Eighty-three, it's been a long time.

Wang Luo hurriedly picked up the flowers and followed after seeing this.
“Su Wan, I didn’t expect things to turn out like this. Please don’t be angry.”
Su Wan rolled her eyes, feeling extremely annoyed, but for the sake of not breaking character, she held back.
Wang Luo unconsciously tightened her grip on the bouquet. Su Wan used to never speak harshly, but today she had spoken so viciously to an old man.
What happened to her?
Was it because of Wang Luo’s previous betrayal, or later…
“After Binding the Lapdog System, I Took Home the Handsomest Rough Man” Eighty-three, Long Time No See
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“Drive,” she said to the driver.
“Have you memorized all your lines for the afternoon scenes? I checked — today’s scenes really test your acting skills. Are you ready?” The moment she got in the car, Zhou Yang couldn’t wait to chatter on.
“Yes, I’m ready.” She looked at him, answering calmly.
His enthusiasm was instantly extinguished by her unruffled tone.
“Go on,” she prompted when he fell silent, nudging him.
“I…” Zhou Yang’s words stuck in his throat, neither up nor down.
“Yes?” She looked at him.
“It’s nothing,” he replied, utterly emotionless. He fell silent, vowing not to speak again.
Five seconds later—
“Anke, let me tell you something…” Zhou Yang couldn’t hold back.
They arrived at the set, she finished her makeup and chatted briefly with Amy before shooting began. After directing the others, the director came to explain her scene.
“This scene is mainly between you and Ji Ye. We need to reshoot a few shots from the previous fall, then proceed as planned. Gu Wanxing’s emotions here must be extremely delicate…”
She listened intently, nodding occasionally and sharing her own thoughts.

This only made Liang Huaixiao admire her more, finding her increasingly likable.
Time slipped swiftly by as she immersed herself in her role, portraying the character’s life—a small chapter in her own story, too.
The final scene wrapped up only at six o’clock. The director came over, saying, “Great work, thank you,” to which they replied, “It wasn’t hard, not at all.”
On the way home, Zhou Yang informed her that the perfume commercial she’d taken on was rescheduled to eight o’clock tonight.
She glanced at her watch—nearly seven. There was no way she’d make it home for dinner.
“Let’s head to the shoot,” she said, resting her head on her hand and closing her eyes to nap.
Remembering something, she pulled out her phone and called Aunt He to explain the situation.
Zhou Yang explained beside her, “This shoot is for two people. The other’s schedule couldn’t be adjusted, so they had to move it up.”
“Who?” If it was a lesser-known celebrity, the sponsor wouldn’t have bothered rescheduling, since it meant rearranging all the equipment, staff, venue, photographers, costumes, and so on.
“Jiang Wanwan,” he replied.
“Never heard of her.” She looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
Meeting her puzzled gaze, Zhou Yang sighed and explained, “You really need to pay more attention to people in the industry… Anyway, about her!”
He glanced at Anke, who, catching his look, returned it with confusion: “?”
“Jiang Wanwan, started as a model, comes from a prominent family, has had continuous resources since debut, rising rapidly.”
“So famous? But I remember this brand’s perfume isn’t even high-end.” She remarked.
“Right, I heard they’ve been negotiating with Jiang Wanwan’s side for this ad. As soon as you agreed, they did too. Also,” he leaned in, lowering his voice, “the model mentioned in the comments under your Weibo is her.”
“The one about stirring up rumors?” She thought for a moment.
“Yes!” He looked at her eagerly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She leaned back in her seat, noticing his gaze.
“You’re not even reacting? The mistress is coming to make trouble for you and you just say ‘hm’? Is that your husband?” Zhou Yang looked at her, furious.
“No,” she replied, lips barely moving.
Zhou Yang: “?!!”

She turned to him unhurriedly, “He’s your husband.”
…
He could hear the driver trying not to laugh.
“Second Uncle! You’re laughing at me!” Then he turned to the hopeless Anke, admonishing, “How can you joke at a time like this! Hurry, hurry, hurry, call your husband!”
“Call him for what?”
…He fell silent.
Right, for what? They couldn’t let Ruohe find out that his rumored lover and his actual partner were filming an ad together. What if he and the model…
“Then don’t call yet, meet the model first, then decide. I need to make a call.”
“To whom?” She took a sip of water, keeping the bottle in hand.
“To the makeup artist, of course! I’ll get the best one so you’ll outshine everyone, dazzle thousands of admirers!” He bent his arm, fist clenched, elbow sharply down, gave her an encouraging gesture, and nodded, “Yes!”
Anke chuckled silently, saying nothing.
She opened WeChat, clicked into a chat window, the avatar a rose with an ink-black background.
She typed: Thank you for last night.
She thought for a moment, deleted it, and retyped: You came back last night, right? Thank you. If you’re free tomorrow, let me invite you out.
No, she thought.
She deleted the last sentence and sent the message.
No reply—perhaps he was busy.
She pressed the lock screen, slowly closed her eyes, and rested.
Zhou Yang, seeing this, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, pulling out his phone to browse Weibo.
With silence in the backseat, the driver drove even more steadily.