Chapter 87: Still Want to Play?

“Continue,” Ling Ziheng signaled for the game to proceed.

Still playing? Mei Ning was so startled her expression shifted, thinking, Boss, just how long are you going to torment us?

Everyone seemed distracted, except Ling Ziheng, who was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Only now did Lin Zhiwei realize how unfriendly this game was to her; clearly, Ling Ziheng was out for revenge. She was about to call a halt to the game, but Ling Ziheng insisted on continuing, and a sense of foreboding welled up inside her.

This round, Ling Ziheng lost even faster than before. “Truth,” he said.

Now, whenever Mei Ning heard those three words, it was like a death sentence. She immediately pulled out a question—after last round, it seemed the boss wasn’t too opposed, so she got a bit bolder. “Um, have you confessed to anyone lately? How did they respond?”

Oh, come on, Lin Zhiwei cursed inwardly, glaring at Mei Ning. What luck! When the others played, they got questions about favorite foods and movies—normal things. Yet every time Ling Ziheng played, the questions dug deep into emotional territory.

Lin Zhiwei squinted at Ling Ziheng, lips pressed tight, uncertain how the ticking time bomb beside her would answer, silently hoping he wouldn’t make things difficult for her.

Ling Ziheng replied, “Yes, she said I’d have to wait until I passed her assessment.”

…

All four, including Yin Mi’er, seemed frozen—this answer was explosive. The movie king confessing was already earth-shattering, but even more unbelievable was that the other party said he’d have to wait for her evaluation.

So… Ling was essentially… a backup?

Who on earth was this celestial being who could keep the film emperor so tightly in her grasp, and from the look of it, he was all too willing.

Mei Ning dropped her water bottle in shock. It bounced off Xiaoyu, who jumped, bumping into Yin Mi’er, who in turn lost her balance and fell toward Lin Zhiwei.

Fortunately, Lin Zhiwei was quick and steadied Yin Mi’er. Yin Mi’er blushed as she got up—she had been so close to Lin Zhiwei, nearly pressed together, yet Lin Zhiwei was gentlemanly, holding her shoulder without touching anywhere else. Gratitude and a flutter of excitement stirred in her heart.

Zhao Lei shielded his eyes, unwilling to witness the chaos, but his mind was clear: so Director Lin even set a probationary period—the road to wooing her was truly long. His boss wasn’t going to have it easy.

Lin Zhiwei, maintaining a gentlemanly air in front of Yin Mi’er, smoothed the stray hair on her forehead, about to speak when Ling Ziheng cut in, “Let’s continue.”

“Ah… alright, continue,” Mei Ning repeated mechanically, obedient as a puppet, though after these rounds, curiosity gnawed at her, eager to learn more.

As expected, Ling Ziheng lost again. Mei Ning thought her luck couldn’t possibly be this bad, surely she’d draw a normal question this time.

Xiaoyu anxiously waited. When the question appeared, she rubbed her forehead—Mei Ning really should buy a lottery ticket—and patted Mei Ning’s shoulder in encouragement.

“Haha,” Mei Ning laughed awkwardly, giving herself a thumbs-up. “Well… say something to the one you love.”

She breathed a sigh of relief; it wasn’t so terrifying—just a sentence. After these rounds, it felt as though they were witnessing Ling’s recent love life firsthand.

Ling Ziheng paused when he heard the question, then regained composure, smiling gently—what a fine question.

Lin Zhiwei avoided his burning gaze. Damn Mei Ning, her luck really deserved a prize…

“There’s a beauty I cannot forget; a day without her, I am mad with longing.”

Ling Ziheng recited softly, his eyes unabashedly fixed on Lin Zhiwei, his gaze brimming with affection and devotion, “Director Lin, what do you think?”

His eyes danced with light, lips gently parting to utter those words, casting the four bystanders aside.

Mei Ning and Xiaoyu felt their minds disconnect in the span of a few minutes, unable to keep up with their boss’s plot, yet perhaps understanding something at last.

Zhao Lei showed no surprise, as if he’d expected all this, his gaze shifting between Ling Ziheng and Lin Zhiwei.

Yin Mi’er, meanwhile, was so stunned she couldn’t recover, her thoughts lagging—could it really be, as the rumors said, that the film emperor… liked men?

And apparently the target was… Director Lin?

All five turned their eyes to Lin Zhiwei, awaiting her reply.

Lin Zhiwei felt like a frightened bird, inwardly complaining—Ling Ziheng, this isn’t fair play. How was she supposed to smooth things over now? Someone help!

“Nice words,” she managed after a long pause.

Mei Ning and Xiaoyu let out a half-relieved breath. The boss had been so obvious, yet Director Lin… your answer was so—so unimaginative.

“I’m going to the restroom…” Mei Ning quickly signaled to the others, seizing the chance to make her escape.

“Me too…” Xiaoyu hauled Yin Mi’er away with her.

Zhao Lei didn’t say a word, quietly retreating.

Now only Lin Zhiwei and Ling Ziheng remained.

They ran so fast, Lin Zhiwei grumbled inwardly, after all the snacks she’d bought them.

“Shall we keep playing?” Ling Ziheng’s voice tempted her from just beside her ear.

Lin Zhiwei sensed trouble and tried to rise, subconsciously wanting to flee, but was pulled into a warm embrace, meeting those enchanting eyes. “Heartless girl.”

“I’m heartless?” Lin Zhiwei protested, struggling, “How am I supposed to show my face in the studio now?”

Ling Ziheng didn’t care at all, bending close to the restless girl, his lips brushing her ear. “Weiwei, I miss you so much.”

Lin Zhiwei was at her wit’s end—wasn’t there anyone who could deal with this seductive man? He knew her resolve was weak, yet kept tempting her; his words were like the siren song luring sailors to their doom, irresistible.

“But… the walls here are glass. If someone sees us, it’ll be a disaster,” Lin Zhiwei tried to escape.

Ling Ziheng replied, “Then let’s make it public.”

A flush crept across Lin Zhiwei’s face.

Ling Ziheng saw the little girl’s scowling, fiery expression, sensed her displeasure, and let her go. He’d finally gotten a chance to hold her, earned by playing the game, and now had to relinquish it.

“Can my words earn me some points?” The deep affection in Ling Ziheng’s eyes made Lin Zhiwei flustered. She responded instinctively, “Barely ten percent.”

Only ten percent—heh, the little girl was truly hard to please. That meant there was still ninety percent left to strive for.

Ling Ziheng gazed with indulgence at her nervous figure, ruffling her hair. She always stirred his heart so easily, swaying his emotions without even realizing it, and he had no control over her—she was like the wind, drifting wherever she pleased.

“Also, the first time you met me, you said I was ugly. That was quite the lie, wasn’t it?” Lin Zhiwei shot him a glance.