Chapter 245: Another Ice, a Thoughtful and Well-Behaved Wang Ou

Late October, Love Transfer began filming, and Yan Li appeared as producer at the ceremony.

This film had a very short preparation period.

Probably after summer vacation, host Liu Yiwei had the idea, began gathering a script, then connected with China Film Group, brought in Yan Li, and once the team and funding were in place, they started shooting.

The estimated shooting schedule was only about a month, with each cameo actress allocated one or two days, or two or three days.

This pace had a hint of old Hong Kong New Year films, but Hong Kong was even more efficient—they could finish and release within one or two months.

Love Transfer would barely make it for this year's New Year slot and couldn't possibly compete at the box office with big films like The Golden Age.

So it was expected to launch in February next year, around Spring Festival, riding the holiday and Valentine's Day wave.

Big profits were not expected, but a small profit was still possible.

Though it was a small-scale production, the cast was still impressive.

The Teddy Sisters group contributed the most, sending four members: Ma Yili and Li Xiaolu led the team, with Xiong Naijin and Zhao Ke also joining.

Qin Lan, Seeing Huo Siyan, and Liu Yun were all filming dramas; otherwise, they could have taken minor roles.

Dong Xuan and Fan Xiaopang also didn't participate due to this, but Wang Ou got a role because he needed to return to Jingcheng for work.

Wu Jiani was busy with her dance studio, and Yang Rong didn't want Wang Ou to know she was in Jingcheng, so she didn't join.

But Yan Li didn't know only them—he made one phone call and borrowed Tong Lei from Hai Run.

She was currently dating Zhou Yiwei, making her his half-sister-in-law.

Also present was his college classmate Che Xiao, who was the most successful among the 2000 Vocational Class at Beijing Film Academy besides Yan Li and his roommate.

She had played female leads, gained some fame, and recently signed with Huayi Brothers.

Though both were in Jingcheng, they hadn't seen each other for a while, only hearing vague rumors.

They reconnected only when Yan Li attended the After-Party for The Banquet; Che Xiao attended as a Huayi artist, and after catching up, Yan Li invited her to help out—Che Xiao agreed readily and took the role for free.

To be honest, who in the 2000 Vocational Class at Beijing Film Academy didn't envy Lin Jiachuan and the others?

Lin Jiachuan and Zhang Songwen weren't hugely famous, but they never lacked roles, frequently appearing on TV dramas—over the years, audiences might not know their names, but they'd definitely recognize them as actors.

Zhou Yiwei had acted in Haiyan dramas and played male lead roles more than once; he might not be a top rising star, but he was certainly well-known.

To their old classmates, this was clearly due to Yan Li's promotion—otherwise, how could they have enjoyed such success?

Setting that aside, even other classes from Beijing Film Academy's 2000 vocational program, and even undergraduate classes, hardly anyone made it; many simply went behind the scenes or even switched careers entirely.

So among these old classmates, except for a few, everyone wanted to cling to Yan Li's coattails.

But too many people wanted to cling to Yan Li's coattails; he couldn't possibly help them all, only a few close friends benefited.

Che Xiao's feelings toward Yan Li were complicated.

As previously mentioned, before Yan Li pursued Dong Xuan, he and Che Xiao, a classmate, had been somewhat ambiguous.

Without Dong Xuan, the two might have gotten together; back then, Che Xiao even confronted Dong Xuan because Yan Li had chosen her.

Time has passed; logically, this regret should have been long buried, but Yan Li's current success made the regret not only linger but grow larger.

Yan Li didn't take it to heart—he was just an old classmate with a past flirtation; it had been five or six years, and he'd nearly forgotten it.

Besides the above, China Film Group and the crew also invited Qin Hailu, Ning Jing, Qu Ying, and Jiang Hongbo.

There seemed to be two newcomers too, but Yan Li didn't know them, and since their scenes weren't shot at the launch, they didn't come.

Today, the female actors present were only Qin Hailu, Li Xiaolu, and Jiang Hongbo.

Jiang Hongbo was roughly a half-female lead, playing the ex-wife, appearing at the beginning and end.

Qin Hailu played a highly sensitive woman, lacking inner security, with strong perceptiveness—most men couldn't handle her.

Li Xiaolu played a post-85s girl, fiery and energetic, lacking depth, unsuitable for middle-aged men wanting to marry and settle down.

Jiang Hongbo and Qin Hailu didn't know each other; Yan Li didn't know the situation, but casting Li Xiaolu in this role was definitely the director's sharp eye.

A girl who loved to play and have fun, chased trends, and lacked depth—Li Xiaolu could play this role perfectly as herself.

Though an investor, Yan Li joined late and had little interaction with the main creators.

But this posed no challenge to Yan Li, who excelled at socializing; combined with his status, he easily blended in with them.

Since there was shooting that night, no dinner was arranged; after chatting with everyone, Yan Li prepared to leave.

But as he was leaving, he noticed Li Xiaolu glancing his way; he thought for a moment and waved her over.

Li Xiaolu had spread the rumor about Orange Sky; though Orange Sky didn't fall for it, she still put in effort.

Regardless of other matters, Yan Li had to honor his promises—if he didn't, who would work for him in the future?

"These two days, have your husband go to Yi'an—I'll arrange a role for him."

Yan Li kept his word, but the role depended on Li Xiaolu's performance; if she successfully tricked Orange Sky and delivered major results, he could even give her boyfriend the male lead.

But now she only spread a rumor—she had done something, but not enough.

A role was certain, but the male lead was unlikely unless Li Chen had insane luck—unless the crew admired him and no one else competed for it.

The male lead was improbable, but he wouldn't just give her a minor role to dismiss her—that would be too disrespectful; at least an important supporting role.

"Then I'll thank you on his behalf, Director Yan."

Li Xiaolu didn't know Yan Li's intentions or whether it had succeeded.

But since Yan Li offered a role, she accepted it; the role's quality didn't matter much—it wasn't her acting anyway—yet one thing.

"Director Yan, could you please make sure it's not a kissing or bed scene?"

Li Xiaolu made a request—after all, it was her husband; she didn't want Li Chen to have intimate scenes with other actresses.

Yan Li understood, thought briefly: "I recall a film called The Legend of Shaolin Temple—if you don't mind him shaving his head and doing martial arts, he could play a monk—definitely no romantic scenes."

Li Xiaolu clapped: "Perfect, let him play that."

After agreeing on this, exchanged a few polite words, Yan Li left.

Li Xiaolu stayed to shoot, working until past two in the morning before wrapping up.

The crew had a hotel, but since some actors had homes in Jingcheng, they could choose to go home.

Li Xiaolu's place wasn't far, and since the show wasn't until tomorrow night, there was no need to wake up early for makeup, so she took a taxi straight home.

When she got home, Li Chen, who had been unemployed lately, was already asleep; Li Xiaolu, hungry from filming, insisted on waking him up to make her a late-night snack.

"What kind of drama are you filming that's so tiring?"

Li Chen looked at Li Xiaolu, slumped listlessly on the sofa, and couldn't help but feel curious.

Li Xiaolu didn't feel like talking: "Why ask so many questions?"

The little girl she played was full of energy, constantly causing trouble, acting on whims—dancing at clubs, playing video games, picking fights, jumping and screaming during the World Cup, even mimicking Zidane's headbutt.

Although Li Xiaolu was a wild girl herself, enjoying her own wild fun, portraying such a wild girl was entirely different.

From the opening ceremony, through makeup tests and interviews, to the official shoot, she'd been up until midnight, still performing lively, energetic scenes—it was no wonder she was exhausted.

Seeing this, Li Chen didn't make things harder for himself; he made her some noodles, then went to the bathroom to fill the tub and waited for Li Xiaolu to bathe.

Seeing her boyfriend was considerate, Li Xiaolu was satisfied: "I got you a role from Yan Li—go check out Yi'an these next few days, so you won't just sit around at home all day."

Acting is a semi-independent profession.

The famous can't rest even if they want to; the unknown can't find work even if they seek it.

Actors like Li Chen, who have some name recognition but not much, are in a awkward position.

They have enough confidence not to sink to playing extras or bit parts, but their connections and fame are limited, so they can only be chosen.

If lucky, they film for a few months a year and earn well; if unlucky, they go the whole year without a single job and just burn through savings.

So many minor actors obsess over networking and social circles, or try to pass civil service exams, just to gain more opportunities—or at least have a stable, guaranteed job.

Li Chen hasn't had much work this year; nearly half the year he's idle or takes odd jobs, which is why Li Xiaolu wanted to get him a role.

Hearing Li Xiaolu's words, Li Chen paused mid-motion, glanced at his exhausted girlfriend who'd returned late at night, and his expression changed slightly.

"Why would Yan Li help you?"

Li Xiaolu, utterly unaware of anything odd, sipped her soup and instinctively bragged about her close ties with the big shot.

"I've told you a hundred times—we're close. I call him brother. It's just one word from him."

"Go check it out; if it doesn't work, I'll talk to him again—we'll switch it."

Li Xiaolu was blowing smoke; she believed she had some connection with Yan Li, and if worst came to worst, she could beg Qin Lan—she wouldn't lose face.

Li Chen had seen this before; Li Xiaolu loved showing off, mixing truth with lies.

But he'd already had a misunderstanding before, and now, seeing Li Xiaolu somehow land him a role from Yan Li, his suspicions grew.

Don't let yourself be traded for a role.

Worse still, Li Chen darkly wondered: was Li Xiaolu fighting for him a role—or was Yan Li tired of him, pushing him out of Jingcheng to clear space?

After much hesitation, Li Chen couldn't help saying: "Stay away from Yan Li—he's no good."

Whether it was a misunderstanding or not, he wanted Li Xiaolu to have less contact with Yan Li.

It wasn't wrong— if Li Chen hung around a girl with a bad reputation, Li Xiaolu wouldn't be happy either.

But their relationship gave Li Xiaolu absolute dominance; she was spoiled and couldn't tolerate being told what to do.

Besides, Li Xiaolu had no bad impression of Yan Li.

He spent money freely, but was kind to people, generous, capable, and high-status—she didn't think he was a bad person worth avoiding.

And she'd gone out of her way to help Li Chen, securing him a role, yet now he acted like she'd wronged him.

Li Xiaolu slammed down her chopsticks: "Li Chen, what do you mean?"

Li Chen, holding back all this time, finally snapped: "I just don't want you getting too close to him."

"What's wrong with being close? We're completely innocent. You're just jealous of Yan Li, jealous and petty."

"I'm jealous? Don't turn this around—you know what you're hiding."

"…."

Li Xiaolu and Li Chen had a huge fight, smashed bowls, and Li Xiaolu moved back to her own place, then sent Yan Li a text: don't give Li Chen the role.

…

The next morning, Yan Li saw the text and was confused—why cancel a role that was already set?

He called Li Xiaolu, but she said nothing, just insisted not to assign the role to Li Chen.

Yan Li sensed her tone was off, thought it over, and guessed they'd had a fight.

He didn't care about their petty quarrel; he just said he'd remember this for her, and they'd talk later.

If they made up, he'd pick another drama for Li Chen later; if they broke up, he'd give the role to Li Xiaolu or her next boyfriend—she could decide, as long as he didn't break his word.

"What's wrong?"

Yang Rong came out of the kitchen with a plate of warmed buns and asked Yan Li, who shook his head.

"Nothing."

Eating buns, Yan Li looked at Yang Rong: "Are your tickets booked?"

"Yes. Afternoon flight."

Yang Rong had taken leave from Jingcheng; she still had duties at the theater, and her agency had lined up a new drama for her, so today she had to return to Shanghai.

Yan Li felt a little reluctant—Yang Rong had been neither clingy nor cold during this time, she was healthy, had a good personality, and Yan Li found her quite pleasing.

"If you leave, I'll be alone again."

Yan Li played the victim; Yang Rong, chewing her bun, rolled her eyes: "No one's lonely but you."

She knew full well he'd been away from her place sometimes—definitely seeing someone else.

She didn't know who exactly, but Wu Jiani was definitely one—she'd seen her in the QQ group.

Also, Wang Ou would soon return to Jingcheng; even if only briefly, he wouldn't let Yan Li be lonely.

"You're just afraid I'll bring Wang Ou here."

Yan Li saw through Yang Rong's hidden motive—she'd come to Jingcheng even hiding it from Wang Ou, afraid he'd drag her into something.

Not only was Yang Rong wary of Wang Ou, but also Yan Li—he feared one person wasn't enough to handle this pair of dog lovers, so he chose to flee first.

Yang Rong said nothing, clearly acknowledging it; Yan Li bit into his bun with a furious glare.

Running won't help—you're both meat in the pot; sooner or later, I'll stack you together.

After finishing the meal, watching Yang Rong clean up, Yan Li couldn't resist delaying work and pulled Yang Rong back to bed for a nap.

By the time she returns to Shanghai, next time might not come for a while—eat one more bite while you can.

…

After Yang Rong left, Beijing was left with only Wu Jiani—and even she was too busy to be useful; Yan Li struggled even to satisfy his cravings.

Yan Li once thought he had too many women, barely keeping up. But now he realized his view had been narrow—many were female celebrities, busy with work, inevitably leaving him wishing for more when he needed them.

He wanted to visit sets, but still had countless trivial matters, hunting for casual flings—no suitable options yet, and safety was also a concern.

Yan Li could only find ways in his spare time to release the boundless energy trapped in his body.

Gymming, martial arts, running, horseback riding, soccer—these helped a little, but only treated symptoms, not the root; worse, the more he trained, the more restless he became.

So when Wang Ou returned to Beijing, she encountered Yan Li in a gasoline-soaked state—and together with Wu Jiani, nearly got worn out so badly he couldn't leave the house.

"You're close by in Beijing—why don't you feed him sometimes?"

The next day, Yan Li went to work refreshed and invigorated; Wang Ou, clutching her waist, complained to Wu Jiani.

She's so inconsiderate—look what he's been reduced to; I even feel sorry for him.

Wu Jiani felt wronged: "I have to be able to handle it too."

If I alone could satisfy Yan Li, I wouldn't say a word—but honestly, I just can't take it; even with Wang Ou's help, we were utterly crushed.

Wang Ou thought about it—Yan Li seemed to be practicing some kind of health cultivation, his abilities growing increasingly outrageous; otherwise, she wouldn't keep dragging Wu Jiani along.

Occasional episodes like this are playful, but over time, thresholds rise, appetites grow larger—and that's not good.

But there's no way—no single person can handle Yan Li.

Wang Ou isn't like Qin Dongfan and the others; she won't tolerate him going elsewhere when he's unsatisfied, nor will she let him run wild.

To please Yan Li and earn his favor, she had no choice but to ensure he was not just fed, but fully satisfied—one person wasn't enough, so she had to bring in Wu Jiani.

As for Yan Li's appetite and thresholds, Wang Ou had other ideas—she could satisfy his needs and novelty by adding or replacing people.

For example, that little slut Yang Rong.

But speaking of Yang Rong, a shadow crossed Wang Ou's mind—her good friend had been acting strangely lately; never mind earlier, last night she usually called to listen to Yang Rong's livestream, but Yang Rong hung up on her.

This was unprecedented—there must be something wrong!

Wang Ou wasn't worried about other things—she feared Yang Rong had finally wised up, decided to step out, and was going to find a boyfriend and live a normal life.

In such a case, since they were good friends, Wang Ou would never drag her down.

But this would be a devastating blow to Wang Ou's plans.

Wang Ou knew Yang Rong's nature—she didn't like competing, had no ill intentions, and wasn't the type to stir up trouble.

She had a decent appearance and figure, sweet yet quietly alluring, which Yan Li found appealing; there had already been plenty of groundwork laid.

Most importantly, their bond was extremely strong, with high trust—Wang Ou didn't fear being stabbed in the back by her own ally.

She could help Wang Ou, could be trusted, and wouldn't compete for the spotlight or challenge her as team leader.

In short, Yang Rong was, in Wang Ou's eyes, the ideal ally—even superior to Wu Jiani.

Now, if Yang Rong pulled out, where would Wang Ou find another suitable candidate in a hurry?

Tormented, Wang Ou reported to the set of "Love Transfer."

In the film, her character was a female police officer—dashing and energetic, a workaholic obsessed with catching criminals, with a strong personality; the male lead couldn't accept it, and they eventually parted amicably.

The role wasn't difficult; Wang Ou read the script while heading to the makeup room.

At that moment, another actress was in the makeup room, apparently testing her look; Wang Ou nodded politely, stepped forward—then suddenly halted and turned back, unable to resist studying the oval face in the mirror.

Huh… this face… seems a bit like mine.

But upon closer look, it wasn't that similar—how to put it? Both had oval faces, soft and sweet features; at first glance, they looked somewhat alike.

This girl, on top of her facial structure and features, carried a gentler, more elegant aura, with a notably approachable presence.

Wang Ou, by contrast, leaned toward cold beauty and seductiveness, more aggressive, with a stronger presence.

The actress, sensing Wang Ou staring at her, didn't dare delay and stood up to greet her.

"Miss Wang, hello—I'm Bai Bing, playing Zhou Xinrui in this production."

Another Bing!?

Wang Ou felt a slight aversion to that character, but on the surface, she smiled warmly, shook Bai Bing's hand, and chatted enthusiastically.

Bai Bing was flattered—Wang Ou was no longer the same; she was now a top-tier rising star, ranking among the leading actresses in "Love Transfer," and never expected such kindness from her toward a newcomer.

Thus, Bai Bing's fondness for Wang Ou soared; lacking experience, she was easily drawn out by Wang Ou's questions.

Bai Bing was indeed a newcomer—extremely new, a latecomer to the industry, only twenty this year, just starting out.

In the past two years, talent shows surged; CCTV launched one called "Dream China"; Bai Bing, studying in the northwest, applied and performed well, eventually signed by Xiangjiang's Yinghuang Company.

Yinghuang took her seriously—released a single, cast her in a drama, and recommended her to China Film for "Love Transfer."

Wang Ou found her interesting, chatted with her, exchanged contact details, and changed how she addressed her.

"Don't call me 'Teacher'—you're making me sound old; I'm not much older than you—just call me Ou Jie."

Bai Bing naturally didn't refuse Wang Ou's warmth, obediently saying: "Ou Jie."

Wang Ou smiled: "Since you call me Jie, I'll call you Bingbing."

"No problem."

Thus, they called each other Bingbing and Ou Jie—Wang Ou felt blissful from head to toe.

Even a knockoff Bingbing is still Bingbing—after being bullied for so long by that sly Fan, doesn't she deserve some comfort?

Since they weren't shooting in the same location, they parted after makeup.

Bai Bing was thinking about Wang Ou, her new celebrity friend, and planned to drop by after work to chat up her.

But Wang Ou left immediately after wrapping, never even coming to the makeup room to remove her makeup, not even returning a single prop handcuff.

Bai Bing felt slightly disappointed; they'd only met by chance, and though they had contact info, it wasn't right to disturb her—she didn't know if Wang Ou would even remember her next time they met.

Then, the next day after wrapping, Bai Bing received a call from Wang Ou, celebrating her wrap party.

That's right—Bai Bing had very little screen time; her entire role, from costume fitting to filming, was done in two days. Wang Ou had slightly more scenes, but she was also expected to wrap either tomorrow or the day after.

Bai Bing hadn't expected Wang Ou to reach out again—or to throw her a wrap party—and she immediately accepted the invitation.

But Wang Ou got held up with something, making Bai Bing wait a long time at the restaurant before she finally showed up.

"Sorry, I thought I could come right after wrapping, but the company suddenly had an event."

Wang Ou explained. Bai Bing shook her head, saying it was fine—even a little envious.

She'd just debuted; work opportunities were painfully scarce. Aside from the occasional side gig or tagging along with her company's events, she had nothing but idle time.

"Your company's so big—arranging a role for someone shouldn't be hard."

In Wang Ou's mind, Yinghuang was a major company, even bigger than Yi'an—how had Bai Bing ended up in such a bad spot?

"Our company is big, but so are we. And we prioritize artists from Xiangjiang."

Bai Bing, touched by Wang Ou's willingness to befriend her, held deep affection for her. As a newcomer with no connections in Jingcheng, she let Wang Ou guide the conversation—and began pouring out her grievances.

These days, Hong Kong entertainment companies, with their big names and abundant resources, attract many mainland artists to join them.

But in reality, the Hong Kong scene isn't easy to break into.

First, many Xiangjiang entertainment firms sign mainland artists just to open the mainland market, so they mostly offer mainland resources.

These Hong Kong companies are powerful, but they're playing away games on the mainland, with limited resources.

At the same time, the most important point: these Xiangjiang companies prefer to use "their own people"—that is, Xiangjiang actors.

Take Yinghuang as an example: most of their artists are from Xiangjiang. They're already famous and deeply entrenched in internal networks. Artists like Bai Bing—unknown, with no roots—are no match for those Xiangjiang artists.

The few opportunities Bai Bing had before were just residual effects from her talent show.

Now, the company hasn't said anything about future plans. From her agent's tone, it seemed they wanted to send her back to another talent show.

Debut through a talent show, then go back to another one? What was the point?

Watching Bai Bing's troubled expression, Wang Ou comforted her while reflecting inwardly.

Every time this happened, she felt especially grateful she'd met Yan Li and seized the opportunity—otherwise, she had no idea what state she'd be in now.

Maybe she'd be a minor actress, or worse, still stuck in modeling, or perhaps she'd have failed to make it in Jingcheng and returned home.

If lucky, she'd become a dance teacher with a steady income; if unlucky, she'd marry, become a housewife, raise kids, and count every few jiao and kuai spent on groceries.

It was Wang Ou's constant, subtle self-congratulations that made her increasingly content with her status—and increasingly dependent on Yan Li.

So she had to find every way possible to make Yan Li unable to live without her, to make him feel she was his most perfect lover.

Thinking of this, Wang Ou glanced at Bai Bing: "If you really have no work opportunities, sis can arrange one for you—try to get you more screen time."

"Really?!"

Bai Bing was thrilled and immediately thanked her—this sister was definitely worth knowing, so loyal and generous.

"It's nothing, just a small favor."

Wang Ou waved it off casually. Though her fame wasn't huge, her background was strong—she had more clout than many actors far more popular than her.

Arranging a supporting role was no trouble for Wang Ou; if absolutely necessary, she could even ask Yan Li.

But Wang Ou's casual wave made Bai Bing notice something odd: "Sister Ou, why is your wrist red?"

Wang Ou instinctively covered it, pursing her lips: "I bumped it."

How do you bump your wrist all the way around?!

Bai Bing was puzzled, but seeing Wang Ou didn't want to talk about it, she didn't press further.

After dinner, Wang Ou drove her own hundred-thousand-yuan Jaguar and asked Bai Bing to accompany her to Guomao to shop.

After finishing "Love Transfer," she had another event and needed outfits and accessories to match.

Sometimes the company pays for these, sometimes the artist pays out of pocket—the former belong to the company, the latter to the artist.

Many artists earn heavily and spend heavily; clothing expenses are a significant cost.

Bai Bing, as an artist herself, had some experience with this.

But for her own events, she mostly borrowed clothes from the company or rented them—she rarely bought anything.

After all, you couldn't wear cheap stuff; even the cheapest cost several hundred yuan, slightly better ones cost over a thousand, and you often wore them only once. For similar events later, you had to buy new ones—terrible value.

But Wang Ou didn't just buy—she bought expensive things. One simple dress cost several thousand, some over ten thousand; accessories were even pricier.

When they left Guomao, the bags in their hands totaled nearly 200,000 yuan.

Bai Bing carried the bags for Wang Ou, feeling dazed.

Her family background was actually decent—her parents ran a business; though not extremely wealthy, they'd always provided for her needs.

So Bai Bing had always thought she was indifferent to money. But seeing Wang Ou's little display today, she suddenly realized she wasn't indifferent to money—she'd just never seen enough of it.

Spending nearly 200,000 yuan on a few dresses? In a small county, that could buy a house. Was this what a star's life was like?

Not many stars spent like this!

Wang Ou knew well: without Yan Li backing her, she'd never dare spend this way.

Even with Yan Li giving her money, she normally didn't waste it this badly—today was intentional.

To catch a fish, you must first scatter bait, offer a little sweetness, and make her see an even bigger sweetness ahead, so she'll yearn for it.

This trick she'd learned from Yan Li, then added her own twists.

She'd tested it briefly with Wu Jiani—this was her first time doing it alone.

Wang Ou was fairly satisfied with herself. She planned to show off to Yan Li when she got home—he'd be speechless.

Is this little bitch getting addicted to pimping?!

Setting that aside, Wang Ou's approach was actually pretty clever — besides treating him to a meal, giving him some emotional value, and introducing characters to keep his mouth busy, the real gold and silver clothes and accessories were all his own.

Even if the fishing didn't work out, he wasn't losing out himself, no need to worry about fishing only to get fished by the fish.

The upside was safety — a gentle, silent rain that moistened things, drawing them closer; the downside was that it was too slow and required too much worry.

"Alright, no need for you to fish. You think I don't know what's on your mind? Let me tell you straight — a few days ago Yang Rong came and kept me company the whole time."

Yan Li had no interest in Wang Ou's fishing plan. Besides, what was there to fish for? Someone from Ying Huang — he just had to give a nod, and that Bai-whatshisname would have to come over and keep him company at dinner. A little maneuvering, a few quick moves, and he'd just scoop them up in one net.

He had no mood right now for wild fish; if Wang Ou had that kind of energy, she might as well help him stack Yang Rong together.

"Alright."

Wang Ou, hearing Yan Li's words, suddenly saw the light — no wonder that little vixen Yang Rong had been acting so strange.

She'd thought Yang Rong's heart had wandered, but it turned out she'd grown an "inner heart" — secretly hogging the meal behind her back without a peep.

Wang Ou was deeply indignant. She pulled out her phone, ready to call and confront Yang Rong — do you still treat me as a good sister or not? — but Yan Li stopped her.

"If you expose her, won't she just hide from you even more?"

"Keeping her in the dark is better either way — whether you slowly tease and toy with her, or catch her off guard and use it as leverage, both beat calling and laying the cards on the table."

"Makes sense."

Wang Ou nodded rapidly, her mind already spinning through countless wicked schemes to leave that little vixen unable to complain.

Yan Li contentedly held Wang Ou in his arms. If every woman were as easy, understanding, and considerate as Wang Ou, he didn't dare imagine how comfortable his life would be……

(End of chapter)