Chapter Fifty-Four: We Don't Know Which Private Room They're In

Ouyang Mufeng handed the flowers over. “Miss Zhen, have you finished filming? How about joining me for a meal?”

Zhen Mi did not take the flowers. She stood up. “Not interested. Young Master Ouyang, do you have nothing better to do? Why keep hanging around our set?”

She was no naïve girl; she’d heard the notorious name of Ouyang Mufeng. He changed girlfriends like flipping pages in a calendar—never repeating the same one in a month. As long as a woman was attractive, he’d take a liking. A notorious womanizer, through and through.

“Miss Zhen, I truly like you. This time is different from before.”

Ouyang Mufeng knew his reputation was poor now, but he wasn’t some heartless scoundrel who hurt women. Why judge him by his past? This time, he was genuinely trying to change.

Everything in his car, he had picked out himself. Even the rose in his hand, he had learned to select from the florist, from the stem to the bouquet, and even the packaging, all chosen by him. He had even written the words on the banner himself.

“Young Master Ouyang, even if you’re sincere, so what? I don’t like men younger than me. I hope you won’t come again next time,” Zhen Mi replied coolly.

“I…” Ouyang Mufeng was at a loss, hurt flickering in his eyes.

Ouyang Muya couldn’t watch any longer. She strode over and twisted his ear hard. “What are you doing? Do you have nothing better to do all day? Always causing trouble!”

“I didn’t… Ow, be gentle, sis!” Ouyang Mufeng shielded his ear.

“You’ll only learn if it hurts.”

“My apologies for troubling you, Miss Zhen,” Ouyang Muya said politely.

“It’s nothing,” Zhen Mi shook her head.

“You, go home—now, immediately!” Ouyang Muya commanded.

“I won’t. I have the right to be here,” Ouyang Mufeng retorted.

“How about this? It’s almost noon. Why don’t we all go out for lunch together?” Xia Wanqing suggested.

“That sounds great!” Ouyang Mufeng immediately agreed.

“We’re going to eat, not you,” Ouyang Muya said forcefully.

“I want to go too,” Ouyang Mufeng muttered. But since Shangguan Ranran was here, he could invite his second brother. That way, they could all eat together, couldn’t they?

How clever, he thought. That’s the plan.

Yesterday, he’d coaxed the news out of Gong Yi that the person Huangpu Shenqing was with was his former goddess.

Xia Wanqing invited Shang Mingcheng and Zhen Mi, and reserved a table at a nearby restaurant. The director and screenwriter were invited too, but they preferred box lunches and needed to discuss the script, so they declined.

So the group went ahead, pushing their filming to the afternoon.

Ouyang Mufeng was forced to go back by his sister, but who was he? He was tenacious—a cockroach that refused to die. He drove after them and sent the restaurant details to the group chat.

He worried that his second brother might drive him away for Shangguan Ranran’s sake, so he included Gong Yi in the group chat invitation. This way, no one could kick him out—how clever he was.

Huangpu Shenqing also wanted to have lunch with Shangguan Ranran, but when his message went unanswered, he saw Ouyang Mufeng’s post in the group chat and grabbed his car keys.

Ouyang Mufeng had never seen his second brother take his messages so seriously—he came right away.

Huangpu Shenqing’s Rolls-Royce had just stopped when Gong Yi’s Maybach arrived. Ouyang Mufeng checked the time—less than ten minutes. They were definitely not here just for him.

“Second Brother, Third Brother,” he greeted, seizing the opportunity.

“Is Ranran here?” Huangpu Shenqing asked as soon as he got out.

“She is. Second Brother, shall we ‘run into’ them by chance?” Ouyang Mufeng suggested.

“What do you mean, ‘by chance’? We’re not you. We have every right to come for lunch,” Gong Yi replied righteously.

Huangpu Shenqing said nothing, heading straight for the restaurant.

The first floor was for couples, the second held private rooms. They were certainly upstairs, but the problem was—they had no idea which room.

So Ouyang Mufeng hurried after him. “Second Brother, we don’t know which room they’re in.” Even he felt embarrassed admitting it, since he hadn’t followed them up.

“What use are you? No wonder they didn’t invite you,” Gong Yi mocked.

“How about we pick a room for ourselves and wait for them to come out?” Gong Yi proposed another impractical idea.

“Second Brother, we have to eat with them. I heard there’s also a very handsome actor joining them—another man!” Ouyang Mufeng said anxiously. He’d called them over just to have lunch with his goddess.

While the two were at a loss, Huangpu Shenqing, standing at the restaurant entrance, pulled out his phone and dialed with focused intent.

“Ranran, which private room are you in?”

“What? You’re here?” Shangguan Ranran’s reaction was so loud everyone at the table heard. She quickly stood, a trace of panic in her expression.

Something awkward had just happened—she hadn’t told Wanqing and the others about her relationship with him.

“What’s wrong, Ranran?” Xia Wanqing, seated beside her, asked. She had never seen Shangguan Ranran lose her composure in public.

Ouyang Muya and the others exchanged glances.

“What, am I not presentable?” Huangpu Shenqing’s voice held a hint of wounded pride.

“No,” Ranran quickly denied, unable to stand his tone—it always made her feel as if she’d done something wrong.

“I haven’t told them yet. What should I do?” Shangguan Ranran glanced awkwardly around the private room.

“It’s fine, I’ll handle it. Just tell me which room you’re in, all right?”

“Room Eight.”