novelraw Chapter 77
Chapter 77
Chapter 77
"Ask... Don't ask... Ask... Don't ask..."
Creak.
"I'm home."
The front door of the villa swung open. Jiang Xiong, refined and bespectacled, draped his suit jacket over one arm while he traded his shoes for slippers in the entryway.
Before he could glance toward Bai Yi's room on the ground floor, the scene in the living room made him pause in surprise.
His step-daughter sat on the couch, a white hydrating mask covering her face, her bangs pinned back with a hairband. Eyes rimmed red, she was plucking petals from a plastic prop flower one by one.
The table was already littered with several stripped stems and a snowfall of petals—clearly the branch in her hand was not the first casualty.
She tore off another petal and whispered, trembling, "Ask."
Another petal, another tremor of her lips, "Don't ask."
That was the last petal. "Don't ask" had won.
"Argh! But if I don't ask, how am I supposed to sleep tonight!"
Bai Yi groaned and flung the bare stem onto the table, then grabbed a fresh flower like a child sulking.
Jiang Xiong's curiosity drew him closer.
"Yiyi, what are you doing?"
"Ah? Uncle Jiang, you're back."
Bai Yi froze. Beneath the mask her expression was unreadable, but her parted lips showed her surprise.
"Where's Mom?"
"Still doing her skincare routine. Probably another hour or two—I couldn't wait, so I came home first."
"Oh... okay."
Jiang Xiong hung up his jacket and smoothed his sleeves.
"You're wearing a mask and still this worked up. Something happen? Work went well—your agent Xiao Ji said the release offer looks great—so is it school?"
Bai Yi pinched the fake flower, reluctant to hurt another.
She pouted, thought for a moment, then told him how she had invited Yan Huan today and still hadn't received a reply.
The moment the name "Fan A" came up, Jiang Xiong, who had been pressing a shirt, grew interested.
He looked back with a grin.
"Ah, matters of the heart, then."
"It's nothing to do with romance!"
The skin beneath the mask warmed, but Bai Yi insisted,
"It's just... normal social stuff, friends, you know."
"Romance always starts as friendship. And thanks to your mom, you and Yan Huan are fated to keep crossing paths."
"I told you, it's not romance."
Jiang Xiong didn't argue; he simply rubbed his chin.
"Mm, your meaning is clear enough—inviting him to star as the male lead in your new MV."
Before he could finish, Bai Yi burst out,
"Right!? Uncle Jiang, you see it too! I was so obvious—asking him to be in the MV, and the song itself was literally born because of him."
She grew more animated, oblivious to the knowing glint in Jiang Xiong's eyes.
"And yesterday I gave him the same Bluetooth earphones I wear. I even angled my ear toward him so he'd notice—still zero reaction."
Jiang Xiong pushed up his glasses, sweating.
"That's a bit much. Who stares at someone's earbuds?"
"Normal people... would, right?"
"They really wouldn't."
Bai Yi puffed her cheeks and kneaded the couch cushion.
"Even if that's true, the least he could do is reply to my message."
"My, you're invested."
She flushed, shot Jiang Xiong a glare, and huffed softly.
Jiang Xiong finished ironing, then busied himself filling the kettle. Once the switch clicked, he settled on the opposite sofa.
"Want some advice—about love?"
"I already said it's not love!"
She glared again, but after a moment muttered, "Fine... let's hear it."
Jiang Xiong looked unsurprised.
"From what I hear, Yan Huan is more popular at your school than you are. Student-council president of Linmen's top academy—that's no small feat."
Bai Yi nodded, cheeks still pink.
"Exactly."
Bai Yi was in Class 1-B; an otaku named Hashimoto, a close friend of Yan Huan, sat in the same room. Today she'd had her best friend pry for information, patching the gaps in her social knowledge faster than she could fix her academic grades.
She opened an app called Plane on her phone and passed it to Jiang Xiong.
"Look—screenshot my friend sent."
He glanced at a lively group chat among Yuanyue students:
"Real or fake? After club wars and midterms we have the training camp, and these girls are already scouting where Class A is staying?"
Bai Yi stared at the floor, sullen.
"Yeah."
Then her face brightened like sunshine, nose proudly in the air.
"But none of them know—Yan Huan is my fan! He adores my songs!"
Bai Yi basked in compliments; Yan Huan's praise worked like magic.
Jiang Xiong chuckled and handed the phone back.
"That's my point, Yiyi. A guy that outstanding will have girls circling like hawks. Your school is overwhelmingly female, right?
"For you, that means countless potential rivals. For him, endless temptation. And your school has plenty of rich, powerful Young Ladies."
Bai Yi's romantic heart took a cold shower; she bit her lip.
"I'm not questioning Yan Huan's character—still, young boys rarely resist temptation. You also told me his boss seems interested."
"So, Yiyi, you must test his integrity to be sure he won't deceive your feelings or your body. And you need the skill to make him look away from every other girl and look only at you.
"Romantic love, mind you—not fandom."
Bai Yi recalled the look Tong Yingying had given both her and Yan Huan. The woman had recognized the brand and price of Bai Yi's sunglasses at a glance—clearly not short of money. But she was so much older than Yan Huan...
Could Uncle Jiang be right? Was the "part-time job" actually a sugar-mommy arrangement?
A chill ran through her; an alarming scene flashed across her mind:
Yan Huan, looking troubled, stands before Tong Yingying, who lounges with crossed legs and a teasing smile.
"Um... Tong sis, something came up at home, and I need money urgently. Could I get an advance on my wages?"
"Oh? An advance? Sure."
As Yan Huan's eyes light up with hope, a steel-wool scrubber sails through the air and fills his entire vision.
"Then tonight, don't go home."
Bai Yi's jaw dropped; even her mask slid an inch.
At least the gorgeous vice-president of the student council, Sakuramiya, didn't seem interested in Yan Huan—and she was kind to Bai Yi, easy to talk to.
Whatever the case, Uncle Jiang's advice made sense. She needed to know more.
"You're right, Uncle Jiang. I'll think it over carefully."
Ding~
At that moment her phone buzzed in her lap—then kept buzzing in rapid succession.
She snatched it up, lit the screen, and lost all composure.
"It's Yan Huan!"
Jiang Xiong paused mid-pour, kettle in hand, and turned with a smile.
"He replied?"
"Y-yeah."
Bai Yi fumbled to unlock her phone and opened the chat log on Plane.
A string of messages rolled in. The moment she read them, the color that had drained from her face—thanks to Jiang Xiong—rushed back in a dizzying wave. Her cheeks burned; her eyes glazed over like spirals of mosquito-repellent smoke.
"R-right. He's been crazy busy—classes, part-time jobs, all the daily grind of running the student council. And now he's organizing the mega Club Wars festival on top of coaching a study group. No wonder he didn't text back."
There—she'd said it herself.
Watching her, Jiang Xiong adjusted his glasses and sighed.
"I've just explained all that. So—what's his answer about starring in your MV?"
Bai Yi stared at the screen, thumbs poised, then pursed her lips, unsure what to type. Instead, she saved the cat-sticker he'd sent with his "Sorry."
"He agreed to appear—no face on camera—and he won't take payment."
"That generous?"
"Well, not money, anyway. In return for helping with the MV, he wants me to sing at both the opening and closing ceremonies of Club Wars."
Jiang Xiong's brows arched. He blew across his steaming cup and chuckled.
"Not a bad trade. As expected from the president of Yuanyue's student council."
"Right? Hehe."
Great—before, praising Yan Huan in front of Bai Yi made her flustered. Now she beams like a proud parent whenever anyone compliments him, as though her own fans were praising her.
Bai Yi puffed her cheeks and wandered around the living room with her phone aloft.
"What should I say back?"
After mulling it over, she peeled the sheet mask from her face and headed for the bathroom.
"He had a good excuse, but I'm still a little mad. Let him wait—once I've washed my face and done my whole skincare ritual, then I'll reply. Let him taste the suspense!"
All of five minutes.
Jiang Xiong swallowed the urge to point that out.
Hard to say whether Yan Huan or Bai Yi herself would suffer more during the wait.
Ah, adolescence.
He opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Instead, he said gently,
"By the way, Yi-yi, don't you think it's time you and your mom had a real talk?"
Bai Yi's steps toward the bathroom faltered; she gave no answer.
Jiang Xiong glanced at her back and continued,
"You two haven't spoken since the game expo. This cold war can't go on forever."
"Uncle Jiang, you told her about me singing, right?"
"Of course."
"And she didn't approve."
"She didn't reject it either."
Bai Yi bit her lip, fingers tightening around her phone. She frowned, eyes fixed on the floor.
"No approval, no rejection—just disapproval on the inside. She's silent because my singing's doing well and the labels keep calling, so she has no excuse. But the moment I stumble, she'll be first to sneer, 'See, I told you not to sing.' You know she will."
Jiang Xiong fell silent; he had no counter-argument.
He knew Zuo Jiang-qin well enough to admit Bai Yi was right.
"All right, then. Let things run their course."
He offered a wry smile. "Never thought I'd end up the firewall between you two."
Bai Yi's gaze softened, complicated. Her birth father had died when she was small. Left to raise her alone, the once pampered Zuo Jiang-qin had grown fiercely controlling.
Memories of her father—gentler times—grew more golden by contrast.
Even after Jiang Xiong married her mother, Bai Yi never called him "Dad." He didn't mind.
"Call me whatever feels right, Yi-yi. Just remember—we're family."
For a moment Bai Yi opened her mouth, then closed it. Clutching her phone in one hand, she summoned the phantom pocket-watch into the other. Since Sunday's expo she'd almost forgotten her power—she'd been too happy.
But the cold war with her mother brought it pulsing back. Fingers around the ticking watch, she forced a smile over her shoulder.
"Okay, Uncle Jiang. I'll wash my face and decide what to text Yan Huan."
"Good."
He sipped his water, unaware of the soft, rhythmic ticking that now filled the room—like droplets of time.
Drip... tick... drip... tick...