Spoiled - Chapter 17

After Fang Baijing lay at home for a few days, the film crew finally resumed work.

Everything remained the same, except for the male lead actor, who was replaced by a male actor with a much better reputation and public image. Fortunately, filming had just begun, and since it was a “great heroine” drama, there weren’t many scenes that needed to be replaced for Zhuang Chengyan.

“Baijing, you and… Fu Feng?”

Today was Fang Baijing’s first day back on set. He was mentally prepared for Chen Yun’s question.

Fang Baijing rested his chin on his hand, looked away, and said with little confidence, “Just what you saw.” He cut Chen Yun off quickly, saying absently, “Don’t ask about the rest.”

Chen Yun choked, the question she wanted to ask blocked in her throat. After all, she and Fang Baijing had only known each other for a short time. They only hung out because they got along well on set. Fang Baijing didn’t need to explain everything to her.

Chen Yun hesitated and asked, “What about that Zhuang Chengyan thing…?”

Fang Baijing fluttered his eyelids and nodded, saying, “He did it.” He didn’t specify who, but both of them knew he meant “Fu Feng.”

“That’s pretty ruthless,” Chen Yun muttered softly. “But he kind of deserved it.”

If he hadn’t done so many shameful things, he wouldn’t have been utterly ruined to this extent. In any case, Zhuang Chengyan would never have a chance to return to the public eye.

Chen Yun truly hadn’t expected Fang Baijing and Fu Feng to be involved. With this in mind, the question of why Fu Feng appeared at the film studio finally seemed to have an answer. She also finally understood why Fu Feng would interfere in the entertainment industry, only setting up a company and signing a few small artists under his name, but then not providing them with any resources. It turned out that Fu Feng’s shadow was in every one of Fang Baijing’s scripts. After all this time, it was just a gimmick.

People always have endless curiosity. Chen Yun had never been so close to the source of gossip. She was truly a little curious—what was the relationship between Fang Baijing and Fu Feng? With Fang Baijing’s arrogant temper, how could he agree to be kept? But if they were a couple, they didn’t look like one; something felt missing.

But no matter how strong Chen Yun’s thirst for knowledge was, some questions were inappropriate to ask. She wanted to pat Fang Baijing’s shoulder to signal him to go film, but her movement stopped mid-air.

Chen Yun just lightly kicked Fang Baijing’s chair: “Baijing, your turn.”

Fang Baijing felt quite guilty about delaying the film crew’s schedule. He had Ji Weile hand out red envelopes to the crew members, and he tried to avoid having to re-shoot scenes as much as possible. He had a lot of scenes today.

After a whole day of seamless filming, Fang Baijing finally had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. His back was sweating heavily.

Fang Baijing rushed to the lounge to change his clothes and remove his makeup. He instantly felt much refreshed.

When Fang Baijing got into the car that came to pick him up, he clearly noticed that one person was missing—Fu Feng was not in the back seat. Fu Feng often came to pick him up after filming, especially at this quitting time; Fu Feng was never absent.

Fang Baijing glanced at the empty seat next to him and subconsciously asked, “Where’s Fu Feng?”

“The Master returned to the Fu Residence,” Master Wang replied. “Would you like to give him a call?”

“…No need.” Fang Baijing leaned against the seat back. He wasn’t used to the empty feeling next to him, nor was he used to the lack of the quiet rustling sound of flipping files. He couldn’t help but ask again, “Did Fu Feng say when he’ll be back?”

“The Master will definitely be back tonight.”

After a long pause, Fang Baijing finally gave a slight “Mm.”

When he looked down to check his phone, he realized Fu Feng had already messaged him. He was so dizzy from being busy today that he only had time to check his phone now. F

ang Baijing mechanically tapped his finger on the screen. After a long time, he finally sent a curt message with pursed lips.

Fu Feng had just arrived at the Fu Residence when he received Fang Baijing’s terse “Oh.”

He lowered his gaze and replied with an “Mm.”

Their chat history on WeChat was almost all like this, with one person saying something and the other replying with a concise “Oh,” meant to convey that they understood.

Fu Yan believed in feng shui, so the house was a specifically chosen villa on a mountainside.

As Fu Feng got out of the car, the Fu family’s old butler opened the main door for him.

“Uncle Chen,” Fu Feng nodded to acknowledge him, and asked, “Where is my father?”

“Old Mr. Fu is in the study upstairs.”

“Mm.”

Fu Feng walked up to the study. As he pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was a calligraphy piece hanging on the wall. Black characters on a white background, reading—”Accumulate Virtue for Long-Lasting Glory.” Next to Fu Yan’s left hand was an inkstone.

Hearing Fu Feng enter, Fu Yan’s hand remained steady. His posture for holding the brush was standard. Fu Yan raised his hand, dipped the brush in ink, and left a trace on the xuan paper. Only after he completed the last stroke did Fu Yan finally speak: “You’ve arrived?”

Fu Feng’s appearance was about fifty percent similar to his, especially the sharp brows and eyes, which both naturally commanded respect without needing to show anger. Fu Yan had been in power for decades. Only after a major illness last year did he hand over the real power to Fu Feng. In the past few years, Fu Feng had been keeping a low profile, accumulating experience. His emotions were even more veiled and inscrutable.

He lowered his gaze and said, “Father.”

The relationship between father and son was very ordinary. Strictly speaking, Fu Feng’s relationship with both his parents was ordinary. Fu Yan and Mother Fu had a business marriage devoid of any emotion. After Mother Fu gave birth to Fu Feng, she rarely concerned herself with him. She believed her figure and lifestyle were more important than caring for a child. And for Fu Yan, more than a son, he needed a qualified heir. Fu Feng had understood this since he was very young. Perhaps it was the Fu family’s inherent genes, but since Fu Feng could remember, he had never craved Fu Yan’s fatherly love. He only sought to do the tasks Fu Yan assigned him perfectly. If Fu Yan wanted one hundred points, he would give Fu Yan two hundred.

Until last year, Fu Yan had always believed Fu Feng was the perfect heir in his mind, especially after he handed the Fu Corporation over to Fu Feng.

But things started to go awry—

“Are you still keeping that man by your side?” It was clearly a question, but it was spoken like a statement.

Fu Feng didn’t answer, but Fu Yan continued on his own: “Break it off soon. What kind of person gets entangled with another man? That Li family daughter is excellent.”

“You mean for me to marry her?” Fu Yan fluttered his eyelids:

“You can get acquainted first. If she’s willing, then get married.”

“I will not marry her,” Fu Feng said blandly. “If you are in a hurry to attend my wedding, you are welcome to buy a plane ticket abroad. You can attend Fang Baijing’s and my wedding.”

“Fu Feng.” Fu Yan called Fu Feng’s name heavily. He put down the brush in his hand and said, “I thought you were just playing around, so I tolerated you for this long. And I recall warning you not to get involved with a man since you brought him to your side. Do you think no one has taken pictures of you two? If I weren’t mindful of the Fu family’s reputation, you and your little lover would have been on the covers of entertainment headlines countless times.”

“Father,” Fu Feng used a more formal and distant address. His tone was calm and composed: “Firstly, I have never been ‘just playing around.’ Secondly, even without you, I can suppress those photos. If I don’t want them to be leaked, no one can leak them. Finally,” Fu Feng paused, “He is not my little lover. He is my boyfriend.”

“Fu Feng!” Fu Yan was truly enraged this time. He slammed his palm heavily on the table and sneered, asking, “Who do you think gave you what you have now?” He stated calmly, “It was me.”

“But those things are already mine,” Fu Feng lowered his head to adjust his cuff. His tone was even calmer than Fu Yan’s. “Father, times have changed. No matter what you say, Fang Baijing will be with me for the rest of his life.”

Fu Yan closed his eyes, as if regulating his breathing: “I can compromise. I can allow you to have a secret relationship with him, but publicly, you must marry a gentle and refined wife, and—”

“And give you a grandson, right?” Fu Feng finished the sentence for him. He refused without hesitation, “I will not do that.”

Because no one had the right to ask that. If he liked Fang Baijing, he should like Fang Baijing properly and never use another woman as a shield.

This conversation was unpleasantly predictable for Fu Feng. He looked up at the wall clock. It was still early. He still had time to go back and have dinner with Fang Baijing.

Fu Feng turned and headed for the door.

“Fu Feng.” Fu Yan called out to Fu Feng one last time.

As a son, Fu Feng stopped for the last time.

Fu Yan didn’t speak, he just nodded, signaling Fu Feng to look at the large piece of xuan paper on the desk. The ink was very thick and heavy, and every stroke seemed to be made with extraordinary force. —”Know When to Stop.” This was the idiom Fu Yan had written, four simple characters written with striking intensity.

Fu Feng withdrew his gaze blandly, as if he had seen it and yet hadn’t. His hand rested on the doorknob. With a crisp click, Fu Feng walked out with an unchanged expression.

Just as Fu Feng said, he was now the true head of the Fu family. As long as Fu Feng was around, no one could touch Fang Baijing.

The Fu Residence was a typical Chinese-style home. As Fu Feng walked down the stairs, he noticed someone in the living room who seemed completely out of place in the environment. His brown hair had been deliberately styled with a slight wave. His blue eyes were upturned at the corners. The clothes he wore were not formal. He was casually sitting with his legs crossed, smiling like a cunning fox:

“Hi! Cousin!” His Mandarin was pronounced perfectly.

Fu Feng’s steps stopped on the stairs. He stared at Mishu, who had suddenly appeared in the living room.

He frowned slightly. His tone was indifferent, showing little familiarity. “Why are you here?”