Rong Jingyang felt even more stifled.
Especially when he thought of Du Ruoxin, who was carrying his child, insisting on divorcing him, he felt—
To what extent had he hurt her?
“Daddy, do you know what my favorite food is?” After talking so much, his mouth felt dry. Rong Doudou looked at her father.
“Mm…” Rong Jingyang looked at his daughter’s expectant little face, a trace of shame crossing his heart.
Doudou understood him, but he didn’t understand Doudou.
He, a grown man nearing thirty, couldn’t even compare to a three-year-old. He was a truly failed father.
Rong Jingyang reflected deeply.
“Sticky rice ribs?” His daughter had ordered this dish just now; he could only guess.
Rong Doudou laughed happily, her tiny thumb giving Rong Jingyang’s forehead a thumbs-up. “Daddy is so amazing, you guessed right.”
Rong Jingyang felt relieved—thank goodness he guessed correctly, otherwise how disappointed would his daughter be?
He couldn’t help but kiss the little girl, secretly vowing: he would no longer neglect Doudou’s growth due to work.
She was his daughter.
She was so well-behaved, so filial, so endearing.
He must have accumulated blessings from several lifetimes to have such a good daughter like Doudou.
No.
He was incredibly fortunate to be liked by Du Ruoxin.
It was because of her that their daughter was raised so well.
【Du Ruoxin…】
Thinking of her, Rong Jingyang felt a ripple. His heart, which was as firm as a rock, seemed to soften slightly.
—
After lunch, Du Ruoxin found Miranda.
She was filming a movie.
Miranda had started three films simultaneously and was so busy she barely had time to sleep.
When Du Ruoxin found her, she saw Miranda’s eyes were bloodshot, her voice hoarse, and she’d had who knows how many cups of coffee?
Every word she spoke reeked of coffee.
“Cut! This shot isn’t working. Reshoot it! Emotion, I need your emotion to be fuller, a true, genuine outpouring of feeling, not those acting traces, understand?”
Sadness derived from acting was too fake; it might not resonate with the audience when filmed.
Miranda only focused on authenticity and naturalness when filming.
“And you, get the camera angle right, okay? The actors are ready, but your angle is wrong, how can I proceed?”
“Um, makeup artist, touch-ups! Touch-ups! Can’t you see the actor’s makeup is smudged?”
“Hey, props!”
“Who put that prop there?”
Why didn’t they move it quickly?
Did she have to point out each and every item, each and every matter?
What about the others? Assistants? Set crew? What were they all doing!
When Du Ruoxin appeared, Miranda was in a frantic mess, her face furious, as if someone owed her billions.
She unleashed a torrent of curses, and everyone tucked their tails between their legs, treading cautiously, afraid to make a mistake, afraid to bear their boss’s immense wrath.
It was over!
Something was wrong today; it was likely someone’s job was on the line.
No one wanted to be the one blasted, the little darling who was scolded to tears. They truly wished heaven would grant them a fire extinguisher.
To quell their boss’s temper.
Du Ruoxin felt the explosive temper, and the entire filming set was tense and terrifying, like before an atomic bomb detonation. She couldn’t help but shiver, a chill running through her.
No!
This was not conducive to prenatal education.
Du Ruoxin casually picked up a prop flower and walked forward, offering it as a gift. “Hi, beautiful lady, could you spare a few minutes for me?”
Seeing Du Ruoxin, Miranda felt as if she had seen a savior. She threw her arms around her, “Sister Xin, help me, I’m about to suffocate.”