Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Woman's Heart, Truly Ruthless

“What nonsense are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Zhou Yun didn’t take Tang Zhichu’s bait and pretended to be clueless.

Without looking at him, Tang Zhichu simply held out her hand.

“What is it?”

“Didn’t you ask me to take some photos for you? Hand over your phone.”

It was clear Zhou Yun knew what she was doing behind the camera; she deliberately chose a spot where shadow and sunlight intertwined.

Through the lens, the young woman in the white jacket smiled toward them, turning slightly to show off her shapely figure. Tang Zhichu paused, momentarily stunned, before finally hitting the shutter.

Zhou Yun’s figure was on the slender side, but with a small frame and just the right amount of firmness—her legs alone made that much obvious.

On the way up, Tang Zhichu had originally planned to feign exhaustion, thinking that, with a girl as assertive as Zhou Yun, you couldn’t go head-to-head with her; showing weakness might actually prompt her to ease up.

If I’m half-dead with fatigue, surely you’ll vent your frustrations and let it go, right?

But Tang Zhichu had overestimated his own stamina—or perhaps underestimated Zhou Yun. She was truly in great shape, while Tang Zhichu was genuinely worn out.

Halfway up the slope, he could barely manage a word, his mouth busy just catching his breath.

“How is it? Looks good?” Zhou Yun asked Tang Zhichu.

Still panting, he replied, “You… you decide for yourself.”

“That won’t do. I always think I look good; only your opinion is objective.”

Tang Zhichu handed the phone back to her. “It’s good.”

“Really?”

“Just a few strands of hair stuck to your forehead.”

About to take the phone, Zhou Yun withdrew her hand. “No, one more.”

She fished a mirror out of her small bag, fixed her makeup, then ran over for another go.

In the end, it took three or four attempts before they got a photo she was satisfied with.

Tang Zhichu took it as a chance to rest; after all, today’s main mission seemed to be soothing this young lady’s temper.

Still, he mentally chalked up the debt to Chen Siyang. If not for her, Tang Zhichu believed he’d never have gotten on Zhou Yun’s bad side.

After the photos, they continued climbing. Zhou Yun was still light on her feet, running ahead and waiting at intervals when Tang Zhichu lagged behind.

By the time they reached the summit, it was almost four o’clock. There were many pavilions up here, and the wind was strong.

At the top, Tang Zhichu made no effort to keep up appearances, sprawling on the wooden bench of a pavilion.

Women—how ruthless they could be.

Tang Zhichu thought that, after showing so much weakness, Zhou Yun would surely relent. But instead of softening, only his own muscles had turned to jelly.

Zhou Yun bought two bottles of water from a nearby shop. Seeing Tang Zhichu sprawled out in defeat, she sighed inwardly—fine, I’ll let you off the hook this time.

“See, wasn’t I right? You really should train more.” Zhou Yun placed a bottle before him.

Tang Zhichu sat up, leaning against a pavilion pillar. He didn’t want to talk, just gulped down several mouthfuls of water.

“I was going to take you cycling, you know. There’s a gorgeous trail here, weaving through the mountains. The hike was just an appetizer.”

Tang Zhichu stared at her. “You…”

Zhou Yun just grinned, finally letting out a long breath.

“Relax. Do I seem so cruel? If you’d said you were tired, we could’ve driven up. It’s not like there’s no road.”

Tang Zhichu: “I…”

She burst out laughing.

Zhou Yun mimicked his posture, sitting on the next bench and leaning against the same pillar. She felt she’d already been kind enough—at least she hadn’t played any little tricks on him.

“Hey, what was the point of that book you wanted me to read?” Zhou Yun asked.

Now that he’d caught his breath, Tang Zhichu replied, “So you didn’t read it at all?”

“I tried, but couldn’t get into it. ‘Self as Mind’? Were you calling me clever in a bad way, or mocking me?”

He thought for a moment. The reason he’d recommended that book was because of its opening line: We always think we can control our own little worlds, but rarely do we face ourselves honestly…

What he’d wanted to say was that, whatever your goal, as long as you do your best, there will always be people who appreciate you. Trying to control or manipulate others only drains you from within.

But Tang Zhichu felt he wasn’t in any position to say such things.

“No, I just mentioned it casually.”

“As if I’d believe that.”

Zhou Yun said nothing more, instead picking up her phone and typing away.

Tang Zhichu gazed into the distance. From the summit, the mountain city stretched on endlessly, its jungle of concrete and steel exuding a sense of immense pressure.

How many people lived in this city?

Whatever Zhou Yun’s intentions, they suddenly seemed insignificant.

Just like this city—so many people, but how many would be climbing a mountain at this hour?

From her fitness, it was clear Zhou Yun wasn’t someone who cut corners.

And neither was he—after all, how could one succeed in business without a few tricks?

If you only moved forward by the book, when would you ever reach so-called success?

Can anyone only allow themselves shortcuts? That would be the height of arrogance.

Zhou Yun was like that. So was he. And wasn’t Chen Siyang as well?

“Hurry up, use your DY to give me a like!” Zhou Yun called out suddenly.

After all her editing, she’d paired the photos with music and uploaded them to DY.

Tang Zhichu pulled out his phone. “What’s your DY username?”

“X!”

“X?”

“Yeah, just a name. What’s so strange?”

He found her account and browsed her posts. “Wow, impressive.”

A faint flush crept onto Zhou Yun’s cheeks. “What’s so impressive? Haven’t you seen beautiful women before?”

She had dozens of posts, most at the gym—showing off her legs, curves, and a well-defined midsection.

She had quite a following too—over two hundred thousand.

Tang Zhichu liked her latest post. No wonder she’d stopped updating Weibo—she’d moved on to DY.

“It’s pretty good, actually,” he said.

“Is it? At least I’m actually working out, unlike some who just take photos at the gym. At least this gym is really mine.”

Zhou Yun rolled her eyes, about to say more, when she suddenly frowned.

“Is your DY really ‘Little Tang Who Can’t Sing’?”

“Yeah.”

She stared. “Nine hundred thousand followers? No posts? Did you buy that account?”

It was the first time Tang Zhichu had properly looked at his own profile.

Yes, this was the greatest asset the original owner had left him—not just the nine hundred thousand followers, but the fact that every one of them had been earned through genuine talent.

He’d built this following by singing.

“If you like, you can think I bought it,” he said.

Zhou Yun suddenly looked disgruntled. No way he’d bought it—not when she’d worked herself to exhaustion, taking one good photo after another, and only managed two hundred thousand followers in half a year, while he had over nine hundred thousand with not a single post.

But she felt she’d uncovered one of Tang Zhichu’s secrets.

He was clearly far more than just a restaurant owner.