Chapter 12: Text Message
[You’d better not get smug. Your good days are coming to an end.]
That evening, Jiang Yu was sitting on the balcony, enjoying the sea breeze and the view, eating ice-cold watermelon and scrolling through gossip news on his tablet. Just as he was feeling perfectly at ease, a text message shattered the tranquility.
These days, with WeChat being so convenient, hardly anyone used SMS anymore. And since one phone number was tied to one ID, anyone trying to do something shady could easily be tracked down.
Yet this person had brazenly sent him a text from a perfectly normal phone number. Who could be so arrogant?
On the tablet, a piece of news popped up at just the right moment:
[Ji Xu stated: He did not participate in Director Wang Hao’s film, so his name does not appear on the cast list. Claims that he was replaced are rumors.]
Jiang Yu narrowed his eyes slightly. It seemed he already had a suspect in mind.
He took a screenshot of the text message and sent it to Han Cheng on WeChat. Opening a voice message, he said in an affected, coquettish tone, “Brother Han, someone wants to hurt me. I’m scared. Can you help me check who’s trying to scare me, okay?”
In the office, Han Cheng opened the voice message. Jiang Yu’s sticky-sweet voice played, making Han Cheng frown in disgust—goosebumps rising all over.
The male secretary across from him stared at his nose, then his heart, quietly rubbing his arms to calm the hair standing on end.
Han Cheng glanced at the screenshot. The number looked somewhat familiar. He opened his contacts, typed it in—and found it was an unfamiliar number, not the person he’d been thinking of.
He forwarded the screenshot to his secretary and said, “Go check whose number this is.”
“Yes.” The secretary confirmed receipt and, at Han Cheng’s you may get lost now look, didn’t dare linger for even a second before scurrying out.
On the balcony, Han Cheng’s reply came quickly. Jiang Yu opened the voice message. Han Cheng’s low voice carried a hint of ambiguity:
“Getting someone to do you a favor isn’t as simple as acting cute. Wait for me tonight—I’ll deal with you properly when I get home.”
Jiang Yu’s face stiffened. He rubbed his waist, which no longer hurt, rolled his eyes skyward, and thought bitterly that he should’ve just asked Wang Huan to investigate. He really shouldn’t have provoked that dog of a man.
“Mr. Jiang, Mr. Han said he’ll be home for dinner tonight. I’m going out to buy groceries—do you want me to pick anything up?” Aunt Chen called loudly from the first floor when she spotted Jiang Yu on the second-floor balcony.
“Buy some laxatives,” Jiang Yu said on a whim.
Better for Han Cheng to spend the night on the toilet than spend the night tormenting him.
“Why buy laxatives? Are you constipated? Constipation needs a hospital visit—you can’t just take medicine casually!” Aunt Chen exclaimed in shock, her voice very loud.
Jiang Yu nervously glanced around. The neighboring villas weren’t that close, but not that far either. He was truly defeated by Aunt Chen’s big mouth and hurriedly waved his hands to stop her from worrying any further.
“No need! I was just joking! I don’t need anything—Aunt Chen, please go quickly, don’t delay making dinner!”
“Are you really not constipated?” Aunt Chen still wasn’t reassured and shouted one more question.
“I’m fine, I’m fine! I’ve eaten so much watermelon—even if I get diarrhea, I won’t be constipated!” Jiang Yu was on the verge of tears, waving his arms until they were almost numb, urging Aunt Chen to leave.
Aunt Chen finally left, still worried. Jiang Yu let out a breath of relief, sat down, glanced at the remaining piece of watermelon on the table, picked it up, and stuffed it into his mouth.
If Han Cheng didn’t get diarrhea, then he would.
Han Cheng came back at eight in the evening. Aunt Chen had cooked several dishes, and Jiang Yu, intent on tormenting his own stomach, didn’t hold back at dinner either.
Watching Jiang Yu eat mouthful after mouthful of napa cabbage stewed with tofu, Han Cheng smiled and asked, “Don’t you dislike cabbage? Why are you eating so much today?”
Napa cabbage stewed with tofu was Han Cheng’s favorite. He liked vegetables, while Jiang Yu was a die-hard meat lover—their tastes couldn’t have been more different.
“Every now and then it’s actually pretty good,” Jiang Yu said, letting out a satisfied burp. He really had eaten too much. Putting down his chopsticks, he changed the subject. “So, did you find out whose phone number that was?”
“It belongs to a young girl named Bai Jiayuan. She’s in her third year of high school. She’s at school now and not allowed to bring her phone. That text message was sent by someone who spoofed her number. As for who exactly, I’m still investigating. Don’t worry. I’ll definitely find the real culprit and avenge you.”
“Oh.” Jiang Yu wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, he had already expected that nothing concrete would be found. This only made him more certain that the text had been sent by Ji Xu.
If he wanted to cover for someone, he could’ve just said he hadn’t found anything. Why come up with such a clumsy excuse? Bai Jiayuan—he’d never even heard of her.
After dinner, Jiang Yu dragged Han Cheng to watch TV for a while. He waited and waited, but his stomach stayed completely quiet, with no urge to use the bathroom at all.
In the end, he was still pressed down and tormented by Han Cheng all night.
When Jiang Yu woke up the next day, it was already nine in the morning. Han Cheng had left early, but two unexpected visitors had already been waiting for quite some time.
“Brother Yu, how’s your waist?” In just a few days, Meng Yi seemed to have gained a touch of world-weariness. The twenty-year-old looked exhausted, not in great shape, and there was guilt and fear in his eyes when he looked at Jiang Yu.
“Thanks to your ointment, it didn’t hurt much and has mostly healed,” Jiang Yu said. He could understand the guilt, but he didn’t understand what Meng Yi was afraid of.
“Knowing you like shrimp, Meng Yi went to the seaside and bought two big fresh lobsters straight from a fishing boat—still alive and kicking. We almost got pinched,” Sister Bai said with a fake, overly enthusiastic smile, suddenly much more polite to Jiang Yu than before.
In the past, whenever she saw him, her opening line was always to scold him for lacking ambition, tearing into him before getting down to business.
But today, Sister Bai was being far too courteous, with a hint of ingratiation and caution.
Why did both of them seem so afraid of him?
Jiang Yu thought back on what he’d been doing lately—eating, sleeping, sleeping, eating, and gaining five pounds. Could it be that he’d gotten fat enough to scare them?
Jiang Yu wasn’t someone who liked overthinking. When he had doubts, he asked directly. “You two seem really afraid of me. I know you schemed against me, but whether you got the second male lead really didn’t have much to do with me—it was something you fought for yourself. And you didn’t need to buy lobsters to curry favor. Those things are expensive, aren’t they?”
Meng Yi seemed to recall something unpleasant and frowned in pain.
Jiang Yu pressed his lips together. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up—he knew that kind of pain himself.
“That’s not why,” Sister Bai said, seeing the silence and stepping in to explain. “You know Ji Xu’s role got cut, right?”
“I know. What happened to him? Who did he offend?” Jiang Yu’s interest was immediately piqued, and he asked eagerly, hungry for gossip.
“Who else could it be? You can’t guess?” Sister Bai didn’t say it outright and even rolled her eyes.
Jiang Yu started guessing with enthusiasm. “Could it be Wang Hao?”
“It’s just a second male lead’s assistant, with only a few scenes in total. Director Wang doesn’t have time to worry about who plays such a minor role.”
Sister Bai waved her hand dismissively, then suddenly became animated as she added, “Besides, Ji Xu was personally shoved in by President Han. If he got replaced, who do you think replaced him?”
Han Cheng? She emphasized the words President Han so heavily that the hint was obvious—but Jiang Yu still felt it was impossible.
That was his first love, his white moonlight. How could Han Cheng possibly stop Ji Xu from acting in Wang Hao’s film?
“Could it be that Ji Xu himself didn’t want to act anymore?” Jiang Yu felt that was more likely.
“How is that possible! Back then, just to get a role, he went out of his way to seduce President Han. Originally, he wanted to play the second male lead, but President Han didn’t give it to him.
“That second male lead role was something President Han reserved for you. You were the one who didn’t fight for it and actually turned it down. What a great chance to explode in popularity…” Sister Bai finally returned to her usual self, and as she talked, she began scolding Jiang Yu again.
This sharp-tongued Sister Bai was the one Jiang Yu was familiar with. He didn’t interrupt her. After she’d berated him for a while, she suddenly seemed to remember something and abruptly fell silent, looking at Jiang Yu cautiously, afraid he might get angry.
Jiang Yu raised an eyebrow. “So what does you being afraid of me have to do with Ji Xu not acting anymore?”
“How can you be this slow? Ji Xu must’ve offended you somehow, so President Han pulled his role. I heard it with my own ears—he went to President Han crying about it.
“I vaguely heard him say something about not meaning to deceive you, that he only lied because he loved President Han too much, and that he lied to you about being special in President Han’s heart. What did he lie to you about? In what way was he ‘special’?”
Sister Bai suddenly switched into full gossip mode.
