Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 29 - Vent (one's) Anger
Chapter 29: Vent (one's) Anger
It was probably due to her unique constitution that the anesthesia only fully kicked in later.
But because of the earlier pain, Chen Die still didn’t dare relax, clutching Wen Liang’s sleeve tightly, her body still trembling slightly.
It wasn’t until the doctor said ‘all done’ that Chen Die finally breathed a sigh of relief, and Wen Liang let go.
Not long after, the X-ray they had taken earlier was delivered. The doctor glanced at it and said, “The bone’s fine. Now that the wound is stitched up, everything’s okay.”
While he clicked through the system to prescribe anti-inflammatory medication, he glanced at them again and, with the tone of someone experienced, said to Wen Liang, “Your boyfriend’s got a sharp tongue, but he clearly cares a lot. What’s the point in arguing with a young girl? You’ll never win against them.”
Before Chen Die could say anything, the doctor had already printed out the prescription. “Go to the pharmacy to pick up the medicine. Come back in a week to remove the stitches.”
“Alright, thank you, doctor,” Chen Die said, getting up carefully while balancing on one leg, using the desk for support.
Wen Liang held up the suit jacket. “How do we get out?”
Good question.
Chen Die couldn’t bring herself to say ‘carry me out again,’ but luckily, as soon as the door opened, Fang Ruan, Feng Zhi, and Lu Chuan had arrived. With more people around, she didn’t have to worry about getting photographed.
“Are you okay?” Fang Ruan ran over and grabbed her hand. “Is it serious?”
“No bones injured, it’s all taken care of,” Chen Die replied, then turned to Feng Zhi. “Director Feng, what are your plans for the next scenes?”
“It’s okay,” Feng Zhi said. “Lu Chuan and I will figure it out. We’ll postpone your action scenes for now, so don’t stress too much.”
Chen Die nodded. “Actually, I think I’ll be fine. The regular scenes shouldn’t be affected.”
Wen Liang, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke with a sarcastic tone: “When your wound splits open, and you need another round of stitches, I’ll see if you cry.”
Chen Die: “……”
Would it kill him to keep quiet?
On the way over, everyone had already been curious about their relationship, and now, hearing this, they became even more convinced about their suspicions.
Feng Zhi tried to ease the atmosphere. “Health comes first. You’re still young; don’t let something like this leave a lasting problem.”
Just then, Lu Chuan’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and said, “Props team,” and picked up the call in front of everyone.
“Director Lu, we rechecked the horse Chen Die was riding and found a small nail in the girth strap attached to the saddle. We now suspect this nail caused the horse to panic.”
Lu Chuan froze, frowning. “You didn’t check that earlier?”
“We do a general check every morning. This horse was also used in the morning shoot, so we only checked the basic connections. The nail was on the inside of the girth strap, not visible to the eye,” the props team leader said. “We’re now suspecting someone may have intentionally done this.”
Feng Zhi caught something wrong: “What happened?”
Lu Chuan instructed them to check the surveillance footage, hung up, and explained the situation to everyone.
“What?!” Fang Ruan was shocked. “Who would dare do something like this? We got lucky today—what if someone had died?!”
Lu Chuan said, “Calm down. We’re investigating it now.”
Checking the security footage would take some time.
Chen Die’s anesthesia hadn’t worn off yet, so Fang Ruan requested a private hospital room, and everyone went there to wait for news.
Since hearing it was intentional, Wen Liang’s face had darkened. He sat silently in the corner of the room.
Fang Ruan no longer had the mood to gossip about Chen Die and Wen Liang’s relationship. She helped Chen Die sit at the foot of the bed and leaned over to whisper, “Do you think it might’ve been Wang Yunxi?”
“I don’t think so,” Chen Die hesitated.
“Why not? She’s the only one in the crew you don’t get along with. If not her, then who else could’ve done this to you?”
“I can’t explain it, but Wang Yunxi is the kind of stupid who’s stupid in broad daylight. She would hit me in front of everyone, not pull this kind of thing behind the scenes.”
Fang Ruan: “……”
“Then who do you think it could be?”
A sudden thought struck Chen Die—
Chen Shuyuan.
But something like this couldn’t be said without evidence, and the surveillance footage hadn’t come back yet. Chen Die shook her head. “Not sure.”
After a while, the props team called back. The surveillance footage didn’t catch anything suspicious, but it did capture a shot of Chen Shuyuan walking past the stables.
Just as Chen Die had suspected.
Lu Chuan put the call on speaker. Wen Liang sat there, tapping his fingers on the table, deep in thought.
Lu Chuan understood the implication. Since Chen Shuyuan had come to the set because of him, it was his responsibility to handle it. Especially since he was aware of the friction between her and Chen Die.
When Chen Shuyuan received Lu Chuan’s call, her driver had just pulled into the driveway.
Lu Chuan rarely called her directly. Chen Shuyuan instantly knew what this call was about, and her heart sank. Her grip on the phone tightened.
“Young miss, we’re home,” the driver reminded her.
“Didn’t you see I’m on a call?” Chen Shuyuan snapped irritably, then took a deep breath and answered the phone in a sweeter tone. “Senior, you called?”
“Yeah. Do you have time to come to the hospital now?” Lu Chuan asked.
Chen Shuyuan: “What’s wrong? Is Chen Die seriously hurt?”
“Yes. Do you have time?”
Lu Chuan didn’t elaborate, but his tone left her with no room to refuse. “...I was just about to eat. I’ll come after dinner.”
“Okay. As soon as you can,” Lu Chuan said and hung up.
Chen Shuyuan slowly lowered the phone, hesitated, and then exhaled deeply before telling the driver, “To the city hospital.”
She had never meant for anything irreversible to happen to Chen Die—something like that would definitely draw the attention of her father and grandfather. She had only wanted to cause her some trouble.
Ideally, enough to stop her from continuing filming.
She just didn’t want to see Chen Die’s smooth-sailing life.
Back when Chen Die was with Wen Liang, who controlled the entire Wenyuan Group, she seemed untouchable. Now that they’d broken up, Chen Shuyuan thought she’d finally get to see Chen Die fall from grace.
But she didn’t.
She went on variety shows, gained a lot of fans, and landed the lead in a major director’s film, and even during the few days Chen Shuyuan had spent on set visiting Lu Chuan, she saw how much the crew liked Chen Die.
Including Lu Chuan.
In that environment, it became glaringly obvious—Lu Chuan looked at Chen Die differently.
She was consumed with jealousy.
That nail—she had spotted it when she happened to walk past the props room on her way to the restroom.
Not far off, some crew members were bringing back the horses used for the morning shoot and brushing them down.
“Director Feng said we need to swap that horse for a slightly taller one. The height difference between Qi Cheng and Chen Die doesn’t look good in close-up shots.”
“We’re not swapping Chen Die’s horse, right?”
“No, not that one. We’ll still need it this afternoon. Just take it out to graze first.”
That’s what Chen Shuyuan overheard them say.
She hadn’t had the thought yet—only turned to glance at the horse when she heard Chen Die’s name.
On her way back from the restroom, the nail lying at the props room door caught the sunlight and gleamed. No staff was around, and that horse was still grazing.
Without even thinking, she walked over, picked up the nail, and—wrinkling her nose at the stench near the horse—stuffed it into the girth strap.
Chen Shuyuan had anticipated this exact outcome: the horse would be startled, Chen Die would fall, injure her leg, and it would affect filming.
Or, ideally, stop filming altogether.
She had made sure no one was around and that there were no surveillance cameras. As long as she never admitted it, no one could prove anything.
Lu Chuan sent her the hospital room number, and she followed the directions he gave. As she stepped out of the elevator, she immediately saw him.
“How’s Chen Die’s leg?” she asked first.
“Three stitches. She’s still waiting for the anesthesia to wear off.”
Lu Chuan led her to an empty stairwell, opened his palm, revealing the nail sent over by the props team, and asked bluntly, without any preamble: “Did you do this?”
Chen Shuyuan hadn’t expected Lu Chuan to question her so directly and rudely. Her eyes widened at once. “What are you saying?! Are you accusing me?”
“How do you know what I’m talking about?”
“You’re looking at me like that—of course I can guess what you mean!” she quickly argued.
“Chen Shuyuan, this is a serious matter. I hope you’ll tell me the truth.” Lu Chuan’s voice was stern, his usual warmth gone. “Luckily, nothing too terrible happened. If it was you, I hope you’ll apologize to Chen Die and never do something like this again.”
“So basically, you’ve already decided I’m the one who scared the horse?”
Her eyes turned red with tears, her voice catching. “You were like this back when we were in student council, too. Have you ever considered things from my perspective? You always side with Chen Die. How can you suspect me without proof?”
“We have surveillance footage. It shows you walking past the stable around noon,” Lu Chuan said.
She froze, blood rushing to her head—she was sure she had checked for cameras and seen none.
“Just walking past the stable proves nothing.”
Lu Chuan frowned.
They really had no solid evidence. And though his line of questioning had produced no confession.
As a director with a sharp intuition for people, Lu Chuan now felt more certain than ever that she was the one behind it.
Just then, the stairwell door opened.
Wen Liang walked in. He was still wearing that blood-stained white shirt. Despite his disheveled look, he carried a kind of aloof elegance.
The moment he entered, the atmosphere in the stairwell plummeted to freezing.
He appeared relaxed, leaning lazily against the wall. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit one and called her name: “Chen. Shu. Yuan.”
It was the first time Wen Liang had ever said her name.
Normally, he didn’t bother to remember—or speak—the names of people like her.
At the sight of him, Chen Shuyuan instinctively took a step back.
She was afraid of him.
But hadn’t he and Chen Die broken up? Why was he here?
“If I remember correctly, I warned you years ago,” Wen Liang said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and tapping the ash. “If you ever dared to mess with Chen Die again—go ahead and try.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” she cried, pushed to the edge by the pressure from both sides.
Wen Liang was unmoved. His eyelids drooped slightly, his eyes cold as he looked down at her. “You didn’t?”
“No!”
“Oh?” He nodded. “Then who do you think did it?”
Chen Shuyuan stammered, “How should I know? I’m not even part of the crew.”
“Chen Die filmed for months without any accidents. Then you show up, and she falls off a horse?”
“What does that have to do with me? Do you have proof I did it?” she protested, repeating the same defense she gave Lu Chuan.
But Wen Liang clearly wasn’t buying it.
“I don’t care about proof,” he said flatly. “You prove it wasn’t you—or I’ll assume it was.”
He stepped forward. “I don’t mind if you’re wrongly accused. As long as it makes Chen Die feel better, it’s worth it.”
Chen Shuyuan stared at him in disbelief.
But Wen Liang was calm—dangerously so. He wasn’t threatening her. He meant every word.
He tossed his half-smoked cigarette into a trash bin in the corner and pulled a Swiss Army knife from his pocket.
Chen Shuyuan immediately backed away, pressing herself against the wall. She didn’t trust his limits at all.
Wen Liang, for his part, was perfectly composed—and that made him even more terrifying.
He walked up to her slowly, knife in hand, towering over her. “Fair trade,” he said casually. “Chen Die’s wound is about three or four centimeters long, needed three stitches. Cut one longer than hers on your leg, and we’ll call it even.”
His dark eyes locked onto hers as she stared in terror.
Now, finally, she was truly afraid.
Wen Liang might look calm, but he’d clearly lost all rationality.
He lifted the knife, flicked it open, and with the cold blade, tipped her chin up. “So?” he said quietly. “You gonna do it yourself, or do you want me to help?”
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