Chapter Six: An Unpleasant First Meeting

Seeing Wen Jingxing standing there, Cheng Mu asked in surprise, “Boss, why are you standing here? Did I forget to bring something?”

Wen Jingxing chuckled, “I’m watching a little wild cat bully someone.”

With that, he strode purposefully toward the small building.

Cheng Mu muttered inwardly, How could there be a wild cat here? And did the boss just smile? He didn’t dare dwell on it, quietly followed behind to deliver the papers inside, then slipped away.

Upstairs, Song Wanning was drying her hair when she suddenly heard movement downstairs, her brows immediately knitting.

Could it be that Jian An’an was still unwilling to give up? Or perhaps someone else had come in—but wasn’t she the only one with a key?

She grabbed the broom from the stairwell and crept quietly downstairs.

After Jian An’an had come looking for her earlier, Song Wanning had decided not to go downstairs again and had turned off all the lights on the first floor. Now the space below was shrouded in gloom.

Only a harsh white beam from the streetlamp outside slipped through the heavy curtains, casting a faint glow on the wooden floor. Through it, she could vaguely make out a tall figure moving around the living room.

She silently circled behind the figure, raised the broom, and was about to bring it down on their head.

Just then, the lights blazed on.

Wen Jingxing, sensing someone behind him, spun around instantly.

There before him was the woman who, just yesterday, had been acting out in all sorts of ways—now wielding a broom as if to attack him.

His dark eyes turned cold. “Song Wanning, what are you doing now?”

Song Wanning’s hand froze, the broom head stopping a perilous three centimeters from Wen Jingxing’s forehead.

Hearing him call her by name, and seeing how familiar he seemed, able to let himself into the house, she suddenly wondered—

“You… Wen Jingxing?”

“What, it’s only been a day and you can’t remember me? Am I really so tiresome to you, Miss Song?” Wen Jingxing’s face was full of amusement as he took two steps back.

“You came in without a sound and didn’t even turn on the lights. How was I supposed to know if you were a person or a ghost?” Song Wanning retorted.

She only knew the relationships and plot from the book; as for appearances, she had no idea—she could only rely on how others addressed each other. But even if Wen Jingxing hadn’t introduced himself, his tone alone made it clear who he was.

The book’s description of the male lead was of someone utterly merciless and sharp-tongued.

Faced with Song Wanning, the original protagonist, and beauties like Jian An’an, he remained unmoved, wholly devoted to his career. Love, to him, was nothing but a burden.

Song Wanning looked at Wen Jingxing, who stood in the lamplight in a formal black suit, likely just finished with work. His short, neat hair was a little tousled, his handsome brows drawn together, and his deep, frigid eyes fixed intently on her face. Beneath his straight nose, his thin lips were pressed tightly together, the lean line of his jaw tensed as if suppressing some emotion. He radiated an aura that warned strangers to keep their distance.

She shook her head inwardly. With a man this perfect, could it be he remained unmarried because he was… incapable?

Wen Jingxing’s frown deepened. One moment this woman wanted to bash him with a broom, the next she was shaking her head at him. Yesterday she’d been looking for any excuse to pick a fight. What on earth was going on in that little head of hers?

Young Master Wen, for all his confidence, could hardly fathom the complexity of a woman’s heart. Song Wanning, having spoken her piece, didn’t bother with another word, turning to head back upstairs.

The two exchanged not another word that night. Early the next morning—

Rising early, Wen Jingxing sat on the sofa just outside the living room. The little house was simply furnished; apart from the necessities, the production team hadn’t provided a single extra item.

Last night, Li Weiwei had messaged him: since he hadn’t drawn an identity card yesterday, he would be paired with Song Wanning for the next two days of work.

But he’d been sitting there for ages, and there was still no sign of Song Wanning stirring in her room.

He glanced at the door several times; as the meeting time approached, he was about to leave.

Just then, the tightly shut door suddenly opened.

Song Wanning emerged, dressed in denim overalls with a short-sleeved shirt patterned with tiny flowers underneath. Wen Jingxing’s eyes flickered with astonishment.

Wasn’t this so much better than that frilly, pink dress from the other day?

Her skin was fair as porcelain, her face bare of makeup, yet she radiated a fresh, lively innocence.

“You…” For once, Wen Jingxing, usually so caustic, found himself at a loss for words, perhaps stunned by her appearance.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s go.”

They headed to the meeting place, which was also where they’d eat. Breakfast seemed peaceful on the surface, but beneath the calm, rivalries simmered.

Especially Jian An’an—compared to the previous days, today she was exquisitely dressed, as if she wanted to impress someone in particular.

She began in a gentle tone, “Sister Shen Yue, our meals are different today. Why don’t you come join us?”

Shen Yue was fond of forming cliques, and immediately agreed with a smile.

Her partner, Jiang Mingzhao—the only son of Jiang Real Estate, notorious for his playboy ways though honest in character—was clearly unimpressed by her posturing. But he knew they were filming, so he said nothing, only maintaining a stern expression.

“Do you want to join us?” Jian An’an asked the others, her gaze settling expectantly on Wen Jingxing.

But both teams declined at once.

Jian An’an, slightly embarrassed at the rebuff, quickly mustered another smile. “That’s fine, too.”

After breakfast, Song Wanning headed to yesterday’s work site, Wen Jingxing following behind. He asked idly, “What job did you draw?”

She looked so delicate and gentle—he hoped she hadn’t drawn anything too difficult.

But the next moment, Song Wanning replied, “Gardener.”

Wen Jingxing nearly stumbled, tempted to ask if she’d failed to finish her task yesterday. But recalling the two trending topics he’d seen, he realized there was no need and said nothing more.

When they arrived, the same elderly man from yesterday greeted them.

Walking over with a cheerful smile, he said to Song Wanning, “You’re back. Today’s work will be a little easier. Is this young man also a guest here to work with you?”

“Yes, sir. So what’s today’s task?” Song Wanning stepped forward lightly, showing not a trace of dislike for the work.

Wen Jingxing watched as the two hit it off immediately, leaving him behind.

“She’s acting completely different from the day before…” he muttered in confusion.

Just then, Song Wanning turned around. Wen Jingxing thought she’d overheard him, but she only said, “Hurry up, we’re planting flower seedlings today.”

“She actually seems quite enthusiastic, too…” Wen Jingxing remarked, but did not reply, instead quickening his pace to catch up.

The old man explained, “Today, we won’t be working outside, but indoors. Some seedlings are very delicate and need special care before they can be transplanted outside…”

He spoke at length about various technical details. Song Wanning listened, but her mind was filled with anticipation—finally, she’d get to work indoors! She didn’t really mind the sun, but this heat was truly unbearable.

But as the large glass greenhouse came into view, Song Wanning paused and asked, “Sir, is this what you meant by ‘indoors’?”

Wen Jingxing, hearing her, instinctively thought: Has she finally reached her limit?