Chapter 55: The Veiled Truth

“Breaking the law? Do you think this is the first time I’ve done something illegal?” Fan Chi seized her wrists with one hand, forcing them above her head, while his other hand aimed at her face and unlocked her phone. “You’re still too inexperienced to take me on!”

As Fan Chi opened her Weibo, Lian Youyou panicked. “Don’t touch it! Put it down right now!”

Fan Chi narrowed his eyes at her screen, a trace of irritation crossing his face. “Damn it, your entire Weibo is just clarifying plastic surgery rumors.”

He tapped the ‘write post’ icon, and as the new page popped up, his fingers danced swiftly across the screen, bringing up the keyboard.

She couldn’t let him use her phone to post on Weibo!

Celebrities’ Weibo accounts were always under public scrutiny—if Fan Chi posted something and she deleted it later, sharp-eyed netizens would have already taken screenshots and shared them online. Deleting a post could even be worse than leaving it up; once you delete, people label it ‘deleted in seconds.’

And when a celebrity deletes a post like that, people always speculate it was written in a moment of impulse, then hastily erased to cover something up.

Lian Youyou struggled desperately, but Fan Chi’s grip was iron—she couldn’t break free.

In her panic, she lowered her head and bit down hard on the hand he was using to type.

Fan Chi gasped in pain through gritted teeth. “Let go!”

He didn’t give her back the phone, and Lian Youyou refused to release her bite.

“Let go of me!”

Fan Chi finally released her arm, then raised his broad palm and brought it down hard on the top of her head.

His strength was brutal; with each blow, it felt as if her brain was shaken loose inside her skull.

Still, she didn’t let go, and Fan Chi kept hitting—one slap after another, each heavier than the last, relentless as a laborer pounding a sandbag.

The pain made Lian Youyou’s scalp tingle; her whole head spun as if caught in a storm. Was he going to give her a concussion?

Maybe he was finally overwhelmed by the pain, or maybe he realized she wouldn’t yield, but in the end, Fan Chi gave up and threw her phone under the seat.

Ignoring the throbbing in her head, Lian Youyou lunged for her phone like a starving beast and cradled it to her chest.

Fan Chi, shaking his bruised, numb fingers in frustration, was both resentful and helpless. He had other ways to deal with her, of course, but this was a public place, and plenty of people had seen him arrive—he simply couldn’t risk going any further.

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that!” Fan Chi opened the car door and yanked her out.

Clutching her phone, Lian Youyou looked up and flashed him a triumphant smile.

“Listen, Lian Youyou—because you’re my daughter, I’ll let you off for now,” Fan Chi threatened, jabbing a finger at her nose. “But if you keep trying to get revenge, I won’t hold back just because we’re family!”

Lian Youyou’s cold laugh met his glare. “You talk about family ties? Fan, when you and Qu Wuyan hurt my mother in the delivery room, did you care about marriage or sisterhood?”

The delivery room…

The veiled truth struck home, sending a chill through Fan Chi’s blood.

“What nonsense are you spouting?” he tried to sound calm, but his heart pounded with dread.

No one was ever supposed to know—only he and Qu Wuyan were aware of what happened that night. All these years, no one had mentioned it; surely, the truth was buried with the past.

He and Qu Wuyan would never be foolish enough to expose themselves, and Chen, the doctor shocked into unconsciousness at the time, had been silenced forever—no witnesses left.

“Fan, your whole family should be careful,” Lian Youyou’s voice echoed by his ear, ethereal and chilling. “Walk the night roads long enough, and you’re bound to run into ghosts.”

But Fan Chi was a veteran of the business—he wouldn’t be rattled by a couple of threats. “I don’t need warnings from a little girl like you. Lian Youyou, let me make it clear one last time—your mother died of complications in childbirth, and it was your fault! If you spread more baseless rumors and smear my name, my legal team will send you a letter immediately.”

“I don’t know about rumors, but your recent actions might be open to some speculation.” Lian Youyou’s smile was meaningful.

Fan Chi followed her gaze and saw a camera lens poking out from a nearby car window.

He was being tailed by paparazzi!

“No wonder Director Fan is so famous—wherever you go, you have fans and reporters trailing after you. I’m just an unknown actress, so I won’t keep you company. I have a shoot to get back to.” Lian Youyou raised her brows with a smirk, satisfied with the outcome.

She’d been away long enough; it was time to return to set. She had no intention of wasting more time fighting for headlines with Fan Chi.

Richard had slipped away without a word. Glancing at his empty seat, Lian Youyou asked Coco, “Where’s Mr. Li?”

“He said it was too cold and left early.” Coco stood up and straightened the messy topknot atop Lian Youyou’s head. “Weren’t you just having a conversation with Director Fan? How did it turn into a brawl?”

“Pretty much,” Lian Youyou replied, regretting she hadn’t reincarnated into the body of a burly man. Then she could have given Fan Chi the beating he deserved.

“Didn’t Director Li say your scenes are almost wrapped? You should finish before the New Year.”

“That’s great; I’ll be home for the holiday.”

This was a male-lead drama, spanning from Zhao Dezhang’s childhood to his tragic suicide as a young man. The story was dominated by political intrigue and power struggles at court, painting a vivid picture of the early Northern Song dynasty through Zhao Dezhang’s eyes. There was little room for romance, so her character, Lady Wang, and even Fan Xiaoyun’s character Ping’er, had few scenes.

“Oh, by the way, Youyou, you asked me to buy those gifts… Fu Yuanye’s already out of the hospital—what should we do with them?” Coco asked, troubled.

“I almost forgot.” Lian Youyou remembered she’d asked Coco to buy a pile of health supplements as a get-well gift for Fu Yuanye.

But since he’d already been discharged, who should she give them to? She’d already sent plenty of tonics to her own parents; their storeroom was nearly overflowing.

“I know who’ll get them. Just leave them there—I have to shoot now, but I’ll deliver them tonight,” Lian Youyou said.

After straightening her disheveled costume, she hurried off to the set.

The next scene she was filming was a meal with friends.

Fan Xiaoyun, having just wrapped a scene, glared at Lian Youyou, who was deep in discussion with the director, her heart brimming with resentment.

Because Shao Zihan had landed in jail, a new actress had been brought in to play Ping’er’s maid, and all of Shao Zihan’s scenes had to be reshot. This made Fan Xiaoyun busier than ever, since she’d had the most scenes with Shao Zihan.

It was a classic case of trying to steal a chicken and losing the rice instead.

And it was all because of Lian Youyou!

“Miss Fan, could you step aside? We need to set up for the next scene,” the props master said, carrying trays of prop dishes behind her.

“Oh.” Fan Xiaoyun snapped out of her daze and took two steps back.

“Xiaoyun, did you see Lian Youyou playing the victim on Weibo again? Do you believe any of it?” Zhao Qingqing, her co-star, folded her arms and watched Lian Youyou with jealousy. “Director Li grins ear to ear every time he sees her. Either she bribed him, or she’s sleeping with him.”

“Don’t make baseless accusations. Youyou is my sister. If you keep saying things like that, I’ll be angry,” Fan Xiaoyun replied with perfect poise.

Zhao Qingqing rolled her eyes, cursing Fan Xiaoyun for being two-faced.

Just then, Xiao Shu hurried over with something for Fan Xiaoyun. “Here’s what you asked for, Xiaoyun.”

Zhao Qingqing glanced down curiously. “Wasabi paste?”

Hah, and she claimed Lian Youyou was her sister—yet here she was, plotting against her behind the scenes.

“Youyou may be my sister, but she turned public opinion against my father. I can’t let her off so easily,” Fan Xiaoyun said as she squeezed a huge blob of wasabi into the stir-fried vegetables and stirred it well. “I need to remind my dear sister that turning on your own family is never right.”

That plate of vegetables was the only real food on the table; the rest were just props.

“You’re putting in that much?” Zhao Qingqing’s scalp tingled at the sight of the wasabi tube.

“She’s supposed to eat first according to the script,” Fan Xiaoyun replied, handing the wasabi to Zhao Qingqing. “You dislike her too, don’t you? Just enjoy the show.”

“Everyone, to your places! Cameras ready, actors ready! ‘Legend of Dezhang,’ scene forty-six, second shot, take one—action!”

Lian Youyou entered the room with Zhao Qingqing, supporting her by the arm. “Please come in, sister. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

They sat at the table. Lian Youyou picked up the wine pot and poured tea for Zhao Qingqing. “I’m so grateful for your help. I prepared some dishes myself—just a humble offering, but I hope you’ll accept them.”

“There’s no need for such formality,” Zhao Qingqing replied with a smile. “We’re family. If I don’t help you, who will?”

“You’re right, sister.” Lian Youyou returned the smile with a hint of mischief. “Please, let’s eat.”