The online world was as lively as usual, with people crying over shipwrecks, laughing and chasing after celebrity couples, and so uniquely eager to discover the format of the next show. The internet never lacks excitent.
It’s just that the past two weeks have been particularly lively, and most of it is not good-natured.
Apart from issuing a statent, Mu Qiu hasn’t been online to refresh the news for two days, so she has no idea how things have unfolded online, and Cheng Zhirang also forbids her from knowing.
However, Zhao Yu would give her a brief update every day, telling her how the situation is, what aspects people are criticizing her for, and what impact it has on the production team.
She thinks that’s quite good, except she often gets teased for not being able to receive Zhao Yu’s ssages on ti, as if she’s indulging in night revelries.
Speaking of that, she really wants to clarify; she’s not out partying every night, at least... not on Mondays.
Okay, she’s not very confident in that.
Mu Qiu lay in bed, sighed quietly, withdrew her hand from Cheng Zhirang’s chest, closed her tired eyes, and carefully climbed out of bed.
There was a big eting with the bosses at two in the afternoon, but the editor inford her yesterday that they’d be having lunch together at twelve, so she could go early.
The eting was fine, but gathering with unfamiliar people was not necessary; she didn’t like going.
But whether she goes or not, it’s always good to get up early and get ready.
To avoid disturbing the person in bed, she left the bedroom and went to the adjacent washroom.
She valued this eting a lot; she had chosen her outfit early yesterday: a dark green A-line skirt, a white printed T-shirt, and white sneakers.
Not too casual, not particularly formal, suitable for small gas where she could run and jump, and if Cheng Zhirang’s fans rushed over, she could still run away.
Adding so wavy curls and putting on delicate makeup, even if she got caught by paparazzi, they wouldn’t say she looked atrocious and unworthy of Cheng Zhirang’s stunning looks.
Everything was prepared perfectly, and the phone on the dressing table buzzed with a ssage.
It was a ssage from Qing Rong.
[Qing Rong: Did they ask you to join the lunch? If you don’t want to go, just skip it, it’s very boring.]
[I was just going to ask about this, is it okay if I don’t go?]
[Qing Rong: Every year, so bigwigs avoid these; last year, soone even skipped the whole eting.]
[Qing Rong: They just discuss film adaptation, family and kids, stats and royalties, weather and food, things you don’t like, right?]
[Yeah, I don’t like that.]
[Then I won’t go?]
[Qing Rong: Don’t go]
[Qing Rong: But you could co early to chat with so people from the company]
[Sure, I’ll rely on you, boss]
[Qing Rong: Your na is on the official notice, so so entertainnt fans might notice you]
[Qing Rong: Just get off at the nearby transport hub, there’s an employee passage leading to the company nearby, I’ll guide you]
[How do you know so much? Is it because you avoid being chased by readers this way?]
[Qing Rong: I went to the wrong place the first ti and accidentally found it]
[Qing Rong: But other people might recognize you; can they call you by na directly?]
[So do I need a secret code for the passage? "Tiezhu, is that you, Tiezhu?"]
[Qing Rong: ...Forget it, that attracts more attention]
[People might think we’re crazy, hahahaha]
[Qing Rong: You are, they don’t know ]
[Qing Rong: Wear a mask and tell a distinctive color of your outfit]
[Dark green.]
[That long-legged monkey’s color?]
[Yes]
She had just sent the "yes," intending to say more when Cheng Zhirang suddenly knocked and entered the doorway.
"What are you doing here?"
Mu Qiu put down her phone, unconsciously smiled, stood up, and went to hug him.
"I didn’t want to disturb your rest."
Cheng Zhirang opened his arms to hold her, lowered his head to plant a light kiss on her hair, like following a couple’s etiquette, full of ritual.
"You won’t. Up so early? Isn’t it at two in the afternoon?"
"Getting ready early, plus I can chat with the editor."
His fingers ran through her long hair, making it sway with a pretty arc in the light, carrying a special fresh scent.
"You’ve curled your hair."
"Yes," she stepped back a bit, stood for him to see, "this way, I’ll look a bit more mature. Tying up my hair feels too youthful. Or should I change my outfit?"
With his taste, he could easily solve such matching dilemmas. After all, he’s attended countless fashion events in the entertainnt industry.
Cheng Zhirang gave her a serious look and suggested, "A longer skirt, one that covers the knees."
"..." She raised an eyebrow, "Is that advice or your personal preference?"
"Advice and a bit of personal preference."
He was straightforward without changing his expression, even looked at her gently, making it hard for Mu Qiu to resist.
She led him to the wardrobe, showing the row of hanging clothes.
"Help choose one?"
"May I?"
"If I say yes, then yes."
Cheng Zhirang’s distinct fingers slid over each piece, viewing their overall look, softly asked, "It’s just a et and greet with a few others, right? Will any company people interview?"
"Yes, individual interviews. It’s like going out for activities with you but less formal. How about this one?"
His fingers touched a khaki ruffle pencil skirt.
Cheng Zhirang paused for a mont, "A pencil skirt fits a slightly more formal occasion, like an evening event or award show."
"Then how about this one?"
A red A-line skirt printed with little food patterns.
"It’s okay, fits better with high heels. How about this one?"
He pulled out a pink biker-style dress, uniquely cut with decorative zippers, sleeveless with two wide straps.
It looked kind of cool.
"I bought this with a friend in Sui City; she said it’d look great on . Haven’t had the chance to wear it since I usually stay at ho."
Mu Qiu didn’t take the dress from him, instead, she directly took off the dark green A-line skirt in front of Cheng Zhirang.
Cheng Zhirang imdiately turned away, his Adam’s apple moving slightly.
Mu Qiu laughed teasingly.
"Brother Cheng, you don’t have to look away, my clothes are long."
Cheng Zhirang closed his eyes, then turned to look at her again.
The printed t-shirt was long, but exposed a big part of her thighs.
The key point was she pretended to take off her t-shirt, the fabric creeping up, revealing a white waistband, her waistline erging.
"You’re really bold," he said in a low voice.
He couldn’t help but want to advise her to avoid changing clothes in front of n, any n.
Mu Qiu kicked off her slippers, lifted her foot to lightly kick him, the intensity only describable as flirtatious.
"I know I’m bold, but it’s just with you. Also, the dress you picked... I need a second person to help zip it up."
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