Chapter 57 p1
Director Gao shooed Meng Wanqing and her zombie horde away like a flock of chickens.
She even posted signs at the entrance and on the walls, declaring that zombies were not welcome on the “Unseen Spring” set and offering a bounty of 800 yuan for the capture of Meng Wanqing.
The crew was excited, eager to collect the reward, lying in wait for Meng Wanqing’s inevitable return.
The paparazzi lurking in the bushes, exposed by Xu Jingyu’s sharp gaze, was also chased away by a furious Director Gao.
Fortunately, the kissing scene was almost finished, just a few more shots needed, and they soon wrapped for the day.
The next few days were spent filming less intense, more emotionally subdued scenes.
A week later, with public opinion finally shifting in Xin Yao’s favor, and Xin Yao herself seemingly in better spirits, Director Gao decided to film the more emotionally charged scenes.
It was the climax of the film, the beginning of the tragedy.
Lu’s father wanted to marry Lu Duanjing off to Wen Sigu’s older brother.
He announced it during a seemingly ordinary family dinner, the news coming as a complete shock to Lu Duanjing, her face paling, her hand trembling, accidentally knocking over a bowl.
But looking back, it hadn’t been entirely unexpected.
The first time Lu’s father had taken her to the Wen residence, it had been a subtle warning, a hint of his intentions.
His subsequent visits, always with Lu Duanjing in tow, hadn’t been about her education, but about giving Wen Sigu’s older brother a chance to assess her, to choose her.
Lu Duanjing, of course, refused.
And Wen Sigu wouldn’t allow it.
But in the Lu household, Lu Duanjing had no say in the matter.
And in the Wen household, Wen Sigu’s father found her objections childish and naive.
He told her bluntly that marrying into the Wen family was Lu Duanjing’s best option, a far better fate than becoming a concubine to some old, powerful man.
Wen Sigu’s anger grew. Lu’s father clearly didn’t care about his daughter’s happiness, treating her like a commodity, a pawn in his game of social climbing.
Her own father sighed, shaking his head.
“Parental authority. A daughter’s marriage is decided by her parents. What can we do?”
“And you, Wen Sigu, have no right to interfere. Besides, wouldn’t Duanjing marrying into your family bring you closer?”
No, it would only drive them further apart, forcing them to live under the same roof, their forbidden love a constant torment.
It would be hell.
Her father’s words made Wen Sigu’s face pale, her usual composure shattered.
But unlike her, Lu Duanjing, usually so timid and obedient, was now defiant, her quiet resistance a powerful force.
And Wen Sigu, usually so bold and independent, now found herself wavering, her fear growing.
She wasn’t afraid of the obstacles they would face, but of the pain and suffering Lu Duanjing would endure, the ridicule and ostracism she would be subjected to.
So, Wen Sigu, her heart aching, wanted to give Lu Duanjing a choice.
A chance to leave, to choose a different path, a life of peace and security.
Lu Duanjing, sensing Wen Sigu’s hesitation, her fear of abandonment growing, became even more clingy, following Wen Sigu everywhere.
She accompanied her on her medical rounds, attended her lectures, even assisted her during her free clinics.
And during one of those clinics, in a remote village, they had found an injured beggar, hidden in a haystack, his body covered in blood.
Seeing his condition, Wen Sigu’s face had paled.
And the beggar, despite his injuries, had tried to run away.
Wen Sigu had caught him, her gentle words calming him, persuading him to stay.
They had cared for him together, their silence a shared burden.
And during that time, the news of the impending marriage, and Wen Sigu’s apparent reluctance, had tormented Lu Duanjing, pushing her to the brink.
In a moment of desperate courage, she had burst into Wen Sigu’s clinic and kissed her, demanding that they be together.
It was the scene Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu had filmed on their first day, the passionate kiss and the love scene, their emotions raw and unrestrained.
In that moment of shared intimacy, they had both realized that they couldn’t live without each other.
And they had vowed to be together, no matter the cost.
But in their time, courage and love weren’t enough.
Their path was filled with obstacles, their future uncertain.
Lu’s father and Wen’s father, both shrewd and perceptive, had sensed something amiss, their daughters’ vehement opposition to the marriage arousing their suspicions.
And secrets, especially in their social circle, rarely remained hidden for long.
They had investigated, their inquiries discreet yet thorough, and had discovered the truth about their daughters’ relationship.
One day, as Wen Sigu walked Lu Duanjing home after her lesson, their hands intertwined, they had entered the Lu residence, their footsteps echoing on the stone pathway.
Lu’s father, waiting for them, had walked towards Lu Duanjing and, without a word, had slapped her hard across the face.
The force of the blow had almost knocked her to the ground.
Wen Sigu’s face had paled, and she had rushed to Lu Duanjing’s side, her hand gently touching her cheek, her eyes filled with concern as she pulled her behind her, her usually gentle demeanor replaced by a protective anger.
“Mr. Lu, what could possibly justify such violence towards your own daughter?”
Her instinctive protectiveness, her unspoken love for Lu Duanjing, had been a clear sign of their relationship.
Wen’s father, also emerging from the house, his usually jovial face now dark with anger, his voice sharp, had exclaimed, “How dare you ask?! Look what you’ve done!”
Wen Sigu’s expression hardened, and Lu Duanjing’s heart sank, a cold dread creeping down her spine.
Lu’s father had glared at them. “Separate yourselves! Now!”
Their fathers’ anger, their accusing gazes, it was clear what had happened.
Wen Sigu realized that their secret had been discovered.
They had just acknowledged their love for each other, hadn’t expected their secret to be exposed so soon.
They stood there, frozen in place, their fathers’ gazes like daggers piercing their skin, their hands still clasped together, the servants watching them, their secret now exposed in the harsh light of day.
Lu Duanjing, raised to be a proper young lady, her reputation now tarnished, felt her world crumbling around her.
Wen Sigu, her earlier hesitation, her fear for Lu Duanjing’s safety, now a painful reality, her heart aching for the young woman she loved.
But just then, Lu Duanjing, the usually timid and obedient daughter, found her voice.
She looked up at her father, her face still flushed from the slap, her voice clear and strong, her gaze unwavering.
“I won’t marry him.”
Her words, though soft, were filled with a quiet defiance.
Lu’s father, stunned by her unexpected rebellion, was about to explode when Lu Duanjing continued, stepping forward, her voice rising.
“Why should I marry someone I don’t love? Why should my father choose my husband?”
“Since I was a child, you’ve controlled my every move! I couldn’t run, I couldn’t laugh too loudly, I couldn’t even speak my mind!”
“And now, even my marriage is just a pawn in your game! Is this my life, or your toy?!”
Her words, stripping away his pretense, exposing his true motives, especially in front of Wen’s father, made Lu’s father’s face contort in rage, his fists clenching.
“Take her away!”
The servants, waiting for his command, rushed forward, trying to drag Lu Duanjing away.
Wen Sigu, however, instinctively shielded Lu Duanjing with her body, her hand gripping Lu Duanjing’s tightly.
Wen’s father’s face darkened.
“Take her away!”
The Wen family servants also approached, their figures and their shadows looming over the two women, like a closing net.
Hands reached out, grabbing their shoulders, their arms, trying to separate them.
They clung to each other, their grip so tight that it hurt, their hands the only connection between them, a lifeline in the encroaching darkness.
They both knew that if they were separated now, it would be almost impossible to see each other again.
They held on, their desperation a silent plea.
Then, Lu’s father stepped forward, his shadow falling over them, and forcefully separated their hands.
“Take her away!”
They were torn apart.
Wen Sigu, her usual composure shattered, her eyes red-rimmed, whispered, “Wait for me.”
Lu Duanjing, her own tears falling, nodded, her grip on Wen Sigu’s hand lingering even after they were separated.
But she would never see Wen Sigu again.
“Okay! Cut!”
The director’s voice echoed through the set, the tragic second act of “Unseen Spring” successfully filmed.
As the scene ended, the crew rushed forward, their voices filled with concern as they led Xin Yao away, helping her to a chair.
Chen Jia, her assistant, ran over, an ice pack in hand, ready to soothe the redness on Xin Yao’s cheek.
Xu Jingyu, who had been filming a different scene, her face impassive, walked quickly towards Xin Yao’s makeshift resting area.
She took the ice pack from Chen Jia, sat down beside Xin Yao, and gently pressed it against her cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle, despite the slight tension in her voice.
“It’s cold. Just bear with it.”
Xin Yao had known she would be slapped in this scene.
But she had been determined to give a realistic performance, and before filming, she had even asked Yi Miao, the actor playing Lu’s father, and also Wen Xin’s real-life husband, to slap her for real, not wanting to fake it.
Yi Miao, a respected veteran actor, had been impressed by her dedication and had agreed.
He had used a technique that minimized the impact, but it had still stung, leaving a red mark on Xin Yao’s cheek.
Shortly after Xu Jingyu arrived, Yi Miao also entered the tent, his expression apologetic.
“Yaoyao, does it hurt? I’m so sorry.”
Xin Yao, her cheek still pressed against the ice pack, smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“It’s not that bad, Teacher Yi. Don’t worry. It’s just part of the job.”
Xu Jingyu, sitting beside her, didn’t acknowledge Yi Miao’s presence, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face, her hand gently holding the ice pack in place.
She wasn’t usually rude, and it wasn’t directed at Yi Miao. She was simply worried about Xin Yao.
After Yi Miao, feeling guilty, had left a pile of snacks and apologized profusely, Xu Jingyu, still holding the ice pack, her expression still slightly sullen, continued tending to Xin Yao’s cheek.
Xin Yao, glancing at her, reached out and gently touched her hand.
“It really doesn’t hurt that much. Teacher Yi was careful. Don’t worry so much. You look like you’re about to cry.”
Xu Jingyu, her hand captured in Xin Yao’s, her fingers being playfully traced and caressed, was silent for a moment.
She knew she couldn’t ask Xin Yao to stop working, to become a delicate flower in her protected garden, but…
“Don’t take on roles like this anymore. Roles that require you to get hurt.”
As expected, Xin Yao refused, her voice light and teasing.
“Ms. Xu, that’s not very professional. It’s part of the job. I can handle a little pain.”
“Why should you have to endure pain?”
“Huh?”
“Yaoyao,” Xu Jingyu removed the ice pack, her gaze softening as she looked at the fading redness on Xin Yao’s cheek. She cupped Xin Yao’s face in her hands, her touch gentle, her voice soft.
“You don’t have to suffer anymore. Not while you’re with me.”
“But…”
“You always work so hard,” Xu Jingyu interrupted her, her voice a soft murmur. “As if you have to earn your happiness.”
“And you’re so independent, always doing everything yourself, never asking for help. And you’re so kind, always putting others’ needs before your own.”
“But it makes me sad, Yaoyao. I want you to take care of yourself, to prioritize your own happiness. You don’t even have to worry about me so much. When you’re with me, you don’t have to suffer anymore, you don’t have to be so independent. You can rely on me completely. I’ll hold your hand and show you, every day, that…”
She paused, a soft smile playing on her lips, her voice earnest.
“I’m not good with words, so I hope this doesn’t sound too cheesy, but I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you’re the most precious person in the world to me, my Xin Yao.”
Suffering.
Xin Yao had suffered a lot.
It was what she was best at, what she had become accustomed to.
Growing up in poverty, working tirelessly to make ends meet, to pay off her debts.
She had pushed herself to the limit, working until 6 am, then sleeping for two hours before returning to work at 8 am.
She had endured it all in silence, her body finally giving out, her life ending in exhaustion.
She hadn’t even realized she was suffering.
But now, the person beside her, seeing through her cheerful facade, had pulled her out of the darkness, holding her close, offering her a different kind of life.
A life without hardship, a life filled with joy.
And her past suffering, like dust on a windowpane, seemed to fade, its sting dulled by Xu Jingyu’s warmth and tenderness.
Xin Yao’s lips trembled, her eyes filling with tears, but she blinked them back, unwilling to cry, her voice a soft murmur.
“That’s so cheesy. But if I don’t work, how will I eat?”
“You can eat candy,” Xu Jingyu said, her gaze soft, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handful of candy.
She offered it to Xin Yao.
Xin Yao’s tears threatened to spill, her eyes shimmering like a pool of water.
After a moment, she reached out and took a candy, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth.
Xu Jingyu, to appease her, always carried candy with her now.
“You’re treating me like a child.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what am I?”
Xu Jingyu looked at her, her eyes soft and warm, a smile playing on her lips.
You’re the only rose in my garden.
My spring.
My sunshine.
Inside the small tent…
Xu Jingyu and Xin Yao sat close together, their conversation a soft murmur, their intimacy a barrier against the outside world.
Xi Yue, the set medic, who had come to check on Xin Yao’s cheek, stood outside the tent, hesitating to interrupt their private moment.
The other crew members, seeing her, suggested she wait, their voices hushed.
And then, the only person on set who seemed completely oblivious to their romantic entanglement appeared.
Director Gao, having reviewed the footage, walked towards Xin Yao, her usual brisk pace even faster now.
Seeing Xu Jingyu also inside the tent, she didn’t hesitate, walking straight in, her assistant unable to stop her.
She stood before them, her hands on her hips, her gaze fixed on their faces, shaking her head.
“No, no, no! This won’t do!”
Xin Yao, confused, blinked. “What’s wrong, Director? Is there a problem?”
Director Gao, startled by her voice, stopped pacing and turned to face her.
“The problem is you two! You’re too close! Too comfortable with each other! It doesn’t match the emotions of the upcoming scenes! You need to create some distance! So!”
“So?” Xin Yao prompted.
“So, from today onwards,” Director Gao clapped her hands together, her expression serious, “until we finish filming, you two are not allowed to see each other! Not even for a second!”
What kind of request was that?!
Xin Yao was stunned.
Xu Jingyu’s face darkened.
“I disagree.”
“Why?” Director Gao was surprised by her refusal. “You’ve never been like this before, Ms. Xu! You’re usually so aloof, you don’t even remember your co-stars’ names! I thought you would welcome this kind of request!”
Xu Jingyu closed her eyes, her patience wearing thin.
Don’t call me aloof in front of my girlfriend.
You’re asking me to stay away from my girlfriend for weeks, and you’re asking me why?
She opened her eyes, her voice cold.
“We’re professionals. We can manage our own emotions.”
Xin Yao, agreeing with her, nodded.
“No!” Director Gao’s voice rose slightly.
“You can’t! Especially you, Ms. Xu! The way you look at Xin Yao… it’s too soft, too loving! You can’t portray the pain, the heartbreak, the desperation of the character!”
“We’re almost finished! Just a few more weeks! Is it really that difficult to stay away from each other? Don’t you want to do a good job? Don’t you want to win awards?”
Her last words struck a chord with Xin Yao.
She did.
She wanted this film to be a success, more than anything.
While Xu Jingyu had advised her to prioritize her own happiness, she had promised the original owner, the woman whose life she was now living, that she would do her best.
She would carry the original Xin Yao’s hopes and dreams with her, all the way to the awards podium.
“Unseen Spring” had won numerous awards in her previous life, launching the careers of its two lead actresses. She couldn’t do any worse, could she?
Director Gao turned to Xu Jingyu.
“And Ms. Xu, even if you don’t care about your own performance, what about Xin Yao? You’ve already won countless awards. Doesn’t Xin Yao deserve a chance to shine? To add this to her resume?”
“You don’t want people to criticize her acting, do you? And she doesn’t want another round of online hate.”
Her words hit Xu Jingyu where it hurt.
Xu Jingyu didn’t care about anything, except for Xin Yao’s happiness.
She knew how much Xin Yao wanted this, how hard she had worked.
And she wanted the film to be a success, for Xin Yao’s sake.
Director Gao, her arguments surprisingly persuasive, had appealed to both their professional pride and their love for each other.
Seeing their hesitation, she grinned, not giving them a chance to protest, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Alright, team, separate them!”
Her tone was even more dramatic than Lu’s father’s in the movie.
But it was just a joke, of course.
No one would dare to physically separate Xu Jingyu from Xin Yao, not on set.
After a prolonged and slightly tearful farewell, and a promise to stay in touch via phone, they finally parted ways.
And Director Gao’s strategy, surprisingly, worked.
The first night after their separation, Xin Yao couldn’t sleep.
The thought of not seeing Xu Jingyu, of not being able to talk to her, for weeks, was unbearable.
She finally understood the pain and longing of the two women in the film.
Their suffering, in their time, must have been even greater.
But at least they could communicate through their phones.
Director Gao, however, was even more ruthless than they had anticipated.
While Xin Yao missed Xu Jingyu, Xu Jingyu’s longing was even more intense.
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