Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 22 - This Damn Man is Setting Her Up!

May 12, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Vesak Day~ 

Chapter 22: This Damn Man is Setting Her Up!

 

The next few days were quite comfortable for Chen Die on set.

 

Surprisingly, Wang Yunxi didn’t cause her any more trouble. Whether it was because she misunderstood her relationship with Chen Shao, or because Lu Chuan had a talk with her, no one knew.

 

Though Wang Yunxi still didn’t treat her kindly, Chen Die didn’t care—peace and quiet was all she wanted.

 

On Friday night, the first stage of this female-led coming-of-age drama wrapped, and everyone decided to go out to eat together.

 

There were plenty of snack shops around the film studio, and it was prime season for crayfish. Feng Zhi had booked a crayfish restaurant in advance, and as soon as filming ended, he led the entire cast and crew—on and off camera—to the place.

 

“Starting from tomorrow, you won’t need to deliberately put on ugly makeup anymore,” Lu Chuan said, walking beside her.

 

Chen Die chuckled. “I’ve gotten used to being ugly lately.”

 

Everyone walked into the crayfish restaurant together.

 

The owner was an old acquaintance of Feng Zhi’s and shouted for someone to take their large group upstairs to a private room.

 

“Come on, let me toast our amazing lead actors,” Feng Zhi said warmly. Off set, he was always kind and easygoing. He picked up his glass as soon as they entered.

 

Chen Die poured herself a drink. “Thank you, Director.”

 

“I really have to praise you, Chen Die,” Feng Zhi said, pointing at her with a smile. “Xiao Chuan really did me a huge favor. This leading role is hard to portray well, and it wasn’t easy to find someone with the right natural aura. You understood the character quickly. No wonder your mentor kept praising you to me before.”

 

Chen Die humbly waved it off, giving a polite and official compliment: “It’s because Director Feng and Director Lu explain things so clearly.”

 

Everyone sat around a long rectangular table, packed tightly, chatting with lively energy.

 

Fang Ruan, seated on Chen Die’s left, leaned over and whispered, “Your face looks so weird when you're trying to be humble. That compliment had zero emotion.”

 

Chen Die leaned in to whisper back, “So I’m supposed to say, ‘Director Feng is totally right, your taste is impeccable for picking me’?”

 

Fang Ruan: “…”

 

Chen Die’s playful jab wasn’t loud, but Lu Chuan overheard it from the other side.

 

He chuckled and lowered his voice: “Director Feng really does have good taste.”

 

“…” Chen Die suddenly felt the awkwardness of being caught talking behind someone’s back. “Stop teasing me.”

 

After being holed up shooting day and night, everyone was eager to let loose. The energy was sky-high, and the conversations flowed freely.

 

Chen Die was well-liked on set and had added many of the actors and crew on WeChat.

 

When she opened her Moments, she saw countless pictures of giant plates of crayfish— post after post in the same fiery red color, almost like the app had glitched.

 

Even Lu Chuan, who normally had the personality of a traditional old-school gentleman, had posted a picture of the crayfish.

 

Chen Die glanced at him—he was scrolling through Moments too, very seriously going through and liking everyone’s posts one by one.

 

She hadn’t meant to peek, but when he scrolled past something that wasn’t a picture of crayfish, she instinctively looked.

 

It was a post from Chen Shuyuan—a photo of her with Lin Quan.

 

Their faces were pressed together, looking very close and intimate.

 

Chen Die’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but she quickly and calmly looked away.

 

Wen Liang returned to Yan City after a week-long business trip. It was already dark. 

 

After finalizing the partnership, he handed the follow-up tasks and documentation to Zhu Qicong.

 

Leaving the airport, they got into the car.

 

Suddenly, Wen Liang said, “Go to the Zhouyu Hotel near the film studio.”

 

Even though he had been overseas, Zhu Qicong had still been reporting Chen Die’s situation to him daily. Naturally, he knew who was staying at the Zhouyu Hotel.

 

To be honest, Zhu Qicong hoped Miss Chen would come back.

 

The entire office had been under a cloud these days—everyone walking on eggshells, afraid of triggering Wen Liang’s temper.

 

Back when Miss Chen was still around, Wen Liang had never been this moody.

 

The film studio was in the south of the city, and the airport in the north. They sped along the elevated highway.

 

Zhu Qicong parked in front of the Zhouyu Hotel.

 

Wen Liang got out of the car and tossed out a curt order: “You can head back.”

 

Zhu Qicong paused. When he looked back, Wen Liang had already shut the door and was striding into the hotel.

 

“…"

 

That was fast.

 

Is he planning to just move into Miss Chen’s room?!

 

Wen Liang entered the hotel. The lobby manager, who recognized him as a shareholder, immediately came forward. “Mr. Wen, will you be staying tonight?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’ll arrange it right away.” The manager logged into the system and handed him a keycard. “This is the executive suite.”

 

Wen Liang didn’t take it. “I want the room across from 8802.”

 

The lobby manager didn’t quite register it at first—8802 was just a standard single-bed room on the 8th floor. He hesitated. “You mean the room across from 8802?”

 

“Yeah.” Wen Liang replied flatly, rubbing his brow with a hint of impatience.

 

“…The room across from 8802 is 8803, and it’s already occupied,” the manager said nervously. “Would 8801 next door be okay?”

 

This time, Wen Liang was surprisingly agreeable. “That’s fine.”

 

“How long will you be staying?”

 

“Let’s start with one month.”

 

“…A-Alright.”

 

They were basically offering up a living deity to the hotel now.

 

“Has the crew member staying here returned yet?”

 

Wen Liang asked casually, and the manager didn’t detect any hidden motive. He shook his head. “Not yet. They usually get back pretty late.” 

 

Wen Liang made a soft “mm” in response, took the room key, and headed up to the 8th floor by elevator. 

 

Beep—the door to 8801 unlocked.

 

Wen Liang probably hadn’t stayed in a room this small in his entire life. A few steps in and he was already at the bed. The bathroom was just a tiny few square meters with only the most basic amenities.

 

Was Zhouyu Hotel going out of business or something?

 

He frowned, finding it hard to imagine that Chen Die had been living in this shabby little place day in and day out, going nowhere but the film set.

 

For the past six years, Chen Die had been spoiled by him—she wouldn’t even take bitter medicine, yet she’d been staying in a dump like this?

 

Soon, room service rang the doorbell.

 

They rolled in a cart with fine red wine and premium toiletries—items meant for the executive suite, all sent over just for him.

 

After showering, Wen Liang stepped out, the front of his shirt soaked, showing off his defined chest and strong build.

 

The hallway outside was still quiet.

 

Chen Die hadn’t returned yet.

 

Wen Liang opened a bottle of wine and sat by the window, eyes half-closed.

 

He knew full well that something had been off with him lately.

 

He’d always been self-contained, unaffected by anyone. Even when Chen Die used to bicker with him, it never fazed him in the slightest. But ever since she left, it felt like his whole being had sprung a leak.

 

Especially during the business trip—he kept thinking about her all week.

 

Her laughter, her temper, and finally that resolute “Wen Liang, goodbye.”

 

Wen Liang was a direct person. Since he couldn’t stop thinking about her, he just came straight here.

 

The room’s soundproofing wasn’t great, and soon there was a noisy ruckus—crew members riding the elevator up, laughing and chatting. Chen Die was the only one staying on the 8th floor, so everyone waved goodbye as she got off.

 

Wen Liang tilted his chin slightly, the wine glass spinning between his fingers. The red liquid swirled gently along the glass wall.

 

He heard Chen Die swipe her keycard and turn the handle—she was now just next door.

 

Wen Liang stayed seated, unmoving, until footsteps echoed in the hallway again and the doorbell rang next door.

 

Then he heard a male voice: “Chen Die, I bought the stuff for you!”

 

Only then did Wen Liang’s brows furrow. He recognized that voice—it was that director. He set the wine glass down and opened the sliding door to the balcony.

 

Just as Chen Die was about to open the door, there was a loud thud outside on the balcony.

 

Startled, she turned sharply toward the sound. A figure had landed—white shirt, black pants—and calmly pushed open the balcony door, stepping into her room.

 

…Wen Liang???

 

Where the hell did he come from??

 

Did he climb up to the 8th floor??

 

Chen Die stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief, completely forgetting to speak.

 

Outside, Lu Chuan knocked again. “Junior, are you there?”

 

Just as she was about to respond, Wen Liang strode over and pinned her against the wall. He leaned in close to her ear and murmured, “Tell him to leave.”

 

…That was Wen Liang’s voice.

 

And the scent on him—that was Wen Liang’s, too.

 

So this man in front of her… was actually real and not just a hallucination?

 

He was seriously something else. If he wanted to, he could probably shake hands with the sun.

 

Chen Die, momentarily forgetting about Lu Chuan and their awkward post-breakup situation, widened her eyes and whispered urgently, “How did you even get in here?!”

 

Wen Liang didn’t answer. He just lowered his gaze and looked at her.

 

Outside, Lu Chuan said, “Junior?”

 

“I’m here!” Chen Die finally responded. “Hang on a sec, senior!”

 

Wen Liang clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. He pushed his leg between hers, braced one hand against the wall, and effortlessly trapped her in place.

 

Chen Die tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. She was no match for Wen Liang when it came to strength.

 

“Are you crazy?!” she glared at him.

 

Wen Liang pressed, relentless: “Either tell him to leave, or open the door and let him see who’s in your room.”

 

“Psycho!”

 

Chen Die knew Wen Liang too well—he was absolutely the type to shamelessly show up in her room and let others imagine all sorts of things.

 

They stared each other down for a moment. When it came to being unhinged, Chen Die was no match.

 

“Sorry, senior, something suddenly came up. I can’t open the door right now,” she called out.

 

Lu Chuan: “Is your hand okay?”

 

“It’s fine, just a tiny cut.”

 

Lu Chuan didn’t question it, assuming it was maybe something personal, and said, “I left the band-aids at your door. Grab them later.”

 

“Okay, thank you, senior.”

 

Footsteps faded—Lu Chuan had left. Only then did Wen Liang glance down at her hand. “What happened to your hand?”

 

“Nothing,” Chen Die replied, clearly annoyed.

 

There was a small cut on her index finger, nicked by a splinter from a bamboo skewer while eating grilled skewers earlier. A tiny drop of blood still welled up.

 

She finally pushed him away, wrapped a tissue around her finger, and asked, “How did you get into my room?”

 

“I’m staying next door,” Wen Liang said.

 

“?” Chen Die was genuinely stunned. She turned to look at the balcony outside, and then suddenly had a realization. “Don’t tell me you jumped over here?”

 

“What else? Flew?” Wen Liang answered like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

???

 

Are you seriously 28 years old?

 

Aging like fine wine or what?

 

Chen Die had already noticed the gap between the two balconies earlier—it was a big one. If he’d slipped while jumping, he could’ve fallen straight down.

 

Wen Liang noticed blood seeping through the tissue and frowned. He looked down and sent a message on his phone.

 

A moment later, the doorbell rang again. This time it was a hotel staff member. Wen Liang went to open the door and brought in two small bags. 

 

Both bags had boxes of band-aids—one freshly delivered, the other was the one Lu Chuan had left on the door handle. 

 

Without changing expression, Wen Liang tossed one of the bags straight into the trash.

 

Chen Die: “……”

 

Then he ripped open the other box carelessly, tearing the packaging apart. He pulled out a band-aid and tossed the rest onto the table, leaving them scattered everywhere.

 

He walked back to Chen Die, grabbed her wrist, and peeled off the tissue wrapped around her finger. A fresh drop of blood had just formed.

 

Her finger was pale and delicate, even the drop of blood looked oddly beautiful.

 

Wen Liang’s gaze darkened. He lowered his head slightly and licked the blood off her fingertip. 

 

Chen Die’s entire body stiffened, a chill rushing down her spine. That instantly sobered her up.

 

She yanked her hand back, face flushing with anger. “Wen Liang, are you insane?!”

 

He licked his lips, completely unfazed by what he’d just done, and pulled her hand back again. This time, he quickly applied the band-aid.

 

Chen Die had no idea what Wen Liang was trying to do. The last time they’d seen each other at the charity gala, he’d acted like he didn’t even recognize her.

 

Even when she thanked him before leaving, he hadn’t responded at all. 

 

“Mr. Wen, considering the nature of our current relationship, it’s really inappropriate for us to be in the same room,” she said, clearly telling him to leave, nodding toward the door. “Please go.”

 

Wen Liang replied, “Given our relationship, if someone sees me walking out of your room, that’d be inappropriate too.”

 

Chen Die: “……”

 

“Or I could go back that way.” He gestured to the balcony.

 

Chen Die frowned. “Can you stop doing things without thinking about the consequences? What if you missed your step?”

 

Wen Liang was quiet for two seconds, then gave her a slight smile. “So worried about me?”

 

Only then did Chen Die realize—this bastard was baiting her!

 

“Jump!” she snapped, flustered and furious. “Jump right now. I’ll record a video. If you fall and break your arm or leg, I need proof it’s got nothing to do with me! Not jumping means you’re not a man!”

 

Wen Liang tsked again.

 

His little leopard was baring her fangs and acting out again.

 

He took another step forward.

 

His entire aura shifted—no longer relaxed, now heavy and intense. 

 

Alone in a room, with a man like Wen Liang—moody, unpredictable, and lacking in boundaries—Chen Die instinctively took a step back.

 

Her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she fell backward, sitting down.

 

Wen Liang leaned in.

 

The pressure of his presence loomed over her.

 

Chen Die instinctively leaned back, bracing herself on the bed with both hands.

 

As he spoke, there was a faint scent of red wine on his breath. Chen Die had drunk two beers earlier—now their breaths mingled, warm and dizzying. 

 

He said, “You never fail to disappoint me.”

 

“You can piss me off with just a few words.”

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