Chapter 9 Since You’re Here, Why Not Lie Down?

Chapter 9: Since You're Here, Wanna Check It Out?

"Of course, it's because Bai Yingchuan starred in your father's movie! Isn't that reason enough to hang out?"

Lin Lu turned to look at Bai Yingchuan. "Ying Chuan, wouldn't Director Jiang be happy to know you've become friends with his son?"

Bai Yingchuan smiled faintly. "Mn. Jiang Ruotang, are you free?"

Jiang Ruotang stuffed his test papers into his bag and looked up at Bai Yingchuan. His smile was just right, looking straight out of a movie without even needing soft lighting.

But against the sunlight from the windowsill, there was a chilly detachment to it.

Having worked in his agent team for so long, how could Jiang Ruotang not see through Bai Yingchuan's nature?

Even if he was skilled at disguising himself, Jiang Ruotang could keenly sense his true emotions.

In those ten years, countless people had always said his success began with the opportunities Jiang Huaiyuan's camera gave him. It was a topic constantly brought up during his youth, as if he had no inherent value of his own.

For Lin Lu to mention Jiang Huaiyuan in front of him was practically poking the bear. Yet Bai Yingchuan could still smile so warmly—such polished acting chops at such a young age. He had a bright future.

"Bai Yingchuan only starred in my father's movie. They benefited each other professionally. There's no need to keep bringing it up. In the future, Bai Yingchuan will act in other works, and mentioning this might upset other directors." Jiang Ruotang slung his bag over his shoulder and smiled at Bai Yingchuan. "Sorry, Bai Yingchuan—I really have something to take care of today. Once art classes start, I won’t have time."

With that, Jiang Ruotang quickly walked out of the classroom.

"Hey, Ruo Tang! Ruo Tang!" Lin Lu called out loudly, then turned to Bai Yingchuan apologetically. "Ruo Tang actually likes you a lot. He’s even a founding member of your fan club! I think he’s just shy around you."

Implying Jiang Ruotang was acting all aloof.

Bai Yingchuan watched Jiang Ruotang’s retreating figure and teased lightly, "Or maybe his idol image cracked, and he realized I’m not as perfect as in the movies."

"No way. You’re so outstanding—how could Ruo Tang not like you?" Lin Lu said with certainty.

When Lin Lu turned away, Bai Yingchuan’s smile gradually faded, like sunlight sinking into the deep sea.

He wasn’t lacking in love. Whether the only son of Director Jiang liked him or not wasn’t that important.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang caught up with Zhao Zhangfeng at the stairwell in a few strides. "Hey! Where are you running off to? Weren’t you coming to my place to get the sports card?"

Zhao Zhangfeng turned around and rubbed the back of his head. "You’re serious?"

"Yeah."

"Somehow… I feel like you’re luring me to your house just to beat me up?" Zhao Zhangfeng looked skeptical.

"And then my dad beats me up too?"

"Come on. Even if you blew up the school, Uncle Jiang wouldn’t lay a finger on you."

"Let’s go. Anyway, tonight my dad’s going dancing with your mom. If we go home, you’ll be alone, and so will I. We might as well keep each other company."

At the words "keep each other company," Zhao Zhangfeng choked in disbelief, seeing stars.

"Jiang Ruotang, if you want to mess with me, just do it directly. Stop with this nonsense, okay? I’ve told you a million times—my mom doesn’t want a single cent from your family! Stop watching those trashy prime-time dramas, I’m begging you!"

Jiang Ruotang laughed and hooked a finger at Zhao Zhangfeng. Oblivious, Zhao Zhangfeng leaned in, only to get a hard flick on the forehead the next second.

"Did I say anything today about your mom wanting our money? I’m just asking—if your mom and my dad end up together, shouldn’t we at least try to get along? Play nice like brothers?"

"Who wants brotherly love with you…" Zhao Zhangfeng immediately pulled a face.

"Then at least fake it, right? Let’s practice now so we don’t make things awkward for my dad and your mom later!"

Zhao Zhangfeng had to admit there was some truth to that. When Jiang Ruotang tugged at him again, he instinctively followed him into the private car.

Seeing the two high school seniors sitting side by side in the back seat, Xiao Gao, the driver, nearly hit the gas by mistake.

As he drove, Xiao Gao kept glancing in the rearview mirror, worried the two might start fighting in the back.

"So… your hand really is okay?" Jiang Ruotang asked.

"...Yeah, I’m not that fragile," Zhao Zhangfeng replied.

"When’s your next basketball game?" Jiang Ruotang asked again.

"Next Tuesday, against No. 2 High."

"Any college scouts coming to watch?"

"Nah, it’s a small game."

"Will there be a recording? I have class, but I can watch it later."

"...I’ll send it to you." Zhao Zhangfeng felt like he’d die of embarrassment if this kept up.

Jiang Ruotang, can you stop pretending to be so nice? I’d rather go back to our childish bickering—no, our verbal sparring!

Xiao Gao, gripping the steering wheel, let out a deep breath. Hell must be freezing over!

These two sworn enemies were actually having a civil conversation?

Though the exchange was painfully awkward, Xiao Gao inexplicably felt both amused and relieved.

As they passed a high-end custom furniture flagship store, Jiang Ruotang suddenly called out, "Stop here."

Xiao Gao pulled over, and Jiang Ruotang climbed out. Seeing Zhao Zhangfeng still sitting motionless, he tugged at him.

"Come on out."

"What for?" Zhao Zhangfeng snapped.

"To look at beds, cabinets, desks."

"Not interested."

"Oh come on. I told Sister Juan I was bringing you home for dinner, and she went all in saying she’d make lion’s head stew for you. Even if we go back now, we’d have to wait half an hour. You really want to sit in the living room making awkward small talk?" Jiang Ruotang asked.

At the words "bringing you home for dinner," Zhao Zhangfeng’s mind buzzed. "What the hell! I’m just here to get the sports card! Not to have dinner with you!"

Jiang Ruotang had long figured out Zhao Zhangfeng’s temper. Given how they’d always been at each other’s throats, the only way to improve their relationship was to push through with sheer audacity.

"Huh? You’re not eating? Then I’ll just tell my dad I tried to get along with you—even had lion’s head stew prepared—but you didn’t want to..."

"You..." Zhao Zhangfeng opened his mouth. "Fine... You’ve finally shown your... your..."

"My what?" Jiang Ruotang tilted his head, looking at the younger Zhao Zhangfeng.

Still unscarred by life, he had a refreshingly handsome look, with big, earnest eyes. He was the type to soften at a few kind words, yet he acted like a little hedgehog, all prickly defenses—all just to protect himself and his mom.

"Your true colors... You just want to use your dad to snitch to my mom! How old are you, still pulling this crap? Why don’t you go back to kindergarten?"

"Straight out of the kindergarten playbook, these tactics might be direct, but they're effective. Come on, let’s check out some furniture and then grab dinner. With your size, do you really think I could grind you into the dirt?" Jiang Ruotang raised an eyebrow.

"Grind me into the dirt? In your dreams."

Sure enough, Zhao Zhangfeng bit the hook, his face like thunder as he followed Jiang Ruotang into the furniture store.

The desk and full-wall bookshelf in Jiang Huaiyuan’s study had been custom-ordered here, and the manager remembered Jiang Ruotang from that visit. Though the two were now in high school uniforms, the manager greeted them warmly, offering small talk and even calling a staff member to bring hot coffee.

"No need, we’ll just look around a bit before heading back for dinner."

Jiang Ruotang turned to see Zhao Zhangfeng still wearing a sour expression. He could just picture the guy’s internal grumbling: *Here comes the little rich boy, blowing Daddy’s cash again.*

Still, Zhao Zhangfeng couldn’t help but glance around curiously.

Jiang Ruotang leaned in and murmured something to the manager, who nodded and looked at Zhao Zhangfeng.

The manager escorted them upstairs, where Jiang Ruotang wandered among the solid wood beds while Zhao Zhangfeng looked supremely bored.

"Hey, what do you think of this bed? It’s sturdy and solid—won’t make a single creak even if you jump on it. Solid as a rock."

With that, the manager guided Zhao Zhangfeng to the bedside. Jiang Ruotang hopped back and lay down first, then tugged at Zhao Zhangfeng, who sat on the edge looking like an overworked cubicle rat fantasizing about murdering his boss.

"Don’t pull me. I can’t afford a bed this expensive." Zhao Zhangfeng glanced at the five-figure price tag and almost had a heart attack.

"But if you lie down now, you *are* sleeping on an expensive bed," Jiang Ruotang needled, giving another light tug. "Since we’re here, why not try it?"

Zhao Zhangfeng let out a long-suffering sigh and reluctantly lay back.

To his surprise, the bed *was* incredibly stable—no wobbling at all.

Jiang Ruotang sat up, eyeing Zhao Zhangfeng’s frame. Even if he grew to two meters tall, this bed would still have plenty of room.

He studied Zhao Zhangfeng’s expression—he seemed to like the hefty hardwood build, and the fact that it didn’t creak when shifting.

The moment Zhao Zhangfeng opened his eyes and saw Jiang Ruotang watching him, he shot up like a spring.

"What else do you want to see? Hurry up!"

"Let’s check out the desks!"

Jiang Ruotang spotted a matching desk and sat down. "What do you think?"

"Straight out of preschool." Zhao Zhangfeng rolled his eyes and turned away.

After testing several more desks, Jiang Ruotang turned to find Zhao Zhangfeng sitting at a walnut one.

The design was minimalist but practical, with clever storage nooks and clean lines. Best of all, the height was adjustable.

The desk in Zhao Zhangfeng’s room had been bought when he was in ninth grade—too short for his current build, forcing him to hunch over whether gaming or hitting the books. Eventually, he’d just moved his computer to the bed.

He never complained, not wanting to burden others. In his mind, Zhao Yunshu already worked overtime enough to support them—something as trivial as desk height wasn’t worth bringing up.

But Jiang Ruotang had noticed.

Cutting a glance, Jiang Ruotang saw Zhao Zhangfeng drop his eyes, tapping the desk’s thick surface with a solid thunk. He traced his fingers over the storage shelves, as if imagining where his basketball might fit.

That look on Zhao Zhangfeng’s face said it all—this desk had him hooked.