Chapter 033 He Yunqing, You Must Not

"What wish would you like to make?" He Wenqing asked Jiang Yao gently.

Jiang Yao felt an unprecedented sense of security and peace.

In her drowsiness, she tightened her arms around He Wenqing's neck. "Cheng Yanchi... to win the championship..."

"Ye Yiyi... to become a diva..."

"He Wenqing..."

The man's steps faltered for a moment.

He listened quietly for her next words.

But Jiang Yao didn't speak again—she simply burst into soft, continuous laughter.

Her laughter lingered in his ears, tickling him faintly, making him frown unconsciously.

"What else?" He Wenqing asked softly.

She had made a mountain of wishes, yet not a single one was for herself.

"There’s still..." Jiang Yao stopped laughing. "There’s still Teacher Chen..."

She didn’t finish her sentence. A single cold tear slipped down her cheek and silently fell onto the man's neck.

He Wenqing's shoulders trembled slightly. His thin lips pressed into a rigid line, and he continued forward in silence, saying nothing more...

Blue sea and sky.

A string of long footprints marked the snow-white sand...

A red sports car approached from afar, stopping in front of He Wenqing.

Eileen pushed open the door and got out, her face less than pleasant as she saw He Wenqing carrying Jiang Yao on his back.

"Wenqing, why didn’t you come home last night? The whole family was waiting for you."

He Wenqing glanced sideways, swept his gaze over Jiang Yao on his back, and lowered his voice with a trace of cold indifference. "Family? Who counts as family?"

Eileen brushed her hair aside in mild frustration, leaning one hand on the car. "Even if you no longer consider them family, are you abandoning me too?"

He Wenqing’s expression softened slightly. "You know I’m not."

Eileen took a deep breath, lifting a hand to point at the sleeping Jiang Yao. "All because of this woman? Wenqing, you know her background. Is she truly a match for you? How far can you carry her like this?"

"I’ll carry her until she no longer wants me to," He Wenqing declared without hesitation, turning to walk toward his own car with Jiang Yao still on his back.

Eileen watched his retreating figure, biting her lip hard. "Wenqing!"

He Wenqing did not look back.

On his back, Jiang Yao shivered, mumbling, "Wenqing... He Wenqing... you mustn’t..."

"Mustn’t what?" the man asked quietly.

Jiang Yao suddenly frowned, as if answering a difficult question. "Mustn’t dream..."

He Wenqing's clear eyes deepened as he strode forward some distance, lost in thought.

"I’ll allow you to dream," he said.

Ten days later, the filming of "Heartstab" wrapped.

Ye Yiyi finally shed the dirty, servant’s makeup she’d worn. Jiang Yao gave her a radiant, elegant makeover and snapped photos with her phone. "Congratulations, Ye Yiyi, for surviving your first drama to the finale—even if you played a servant."

Ye Yiyi stuck out her tongue. "Ah Yao!"

Jiang Yao laughed and thrust a bouquet into her arms. "Even if you played a servant, you're the prettiest one."

Ye Yiyi laughed as well, glancing around. "Where’s Cheng Yanchi? He promised he’d come."

"He’s coming," just as Jiang Yao spoke, Cheng Yanchi strode over with his long legs. "I was preparing flowers for you!"

"Where are the flowers?"

Cheng Yanchi pointed outside. "Couldn't bring them in—the biggest one out there is yours."

Jiang Yao and Ye Yiyi exchanged a glance and teased together, "Attention seeker!"

Cheng Yanchi raised his brow, eyeing Ye Yiyi. "You look much better like this. Why waste your talent playing a servant? I’ll talk to my brother about the next project—get our family to invest and let you play the lead."

Ye Yiyi waved her hands. "No, thanks. I’d rather rely on myself."

Jiang Yao smiled, her gaze wandering to the distance.

Eileen had arrived as well, carefully arranging He Wenqing's collar.

Sensing the attention, Eileen turned, gazing at Jiang Yao for two silent seconds before suddenly flashing a meaningful smile.

"What’s she smiling about?" Cheng Yanchi suddenly leaned in, startling Jiang Yao.

Jiang Yao punched his chest lightly. "Smiling at you, attention seeker!"

Cheng Yanchi chased after her. "Hey, Ah Yao!"

The third female lead spotted Cheng Yanchi from afar and came over to greet him. "Hello, Mr. Cheng."

Cheng Yanchi frowned. "You know me?"

"I’ve seen you in the news. Can I add you on WeChat?" She pulled out her phone.

Cheng Yanchi glanced at her, then at Ye Yiyi nearby, and suddenly smiled.

The third lead looked at him, puzzled. "Why are you smiling?"

Cheng Yanchi raised his brows and, mimicking Jiang Yao’s tone, said, "Smiling at you, attention seeker!"

"You..." The third lead was left speechless.

Cheng Yanchi was so popular that in no time several women approached him, all of whom he rebuffed in his own way.

Jiang Yao watched from the side, unable to resist giving him a thumbs-up and clicking her tongue. "You truly are destined for a lonely old age."

Cheng Yanchi waved dismissively. "They’re too much. I’ll wait for you all outside."

Jiang Yao watched his departing figure, shaking her head helplessly, then turned to see Ye Yiyi happily taking selfies nearby.

Above Ye Yiyi’s head, a prop box was swaying precariously, about to fall.

"Ye Yiyi, move away!"

Jiang Yao shouted urgently.

Ye Yiyi didn’t react, staring blankly at Jiang Yao. "Huh?"

Suddenly, the rope holding the box snapped, and the box broke free, tumbling toward Ye Yiyi.

Jiang Yao dashed forward, pushing Ye Yiyi out of harm’s way.

The heavy box, carried by a gust, hurtled straight for Jiang Yao.

At the critical moment, a figure in white appeared, tackling Jiang Yao to the ground.

Jiang Yao barely registered what had happened, only hearing the sound of the box hitting someone.

When she came to her senses, she realized someone was shielding her underneath.

The one protecting her was sweating profusely, beads rolling down his forehead.

He smiled at her—a reassuring smile, certain she was safe.

His smile was still as beautiful as a painting, yet as Jiang Yao looked at it, her heart twisted in pain.

"He Wenqing!"

She called out, her face deathly pale.

The man’s smile remained, his lashes trembling slightly, but in the end he slowly closed his eyes, his head resting gently on Jiang Yao's chest.

Where Zeng Qiwen had once carved his name.

The scent of blood wafted up. Jiang Yao reached out in a daze, her fingers brushing the back of the man’s head.

Sticky, crimson.

"He Wenqing," she whispered his name.

He did not respond.

"He Wenqing!" she finally cried out, her chest seized by suffocating pain.

Had she harmed someone else again?

"Wenqing!" A crowd rushed over, calling out, "Quick, call an ambulance!"