Chapter 4: Cherry Blossoms and Scandal Shots

There were three routes to the summit, each assigned randomly. Once drawn, everyone split up. Soon, it was just me, Chase, and three staff trailing us. Basically alone. I didn’t want to talk to Chase and just wanted to get to the top for lunch, so I powered ahead. The only annoying thing was that Chase, with his long legs, could take three steps for every one of mine. While I was gasping for breath, he looked unfazed. We reached our first checkpoint. Reluctantly, I took a photo with Chase. “Let’s hurry. I’ll say cheese, you say yeah.”

And just like that, we had a basic tourist photo. But as the camera clicked, I reflexively smiled. The photographer nodded in satisfaction, saying we had great chemistry. Cheese. The last checkpoint was a grove of cherry blossoms. Early April, perfect weather, petals drifting like snow. Standing in that shower of blossoms, Chase’s whole vibe softened. Okay, even I had to admit, the guy looked good. I walked over to stand by Chase, planning to just snap another random shot. But Chase had other ideas. “Run from ten yards away and come stand next to me.”

Since when is he the director?

Me: ??? Now you’re directing? Do you even know what our relationship is? I switched off my mic and signaled for Chase to do the same. Once sure the staff couldn’t hear us, I said, “Enough with the act. We didn’t even know each other in high school.”

Whatever, let’s just get through this.

The original villainess met Chase on set—he was there visiting Savannah. Chase stayed silent, his gaze probing, not affectionate. “I’ll pay you more.”

“I’ll add another hundred million to the alimony.”

Now we’re talking.

Me: !!! I was so excited I slapped his arm. “It’s not about the money—I just want to help you out!”

Money talks.

Getting a good action shot while running is tough, but the staff were pros from a top wedding company, experts at making fake couples look in love. I ran back and forth several times, still not meeting the photographer’s standards. A hundred million, a hundred million—my future of easy living depended on this! Smile for the cash. Chase was very cooperative. The staff got bolder. “Hug each other! Get closer, don’t stand so far apart!”

He’s really going for it.

Chase reached out and pulled me forward, making me lose my balance and grab his waist. I looked up at him, and his eyes were gentle, with a faint smile. Don’t fall for it. “Perfect! Just like that!” the photographer squealed.

Embarrassed, I quickly stepped back. Awkward. But as soon as the photographer called it, Chase turned and left. Me: …You were the one who wanted these photos! He went to check the shots with the photographer. I was curious and wanted to peek too, but Chase hurried me away. “Aren’t you in a rush for lunch?”

Guess he cares after all.

Uh… good point. We reached the summit first, just as I’d hoped. I made sure to clarify with Chase. “Just so we’re clear, even if the photos don’t turn out, you still have to pay.”

Gotta lock it in.

Chase gave me a look. I felt guilty—this was easy money. “I’ll give you a 0.01% discount at most.”

Tough negotiator.

Then I dashed to the food table, ready for my feast—only to find it was all fresh seafood and raw ingredients. Please let there be something I can eat. Me: …I’m a kitchen disaster. The only dishes I know are ‘cut your hand’ and ‘burn your hand.’ Chase probably couldn’t cook either. Wish me luck.

Diana’s group got steak. Savannah was stuck with bread, and me… raw food? Of course. I grabbed some salad greens and invited Chase to join me. Chase: …

“I can cook.”

Wait, what?

To my shock, Chase took off his watch, rolled up his sleeves, and started prepping. Who knew he could cook? His long fingers, usually signing contracts, were swift and precise with a knife. I could only cheer from the sidelines. “Wow, those slices are perfect!”

“Wow, that looks delicious!”

“Wow…” Go, Chase. Before I could finish, Chase told me to back off. Hmph. I still helped by bringing him a chair. When the others arrived, they saw me dozing in a lounge chair while Chase prepped lunch. Diana: “Harper! Your husband can cook?”

At least I tried.

Me: I just found out today. Everyone gathered around. Guess I’m not the only one surprised. Only one person came over to me, blocking the camera with her back—it was Savannah. Her face twisted with resentment, looking nothing like the sweet heroine. She glared at me in silence for a good ten seconds. Here we go again. I was baffled. What is her problem? Chase was supposed to be the unattainable second male lead. She chose someone else—why so hostile to a side character like me? Meanwhile, Chase’s cooking was livestreamed. The comments went wild.

“Chase Bennett! He’s even more thoughtful than the guys in my otome games.”

“The CEO can cook? He checks every box for me!”

“I’m hungry. Just ordered takeout.”

…Delicious.

The seafood fried rice was amazing. Not bad for a fake husband. I had to admit Chase’s skills. Not only was it delicious, but the plating was beautiful too. What’s that old saying? The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. As my fake husband, Chase’s rating just shot up to 60! After lunch, we played games and chatted. Something’s up. I noticed that after Chase left, Savannah also slipped out. My gossip radar went off, so I followed to eavesdrop. Savannah: “I have a favor to ask.”

Here we go. Huh? Wasn’t she supposed to be Chase’s one true love? Why so formal? Unfortunately, I only caught that one sentence. The rest was too quiet. All I could tell was that Savannah was asking for something, and Chase refused outright. Savannah ended up crying. Missed the good stuff. I slipped away before they noticed. Back at the villa, before Chase could go to his room, I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s going on between you and Savannah?”

Let’s see what he says.

Chase: “What do you mean?”

Me: “She obviously likes you. If you like each other, why didn’t you get married?”

Deflecting, as usual.

Chase’s face turned icy. I tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry, I’m a model ex-wife. I won’t say a word.”

I’m not here to cause trouble.

Chase sneered. “Where’d you get the idea that I like her?”

Touchy subject.

From the novel! How could that be wrong?! “Everyone online says you’re her sugar daddy.”

Why else would Bennett Corp, such a huge company, spend so much energy on its entertainment division? Chase: “Harper, I never lie.”

What is he getting at?

Me: ??? What does that mean? Suddenly, I remembered his words: “I’ve had a crush on Harper since high school.”

Now I’m lost.

Crap. The plot seemed to have gone way off track, and as a transmigrator, I had no idea what was happening. Whatever. Time to slack off!

Back in the living room, I absentmindedly scrolled through apps. Back to my comfort zone. Suddenly, I saw that the show’s official account had posted our photos from that morning. Movie Queen Diana and Director Mike’s were classic couple poses, full of old-married sweetness. Savannah and Mason’s were artsy—a hand-in-hand run, a princess carry. Then it was me and Chase. In our photo, my eyes were smiling, mouth curved up. Muscle memory strikes again. Chase’s body leaned toward me, face turned to look down at me. The photographer was too good—even a tourist shot looked full of feeling. Swiping right, the last photo stunned me. Cherry blossoms scattered above, I was running toward Chase, my figure a little transparent in the bright sunlight, while he stood in the shadows. Light and dark, movement and stillness. The photo was perfect. The comments screamed.

“This shot… the vibe is unreal!”

“A lonely boy waiting for the girl who traveled back through time for him.”

“I’m shipping them!”

Okay, that’s actually cute.

I long-pressed the photo, only realizing after that I’d saved it. Diana watched the whole thing, a knowing smile on her face. Busted. Me: “Ahem, I just think the photographer is really talented. It’s like saving a picture of a cute dog—you just want to keep it!”

Not buying it, huh?

She nodded, clearly unconvinced. I wanted to grab her and insist a thousand times that I really meant it! Just then, Chase came downstairs, on the phone. “Yeah, help me repost it. I’ll give everyone a bonus.”

Always working.

Diana waved him over. “Your photos turned out great. But you might not win—our side is working hard for votes too.”

Competition’s on.

Chase smiled. “I’m canvassing too.”

Not exactly subtle.

The show’s official account had tagged him—he’d just registered a Twitter account an hour ago. He immediately reposted the show’s post, adding a single line: “Vote for us.”

Well, that escalated.

Me: …That’s not canvassing, that’s an order. Our votes skyrocketed. Not just Bennett Corp subsidiaries, but all sorts of business moguls from finance magazines were reposting. Diana grinned. “What’s going on? Feels like an official announcement. Makes me want to repost for you guys.”

She’s onto us.

Me: …I dragged Chase aside, covering my mic, and whispered, “Are you crazy? With this much attention, how are we supposed to get divorced?!”

This is getting out of hand.

He glanced at me. “Who said I want a divorce?”

Wait, what?

Me: ??? What about my alimony? As I tried to reason with Chase, the comment section was shipping us hard.

“These two can’t help but sneak off to whisper to each other.”

“What, is there something the rest of us VIPs can’t hear? Speak up!”

Can’t win.

Our votes soared, and by the deadline, we’d won first place. Guess we’re stuck together. Before we even got the promised mystery prize, the producers dropped a bomb: “What? Tomorrow we’re going camping?!”

Seriously?

I paced in front of Chase’s door. The thought of tomorrow’s plan made me grit my teeth and knock. He opened the door, fresh from a shower, robe loose. My gaze drifted down his chest before I caught myself—hey, eyes up! Need a plan. I forced myself to look at the floor. “You heard about tomorrow’s camping, right?”

“They said we have to spend the night in a tent.”

Chase: “Yeah.”

That’s it? Me: “That’s all you have to say? Do you realize we’ll have to sleep in the same tent?!”

This is going to be awkward.

Chase sneered. “You worried I’ll do something to you?”

Not helping.

I tried to reason. “I’m worried I’ll do something to you!”

He’s impossible.

The original villainess did stuff like that all the time. Chase: “Oh, I’m not worried.”

He shut the door in my face. What’s with him? Wasn’t he supposed to be the abstinent type, terrified I’d even look at him? Whatever—if he’s not worried, why should I be?