Chapter 76

Wu Yuchen felt a bit frustrated—life before mobile phones was just too inconvenient!

Leaving a letter and disappearing like this was truly a hallmark of this era, leaving him no chance to speak up.

Ask him—if he were Li Yunlong, would he choose Xiuqin or Tian Yu?

He’d definitely want both!

Wu Yuchen didn’t deny this thought was pretty much a jerk move, but a graceful lady is what a gentleman pursues!

In his past life, he’d seen too many wild scenes in the entertainment circle—fake marriages, living separate lives, even raising kids for powerful men—he was numb to it all.

It’s not that there weren’t people in entertainment who lived quietly, but in this world of fame and fortune, the temptations were endless, so chaos far outweighed that of any other industry.

Wu Yuchen had no intention of chasing dozens or hundreds of women a year, sleeping with a new one every night—but he didn’t want to miss someone like Ceng Li, who made him feel such a perfect fit.

He wouldn’t let go out of pretense or shyness, unless she genuinely hated him—then he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

But from the letter Ceng Li left him, Wu Yuchen could tell she still liked him deeply—she just felt heartbroken upon discovering Jiang Qin’s existence and decided to give up quietly.

Since both of them had feelings, he absolutely had to win her back.

As for which woman he’d marry if there were too many?

Why get married at all?!

Would marriage give him another child or another apartment? A certificate meant nothing to him.

In his past life, Ceng Li never married either—she’d said outright in interviews that the certificate was just a formality, utterly meaningless.

Look at that mindset—it’s completely in sync with Wu Yuchen’s!

Wu Yuchen walked to the door and tossed his cigarettes and lighter straight into the trash.

He’d briefly been moved and slipped into his past habits, wanting a smoke—but this body had never touched tobacco, and it felt awful; he’d never touch it again.

He patted his phone and the letter in his hand, thought for a moment, and decided: since everyone in this era still wrote letters, he’d write too!

He pulled out his phone and dialed Ceng Li’s home number; after a few rings, it was answered by a girl’s voice:

“Hello?”

Wu Yuchen remembered Ceng Li had mentioned a younger sister—he thought quickly and said:

“Hello, may I speak with Miss Ceng Li’s household?”

“Yes, but she’s not home.”

“This is the Beijing Post Office—she sent something back, but the address she wrote is smudged. Could you please give me the full address again?”

“Oh, okay. Jingmen, Shashi, XXXX…” Ceng Li’s sister didn’t suspect a thing and recited the address clearly.

“Thanks a lot!”

Wu Yuchen hung up with a smile—now that he had the address, he’d send her a letter every day.

Writing love letters? He might not have his father’s literary flair, but he could handle this easily—he’d lived through the information explosion era, so Wang Jia-wei style, Cangyang Jiacuo style poems? He could whip them out anytime.

They say if you work hard enough, even an iron rod can be ground into a needle—but no, he wouldn’t grind it into a needle.

They say a good woman can’t resist a persistent man—but wait, why was there never a good saying about this?

Wu Yuchen grumbled to himself and headed back.

Ceng Li got home the next day; seeing her sister exhausted and pale, Ceng Yu rushed to meet her.

“Sis, let me carry that for you!” Ceng Yu reached for the thermos in her sister’s hand.

Ceng Li stepped aside: “No need. Why aren’t you in class today?”

“Sis, you’re confused—it’s the weekend!”

Ceng Li slapped her forehead—she’d even forgotten the date.

“Sis, didn’t you send something? Why didn’t you just mail this thermos back?” Ceng Yu asked curiously.

“I sent something?”

“Yeah! Yesterday, someone from Beijing Post called to confirm our address!”

Ceng Li frowned—could it be the Central Drama Academy sending her materials?

“Who called you? What exactly did they say? You didn’t get scammed, did you?”

Ceng Yu bristled:

“No way! They asked right away if this was Ceng Li’s house—said they were looking for you! Said your mailing address was smudged and they needed to confirm!”

Ceng Li now realized something was off—she’d never filled out any mailing form. She was about to say her sister had been tricked, when something occurred to her:

“What time did you get the call? What did the voice sound like?”

“Around ten yesterday morning. Sounded like a young guy.”

Ceng Li’s heart stirred—was this the same time she’d sent Wu Yuchen that message half an hour ago? Could it be him?

She shook her head quickly—no, right now she needed to focus on studying.

She’d entered the Opera Academy right after elementary school, so her academic subjects were seriously lacking—she’d have to catch up, or she might not pass the college entrance exam. She’d need help from her younger sister Ceng Yu, who’d just started high school.

A few days later, Ceng Li received a letter from Beijing from the postman.

“

Dear Lizi:

Are you well in that distant city?

Since you left, many things at home have been sad—I have to comfort them every night just to sleep.

…

Wu Yuchen, who loves pears.”

Ceng Li’s heart twisted—sweet and sour. She was glad he still thought of her, but troubled by what he truly meant—wasn’t he already dating someone?

The next day, the same courier delivered another letter.

“…

Someone told me everything expires.

If memories of being with you were a can of food, I hope they never expire.

If I must add a date, I hope it’s ‘ten thousand years.’

…”

“…

November 13, 1995, I met the person I love. But she seems to have forgotten me.

…”

Two weeks later, even the postman understood—it was clearly a daily love letter, how sweet young love was!

Not just the postman—even Ceng Li’s mother, who’d seen the letters a few times, grew suspicious and asked Ceng Li why someone was suddenly writing to her; Ceng Li brushed her off.

After her mother left for work, Ceng Li picked up the letter and walked to the phone, hesitated a moment, then dialed.

Wu Yuchen, in class, heard his phone ring, quickly apologized to the teacher, and ran out.

“Hello?” Silence on the other end.

“Hello?” Still no reply.

Wu Yuchen’s heart leapt—he ventured: “Hello, is that Lizi?”

After a few seconds, a slightly wounded female voice came through:

“Why are you always writing me letters?”

Wu Yuchen’s heart soared—he finally had a response!

He quickly shaped his voice into a melancholy tone:

“I miss you.”

Thank you for your support and tips—skip a chapter and they’ll say the protagonist is being dramatic. I’ve already written enough pushing, pushing, pushing—how much more can I torture the protagonist?