Chapter 49: Tang Jiayi and Jiang Yan’s First Meeting

“Dinner’s ready!”

After over an hour bustling in the kitchen, Su Chen stepped out to find Jiang Yan already asleep on the sofa.

He didn’t wake her. Instead, he quietly set the table and brought out all the dishes.

Tonight, he’d made a Cantonese-style seafood claypot porridge, along with two small sides: stir-fried eggs and garland chrysanthemum.

He usually ate light in the evenings, not for the sake of his figure, but simply out of long-standing habit. In his previous life, though not from the south, his work often took him to Canton and Guangdong. He still remembered the first time he tasted claypot porridge—how astonishingly delicious it was! Who would have thought a humble bowl of porridge could be so remarkable? From then on, every trip south required a serving of seafood claypot porridge.

When his travels became infrequent, he began experimenting with making it himself. Over time, his skills became quite refined—he could recreate at least ninety percent of the authentic flavor.

After setting out the cutlery, he walked over to Jiang Yan.

“Hey, dinner’s ready!”

No response.

“Get up, it’s time to eat!”

He called several times, but she didn’t stir. So he had no choice but to gently nudge her arm.

Jiang Yan wore a checkered, Peter Pan-collared blouse today, a bit of her pale arm exposed. Su Chen didn’t touch her skin, but even through the fabric, the sensation was startling.

She blinked sleepily, taking quite a while to gather her senses before glancing at the table and asking, “Is it ready?”

She stood, stretched languidly—a movement full of vitality—then headed straight to the table without so much as washing her face.

Surveying the unfamiliar dishes, her curiosity was piqued. “Is this the porridge you made?”

Su Chen nodded, handing her a bowl filled with steaming porridge. “Try it,” he said, gesturing with his chopsticks for her to taste the sides as well.

“These are all the dishes you made?” she asked, skeptical. “Why don’t we just eat out?”

Her palate usually demanded bold flavors, and this looked bland and watery, hardly appetizing.

Su Chen said, exasperated, “Just try it. If you don’t like it, you can have something else when we get home.”

He hadn’t asked what flavors she preferred before cooking—everything had already been bought. She could take it or leave it.

Knowing she was just here for a free meal, Jiang Yan didn’t argue. She picked up a spoon, took a delicate mouthful, and was instantly enveloped by a wave of savory freshness.

Her eyes lit up.

Hmm? Not bad at all!

“It’s delicious!” she exclaimed, immediately taking another spoonful.

Then another, and another.

She couldn’t stop.

Having lived in the capital for years, she’d rarely visited the south. This was her first taste of such porridge, and it felt like her taste buds had awakened to a new realm.

She devoured two large bowls in quick succession, utterly unconcerned with maintaining her celebrity image.

Afterwards, she rubbed her stomach contentedly and, glancing at Su Chen, found her gaze changing.

In the soft golden light of the dining room, his chiseled face seemed even more striking. She recalled his composure in the face of rumors, his focus and dedication in the kitchen—unexpectedly, Su Chen had many virtues. Apart from his rather mediocre songwriting, he excelled in almost everything else.

Her thoughts drifted, and a flush crept up her cheeks as her mind conjured up who-knows-what images.

Su Chen, eating his food, looked up and saw Jiang Yan’s expression. He frowned in confusion.

What was this woman up to now? Why was her gaze so peculiar all of a sudden?

His movement startled Jiang Yan from her reverie, and the blush quickly faded from her face. She hurriedly changed the subject.

“How’s work lately?”

“Oh, and why did you get off so early today? I thought I’d have to wait much longer.”

Su Chen replied offhandedly, “It’s fine. There wasn’t much to do at the office, so I came home early.”

Jiang Yan paused, instinctively assuming Su Chen was having trouble adjusting at work. After all, he was a recent graduate, just starting out, still finding his footing. Thinking of that thick stack of songs he’d written, she softened and offered a rare word of encouragement.

“It’s all right. Everyone’s like that at first—you’ll get used to it. Wen Yan told me the songs you wrote in college were pretty good. I’m sure you’ll make it.”

In university, Su Chen’s former self had indeed composed a few songs and been signed by Dynasty Entertainment. But, truth be told, many student works are all surface without substance; lacking experience, it’s hard to capture true spirit. Entertainment companies sign new talent not because their current songs are outstanding, but simply to secure potential at minimal cost.

Jiang Yan knew all this.

Su Chen, for his part, found it inexplicable. He genuinely had nothing to do. But he didn’t bother explaining; any more questions would only lead to more scrutiny. So he simply grunted in acknowledgment.

After dinner, Su Chen tidied up the table and kitchen. Seeing Jiang Yan still lounging on the sofa like a boss, he couldn’t help but ask, “When are you leaving?”

Jiang Yan immediately reverted to her usual self. “What, eager to chase me out? Don’t you want to do something else?”

Su Chen shook his head helplessly.

This woman was a born tease—all talk, no action.

He was about to retort when Jiang Yan spoke softly, “Let me sit a while longer,” her tone tinged with a rare weariness.

Su Chen’s heart softened.

He’d seen enough of the entertainment world in his past life to know what celebrities were really like. Behind the glamour lay unseen sacrifices. They got tired, they cried, they worried over their careers. In the end, they were just ordinary people beneath a glossy exterior.

He didn’t press her.

If she needed to rest, he’d let her be.

Jiang Yan sat quietly on the sofa while Su Chen busied himself cleaning the apartment. They chatted off and on, the conversation light and easy. Occasionally, Jiang Yan would crack a risqué joke, and Su Chen had to admit she was a true master at it.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

Eventually, Jiang Yan drifted off to sleep again.

The weather in Jiangcheng was turning cool, so Su Chen fetched a clean blanket and gently covered her. Then he returned to his room, pulled out his laptop, and began to read. Before long, drowsiness overtook him, and he dozed off at his desk.

Knock, knock, knock!

Suddenly, there was a rap at the door.

“Brother Su Chen, are you home?”

A crisp voice called from outside.

Jiang Yan was startled awake, and groggily rose from the sofa. “Coming!” she called, her steps unsteady as she walked to the door and opened it.

Outside stood Tang Jiayi, phone in hand, head lowered as she typed a message to Su Chen. She hadn’t noticed the woman’s voice from inside and, feeling the door open, assumed it was Su Chen.

“Brother Su Chen, when did you get back? I saw the house was quiet, so I thought I’d try knocking. I didn’t expect you’d really…”

She was deleting the unfinished message as she looked up, delighted—only to stop mid-sentence.

Standing in the doorway was a beautiful, graceful stranger.

A stranger—yet so familiar! Wasn’t this someone she knew?

“You… you…” Tang Jiayi pointed at Jiang Yan, so excited she was momentarily speechless.