14 Oil-paper Umbrellas

Wang Zhenfeng shook her head. “There’s another classmate of mine too.”

Hearing there was someone else, Su Qingyi relaxed slightly. “Alright, but I don’t know much about short videos—you’ll have to teach me.”

“No worries, you just stand there. I’ll handle the rest.”

“You want me to be on camera?” Su Qingyi was a bit taken aback and quickly waved her hand. “That won’t do.”

“Why not?” Wang Zhenfeng asked, puzzled.

“No reason,” Su Qingyi hesitated briefly, half-joking, half-serious. “I have too many enemies outside. I’m afraid your account won’t even get started before it gets taken down.”

That left Wang Zhenfeng dumbfounded. “Did you owe someone money, or did you steal someone’s boyfriend?”

Otherwise, why would they be after you like that?

Su Qingyi frowned slightly.

Wearing an expression as if she couldn’t understand what was going on in Su Qingyi’s mind, Wang Zhenfeng couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. “Can you wish me some good luck for once?”

“Then tell me what’s really going on.”

There wasn’t much to say. When Su Qingyi was exposing Pei Ling in the Pei family, online users were also targeting Pei Ling’s new rising star in the entertainment industry—the so-called “white moonlight” rival, known as “Zhi San Dang San.” Although Su Qingyi never uttered a word about that girl online, the girl’s fans still saw Su Qingyi as the main culprit, convinced that all the negative news and trending topics about their idol were bought by Su Qingyi.

Su Qingyi thought those fans were overestimating her abilities.

If she had that kind of power, she wouldn’t have been stuck in the Pei family for three years without being able to lift her head.

In brief, she said, “I never owe anyone; it’s always others who owe me.”

“Then if others owe you, why do you…”

“Because that doesn’t stop others from throwing dirt on you.” Su Qingyi looked Wang Zhenfeng straight in the eye, a rare serious look crossing her face.

Wang Zhenfeng still didn’t get it, frowning slightly. “If it’s dirt, why not just throw it back?”

“Some things can’t be solved by throwing it back, because those who wrong you know better how unjust you are—but they don’t want your innocence; they want to stain you as much as possible.”

When she said this, Su Qingyi’s eyes flashed with a profound meaning.

Her once bright face was suddenly cold and filled with bitterness, sending a chill through the air. But it was fleeting. She quickly returned to her previous warm and kind demeanor, smiling as she patted Wang Zhenfeng’s shoulder. “When you grow up a bit more, you’ll realize this world is never just black or white. The adult world doesn’t distinguish right from wrong.”

“Then what does it distinguish?”

Su Qingyi smiled but didn’t answer.

That question was still too early for Wang Zhenfeng. So she steered the conversation back to the beginning. “If you want me to help film, edit, or light, that’s fine, but I can’t be on camera.”

“But right now, I really need someone to appear on camera,” Wang Zhenfeng said, knowing she was putting her in a tough spot, hesitating slightly. “Could you film without showing your face?”

Su Qingyi studied her cautiously hopeful expression.

In the end, she relented. “Alright, how do you want to shoot it?”

Seeing her agree, Wang Zhenfeng brightened considerably and explained her filming plan and the account’s theme. After a moment’s thought, Su Qingyi pulled a dark green qipao from the wardrobe.

At first, Wang Zhenfeng thought the dress looked old-fashioned and complained, wanting her to change.

But only after Su Qingyi put it on did she truly understand the beauty of traditional Chinese style.

The dark green satin was adorned with bamboo leaf patterns. The side’s intricate frog buttons were fastened tightly up to the collar. Though every part was fully covered, her figure—curved front and back, slender waist, long legs—was unmistakably visible.

She always knew Su Qingyi was beautiful, but she didn’t realize just how stunning she could be.

Especially when Su Qingyi bent down to put on her shoes, even Wang Zhenfeng felt her face flush, too embarrassed to look any longer.

She immediately understood why Su Qingyi could win over Brother Jiang.

Unaware of Wang Zhenfeng’s thoughts, Su Qingyi changed into ivory-colored high heels, then sat at the dressing table to apply light makeup. Finally, she pinned a lock of her black hair at the back with a hand-carved green sandalwood hairpin.

Her entire appearance was both dignified and radiant.

Knowing Wang Zhenfeng mainly wanted to shoot the wooden hairpin, Su Qingyi didn’t wear any other accessories. After roughly styling her hair, she turned to look at Wang Zhenfeng sitting on the bed. “Is this okay?”

It was Su Qingyi’s first time wearing makeup since returning. Wang Zhenfeng was momentarily stunned.

Though it was a simple look, it perfectly highlighted Su Qingyi’s cool and radiant features—every smile and frown was enchanting and captivating.

Yet her eyes remained cold.

They bore the aloof grace of a celestial visitor.

Wang Zhenfeng stared at her blankly, thinking if there were such a fairy in this world, this must be it.

But as soon as Su Qingyi spoke, the fairy was tainted with earthly dust, her voice laced with familiar teasing. “What are you staring at so intently for?”

What else could she be looking at?

Wang Zhenfeng suddenly snapped back to reality, seeing the mischievous understanding in her eyes, unable to utter any compliments.

She responded softly and turned to walk downstairs.

Su Qingyi didn’t make things difficult for her, grabbed a shawl, and stepped out.

When they left, the other classmate Wang Zhenfeng had invited had already arrived—a boy about her age. Su Qingyi felt he looked familiar but couldn’t recall where she had seen him.

The boy sat with one foot on a bicycle pedal, his face full of impatience and slackened expression.

He barely nodded at Su Qingyi before looking away.

Wang Zhenfeng showed no tolerance and kicked him. “What are you pretending for? You’re just here to help with the lighting, but you act like I asked you for some big favor.”

“Pretending? Wang Zhenfeng! Don’t push your luck!” The boy was visibly annoyed, rubbing his leg and shouting, “Do you know someone asked me to play in a match today? If they find out I skipped for you to shoot a short video, I really… can’t lose face like this.”

“Can’t lose face like this—” Wang Zhenfeng repeated the phrase through gritted teeth and lunged at the electric bike handlebar.

The boy didn’t back down, grabbing her wrist, and they struggled briefly.

Su Qingyi, wrapped in her shawl, stood aside, feeling the phrase was familiar. Suddenly, she recalled who she had said it to before and where she had seen the boy.

At the temple last time.

Wang Zhenfeng had asked him on behalf of Xiao Lan what kind of girl Jiang Jingye liked.

Su Qingyi spoke up, “Has Jiang Jingye come back yet?”

Chu Shen was startled by her voice, then confirmed after a moment that she was asking him. He answered truthfully, “Not yet.”

Su Qingyi lowered her gaze thoughtfully, saying nothing more. She mounted the electric bike parked by the door and said, “A Feng, let’s go.”

“I told you, call me Wang Chaoyan outside!” Wang Zhenfeng released Chu Shen and noisily sat on the back of the bike.

Chu Shen followed behind her, “How do you know my brother?”

Su Qingyi glanced at him coolly. “We were middle school classmates.”

“Middle school classmates?” Chu Shen found it hard to believe. “But I’ve never heard my brother mention you…”

That wasn’t right.

Not only had he never mentioned her, he hadn’t mentioned anyone else either. Even during family meals, he seldom spoke, giving off a mysterious and unapproachable vibe.

Though he and Jiang Jingye lived under the same roof, they hardly knew each other.

He seemed disinterested in most things in the world, often sitting alone under the tree in the courtyard, lost in thought.

Realizing he might have spoken out of turn, Chu Shen sulked and fell silent.

Su Qingyi didn’t press further.

She couldn’t help but wonder when this person would finally come back.

In the misty, rainy Jiangnan region in April, rain began to fall halfway through filming. Chu Shen wanted to leave, but Wang Zhenfeng dragged him back. They found an umbrella and continued shooting.

The location was at the junction of the West and East markets, with few tourists. Passersby couldn’t help but turn around and stare. Some boys even came over during breaks to ask Su Qingyi for her contact information, but she politely declined each time.

Eventually, the rain grew heavier, the camera lens covered in droplets, and filming had to pause.

The three of them took shelter in front of a closed teahouse.

Su Qingyi gazed silently at the rain chimes hanging under the eaves, lost in thought.

Not far away, someone stood on the antique stone steps, holding an umbrella and watching her. His handsome, cold face showed no emotion, as detached and indifferent as ever.

The people behind him, seeing him stop abruptly, followed his gaze.

They saw a woman in a green qipao standing beneath the dripping black-tiled roof. The oil-paper umbrella resting on her shoulder concealed her face, but her graceful figure and the frequent glances from passersby betrayed her beauty.

They instinctively bent down and tilted their heads, trying to see her face clearly.

Unexpectedly, they bumped into Lu Jingchen standing in front of them.

Lu Jingchen turned his head and glanced at him coldly.

Knowing Lu Jingchen disliked physical contact, he quickly straightened up. “Sorry, Director Jiang.”

Lu Jingchen’s eyelids drooped slightly as he continued climbing the steps. “No need to call me that. I’m only here helping someone.”

The people behind him hurriedly responded and followed him upstairs.

At that moment, the woman under the umbrella seemed to sense something. She suddenly looked up, while the people on the stone steps folded their umbrellas and lowered their heads, heading toward the teahouse on the rooftop.

A string of dark Buddhist beads hung from the collar of his plain shirt.

Even with his head bowed, his slender back remained upright.

Su Qingyi quietly watched the closed door.

Lost in thought, she didn’t know what she was contemplating.

Meanwhile, Wang Zhenfeng had finished editing a video. Though Chu Shen didn’t understand short videos, he thought she edited too quickly.

Yet he couldn’t find a fault; Su Qingyi’s strict condition was clear—just a silhouette was enough to captivate.

“The rain probably won’t stop. Let’s go eat first,” Su Qingyi said, initially wanting to leave but seeing the two kids beside her and changing her mind.

“Okay.” Before she finished speaking, Wang Zhenfeng had already sent out the video. Chu Shen couldn’t help but complain, “Wang Zhenfeng, you’re so…”

Sloppy, he thought.