Chapter 83: The Affliction of Tenderness Toward Beauty

Qin Meng had been apologizing to all the teachers and staff, but despite countless phone calls, Chu Chuo never answered. She hadn't seen him for days and was beside herself with worry, yet powerless to do anything. The people at the station were furious with Chu Chuo, but dared not confront him; instead, they vented their frustration on her.

When Lin Zhiwei walked out of the broadcast hall, she saw the young girl sitting alone on the fire escape, secretly wiping her tears, her face a picture of sorrow. She wanted to turn a blind eye, took a few steps, but then helplessly retraced her steps. She simply couldn’t bear to see a girl cry—her compassion for beauty was almost an illness.

Qin Meng wept quietly. Though she seemed to thrive under Chu Chuo’s spotlight, she was always cleaning up after him. She was a graduate of a prestigious university, outstanding in every way, chosen through layers of selection to be assigned to Chu Chuo. In her three years as his assistant, she worked overtime nearly every day, never taking a vacation. She had hoped to witness Chu Chuo shine, but he cared little for his career, spending his time in bars, chasing women, or disappearing altogether.

She’d thought of quitting many times, but remembering the arduous journey to secure this job, she hesitated.

Just as she was on the verge of breaking down, a tissue was handed to her. She looked up in surprise into gentle eyes—it was Director Lin.

She sniffled, embarrassed, and took the tissue, murmuring, “Thank you.”

Leaning against the wall, Lin Zhiwei cursed Chu Chuo inwardly a thousand times, but outwardly could only offer comfort. “You’ve done splendidly. Chin up, the heavens never leave one without a way forward.”

Qin Meng gazed at Lin Zhiwei. Though the man before her looked stern, his voice was unusually gentle, warming her heart. For years, she had only herself to rely on, adjusting her own attitude; suddenly, someone cared—it felt wonderful.

“Thank you… Director Lin, I… I will,” she stammered.

Lin Zhiwei sighed softly. Her own artist’s misdeeds had dragged the assistant into suffering. Qin Meng, barely in her twenties, endured immense pressure, always striving to mediate. This resilience and capability commanded respect.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Lin Zhiwei offered, after a moment’s thought. Although she didn’t get along with Chu Chuo, the girl was innocent.

“Thank you, Director Lin. I know… you could have ignored this. Chu Chuo and Emperor Ling’s relationship… Thank you. I’ll resolve it myself.” Qin Meng forced a bitter smile, but felt immense gratitude. No one had ever spoken to her like this.

Lin Zhiwei shook her head. She couldn’t stand girls pretending to be strong. That scoundrel Chu Chuo deserved a thousand deaths. She took out her phone and dialed Nan Yu’s number.

“Find out where Chu Chuo is.”

Nan Yu: “What? Little Lin, what are you up to?”

“Just check,” Lin Zhiwei replied, impatient.

Qin Meng stared at Lin Zhiwei, incredulous—Director Lin really was helping her.

“Alright, let me see… Oh, got it. He’s at SS Bar, 190 Yunli Road…” Nan Yu quickly rattled off the address.

Lin Zhiwei hung up before Nan Yu could start rambling, then said to Qin Meng’s bewildered face, “Let’s go.”

Qin Meng felt surreal. Director Lin had not only found the address, but was taking her there?

“Director Lin, you’ve already helped me find him. You don’t need to trouble yourself further. I can…”

“That kind of place isn’t safe for you alone,” Lin Zhiwei said, and strode out.

Qin Meng wiped her tears and followed, her heart full of gratitude. She never expected Director Lin to be so chivalrous. They were neither family nor friends—almost rivals, even—yet she was willing to help.

She suddenly summoned her courage, hurried after him, and called her driver, “Old Zhang, hurry to SS Bar and bring Chu Chuo’s sunglasses and mask…”

Walking ahead, Lin Zhiwei heard Qin Meng’s nasal voice arranging things and grew even fonder of the girl. Even now, she thought of her artist first—truly dutiful. Staying by Chu Chuo’s side was a waste.

Leaving the TV station, Lin Zhiwei led Qin Meng to her motorcycle, handed her the helmet, “Sorry, I rode today. Is that okay?”

Qin Meng glanced at the sleek black bike, feeling a surge of excitement. Director Lin’s manner really was so cool. Suddenly remembering something, she asked, “I’m fine, but if you give me your helmet, what about you?”

Lin Zhiwei hopped on the bike with a mischievous smile, “Let’s hope I don’t get caught by the traffic police,” then started the engine.

Qin Meng was momentarily enchanted by that lighthearted smile, thinking how lucky it was that Director Lin’s looks were ordinary—otherwise, he’d have legions of female fans.

Lin Zhiwei motioned with her lips, and Qin Meng quickly understood, donned the helmet, and climbed on.

“Hold tight,” Lin Zhiwei cautioned.

Qin Meng obediently grabbed his jacket.

With a passenger and no helmet herself, Lin Zhiwei slowed down to keep things steady. Fortunately, SS Bar wasn’t far—just a ten-minute ride.

Still, when they reached the bar’s entrance, Lin Zhiwei felt a twinge of guilt. She had promised Ling Ziheng not to meet Chu Chuo privately, but as a guardian of young women, the greater the responsibility, the greater the risk.

“Director Lin, maybe you shouldn’t go in. I can handle it,” Qin Meng sensed Lin Zhiwei’s dilemma and promptly took charge.

“We’re already here, it’s fine,” Lin Zhiwei patted her head. Such a perceptive, intelligent girl—how could she not help?

Inside SS Bar, only a few staff were cleaning. Qin Meng immediately spotted Chu Chuo slumped at the bar, and finally relaxed—at least he’d slept here all night.

She hurried over, gently tapped the sleeping man, calling softly, “Chu Chuo, Chu Chuo.”

Chu Chuo waved her off, grumbling, “Go away, don’t bother me.”

Lin Zhiwei sat at the bar, shaking her head in resignation. The bartender, used to such scenes, continued wiping the glasses.

“Hey, are you open?” Lin Zhiwei tapped the counter.

The bartender paused, realizing she was here for Chu Chuo, and hurriedly nodded, “Y-yes, what would you like?”

“Give me half a glass of chilled vodka—no ice,” Lin Zhiwei said, her slender fingers tapping the counter.

The bartender blinked. This guest was tough—vodka in the morning, and only half a glass. He quickly prepared the order.

Qin Meng bit her hand anxiously, not daring to disturb Chu Chuo further. Glancing at the leisurely Lin Zhiwei, she felt useless—unable to handle even this, her face full of worry.