The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 34

Yu Siya had been feeling rather annoyed lately.

For the first time, she realized that her business partner, friend, and artist was a hidden romantic—a major romantic.

Every day, Chu Shiyin would dash off to cuddle with her lover, leaving Yu Siya waiting outside hotels or scrambling to handle leaked photos. But now, she actually wanted to go public?!

Ha! Yu Siya couldn’t even imagine how long Weibo would crash if Chu Shiyin announced her relationship.

Yu Siya crossed her arms and asked again, “Are you sure you want to go public?”

Chu Shiyin nodded. “If not this year, then next year or the year after. It’s inevitable.”

Yu Siya’s head throbbed. Is this karma for turning a blind eye to my artists’ internal affairs?

She tried to remain calm as she advised, “Shiyin, you know that announcing your relationship would unleash a media frenzy.”

After a pause, she continued, “Zuo Xingning would be at the center of the storm. She’d be torn to shreds by criticism, possibly even becoming an overnight sensation—for all the wrong reasons.”

“I understand,” Chu Shiyin said, her expression unwavering. “That’s why I came to you—to revise our work plan and prepare for going public.”

Yu Siya closed her eyes and sighed. “Why does being in love necessarily mean going public?”

“In the entertainment industry, countless celebrities announce their relationships, but after a few years, less than half remain together. After a breakup, it’s awkward enough running into an ex, let alone their friends.”

“Even those who stay together aren’t much better off. They’re constantly plagued by rumors of breakups or marital troubles—it’s endlessly exhausting.”

“Shiyin, you’ve always valued your privacy. Why give others fodder for gossip?”

“I still advise you to focus on your relationship and take your time.”

Yu Siya poured her heart out, but Chu Shiyin remained unmoved. After Yu Siya finished, Chu Shiyin simply said, “No.”

“If I don’t go public, do you think rumors about my relationship will just disappear? I’d rather take control of the narrative than be forced to admit it later.”

“For me, this is also about being responsible to my fans.”

Chu Shiyin didn’t rely on her fans for income, so she could afford to be a bit “willful” in this situation.

Yu Siya rubbed her temples. “You’ve made up your mind?”

Chu Shiyin nodded. “By planning ahead and gradually guiding my fans to accept my relationship with Xingning, we can prevent the backlash after the public announcement from spiraling out of control.”

“Fine,” Yu Siya said, knowing she couldn’t dissuade her. She reluctantly agreed. “Once you go public, you’ll be seen as a unit. You’ll need to manage your own people, so keep a close eye on Xingning.”

She paused, still wanting to confirm. “Are you absolutely sure about this? It’s not just a spur-of-the-moment decision?”

Yu Siya still felt it was too early to discuss this. Her anxiety unconsciously manifested in her body language as she pressed her hands against the edge of the table, leaned forward slightly, and asked, emphasizing each word, “You won’t regret this in a few days, will you?”

Under her intense gaze, Chu Shiyin suddenly seemed to drift off, a smile playing on her lips.

“Of course not.”

Having known Chu Shiyin for years, Yu Siya recognized the dangerous glint in that smile—

Chu Shiyin wanted to go public.

Even more so after she said it.

Yu Siya, utterly perplexed, saw her off and immediately called Lin Fei.

“Shiyin wants to go public?”

Lin Fei’s voice on the phone showed no surprise, as if she had anticipated this all along. “Relax. She’s not impulsive. If she told you her plan beforehand, it’s probably not a big deal.”

“Of course I know that. It’s precisely because Shiyin isn’t impulsive that I can’t understand this,” Yu Siya said, still puzzled. “Why does she suddenly want to go public so badly?”

“Who knows? Maybe she’s feeling insecure.”

Lin Fei tossed off the reply casually, not giving it much thought. But for Yu Siya, it was like the clouds parting to reveal the sun. She instantly grasped Chu Shiyin’s true motive:

Chu Shiyin didn’t just want to go public; she wanted to brand Zuo Xingning with a mark that belonged solely to her.

Perhaps she even intended to use public opinion to make it impossible for Zuo Xingning to leave her easily.

A madwoman…

Yu Siya hung up, her lips twitching into a wry smile.

Chu Shiyin had always been a madwoman.

Regarding their public plan, both Chu Shiyin and Yu Siya had tacitly kept Zuo Xingning in the dark.

The afternoon after the play’s final performance, Chu Shiyin and her team departed early for work.

Several days later, after a series of setbacks and mishaps, the Fuyi production crew finally wrapped filming.

Zuo Xingning, eager to return home, politely declined the wrap party invitation and booked a late-night flight back to Ancheng.

To her surprise, Jiang Shuqing was also in the VIP lounge.

“You didn’t go to the party?” Zuo Xingning approached and greeted her.

“No,” Jiang Shuqing replied, glancing up coldly before immediately looking away, as if Zuo Xingning were invisible.

Zuo Xingning exchanged a look with Lizi, their eyes conveying the same question:

Did you upset her?

No, I didn’t.

Deciding not to dwell on it, Zuo Xingning, who wasn’t one to chase after cold shoulders, turned to find another seat.

But just as she took a step, someone cut in front of her, blocking her path between Jiang Shuqing.

“Excuse me, this is Miss Jiang’s private time. She’s not accepting any requests for photos, autographs, or other interactions.”

The speaker appeared to be in her early thirties, with sharp, upturned eyes that revealed more white below the irises. Her eyebrows were arched, and even with a smile on her face, her gaze sent a chill down one’s spine.

Zuo Xingning disliked that kind of look. She frowned and pulled down her mask. “I’m not a fan. I’m Shu Qing’s friend. May I ask who you are?”

“I’m her cousin, Zhao Danrong.”

Jiang Shuqing stood up from behind Zhao Danrong, glaring fiercely. “Zuo Xingning, who said you’re my friend? Haven’t I made it clear how much I despise you?”

She shoved past Zuo Xingning’s shoulder and stormed out. “It’s too stuffy in here. I’m going out for some air.”

“My apologies,” Zhao Danrong said, giving Zuo Xingning an inscrutable look before following Jiang Shuqing out.

“Xingning,” Lizi said, still dazed. “What’s wrong with Jiang Shuqing?”

“…Who knows?”

Zuo Xingning crouched down to pick up the silk scarf that had fallen to the floor.

It was the one she had given Jiang Shuqing as compensation, the same scarf that had been neatly tied around her neck during their last meeting that afternoon.

How distracted must she have been not to even notice when it slipped off?

Having grown familiar with Jiang Shuqing’s personality, Zuo Xingning could now easily decipher the hidden meanings in her words.

For instance, when Jiang Shuqing said “How annoying,” the translation was: Don’t get too close to me. Don’t act like we’re close.

This was Jiang Shuqing’s way of protecting herself.

Unfortunately, their seats happened to be in adjacent rows.

Zuo Xingning swore that when Jiang Shuqing saw her taking her seat, her expression froze for a split second before she shot a quick glance at Zhao Danrong.

Zhao Danrong, on the other hand, showed no particular emotional reaction. She smiled warmly at Zuo Xingning and apologized again for the earlier incident.

“Shu Qing has been spoiled by us,” Zhao Danrong said. “She means no harm. Please don’t take it personally, Miss Zuo.”

Zuo Xingning let out a cold snort through her nose, treating it as a response.

Despite her frosty demeanor, Zhao Danrong’s smile remained unchanged. She nodded politely before settling into her seat.

Her flawless etiquette felt artificial, like that of a mannequin.

Zuo Xingning’s frown deepened. Just who was this cousin named Zhao Danrong?

She certainly wasn’t Jiang Shuqing’s manager or assistant, nor did she seem to work in the entertainment industry.

The formal address, “Miss Zuo,” felt strangely formal.

So what was she doing here? And where was Jiang Shuqing’s usual assistant?

Zuo Xingning shifted in her seat, subtly inching closer to the front row.

The first-class cabin was quiet, but Jiang Shuqing and Zhao Danrong were speaking in hushed tones. Even with Zuo Xingning’s exceptional hearing, she could only catch a few words, like “Mama” and “Auntie.”

It was clear they were referring to the same person: Jiang Shuqing’s mother, Jiang Yujun.

For some reason, Zuo Xingning felt a growing sense of unease.

This feeling peaked when she saw Jiang Shuqing emerge from the airport, immediately surrounded by several tall, muscular bodyguards.

The guards were dressed in security uniforms, making them appear like ordinary airport personnel. However, their imposing presence rivaled even Zhongli Yan’s bodyguards.

They were definitely not ordinary.

Was Jiang Shuqing truly here of her own free will?

Zuo Xingning couldn’t shake her anxiety. After much deliberation, she opened WeChat and sent a message to a contact she had never used before.

President Zhongli, do you know Zhao Danrong? It might not be spelled exactly like that, but it sounds the same. I saw her with Shuqing, and Shuqing’s expression seemed off. I’m a little worried.

Half an hour later, Zuo Xingning checked her phone.

Still no reply. Her message had vanished into the digital abyss.

The black car sped down the wide road, feeling like a mobile prison.

Jiang Shuqing, restless and stifled, rolled down the window.

The night wind whipped through her waist-length hair, the ends slapping against the seat back, unable to stretch freely.

After deciding to portray Jiang Qingrong, she had rushed to a nearby salon to dye her hair black. The dark strands lent her an air of quiet melancholy—a stark contrast to her usual vibrant demeanor.

Zhao Danrong, who had been observing her for some time, pressed on, “I’m only doing this for your own good. Auntie nearly lost her mind when she heard the news. You shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t what?” Jiang Shuqing snapped.

She had heard variations of “you shouldn’t” countless times on this journey. “Shouldn’t I act? Shouldn’t I have met Zuo Xingning? Or shouldn’t I have defied your aunt and sold myself to the Zhongli Family?”

“Shuqing!” Zhao Danrong rebuked her, her face turning terrifyingly cold. “Swallow those words and take them to your grave!”

“Fine,” Jiang Shuqing sneered, flicking her fingers. “Open the door. I’ll jump out and die right now.”

Zhao Danrong softened her tone, coaxing, “Don’t be childish. Listen to me and apologize to your aunt.”

“President Zhongli is away on business, and he won’t be back for at least a week. No one can save you now.”

“Your aunt has always doted on you. Just be obedient, go home, soften your stance, apologize, and tell her you and President Zhongli are doing well. She definitely won’t punish you.”

Jiang Shuqing remained silent. Zhao Danrong sighed and stopped trying to persuade her.

The car pulled into the driveway of a detached villa.

The night was starless and moonless, and even the bright lights couldn’t dispel the oppressive, inexplicable gloom.

Jiang Shuqing walked behind Zhao Danrong, watching her report to the woman seated at the head of the table: “Aunt, Shu Qing is back.”

“You’ve worked hard. Go rest.”

“Okay.”

Zhao Danrong turned to leave, casting one last glance at Jiang Shuqing.

Jiang Shuqing stood motionless, her eyes seeming to look at Jiang Yujun, yet also through her, as if searching for someone else.

The woman she had once idolized.

“You’re back?” Jiang Yujun glanced at her coldly.

“Kneel.”