CHAPTER 89: CHAPTER 89 BROWN SUGAR GINGER TEA

It wasn’t long before Song Cheng’an arrived. He entered the room and glanced around, not finding any trace of Jiang Jingheng.

He looked at Mu Yan and asked, "Didn’t Jing Heng come? Where is he?"

Mu Yan’s eyelid twitched as she replied, "He went out."

"Then it’s a good time to talk work while he’s not here." Song Cheng’an nodded and sat down on the sofa.

Mu Yan walked to the tea cabinet to pour him a glass of water, and brought it over.

Song Cheng’an took the cup, glanced at her, and asked, "Why do you look so unwell?"

Mu Yan gave a slight smile, "It’s nothing, just an old problem."

She sat back on the bed, facing him.

Song Cheng’an took a sip of water, placed the cup on the side table, and got to the point.

"This issue isn’t particularly tricky. I’ve contacted Chief Editor Hao, who will publish a statement. Also, you need to interact with Zhou Lifen on Weibo, showing sisterly affection. Can you act it out?"

Mu Yan nodded, "I understand what you mean. The first to fall out will lose."

"I’ll find someone to help you write the draft." Song Cheng’an said.

Mu Yan shook her head, "No, I’ll do it myself. No one understands her better than I do."

Song Cheng’an glanced at her, knowing she wouldn’t make a promise lightly.

"Okay."

She clutched her stomach, curling up her body, looking pained, her face turning even paler.

Song Cheng’an stood up, supporting her shoulders, and asked, "Are you okay?"

He raised his hand to touch her forehead, feeling a cold, damp sensation.

Why so cold!

Just as he was about to speak, the door suddenly went "beep," and then the door opened.

Mu Yan and Song Cheng’an both looked over simultaneously and saw Jiang Jingheng standing at the door, his handsome face dark as ink.

His cold voice came out, "What are you doing?"

Mu Yan’s brows furrowed slightly. Why did she feel like she’d been caught in bed?

Song Cheng’an immediately realized something, quickly withdrawing his hand.

"Jing Heng, don’t misunderstand. I saw that Mu Yan was feeling unwell, so..."

Jiang Jingheng ignored him, walking in with a cold expression.

Song Cheng’an promptly stepped back to give Jiang Jingheng space.

Jiang Jingheng walked up to Mu Yan, raised his hand to hold her pale and bloodless face, and spoke softly, "Feeling really bad? Let’s go to the hospital?"

Looking into his eyes full of concern, for a moment, Mu Yan almost thought he truly cared about her.

She shook her head, "I’m fine, just need to rest."

She looked at him and explained, "Don’t get the wrong idea, there’s nothing between me and Brother Song."

This time, Jiang Jingheng was both amused and irritated. She actually considered his feelings.

He said calmly, "I believe you. With his character, you wouldn’t be interested."

Song Cheng’an, "..."

What do you mean by my character, what’s wrong with me?!

He objected indignantly, "Hey, Jing Heng, watch your words..."

Jiang Jingheng continued to ignore him and looked towards Lian Jun at the door, frowning, "Bring it in!"

"Yes!" Lian Jun walked in carrying a thermos cup and a bag of items.

Jiang Jingheng took the thermos, poured a cup of brown sugar ginger tea, and handed it to Mu Yan, "Drink some ginger tea, it might help you feel better."

Mu Yan took the cup, blew on it, and sipped delicately. The ginger flavor was strong and sweet.

She drank another sip, feeling warmth spreading in her stomach, and that warmth seeped through her body.

After a few sips, she asked, "Can you tell me where to buy this?"

She thought of buying a cup in advance before going to the set tomorrow.

Lian Jun replied, "Actually, this is..."

"No, you can’t!" Jiang Jingheng suddenly interrupted him.

Mu Yan frowned, glaring at him. How stingy!

Unbeknownst to her, this glare was seen by others as a coquettish look.

"Tomorrow, I’ll have Lian Jun bring some over. He’ll go buy it." Jiang Jingheng replied.

Mu Yan didn’t refuse, turning to Lian Jun, "Sorry for the trouble."

Lian Jun hurriedly said, "No trouble, no trouble."

The head chef didn’t mind the trouble, so how could a mere errand-runner complain?