Chapter Thirty-Seven: Liu Yifei’s Puppy

The dinner invitation from the Goddess was not one to refuse, especially since it would be just the two of them—well, plus a little dog. When they signed the contract that day, Chen Ling had casually mentioned to Liu Yifei the possibility of her dog making a cameo in the film. Liu Yifei’s fondness for raising cats and dogs was already well-known in the entertainment industry.

A few days prior, Liu Yifei had called Chen Ling in a playful tone, asking when he would have time to audition her dog, and inviting him to dinner as a way of thanking him for casting her as the female lead. Chen Ling only managed to find time to accept the invitation today.

Liu Yifei chose a private dining establishment, not some five-star hotel or French restaurant—clearly, she valued privacy. The clientele was sparse; her chances of being recognized were much lower. Though Chen Ling was now a director whose films had grossed three hundred million at the box office, his fame still paled in comparison to Liu Yifei’s. Few would recognize him on the street, but Liu Yifei was a household name since childhood, and if she ventured out, she would certainly be mobbed.

When Chen Ling arrived, Liu Yifei was already waiting in a private room. He could hardly expect a celebrity to wait at the door; that would delight the paparazzi to no end.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Senior. I ran into something on the way,” Chen Ling apologized, though his earlier chat with Guo Fan had indeed delayed him.

“No problem, I just got here myself.”

Liu Yifei wore a simple white short-sleeved top and denim shorts, radiating youthful energy. No matter how plain her attire, her beauty could not be concealed. Her appearance was flawless; if one had to find fault, it would be that her smile revealed slightly imperfect teeth.

“Is this the dog you’ve prepared for the movie?”

After some pleasantries, Chen Ling noticed the fluffy little Bichon lying by Liu Yifei’s feet, looking adorably cute.

“Choo choo choo,” Chen Ling bent down and called to the dog, reaching out to pet it.

“Woof woof woof!” The dog immediately jumped to its feet, wagging its tail and barking crisply at Chen Ling, startling him into withdrawing his hand.

“Is it always so temperamental? It won’t bite, will it?” Chen Ling’s previous girlfriend had kept a cat, but never a dog, so he wasn’t very familiar with dogs.

“It’s just playing with you! Have you ever seen a dog wagging its tail while biting?” Liu Yifei laughed heartily at Chen Ling’s timid reaction—her junior was a bit on the cautious side.

“I really don’t know much about this,” Chen Ling admitted, still crouching, observing that the dog’s appearance fit the script’s requirements perfectly—though he wasn’t sure about its temperament.

Human actors could be coached, but animals? Chen Ling knew he lacked the ability to train them.

“It’s very docile, won’t bite anyone. That was just it being affectionate. If you don’t believe me, try petting it.”

“Really?” Chen Ling was hesitant, fearing a bite—rabies was, after all, incurable.

“Of course it’s true. This is my most obedient dog.” Seeing Chen Ling’s doubt, Liu Yifei simply scooped up the dog and placed it in his arms, a bit bold in her manner.

Though still a bit apprehensive, Chen Ling mustered his courage and held the dog. If it bit, surely it wouldn’t hurt too much, given its size.

Once in Chen Ling’s arms, the dog became even more excited, its tail wagging furiously, thumping against his chest, and its little front paws scrabbling at his chest as it tried to reach his face for a lick.

“Eugh—” Chen Ling hurriedly set the dog down. He could handle a lick to the palm, but to the face? That was too much for him.

Liu Yifei burst into laughter, completely unladylike in her amusement at Chen Ling's embarrassment.

Feeling a bit awkward in front of such a beautiful woman, Chen Ling scratched his head and quickly changed the subject. “It should be able to fetch a paper ball, right?”

Better to shift the conversation and avoid further embarrassment.

“Of course.”

Liu Yifei remembered the script’s scene with the dog fetching a paper ball; she had been reading the script for "Breakthrough" these days.

She picked up a napkin, balled it up, and tossed it a few meters away. As soon as the ball left her hand, the dog dashed after it, leaping up and catching it mid-air, then landing with a graceful skid and trotting back to Liu Yifei’s feet, dropping the ball on the floor and sitting up on its hind legs, tail wagging furiously, head bobbing in anticipation of praise.

“What do you think? Perfect, right? I spent a long time choosing this one!” Liu Yifei beamed at Chen Ling, playful and lively.

Born in 1987, Liu Yifei was just twenty-four this year, vibrant and radiant—every gesture drew Chen Ling’s attention.

“If I throw the ball, will it fetch it back too?” If it only responded to Liu Yifei, they’d need to cut the scene.

“Of course. Try it yourself.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Chen Ling balled up a napkin, waved it at the dog, then tossed it in another direction.

Just as with Liu Yifei’s throw, the dog happily retrieved the ball, sitting in front of Chen Ling, wagging its tail, looking utterly adorable.

“Excellent, it passes the audition.” Chen Ling was very satisfied with the dog’s performance.

“Will the director pay it a salary?”

“Of course—two pounds of ribs a day.” With the dog so well-behaved, Chen Ling couldn’t resist petting it. The feeling was surprisingly pleasant—he even got to rub its little belly.

“My pets only eat dog food!” Liu Yifei realized that Chen Ling truly had never kept a dog.

“All right, then two pounds of dog food a day.” Holding the dog in his arms, Chen Ling sat opposite Liu Yifei, smiling.

“What, not enough?” With Liu Yifei silent, Chen Ling added, “We can make it four pounds if needed.”

“Four pounds! If you stuff it, you’ll have to find another one.” Liu Yifei laughed.

“Let’s order food. I’m starving.” They had been chatting about the dog since entering, and hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“Oh, I thought you’d already ordered?”

“I don’t know your taste—how should we order?”

Chen Ling called the waiter, and the two ordered a few dishes they both liked. As it turned out, Liu Yifei shared his preference for lighter fare.

Unlike Jing Tian, that girl-next-door who loved spicy food—whenever they dined out, Chen Ling had always accommodated her tastes.

Knowing Chen Ling had brought a driver, Liu Yifei ordered a bottle of red wine. She had also brought her own driver, so a little wine wouldn’t be an issue.

The conversation was pleasant, and with a bit of wine, the atmosphere grew even warmer. After two glasses, Chen Ling felt fine, but Liu Yifei’s cheeks had taken on a rosy glow—the effects of the alcohol were evident. Still, her speech remained clear, her condition gently tipsy.

Chen Ling cautioned, “Good wine is best enjoyed in moderation. A gentle buzz beats getting drunk—drink less.”

“My tolerance is actually quite decent. When I can’t sleep at night, I like a glass or two to help,” Liu Yifei said, swirling her half-full glass, her eyes narrowing.

“You have insomnia?” Drinking and sleeplessness? Chen Ling couldn’t recall ever seeing such news about her.

“If you had to face all the online rumors every day, you’d have insomnia too.”

“Huayi, right?” Chen Ling remembered how, when the 'Little Cannon' criticized him, a horde of followers had piled on beneath his Weibo posts. Fortunately, someone from the Beijing Film Academy spoke up, and Huayi didn’t press further. Otherwise, he would’ve been inundated with negative press. Even then, he’d felt unsettled for days. This young woman had been hounded by Huayi’s smear campaign for years, not to mention that television production company Tangren. No matter how strong one’s heart, facing relentless slander takes its toll.

Insomnia under such circumstances was normal. Chen Ling recalled the period in his previous life when his family had fallen on hard times; the stress had given him frequent sleepless nights. He too had used alcohol for comfort.

“I can’t take on Huayi yet. Not long ago, 'Little Cannon' took shots at me, but I’m still young. Give me two more years, and I’ll fight back,” Chen Ling said, draining his glass with a grimace.

He was not one to forget a slight. Against Huayi, he currently had no effective way to retaliate; he could only bide his time until he grew stronger.

But even a single person’s strength was limited. His efforts to win over Guo Fan today were aimed at signing more directors for his company in the future, so they could unite and fight back more effectively.

“Huayi is too big; we can’t afford to provoke them,” Liu Yifei advised. After years of being suppressed and slandered, she understood Huayi’s power well. The leading private enterprise was not to be trifled with. Huayi was at its peak now, while she and Chen Ling—a rookie director and an actress whose resources and status wavered—were hardly a match for Huayi. She didn’t want her junior to recklessly challenge the giant; the consequences were unimaginable.

“I don’t mean now. As the saying goes, revenge is best served even after ten years.”

“Fine, ten years later, we’ll settle the score together,” Liu Yifei replied, her face flushed like a ripe apple. The alcohol had clearly taken effect, her words slurred a little, but her demeanor remained adorably clumsy, making one want to reach out and ruffle her hair.

“Revenge is certain. When the time comes, I’ll call you—but for now, no more wine.” Seeing Liu Yifei getting tipsy, Chen Ling moved the nearly empty wine bottle closer to himself, clearly not intending to let her drink further.

“Fine, I won’t drink,” Liu Yifei pouted, unhappy at the sight of the little wine left in her glass.