Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 52 - Good Night, Lingling
Chapter 52: Good Night, Lingling
Chen Die didn’t know about the phone call Wen Liang made—he hadn’t mentioned it to her.
The two of them hadn’t seen each other in the past couple of days either, as Wen Liang had gone on a business trip.
As for the incident involving Chen Shuyuan, quite a few reporters called the company trying to interview Chen Die, but they were all turned away by Fang Ruan.
On the other hand, Ye Chuqing took swift action and even held a conference, using her authority as the chairwoman of the film industry conference to publicly criticize the matter in a serious tone.
Everyone present listened intently, genuinely thinking that the newly returned-from-abroad chairwoman had gone to such lengths out of her deep disdain for plagiarism, especially to call a new meeting over one competition.
But the message of the meeting was clear. The audience was made up of industry insiders, and by publicly naming and shaming Chen Shuyuan, it was effectively blocking half her path if she really intended to pursue a career as a director.
When the conference ended, Ye Chuqing stepped off the stage from the side.
Chen Shao was waiting at the door for her.
Thanks to this whole incident, the two had gone from sworn enemies to something like friends.
“How are you holding up these days?” Ye Chuqing glanced at him with a smile. “Since Chen Shuyuan couldn’t get anything out of me, she must’ve gone to stir up trouble with you, right?”
Chen Shao waved his hand. “Nope. Probably got scolded by the old man. She’s been pretty quiet these past few days.”
That evening, Chen Die received a call from Fang Ruan saying that Huang Sheng had called to notify them that the role in <A-Xiao> had been finalized—Chen Die was confirmed to play the lead.
“You can start preparing for the role now,” Fang Ruan said. “The character bio describes A-Xiao as ‘full-figured’—you’re too skinny right now, so try to put on a little weight.” She added, “And start some strength training. You’ll look better in a cheongsam.”
Gain weight, huh…
Chen Die didn’t like being too chubby, but since Fang Ruan said so, she reluctantly replied, “Got it.”
Fang Ruan continued, “And hey, keep that temper of yours in check. If news like this keeps popping up, public opinion might not keep swinging in your favor.”
Chen Die thought to herself—she wasn’t that violent, was she?
Lying on her bed, she messaged Ye Chuqing to share the good news about landing the role—and the unfortunate news about needing to gain weight.
[Ye Chuqing: I’m having dinner with Chen Shao right now. Come join us and start gaining weight.]
[Chen Die: Chen Shao?]
Chen Die chuckled and rolled over on the bed, typing: You and Chen Shao are moving fast, huh?
Before she could hit send, another message came through from Ye Chuqing.
[Ye Chuqing: Stop. Don’t say it. I know exactly what you’re thinking.]
[Ye Chuqing: But don’t say it out loud. I’m eating, and I don’t want to throw up.]
“......”
Chen Die wisely kept her mouth shut and switched over to Wen Liang’s chat. The last message was from two hours ago, saying he was about to board his flight.
He was traveling abroad this time, hopping between several neighboring countries, so there hadn’t been much time to chat lately.
He should be landing soon.
Thinking that, Chen Die sent him a message.
No reply from Wen Liang.
Tsk tsk tsk.
Mismatched work schedules were the worst. Chen Die felt like some bored housewife with nothing to do.
Normally, when she stayed home, she often skipped dinner out of laziness. But since Fang Ruan had officially assigned her a ‘gain weight’ mission today, she dragged herself to the kitchen and cooked a bowl of noodles.
After eating, she was too lazy to go to the gym for strength training, thinking she’d just go in a couple of days. Before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep early.
When she woke up again, it was completely dark outside.
Chen Die slowly opened her eyes and glanced at the time—it was past 10 p.m.
Her phone had a missed voice call from Wen Liang.
Rubbing her eyes, Chen Die suddenly felt weak all over. She lay on her side on the pillow and called him back.
After two rings, Wen Liang picked up. “Just woke up?”
“Mn.”
Chen Die tried to sit up, but her head hurt, and her waist gave out, so she flopped back onto the bed. Her long black hair spilled out like seaweed across the sheets. She squinted and asked, “What are you doing?”
Wen Liang didn’t answer her question, instead saying, “Turn on the video.”
“Huh?” Chen Die blinked. “I’m not wearing makeup.”
“I’ve seen you in every state,” Wen Liang replied, and before she could protest, he initiated a video call.
Chen Die hesitated for a moment, then accepted it.
Wen Liang’s face appeared on the screen. He was already back at the hotel, wearing a white bathrobe with the sash loosely tied, revealing part of his chest.
He seemed to be working, with glasses perched on his nose.
Chen Die rarely saw him in glasses and burst out laughing when she did.
“You don’t feel well, do you?” Wen Liang noticed right away.
Chen Die raised a hand to her forehead. “Just a bit of a headache. Probably from just waking up. It’s only ten; I probably won’t be able to fall asleep again.”
“Do you have a fever?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Go take your temperature.”
“…” Chen Die rolled over on the bed, smoothing her hair, and mumbled, “I don’t want to move.”
Wen Liang frowned. “Chen Die.”
His expression darkened instantly, making him look stern. Even his voice dropped coldly—calling her name like it was a warning.
When Chen Die didn’t feel well, her temper turned a little spoiled and pouty, too. Her delicate brows furrowed. “Why are you being so fierce? I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I’m hanging up.”
On the screen, the girl’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and she looked drained of energy. She was lying sideways on her pillow, only half of her face visible.
Wen Liang instantly softened. He took off his glasses and tossed them onto the table. “Does your throat hurt?”
“A little.”
“Runny nose?”
Chen Die sniffled. “No.”
“Anywhere else uncomfortable?”
It was rare for Wen Liang to be this naggy, and Chen Die got annoyed. Her voice rose a bit. “No!”
Wen Liang, being yelled at like that for the first time, just laughed instead. He leaned back against the sofa, lowered his eyes, and looked a little roguish. “You’re only this fierce because you know I can’t do anything to you right now.”
Chen Die huffed without saying anything.
“Baby.”
“Hmm?” Only then did she open her eyes a little.
“Go take your temperature, okay? If you do have a fever, you should take some meds before bed. Aren’t you flying out soon to record the final episode of <Three Meals a Day>?”
Chen Die was the type who responded better to gentleness than pressure, so when Wen Liang softened his tone like that, she felt a little sheepish and stopped being stubborn. “Okay,” she murmured and slowly crawled out of bed.
“Put your slippers on,” Wen Liang reminded.
Chen Die lifted her eyes and muttered, “I know.”
She went to the living room, dug out the thermometer from the medicine box, and stuck it in her mouth.
With her mouth full and nothing to do, she just stared at Wen Liang on the screen.
After a while, she couldn't help but reach out a finger and poke at his eyebrows through the screen, then his nose, then his lips.
Wen Liang knew what she was doing but didn’t move, letting her trace his face with her fingertip. When she finally pulled her hand back, he chuckled softly. “Miss me?”
Chen Die, still biting on the thermometer, gave a muffled “mm-hmm.”
Wen Liang felt like his heart was squeezed tight—it completely melted him.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said.
After a while, Chen Die took out the thermometer and replied, “But I have a flight tomorrow afternoon for the final recording of <Three Meals a Day>. It’s far this time.”
“What’s your temp?”
She glanced at it. “No fever. Probably just a little cold.”
She didn’t end up taking medicine—Chen Die didn’t like it, said it tasted bitter. Wen Liang had always known that. Since there was no fever, he didn’t push it and just told her to get some rest.
Chen Die curled back under her covers. “But I just woke up.”
“You’ve only slept a few hours. Just close your eyes and you’ll drift off again.”
While talking, Wen Liang leaned forward. The screen went black for a second, then his face reappeared—with a cigarette in his mouth, now lit.
Chen Die frowned. “Didn’t you promise last time you’d cut back on smoking?”
“I have. A lot.”
She hid half her head under the blanket. “Yeah right. You’re still smoking in front of me.”
“Do you know why I’m smoking in front of you?”
With her cold, Chen Die’s pupils were still slightly misty. “Why?”
Wen Liang exhaled a puff of smoke. His wrist hung lazily at his side as he looked at her, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “To cool off.”
“Huh?” Chen Die didn’t get it.
Wen Liang didn’t elaborate much either—he just said calmly, “Haven’t seen you in too long.”
“......”
But Chen Die understood.
This guy was getting bolder by the day, casually throwing out innuendos now? He never used to be this slick with his words!
Nope. Conversation over.
This man had zero shame.
So she pretended not to understand, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.
She thought for sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep again, having just woken up, but surprisingly, within minutes she dozed off again—without even hanging up the video call.
Wen Liang didn’t hang up either. He watched her sleeping face on the screen, slowly finishing his cigarette, but still feeling no sense of relief.
The unfinished files sat beside him. Based on his original schedule, he’d need three more days to wrap things up—and even that was pushing it.
But after that little moment with Chen Die just now, even waiting three days felt unbearable.
Wen Liang propped up his phone to the side, opened his laptop, and booked a plane ticket. Then he put his glasses back on and stayed up working.
Three hours later, he finally sorted all the documents.
He took a sip of water and glanced back at the phone screen.
At the same time, on her end, Chen Die turned over in her sleep. Her phone, which had been propped up beside her pillow, flipped over with a soft thud, the camera now facing the ceiling.
Wen Liang reached up to remove his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose, a tired but gentle smile tugging at his lips. Looking at the screen, he whispered softly, “Goodnight, Lingling.”
That night, Chen Die had a dream.
In the dream, she was back in her senior year of high school, lying on her dorm bed, sneaking under the covers to message Wen Liang. His contact was still saved formally as “Brother Wen Liang.”
She carefully hid her feelings, not even daring to add an extra “gege” (older brother), worried that even one extra word would betray her secret.
In the dream, she was curled up under her blanket, sending him messages.
She couldn’t remember what she’d said earlier in the dream, only that in the end, Wen Liang sent her a voice message.
In the dream, she pulled her earphones from under her pillow, plugged them into her phone, adjusted the volume, and slipped them into her ears.
The dorm was silent—it was already late, and all her roommates were asleep.
Wen Liang’s voice drifted into her ears, tinged with a faint electric buzz, mingling with the sound of her own heartbeat in the quiet of the night.
“Goodnight, Lingling,” he said.
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