Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 60 - Do You Want a Ring?
Chapter 60: Do You Want a Ring?
There wasn’t much filming on the first day of joining the set. After the script meeting, the main focus was costume fitting and trying on outfits.
It was a Republican-era drama, and Chen Die played the role of a qipao beauty by the riverside in the south of the Yangtze River—willows swaying, graceful and serene. The story told of love amidst patriotic duty and national crisis.
The stage on both sides of the river featured classical architecture—eaves and lattice windows, intricately carved beams and painted rafters, pleasure boats gliding on the water, the sound of oars mingling with the glow of lanterns.
Chen Die’s hair was styled in elegant finger waves, pinned behind her ears for a clean and tidy look. With retro red lips and a patterned qipao hugging her figure, she exuded elegance and charm. Her beauty was striking yet carried a dignified aura.
Once she appeared fully styled, the crew couldn’t stop praising Director Huang Sheng for his excellent casting choice. The moment Chen Die stepped in, the ambiance of the era seemed to come alive through her every glance and movement.
Casting was crucial in this kind of Republican-era drama.
If the actor wasn’t the right fit, no matter how well the set and costumes were prepared, the audience simply wouldn’t be able to immerse themselves in that historical atmosphere.
Xue Mu played a young military officer—born into wealth, handsome and fair-skinned, smooth and charming, yet with a fatal flaw of cowardice.
Even dressed in uniform, he still looked like a scholarly young man. But that actually suited the role perfectly.
“Cut!” Director Huang Sheng called from behind the monitor. “Very good. Take a break.”
After half a month, filming was progressing smoothly—several scenes ahead of schedule.
Director Huang Sheng and Director Feng Zhi had very different directing styles.
When Chen Die was filming <Hairpin Flowers> with Director Feng, each scene had high standards, but the breaks were well scheduled. They’d stagger scenes between actors so everyone had time to rest.
But Huang Sheng was a workaholic. Though he had a strong command of cinematography, the workload each day was intense.
Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been fine—Chen Die could catch up on sleep during breaks. But this time, she had brought someone with her to the set.
She returned to the hotel looking exhausted every night, sometimes past midnight. One time, they even filmed overnight.
There was no doubt that Wen Liang, with his difficult temperament, was not happy about it.
During the lunch break, Ye Chuqing came by to visit.
She arrived with a flourish, directing two assistants: “Put the food over there. Thanks!”
She had brought stacks of boxed lunches from a well-reviewed bento shop downtown.
Ye Chuqing cheerfully greeted everyone, “Help yourselves, thank you all for your hard work!”
Everyone knew her—Director Huang Sheng’s daughter, now working in the same industry, and a close friend of Chen Die’s.
After greeting the crew, Ye Chuqing grabbed a lunchbox and went to find Chen Die.
Chen Die accepted it with a thank you. “Have you eaten?”
“I have.” Ye Chuqing looked her up and down. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, dropped about two pounds. I originally thought I’d need to gain weight for the qipao look, but I ended up losing even more.” Chen Die opened the lunchbox and took a bite.
Ye Chuqing waved it off with a carefree smile. “Just use some padding in the chest.”
“......”
Chen Die rolled her eyes and, while eating, sent a message to Wen Liang:
[Chen Die: What are you up to, boyfriend?]
Wen Liang sent back a photo of his desk—clearly indicating he was working.
[Chen Die: Haven’t had lunch yet?]
[Wen Liang: Already ate.]
[Chen Die: I’ll be done early tonight.]
She hesitated, then sent a cute cat emoji sticker.
[Wen Liang: Okay.]
“......”
Cold as ever.
She didn’t reply again and kept chatting with Ye Chuqing. Then her phone buzzed.
[Wen Liang: Want to do it?]
“......”
Later that evening, not long after dark, Chen Die returned to the hotel.
Wen Liang was already there, sitting on the living room couch like an old man, with documents and a laptop in front of him, a glass of red wine at his side.
“You’re back.”
“Mm.”
“Why so early today?”
It wasn’t exactly early—it was already 9 PM. But compared to the usual post-midnight returns, it was relatively early. He had probably been waiting a while.
Chen Die felt a little sheepish. She sat down beside him. “Things were really intense earlier. Director Huang gave us a few extra hours off today to adjust.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Probably going to be another late night,” Chen Die said as she gently stroked the back of his hand to soothe him. “But on the bright side, it means we’ll finish filming sooner. We’re actually ahead of schedule right now.”
Wen Liang let out a soft scoff. “So you’re just skipping your birthday?”
“Huh?”
“Tomorrow’s your birthday.”
“…Oh.”
Chen Die had completely forgotten.
She’d never cared much about birthdays. She used to think her birth probably hadn’t brought joy to anyone, so she wasn’t keen on celebrating.
After moving in with Wen Liang at the villa in the western suburbs, he had once seen her birthdate on her ID card. Since then, he had prepared a birthday gift for her every year—expensive clothes or bags he had someone else pick out.
Wen Liang leaned in, kissing her ear slowly, murmuring beside her: “What do you want for your birthday?”
Chen Die gave him a little shove. “Who just straight-up asks someone like that?”
He chuckled lowly, and stopped paying attention to the documents on the table. He turned his whole body toward her, pulled down her collar, and kissed her neck.
Wen Liang seemed to particularly enjoy kissing her there—he often buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing and inhaling deeply like he had some kind of obsession.
“Don’t leave a mark,” Chen Die warned.
He murmured a vague “Mm.”
After a pause, Chen Die said, “Just don’t get me one of those same gifts again.”
“You don’t like them?” He chuckled into her neck.
Chen Die lifted her eyes. “There’s no sincerity. You might as well bake me a cake.”
Whether Wen Liang actually heard her or not was unclear—his breath was growing heavier, his hand on her shoulder tightening, his fingertips rubbing in slow circles with increasing pressure. Her collarbone was turning red, and things were clearly taking a turn into 18+ territory.
Right then, the doorbell rang.
Chen Die froze. Before she could say anything, someone called from outside: “Sister Die, open up! We’re here!”
It was the voice of a female actress from the cast who was pretty close to Chen Die, along with a chorus of others.
Wen Liang frowned, clearly annoyed. “Who is it?”
“Sounds like some of the cast. Maybe they need me for something.” Chen Die patted his shoulder. “Go wait in the bedroom for a bit, I’ll come back after I talk to them.”
Wen Liang’s face was full of brooding frustration. He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his crotch, exhaling slowly before finally getting up and heading into the bedroom.
Chen Die’s hand lingered awkwardly in the air for a moment, stiff.
…How does he stay so damn calm doing stuff like that?
Her mind was still buzzing with the sensation, her face flushed even hotter. The knocking resumed. “Chen Die! Hurry up and open the door! This stuff is heavy!”
“Coming!”
Chen Die quickly responded, grabbing Wen Liang’s laptop and documents from the table—like a good little assistant—and brought them into the bedroom for him.
Before she closed the door, Wen Liang reminded her, “Hurry.”
“I know, I know.” Chen Die even flashed him a heart gesture before shutting the bedroom door.
Wen Liang smirked, clearly unimpressed by the gesture.
Chen Die glanced around the living room, double-checking to make sure there was no trace of a man’s presence, then hurried to open the door. “What—”
She paused mid-sentence. Standing in front of her were six or seven people—all key cast and crew from <A-Xiao>—carrying multiple shopping bags with the logo of the fresh food store downstairs.
Zeng Liya lifted a bag and went, “Ta-da!”
“…What’s going on?”
Before Chen Die could process, the group surged into her room. “I texted you earlier! Didn’t you see?” someone said as they walked in.
“This is our first real break from Director Huang in a while, and your room’s the biggest—so we figured we’d throw a hot pot party here!”
No one said it outright, but everyone more or less believed the rumor that Chen Die was the sister of the Chairman of Yiming Entertainment, backed by the entire Chen Group. So it didn’t seem strange to them that she was living alone in a luxury suite.
Chen Die finally noticed that besides the snacks, they had also brought a portable induction cooker, lamb and beef slices for hot pot, assorted meatballs, and vegetables.
A real hot pot party.
Chen Die picked up her phone and, sure enough, there was a message from Zeng Liya that she hadn’t seen.
So…
Chen Die turned to look toward the bedroom.
She was now truly someone who kept a hidden lover in a ‘golden house.’
Only… her ‘lover’ was not the obedient type—and might even storm out on his own.
“Hey, were you drinking red wine by yourself just now, Sister Die?” Xue Mu’s voice snapped Chen Die out of her thoughts.
The glass Wen Liang had used was still sitting there.
“Ah… yeah, I didn’t see the message,” Chen Die replied casually.
The group worked together quickly to set up the induction cooker. Soon, it was bubbling with steam as slices of lamb and meatballs were tossed into the pot.
“Sister Chen Die,” Xue Mu said, fishing out a slice of lamb, “Want some?”
“You guys eat first, I’m just going to the bedroom for a sec.”
Chen Die quietly slipped back into the bedroom. As soon as she entered, she saw Wen Liang with a sullen face. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, pinning her against the door.
Bang!
The group in the living room looked up at the noise. “Did something just bang?”
“Yeah, maybe something fell?”
Zeng Liya called out toward the bedroom, “Little Sister Die! Everything okay in there?!”
“I’m fine!” Chen Die quickly replied.
Wen Liang stood close in front of her, towering over her, eyes slightly narrowed. “I tell you to hurry, and instead you bring people in for a party?”
“They barged in. I couldn’t just throw them out…”
Chen Die wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, softening her tone like she was coaxing a child. “Just be good and stay in here for a bit, or take a nap, okay?”
Wen Liang saw right through her little tricks. “You really think I’m that easy to pacify?”
Chen Die kissed him again on the lips, voice syrupy sweet. “Then how should I coax you?”
The words had barely left her mouth when Wen Liang’s kiss came down—unlike the soft pecks she’d given, his was deep and consuming, his tongue wrapping around hers.
Chen Die could barely breathe, panting slightly, her legs weakening beneath her. She had to cling tightly to his shirt.
Wen Liang, on the other hand, was totally composed. One arm around her waist, the other slipping under her clothes. Chen Die instinctively squirmed away, letting out a breathy, “...I have to go back out.”
“Mhm.” His voice was hoarse, but his hands didn’t stop.
Chen Die didn’t dare look down, but even in her peripheral vision, she could see the shape of his hand moving under her clothes.
He bent his head again.
Chen Die’s back was pressed tightly to the door. She could still hear the chatter and laughter from the living room, and even faintly smell the scent of hotpot wafting in.
Separated by just a wall, she and Wen Liang were kissing.
Their lips and teeth made soft, intimate sounds.
Who knew how long had passed before Wen Liang finally let her go. Her eyes were misty red from his almost forceful kiss.
Wen Liang, satisfied after teasing her, looked at her disheveled state with a calmer heart. He kissed her eyelids gently and said, “If this party’s not over by eleven, I’m coming out.”
When Chen Die returned to the living room, the pot was already full.
Meatballs, tofu, and dumplings floated on the surface.
They had even prepared a bowl for her. Chen Die had lost about two pounds recently, so she wasn’t under pressure to diet. She didn’t have to hold back on eating.
But the whole time she was eating, her mind was focused on one thing: how to naturally wrap up this hotpot party before eleven o'clock without raising suspicion.
The closer it got to the hour, the more nervous she became.
Just imagining it was horrifying: a group of people laughing and enjoying hotpot, when suddenly a man—no, not just any man, but the one rumored online to be Chen Die’s scandalous ex—comes strolling out of her bedroom.
Luckily, everyone had been exhausted from filming over the past two weeks. After finishing the food, they didn’t stay for any games or drinks. They helped tidy up the living room and left one by one.
Just before eleven.
……
The result of that surprise hotpot party was that the next morning, when Chen Die woke up, she genuinely thought her legs had stopped working.
How could they be this sore?!
And the culprit was lying right beside her, sleeping peacefully like a saint.
Because of the long time needed for makeup and hair, Chen Die always left for the set early. Most days, Wen Liang was still asleep when she got up.
But today, with her legs aching thanks to him, Chen Die wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.
She sat on the bed wrapped in the blanket, quietly watching him for a moment, then stretched out a finger and poked a fake dimple into the corner of his mouth.
Wen Liang’s features were striking—not overly delicate, but sharply defined. He definitely wasn’t the kind of guy who came with naturally cute accessories like dimples.
So when Chen Die forced one onto his face, it just looked weird. Like a mismatched filter.
She stared at her handiwork for a moment… then couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
Wen Liang had actually been awake since the moment she sat up. He just hadn’t opened his eyes, letting her poke his face however she wanted. But eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore.
He clicked his tongue, then—still with his eyes closed—reached an arm around her waist and pulled her back under the covers. He kissed the top of her head and asked in a raspy voice, “What are you doing?”
“I need to get up and head to set.”
He held her tight and didn’t let go, frowning slightly. “Then why were you poking me?”
Chen Die puffed up her cheeks. “So I’m not even allowed to poke you now?”
Wen Liang chuckled, still keeping his eyes closed, laughing lazily. Then he suddenly said, “Happy birthday, Lingling.”
Chen Die froze.
She had no real sense of her birthday. It was only because Wen Liang mentioned it yesterday that she remembered, and the moment she woke up, she’d forgotten it was today.
“I even dreamed I was buying you a gift.”
Chen Die no longer felt like getting up. She lay back down, resting her head on his arm. “What did you dream you bought me?”
“A ring,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat.
His voice was low and husky, tinged with a nasal warmth, seductive. “Do you want it?”
“You’re unbelievable. It’s my birthday, and you’re giving me a gift just to end up winning me over too?” Chen Die mumbled. “You sure know how to get your way.”
Wen Liang chuckled hoarsely, his chest vibrating.
Chen Die wasn’t in a rush to get married—it wasn’t a problem. After all, she’d just wrapped a series, and unexpectedly gained a huge following. If news of her sudden marriage broke, it might have a negative impact.
But Wen Liang just wanted to lock her down first and deal with the rest later.
Still smiling casually, he said, “Then I’ll just get you a random one for now—you can wear it for fun. I’ll buy you a real one later.”
He made it sound like rings were just toys...
Seeing she hadn’t responded, Wen Liang finally opened his eyes a little. “Do you want one?”
Chen Die’s face felt hot.
Even though the setting wasn’t exactly right—he hadn’t washed his face or brushed his teeth—it still felt a little like a proposal.
A very Wen Liang-style proposal.
She could picture it clearly:
He pulls a ring from his pocket. No “Will you marry me,” no kneeling. Just lifts his chin, all cool and cocky, stretches his hand out. “You want it?”
...But she still kind of wanted it.
A diamond ring.
They were pretty...
She’d never had one before.
Having one as jewelry wasn’t too much to ask, right?
“...Yes,” Chen Die said softly, then added—half embarrassed, half pretending to be picky—“But it has to be a pretty one. None of those tacky styles. Just something simple and elegant.”
Wen Liang smiled and agreed. “Okay.”
After Chen Die headed off to set, Wen Liang slept a little longer before getting up. He went to the office first to finish off some leftover work from the day before, then made his way to a cake shop.
He’d made an appointment yesterday—while Chen Die was off enjoying her spontaneous hotpot party—to personally make her a birthday cake.
The pastry chef was already waiting for him. The cake base was ready on a rack, with freshly whipped cream nearby.
A man like him walking into a cake shop full of sweet, milky smells looked completely out of place.
The chef led him to a station, introducing the process. In the corner, two young female apprentices watched, whispering excitedly to each other, arms linked.
“He’s so handsome! What an adorable contrast! First time seeing a man in a suit come here to make a cake himself. Sure, we’ve had guy students, but…”
“His girlfriend is so lucky! He’s so good-looking and so thoughtful!”
“And I swear, he kind of looks like that chairman who went viral recently—the one named Wen Liang? The super handsome guy who was chasing Chen Die.”
“I thought the same thing! Especially his profile—it’s too perfect. Since when are random hot guys on the street this high-quality?”
“Too bad that high-quality guy is crushing hard on a celebrity. And this one’s already making cakes for his girlfriend… Meanwhile, we’ve got nothing.”
……
Wen Liang didn’t think making Chen Die a birthday cake was anything especially sweet or rare. It was just that she’d mentioned it yesterday, so he came to do it for her.
The thing was, Wen Liang wasn’t naturally gifted at this sort of thing. His cream piping looked pretty awful, and he ruined several cake bases before he finally managed to cobble together a half-decent strawberry tart.
“Sprinkle on some powdered sugar,” the chef said, handing him a bag.
Wen Liang looked down, seeming to daze for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said, “No sugar.”
“Sugar dusting makes it look nicer.” But the chef didn’t insist and instead brought out a box of colorful chocolate pieces. “Then how about using some of these?”
Wen Liang sprinkled a few chocolate pieces on top.
The cake was boxed up with a delicate ribbon tied around it.
He carried it to the car, placed it in the passenger seat, secured it—and on the way back, stopped in front of a Cartier store to pick out a ring for Chen Die.
“Are you looking for an engagement ring or a wedding ring?” the store clerk asked.
Wen Liang replied, “A birthday gift.”
“......”
The birthday gift of a rich person — sorry for intruding.
Because of what Wen Liang had murmured to her half-asleep that morning, Chen Die kept thinking about it all day during the filming breaks.
Just the night before, she’d told him not to get her those expensive, over-the-top gifts again — said they lacked sincerity.
And yet that morning, she went and asked him for a ring.
What kind of girl asks a guy for a ring...?
It was all Wen Liang’s fault. If he hadn’t set her up by saying “Do you want it?”, she would’ve never asked for a ring.
And she could already imagine it — knowing Wen Liang, the ring was bound to be huge, oozing nouveau riche energy. No telling if it would even look good...
By noon, it was time for a break.
She’d eaten too much hotpot the night before, so she still wasn’t feeling hungry. She picked at her boxed lunch a bit and decided to go out for a walk.
The breeze outside was warm and gentle.
Chen Die carried her thermos cup — the one she’d soaked goji berries in yesterday and hadn’t washed yet. She walked over to the outdoor sink to clean it. Just then, her phone buzzed.
She set the cup aside and pulled out her phone. It was a message from Chen Shao.
[Chen Shao: Happy birthday, sis.]
Today was also Chen Shuyuan’s birthday. Chen Shao must’ve found out it was Chen Die’s birthday while celebrating hers.
Chen Die smiled and was just about to reply — when someone suddenly covered her mouth and nose from behind.
At first, she thought it was someone from the crew playing a prank and didn’t take it seriously — until she caught a strange scent. A second later, her consciousness slipped away. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed.
Meanwhile, Wen Liang had been picking out a ring for quite some time before finally settling on one.
A classic four-prong setting — simple, elegant, with an exquisitely cut diamond.
He swiped his card, had the ring taken out, and pinched it between his fingers. Under the store lighting, it shimmered brilliantly.
He stared at it for a moment, then let out a faint, knowing smile.
He could already picture Chen Die’s proud and bashful expression when she received the ring.
At that moment, his phone rang — it was a call from Chen Die.
Wen Liang smiled as he answered. “Hello?”
But the voice on the other end was completely unfamiliar — a man’s voice, rough and uncultured, speaking a heavily accented Mandarin that was grating on the ears. You could instantly tell it was someone crude, grinning as he said: “Hello, Mr. Wen?”
Wen Liang instantly straightened up, and the smile disappeared from his face, turning cold.
----------
If you like my translation, please support me by buying me a coffee:
0 comments: