Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Realest You had invited nothing but stars. During introductions, everyone rattled off one celebrated project after another. I had plenty of famous work too. I had been lucky; every comedy I made had become a hit.

But when I finished, no one immediately picked up the conversation as they had for the others. An awkward silence settled over the room.

I was the oddest fit in the cast. Everyone else had both talent and popularity, or, like Jiang Siyu, powerful backing. I alone had vanished from the industry for two years and still carried a career-destroying scandal on my back.

Unable to guess who might stand behind me, these seasoned operators simply kept quiet.

Jiang Siyu’s clear voice rang out. “Those films are all from years ago. Ding Guchun, what have you been doing for the past two years?”

It sounded like concern, but her fans had spent those same two years hounding me, demanding an apology.

There had been rumors that I disappeared because I married into wealth. One online exposé analyzed the claim so convincingly that even I almost believed it.

Sang Ge had shown no interest in socializing and kept his eyes lowered from the start. Now he suddenly looked at me.

The words in my throat turned rough.

“I went away to experience life and hone my craft.” Propping my chin on one hand, I grinned without a care. “Give me a role as someone on the verge of death now, and next time I might be accepting an award in Los Angeles with Director Sang.”

The boast was shameless enough to make everyone laugh, easing the tension among strangers. Even Sang Ge’s brows relaxed.

Only for a moment.

The production team announced the day’s first activity: a walk through town to gather inspiration, break the ice, and experience the area’s local culture.

The trouble was that someone had to stay behind and cook.

Compared with a trip outside, cooking offered dull footage that might never make the final cut. No one wanted it.

Every guest claimed they could not cook.

“Ding Guchun can.”

I looked up blankly and met Sang Ge’s dark eyes.

I had not realized he disliked me so much that he would even deny me a little screen time. I could cook, and once I had cooked rather well. In the past, Sang Ge would finish even the broth when I made noodles.

But I probably could not do it now.

My sense of taste had partly disappeared.

“I can’t—” I began by instinct. Then I caught the others’ expressions and changed course, smiling brightly. “Even if I can’t, I’ll learn. If Director Sang says I can, then of course I can.”

His lips curved in a mocking smile.

Sang Ge stood at the pinnacle of the industry now. His word was final. Even if I truly had no idea how to cook, I would have to learn on the spot.

Bitterness filled my mouth. Only now did I taste a little regret.

I wished I had never known Sang Ge at all.

To my surprise, someone volunteered to stay and help me. Miaomiao had been a child star and had come in hopes of winning the lead in Sang Ge’s new film.

“Don’t take it to heart,” she murmured while picking through the vegetables, her back to the cameras. “He’s only helping Jiang Siyu vent. Director Sang won’t make things too difficult for you.”

I nodded.

Everyone believed Sang Ge and I were strangers. If he targeted me without cause, it could only be for Jiang Siyu.

I stir-fried some greens and asked Miaomiao to taste them. Her face contorted.

“Ding Guchun, you really can’t cook.”

I smiled awkwardly and surrendered the stove. After that, I only helped with small tasks—sorting vegetables and carrying dishes.

When the meal was almost ready, cheerful voices spilled in from the living room. The outing must have been fun.

I poked my head out to call everyone to dinner and met a pair of eyes holding a smile. Jiang Siyu had one hand looped around Sang Ge’s sleeve, laughing happily.

The sight burned me. I turned back at once. Miaomiao glanced at me in confusion. I shook my head to show it was nothing and silently carried the dishes to the dining table.

Once everyone sat down, they praised the food.

Only Sang Ge lowered his gaze after one bite, coldness gathering in his face.

The moment that difficult man made that expression, dread rose in me.

Sure enough, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at me with cool, narrow eyes.

“Ding Guchun, did you cook this?”

My face burned scarlet.

He was being stubborn, relentless, determined to embarrass me in front of everyone.

This version of Sang Ge was no fun at all.