Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 19 - Is Mr. Wen Trying to Keep Me From Leaving?
Chapter 19: Is Mr. Wen Trying to Keep Me From Leaving?
Wen Liang had been consumed by a sense of irritation lately — a constant, restless agitation that made it impossible to feel at ease or stay calm.
Arrogant, sharp, and quick-tempered, he carried a stormy energy that no one could contain once he lost his temper.
Back when Chen Die was around, that storm seemed easier to suppress. But after a visit to the main family estate, the unease had bubbled right back up to the surface.
That evening, Wen Liang had an event to attend — a gathering held on the top floor of the Xicheng Convention Center.
The host was a Mr. Lin, from a family of artists, who had recently taken on the full design responsibility for the Dongcheng project.
闻梁和他也有合作，这次过来参加只不过是没拂这个面子，在宴会上交流不多。
Wen Liang had worked with him before. He came mostly out of courtesy and wasn’t very engaged in the party’s social scene.
At events like this, a few of the usual rich young men naturally gathered together.
Wen Liang sat in the center, his shirt collar slightly open, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone and the sharp line of his Adam’s apple. A cigarette rested between his fingers, his arm relaxed, muscles defined and lean.
Beside him sat a beautiful woman, peeling an orange for him with care.
“Here you go, Mr. Wen,” she said, offering the fruit in her pale, delicate palm.
Someone across from them teased, “Why is it that out of all of us, only Mr. Wen gets someone to peel him an orange?”
Wen Liang casually tossed the orange at him. “Then you eat it.”
Another suddenly chimed in with a grin, “Careful, Mr. Wen. If you eat someone else’s orange, Lingling back home might get upset.”
Everyone else: “...”
Way to hit the sore spot.
“What?” The man seemed to realize the mood had shifted. “Don’t tell me you two had a fight?”
Wen Liang leaned back into the couch, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.
He didn’t respond. The silence made it clear: no one dared say whether it was a fight or a full-on breakup — but judging from the way things went down, it was definitely the latter.
Xiao Shi stepped in to smooth things over. “Alright, alright, fighting with your girl is never fun. Let’s not go there.”
But the other guy wouldn’t let it go — completely oblivious and rebellious. “C’mon, if you fought, just go make it up to her. My girl gets mad all the time. You just gotta be thick-skinned — cold wars are a death sentence.”
Xiao Shi waved his hand and quickly found a way to steer the conversation elsewhere.
After a few more rounds of drinks, most of them were tipsy.
Wen Liang, already on edge, was starting to feel the alcohol hit.
Despite their reputations, these young men weren’t total slackers. The conversation gradually shifted to business and the project.
Right then, Wen Liang, who had been quiet and obviously in a foul mood all night, suddenly spoke up.
His phone was against his ear, face calm and composed, not showing a trace of drunkenness. His voice was hoarse, thick with congestion — maybe he had a cold — and his tone had a deep, magnetic rasp.
“Where are you?” His voice was flat.
Everyone looked over. Somehow, they all just knew who was on the other end: ‘Lingling.’
Silence fell.
Wen Liang didn’t seem to notice or care about the stares. Head bowed, elbow resting on his knee, he leaned into his hand.
Whatever the person on the other end said, he repeated coldly: “I asked you — where are you?”
This time, the tone dipped — colder, carrying a warning.
The air turned tense.
This man was already a known loose cannon — now drunk on top of it? If he lost it, he might just blow the roof off.
Everyone prayed whoever was on the line wouldn’t push him any further.
Unfortunately, the person didn’t even say anything to provoke him.
She simply hung up.
Wen Liang stared at the phone, his face instantly darkening.
His tongue pressed hard against his molars as he shifted positions and called back.
This time, he didn’t even put the phone to his ear — just stared at the screen.
And even worse — the moment it connected, it was hung up on again.
Everyone: “……”
Wen Liang looked down at his phone for a few seconds — then suddenly smiled. He grabbed his coat and left.
Xiao Shi needed a solid half a minute to process what just happened. “What the fk…” he muttered, sinking into the couch. A few moments later: “Seriously, what the fk.”
“Is he seriously going to find her? Dude, how much did he drink?! That’s a drunk driving!”
He didn’t dare stay behind and ran after him — but Wen Liang was already gone.
Thankfully, Xiao Shi spotted his car still parked in the garage.
Meanwhile, Chen Die had finished filming her scenes that afternoon but stayed behind to watch Qi Cheng and Wang Yunxi finish theirs.
It had to be said — Qi Cheng truly lived up to his reputation as the most talented among the current wave of popular actors. As for Wang Yunxi, her look and performance were perfectly aligned with the role — incredibly compelling.
Chen Die had pulled over a small folding stool and was quietly watching and learning from the sidelines.
Her phone, placed nearby, had rung twice earlier and then gone completely silent.
Probably furious by now, she figured.
It was close to midnight when filming wrapped.
Lu Chuan double-checked everything they shot that day, made backups, and after quietly exchanging a few words with the staff, walked over to Chen Die.
“Want to head back together?” he asked.
“You’re staying at Zhouyu Hotel too?”
Lu Chuan nodded. “Yeah, all the staff are booked there.”
Chen Die nodded back. “Okay, give me a sec.”
She went to the dressing room to change out of costume. There wasn’t time to remove her makeup, so she still looked dusty and tired, but she didn’t care and just walked out like that.
It was a quiet night. The film base was split into two areas — one for tourists and the other for filming.
The tourist side was still lit up with a fireworks show, laughter from visitors echoing in the air.
Zhouyu Hotel wasn’t far, so Chen Die and Lu Chuan walked there side by side.
“Chen Die,” Lu Chuan said. His voice was pleasant.
“Yeah?”
“What I said this afternoon... do you understand what I meant?”
He was so direct about it — Chen Die realized she never really knew what kind of person Lu Chuan was before.
“I do,” she replied quickly. “But I haven’t thought about dating anyone yet.”
Lu Chuan asked calmly, “Is it because of Chen Shuyuan?”
“No,” Chen Die chuckled, not even bothering to hide her dislike. “She’s nothing. She has no say in my life.”
“Then... is it because of your ex?”
This time, Chen Die paused for a moment, then lowered her head and brushed her long hair back. “That’s part of it, yeah. We were together for a long time, so I think I need some time to get used to life without him.”
Lu Chuan had known Chen Die since his senior year, when she was a freshman.
He knew that she had been popular the moment she arrived at school, and that she already had a boyfriend back then.
By now, they really had been together for many years.
Earlier on set, he’d seen her take a call — presumably from that same ex. She only said one thing: “You’ve been drinking?”
Her tone was calm, which made it seem like they’d ended things peacefully. But then she abruptly hung up on him — twice.
Lu Chuan couldn’t quite read the situation, but it felt too personal to ask about, so he didn’t pry.
Their rooms weren’t on the same floor. Lu Chuan walked her to her door.
“Rest well. Good night.”
“Mm. Good night.”
Chen Die said goodbye, swiped her card, and entered the room.
The production team had booked standard rooms with queen beds. You could pay to upgrade, but Chen Die didn’t see the point.
She put a kettle on to boil, then sat down and let her pinned-up hair down.
For the role, her long hair had been styled messy, and it was badly tangled. While the water heated up, she worked slowly to comb it out, strand by strand.
With her hair swept to one side, one shoulder was exposed, her collarbone sharply outlined, and her skin glowing pale.
The kettle boiled, but her hair still wasn’t tangle-free. She poured herself a cup of hot water mixed with cold mineral water.
Then she walked over and drew the curtains.
Suddenly, her gaze paused — drawn to a familiar figure down below.
She lived on one of the upper floors, so she couldn’t clearly see the face. But she knew exactly what Wen Liang looked like when he smoked.
He was sitting on the edge of a flowerbed, cigarette between his lips, a thin veil of smoke softening his features. He took a deep drag, the ember flaring briefly, lighting up the sharp line of his jaw in the dark.
Chen Die stood by the window watching for a long time. Her cup of water went cold in her hand before she finally turned back and poured herself a refill.
She wasn’t surprised that Wen Liang had found her. If he wanted to, he could probably track her entire day — what she ate, where she went, who she talked to.
But what she didn’t expect... was that he’d actually come.
Suddenly, she remembered what Aunt Zhang had said.
Even though it was summer, the early morning air was heavy with dew. Wen Liang was only wearing a thin shirt. If he stayed out too long like that, he’d probably catch a cold or worse.
Chen Die didn’t hate Wen Liang.
Even after they broke up, she’d been heartbroken because of him. But the truth was, Wen Liang had always been the way he was. She was the one whose feelings kept growing, who kept hoping for more — and that’s why she eventually left, unsatisfied with what he could give.
Not to mention, she owed much of her stability over the past six years to the protection Wen Liang had quietly given her.
Chen Die finished the last of her water, sighed, grabbed a jacket, and prepared to head downstairs — only to glance out the window and find the spot below now completely empty. He was gone.
At that moment, the door was knocked.
Three loud knocks — no doorbell.
Chen Die walked over to look through the peephole but saw no one.
She opened the door, and there was Wen Liang leaning against the wall. Only when she opened the door did he turn his head to look at her.
He looked the same as always — short, neatly trimmed hair, dark eyes, chin slightly raised, his eyelids drooping lazily as he looked at her.
“You’re living alone and still dare to just open the door like that?” His voice was deep and hoarse — the first thing out of his mouth was a scolding.
Chen Die rolled her eyes. “I knew it was you.”
Wen Liang let out a low chuckle. “You’ve grown bold. Hanging up on me and still opening the door.”
She ignored his comment and frowned. “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
He reached for his cigarette pack, but Chen Die said, “If you smoke here, the fire alarm will go off in a minute.”
Wen Liang glanced at her, pulled out a cigarette and held it between his lips without lighting it. Then he straightened up, stepped closer, and leaned one hand against the doorframe, lowering his head to stare into her eyes from close range.
“Chen Die.” His voice was magnetic.
Just those two syllables made her ears tingle — his presence overwhelming and impossible to ignore.
The pressure was suffocating. Chen Die raised a hand and pushed his shoulder. “If you’re drunk, go sleep it off. Don’t come here throwing a fit.”
“I told you I’m not drunk.”
“Then why are you blocking my door?”
Wen Liang paused for a couple of seconds, then stood up straight without much expression and grabbed her chin.
Before Chen Die could react, he suddenly shoved her back inside the room. His hand clamped around her neck, two fingers pressing against her jawbone — the pressure sharp and painful.
The back of her head slammed into the wall.
Wen Liang raised one leg to kick the door shut. He looked down at her from above, his height giving him the advantage.
With the cigarette still between his lips, he muttered, “This is what drunk looks like.”
Chen Die’s head throbbed from the impact, and her jaw ached where he gripped her. Anger flared instantly — she started flailing her arms, hitting him wildly.
But Wen Liang didn’t block her. He pinned her to the wall with one hand, taking the hits to his face and neck without reacting, calm and unbothered.
When she tired herself out, Wen Liang easily caught her wrists and pinned them to the wall, stepping forward to trap her completely.
She was a mess — cornered and unable to move, hair tangled and falling loose, her face still smudged with makeup she hadn’t washed off.
Wen Liang stared at her for a while, then blew gently at the strands of bangs on her forehead. “What kind of crap were you filming today? You look awful.”
Chen Die’s eyes turned red with rage. “What the hell does that have to do with you?!”
“If it doesn’t, then damn — I just realized I’ve been spoiling you all these years for nothing. Four years ago, you had me teach you how to write contracts, and you’d already set me up back then.”
Chen Die snapped, “I’ll pay back every cent you spent on me.”
“You think I give a damn about your money?” Wen Liang said, sharp and ruthless. “Those trash papers you call a contract? I could tear them up with one hand.”
Chen Die shoved him again, and this time, she actually pushed him off.
She was out of breath, clutching her thin robe tighter around her.
With a few quick motions, she tied her messy hair up into a loose ponytail. Then she looked up at him again, trying to keep her voice calm. “I didn’t have you sign that contract because I wanted to leave.”
“At the time, our relationship had just started to change. I was happy... but also scared. Scared that one day you’d fall for someone else and kick me out, so I thought of a way to make you sign it.”
“The contract was to maintain our relationship for four years.”
Chen Die inhaled softly — for the first time, she openly admitted the careful thoughts she’d kept hidden all those years. “It wasn’t because I planned to leave after four years. I just hoped... you’d at least stay with me for those four years.”
She couldn’t bring herself to ask him for love outright, so she buried her hopes in a contract.
Back then, she had many boys chasing after her and she knew exactly where her strengths lay.
She thought maybe, just maybe, four years would be enough for Wen Liang to fall for her.
“Do you remember the pair of dance shoes you once bought me?”
Wen Liang’s lips tightened. He said nothing.
“I loved them, but I didn’t wear them on stage — they were too big. I couldn’t wear them. Just like us — what you gave me wasn’t what I wanted.”
Suddenly, Chen Die laughed.
She was beautiful when she laughed — the emotion spread slowly from her eyes and brows, a soft glow around her under the warm room light.
Wen Liang’s gaze darkened slightly.
But her next words weren’t so pleasant.
She tilted her head. “Mr. Wen, don’t tell me you came here tonight hoping to win me back?”
She’d been around him so long, she could mimic his tone and expression with perfect ease — that arrogant, dismissive attitude.
Wen Liang, of course, said nothing.
So Chen Die walked over and opened the door again, holding it there in silent invitation. Wen Liang left without looking back.
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