Chapter 15: Boyfriend

Evening came, and the whole family—Uncle, Auntie, and their kids—were gathered together, playing mahjong while waiting for Jingjing’s show to start. Meanwhile, Jing Dad was still lost in thought…

The trip back to Shanghai had been surprisingly smooth—except for the fact that if you didn’t count red lights, traffic jams, or toll booths, he’d have kissed Jingjing twice over, smearing her lipstick completely off.

"Why hasn’t the compensation been finished yet…?"

"Ms. Qiao," the voice replied coolly, "the compensation multiplier depends on the severity of the injury."

Jingjing darted past the hotel entrance just in time, narrowly avoiding little Zhu who’d come running out with a beaming smile. She strode forward like a woman on a mission, leaving Zhu floundering behind.

"That driver, sir…"

"You worry about yourself. Leave me alone."

Fine. Boss was right.

Yu Tu returned to his dorm to tidy up his books. The diligent gatekeeper, puzzled by the unregistered, rarely seen Mercedes-Benz SUV, had to call the head of security for permission. Lucky for him, it was approved.

Jingjing’s opening act was breathtaking—flame-red lips, fierce stage presence, all fire and motion. Yu Tu missed every second of it.

Traffic was bad. By the time he parked near the TV station, it was already the second segment.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through Weibo. Screenshots, GIFs, fans screaming “Goddess!”—he couldn’t help but do a quick mental calculation. “Qiao Jingjing” was basically equivalent to five thousand spacecraft launching at once.

Then, a message popped up:
“I’ll be out in ten minutes. Meet me at the front of the TV building. Car has documents.”

Yu Tu timed it perfectly, driving up the slope. From the bustling chaos inside the gates, she burst out—hot, breathless, radiant—the most beautiful girl in the world. Her clothes had changed, her makeup still fresh, a short skirt peeking out from under a long winter coat, legs long and bold as she sprinted toward him.

Little Zhu could barely keep up, panting behind her, watching in disbelief as Jingjing slid into the front seat—*her* seat?

Zhu lunged for the half-open window, grabbing the edge: “Jingjing, you—”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Teacher Yu?!!!”

Yu Tu waved casually. “Little Zhu, happy Lunar New Year!”

The round-faced girl froze—like a system crash. Jingjing waved her hand in front of Zhu’s face. Only then did her pupils refocus. “Jingjing, I was supposed to pick you up with Uncle Wang on the sixth…”

“No need,” said Yu Tu gently. “I’m bringing her back on the sixth.”

“Yeah,” Jingjing added, “we’re going home together.”

Their voices overlapped perfectly. Yu Tu smiled and added, “Little Zhu, take a break. No need to run around.”

“Alright, we’re off! Tell your mom Happy New Year!”

Boss’s voice—usually soft and delicate—was now bright, cheerful, full of life, like a healthy, thriving little bird.

Zhu stood there, dazed, stepping forward slowly. Teacher Yu…
A man this handsome? Every girl would remember him. I hope Boss doesn’t mind…

But Lingjie definitely will.

Just as the car pulled over to a quiet roadside, Lingjie’s call came through. The two were locked in a deep, tangled kiss—soft, urgent, impossible to stop. Jingjing finally pushed away, swatting at him while fumbling to end the call.

“Blame you! I couldn’t even answer video!”

She called back quickly. Yu Tu was already sitting upright, behaving like a perfect gentleman. Jingjing, calm and composed, faced her agent with poise.

“Got it. Totally understand. We’re high school classmates…”

“No, nothing’s planned. Teacher Yu’s job isn’t suited for public exposure…”

“Oh, just wait till we get home—I’ll explain everything…”

“I know. I’ll be careful. I’ve got experience.”

Lingjie sighed on the other end. “Good. It’s not the worst thing in the world, you know. You’ve always wanted to shift gears—maybe this can open some doors…”

“Shifting careers is one thing. This has nothing to do with dating. I’m an actress, not a pop idol…”

“Though, admittedly, you *do* have the look of one…”

Lingjie knew exactly what was coming after that “though.” She cut in: “Alright, alright. I’ll prep a PR plan. Just keep your heads on straight, both of you!”

At midnight, the car glided into the parking spot outside Jingjing’s house. Yu Tu pulled her close again, kissing her slow and thorough—justifying it by muttering, “Your lipstick’s already uneven anyway.”

He’d originally planned to leave the car and walk home. But Jingjing convinced him otherwise: “That wouldn’t look like a driver.”

So the driver and the hostess parted with a kiss. But he didn’t want to be a driver.

On the afternoon of the second day of Lunar New Year, Jingjing’s family—her uncle’s side, her aunt’s side—were all gathered at her grandparents’ lakeside home. Besides the usual tradition of watching Jingjing’s performance, there was another activity: mahjong.

Jing Dad was the most enthusiastic organizer. As Jingjing once joked to Yu Tu, “He’s the kind of guy who’s terrible at the game but obsessed with winning.”

The big table was alive with action. Jingjing leaned against her grandmother, whispering funny stories from filming, making the old lady laugh so hard she nearly dropped her tea.

“Jingjing, sweetie, come here…”

When Dad called like that, it usually meant he was losing badly—and needed his little princess to bring luck.

She sat beside him, half-focused on the cards, half-distracted by messages from Yu Tu. Emojis flashed between sentences—so fast, so chaotic, Yu Tu felt his blood pressure spike.

“So boring…”

“I have no idea why they’re so addicted.”

“Dad lost again. His face is turning green.”

“He blames me for being useless. Waaah…”

“How about this—put on headphones, turn on video, I’ll help you.”

Right. She had her own super soldier.

Jingjing excused herself to go pee—perfect cover for retrieving her wireless earbuds, hidden neatly in her long hair.

And sure enough, the tide turned instantly. With her lucky charm on the line, Jing Dad suddenly became unstoppable—reversing every loss, charging ahead like a storm, sweeping aside opponents left and right until the entire table was wiped clean.

Jingjing’s uncle had already asked his wife for money three times. “Brother-in-law, can’t you let someone else win once? It’s the holidays—everyone should be happy, right?”

Jing Dad chuckled modestly. “Fair play, isn’t it? When you won, did I complain?”

“Come on, daughter, let’s keep going!”

Jingjing’s cousin—sharp-eyed and sly—noticed his mother’s sour expression and slipped in to offer advice.

After just a few hands, he spotted Jingjing’s secret signal. Quietly, he circled around. At the moment her grandfather declared, “Hu!”—pushing down his tiles—he yanked her phone off the table and slapped it face-up.

“Uncle’s cheating!”

Jing Dad’s gaze met the screen—his own face, smiling back from the phone, next to the word “Driver.”

The man looked calm. Too calm.

Jing Dad wasn’t so steady anymore. He turned to his daughter. Jingjing glanced around, then whispered weakly, “Calling for backup doesn’t count as cheating, does it?”

It was the holiday. His mood plummeted.

Jing Dad sat frozen, tension thick in the air. Jingjing stood silently beside him, head down. The group around the screen scattered in seconds, moving two meters away from the table. The game was over.

Jingjing’s uncle almost took advantage—opened his mouth—then closed it again.