17

"Where are you?" Qiao Lan's voice is urgent.

"At the studio."

"Are you crying?"

"No…"

"Who's with you?"

I glance at Lin Shen, guilty, and don't answer.

Hurt flickers in his eyes. He takes the phone. "It's me, Lin Shen."

A beat of silence, then Qiao Lan explodes.

"Lin Shen! Can't you control your messy love life? Who started this mess with Qiao Lu? I'm giving you half an hour to clean up the online garbage! Is this how you—"

Lin Shen cuts her off. "My team's handling it. I'll make this right for Qiao Lu."

Qiao Lan's tirade continues, loud enough without speakerphone.

I study his face, nervous.

"What were you going to say?"