Lin Shuyue had been far too warm and attentive toward him. Every time Luo Ming thought about how Lin Shuwen had described her relationship with her cousin as distant and cold, he broke out in a cold sweat.
He had unintentionally reshaped Lin Shuwen’s personal relationships—and with her cousin, no less.
If Lin Shuwen ever found out, would she kill him?
“What have I even been doing these past few days?”
Stealing songs, stealing show ideas—it had been exhilarating. But how was he supposed to clean up this mess?
Sitting in the cab, Luo Ming spent the entire ride racking his brain over how to explain things to Lin Shuwen.
“Screech~ Miss, we’ve arrived!”
“Thanks, driver.” Luo Ming put on his mask, paid, and got out of the car.
“Wen Jie, you’re finally back! Sister Shan’s been waiting for you!” Chen Sichu rushed over as soon as Luo Ming stepped into the hotel room.
“Waiting for me? Why?”
“What’s the deal with that song of yours?” Before Chen Sichu could answer, Sister Shan’s signature booming voice rang out.
“It just came to me out of nowhere. I jotted it down while I was at my sister’s place.”
“Inspiration just struck, and you wrote it? Since when is songwriting that easy?”
“What else would it be?”
Sister Shan was momentarily speechless.
“Sister Shan, that song is still a rough draft—the arrangement isn’t finished yet. I was thinking of using traditional Chinese instruments for the arrangement. Do you think Teacher Huang could pull it off?”
“You’re seriously underestimating Old Huang. Write down your requirements, and I’ll pass them to him. He’ll handle it flawlessly.”
“That’s a relief. Once the arrangement is done, the only thing left is the copyright. Sister Shan, you—”
“Leave that to me too. Copyright is my job—don’t worry about it.
Wenwen, could you give me a heads-up next time you’re planning something big? I’m your agent. If I’d known you could write a song like that, I could’ve negotiated with the production team and gotten you even more—”
“Sister Shan!” Luo Ming cut her off. “Director Zhu said he owes me a favor.”
“What? Say that again?” Sister Shan was so startled that her Northeastern accent slipped out.
“Director Zhu said he owes me a favor.”
“Just because of that song?”
Luo Ming nodded, conveniently omitting the part about pitching the new variety show idea to Director Zhu.
Otherwise, who knows what Sister Shan would have said next!
While Sister Shan was busy questioning her own existence, Luo Ming plopped down onto the sofa with his legs spread wide.
Lately, he had been making a conscious effort to adopt more feminine mannerisms. But as the saying goes, old habits die hard—the moment he relaxed, his true nature slipped through.
Sister Shan, who had been lost in thought, immediately furrowed her brow. “Close your legs! That’s so unladylike!”
Luo Ming gave an awkward smile and obediently crossed his legs, resting his left ankle over his right knee.
“Did Director Zhu drink too much today?”
“No way! He had work this afternoon—he didn’t have a drop.”
“No drinking? Then is he running a fever?”
Luo Ming was speechless. “Sister Shan, can’t you just wish the guy well?”
“What do you know? A favor from Director Zhu, if leveraged properly, could easily land you a female lead’s supporting role in one of his films. Haven’t you always wanted to act?
Think about it—if you played a supporting female role in a Zhu-directed movie and it did well at the box office, who’d still call you a ratings killer?”
Hearing the term “ratings killer,” Luo Ming almost lost it.
He had no idea Lin Shuwen had earned herself that kind of nickname.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“The clothes you wore the day before yesterday reeked of hotpot, and now this down jacket smells like Peking duck. You’ve been eating pretty well these past couple of days, haven’t you?”
“Sister Shan, do you have a dog’s nose or something?”
“Never mind what kind of nose I have. You’re the type who gains weight easily. After all that eating, you’ve probably put on at least a pound or two. When you get back Sunday, we’re doing extra training—get that weight off!”
“Wait! Sister Shan, can we push it to Monday? My period just ended.”
“Fine—Monday it is!” With that, Sister Shan turned and walked out.
Luo Ming watched her retreating figure and smiled. Well, well—how the tables have turned.
Now it was Lin Shuwen’s turn to be the rabbit.
“Ah-choo~” Sitting in her office, Lin Shuwen suddenly sneezed.
“Who’s talking about me behind my back?” she muttered to herself, rubbing her nose before refocusing on her computer screen.
On Tuesday, Lin Shuwen had told Zhao Ningyuan that a friend of hers wanted to learn programming and asked if he had any beginner-friendly materials.
Zhao Ningyuan had sent her a Baidu Netdisk link containing over 40 gigabytes of video tutorials.
“Boss Luo, this is the C++ programming course I sell on my Taobao store. It’s over 90 hours long—thorough as can be. It covers everything from basics to the most advanced topics. If someone could master it all, they’d be a true technical expert. The only catch is that it’s tough to learn just from watching videos.”
Lin Shuwen was confident in her learning abilities—after all, she had scored 653 on her college entrance exams and gotten into Shanghai Jiao Tong University fair and square.
She thanked Zhao Ningyuan, returned to her office, downloaded all the videos, and started studying.
From Tuesday afternoon through Saturday afternoon, Lin Shuwen went over the most basic sections—roughly the first fifth of the course—repeatedly. Combined with the foundational knowledge Luo Ming had already taught her, she was no longer completely in the dark about programming.
At the very least, when Zhao Ningyuan came to report to her, she could actually understand what he was talking about.
That was already huge progress. The very first thing Luo Ming had said when teaching her programming was: “The hardest part of programming is getting started.”
That was what his own teacher had told him in his past life, and all these years later, Luo Ming still believed it was the absolute truth.
That was why he had prepared himself for a long haul, ready to slowly guide Lin Shuwen through the basics.
Little did he know that after just a few days apart, Lin Shuwen would have already taken her first steps on her own.
After wrapping up a full day of studying, Lin Shuwen left the office with her studio staff.
She didn’t get home until 8 p.m.
She collapsed onto the sofa, pulled out her phone, and sent Luo Ming a message: “Is the recording done? How’d it go?”
Seeing her message, Luo Ming knew she was home and immediately called her.
“Hello~”
“Hey, Luo Ming. Did the recording go smoothly?”
“Pretty smooth, but—”
“But what?”
“I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which one do you want first?”
Lin Shuwen sat straight up on the sofa. “You’re not getting back at me for binge-eating, are you? Gonna make me run like crazy next week?”
“Come on! Do I seem like that kind of person?”
“So what’s the bad news?”
“I got along great with your cousin these past two days. Closer than sisters, even.”
Lin Shuwen froze. “You—you’re joking, right? There’s no way my cousin would—”
“Ahem! Here’s what happened.”
Luo Ming told Lin Shuwen everything that had gone down over the past two days.
Lin Shuwen was at a total loss for words. Luo Ming had written a song, pitched a new variety show concept—of course her cousin’s opinion of “her” would change!
And yet, she couldn’t even complain, because all the credit was going to “her,” and all the benefits were hers too. How could she possibly have the nerve to grumble?
This was truly like swallowing bitter gourd in silence—unable to voice the suffering.
