa, is that you?"
The class monitor of Class 20 had spotted Old Master Ji and Duoduo from afar. She remembered them clearly—they were Rong Yu’s fans, and they’d even shared a meal after the last performance.
Old Master Ji groaned. How did she recognize us?
The group leader leaned in. "Your light board looks way fancier than ours!"
Old Master Ji grinned. "Heh heh!"
Of course it was fancy—it had cost him a good chunk of his savings.
The class president frowned.
Last episode, Old Master Ji, chairman of Ji Group, had appeared on screen because of He Qiqi. And now, this masked grandpa looked awfully similar…
But with the mask, he couldn’t be sure.
The monitor turned to the other two elders. "Are you also fans of Rong Yu?"
Hai Dadun and Sima Gang hesitated. They weren’t fans—Old Master Ji had dragged them here to "experience Rong Yu’s brilliance."
"Of course they are!" the monitor answered for them. "Rong Yu’s a genius. She must have tons of mom and grandpa fans."
Ji Zhouye, also in the crowd, cut in. "Enough talk. Start chanting before we’re drowned out!"
"Rong Yu! Rong Yu! Our light never fades!"
"Rong Yu! Rong Yu! Our light never fades!"
The young people were full of vigor, their voices united as one class, so loud and synchronized that even the passing mosquitoes were startled away.
Old Master Ji joined in the chanting.
Old Master Hai glanced to the left.
Old Master Sima looked to the right.
The crowd’s enthusiasm was electrifying, making them stand out awkwardly—until, inexplicably, they opened their mouths too, transforming from mere bystanders into fervent fans…
