Chapter 39

For a moment, the elevated bridge was filled with the screech of brakes and blaring horns. Countless cars came to a stop. Witnesses to the accident got out and rushed toward the edge of the bridge. Some called 119, some called 120, and others pulled out their phones to record videos.

But the river’s surface showed no trace of the vehicle—the water had swallowed everything in an instant.

Both Zhao Yu and Lin Zhinan were frozen in shock.

The driver’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. Just moments ago, he’d been thinking about overtaking that car. If they had actually pulled ahead, or if they’d been in the middle of overtaking when the minivan lost control, they might have been caught up in it too. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Silence filled the car.

Zhao Yu saw Shen Junyi’s van pull over as well. The door was thrown open, and he leaned half his body out, only to be yanked back inside by his assistant.

A brief argument later, the door closed again, and there was no further movement.

The bridge was noisy with people coming and going, but no one noticed him there. No one knew what connection that minivan plunging into the river had to him.

The wail of sirens grew closer. Ambulances and fire trucks soon rolled onto the bridge, and traffic police directed the stopped vehicles to move on. Order was slowly restored to the bridge.

The black Mercedes ahead didn’t move, and neither did Zhao Yu’s car.

After a moment, a traffic officer walked over and tapped on the window. “Move along, move along. Stop staring. No parking here. Clear the emergency lane and get going.”

The driver glanced back at Zhao Yu.

Her voice was a little hoarse. “Let’s go.”

The car slowly pulled forward. Zhao Yu saw a traffic officer standing by Shen Junyi’s van, likely saying the same thing, and then that vehicle too silently merged into the flow of traffic.

It wasn’t until they were off the elevated bridge that Lin Zhinan finally found her voice. “That was terrifying…” She turned to Zhao Yu, her face still pale. “What happened? Was it a mechanical failure or the driver’s fault?”

Zhao Yu shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Lin Zhinan was flustered for a moment. “Shen Junyi… Shen Junyi… this accident…”

Zhao Yu’s expression turned serious. She looked at her calmly and said, “Don’t mention this to anyone. And especially—don’t let him know we were there too.” She glanced at the driver. “Brother Yang.”

The driver immediately nodded emphatically. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Xiao Yu, rest assured, this has nothing to do with us. I’ve been driving for artists for years—I know what to say and what not to say. You can count on me. My lips are sealed!”

Lin Zhinan sighed and said quietly, “This must be a huge psychological blow for him. But it’s not really his fault, is it? They wouldn’t go crazy just because he yelled at them a couple times. It was probably still an accident…”

Zhao Yu didn’t respond, scrolling through her phone instead. News of the car plunging into the river had already hit the trending charts. People were sending prayers for safety and speculating on the cause of the accident. Rescue teams were already searching the river.

But everyone knew that in an accident like this, survival was nearly impossible.

Zhao Yu closed Weibo and opened WeChat. She tapped into Shen Junyi’s chat, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a long time before she finally sent a message: Please wish Grandma Shen a happy birthday for me.

She didn’t receive a reply until boarding.

She’d kept an eye out at the airport but hadn’t seen Shen Junyi’s van. She didn’t know where he’d gone.

On the plane, the flight attendant brought over a generous and exquisite breakfast, saying enthusiastically, “I really like you—you’re even more beautiful in person than on TV.”

Zhao Yu mustered a smile in return.

Lin Zhinan was equally listless. Neither of them had much of an appetite. After the flight attendant cleared their trays, they leaned against each other and listened to music for a while. Lin Zhinan couldn’t help but rest her head on Zhao Yu’s shoulder and murmur, “I feel so bad for Shen Junyi. He’s been harassed for so long, and the first time he finally stands up for himself, this happens. I hope he doesn’t feel guilty—it really wasn’t his fault…”

Zhao Yu kept her eyes closed, but the image of the car going over the bridge kept flashing through her mind.

He would.

He would definitely feel guilty about it—even burdened with a sense of culpability.

That’s just who he was.

Even if he was no longer the clear, bright boy like a summer breeze from her memories, even if he used his carefree, slacker demeanor to hide a world of thoughts—his kindness and gentleness remained the same as ever.

His eyes had never changed—radiant and pure, brighter than the stars on a summer night.

A person like that, no matter what had caused the accident, would ultimately place the blame on himself, tell no one, and silently digest it all alone.

She couldn’t even go to comfort him, because he surely wouldn’t want anyone else to know about this.

When the plane landed, the rescue team had already pulled the sunken vehicle from the river. Only the driver’s body was found inside. Based on the dashcam footage from the car next to the minivan, it appeared there were two more people in the back seat, and their bodies were still being recovered.

The damaged vehicle was inspected on-site by professionals, and the preliminary finding was brake failure.

Zhao Yu got into the car heading to the company. When she opened WeChat, she saw that Shen Junyi had finally replied: Okay! /grin

Her fingers trembled slightly as she stared at the grinning emoji he loved to use. In the end, she didn’t say anything more.

She had a new endorsement press conference that afternoon. At the company, Han Shuang was bustling about with a beaming smile. The morning’s trending social news hadn’t affected the busy working crowd much.

There were so many accidents in this world—beyond a sigh, there was little anyone could give.

Han Shuang noticed Zhao Yu wasn’t in the best state but assumed it was just exhaustion from the early flight. While the makeup and hair team worked, she even brought in a masseuse to help her relax. “This is your first domestic light luxury endorsement. Not only the brand, but a lot of big names in the industry will be there. You better keep your energy up!”

Zhao Yu took a deep breath, forcibly pushing those images out of her mind, and nodded.

What followed was nonstop busyness.

The framework for her first post-return personal album had been laid out. Not only had they acquired some high-quality tracks, but they’d also begun collaborating with several well-known songwriters and lyricists. Commercial performances, variety shows, ads—she was sprinting full speed toward the top.

A few days later, during her lunch break, Zhao Yu ducked into a storage room at the recording studio to call Grandma Shen.

The elderly woman’s hearing wasn’t great—the phone rang for a while before she picked up, laughing as she said, “Xiao Yu!”

Zhao Yu smiled too. “Grandma, happy birthday.”

The voice on the phone sounded delighted. “Happy indeed! We’re steaming buns—are you coming over, Xiao Yu?”

Zhao Yu laughed. “I’m too busy with work to make it, Grandma. Take care of yourself. Oh, did you get a cake?”

Grandma Shen said, “We did! Junyi bought a huge one—two tiers! That child, always wasting money. I don’t even like sweets that much.”

He was home.

Zhao Yu felt an inexplicable wave of relief.

In the background, Shen Junyi’s voice chimed in, loud and exaggerated: “Grandma, why is there scallion in this bowl of filling too?! Then what am I supposed to eat?!”

Grandma Shen turned her head and replied, “Yours is in the fridge. Xiao Luo put it there earlier so it wouldn’t get mixed up. Stop shouting—I’m on the phone with Xiao Yu.”

The voice on the other end drew closer, clearer, cheerful: “Hey, Zhao Yu? Wanna come over for some buns? We specially invited Chef Huang to come chop the filling!”

Zhao Yu’s throat tightened.

After a moment, she answered with a smile: “Too busy—can’t make it. You eat a few extra for me.”

He said, “You got it.”

Grandma Shen chatted with Zhao Yu a little longer before hanging up. She slowly walked back to the dining table and, while making buns with the housekeeper, reminisced: “It’s been years since I last saw Xiao Yu.”

Shen Junyi was bringing out his own scallion-free filling from the fridge. “She’s too busy now—even more famous than me. Weren’t you just watching her drink milk on TV yesterday?”

Grandma Shen adjusted her reading glasses and smiled. “I barely recognized her. She’s all grown up now.” She thought of something and turned to instruct him, “You entered the industry earlier than Xiao Yu, so you should look out for her at work. It’s not easy for a young woman making her way. Besides, she called you ‘big brother’ for so many years.”

Shen Junyi picked up a rolled-out wrapper and muttered, “She doesn’t call me that anymore. All teeth and claws now—fierce as anything.”

Grandma Shen pretended to threaten him with a rolling pin. “Girls have thin skin. I know you well enough—stop teasing her.”

Shen Junyi made a funny face.

On this birthday, not too many relatives or friends came. The elderly relatives of Grandma Shen’s generation were too old for long trips, so they just called to wish her well. A few uncles from the Shen family came, had a meal, cut the cake, and left the same day. The small courtyard, bathed in sunset, fell quiet once more.

In recent years, Grandma Shen didn’t like going out much. She often sat in her lounge chair by the small flowerbed, soaking up the sun. Shen Junyi tidied up the house, dragged over a little stool, and sat beside her, telling her gossip from the entertainment world.

He made her laugh heartily.

She turned to look at her grandson on that little camp stool—a stool he’d carried everywhere since childhood. He’d sat on it telling her jokes when he was just a few years old, and now, in his twenties, nothing had changed.

The old woman’s eyes grew wet as she watched him. She sighed, “You’re exactly like your father—cut from the same mold.”

Shen Junyi sat up straighter. “Who says? I’m clearly better-looking than him, right?”

Grandma Shen laughed and tapped his head. “You even inherited the same restless streak from him.”

The elderly loved to reminisce. Her weathered face, wrapped in the golden glow of sunset, held a placid serenity: “Back when your father was a sketch comedy actor, every time he had a new act, he’d perform it for me first. Only if I laughed did the skit pass. Then, after your father passed, your mother remarried and wanted to take you with her.”

She took his long-fingered hand in hers and studied it carefully: “You threw a fit, crying that you wouldn’t go—that you had to stay with Grandma. Your mother had no choice but to leave alone. On the day she left, I was sitting right here, watching her carry her luggage in and out, silently crying. And you held my hand and promised that you’d make Grandma laugh every day, just like your father did. You said you were great at telling jokes—’A monkey on a tree, a monkey on the ground…'”

She laughed again, laughing until tears came.

Her life hadn’t been easy—losing her husband young, losing her son in middle age. But this grandson had given her the greatest companionship and comfort she could have asked for.

…………

Summer was the season for commercial performances and music festivals. In previous years, the Yi Ren would’ve been chasing events all across the country, screaming and cheering for their beloved idol on stage.

But as summer set in and deepened, Shen Junyi’s studio still hadn’t announced any activities. Not only that, but even a previously confirmed commercial performance had been canceled, with the official reason being the artist’s poor health.

When the Yi Ren heard their brother was sick, they immediately stopped pushing and demanding, leaving messages for the staff to take good care of him. They weren’t in a rush—it didn’t matter if there were no events; his health came first.

Lin Yi even asked Zhao Yu on the side, trying to gauge how serious his illness was and how he was doing.

Zhao Yu knew he hadn’t left Hangzhou—he’d been staying with his grandmother. She also understood that he hadn’t canceled these months’ worth of schedules due to illness, but was quietly isolating himself.

She didn’t say anything, though. She just replied to Lin Yi, telling her not to worry.

She believed time could heal everything, and that he could find his way out of the shadows.

After that came a dizzying schedule.

The next time Zhao Yu saw Shen Junyi was at Mango TV’s New Year’s Eve Gala.

Mango TV had always been known as the “traffic station,” only inviting the hottest idols each year. Every year, Shen Junyi and Huo Xi were among them, and Zhao Yu had received her invitation months in advance.

Her meteoric rise in popularity that year had been staggering, even surpassing the debut data of Huo Xi and Shen Junyi. The three of them practically dominated every major data chart, commercial stage, and endorsement ranking.

In the past, if you couldn’t book Shen Junyi, you’d go for Huo Xi. If you couldn’t get Huo Xi, you’d go for Shen Junyi. It was always one of those two—no one else could compare in terms of popularity, influence, or talent.

Now, the options included a third name: Zhao Yu.

The term “Top Three Icons” appeared for the first time in media announcements.