Chapter Fifty-One: Jiang Lan's Suspicion

When the wind is still, it feels as though the whole world has fallen silent. Beneath the sunlight, there’s a sense that everything is just as it should be. When the wind picks up, leaves rustle and the surface of the water periodically sends waves crashing against the shore, like a lullaby.

Tang Zhichu glanced sideways. Jiang Lan must have drifted off to sleep; her delicate, fair cheeks were peaceful and her eyes had long since closed. Tang Zhichu stretched lazily and relaxed as well. If every date were like this, he wouldn’t mind having a few more. Not far away, the cameraman who was following them looked bewildered.

He asked the director beside him, “What are they doing?”

The director replied, “Aren’t they fishing?”

The cameraman said, “Is this fishing?”

The director shrugged, “Who cares? I think it’s beautiful. Who can be this relaxed, unless they’re in front of someone they like and under the eye of the camera?”

The cameraman glanced at his footage—was it really like that? Why did it feel as though the two were simply slacking off?

The director laughed, “You’re still young. Otherwise, why are you stuck carrying a camera? With a little guidance and some visual effects, this scene could be so warm, so romantic.”

The cameraman was half convinced, but what exactly should he shoot? Then he noticed a fellow cameraman sitting down cross-legged, and it dawned on him: this was allowed.

Delighted, the other camera operators sat down where they were. Those with tripods set up their gear. Slacking off? It was a dream come true.

Tang Zhichu had no idea how long he’d slept. It couldn’t have been just a few minutes, since the shadow of the parasol had shifted considerably. He sat up, rubbed his arm, and gently draped the blanket over Jiang Lan. Stepping out from under the parasol, he stood in the sunlight, feeling its warmth wash over him—a rare comfort. He sat down on the stone steps.

Not far away, the cameraman asked the director again, “He must be troubled, right?”

The director looked at him, “Troubled?”

The cameraman said, “He’s been on three dates in two days, all with different people. Isn’t that stressful?”

The director shook his head, “If three outstanding and beautiful women liked you, would you be troubled?”

The cameraman replied with a sigh, “I’d be envious. In fact, I’m envious right now, but my application to join the show as a guest was rejected.”

The director chuckled, “What are you thinking? Are you as handsome as Tang Zhichu? Even if he’s troubled, it’s the happiest kind of trouble.”

The cameraman sighed again. The director stopped responding and spoke into his walkie-talkie: “Camera Three, move to the target’s front left and use all your skills to capture Jiang Lan’s beauty. Camera One, move to the target’s front right, focus on Tang Zhichu’s expression changes. Camera Four, set up behind for a wide angle, slow pullback. Get the drone going as well…”

The director orchestrated the scene like a painter, where the richer the colors, the simpler the content. For him, this was the easiest kind of work, so he could afford to chat with the cameraman.

Jiang Lan awoke, and it was only because she was awake that the director began repositioning the cameras. Jiang Lan looked a bit dazed, a few strands of hair still pressed against her face. She walked over to Tang Zhichu and sat down beside him.

After a long moment, Jiang Lan finally spoke, “That was such a restful sleep.”

Tang Zhichu glanced at her, then looked away. From this angle, Jiang Lan’s gentle, languid aura made him uneasy to look at her directly. The casting for this show was truly exceptional—three female guests, each not only beautiful but possessing distinctly unique qualities.

Seeing Tang Zhichu ignore her, Jiang Lan asked, “How long did I sleep?”

Tang Zhichu shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Instinctively, Jiang Lan reached for the watch on her wrist, but Tang Zhichu interrupted her. “With mountains and water all around, why bother checking the time?”

Jiang Lan paused, but couldn’t resist and checked anyway. She murmured, “Two hours. I actually slept for two hours. That’s already very lucky; I shouldn’t expect too much.”

Tang Zhichu laughed, “Then you should get back to work.”

Jiang Lan shot him a glare—not that she’d really go back to work, but she did open her work chat on her phone. After replying to a few messages, she stretched.

She was so relaxed because she had no expectations of Tang Zhichu. In her mind, he’d already had two dates yesterday; today, it was better for everyone to just unwind together. Tang Zhichu had sensed this, which was why he’d reminded her not to check the time.

Jiang Lan casually swept her long hair back and glanced toward the guesthouse. “Wait for me—I’ll get us something to drink.”

Tang Zhichu nodded, watching her dash off enthusiastically. Just a simple break, yet she seemed so energized; it was clear how busy she usually was.

Tang Zhichu browsed his phone. His profile was already online. The seventh season of “Love at First Sight” had begun its official promotion. But there was still no official word on Chen Siyang; evidently, they wanted to focus the publicity right before the launch.

There were plenty of rumors online. Some claimed Chen Siyang was participating, while most speculated about other celebrities. Most people didn’t believe Chen Siyang was joining. She had just signed with Sky Union, and she’d previously become popular solely because of her looks. Would someone like that really go on a dating show?

On social media, someone even said that if Chen Siyang joined a dating show, he’d eat dirt—his post had tens of thousands of likes. There was no promotion about her, but information about the other cast members was already out, along with some footage from the villa.

Compared to the glamorous entrances of the others, Tang Zhichu’s seemed oddly out of place: nearly tripping as he got out of the car, staring blankly at the show’s rules at the entrance. He vaguely recalled being bewildered at the time—he’d woken up in the car, and finding the villa’s front door was already a stroke of luck.

A fragrant breeze swept by as Jiang Lan returned, holding two glasses of lemonade. “Here.”

Tang Zhichu took one.

Jiang Lan noticed he was watching the show’s promo video and laughed, “You’re so different from your image. When I first saw you, you seemed like someone with social anxiety.”

Tang Zhichu put his phone away and leaned back, supporting himself on the stone steps with his arms. “Is it possible I really am socially anxious?”

Jiang Lan looked at him, a bit serious, “Really?”

“Not really.”

Jiang Lan frowned slightly. She had actually wondered—who else would act like that on their first day of a dating show? Not eating, going straight upstairs to rest? But at the time, she hadn’t paid much attention to Tang Zhichu, and later, his other side overshadowed her doubts.

“By the way, didn’t you visit a relative in the hospital last time? Who was ill?”

A sudden thought struck Jiang Lan—could he actually have social anxiety? Last time she dropped him off to see a patient at the hospital, he’d gone empty-handed. So was he actually seeing a doctor himself?

She’d wondered about it then; visiting a sick relative, given his later behavior and manners, surely he’d have brought something along, right? At least a small gift?