Chapter 15: Shh, Can’t Call Him Dad!…

Chapter 15: Shhh, No Calling Him Daddy!

Song Chuqing and Ji Fuxi shared one car, while Zhao Geyun and Zhong Chen took another.

Zhao Geyun watched the smoothly moving vehicle ahead, then turned to Zhong Chen, who was driving. "Chenchen, am I seeing things? Mr. Ji personally escorted them?"

Zhong Chen was equally surprised. "You're not mistaken."

Thinking further, it wasn’t that strange—after all, he had just sent her mother there a few days ago.

As she processed this, Zhao Geyun messaged Song Tan: "Your husband is coming with us."

Song Tan: "What do you mean 'husband'? Stop talking nonsense."

Song Tan: "Why is he coming?"

Zhao Geyun: "No clue. Maybe he wants to see you?"

Song Tan: "..."

Meanwhile, in the other car, the four-year-old girl wasn’t used to long car rides and began dozing off shortly after leaving the capital’s city limits.

The blanket in the car had been taken by her mother last time, so Ji Fuxi had no choice but to cover her with his own suit jacket.

Drowsy, Song Chuqing mumbled sleepily, lifted her feet, and tilted her head at a sharp angle.

Within ten minutes, the jacket slipped off three times, and Ji Fuxi picked it up each time.

Song Chuqing was a little handful when asleep—well-behaved before dozing off, but within two minutes, she’d inevitably kick the blankets off, then snuggle into them. Laying her flat only lasted a minute before she’d revert to her original position. During those two nights of getting her to sleep, he’d spent the last twenty minutes just tucking her in.

Uncle Li, glancing at the unrestrained sleeping position in the rearview mirror, chuckled. "This little girl really doesn’t take after you, Mr. Ji. I remember you were so quiet as a child when you slept—wouldn't budge. However you fell asleep was exactly how you woke up."

Zhuang Cheng added, "Maybe she takes after Ms. Song."

Uncle Li: "Could be. Kids either resemble their dad or their mom. What do you think, Mr. Ji?"

Ji Fuxi’s gaze lingered on Song Chuqing, who had finally settled down.

He couldn’t recall clearly, but it seemed so—her mother had been the same way.

During the one night they’d spent together, he’d woken up twice, both times to find the woman’s legs thrown over him. No matter how many times he pushed them away, they’d inevitably return, along with her arms clinging tightly, as if he were a teddy bear she refused to let go of.

At the memory, the corner of Ji Fuxi’s lips curved upward.

So bold when asleep, yet the moment she woke up, she’d flee—such a fake.

There was no snow today, but it was Friday, and the highway was crowded. The drive to the shooting location took four hours.

By the time they arrived at the hotel’s underground parking lot, it was past seven in the evening. To avoid being photographed, the two cars drove straight in.

Song Chuqing was fast asleep. Even after being woken up, she was still groggy, clinging to Ji Fuxi.

Zhao Geyun glanced at the father-daughter pair and politely asked, "Mr. Ji, would you like to come up for a bit? The driver must be tired after such a long trip—you could rest for a while."

Ji Fuxi pondered briefly before telling Zhuang Cheng, "Book a room. We’ll leave tomorrow."

The dinner engagement had already been canceled, and he still had to put her to sleep later. Since they were already here, staying overnight wouldn’t be a problem.

Zhuang Cheng: "Understood, Mr. Ji."

After sending Song Chuqing and the luggage up to Song Tan’s room, the little girl gradually came to her senses and begged to see her mother. Zhao Geyun asked, "Mr. Ji, would you like to join us?"

It wasn’t convenient—Ji Fuxi wouldn’t go. "You go ahead."

Zhao Geyun wasn’t keen on bringing the VIP along either, as it would require explanations. "Alright then. The conditions here aren’t great, Mr. Ji. If you’d like to eat, there’s a restaurant diagonally across from the hotel, or you could order in."

"Thanks."

Song Chuqing, now fully absorbed in the excitement of seeing her mother, hardly gave him a second thought. She waved cheerfully, "Daddy, wait nicely here for me and Mommy to come back, okay?"

"Okay."

The three left, and Zhuang Cheng returned after booking the room.

The hotel at the shooting location naturally couldn’t compare to those in the capital. The best suites had already been taken by resident actors, leaving only a few standard rooms with king beds.

Zhuang Cheng asked cautiously, "Mr. Ji, should we try another hotel?"

"No need. The king room is fine."

"Understood."

But when they opened the door to the room, the man’s brow furrowed.

The space was cramped, the air laden with musty odors and bathroom smells, and the bedding was starched stiff.

Behind him, Zhuang Cheng hesitated nervously. "Should I… check other hotels?"

"Go."

…

Ms. Tan had a night scene that day.

By the time Zhao Geyun and the others arrived, they were still filming in the studio. Tao Tao came out to greet them and was instantly charmed upon seeing Song Chuqing.

A miniature version of Ms. Tan, unbelievably cute—her lashes curled upward, her large eyes shining bright, like a fairy.

But Song Chuqing was a bit shy, hiding in Zhao Geyun’s arms.

Zhao Geyun introduced her, "Don’t be shy, Xiao Chu. This is Sister Tao Tao, Mommy’s assistant."

Only then did Song Chuqing work up the courage to greet her, "Hello, Sister Tao Tao."

"Hi there!"

Tao Tao thought excitedly—her voice was so sweet and soft, absolutely precious! She wanted one of her own!

Suppressing her maternal instincts, Tao Tao said, "Ms. Tan still has two more scenes to shoot. It’ll probably take another half hour."

"That's fine," Zhao Geyun instructed. "Make a restaurant reservation for us to eat later."

"Will do. Should we invite the director or the lead actor?"

"No, just us today." Zhao Geyun thought for a moment and added, "Book three additional places, as backup."

"Okay."

They entered together, and Song Chuqing’s eyes widened at the array of equipment and lights inside the studio.

They made their way behind the director, squeezing into a gap for a better view.

The set was quiet, with no one speaking, everyone’s attention fully focused on the actors in front of the camera.

Today’s shoot involved family conflict. Unlike the gentle and caring male lead in the dream sequences of *The Great Dream*, the female lead’s parents in the dream were terrifyingly suffocating. As the older sister, the female lead was bled dry to support her family, mired in agony yet unable to escape.

The last two scenes involved the female lead breaking into an argument with her parents, once again caught in their accusations and manipulation. She came to her senses, and when she opened her eyes again, she returned to reality, grappling with the dream’s aftermath.

By the time Zhao Geyun and the others arrived, the female lead was already in the midst of a heated dispute with her parents. Song Tan was fully immersed in her role, her eyes glistening with held-back tears as she choked out bitterly, “Is your perfect score a thousand or ten thousand? Do you even want a daughter or just a provider?”

“When I was little, the neighbors…”

The female lead recalled the past, rattling off a lengthy monologue before her tears spilled over right on cue. “You couldn’t bother faking concern. I’m running a fever, and just because I didn’t reply to your messages, you showed up at your door, first words out of your mouths were demands for money…”

She broke down sobbing, her expression heartbreaking.

The parents froze speechless.

The set was equally hushed, with a few crew members sniffling quietly.

This was where the parents were supposed to respond, but the actors seemed to have forgotten their lines. Director Fang let the scene run.

Song Tan sagged to the floor, face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking.

Outside the scene, Zhao Geyun slowly sensed something was wrong. When she glanced down, the child in her arms was weeping silently. Zhao Geyun quickly covered her mouth and comforted her, “Xiao Chu, don’t be scared. Mommy is just acting. She’ll be done in a minute.”

Tears rolled down Song Chuqing’s cheeks as she locked eyes with her. Zhao Geyun whispered, “We can’t be loud—it’ll distract Mommy.”

The girl nodded, and Zhao Geyun finally let go.

Song Chuqing stayed quiet, muffling her cries in Zhao Geyun’s shoulder.

Zhao Geyun had been absorbed in the scene too, but now she was stunned by the child’s reaction. How could a four-year-old have such intense emotions? Did she inherit her mother’s acting skills?

After a minute or two, Director Fang finally called, “Cut! Alright, reset for the next take. Touch up makeup.”

There was a short break, but Song Tan still needed to prepare for the next scene. Zhao Geyun nodded briefly with Director Fang but didn’t disturb her.

Yet, as if mother and daughter shared a telepathic bond, Song Tan—under multiple camera angles—precisely turned her gaze toward them. She managed a teary smile, and she waved but didn’t linger, letting the makeup artist continue their work.

Zhao Geyun turned to comfort the little Song Tan. “Xiao Chu, do you know what Mommy is doing?”

The child’s breathing steadied and she shook her head, her voice still hoarse. “No.”

“Mommy is an actress. She’s acting.”

“Isn’t Mommy a director?”

“Well… not yet. Right now she’s acting—she’s the star.”

Song Chuqing thought, *Oh, a star. Li Keke would definitely badger me with questions if she knew. She loves stars.*

“Let’s wait a little longer. Mommy will be done soon.”

“Mm.”

The next scene was also in the studio, just next door, so they barely had to relocate.

“Action!” The stage went quiet again.

Zhao Geyun held the child and continued watching quietly.

After a while, Song Chuqing suddenly pointed in excitement and exclaimed, “It’s Daddy!”

Zhao Geyun followed her finger and saw Ji Fuxi, who had materialized unnoticed. Startled, she immediately covered the little girl’s mouth again and glanced around.

Luckily, the girl’s voice hadn’t been loud, and there weren’t many people nearby—otherwise, that would’ve blown their cover.

“Sweetie, we can’t call him Daddy here.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Zhao Geyun fought back frustration. “Because if people knew about Xiao Chu and Daddy’s relationship, they might do bad things. So we have to keep it a secret for now.”

Song Chuqing didn’t fully understand, but she was a well-behaved girl. If Ge Yun said not to say it, then she wouldn’t.

She quietly looked toward her father in the distance and secretly beamed. *Hehe, Daddy’s watching Mommy act too.*

Ji Fuxi had arrived three minutes earlier, driven out by the stuffy room and its condition.

He’d slipped in unseen just as this scene began, standing to the side and watching.

Under the camera’s gaze, only Song Tan was visible, her eyes red—clearly from crying. She seemed to be waking from a dream, sitting dazedly on the bed with her gaze vacant.

She reached out, clutching at empty air.

After sitting silently for another half-minute, she got up, dragging her feet, and walked to the vanity. She tossed some symbolic item into the trash bin.

Just as she turned away, she paused, retrieved the trash bag, and carried it outside to toss into the neighborhood bin—every motion sharp and deliberate.

The soundstage held its breath, everyone’s eyes following her.

Including Ji Fuxi’s.

The person under the camera was at once known and unknown. Her face was the same, but she wasn’t Song Tan—she was someone else.

Movies weren’t his world, but even he could sense her palpable grief. Looking closer, he could see the quiet liberation behind her despair, the microexpressions fleeting yet authentic—so real it didn’t feel like acting. It was as if, for one unguarded instant, he caught a glimpse of her true self.

For a moment, Ji Fuxi couldn’t tell—which one was really her? And how could someone so completely become another person?

The scene lasted about two minutes and was nailed in one take.

Director Fang called through the walkie-talkie, “Alright, that’s a wrap!”

Unlike the heaviness of the previous scene, the crew whooped in relief for the early finish.

Only then did the line producer notice Ji Fuxi hidden among the crowd, hurrying over anxiously. “Mr. Ji, what brings you here?”

Ji Fuxi’s gaze shifted from the woman who had turned away from the crowd, hand pressed to her sternum, looking queasy, before he answered lightly, “Just had some business nearby.”

The producer turned to call Director Fang, who was equally surprised. “Mr. Ji?”

Ji Fuxi nodded. “Director Fang.”

After exchanging a glance with the producer, Director Fang came to a silent agreement. “Since we wrapped early today, would you like to join us for dinner, Mr. Ji? We can invite the leads too.”

Ji Fuxi’s gaze drifted past them—a few steps away, Song Tan had already scooped up her daughter.

He gave a nod. "Alright."

Director Fang gestured for her to come over, "Song Tan, come here."

Then he said to the assistant director beside him, "Go fetch Pei Ling."

Song Tan had only seen Zhao Geyun and Song Chuqing earlier and didn’t know he had arrived, nor was she aware of Zhao Geyun’s instructions. She whispered in her daughter’s ear, "Baby, you can’t call him Daddy later. Act like he’s a stranger."

"Uh-huh, Auntie Geyun already told me. I know."

"Good girl."

Mother and daughter approached, and Song Tan greeted them.

Ji Fuxi’s gaze swept over the mother and daughter, gave a slight nod, silent.

Director Fang, seeing Song Chuqing for the first time, asked, "So this is your daughter?"

Song Tan patted her little shoulder, and Song Chuqing stole a glance at her dad before saying, "Hello, uncles."

"Aw, what a little darling."

The producer chimed in, "Then, Mr. Ji, shall we go? The restaurant’s already booked."

"Alright."

The restaurant was just a short distance from set. Working in the film base, the staff had long grown blasé about stars.

But today, they still stole extra looks at Song Tan holding her child. She tucked her daughter’s face into her chest, shielding her from view, and went straight into the VIP room.

Once seated, Ji Fuxi still took the seat of honor, with Song Tan separated from him by Director Fang.

Soon the table was packed. After introductions, Director Fang asked, "Mr. Ji, what’s brought you our way today?"

"I was in the area on business and decided to stay over."

"I see, what a coincidence."

As the investor, Yuanhe Group was briefly acknowledged before Director Fang launched into a detailed report—covering filming, post-production, and promotion.

Winding down, Director Fang assured him, "Mr. Ji, I’ve been in this industry for over twenty years, and I trust my instincts. Take my word for it—this one’s a sure bet."

Ji Fuxi gave a thin smile, "Good."

As they spoke, in walked Pei Ling, who had rushed over from the hotel after finishing his scenes. Director Fang introduced him, "Mr. Ji, this is our male lead, Pei Ling."

Having heard about the guest of honor beforehand, Pei Ling wasn’t about to slip up. He walked straight to the seat of honor and offered his hand, "Hello, Mr. Ji."

Ji Fuxi shook it, "Hello."

Director Fang had a soft spot for Pei Ling—his raw talent and earnestness made him eager to give the young actor opportunities. He added, "Mr. Ji, though Pei Ling is young, his skills are undeniable. He’s earned the title of 'One of the Four Rising Stars' in the industry."

Pei Ling jumped in modestly, "Director Fang is too kind. It’s an honor to work on your project and act opposite Teacher Song."

Director Fang: "You should learn more from Song Tan. Acting is half talent, half hard work. She’s got natural instincts—learn all you can from her."

"Yes, Teacher Song has taught me a lot. Her acting, her dialogue work, her dedication—it’s all remarkable. Just the other day, she stayed with us till the end even though she wasn’t scheduled."

Put on the spot, Song Tan awkwardly replied, "You’re being too humble, Pei. I envy your youth, that spark, that hunger—you’ve got a bright future ahead."

Pei Ling flushed pink, "With Teacher Song and Director Fang’s encouragement, I’ll have to work even harder."

Ji Fuxi glanced over. The young man in his twenties had a handsome, clean-cut face, his eyes shining with hero worship as he looked at Song Tan.

After a few seconds, Ji Fuxi lowered his gaze, sipping his tea before setting it down quietly. Too bitter—some off-brand leaves, no doubt.

Sitting quietly beside them, Song Chuqing listened to the adults’ conversation, thinking how odd they all sounded, as if talking was exhausting.

She snuck a look at her dad, who happened to glance back and smile at her, so she blinked in response.

Oblivious to their secret communication, Song Tan seized a quiet moment to ask the waiter for a high chair and child-friendly utensils, adding two non-spicy dishes—cola-glazed wings and greens—to the order.

Once the table was set, she got her daughter situated, removing her puffer jacket and setting it aside. By the time she finished, the talk had died down.

Director Fang asked Song Chuqing, "How old are you, little one?"

With her mom nearby, Song Chuqing found her voice and answered brightly, "I’m four, in kindergarten."

"On break now?"

"Yep! No school today!"

Talking to a child broke the tension instantly.

Director Fang looked the girl over for a moment before telling Song Tan, "Your daughter is your spitting image."

Song Tan’s smile softened, "Yes, she is. Not much like her father."

Ji Fuxi, sitting nearby, shot her a look. Was she doing this on purpose?

Director Fang chuckled, "People are dying to know about your husband. Didn’t he drop you off at the film base the other day?"

Song Tan maintained her polite smile, "He did."

"That’s nice. We should meet him sometime—have a meal together."

"...Of course, Director Fang."

After a few more exchanges, dishes began arriving, and Director Fang let it go. Song Tan breathed a silent sigh, risking a quick look at the unspoken topic of conversation—only to meet his eyes unexpectedly. She quickly looked away.

The rotating tray rotated, bringing the cola-glazed wings and greens around last. Just as Song Tan reached for a wing, the table turned again. She sighed softly—most dishes were spicy, leaving Xiao Chu with little to eat.

By the time Song Chuqing finished her small portion, the wings were still across the table.

The little girl, hungry after the long ride, tugged at her mom, "Mommy, more."

Song Tan whispered, "Wait, the other aunties and uncles are eating too."

"Okay..."

Two minutes later, the wings and greens stopped in front of them—this time lingering longer. Song Tan glanced up and saw Director Fang explaining a local duck dish to Ji Fuxi.

Seizing the chance, she quickly served her daughter, piling greens into the small bowl. The table stayed still, so she added some soup.

But Song Chuqing, faced with an ever-growing mound of greens, pouted.

Greens again. Stinky, grass-like greens—Xiao Chu’s least favorite.

She forced down one bite, but with the next, her eyes welled up. Instinctively, she turned and whimpered, "Daddy..."

Song Tan clamped a hand over her mouth.

Internally panicking: *Sweetheart, this is dangerous!*

Her back chilled as she whispered urgently, "No more, we won’t eat the greens."