Giving You Dawn and Dusk - Chapter 25.1

Cheng Ran was stone drunk when she saw Liang Shi’s text message.

She was sprawled out on the sofa, her long hair scattered on the floor, and merely glanced at her phone.

She scoffed lightly. “Trash.”

Then she blocked her number.

And softly hummed a song.

Cheng Ran had many friends; she didn’t lack this one.

But Liang Shi was the most fun to play with. They had known each other since they were very young, causing trouble together throughout their school years.

Yet, in the end, she was cut off.

Although Cheng Ran found out it was because of her amnesia.

Does amnesia mean abandoning friends?

Especially when her words that day were so absolute.

Cheng Ran just wanted to teach her a lesson.

She likes her Omega, does she? Then I’ll ruin her Omega.

But at the critical moment, she still went soft.

A friend’s wife should not be messed with.

Cheng Ran didn’t touch Xu Qingzhu, but honestly, Xu Qingzhu was very alluring.

What Cheng Ran was troubled by now was her involvement with Zhou Yian.

And that woman was a psychopath.

She could guess what Liang Shi wanted when she asked to meet: a beating, a confrontation, and a question: Why did you try to hurt an Omega?

Why ask why? There was no reason.

She did it because she felt like it.

Cheng Ran was in no mood to argue or fight with her now.

She simply chose to ignore it.

After blocking Liang Shi’s number, Cheng Ran called her assistant to book a flight out of the country.

The city’s clamor gradually faded, and Cheng Ran fell asleep in the solitude.

//

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Liang Shi sat in the living room, spinning her phone.

Only a nightlight was on in the living room, making the large space feel empty.

But it was conducive to thinking.

She texted Cheng Ran, but she didn’t reply. Calling her resulted in a busy signal.

She guessed Cheng Ran had blocked her.

She had pretty much figured out the answer.

She didn’t even need to ask why.

For people like Cheng Ran, if the mood struck, they’d go to the point of ruining themselves, let alone others.

Take the incidents Huayue International suppressed every year; they were countless.

Although Zhao Xuning could threaten a low-level manager by saying she could use the media to expose Huayue International’s affairs—which would severely damage its reputation and potentially cost it hundreds of millions in market value overnight—the price of doing so would be huge.

The power of capital is sometimes unshakeable because pulling one string affects everything.

Liang Shi sought Cheng Ran out only to tell her that if there were any problems in the future, she should come directly to her.

She would see it through, but she should leave Xu Qingzhu alone.

Taking over the original host’s body also meant taking over her baggage.

She would have to bear the consequences of the chain reactions triggered by her own OOC behavior.

Liang Shi was mentally prepared for this.

The biggest trouble was that she was isolated here.

Like what happened tonight, she was too passive; she couldn’t do anything.

Standing in the corridor of Huayue International, she suddenly realized that in this environment, she couldn’t protect the people she wanted to protect.

She had just stepped into high society for the first time and realized that even the wealthy were stratified.

And in the face of truly powerful authority, money was secondary.

This was a world completely different from her previous life.

She was about to witness a reality more brutal than the entertainment industry.

She had always disliked involving others.

It made her feel guilty and remorseful.

Perhaps it was related to her childhood. She had never truly opened up and protected anyone wholeheartedly.

For her, self-preservation was already difficult.

In the cutthroat entertainment industry, she climbed from the bottom to an Oscar nomination.

It was partly due to her self-reliance.

It wasn’t that she lacked compassion or sympathy, but when you can barely save yourself, those concepts are meaningless.

She always knew her boundaries.

But with Xu Qingzhu, she had slightly lost her composure.

It might also be because she was new here and hadn’t adapted to the environment yet.

Liang Shi curled up on the sofa, deep in thought, then went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

Xu Qingzhu was fast asleep, and she didn’t want to squeeze onto the bed. She simply sat on the sofa, staring blankly, waiting until she felt sleepy before going upstairs.

Where she would sleep tonight was still a problem.

The carpet was new, but she hadn’t found a quilt.

Sleeping in the same bed as Xu Qingzhu was obviously impossible.

So, after much thought, the best place to rest was the living room sofa.

Just as she was mentally sorting through the events of the past few days, she heard a faint sound of the door opening.

She looked up and saw Xu Qingya emerging from her room.

She was wearing headphones and playing a game on her phone sideways. Perhaps afraid of disturbing them, she kept her voice low while talking to the person on the other end. “Go left, left, you idiot, you can’t even tell left from right.”

She walked toward the kitchen, but wasn’t looking and accidentally tripped on the step. Her pupils constricted instantly, but she still managed to suppress her cry. Fortunately, she didn’t fall completely, only stumbled. She winced in pain from scraping her foot.

She finally looked up and saw Liang Shi.

Liang Shi nodded at her.

Xu Qingya took off her headphones. “Sister Liang, you’re not asleep yet?”

“I’ll be sleeping soon,” Liang Shi finished the water in her glass, advising her, “You should go to bed early too.”

Xu Qingya blinked. “Oh.”

She walked toward the kitchen but turned back after a few steps, taking off her headphones. She said seriously and earnestly, “Sister Liang, I have a question.”

“What is it?” Liang Shi asked quietly.

“You’re married to my sister, right?” Xu Qingya asked.

Liang Shi nodded.

“The drug my sister took tonight was that kind. Clearly, all you two needed was to… you know, that thing… and the drug’s effect on her would be gone.” Xu Qingya spoke vaguely, but her meaning was clear. Liang Shi sometimes marveled at the magic of language.

Substituting sensitive words with euphemisms, yet both parties understood.

“But you called the family doctor instead,” Xu Qingya said. “Between the two of you, who has the problem?”

She stared straight at Liang Shi, as if trying to drill a hole through her.

“Logically, I shouldn’t be asking these things,” Xu Qingya shrugged. “You know I’m only a minor.”

Liang Shi: “…”

Do you even remember you’re a minor?

If she hadn’t said it, Liang Shi would have forgotten.

Xu Qingya was precociously frightening.

“Hey, Sister Liang, don’t look at me like that,” Xu Qingya said. “I haven’t dated, I just hear things. The thing is, Xu Qingzhu is very difficult. When she likes something, she never asks for it directly. If you give it to her, she’ll take it. But if you don’t give it to her, no matter how much she likes it, she won’t ask. Plus, she’s never dated. All these years at home, our whole family has been catering to her. So I’m wondering, is the conflict because you got to know her and understood her personality?”

Liang Shi immediately shook her head. “That’s not it.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me,” Xu Qingya said. “Actually, I don’t like Xu Qingzhu either. If you don’t like her, just tell me. We can badmouth her together.”

Liang Shi: “…?”

She suspected Xu Qingya was setting a trap.

Liang Shi said helplessly, “I don’t dislike your sister. It’s wrong to take advantage of her when she’s not thinking straight.”

Xu Qingya: “But you’re married! It’s legal.”

“Your sister would be uncomfortable,” Liang Shi said. “She was drunk, and then she was drugged. Letting the family doctor help her cool down and sleep properly was the best choice.”

Xu Qingya still sounded skeptical. “Fine.”

“Alright, you little adult,” Liang Shi smiled. “Your sister and I are doing fine. Your sister’s personality isn’t as difficult as you make it sound. She’s quite cute. Don’t always talk bad about her. If I hear it again, I might tell her.”

Xu Qingya rolled her eyes. “Go ahead. I’m not afraid of her.”

But she still hesitated. “You two are really fine?”

“We are,” Liang Shi’s smile was gentle, and even her eyes showed a hint of affection. “I’m extremely lucky to be married to your sister.”

Xu Qingya shivered. “That’s so cheesy.”

She pouted and walked toward the kitchen, waving her hand. “Sister Liang, go to bed early. I’m going to grab a drink and go to sleep too.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Liang Shi advised. “Drinking water before bed makes you swell easily.”

“Got it,” Xu Qingya put her headphones back on.

Liang Shi watched her retreating figure, feeling that this young girl wasn’t as bad as she initially thought.

She just had a bit of teenage rebellion.

She was sharp-tongued and tsundere (proud and unwilling to admit her true feelings).

A sharp contrast to Xu Qingzhu’s personality.

Liang Shi watched for a moment, then turned and went upstairs.

But as she took two steps, she heard Xu Qingya’s voice ring out in the living room.

“No, I won’t go back. I’ll worry about that after school starts.”

“Why am I staying here? Why are you asking? To monitor them!”

“I suspect my sister and her wife are in a contractual marriage. It’s so late, and my sister’s wife hasn’t gone back to the room.”

Liang Shi stumbled on the stairs, nearly falling.

She refused to believe Xu Qingya didn’t know she was there!

She clearly knew and said it on purpose, just so Liang Shi would hear.

Liang Shi: “…”

“I need to observe for a while,” Xu Qingya continued. “Anyway, our family is a total mess now. I need to make sure at least one person in the family can live well. Xu Qingzhu has ‘princess syndrome.’ I need to see if she has ‘princess fate.'”

“She probably doesn’t. I still think they’re in a contractual marriage.”

Liang Shi: “…?”

Was it that obvious?

Liang Shi walked upstairs to her room with heavy steps.

As the room door closed, Xu Qingya took off her headphones, glanced toward the second floor, and sent a text message to her mother: 【They went into the same room to sleep.】

//

The room was darker than the living room, with only a small bedside lamp on.

It was located near the balcony.

When she first entered, Liang Shi hadn’t adjusted to the dim light and nearly bumped her head on the wall.

She wasn’t the one who was drunk, but she felt slightly dizzy.

Xu Qingzhu was sound asleep, or perhaps in a deep, induced slumber.

The room was filled with her steady breathing.

She looked extremely docile when sleeping, showing none of the night’s earlier commotion.

Liang Shi sat on the edge of the bed for a while, then settled into the corner sofa.

She was tall with long legs; curling up on the sofa was miserable. She looked at Xu Qingzhu using the dim light.

She really wanted to ask the System: Hello? Are you there? Arrange a proper bed for me.

Unfortunately, there was no reply.

The System would never bother with her trivial matters.

But for Liang Shi, this was a huge matter.

She always required quality sleep. Even during late-night shoots, she would find time to sleep comfortably in a proper bed.

If there was no bed, she would rather not sleep.

She couldn’t sleep on the sofa. She got up again, tossing and turning several times, making her feel restless.

After a while, she turned on the dim yellow bedside lamp.

She pulled out a book from the bedside drawer—a poetry collection.

Judging by the reading marks, it seemed to belong to Xu Qingzhu.

The poems were entirely in English. Liang Shi couldn’t understand much; her English was only good for simple verbal communication.

Her agent had been forward-thinking, believing she might go international someday. To prevent her from being ridiculed for being uneducated when receiving international awards, the agent hired a tutor specifically to train her speaking skills.

Liang Shi flipped through a few pages and put the book back.

There was nothing in the room to entertain her, so she took out her phone, opened a video app, and randomly selected a movie.

She leaned against the headboard. The soft cushion was comfortable and relieved the exhaustion of her day.

She pushed the entire large double duvet over to Xu Qingzhu’s side. The bundled quilt clearly divided the bed into two distinct zones. The person on one side was sleeping soundly, while the person on the other side didn’t even have room to toss and turn.

But as long as Liang Shi could be somewhat comfortable, she wouldn’t feel so anxious.

The movie was an old one. Liang Shi realized that some of her favorite movies existed in this world. There were also many new films she had never heard of. The production of new films inevitably meant new celebrities, and Liang Shi didn’t recognize any of them.

She clearly recognized that this was not the entertainment industry of her world.

But starting anew in a different place was exciting.

Although she hadn’t gained control of her own body yet, Liang Shi was already looking forward to working in film again.

After all, having lived for so many years, acting was what gave her the most satisfaction and fulfilled her self-worth.

Thinking of this, she couldn’t help but look at Xu Qingzhu.

She thought: How can I conquer you?

The System’s original words were: Gain her goodwill, trust, and admiration.

That was a truly technically demanding task.

Achieving the first two points would be difficult enough.

But again, she would take things one step at a time.

Liang Shi never wasted today’s time worrying excessively about tomorrow’s issues.

The movie was a queer film, set before the ABO gender differentiation.

The first frame was black text on a white background: —Once, the world forbade us to love.

The second sentence: —But we insisted on embracing and kissing passionately in the crowd.

These two sentences alone stirred Liang Shi’s emotions. She lowered her eyes and watched quietly.

The movie told the story of two girls falling in love in college. One was a ballet student, the typical campus goddess—shining and dazzling, the object of affection for many boys in school. She participated in various competitions, winning awards easily. “Campus Beauty” was her label.

The other female lead, in contrast, seemed unremarkable. She was timid and self-conscious. Though pretty, she didn’t show her sharp edges and looked somewhat dowdy because she didn’t know how to dress. On the first day of school, the two moved into the same dorm and became roommates.

The self-conscious girl clumsily imitated the radiant one.

She wanted to live like her, to be popular like her.

But she was always outside the circle. Dorm gatherings always left her out. They left her behind when they went traveling.

They talked about clothes, bags, and makeup. She could only be a quiet observer.

When she mustered the courage to interject, she became a conversation killer. The previously cheerful atmosphere would suddenly cool down.

Gradually, she stopped trying to join those topics and kept to herself.

The brilliant, radiant girl was also isolated.

Because she was too outstanding, she was seen as trying to show off, out of sync with ordinary people, and became an object of collective dislike.

Their connection began with a song. Because they both loved it, they shared a meal together.

Gradually, their understanding of each other deepened. One was a dancer, and the other could play elegant piano music.

A unique tacit understanding developed between them. Going out, holding hands, linking arms, flirting with each other—they understood what the other needed with just a look.

The goddess rejected all her suitors and remained single.

This fueled rumors that they were a couple, and the goddess’s reason for not dating was her sexual orientation.

The rumors escalated. The self-conscious girl actively distanced herself, suppressing her inner feelings. She was melancholy during the day and sleepless at night, yet couldn’t help tracking the other girl’s movements: who she ate with, which classes she took, and who she met.

This strained relationship continued for months.

Until one day, on a public bus, the goddess was harassed. The self-conscious girl bravely stood up for the first time. She stood on the moral high ground, severely condemning the perpetrator, and held the goddess’s hand.

In that moment, their fingers intertwined.

It was the bravest moment of her life.

After getting off the bus, by the azure sea, the self-conscious girl mustered the courage to ask, “Can I kiss you?”

The film reached its climax here. It was a restrained yet intimate kiss.

The film’s color palette was comfortable. The kissing scene, set against this backdrop, had a sense of tragic grandeur. The two female leads had different looks: one was a bold beauty, the other had a pure look.

The pure one was overcome by an unknown desire, kissing with passionate abandon.

The seemingly intense one could only clumsily respond.

The kissing scene lasted two minutes. The live comments were going crazy.

Liang Shi found them distracting and turned off all comments.

To be a wet blanket, she wasn’t immersed in the characters’ emotions; she was observing the camera work.

As an actress, she knew how these kissing scenes were filmed.

With over a dozen cameras surrounding them and dozens of crew members present, for close-ups, the actor would kiss the camera. So, this kind of image didn’t form a strong stimulus for her.

The film’s pace quickened here. The kissing was followed by a fade-to-black intimate scene.

The director’s control over the camera for this section was so strong that Liang Shi briefly suspected he had started out filming soft-core pornography. Before this fade-to-black scene, she specifically looked him up and found he had not.

He had started out making serious documentaries, mostly about cultural relics. He suddenly changed careers midway and decided to shoot a movie. This was his first film after the switch.

She had to admit, the director was quite talented.

The fade-to-black scene was filmed to be both innocent and lustful.

Close-ups showed fingers fumbling with buttons. Nervous, passionate heartbeats and ragged breathing were focused on the second and third buttons of the shirt.

The female lead’s fingers were slender but clumsy when undoing the buttons, heightening the audience’s anticipation.

The other female lead, impatient with the slow movements, reached over to help her.

The moment their fingers touched, it triggered a new round of kissing.

Then the scene switched to distant light shots, with the camera pulling back, but the sounds from the receiver did not diminish.

These sounds were usually performed by professional voice actors, highly matched to the actors’ voices.

In such moments, the lack of a visual shot was more powerful than having one.

After the scene cut, there was a close-up of the characters. The two were tangled under one quilt—a very passionate sex scene.

Liang Shi was debating whether to skip this scene. Before her finger could reach the screen, a weak voice suddenly came from beside her. “Water…”

Xu Qingzhu was half-awake. Her throat was so dry she could barely speak. Even trying to say one word felt like sandpaper grinding her throat; it hurt badly.

She frowned. The physical pain hadn’t completely subsided.

Liang Shi immediately put down her phone and got up to get her water.

She then went to her side and helped her sit up to drink.

Xu Qingzhu was like a traveler in the desert, desperately dehydrated. Her hot, damp palm gently brushed the hand holding the water cup.

She drank the entire cup, gulping. Water droplets remained on the corners of her mouth.

The lips themselves were glossy from the water’s moisture.

It easily brought to mind a rippling seascape, shimmering as if bathed in the light of a setting sun—lustrous and glowing.

Even half-asleep, she politely whispered her thanks.

Liang Shi initially thought she would wipe the water from her mouth before going back to sleep, but it was clear she wasn’t conscious enough for that. She lay back down after drinking, but her palm still rested on the back of Liang Shi’s hand, gently pulling her down.

Liang Shi’s focus was elsewhere; her thoughts were wandering. She was pulled down effortlessly.

By the time Liang Shi realized what was happening, her ear was only a millimeter away from Xu Qingzhu’s face. It felt as if those moist lips would touch her ear any second.

Her ear could feel the warm humidity, like a gentle sea breeze.

The warm yellow light maximized the feeling of seduction.

It was like a light-infused trap. One wrong move, and she would fall in.

And falling into the light meant being quickly enveloped by gentle desire.

Liang Shi immediately sat up straight. She took a deep breath.

She gently pulled her hand free from Xu Qingzhu’s grip and used her hand to fan her own burning cheeks.

She had lived a life of such simple desires for so many years. How was it that after only a few days here, she was being teased into confusion?

It was like long-dormant desire had sensed spring and was impatiently fighting to break through the soil.

But she ruthlessly suppressed it.

Liang Shi put the water cup aside and glanced at Xu Qingzhu, who had fallen asleep again.

The moisture on the corner of her mouth still glistened. Liang Shi, being a person with compulsions about neatness, raised her hand to wipe it away.

Her thumb touched those red lips. The sensation of skin against skin instantly became real. Even though she tried to suppress her desires, biological instincts are hard to control. Liang Shi turned her face to look at her.

After a long time, she turned away, covering her face with her hand.

Her ears were already burning hot.

Liang Shi got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

It was genuinely hard to resist.

She came out of the shower feeling cool all over. After discarding all the messy thoughts in her mind, she felt slightly clearer.

She returned to the bedside, deliberately piling the entire quilt over to Xu Qingzhu’s side. The bundled quilt clearly divided the bed like a boundary. The person on one side was sound asleep, while the person on the other side didn’t even have room to turn over.

But having a place to rest somewhat comfortably made Liang Shi less anxious.

She resumed watching the movie.

However, the phone screen now showed two bodies entangled. In the world of this book, the censorship requirements for sexual content in films were not very strict. In fact, it proved that audiences enjoyed it, and well-shot scenes led to extremely high box office sales.

So, the film contained quite a few sexual scenes.

The scene she had seen earlier used an empty shot (a fade to black), switching directly to the city’s night view when the intimate scene began.

This was a common technique for directors shooting such content.

But this time, it was not an empty shot. The scene was explicitly filmed.

They were in a dim room, on a bed, their fingers resting on each other’s soft spots.

They stared at each other, gazing deeply…

“So hot…” Xu Qingzhu’s slightly suppressed voice came through.

It was more seductive than the climax of the passion in the movie.

Liang Shi immediately pulled the quilt over to her side a bit, and Xu Qingzhu half-opened her eyes, catching the scene on the screen.

It was probably the most passionate part of the movie.

The two female leads merged into one, reaching the deepest parts of each other’s souls.

Splashing sounds filled the room.

The voices of the two characters echoed throughout the room. They were gently calling each other’s names.

The names were whispered, spoken with the tips of their tongues, and their proximity meant they could hear the ahem whispered words clearly.

Liang Shi: “…”

She immediately flipped the phone face down.

But the sounds continued, paired with the seductive background music.

Anyone would get the wrong idea.

“I wasn’t…” Liang Shi instinctively tried to defend herself, but Xu Qingzhu smiled faintly. Her half-asleep voice was more alluring than the movie’s. She asked, “Is it nice?”

Liang Shi: “…It’s okay.”

She wasn’t good at lying.

And her mind had briefly short-circuited. She just went along with the question.

Xu Qingzhu simply said, “Finish watching and go to sleep early.”

Liang Shi: “…?”

That’s it?

Liang Shi thought she was fully awake and wanted to ask where her quilt was, but before she could speak, Xu Qingzhu turned over and resumed her steady breathing.

“?”

It was a false alarm.

But this was still incredibly embarrassing for Liang Shi.

Her usual image was that of a proper, Zen-like, ‘old official’ type—watching soft-core porn didn’t fit her persona.

Although she had… watched it before.

It was a normal biological need.

But being caught was a different story.

So, she immediately put her phone away.

Liang Shi lay there, thinking: How am I going to get through this long night?

Her body only rested on the edge of the bed. Although the bed was huge, she was still worried that Xu Qingzhu might move a lot in her sleep and roll over, so she left her plenty of space.

She was usually a very stable sleeper. She woke up in the exact spot she fell asleep.

Her mind was still racing, but she couldn’t fight off the natural urge to sleep.

Before she could even decide what to eat for breakfast tomorrow, she was already asleep.

//

The next morning.

Sunlight streamed into the room, spreading over the bed. It was a little harsh, and the glare woke Liang Shi up.

She picked up her phone and saw it was 8:20.

It was time to get up, but Xu Qingzhu was still asleep, seemingly trying to catch up on all the sleep she had missed.

Liang Shi was afraid the sunlight would bother her, so she got up and drew the curtains tight.

The room immediately plunged into darkness again.

Liang Shi always kept a good schedule.

If she wasn’t filming, she would wake up around 8 a.m., exercise a little, eat breakfast, then watch a movie or read a book. In the afternoon, she would sit on the balcony and have afternoon tea, spending a relaxed and pleasant day.

When she got up, no one was in the house. The common areas had already been cleaned by the servants and were spotless.

She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, took out bread from the refrigerator, and put an egg in the breakfast machine.

She planned to make a sandwich.

If conditions allowed, she always ate breakfast.

Just as she was busy in the kitchen, Xu Qingya’s voice suddenly rang out. “Sister Liang, you can cook?”

Liang Shi’s fried egg was perfectly medium-rare, still runny in the center. She turned around briefly. Xu Qingya’s hair was messy, and she paid no attention to her appearance. She yawned widely, reached for the bread, and took a bite before Liang Shi could speak.

“That’s cold,” Liang Shi said.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

Xu Qingya didn’t mind. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

Liang Shi: “…”

Okay.

“Where is my sister?” Xu Qingya asked. “Is she not awake yet?”

“Mmm,” Liang Shi said. “The doctor said last night that she might sleep for twenty-four hours.”

Xu Qingya shook her head. “She’s really a sleeping beauty.”

She played on her phone while chewing bread. After a while, she looked up and asked, “Sister Liang, what are you making? Can you make me one too? I’m a little hungry.”

Liang Shi replied without turning around, “A sandwich. It’ll be ready soon.”

She quickly finished making one and handed it to Xu Qingya, then started on her own portion.

Xu Qingya took a bite. She hadn’t expected much from Liang Shi’s cooking, mainly because a sandwich was like scrambled eggs with tomatoes—it’s hard to make it inedible, but it’s also hard to make it exceptionally delicious.

But as soon as the food touched her mouth, Xu Qingya was stunned.

She wasn’t sure at first, thinking it might be a trick of her hunger making the food taste exceptionally savory and delicious.

But she quickly ate two more bites. Only after swallowing it all did she say, “Sister Liang, did you really make this?”

Liang Shi smiled helplessly. “You’re sitting right here. How could I cheat?”

“No, this is too delicious,” Xu Qingya gave her a thumbs-up. “Your cooking could rival a five-star chef. What did you make it with? Why is the flavor so intense? It’s so savory I want to bite my tongue off.”

Liang Shi thought her praise was exaggerated.

Liang Shi was quite confident in her cooking skills, having worked in professional kitchens for many years, but such high praise felt overwhelming.

“Just a normal recipe,” Liang Shi said. “Fried egg, lettuce, cheese, tomato, and a little sauce.”

“It’s better than anything I’ve ever had,” Xu Qingya praised sincerely. “This makes me want to live here permanently.”

Liang Shi: “…”

Please don’t.

But she couldn’t say that honestly. She maintained a friendly façade. “You can stay. Stay as long as you like.”

She paused, then added a condition. “As long as your sister lets you.”

Xu Qingya: “Tsk.”

Liang Shi quickly finished her sandwich and sat down to chat with Xu Qingya.

Mostly, Xu Qingya chatted with her, and she responded.

Xu Qingya was a quite talkative young girl. Her eyes shone when she talked about idol culture.

She even mentioned her dream was to become an agent.

But after saying that, she grew silent for a moment, then said, “Forget it. I’ll change my dream.”

“Why?” Liang Shi asked, confused.

Xu Qingya sighed. “Sister Weiwei is an agent. She helped me get a lot of Chen Zhengxuan’s merchandise.”

Liang Shi understood her concern, but could only offer lukewarm comfort. “Not all agents are like that.”

However, it did remind her of Bai Weiwei and Zhao Xuning.

She hadn’t seen Zhao Xuning on the way after leaving with Xu Qingzhu last night, so she didn’t know how Zhao Xuning was doing.

Out of humanitarian concern, after finishing breakfast and putting the dishes in the dishwasher, Liang Shi sent a message to Zhao Xuning, asking about her situation.

After a long delay, Zhao Xuning replied: 【It’s alright.】

It was a rather perfunctory answer.

But Liang Shi had done her part.

She didn’t worry about it anymore.

In the morning, she had nothing to do, so she started looking up information about Dongheng Group, specifically the newly established Magazine Department.

Just as Liang Xinhe said, the Magazine Department was newly established. It hadn’t even published a single issue yet. It only had an official Weibo account, which hadn’t posted anything. It had ten thousand followers, which was likely bought.

Since nothing had been published, the information available online was pitifully sparse.

She looked up other digital publications, especially focusing on companies similar to Dongheng Group that had launched digital magazines, hoping to find some successful strategies.

In her research, she found that Haiwei Jewelry was the first in the industry to do this.

It was purely a jewelry company, yet it possessed advanced experience. It not only launched a digital publication but also established a leading domestic fashion magazine: Pearl.

In this era where print media was declining and becoming a sunset industry—with many major magazines shutting down and the rest operating at a loss or sustained by pure passion—Pearl found a niche, focusing heavily on feminism and inviting famous domestic writers to write its opening columns.

The copywriting content in a fashion magazine is typically minimal, but every piece in every issue of theirs was profound.

In the context of the new media era, this translated to millions of views easily.

But their magazine and digital publication were managed separately, with completely non-overlapping content.

This was precisely why the digital publication hadn’t cannibalized the magazine’s sales.

The team that created the magazine was not from the magazine industry; they were from the fashion industry, designers, and even web novel writers.

Thus, the industry appraisal of Pearl magazine was: A group of third-rate people running a first-rate magazine.

Liang Shi integrated all the information. It was noon by the time she finished.

The housekeeper asked if they should prepare lunch. She was mentally going through menu ideas when she received a call from Liang Xinhe.

She answered, greeting him politely. “Second Brother.”

“Where are you?” Liang Xinhe asked.

Liang Shi thought he was checking up on her and answered obediently, “At home.”

“Chuanlan Villa?”

“Yes.”

“What are you still doing there?” Liang Xinhe’s tone was already impatient. “Liang Shi, I really thought you were turning over a new leaf, but you’re still like this? It’s one thing to mess around outside, but now you don’t even care about this family? Are you trying to cut ties with the Liang family?”

Liang Shi: “…?”

“That’s enough. How are you talking to A-Shi?” A gentle female voice cut in. “You’re clearly worried about A-Shi and want to see her, but you use such sharp words. With that attitude, you end up fighting after just a few sentences.”

Liang Shi guessed this was her Second Sister-in-law.

In the original book, the Second Sister-in-law didn’t have a major role.

But she was characterized as a very positive person.

When the original host was at her most desperate, she even gave her a sum of money, but the original host quickly gambled it away.

Leading to her later targeting her daughter.

Liang Shi didn’t know more than that.

After all, she hadn’t read and memorized the whole novel before transmigrating.

“A-Shi.” The Second Sister-in-law took the phone. “You’re coming back to the old family residence today, aren’t you? Remember to bring your wife.”

“Second Sister-in-law.” Liang Shi’s attitude was excellent. “Bamboo is sick. She can’t come back.”

“Is it serious?” the Second Sister-in-law asked worriedly. “Then you stay home and take care of her. It’s fine. I’ll talk to Mom about it.”

“How can you spoil her like that?” Liang Xinhe took the phone back. “Liang Shi, you need to come back today no matter what. What did you tell me last week? You said you’d come back to the old residence even if it was raining knives outside. Did you forget your own words?”

Liang Shi: “…”

Those were the original host’s words.

Forget it.

It’s her now, anyway.

“It’s Big Brother’s birthday today. You won’t even come home for a meal? Why don’t you just change your surname?” Liang Xinhe finished impatiently, then hung up.