Chapter 46

Summer came earlier than usual this year. By May, the weather had already turned hot—before anyone could catch the tail end of spring, the breath of summer had settled over everything.

This was Zhao Yu’s first time acting alongside so many seasoned veterans, and the pressure was much greater than before. Although she had a great teacher by her side, most of the work still came down to her own efforts.

But acting couldn’t be rushed—it took more watching, more learning, more doing. Fortunately, she had the right attitude. She’d turned down other commitments to stay on set full-time, and the director didn’t mind a few extra NGs to help her find her best performance.

Han Shuang understood this well, which was why she hadn’t scheduled any other activities for Zhao Yu—to leave a good impression and smooth the transition toward more serious dramas.

Then, not long after, Han Shuang called her out of the blue: “How’s the filming going? Can you step away?”

Zhao Yu was fanning herself under the shade. “Not really. My scenes are pretty heavy right now—still grinding through them. What’s up?”

Han Shuang said, “The Fashion Star Awards reached out—they want you to fill in. But it’s not certain yet; they also contacted Huo Xi. If he agrees, you won’t have to go. Just giving you a heads-up.”

Zhao Yu’s hand paused on the fan, a knot of unease forming in her chest. “Fashion Star Awards? Didn’t they invite Shen Junyi this year? Why do they need a replacement?”

Han Shuang’s voice came through the receiver, slightly distorted: “Shen Junyi can’t make it. I heard his grandmother passed away the day before yesterday. He went back home to arrange the funeral.”

Zhao Yu’s pupils dilated sharply. She shot up from her chair so abruptly that she knocked over the small side table holding her water.

Cups clattered and rolled across the ground, drawing everyone’s attention. Under the blazing summer sun, Zhao Yu’s face looked pale. She clutched the phone, turned, and walked a few quick steps, then stopped as if she didn’t know where to go.

Her assistant hurried over, hesitating: “Xiao Yu, what’s wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Han Shuang was also asking, “Hello? Are you still there?”

Zhao Yu’s eyes stung so badly they were almost tearing up.

Han Shuang’s voice grew anxious: “Hello? Xiao Yu? What happened?”

She closed her eyes and said quietly, “I’m fine. Bad signal.”

Han Shuang said a few more things—Zhao Yu barely heard them. After hanging up, she headed straight to the restroom. She splashed cold water on her face twice, then looked up at her reflection in the mirror and saw her red-rimmed eyes.

An elderly person passing away at an advanced age wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Grandma Shen’s health hadn’t been great over the past couple of years. When Zhao Yu had visited Hangzhou the year before, she’d made time to see her, and by then, the old lady could barely recognize her anymore.

But when the day actually came, death still hurt.

Zhao Yu took a moment to calm herself before calling Jiang Yu.

Jiang Yu was busy preparing a new variety show and was swamped. It took two calls before he picked up—sounding distant, like he was on speakerphone: “Hello? What’s up?”

Zhao Yu said, “Uncle, Grandma Shen has passed away.”

The sound of papers shuffling stopped. After a moment, the phone was picked up: “When did it happen?”

Zhao Yu felt her eyes welling up again: “Not sure—probably the day before yesterday.” She paused. “Uncle, the funeral…”

Jiang Yu said, “You can’t go.”

She fell silent.

Jiang Yu sighed. “The Shen family surely doesn’t want media attention at the funeral. There’ll be too many people and loose lips. If you’re photographed and it gets online… you know how today’s gossip accounts and netizens are—they’ll spin any story for clicks. And Shen Junyi wouldn’t want to be linked in a scandal with a female celebrity at his grandmother’s funeral.”

After a moment, Jiang Yu heard a soft, choked sob on the other end.

He said gently, “Grandma Shen lived to a ripe age. Passing on at her stage of life is a ‘happy funeral.’ Don’t be too upset. Once this period passes, I’ll go with you to pay respects. I’m sure the old lady won’t hold it against you.”

After a long moment, she gave a quiet “Mm” in reply.

Although the Fashion Star Awards hadn’t officially announced this year’s opening performer, word that they’d invited Shen Junyi had already leaked, and the Yi Ren had bought their tickets early. With this turn of events, the organizers couldn’t force him to attend, so they had to find someone else to fill in.

When Zhao Yu returned to the set, Xia Yuan was waiting anxiously outside. The moment he saw her, he rushed over. “Sis, what’s wrong? You look terrible—are you not feeling well?”

Zhao Yu shook her head, then nodded.

Xia Yuan said, “I’ll get the director to give you the rest of the day off. Go back to the hotel and rest.”

She really wasn’t in any state to act. Zhao Yu didn’t refuse. She changed out of her costume and returned to the hotel with her assistant.

The afternoon sun was glaring. Zhao Yu drew the curtains, lay down on the bed, and closed her eyes for a while. She felt a dull ache in her heart but didn’t know who to talk to about it.

She could only tell herself over and over: birth, aging, illness, and death were all part of life—everyone goes through it.

But then she thought: with Grandma gone, Shen Junyi was basically all alone now. She’d never heard him mention his mother, though relatives in Hangzhou had said that after his mother remarried, she had another daughter. With a new family, she could give him even less love and attention.

If she felt this sad, he must feel worse.

And he was the type to bury everything inside, to put on a brave face and smile while receiving mourners, making sure everything was handled properly.

Zhao Yu sat up and opened his WeChat. She typed “Please accept my condolences” but it felt too hollow.

She rubbed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dialed his number.

It rang three times before he picked up. His voice was hoarse and tired: “Hello.”

Zhao Yu suddenly didn’t know what to say.

There was silence on both ends.

A few seconds later, he laughed—just like he always did: “Zhao Yu, did you call just to listen to me breathe?”

She smiled too, then her voice softened: “I heard about your grandmother. I’m sorry.”

“What’s there to be sorry about?” He cleared his throat, and his voice sounded less rough. “She was old—our family had been prepared for a while. I’ve just been busy with funeral arrangements these past couple of days and haven’t had a chance to tell you.”

Zhao Yu’s voice dropped even lower: “I can’t make it to the funeral. Could you burn some paper money for me at her grave?”

Shen Junyi laughed and replied, “Sure. No problem. Ah, don’t overthink it—just focus on your filming. Xia Yuan told me you’ve been NG’ing a lot lately and the director’s been on your case. What’s going on, Zhao Yu? You losing your touch?”

He was always like this.

No matter when, it seemed like he was never sad.

Zhao Yu felt a tightness in her chest.

With him like this, she couldn’t even bring herself to say comforting words.

She spoke with a hint of defiance: “Of course I’ve still got it. If I don’t, do you?”

Shen Junyi: “Fine, fine—you’re the best. So stop NG’ing. Focus on your acting, learn from the teachers on set, and don’t worry about anything else.”

Zhao Yu lowered her gaze. After a pause, she said, “Got it. After I wrap, I’ll go pay respects to Grandma.”

He laughed: “Alright. I’ll get back to work then.” He was about to hang up, then suddenly called out, “Zhao Yu.”

She put the phone back to her ear: “Yeah?”

He said gently, “Don’t be sad. Grandma passed away peacefully.”

In the end, he was the one comforting her.

The tears Zhao Yu had been holding back finally broke loose. After hanging up, she buried her head under her pillow—just like she did as a child—and cried into her blanket.

A few days later, the Fashion Star Awards officially announced this year’s opening performer—Huo Xi.

In the end, he’d agreed to fill in.

He was currently filming a modern crime drama with Sheng Qiao in Hangzhou, and the awards were in Shanghai—close enough to be convenient.

Zhao Yu pulled herself together and threw herself back into her scenes.

It wasn’t until the end of May that she finally wrapped her part.

This was the toughest drama she’d ever filmed. The director demanded that every scene with the veteran actors be performed with pinpoint precision—down to the subtlest expressions and glances—and didn’t hesitate to call for NG after NG to get it right.

It was more stressful than the college entrance exams had been. She was on edge the whole time, humbly asking for guidance and giving it her all, not daring to let her mind wander. In the end, she met the director’s high standards.

She expected that once the show aired, her transition into serious acting would go smoothly.

The shoot had gone so well largely thanks to Ji Shucheng’s patient guidance. The more accomplished people were, the less they put on airs—no wonder he’d stayed relevant for so many years.

At the wrap party, Zhao Yu had prepared gifts for everyone on the crew. For each of the veteran actors, she’d chosen presents based on their personal tastes. For Ji Shucheng, she gave a painting by the renowned Chinese ink master Shen Qingyun—a piece titled The Gentleman Among Bamboo.

It came in a carved sandalwood box. When she handed it over, Ji Shucheng smiled and asked, “Is it a painting?”

Zhao Yu gave him a thumbs up. “Teacher Ji is so sharp.”

Xia Yuan looked at his own simple gift box, then at Ji Shucheng’s sandalwood one, and immediately felt sour: “Is the difference really that big?”

Ji Shucheng shook his head with a smile and asked Zhao Yu, “May I open it?”

Zhao Yu made an inviting gesture: “Of course! Once it’s yours, it’s yours—look all you want.”

Ji Shucheng placed the box on an empty table and opened it, revealing the scroll tied with gold thread. The commotion drew a crowd of onlookers. As the ink painting slowly unfurled before them, gasps of admiration filled the air.

“This painting must be worth a fortune!”
“I know Shen Qingyun! I’ve been to one of her exhibitions!”
“Our female lead is treating the male lead differently.”
“It’s bamboo—a gentleman among bamboo. Really suits Teacher Ji. You can tell Xiao Yu put a lot of thought into this!”

The onlookers buzzed with chatter, some even snapping photos with their phones. Ji Shucheng studied the painting with quiet appreciation for a moment, then rolled it back up and gave Zhao Yu a warm smile. “I love the gift. Thank you.”

Zhao Yu clasped her hands behind her back, tilted her head, and beamed. “I’m glad you like it, Teacher Ji.”

By the time the wrap party ended, the hashtag “#ZhaoYuGiftsJiShuchengGentlemanAmongBambooPainting” had shot to number one on the trending chart.

During the event, with all kinds of people around, someone had leaked the photos online. Netizens flocked to the discussion:

– That’s a Shen Qingyun original, isn’t it?
– Looked it up—priced in the six-figure range. Zhao Yu really didn’t hold back.
– He’s a Best Actor, after all. Of course she’d want to please him.
– Even on a trending post, there are sour grapes. Is your idol so irrelevant now that you bite anyone you see?
– Zhao Yu prepared gifts for the whole crew. Word is she learned a lot on this shoot—veteran actors taught her hands-on, especially the Best Actor. It’s only natural to give a thank-you gift.
– “The Gentleman Among Bamboo”—perfect for Teacher Ji. Zhao Yu really put her heart into it.
– So easy to ship QAQ—the Idiom CP is irresistible! Can’t wait to watch the show!
– Honestly, they do match well—one calm, one lively; one warm, one fiery. They complement each other!
– Zhao Yu once said Ji Shucheng was her ideal type. Maybe they really did fall for each other on set.
– It’s just a senior-junior working relationship. Please focus on Zhao Yu’s stage work and projects instead.
……

Riding the buzz of that trending topic, the production team took the chance to promote Nine Heavens. The male characters’ scenes were still wrapping up, with full production expected to finish by June and a preliminary premiere date set for March next year. Netizens were brimming with anticipation.

The next morning, Zhao Yu flew back to Beijing. After resting at home for two days, she made time with Jiang Yu to travel to Hangzhou together to pay respects at Grandma Shen’s grave.

The funeral had been over for a month, and the flowers at the grave had withered. The black-and-white photo on the headstone showed the old woman with a kind, smiling face, her hair done up in the bun she’d always favored. Zhao Yu crouched down and looked at it for a while, and found that she no longer felt sad.

Someone as good as Grandma Shen would surely have gone to heaven to reunite with her son.