“Thank you, Director, I understand.” Lin Yizhou wore a gentle smile on his face.
But deep down, he knew exactly who was behind this.
His half-brother, Song Hanzheng.
He remembered the phone call last night, hearing Jiang Liuyue’s soft, coquettish voice from the other end of the line—a voice laced with the lingering whispers of passion and a tantalizing tone that drew out every syllable.
Each word carved a wound into his heart.
He had stood by the window, phone in hand, looking out at the city lights shimmering in the distance, while inside, it was just him in the darkness.
He hadn’t closed his eyes all night.
His mind replayed that voice over and over, endlessly imagining what was happening on the other end of the call.
The more he thought, the more awake he became; the more he thought, the more suffocated he felt.
He had assumed Song Hanzheng was just talking, never expecting him to cut his business trip short and rush back at the last minute.
For Jiang Liuyue, he had abandoned his project, leaving it in the hands of his subordinates, and taken the earliest flight home overnight.
This wasn’t the Song Hanzheng he knew.
“By the way, Director, the lead actress isn’t here today?” Lin Yizhou’s tone seemed casual, his gaze drifting lazily across the empty dressing room.
Director Daqing chuckled, took a sip of coffee, and replied lightly.
“Yeah, she called me to take the day off. Said she didn’t sleep well last night and might have caught a chill.”
“You know how it is with young people today—always staying up late, ruining their health. At such a young age, they don’t know how to take care of themselves…”
Lin Yizhou didn’t catch a single word after that.
The moment he stepped out of the studio, the sunlight poured down on him without mercy, making him squint. His phone screen lit up.
It was a call from Li Feile.
He paused, then tapped the answer button, his voice calm and steady.
No ripples.
“Feile,” he said.
Li Feile’s voice was sharp and gritted with anger.
“Yizhou, I’ve made up my mind. I’m willing to help you!”
Lin Yizhou froze mid-step, stopping on the staircase.
Cautious, he spoke slowly: “Feile, what do you mean?”
Li Feile’s voice turned cold.
“Uncle Song has been torn about who should take over, hasn’t he? Now I’ll back you. I’ll help you.”
“Why?” A flicker of wariness passed through Lin Yizhou’s eyes.
He knew Li Feile too well. She never did anything without a purpose. She never offered favors for no reason.
Li Feile gave a cold laugh, her tone laced with barely concealed fury.
“Why? I thought they were just fooling around. I thought Jiang Liuyue was just a toy. But Hanzheng brother actually wants to marry her.”
“Since that’s the case, don’t blame me for playing dirty!”
But that was only part of it.
There was something else that angered her even more, something she hadn’t mentioned on the phone.
Earlier tonight, when she called Cen Yuan to ask why he still hadn’t seduced Jiang Liuyue, he had come clean.
“Li Feile.”
He had addressed her by her full name, not even bothering with “Feile,” his tone as cold as a stranger’s.
“I don’t want to keep playing this boring game with you anymore. You chase Song Hanzheng, I chase you—it’s not fun, and I’m tired.”
Li Feile fell silent for a moment.
Then her voice grew even more furious.
“So you’re not going to help me anymore, are you? Or is it just that you lack the charm to seduce Jiang Liuyue?”
She tried to provoke him, like she always had.
A single word from her used to bring him right back to her side, always ready and accommodating, the reliable Cen Yuan who answered every call.
But this time, Cen Yuan’s voice carried a hint of amusement.
“That’s right, I can’t seduce Jiang Liuyue.”
He paused, and his tone turned serious.
“On the contrary, I’m drawn to her.”
“Li Feile, I think I need to find someone else to worship from now on. Let’s leave it at that. I don’t think we need to see each other anymore.”
Before Li Feile could recover, the call ended, leaving only the dull buzz of a dead line.
She stood frozen, her expression shifting from anger to confusion, from confusion to resentment, and from resentment to something far more dangerous.
Li Feile could accept Song Hanzheng’s indifference.
After all, she had spent years chasing him without ever getting a response.
But she could not accept Cen Yuan’s indifference.
Cen Yuan had always been at her heels, always there for her, as if he belonged to her.
How could she bear to see him drawn to Jiang Liuyue?
Li Feile’s voice came through again: “How are you going to help me? Don’t tell me you’re planning to drug my brother.”
Li Feile sneered.
“Drug him? I wouldn’t stoop to such childish tricks.”
“Uncle Song hasn’t made his will yet, has he?” she brought up abruptly.
Lin Yizhou’s voice trembled. Even though he was disappointed in his father, he still held onto some shred of hope and affection.
“No! I won’t help you hurt my father.” His refusal was resolute.
But then Li Feile’s mocking voice came through.
“Then watch Song Hanzheng become the heir of the Song family, while you remain nothing more than Lin Yizhou for the rest of your life!”
“The status, the resources, the money, the women you want—all of it will belong to Song Hanzheng.”
