Everyone Says I Ride on the Movie King's Fame, Only the Movie King Knows I'm His Creditor - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The paparazzi hadn’t gotten enough shots.

Not only had they taken photos, they had posted them.

In the pictures, Shen Yan had me blocked into a corner of the fire exit, his coat draped over my head.

The headline was ugly.

Jiang Tang Meets Shen Yan in Private After Premiere, Movie King Escorts Her at Close Range.

The comment section passed ten thousand overnight.

[How is she so good at this?]

[She just leeched off the premiere, and now she’s leeching in the fire exit too.]

[Did someone put a spell on Shen Yan or what?]

[Was that thirty-eight thousand all part of the script?]

When I woke up, Sister Chen was sitting by my bed, looking like she wanted to eat someone alive.

“The company wants you to issue a statement.”

I rubbed my eyes.

“What kind of statement?”

“Say that you and Shen Yan are just ordinary colleagues, and that bit about him owing you money was just a joke at the premiere.”

I was wide awake.

“Who gave the order?”

“Shengxing.”

I laughed softly.

Here came Shengxing again.

Seven years ago, they wouldn’t let Shen Yan see me.

Seven years later, they still wanted to erase my past into a joke.

Seeing my expression, Sister Chen’s head started to ache.

“My dear little ancestor, don’t go head-to-head with them. You don’t have any work out right now. If you take on Shen Yan’s fans, you’ll die fast.”

I picked up my phone.

“Haven’t I died enough already?”

Over the past three months, my endorsements had been dropped, my scenes on variety shows had been cut, and my audition notices had been canceled.

The most outrageous one was a brand that demanded I record an apology video.

The apology was supposed to say:

I should not have gotten injured on set and caused trouble for Mr. Shen.

I didn’t record it.

So that job fell through.

Sister Chen sighed.

“Jiang Tang, what exactly do you want to do?”

I was about to speak when a new message popped up on my phone.

Shen Yan: Don’t issue a statement.

Shen Yan: I’ll handle it.

I stared at those two lines.

The next second, he sent another one.

Shen Yan: A creditor can’t take the blame for the debtor.

I couldn’t help laughing.

Sister Chen leaned over to look and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Does he really think of himself as the one who owes you?”

I said, “He is.”

At ten in the morning, Shen Yan Studio posted on Weibo.

The statement was short.

Shen Yan Studio:

Seven years ago, Shen Yan was trapped by illness, and Ms. Jiang Tang lent 38,600 yuan for his emergency treatment. The relevant facts were not previously made public, causing Ms. Jiang Tang to endure false speculation for a long period of time. The studio hereby offers its apology.

Attached below was a hospital payment receipt.

Payer: Jiang Tang.

Patient: Shen Yan.

The entire internet fell silent for three minutes.

Then another kind of voice rose up.

[So what if she lent him money? That doesn’t prove she isn’t leeching off him, right?]

[As his lifesaver, she should avoid suspicion even more. Why is she still clinging to him every day?]

[Thirty-eight thousand for a lifetime of clout. Pretty good deal.]

I looked at those comments and suddenly felt nothing.

This was public opinion.

It didn’t care about the truth. It only cared whether its stance for insulting people could hold up.

Shen Yan called me.

I answered.

The first thing he said was, “I’m sorry.”

I leaned against the headboard.

“Shen Yan, that’s the second time you’ve said that today.”

“It’s not enough.”

“Then how many times are you planning to say it?”

He was silent for a moment.

“Until it stops hurting you.”

I froze.

A long time later, I said, “Then you might have to say it for a very long time.”

Shen Yan’s voice was very soft.

“I have time.”