Chapter Thirty-Six: Do Girls Need Company?

A little after five o’clock, inside the villa.

Chen Siyang pushed open the door, glanced inside before even changing her shoes.

No one’s back yet?

The living room was empty.

After returning to her room to put away her bag, Chen Siyang took a folder downstairs.

On the seven-shaped sofa, she curled up in the corner.

She opened the file folder—inside was an outline and a script.

The outline was the story background for the second installment of “World in the Painting,” and the script contained the biography of the character she’d been assigned, as well as a micro-script for that character.

Chen Siyang read for less than five minutes before setting it down again, inexplicably irritable.

She poured herself a glass of water, flipped through a book, then sat beside the piano—unable to focus.

It wasn’t until someone pushed open the door that she looked up—Zhou Yun had returned.

“So early?” Zhou Yun exclaimed in surprise.

Usually, Zhou Yun was the first to arrive.

“I didn’t have much to do today,” Chen Siyang replied, rising from the piano.

“Were you about to play?” Zhou Yun asked with a smile.

She’d just finished changing her shoes, catching Chen Siyang as she stood up from the piano.

Chen Siyang shook her head and returned to the sofa to pick up her folder.

Zhou Yun didn’t linger in the living room; after exchanging a few words, she headed upstairs.

Tang Zhichu came home just a few minutes before six. Entering, she was surprised to see Chen Siyang curled up on the sofa, eyes closed—apparently asleep.

Near the stairs, in the fitness area, Zhou Yun was running.

Tang Zhichu approached the sofa quietly and draped a blanket over Chen Siyang.

After placing her bags in the kitchen, she returned to the living room to find Chen Siyang awake, staring into space.

“Why not go upstairs and sleep?” Tang Zhichu asked as she came closer.

Chen Siyang snapped out of her daze and stretched, saying, “I hadn’t planned to sleep.”

After her nap, her energy seemed renewed. She raised her head and sniffed the air deeply. “I think I smell something special.”

“Something delicious—who’s cooking tonight?”

Tang Zhichu sat beside her, then suddenly felt something underneath. “What’s this?”

“It’s mine. I don’t know who’s cooking. Let’s just order takeout. Everyone’s worked pretty hard,” Chen Siyang replied.

Tang Zhichu pulled out the folder from beneath her and handed it to her. “What’s this?”

“A script.”

“Oh? Did you get a project?”

Chen Siyang nodded. “A role slightly better than an extra—about the same as the female police officer He Jin played in that movie we watched.”

She rolled over, her hat off, propping herself on her elbows to look at Tang Zhichu.

Tang Zhichu frowned in surprise and asked, “Did your agent find it for you?”

At this, Chen Siyang grew a bit smug. “No, I got it myself.”

Tang Zhichu nodded in understanding, though inwardly thought, Silly girl, getting a role on your own at a time like this isn’t necessarily a good thing.

“Pretty impressive, right?” Chen Siyang asked.

Tang Zhichu smiled. “A little. So you’re worried about this role?”

“Where do you see worry?”

“Your state tells me something’s off.”

Chen Siyang snorted softly, “If I’m worried, it’s because of you.”

Tang Zhichu shrugged and stood up.

Watching Tang Zhichu walk away, Chen Siyang tilted her head toward the ceiling, clearly displeased.

But Tang Zhichu returned, now holding two cups of milk tea.

Chen Siyang grinned and sat up cross-legged. “Is it from the shop at the corner?”

Tang Zhichu nodded. “Passed by it several times, finally couldn’t resist and bought two.”

“I always want one every time I pass by, but never dare to ask the driver to stop.”

Tang Zhichu handed her a cup, glanced at Zhou Yun, and called out, “Want some milk tea?”

Zhou Yun turned, raised her fitness watch to signal she hadn’t run enough yet and declined.

Tang Zhichu didn’t hesitate—she pierced the lid with a straw.

Tang Zhichu and Chen Siyang sat cross-legged on the sofa together, Tang Zhichu scrolling through her phone, while Chen Siyang hugged her script.

Every so often, they sipped milk tea.

Tang Zhichu was researching something. Chen Siyang’s agent was Liu Yu, one of Tianhe Entertainment’s most seasoned agents.

After looking a few things up, Tang Zhichu glanced at Chen Siyang.

Some things were hard to say. It seemed Chen Siyang didn’t quite understand.

But Tang Zhichu understood her mindset—she was working hard to master her environment, and that itself was a transformation.

Tang Zhichu had intended to tell her it was best to notify her agent before choosing a project.

But she held back. If she could spot these issues, her agent probably could too—though she didn’t know how much Chen Siyang mattered to her agent.

Gradually, more people returned to the villa. Compared to the initial formality, things had grown much more relaxed—they ordered takeout for dinner.

After dinner, everyone went for a walk outside.

They followed the wooden boardwalk, leading to an artificial lake, the grass there soft beneath their feet.

Yang Jiaxing stood by the lake, unmoving for a long time, lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?” Huang Zejun approached.

Yang Jiaxing turned and smiled, though the smile was tinged with helplessness. At first, he’d considered Huang Zejun his greatest rival.

“What do you think is most important for a girl?” Yang Jiaxing suddenly asked.

Huang Zejun paused, then thought carefully.

Under the night sky, he’d wanted to have a real conversation with Yang Jiaxing.

Deep down, Huang Zejun truly respected Yang Jiaxing. He thought Jiaxing had excellent qualities; as for himself, he’d earned everything through years of hard work.

“Guidance? Companionship?”

Yang Jiaxing glanced at him, thinking, No wonder you lost to Tang Zhichu.

Jiaxing had spoken to several friends skilled in relationships today. After seeking advice, he understood—but too late.

He shook his head. “No. For ordinary girls, guidance and companionship matter. But what about extraordinary ones?”

From Huang Zejun’s answer, Yang Jiaxing could tell what kind of person he was. When dating, Zejun probably always chose girls weaker than himself.

Such girls were easy to manage—they needed guidance and companionship.

Huang Zejun looked at the others, then asked, “So what do you think matters most?”

“Joy, excitement—even pain.”

Huang Zejun frowned. Joy? Excitement—even pain?

“Brother Jun, in truth, girls don’t need companionship.”

Huang Zejun shook his head. “Without companionship, what’s there to like?”

Yang Jiaxing fell silent, feeling suddenly much better.

It wasn’t that girls didn’t need companionship—it was just the least important part.

At least he felt he understood, even if it meant losing. But Huang Zejun? He’d lose and remain ignorant.

Huang Zejun didn’t think he failed to understand Jiaxing’s point—what Jiaxing described felt a little insincere.

Like fishing.

What was Huang Zejun thinking?

No wonder Chen Siyang didn’t choose you—you deserved to lose.

The conversation ended; Huang Zejun realized he and Yang Jiaxing had nothing in common. He glanced at Tang Zhichu, who lay contentedly on the grass.