Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 28 - “I'll kill you.”
Chapter 28: “I'll kill you.”
Wenyuan Group operated with remarkable efficiency.
By evening, Fang Ruan had already received a call from Wenyuan Group’s PR department regarding a potential collaboration. After exchanging contact information, they immediately sent her the intent agreement document.
“This is wild, Chen Die. That Mr. Wen coming to the set last time—don’t tell me he really has a thing for you?” Fang Ruan said as she walked over to Chen Die.
Chen Die turned her head. “What’s up?”
“They’re giving us the whole endorsement gig for the opening of the gourmet food plaza in the development zone. Just got the call.” Fang Ruan scrolled down as she spoke, muttering, “It’s just that the endorsement fee isn’t very generous.”
“…” Chen Die held out her hand. “Let me see.”
Fang Ruan handed her the phone.
The endorsement gig itself was pretty straightforward—just a few appearances during the food plaza's opening period. There might be some promotional tie-ins with the film and TV side of things, but that would be a separate contract.
But Chen Die didn’t want to keep benefiting from Wen Liang's influence when they’d already gone their separate ways.
She handed the phone back to Fang Ruan. “What do you think?”
“The deal itself is a good one. According to the brief, the film studio project site alone is worth 6 billion yuan, and the future commercial value is enormous. If you land the role as the lead ambassador, the long-term gains could be endless.” Fang Ruan analyzed seriously. “The fee may be low, but it makes sense. Most of the real value is intangible.”
Chen Die frowned slightly, her fingers idly playing with the hairpin.
Fang Ruan caught sight of it and gasped, rushing over to rescue it from her hands. “Whoa there, my dear ancestor, don’t break Mr. Wen’s precious item before we even sign the contract.”
“…” Chen Die watched her carefully place the hairpin back in its velvet box. “But I don’t really want to sign it.”
Her voice was soft, lacking conviction, because she didn’t quite know how to explain her reason for refusing.
Fang Ruan: “Why not?”
“......”
“If it’s about the low fee, we can negotiate with Wenyuan.”
“It’s not that.” Chen Die sounded a little defeated.
“Then what is it?”
Chen Die was silent.
“What’s going on in that head of yours? I told you to get closer to Qi Cheng, and you didn’t listen. Your attitude toward Director Lu is also a mess. And now you want to turn down a great endorsement, too? Why did you even enter the entertainment industry—did you think it was a monastery for spiritual cultivation?”
Chen Die muttered, “Can’t I just act?”
“Well, then you need to have the leverage. If you’re just buried in filming all day with zero exposure, which production team would even dare to cast you?”
“…” Chen Die was worn down by her nagging. She raised her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll sign! The endorsement’s yours to handle!”
Fang Ruan huffed, “Now that’s more like it.”
Just as they wrapped up their conversation, Feng Zhi called her over from the camera. Chen Die jogged over. Feng Zhi said, “When everyone else wraps up, stay behind to shoot a few horseback scenes.”
“Got it,” Chen Die nodded.
By the time night fell and the air had grown chilly, she was still in costume, starting to feel cold before it was finally her turn.
A staff member brought over a horse. Chen Die took the reins and gently patted its head.
She’d been riding this horse for several days and had become more familiar with it—not afraid anymore.
“Haven’t had enough to eat, huh?” Chen Die stroked its mane, talking to it softly like she was talking to herself. “You look so sluggish. Tired of carrying me around?”
Of course, the horse didn’t respond.
Nearby, Feng Zhi finished setting up the filming area. Lu Chuan had also set up his equipment, and standing beside him was Chen Shuyuan.
Chen Die had to admire her persistence. She’d been glued to Lu Chuan’s side all day, even though he barely spoke to her. She just sat there, apparently unfazed.
“Chen Die.” Lu Chuan nodded toward Feng Zhi. “You can head over.”
Chen Die led the horse into the camera frame.
The horses at the film studio were well-trained and calm, with sleek dark coats. Dressed in a flowing blue robe, Chen Die’s sleeves billowed slightly in the breeze, giving her a natural, heroic presence.
She mounted the horse nimbly without needing any assistance.
The camera tracks were already laid out.
Lu Chuan zoomed in for a close-up and called for the clapperboard to start.
Then, suddenly—something went wrong. The horse was spooked and reared up on its front legs. Despite Chen Die pulling hard on the reins, she couldn’t hold on. Her body lost balance completely, and her only instinct was to pull her feet out of the stirrups.
She fell off the horse, her elbow slamming into the rough gravel, scraping painfully against the sharp stones. Then came the sound of fabric tearing—followed by a sharp pain in her thigh. The cold night air brushed the spot, making her feel a stinging chill. It felt like something had torn open.
Chen Die couldn’t make a sound. Sweat beaded on her forehead instantly.
People swarmed over her in a panic, blocking the light that had been shining on her.
The startled horse was quickly pulled away to prevent further injury. Her skirt had snagged on the metal buckle of the saddle and torn apart, leaving a large exposed area. Her pale, slender leg was now revealed, with a gash across her thigh that was shockingly deep.
The next second, the crowd around them was pulled back. Wen Liang took off his suit jacket, wrapped his arms around her, tied the sleeves around her waist, and then tore open the obstructive fabric of her long dress all the way above the wound.
“Has someone called an ambulance?” Wen Liang turned his head and asked in a low voice.
One of them quickly replied, “Yes, yes, it’s on the way!”
Chen Die had started to recover from the sharp pain that had overwhelmed her at first. Her voice still trembled slightly. “I’m fine. I think it’s just a twisted leg.”
Wen Liang shot her a glance, face grim, saying nothing.
The security team quickly brought over a first aid kit that had been prepared for emergencies. Lu Chuan took it and ran over. “Let’s disinfect it first to avoid infection. Once the ambulance gets here, they’ll do a scan to check for any real injuries.”
“I’ll do it.”
Without waiting for discussion, Wen Liang took the kit from him.
The man’s expensive suit was now tied around Chen Die’s waist, soiled with dirt and gravel. His white shirt was stained with blood, and his expression was dark, lips pressed into a firm line, his whole demeanor tense and commanding.
When the accident happened, no one had time to question why Wen Liang was even there. It wasn’t until now that they realized something was off.
Chen Die’s ankle was held in his hand—warm and burning to the touch.
She didn’t want people to get the wrong idea, so she sat up and reached for the tweezers. “I can do it myself.”
Wen Liang looked up and scolded her, “You can do it my ass.”
“......”
OK.
Wen Liang first used the tweezers to remove the gravel stuck to her leg, then wiped away the dust with an alcohol pad before starting to disinfect the wound.
Once the blood was wiped off, it didn’t look quite as horrifying as it had at first.
Chen Die had never been particularly afraid of anything in her life—not the bugs, mice, or horror films that so many girls were scared of. But she was afraid of pain and suffering.
Wen Liang used to call her delicate, and honestly, he wasn’t wrong. She had an unusually sensitive response to pain and bitterness.
She didn’t have the bandwidth to care about the strange looks people were giving them now. The moment the alcohol touched her wound, a wave of sharp pain shot through her. She braced herself on her hands, body going rigid, forgetting even how to breathe.
Wen Liang glanced at the wound and said, “Might need stitches.”
“No stitches.” Chen Die raised her chin defiantly like a martyr, refusing with all her pride.
Wen Liang paused, holding the alcohol swab mid-air, and gently asked, “Can you endure it?”
“…Yes.”
And so, Wen Liang continued disinfecting.
PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN!!!!!
Why the hell was this man so ruthless?!?
Was he doing this on purpose???!!!
Chen Die had originally thought it was just a small cut on her leg, but the way Wen Liang was treating it so harshly made her feel like amputation was the only outcome.
Luckily, the ambulance arrived quickly.
Wen Liang bent down and gently picked her up.
“You f*cking—” Chen Die couldn’t hold it in anymore. She stretched her neck and whispered angrily in his ear, “Can you please be gentler? What if I’ve got a fracture or something?”
Wen Liang walked briskly toward the ambulance with her in his arms. “I checked already. No fracture. Just a deep cut.”
…Oh? You have that skill now?
Earlier, when Chen Die had reached down to check her leg, her hands had gotten bloody. Now, with Wen Liang carrying her and her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, she noticed that blood had transferred to his neck as well.
His shirt was also smeared with bloodstains, which looked pretty frightening.
She paused, then looked up.
There was a sheen of sweat on Wen Liang’s temple, and his brows were tightly furrowed.
The paramedics gently placed Chen Die on a stretcher inside the ambulance. The vehicle was cramped and only allowed one person to accompany her. Wen Liang had already followed them in. The rest of the crew would drive over separately.
Fang Ruan had driven to set that morning and quickly pulled her car out of the garage.
The scene Chen Die had been filming was just a pick-up shot after the day’s official shoot had wrapped. Only the staff remained on set—other actors had already returned to the hotel.
Feng Zhi and Lu Chuan rushed to get in the car, too, but Chen Shuyuan grabbed Lu Chuan’s arm. “Senior, are you really going over this late?”
“Yeah.” Lu Chuan, for once, looked visibly annoyed and shook off her hand before getting in the car.
Feng Zhi had kept Wen Liang’s number from earlier and quickly called him to ask for an update.
After hanging up, he said, “They’re almost at the hospital. The paramedic in the ambulance did a preliminary check—just an injury to her leg, nothing serious otherwise.”
“That’s good,” Fang Ruan breathed a sigh of relief. Then she added, “But what about the rest of the shoot?”
That was exactly what Feng Zhi was worrying about. The shooting schedule had already been locked in when they signed the contract. Qi Cheng, for example, had other commitments coming up soon. “Let’s wait for the results from the hospital and then figure out how to adjust.”
After a moment of silence in the car, Feng Zhi asked, “Did Chen Die know Mr. Wen beforehand?”
Everyone on set with eyes could tell there was something unusual between the two of them. Fang Ruan certainly knew—but Chen Die had never brought it up before.
Wait a minute—something wasn’t adding up.
Actually, she had mentioned it once.
Back when Fang Ruan had asked who was delivering her breakfast every day, Chen Die had eventually said it was Mr. Wen.
Fang Ruan hadn’t believed it at all, but looking back now, it really might’ve been him.
Fang Ruan’s little head was filled with big question marks.
What exactly did Mr. Wen want with a small-time actress like her? Hadn’t he said before that the person he liked was not gentle, not generous, not family-oriented, basically like a man?
That didn’t describe Chen Die at all??
The only overlap might be ‘not family-oriented,’ but was that really the point? Chen Die’s face was both pure and seductive—nothing like a man.
Could it be that he had some kind of tomboy at home, and now he wanted to turn Chen Die into a little side piece?
The more Fang Ruan thought about it, the more uneasy she felt, worried her little actress would be tainted.
Though with Mr. Wen’s elegant looks, ‘tainted’ might not be the right word… but if word got out, it’d still be a stain on her reputation.
“Mm, you could say they know each other, but they’re not close,” Fang Ruan made something up casually. “They met a few times through our company boss.”
As soon as Chen Die entered the hospital, she was taken for imaging.
“We’ll expedite it. Results should be out in about half an hour,” the radiology doctor said.
“Okay, thank you.”
Chen Die climbed off the machine, limping as she opened the door to leave.
Wen Liang was waiting outside. When he saw her come out, he immediately stepped forward and bent down to carry her.
“Stop stop stop—” Chen Die cried out quickly, pushing him away. “We’re in a hospital, don’t carry me!”
Wen Liang frowned. “Your leg’s like this; how are you going to walk?”
“What if someone sees us? Some people still recognize me.”
Wen Liang replied, “What’s there to hide? Didn’t you just go trending from a livestream with someone? Now you don’t want to be seen?”
Chen Die: …huh?
When did it become her livestream with someone?
Not wanting to argue with his nonsense, she hopped forward along the wall, but only a few steps in, Wen Liang grabbed her again, and she almost slipped. Just as she was about to snap at him, he said, “Stay here. I’m going to borrow a wheelchair.”
“…Don’t.” Chen Die refused again.
Sure enough, Wen Liang’s face darkened with annoyance.
“......”
Chen Die even felt like she was being unreasonable. But she was still wearing a torn costume, with a suit jacket tied around her waist, looking a mess and stained with blood.
She couldn’t bear to imagine being pushed around in a wheelchair through the bustling hospital looking like this.
“I said no.” She emphasized her answer firmly.
Wen Liang still stared at her, silent, clearly on the verge of losing his temper.
“I’m just being dramatic, so what?” Chen Die snapped before he could speak, raising her chin. “I look hideous. I’d rather die.”
Wen Liang took a step forward, pulled off the suit jacket tied around her waist, and tossed it over her head, completely covering her face.
“Pampered brat,” he said mockingly.
The next second, Chen Die felt her legs lift—he had picked her up again, holding her behind the knees and under her back.
She smelled that familiar scent on Wen Liang.
As they left radiology, the hospital returned to its usual noisy, bustling state. Chen Die didn’t dare move, clutching the jacket over her head with two slender fingers, afraid it would fall off.
“Which floor is general surgery on?” Wen Liang’s voice came from above.
Chen Die replied, “How would I know?”
“It’s on the slip, in my pants pocket.” He jostled her a bit. “Get it for me.”
“......”
So Chen Die awkwardly reached around his arm, struggling to fish the slip out of his pocket. Because of the angle, their arms were pressed tightly together.
Her ears felt a little hot—thankfully, she was covered by the jacket.
Passersby gave Wen Liang curious glances at the difficult pose, but since they couldn’t see her, Chen Die felt a bit more at ease.
“Third floor. Elevator, then turn right,” she said from under the jacket.
Only when Wen Liang carried her into the doctor’s office and shut the door did he pull the jacket off her head.
The doctor asked, “What happened here?”
Chen Die stretched out her leg. “Scraped it.”
“Oh wow, that’s pretty serious.” The doctor bent down to look and gave the same verdict as Wen Liang: “You’ll need a few stitches.”
Just hearing the words ‘a few stitches’ made Chen Die’s scalp tingle.
“Can’t we skip the stitches? Just bandage it?” she made a last-ditch plea.
“This kind of wound is like a laceration. Without stitches, the skin won’t hold together properly—it’s under too much tension.” The doctor pressed the skin around the injury to demonstrate how deep it was.
That press nearly made Chen Die black out from the pain.
“Stitch it,” Wen Liang decided for her.
With complete calm.
Still catching her breath from the pain, Chen Die punched him in the side. “You’re not the one in pain!”
“If you don’t stitch it now, you’ll suffer even more later,” Wen Liang said.
Chen Die wasn’t ready to give up. “There’s no other way?”
“Sweetheart,” the doctor said, “your boyfriend’s right. Stitching it will help it heal faster, and we’ll do local anesthesia—it’ll only hurt a bit once the anesthesia wears off. You only need three stitches.”
Chen Die immediately said, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Wen Liang chuckled lightly. “Hurry up and stitch it.”
Chen Die whipped her head around to glare at him. “Wen Liang, are you bored or what!”
“Once it’s numbed, it won’t hurt.”
But in the end, there was no avoiding it. Chen Die still had filming to do later and wanted her leg to heal quickly. Since the doctor insisted, she had to face the stitches even if she was scared.
The doctor applied local anesthesia and cleaned the wound again before preparing to stitch.
But whether it was Chen Die’s constitution or something else, the anesthesia didn’t take well, and she could still feel distinct pain as the stitching began.
“Ah—” Chen Die hissed, clenching her teeth tightly.
Suddenly, a warm, dry hand blocked her view, pulling her gently back into a familiar chest that smelled faintly of cigarettes. Her head rested against Wen Liang’s chest.
She was terrified of pain, and having her eyes covered helped ease the shock of the sight, but every prick of the needle still made her tremble.
Wen Liang’s arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders from behind.
He lowered his head. The short hairs near his temple brushed against her neck, slightly prickly.
“Still hurts?” he whispered in her ear.
The proximity amplified every breath and heartbeat.
“This is your fault,” Chen Die trembled and growled through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Alright,” Wen Liang replied. “Once your leg heals, kill me then.”
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