The days of cooking, spending money, and unpacking packages had barely passed when, under repeated invitations from several top designers, Zhong Ziyan finally left City H to visit Cloudrealm Island for an inspection.
Before her departure, she sought her boss’s opinion. Wei Hanyun, claiming to be busy lately, arranged for Wei Hanyan to accompany her instead.
Wei Hanyan arrived in high spirits from the capital via private jet, lugging along four enormous suitcases. Had it not been a private flight, Zhong Ziyan suspected even checking them in would have been a hassle.
At the airport, Zhong Ziyan opened the car door and gestured for Wei Hanyan to get in. "The island isn’t very big, but the beach ratings are decent. I’ve never been—might be a bit of a wilderness."
"Like the Amazon rainforest?"
Zhong Ziyan thought back to a few disaster-themed scenarios she’d experienced. "Probably not that extreme. I’ll protect you."
Wei Hanyan blushed, clasping her hands over her heart. "Yes, Auntie."
Just as Zhong Ziyan was about to get into the car, her phone chimed.
She settled into her seat and glanced at the newly arrived message, then fell silent for a moment.
"What’s wrong, Auntie?" Wei Hanyan gently poked her.
"Someone somehow got hold of my contact details," Zhong Ziyan mused. She decided not to reply, exiting the message app and setting her phone aside.
Though the number was unfamiliar, the sender had introduced herself as Shen Beibei.
Zhong Ziyan only needed to read the opening line to recognize who it was without scanning the lengthy reminiscence that followed.
It was the "female lead," after all.
But the question was—how had Shen Beibei obtained her phone number, which had fewer than ten contacts? And why go out of her way to send such a long message?
Zhong Ziyan, who disliked reading, frowned her way through the text. First, Shen Beibei briefly recounted the incident at the banquet to identify herself, followed by a 200-word apology essay. Then came inquiries about Zhong Ziyan’s well-being and whether her dress had been damaged, concluding with an offer to compensate from her recent part-time earnings.
Truthfully, Zhong Ziyan had no idea how much that evening gown had cost. She only knew it had vanished after being changed out of.
She suspected everyone in the Wei residence wore clothes once before discarding them outright—there probably wasn’t even a laundry room.
Shen Beibei’s message was well-structured, politely worded, and even neatly paragraphed for clarity. Her attitude couldn’t be faulted.
Yet Zhong Ziyan couldn’t fathom her motive.
If she were working part-time as a banquet server and accidentally spilled drinks on a VIP guest who then waived accountability and compensation…
"Thanks, goodbye!" would be her immediate reaction.
Normally, Zhong Ziyan would turn to Wei Hanyun for guidance on such intricate social matters. But since this involved Shen Beibei, she hesitated.
Wei Hanyan beside her wasn’t the best confidante either.
So, during their layover, Zhong Ziyan deliberated and finally settled on bothering the social expert—Assistant Fang.
The homeroom teacher sighed upon answering. "What is it, Madam?"
"Don’t tell Wei Hanyun," Zhong Ziyan said, eyeing junk snacks in a vending machine. "I need your advice on something."
Fang Nan remained noncommittal. "Go ahead."
Zhong Ziyan: "Are you planning to agree now but double-cross me later? Swear it, or I’ll ask Li Ye instead."
Fang Nan: "…" Li Ye’s lips were harder to pry open. Better to concede. "I swear I won’t proactively inform the boss."
"Remember that girl who knocked over a glass at the Wei family banquet? She—hold on, let me pay first." Zhong Ziyan selected a pack of Brazilian BBQ chips.
Faint beeping sounds and the rustle of a falling plastic bag came through the receiver.
Two seconds later, the bag was torn open with a crisp crinkle.
"Anyway, she just texted me," Zhong Ziyan resumed.
Fang Nan’s attention briefly derailed. "Madam, did you just buy snacks from a vending machine?"
"…" Zhong Ziyan paused. "Wei Hanyun buys me roasted sweet potatoes. Can’t I get chips?"
"…Fair enough."
"Her name’s Shen Beibei. I’m sending you a screenshot." Zhong Ziyan forwarded it one-handed.
Fang Nan stayed silent for a good ten seconds before asking, "Would you like me to… handle her for you?"
Zhong Ziyan: "…" Why do you and Yu Qianshan, respectable businessmen, sound like mobsters? "I want to know what she’s after. Why write all that?"
After a pause, Fang Nan couldn’t bring himself to call it a pickup line. Carefully phrasing, he stated, "Perhaps a pure-hearted college student’s part-time diary. Too busy working to make friends, so she vents to strangers as stress relief."
Zhong Ziyan had an epiphany. "Should I comfort her?"
"Unnecessary. For such personalities, voicing their thoughts is relief enough—they don’t expect replies. In fact, your response might stress her out," Fang Nan improvised smoothly. "If she messages again and you’re unsure how to reply, consult me."
Fang Nan found Zhong Ziyan unpredictably gullible—sometimes sharp, other times easily fooled.
Like now, munching chips, she bought his absurd explanation outright. "Got it. Bye."
"Enjoy your vacation." Fang Nan waited politely for her to hang up, then headed to Wei Hanyun’s desk.
Wei Hanyun didn’t look up, but Fang Nan knew this meant spit it out.
Clearing his throat, Fang Nan set his unlocked phone on the desk and deadpanned, "Ah, forgot a file. Be right back."
Wei Hanyun: "…" He glanced up at the unusually behaving Fang Nan, who had already walked off, leaving his phone behind.
The screen displayed Zhong Ziyan’s screenshot in plain view.
Fang Nan soon returned, convincingly "discovering" his "accidentally left" phone and pocketing it with faux innocence.
—This didn’t count as proactively telling. He’d merely forgotten his phone.
Wei Hanyun accepted the file, then called Wei Hanyan without shifting his gaze from the computer.
"Huh, Uncle?" Wei Hanyan answered, sipping a slushie pre-vacation. "What’s up?"
"Find a chance to take Ziyan’s phone," Wei Hanyun said calmly. "Block a number for her—no need to mention it."
Wei Hanyan nearly choked. "Cough—Uncle, is everything okay?"
"Spam messages. She’s not good at handling them."
"Oh, I got it!" Wei Hanyan immediately straightened up, ready to take on the task. "I’ll handle it well and won’t let Auntie Zhong worry!"
"Be careful and take good care of her," Wei Hanyun added with concern.
Wei Hanyan naturally positioned herself as the protector. "Don’t worry, Uncle Wei. I’ll bring Auntie Zhong back without a single hair out of place!"
She patted the sunscreen in her bag—vowing to protect Auntie Zhong’s breathtaking beauty at all costs!
The call ended, and shortly after, Zhong Ziyan returned with a bag of chips. "You sure you don’t want any?"
Wei Hanyan, who even drank sugar-free slushies, looked at the chips with envy. "I’ll just smell them—oh, Auntie Zhong, do you have photos from the last time we baked sweet potatoes? Can I see?"
Zhong Ziyan handed over her phone without hesitation.
Wei Hanyan pressed the lock button and was stunned—no passcode? Talk about old-school phone security.
As she opened the photo album, she glanced sideways at Zhong Ziyan, who was completely absorbed in eating the chips as if they were gourmet delicacies.
Wei Hanyan silently vowed to spoil her auntie with the finest food the moment they arrived on the island.
I, Wei Hanyan, would rather starve or jump off this island than let my precious dragon go hungry!
Since only Zhong Ziyan and Wei Hanyan were traveling to Cloud Island, the overprotective elders had arranged an entire entourage to accompany them—so large that they had to charter a separate plane.
Multiple designer teams, chefs, bodyguards, cleaners, doctors, and other professionals filled most of the seats on the second plane.
At least we won’t run out of gourmet food, Wei Hanyan thought.
Meanwhile, with lightning speed, she opened Zhong Ziyan’s messages, skimmed through the nearly empty inbox, and clicked on an unfamiliar number. Her brows furrowed as she read.
Coming from a privileged background, Wei Hanyan had seen all kinds of sycophantic tactics before. She recognized the thinly veiled intentions behind the messages from this so-called "innocent college girl."
But why target Wei Hanyun? And worse—why drag Zhong Ziyan into it?
Wei Hanyan memorized the number in a flash, swiftly blocked Shen Beibei, and exited the messages, pretending to browse the photo album instead.
But after flipping through a few pages, she realized something was off.
Zhong Ziyan’s photo collection was shockingly sparse—not a single selfie in sight.
"What a waste…" Wei Hanyan clutched her chest in despair. She returned the phone to Zhong Ziyan, who remained oblivious, then immediately called the travel concierge. "I need a full photography team on standby—now!"
