Category: You’re Not Allowed to Kiss Me Anymore! [Quick Transmigration]

Chapter 61 p2

It wasn’t Xin Yao’s birthday, but the original owner’s.

And coincidentally, on that day, the police had released their official report, confirming Li Xu’s crimes.

The internet exploded, the trending topics dominated by news of his arrest.

The online discussions, which had quieted down slightly, erupted again, a mix of outrage, schadenfreude, and disbelief.

Even Li Xu’s most devoted fans were now silent, their idol’s downfall a harsh reality.

He had become the first celebrity in the entertainment industry to be arrested for such a serious crime.

And in a quiet corner of the internet, another news report, almost overlooked amidst the Li Xu frenzy, announced the arrest of Xin Yao’s cousin and aunt for burglary and extortion.

Initially, everyone had been focused on Li Xu.

But by evening, the news of her relatives’ arrest had also trended online, sparking a new wave of discussions.

[Wait, isn’t that Xin Yao’s cousin and aunt?!]

[Yes! The ones who accused her of being ungrateful, of abandoning them after they raised her!]

[So many people attacked her online! She’s so unlucky! Always being targeted and slandered!]

[No wonder she tried to kill herself…]

[I’m so angry! She’s suffered so much!]

[I’m Xin Yao’s former neighbor. Our neighborhood has been buzzing with gossip lately!

But honestly, Xin Yao is the real victim here.

After her parents died, she lived with her aunt and uncle, who treated her terribly. She wore hand-me-down clothes, she was always being scolded, she never got any treats…

She lived in a constant state of fear and neglect.

And then her aunt accused her of not supporting them financially! It was ridiculous!

And now we know the truth. They were trying to extort her! And when she refused to give them money, they slandered her online!]

[I thought they were just following Li Xu’s instructions, but it was their own doing! They’re so evil!]

[I thought it was just extortion, but they actually abused her for years! And they still had the nerve to accuse her of being ungrateful!]

[I’m crying for Xin Yao!]

Her uncle, a quiet, reserved man, had always remained silent.

He had silently taken care of her after her parents’ death.

He had silently smoked his cigarettes as his wife abused and neglected her.

And now, with his wife and son arrested, he remained silent, a ghost in Xin Yao’s story.

Xin Yao was aware of the online discussions, but she didn’t pay much attention to them.

Because it was Xin Yao’s birthday, or rather, the original owner’s birthday, her official birthdate in this world.

And Xu Jingyu, having never been told otherwise, had planned a celebration.

They stayed in, a quiet, intimate dinner for two.

Xin Yao had ordered a large cake, and Xu Jingyu had cooked a delicious meal.

The atmosphere between them was slightly tense, Xu Jingyu’s possessiveness still a lingering presence, but their love was strong, their connection undeniable.

It wasn’t a fight, just Xu Jingyu being a bit… much.

As Xu Jingyu cooked, Xin Yao had come into the kitchen, her voice teasing.

“Don’t make too much! There’s only two of us! We’ll never finish it all!”

She had offered to help, but Xu Jingyu, smiling, had shooed her away, not wanting her to tire herself out.

Xin Yao had sat on the sofa, waiting to be fed.

And Xu Jingyu, always eager to please, had soon brought out the food, their dinner a quiet, intimate affair.

After dinner, they had opened the cake box.

As Xin Yao lit the candles and made a wish, then picked up her phone, ready to take a photo, a message notification popped up.

It wasn’t an unknown number. The original owner had saved the contact.

It was her uncle.

The message was short and simple.

[I’m sorry.]

Her uncle, a simple, uneducated man, didn’t know how to read or write, let alone use a smartphone. She wondered how he had even sent the message.

Xin Yao stared at the three words, her earlier cheerful mood fading, a wave of sadness washing over her.

She sat down, then, after a moment’s thought, for the first time since arriving in this world, she posted a message on social media.

The photo was of the birthday cake she had bought, its candles flickering in the soft light.

The caption was short and simple.

[Happy birthday, from 12 to 26. May your future be bright.]

Since moving in with her aunt and uncle at the age of 12, the original owner had never celebrated her birthday. No one had cared, no one had remembered.

So, when Li Xu had celebrated her birthday with her, she had been overjoyed.

But his affection had been a lie.

It wasn’t until she had joined Sister Wang’s company and met Chen Jia and the others that she had finally experienced a few proper birthdays.

But she had died so young.

If she had lived, today would have been her 26th birthday.

But she was gone.

So, Xin Yao had bought the cake, a silent celebration for the soul watching from the system space.

Her wish had been similar to her message online.

Bai Zhi, the original owner’s name.

Pure and innocent, like a gardenia blossom. May your future be bright.

It was Xin Yao’s first social media post since the scandal.

Her remaining fans, the new fans who had been drawn to her story, the curious onlookers, they all flocked to her page.

[OMG, Yaoyao posted!]

[We missed you, Yaoyao! You’ve been through so much!]

[How are you doing, Yaoyao?]

[I’m a new fan! I love you!]

[Happy birthday!]

The notifications kept popping up, a constant stream of messages.

Xin Yao looked at the comments, her eyes slightly sad.

They love me, but they’re also loving you.

See, Bai Zhi? You’re loved.

Yaoyao hasn’t smiled in a while.

Xu Jingyu, sitting beside her, watching as Xin Yao’s cheerful expression faded, replaced by a quiet sadness, thought.

She’s unhappy.

Xu Jingyu had made a silent vow to punish anyone who made Xin Yao unhappy.

And she had.

Li Xu, who had betrayed and hurt her, the Mo family, who had humiliated her, even the netizens who had slandered her online, she had dealt with them all.

She wanted Xin Yao to be happy, to smile every day.

But now…

The person who was making Xin Yao unhappy was Xu Jingyu herself.

Xin Yao was naturally cheerful and outgoing, her laughter infectious, her warmth a magnet for others.

Unlike Xu Jingyu, who was quiet and reserved, Xin Yao craved freedom, loved being surrounded by people, her spirit thriving in the warmth of human connection.

And Xu Jingyu had caged her, confined her to her apartment, isolating her from the world.

She had clipped the wings of a free bird, keeping it captive in her gilded cage.

And the once vibrant bird had lost its song.

So, Yaoyao was unhappy now, wasn’t she?

Why else would she look so sad on her birthday?

She had promised she would never make Xin Yao unhappy.

And yet, she was the source of her pain.

Because she loved her too much, she had been afraid of losing her, and she had tried to keep her safe, to protect her from the world.

But in doing so, she had dimmed her light.

Xu Jingyu looked at Xin Yao, her own eyes slightly sad.

“Have I hurt you too?”

“Huh?”

Xin Yao, still lost in thought, her heart aching for the original owner, looked up at Xu Jingyu, her confusion growing.

Then, she realized what Xu Jingyu was thinking.

She was about to say something, a mix of amusement and exasperation at Xu Jingyu’s misplaced guilt, when Xu Jingyu pulled her into a gentle embrace.

“I won’t let you be unhappy.”

So, if you’re not happy, I, your monster, will let you go.

But only a little.

You can’t leave me.

After that day, they seemed to have reconciled.

Li Xu was a distant memory, the issue of Pei Yu seemingly resolved, their relationship returning to its usual comfortable rhythm.

And Xu Jingyu’s actions, her possessiveness and her jealousy, had inadvertently helped Xin Yao move on from the emotional intensity of the film, her thoughts now focused on her girlfriend, on how to appease her, to reassure her.

But she was still an actress.

And thanks to the recent scandals, her popularity had soared, endorsements and offers pouring in.

She had to work, not just to fulfill her promise to Bai Zhi, to show her that she could succeed in this world, but also to earn enough points to stay.

Several months had passed since the filming of “Unseen Spring” wrapped, their days filled with laughter and passion, winter giving way to spring.

Xin Yao had accepted a major endorsement deal, requiring her to travel abroad for a fashion show.

Unfortunately, Xu Jingyu had work commitments in China and couldn’t accompany her.

Normally, Xu Jingyu would have cancelled everything to be with Xin Yao.

But this time, she hadn’t.

As if wanting to prove that she had changed, that she wouldn’t be so possessive and controlling anymore, she hadn’t insisted on going with Xin Yao.

Xin Yao had been surprised, even checking her forehead for a fever.

“Is this really Xu Jingyu? Are you possessed? I’ll be gone for two days! Can you handle it?”

Xu Jingyu, smiling, had pulled her into a hug.

“I don’t want you to be unhappy. Don’t worry. It’s just two days. I’ll be fine.”

It was a lie.

She wouldn’t be fine.

On the day Xin Yao left for her trip, six hours after their separation…

At the fashion show, Xin Yao sat perched precariously on a stool above a pool of water, watching the models strutting their stuff.

Yes, above a pool of water.

The fashion show was being held in a large swimming pool, the water slowly rising as the guests took their seats.

The runway was partially submerged, the audience seated on tall stools, their legs dangling above the water, no armrests, no safety net.

The designer, apparently, wanted to convey the theme of “water as a dangerous element.”

Xin Yao, however, lacking in artistic appreciation, simply thought: If I move even slightly, I’ll fall into the pool! Isn’t that dangerous enough?!

But the show itself was quite interesting, the designer’s creativity and vision evident in every garment. Xin Yao gradually became engrossed in the spectacle.

But a minor mishap had delayed the show, making it run over an hour longer than scheduled.

As the show neared its end, Chen Jia, her assistant, approached Xin Yao, her voice a hushed whisper.

“Jiejie Yaoyao, Ms. Xu called.”

Xin Yao, sitting near the edge of the pool, her feet dangling above the water, couldn’t easily leave her seat.

She reached for her phone.

“Just give me the phone. I’ll send her a message.”

Chen Jia nodded and handed her the phone.

But they had both underestimated the distance, and as they reached for each other, their hands fumbled, and the phone slipped from their grasp.

“Splash!”

Xin Yao’s phone, to their horror, landed in the pool.

Back in China, at 8 pm…

Xu Jingyu, sitting in her apartment, was making her fifteenth call to Xin Yao, each unanswered call fueling her anxiety.

As the call went to voicemail again, her eyes darkened.

They had agreed to talk at 7 pm, after the fashion show, and then video call later that evening, after Xin Yao returned to her hotel.

But it was already 8 pm, and Xin Yao hadn’t answered any of her calls.

Xu Jingyu’s mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of worry.

Did Yaoyao not want to talk to her? Was she annoyed with her? Or had something happened?

She wanted to call Chen Jia, Xin Yao’s assistant, but she didn’t have her number. Just as she was about to ask someone to find it for her, she heard Xue Ning and Meng Wanqing’s excited chatter from the living room.

They were watching a popular historical drama, its plot revolving around forced love and possessive alpha males.

Xu Jingyu, her brow furrowed, was about to tell them to leave when she heard the male lead’s booming voice.

“I will have her!”

“She’s mine, in life and in death! Even if I have to force her, I’ll keep her by my side, my captive bird!”

The female lead, furious, had slapped him.

“You beast!”

Xue Ning and Meng Wanqing had cheered.

“He’s such a jerk!”

“Did they get a happy ending?”

“I think so. She secretly loved him too.”

Xu Jingyu, who hadn’t been able to reach Xin Yao for over an hour, was suddenly silent.

Because she had done the same thing, keeping Xin Yao practically prisoner in her apartment.

She had asked, her voice a soft murmur, “What if… she didn’t love him? What if he forced her to stay with him, against her will?”

Meng Wanqing, always quick with a witty retort, had replied, “That’s even worse! She would hate him!”

Hate.

The word made Xu Jingyu pause, then she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “What if… they were in love? And he wanted to change, to let her go, to give her her freedom?”

“Would there still be hope?”

“But what if, after giving her her freedom, he couldn’t contact her?”

Meng Wanqing had clapped her hands together. “Then it’s obvious! She ran away! She dumped him!”

Dumped him!

The words, so simple yet so devastating, shattered the last vestiges of Xu Jingyu’s control, her eyes widening in panic, her body trembling, her fingers clutching her phone.

She stood up abruptly and walked towards the door, her movements swift and determined.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Xue Ning and Meng Wanqing exchanged glances.

Meanwhile, Xin Yao was still busy.

After her phone had met its watery demise, her assistant’s bag, containing her own phone, had also fallen into the pool.

So, as the fashion show ended, Xin Yao, eager to call Xu Jingyu, had been intercepted by the designer, who, impressed by her appearance, had enthusiastically invited her to model for them.

Unable to refuse, she had politely chatted with the designer, the conversation lasting much longer than she had anticipated.

By the time she returned to her hotel, it was late, and after finally managing to turn on her waterlogged phone, she saw the missed calls from Xu Jingyu.

She immediately called back, but the call went straight to voicemail.

She frowned, calling again.

And again.

On the fifth attempt, as the call went to voicemail again, the doorbell rang.

Who would be visiting her at this hour, especially in a foreign country? Was it Chen Jia?

Without thinking, she opened the door.

The hallway light illuminated the figure standing outside, and Xin Yao’s eyes widened in surprise, her body instinctively stepping forward.

It was Xu Jingyu, dressed in black, a black baseball cap pulled low over her eyes.

Her expression was impassive, her appearance seemingly calm, but her trembling fingers and her rapid breathing betrayed her anxiety.

And as she saw Xin Yao, her eyes reddened, tears threatening to spill.

Xin Yao, startled by her sudden appearance, her unexpected vulnerability, was about to ask what she was doing here when Xu Jingyu, stepping closer, her voice trembling slightly, her eyes fixed on Xin Yao’s face, said, “I don’t want to break up.”

Xin Yao blinked, confused. “Huh?”

Xu Jingyu’s eyes filled with tears, her voice choked with emotion.

“Yaoyao, I don’t want to break up.”

“As long as we’re together, I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll change. I’ll fix my flaws. Even if… even if you like someone else, even if I’m just a substitute, it’s okay. Just don’t… don’t break up with me.”

Xin Yao didn’t understand.

Why had she suddenly flown all the way here? Why was she so distraught? What had happened?

But she knew that this wasn’t the time for questions. What Xu Jingyu needed now was reassurance, a firm and unwavering declaration of love.

Xin Yao stepped forward and embraced her, her face buried in Xu Jingyu’s shoulder, her voice a soft murmur.

“Let’s get married, Xu Jingyu.”

“I’ve only ever loved you. And I’ll never leave you.”

“You don’t have to believe me now. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Chapter 61 p1

“Lick it.”

Xin Yao sat on the bathroom counter, her head slightly bowed, her long eyelashes fluttering like broken butterfly wings in the soft light.

She looked at Xu Jingyu’s finger, pale and slender like a piece of jade, held just inches from her lips. After a long moment of hesitation, she parted her lips, her tongue darting out to lick the offered digit.

Xu Jingyu’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening as she reached out with her other hand, her touch seemingly gentle, yet possessive, as she caressed the back of Xin Yao’s neck.

After a long moment, Xin Yao withdrew her tongue, her gaze falling on Xu Jingyu’s finger, now glistening with moisture, then quickly looked away, embarrassed.

She looked up at Xu Jingyu, her eyes soft and pleading, a hint of vulnerability in their depths.

Normally, Xu Jingyu wouldn’t be able to resist such a look, her desire for Xin Yao too strong to ignore.

But this time, she didn’t move.

She withdrew her hand, her fingers gently gripping Xin Yao’s waist, then turned her around so that she was facing the mirror.

Even on the verge of losing control, she still cared about Xin Yao’s comfort, her actions a testament to her love.

She turned up the heat in the bathroom, then took off her own clothes and placed them beneath Xin Yao, afraid she would be cold.

Xin Yao had been sitting on the counter with her back to the mirror, the wide surface more than enough space for her to recline.

Now, turned around by Xu Jingyu, she could see her own reflection in the mirror, and Xu Jingyu’s figure standing behind her, her presence a silent, looming threat.

It was the same mirror she looked into every day, the same familiar reflection, yet the scene, the two of them in the brightly lit bathroom, Xu Jingyu’s gaze intense and possessive, made Xin Yao’s heart race.

And then she realized what Xu Jingyu was planning, a wave of panic and shame washing over her as she tried to escape.

“Xu Jingyu,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “don’t do this.”

Xu Jingyu’s arms wrapped around Xin Yao, her embrace seemingly gentle, yet her body a cage, holding Xin Yao captive.

Her fingers, still glistening from Xin Yao’s touch, tilted Xin Yao’s chin up, forcing her to look at their reflection in the mirror, their bodies intertwined.

“Yaoyao, what did you just say?”

Xin Yao’s back pressed against Xu Jingyu’s chest, the warmth of her body, the steady beat of her heart, a stark contrast to the cold, hard surface of the counter beneath her, her lips trembling as she repeated the words.

“I love you.”

She knew that if Xu Jingyu had called out someone else’s name during an intimate moment, she would have been hurt and angry.

And even though Xu Jingyu was Pei Yu, she didn’t remember, and for now, she was a different person.

Xin Yao, filled with guilt and regret, wanting to appease Xu Jingyu, to calm her down, surrendered, biting her lip to stifle a cry, her body still.

Xu Jingyu’s fingers held her chin captive as she watched their reflection in the mirror, her own image slowly being consumed by Xu Jingyu’s passion, her lips reddening under Xu Jingyu’s touch, blooming like a flower.

The overwhelming shame, the humiliation of being watched, made her cry, her body trembling, her tears blurring her vision.

She felt like she was being lifted into the clouds, then plummeting back to earth, her senses overwhelmed.

Water splashed against the mirror, distorting their reflection, then trickled down the smooth surface, dripping onto the floor.

Xin Yao’s body went limp, her tears falling silently.

Even now, Xu Jingyu wouldn’t let her go.

She leaned closer, her face next to Xin Yao’s, forcing her to look at their reflection.

“Yaoyao, look. Who loves you now?”

Xin Yao, after a long moment, finally spoke, her voice choked with sobs.

“You.”

“Who am I?”

“Xu Jingyu.”

“Yes,” Xu Jingyu turned her head, capturing Xin Yao’s lips in a tender kiss, her voice a husky whisper. “Say my name. Tell me you love me, Yaoyao.”

Xin Yao, her voice trembling, her words forced from her lips, repeated, “I love you. I love you, Xu Jingyu.”

Was she lying?

Xu Jingyu didn’t know. She couldn’t tell.

But it didn’t matter.

Even if it was a lie, she would take it.

Even if she had to force it, she would keep Xin Yao by her side.

She kissed Xin Yao softly, her eyes filled with a desperate, possessive love.

“I love you too.”

It wasn’t just a casual phrase. It was the truth, torn from her heart.

Xin Yao had always known about Xu Jingyu’s possessive nature, her tendency towards obsessive behavior, the darkness lurking beneath her calm exterior.

And tonight, that darkness had surfaced, her control slipping.

From the moment she had entered the bathroom, seeing Xin Yao’s reaction, hearing her cry out Pei Yu’s name, she had been on the verge of losing control.

Xin Yao hadn’t known how to explain.

She couldn’t reveal the existence of the system, or her connection to the original owner. And claiming to be Pei Yu from a past life would only make Xu Jingyu think she was crazy.

So, she had frozen, her lips parting, but no words coming out.

Xu Jingyu, standing there, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face, a flicker of sadness in her eyes, had asked, “Yaoyao, why aren’t you saying anything? Even a lie would be better than this silence.”

Xin Yao, seeing the pain in Xu Jingyu’s eyes, regretted her careless words, regretted not having bought the premium version of the illusion, which would have spared her this heartache.

“I…” she murmured, “I just… said the wrong name.”

It was the truth. She hadn’t been lying.

Pei.

Xu.

Pei Yu.

Xu Jingyu.

Two syllables, three syllables. A simple slip of the tongue?

Xu Jingyu looked at her, then chuckled softly.

“Okay.”

She would believe her.

“Then,” she continued after a moment, “are we that similar? Do we look alike? Or are our personalities similar? Or is it just because our names both have the character ‘Yu’?”

Am I just a substitute for Pei Yu?

From the moment they had met, during the audition for “Unseen Spring,” Xu Jingyu had sensed a distance in Xin Yao’s eyes, as if she were looking at someone else.

And now, it seemed her intuition had been correct.

Xin Yao, during their scenes together, had been thinking of Pei Yu, her attention divided, her gaze not truly focused on Xu Jingyu.

That’s why she hadn’t recognized her immediately.

And now, the realization, the sudden awareness of Xin Yao’s divided affections, was a thorn in Xu Jingyu’s heart.

Xin Yao, seeing the pain in her eyes, realizing that Xu Jingyu thought she was a replacement for Pei Yu, was horrified.

“That’s not true!” she exclaimed, eager to correct the misunderstanding.

But she didn’t know where to begin, and there wasn’t time for a long explanation.

So, she looked into Xu Jingyu’s eyes, her voice firm and unwavering.

“I love you.”

“I’ve only ever loved you. No one else.”

Her words seemed to calm Xu Jingyu slightly, her gaze softening as she stepped closer.

“Then prove it to me, Yaoyao.”

Xin Yao, of course, wouldn’t refuse.

“How?”

Xu Jingyu’s eyes darkened, her fingertip tracing Xin Yao’s lips.

“Lick it, Yaoyao.”

“Then make love to me here, and tell me you love me.”

And so, Xin Yao, her body a canvas for Xu Jingyu’s desires, her voice a soft whisper in the darkness, confessed her love, her words both a truth and a lie, a desperate attempt to appease the woman she loved, the woman who was slowly losing herself to her own demons.

The next day, she could barely walk.

And their lovemaking hadn’t resolved the underlying issue. In fact, Xu Jingyu’s behavior had become even more erratic, her insecurity growing with each passing day.

The woman who had always craved security, now feeling the sting of Xin Yao’s past love, her mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions, was on the verge of a breakdown.

Like a character in a drama, Xu Jingyu was about to turn dark.

Xin Yao had tried to explain, saying that she had been crying over Li Xu’s photo because she had been feeling sorry for herself, that calling out Pei Yu’s name had been a simple slip of the tongue.

She had repeatedly reassured Xu Jingyu of her love, her words sincere and heartfelt.

And Xu Jingyu believed her.

After all, Xin Yao had no reason to lie. If she didn’t love her, she would simply leave.

In their relationship, Xu Jingyu was the one who couldn’t let go.

But belief and security were two different things.

Xu Jingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that Xin Yao would eventually leave her, that one day, she would grow tired of her, of her cold demeanor and her quiet ways, and find someone else.

And who was this Pei Yu?

Was she truly just a substitute? Did they really look alike? Did Xin Yao sometimes see Pei Yu in her, her gaze a fleeting memory of a past love?

Xin Yao had never answered these questions directly.

And her silence was a thorn in Xu Jingyu’s heart, driving her further into the darkness.

She wanted to keep Xin Yao by her side, to possess her completely, her actions becoming increasingly possessive, even obsessive.

She followed Xin Yao everywhere, her gaze never wavering, her touch a constant reminder of her presence.

One morning, Xin Yao, awakened by a sudden stomachache, had rushed to the bathroom.

Xu Jingyu, a light sleeper, had woken up and instinctively turned to look for Xin Yao, her heart sinking as she saw the empty space beside her, the bed cold and empty.

She had jumped out of bed, her eyes wide with panic, and had run to the living room, the rain outside darkening the already dimly lit room.

She hadn’t seen Xin Yao.

The world had fallen silent, as if Xin Yao had been erased from her life, her absence a gaping void.

And Xu Jingyu’s heart, like the falling rain, had turned cold, her mind a blur of confused thoughts, her gaze unfocused, her eyes almost lifeless.

Xin Yao, emerging from the bathroom, had seen Xu Jingyu standing there, barefoot and motionless, her expression blank, her eyes unseeing, and had been startled by her appearance.

She had rushed towards her.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Xu Jingyu’s eyes had flickered, her gaze focusing on Xin Yao’s face, her expression slowly returning to normal as she saw that Xin Yao had returned.

She had pulled Xin Yao into a tight embrace, her body trembling.

The incident seemed to have traumatized her.

She had become even more possessive, her vigilance constant, her gaze never leaving Xin Yao’s face. And Xin Yao had noticed that she seemed afraid to sleep.

One morning, Xin Yao had woken up to find Xu Jingyu looking pale and exhausted, her eyes bloodshot.

That night, she had pretended to sleep, her mind alert.

She had woken up in the middle of the night and, turning to look at Xu Jingyu, had been startled to find her wide awake, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face.

She had been watching her sleep.

Xin Yao, realizing she had to talk to her, had sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, her voice firm.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Xu Jingyu, snuggling closer, her head resting on Xin Yao’s stomach, her arms wrapping around her waist, had replied, “I was watching you.”

Her answer had been so matter-of-fact!

“Why are you watching me sleep?”

Xu Jingyu had been silent for a moment, then Xin Yao, understanding her anxieties, had gently stroked her hair, her voice soft and reassuring.

“I’m not going to leave you. I’ll always be here, with you.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Then,” Xu Jingyu had looked up at her, her eyes searching, “who is Pei Yu?”

Xin Yao had been speechless.

So, the jealous movie queen hadn’t forgotten.

She had caressed Xu Jingyu’s face, her voice a playful tease.

“Pei Yu? She’s an idiot.”

Not as smart as me.

“And very possessive.”

Her personality isn’t as good as mine.

“And generally annoying.”

So, Yaoyao disliked her!

Xu Jingyu’s eyes had lit up. “Do you like her?”

Seeing her easily appeased, Xin Yao had smiled, turning off the light and snuggling closer to Xu Jingyu, finding a comfortable position in her arms.

“I only like you.”

See? Yaoyao only likes me. What chance does Pei Yu have?

Having successfully banished Pei Yu to the realm of disliked people, Xu Jingyu’s mood had improved, her anxiety easing slightly.

But only slightly.

She was still clinging to Xin Yao, her possessiveness a constant presence, her fear of losing her a dark cloud that followed her everywhere.

For almost two weeks, she had kept Xin Yao practically prisoner in her apartment, forbidding her from leaving, from seeing other people.

Her behavior had become increasingly obsessive and controlling, her actions bordering on paranoia.

Until one day, things changed.

Chapter 60 p2

The illusion was almost over, and Xin Yao, still holding Li Xu’s photo, was about to speak when a tear rolled down her cheek.

She felt a sudden wave of sadness, but she knew it wasn’t her own.

Those who paid with their souls to make a wish, their attachments were strong, their emotions raw and unfiltered.

To better serve these clients, the Bright World allowed a fragment of their consciousness to accompany the host during their missions, allowing them to witness the events unfolding.

It was the original owner who was crying now, her sadness, her grief, transmitted through that fragment of her soul, making Xin Yao’s own tears flow.

She was crying for her past suffering, for the years of abuse and neglect, for Li Xu’s belated apology, an apology she had waited a lifetime for.

She had suffered so much, her life a constant struggle, everyone taking from her, no one offering comfort or kindness, let alone an apology.

Until Xin Yao.

Seeing Xin Yao’s strength, her determination, her unwavering commitment to fulfilling her wish, she had realized what she had missed, the life she could have had.

And she had finally realized that she owed herself an apology.

I’m sorry, she thought. I’m sorry for letting you suffer so much.

But there were no second chances, no do-overs. She had her revenge now, and that was enough.

She wouldn’t dwell on the past. She would remember this, and in her next life, she would live for herself.

If she had a next life. If she remembered.

Sensing the original owner’s gradual acceptance, her release from the pain of the past, Xin Yao didn’t move, letting her tears flow freely, her silent grief a comfort to the other soul.

Let it go.

And remember, in your next life, to love yourself, to live for yourself.

Xin Yao, her heart filled with a genuine happiness for the original owner’s newfound peace, had been so engrossed in her emotions that she had forgotten where she was.

She was sitting on the bathroom sink, in the middle of the night, staring at a photo of Li Xu, her face streaked with tears.

And just then…

The bathroom door creaked open.

The bright light spilled out into the hallway, illuminating Xu Jingyu, standing there in her nightgown, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s tearful face, the photo of Li Xu clutched in her hand.

Xu Jingyu’s eyes flickered like candle flames, her mind racing.

She had been a light sleeper, and she had been awake when Xin Yao got out of bed.

Assuming she was just using the restroom, she hadn’t disturbed her.

And Xin Yao had even tucked her in, a sweet gesture that had warmed Xu Jingyu’s heart.

But Xin Yao had been gone for a long time, and Xu Jingyu, worried, had come to check on her.

She hadn’t expected to find her like this, crying over a photo of her ex-boyfriend, in the middle of the night.

Xu Jingyu was insecure.

Especially when it came to Xin Yao.

She had a nagging feeling that Xin Yao was like the wind, a fleeting presence she couldn’t hold onto, that one day, she would leave, just as she had in a distant, forgotten past.

And everyone knew how much Xin Yao had loved Li Xu, her six-year relationship a testament to her devotion, her sacrifices for him countless.

Even Xue Ning had expressed her surprise, her disbelief that Xin Yao could have loved such a man.

Didn’t Xu Jingyu care?

She had never asked about Xin Yao’s past relationship with Li Xu.

She hadn’t asked about the scar on her wrist.

She hadn’t asked about the engagement party.

Wasn’t she curious?

No.

She cared, deeply.

She was jealous, possessive, wanting to erase Li Xu from Xin Yao’s life, from her memories, especially after what he had done to her.

But she hadn’t asked.

Because she had been afraid.

Afraid that Xin Yao still had feelings for him.

After all, it had only been a couple of months since their breakup, and Xin Yao had started dating Xu Jingyu almost immediately.

Could she really forget someone she had loved so deeply, so quickly?

Six years with Li Xu, and just a few months with her, not even long enough to film a movie.

Did Xin Yao truly like her?

It wasn’t Xin Yao’s fault. It was Xu Jingyu’s own insecurity, her fear of losing Xin Yao, her love so intense that it made her cautious, her touch hesitant.

She had never asked, had been afraid to ask.

Afraid of hearing the words she dreaded most: I don’t like you.

And then what? Would Xin Yao leave her?

And if she did, could Xu Jingyu let her go?

Impossible.

So, she had kept her silence, her anxieties bottled up, the sight of the scar on Xin Yao’s wrist a constant reminder of her pain, a wound that refused to heal.

She had wanted to marry Xin Yao, to bind her to her, no matter the cost, no matter the method.

And now, seeing Xin Yao crying over Li Xu’s photo, her worst fears had been realized.

Xin Yao didn’t love her.

Xin Yao was going to leave her.

Xin Yao, startled by Xu Jingyu’s sudden appearance, realized how incriminating the scene looked, like she was mourning her ex-boyfriend.

And judging by Xu Jingyu’s expression, she had clearly misunderstood!

Xin Yao quickly put away her phone, wiping her tears, and tried to explain.

“It’s not what you think…”

But Xu Jingyu didn’t listen, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, the last thread of her control snapping.

She walked towards Xin Yao, her movements slow and deliberate, her presence a dark cloud, her gaze intense and unreadable.

Xin Yao couldn’t decipher her expression, but she felt a flicker of fear.

Xu Jingyu’s gaze lingered on Xin Yao’s face for a moment, then she gently wiped away her tears, her touch surprisingly tender, before capturing her lips in a fierce, almost brutal kiss.

It was different from her usual passionate kisses, this one colder, harder, more desperate.

It was a kiss filled with possessiveness, with a desperate, almost frantic love, like a thorny vine wrapping around Xin Yao, refusing to let her go.

Like a cage, its bars closing around her, trapping her forever.

And yet, her hands, cupping Xin Yao’s face, were trembling.

Xin Yao understood her emotions.

She knew her lover was different, her initial inability to understand love now replaced by a fierce, almost overwhelming devotion, her jealousy and possessiveness a constant reminder of her insecurity.

Seeing Xin Yao crying over another man’s photo, it was understandable that she would be upset.

Xin Yao had wanted to wait, to let Xu Jingyu vent her emotions, then explain.

But Xu Jingyu’s kiss deepened, her passion escalating, her desire for Xin Yao a consuming fire, unlike her usual tenderness, her touch now hard and demanding, as if wanting to brand Xin Yao with her mark, to claim her as her own.

And then, before Xin Yao could even protest, Xu Jingyu’s hand was between her legs, her touch insistent, her body pressing against Xin Yao’s.

How could she do this now, before they had even talked?

But Xu Jingyu, lost in her passion, her desire for Xin Yao overwhelming her, didn’t wait for an answer, her body moving against Xin Yao’s.

Xin Yao almost cried out, her legs weakening, her eyes, filled with tears, looking up at Xu Jingyu’s face, inches from hers.

Xu Jingyu’s eyes, in the bright light, were terrifying, their dark depths swirling with a dangerous intensity, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

For a moment, Xin Yao was afraid.

She saw a flash of the beast she had known in her previous life, Pei Yu, her eyes, during her possessive phase, narrowing into reptilian slits, her gaze cold and predatory.

Pei Yu’s eyes and Xu Jingyu’s were different, yet they evoked the same primal fear.

And both of them, in those moments, had been lost to their instincts, their rationality consumed by their desires.

And Xu Jingyu, in this life, was even more possessive than Pei Yu had ever been.

Xin Yao wanted to explain, to push her away, to calm her down, to resolve the misunderstanding.

“Stop… listen to me…”

But Xu Jingyu’s lips silenced her, her kiss deepening.

Xin Yao, finally losing her patience, pushed her away, her voice sharp.

“Pei Yu, are you crazy?!”

Her words, echoing through the quiet room, made Xu Jingyu freeze.

She stood there, motionless, for a long moment.

Then, slowly, she lowered her gaze, her eyes, dark and unreadable, fixed on Xin Yao’s face, her voice a husky whisper.

“Yaoyao, who is Pei Yu?”

Xin Yao froze.

Oh my god!

Had she just said Pei Yu’s name?!

She had been thinking about Pei Yu!

As her heart pounded in her chest, Xu Jingyu repeated the question, her voice soft yet insistent.

“Who is Pei Yu?”

Xin Yao looked into Xu Jingyu’s dark eyes, her throat tightening as she swallowed nervously.

Well, this was awkward.

It seemed her little white lie had backfired spectacularly.

This wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding that could be resolved with a few apologies and a passionate embrace.

Xu Jingyu looked like she was about to lose it.

Chapter 60 p1

Xin Yao sat on the bed, fidgeting, her intertwined fingers nervously tracing the contours of her stomach. She paced back and forth in front of the bed, her anxiety and anticipation growing.

Then, the door to the walk-in closet creaked open.

Xin Yao turned her head, her gaze instantly captivated by the figure emerging from the shadows.

Xu Jingyu, dressed in black, stood in the doorway.

Calling it a dress was perhaps an exaggeration. The sheer fabric, strategically placed, concealed just enough, yet revealed even more, the interplay of light and shadow a tantalizing tease.

Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the black fabric, the visual impact striking.

And to further heighten the effect, she wore a black choker and matching anklets, their simple elegance amplifying the already sensual atmosphere.

Xin Yao, her heart pounding, her cheeks flushed, her breath catching in her throat, could barely tear her gaze away.

Seeing her reaction, Xu Jingyu smiled, walking towards her and leaning closer, her lips brushing against Xin Yao’s ear, her voice a husky whisper.

“Want to touch my tail?”

She even had a tail!

Xin Yao’s hand, as if drawn by an invisible force, reached out and gently stroked the fluffy black fox tail dangling between Xu Jingyu’s legs.

The soft fur, smooth and silky beneath her fingertips, was like a caress, a forbidden touch that made her heart race.

She knew it was just a costume, a prop, yet in that moment, it felt strangely real, as if she were touching Xu Jingyu’s own tail, her cheeks burning even brighter.

Xu Jingyu, capturing Xin Yao’s hand before she could pull it away, held it against her cheek, nuzzling against it, her voice a soft murmur.

“Don’t be shy. I’m yours. You can do anything you want to me.”

She paused, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

Then, leaning closer, her lips brushing against Xin Yao’s ear, she whispered, “Master.”

The word, spoken in her cool, slightly husky voice, sent shivers down Xin Yao’s spine, her body flushing with a sudden heat, her mind momentarily blank.

In that moment, she would have agreed to anything, even being tied up, if Xu Jingyu had asked.

After a long moment, Xin Yao, her heart still racing, her fingers slightly numb, gently caressed Xu Jingyu’s cheek.

“I have high standards. If you want to be my little fox, you’ll have to work hard to please me.”

Xin Yao’s words were mostly bravado.

She was good at talking a big game, but when it came to the actual act, she would inevitably try to escape, her tears and pleas a familiar refrain.

But the cunning fox, taking her words literally, seemed determined to fulfill her “master’s” every whim.

The first half of their encounter was gentle and tender, the fox’s touch light and playful, her lips exploring Xin Yao’s skin with a delicate precision, her movements slow and deliberate, catering to Xin Yao’s preference for a more languid pace.

But then, something shifted, perhaps when the red rope appeared, its vibrant color a stark contrast against Xin Yao’s pale skin, its tight knots binding her wrists, her body now a captive, her beautiful eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire, her soft pleas echoing through the room.

Xu Jingyu’s fingers traced the red rope against Xin Yao’s skin, her gaze intense, her excitement growing with each touch.

And then, she lost control, her passion unrestrained.

Xin Yao, unable to bear it any longer, her body weak and trembling, pushed against Xu Jingyu, her voice a mix of tears and soft moans.

“Stop… stop it…”

“You’re still…”

“Mmm, I’m your master! Why aren’t you listening to me?!”

Xu Jingyu leaned down and kissed her, her lips silencing Xin Yao’s protests, then, her voice a husky whisper, her eyes sparkling with amusement, she said, “I’m simply fulfilling my master’s wishes.”

“Yaoyao said I had to please her, so I’m trying my best. Even if my master’s words are insincere, I can’t stop.”

Seducing her wasn’t enough. She even had to be a smartass!

Xin Yao was exasperated, yet also aroused, her body betraying her, her resistance crumbling.

And so, in the two weeks since Xin Yao had moved in, they had spent most of their time exploring the contents of Xu Jingyu’s extensive lingerie collection, their nights filled with passion and laughter, Xin Yao’s body a canvas for Xu Jingyu’s unrestrained desires, the love bites fading only to be replaced by new ones, a constant cycle of pleasure and pain.

Xin Yao had become almost afraid of Xu Jingyu, avoiding her whenever she could.

Today, however, she hadn’t been able to escape, Xu Jingyu capturing her as she tried to flee the bed, pulling her back into her embrace, her touch both gentle and firm.

Xin Yao, frustrated, had retaliated by biting Xu Jingyu’s shoulder, leaving a row of small, pink marks on her skin.

Xu Jingyu hadn’t even flinched, her eyes shining with a strange delight, seemingly enjoying the pain.

Finally, exhausted, Xin Yao had fallen asleep.

But just a few hours later, she had been jolted awake by a sudden, urgent voice in her mind, like a stone thrown into a still pond, the ripples spreading outwards, disturbing the peaceful surface.

Her eyes snapped open, her gaze fixed on the darkness, her mind slowly regaining its clarity, realizing it was the system calling her.

Liu Nuan Nuan was usually reliable, rarely interrupting her unless it was important. A call in the middle of the night meant something was wrong.

Xin Yao frowned slightly. “What is it?”

Liu Nuan Nuan scoffed.

[That scumbag Li Xu is trying to escape.]

“Huh?”

[Oh, right, you don’t know.]

Liu Nuan Nuan smacked herself on the head, then quickly explained how Xu Jingyu, wanting to avenge Xin Yao, had been targeting the Mo family, and how Li Xu, desperate for a powerful patron, had ended up in the clutches of Dan Yan, a ruthless sadist.

Li Xu’s life under Dan Yan’s control had been a living hell, his every move restricted, forced to crawl and kneel, his body a constant reminder of his subservience.

He had looked up at Dan Yan, sitting on the sofa, her gaze cold and condescending, and had realized, with a chilling certainty, that she wasn’t joking. She truly saw him as a dog, not a human being.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he had gradually realized that she had no intention of helping him.

One day, having finally gathered the courage to ask her about it, Dan Yan had laughed, her laughter loud and mocking, then, her amusement fading, she had looked at him with a mixture of contempt and pity.

“Doggy, are you joking? You tried to kill someone! Who would be foolish enough to help you? I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

Damn it!

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

She had been playing him all along! She had never intended to help him!

He had managed to avoid the police for a while, thanks to his connections, but his time was running out. They would be coming for him soon.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to leave.

So, that night, he had packed his bags, ready to flee.

Xin Yao, listening to the system’s report, turned to look at Xu Jingyu’s sleeping face, her heart filled with a warmth and gratitude she hadn’t expected. Xu Jingyu hadn’t even told her, her actions a silent expression of her love and protectiveness.

Then, a flicker of amusement touched her eyes. Li Xu, a disgusting creature until the very end.

“What’s the situation now?”

[He’s almost finished packing.]

Xin Yao looked at Xu Jingyu, her sleeping face peaceful and serene, and gently tucked the blanket around her before getting out of bed and going to the bathroom.

She turned on the light, the bright fluorescent light illuminating the small space.

She paced back and forth, thinking, then finally sat down on the edge of the sink, the cool marble a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bed.

She opened the system shop, her finger scrolling through the items.

While Li Xu might not be able to escape, it would be better if he couldn’t even try.

She would give him a parting gift, a final punishment for his crimes against the original owner.

After searching for a while, she found the perfect item.

[Illusion (30 points)]

[Description: Creates a customized illusion for the target.]

[Requirements: Must maintain eye contact with the target’s image during activation for precise targeting.]

[Recommendation: Upgrade to the premium version (50 points) for automatic targeting, no eye contact required.]

So, they were advertising now?

50 points?! They were robbing her!

She had earned only 300 points for an entire lifetime in the previous world! And staying in that world would have cost only 100 points!

Who would pay for the premium version? Did they think she was stupid?

As for maintaining eye contact with the target’s image, that was easy. A quick online search revealed hundreds of photos of the scumbag.

She grabbed her phone, selected a random photo of Li Xu, and held it up, a cold smile playing on her lips.

Then, she clicked “use.”

At that very moment, thousands of miles away, Li Xu, having finished packing, walked towards the door.

As his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt a sudden chill, as if he had been plunged into icy water, the world around him falling silent.

He shivered, his body trembling, his hair standing on end.

A sense of unease, a primal fear, gripped him, and he slowly turned his head, his gaze fixed on the figure standing behind him.

His eyes widened in horror, a scream trapped in his throat, his legs giving way beneath him.

Standing there, in a bloodstained white dress, her long black hair matted and tangled, half her face caved in, was the ghost of Xin Yao.

And as he stared at her, she lifted her head, her eyes, or rather, the empty sockets where her eyes had been, fixed on his face, a chilling smile playing on her lips.

“Li Xu, why did you kill me?”

Li Xu, terrified, his eyes bloodshot, his body trembling uncontrollably, turned to flee.

But as he turned, he almost fainted.

Standing behind him was Ying Xi, her body also covered in blood, her broken ribs protruding from her skin, her appearance gruesome.

She was smiling, holding a bloody mass in her outstretched hand.

“Look, it’s our child.”

Li Xu’s legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor, screaming, his body scrambling backwards, his hands pushing against the floor, trying to escape.

“Who… who are you?! Are you ghosts?! What do you want?!”

Trapped in the illusion, his memories fragmented and distorted, he saw flashes of his past life, his crimes now a terrifying reality.

He forgot about Xin Yao, his mind fixated on the original owner’s death.

His eyes widened in horror, his voice a hoarse scream.

“Help! Ghosts! There are ghosts!”

His screams only seemed to excite the two bloody figures, who continued to approach him, their voices echoing in his ears.

“Why did you kill me? I wanted to live!”

“Why did you kill me? I was carrying your child! It hurt so much! That night, in the alley, it was so cold! And the blows, they hurt so much!”

“Why did you kill me?”

“Why did you kill me?”

“No, no, there are no ghosts!” Li Xu scrambled backwards, his voice filled with a desperate denial. “You’re just pretending!”

He grabbed a nearby vase and, in a fit of panic, threw it at the approaching figures.

But the vase passed through them, as if they were made of air, shattering on the floor behind them.

The sound, the shattering of glass, the realization that they were indeed ghosts, made Li Xu’s blood run cold.

The two women laughed, their laughter shrill and mocking, echoing through the night as they continued to approach him.

“So, an eye for an eye, a life for a life. We’ve come for you, Li Xu. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

Their laughter, the oppressive atmosphere, the terror that gripped his heart, it was all too much for him to bear.

A cold, sharp fingernail traced his eyelid.

Before he even felt the pain, his mind snapped, his body trembling uncontrollably, his bladder emptying, a warm wetness spreading through his pants.

“Don’t kill me! Please! I’m sorry! It was all my fault! I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“Please spare me! Don’t kill me!”

The man who had spent his entire life climbing, clawing his way to the top, now groveled at their feet, his fear greater than his pride.

As if his pleas weren’t enough, he scrambled to his feet and kowtowed, his forehead banging against the floor.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t kill me!”

His pathetic display of groveling only earned him a cold stare from the two ghostly figures.

“Then confess your crimes.”

Ten minutes later, Li Xu turned himself in.

The police, alerted by his frantic phone call, arrived quickly, and Li Xu, his voice choked with sobs, rushed towards them, his words a jumbled confession.

“I did it! It was all me! I wanted to kill them!”

He could still see them, the two ghostly figures, following him, their gazes fixed on his back.

Meanwhile, Xin Yao, sitting on the bathroom sink, listening to the dog system’s live report, smiled coldly.

“Do you think this illusion could be permanent? Let him live like this forever.”

[The illusion only lasts for an hour. But since you’re staying in this world, you can always use it again, whenever you want. Give him a little taste of hell.]

Xin Yao chuckled. “You’re so evil.”

[Thank you. I try.]

Chapter 59 p2

Xin Yao, testing her theory, dipped a piece of tripe in the spicy broth and placed it in Xu Jingyu’s bowl.

Xu Jingyu looked up, surprised by the gesture, Xin Yao rarely being so openly affectionate in public.

She didn’t say anything, simply eating the tripe.

So, she wasn’t completely averse to other ingredients.

Xin Yao gave her some goose intestines and beef rolls, and Xu Jingyu ate them obediently, her movements slow and deliberate, her gaze fixed on her bowl.

She looked like a well-behaved child, eating whatever her girlfriend gave her.

Xin Yao, watching her, couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.”

“Liar. You haven’t even touched the spicy broth. You clearly don’t like it.”

“Food is food,” Xu Jingyu set down her chopsticks, her voice calm. “I don’t have any particular preferences. But I prefer lighter flavors, and organ meats are a bit… strange. So I haven’t tried them before.”

Xin Yao blinked. “Then why didn’t you refuse when I gave them to you?”

Xu Jingyu looked at her, her silence a clear answer: I wouldn’t refuse anything you gave me.

Then, she spoke, her voice soft.

“Because you gave it to me, I do like it.”

Her words made Xin Yao’s heart flutter, but she still teased her gently.

“That’s so cheesy.”

As they whispered to each other, the wrap party in full swing, the atmosphere lively and cheerful, the entrance curtain suddenly flew open, a blast of cold air sweeping through the tent.

The people sitting near the entrance turned around, startled, then, recognizing the newcomer, exclaimed, “Isn’t that Meng Wanqing from the zombie movie next door? What happened to her face?!”

Meng Wanqing, her face covered in gruesome special effects makeup, ran towards Xin Yao, her voice a dramatic wail.

“Yaoyao! I just heard you wrapped! I’m going to be so bored without you! Yaoyao, how will I live without you?!”

“I’m going to miss you so much!”

She ran towards Xin Yao, her arms outstretched, about to embrace her.

But just as she reached them, about to jump, Xu Jingyu’s cold stare stopped her in her tracks.

Her dramatic entrance, however, had struck a chord with someone at their table.

Director Gao, slightly drunk, her face flushed, suddenly burst into tears, her voice echoing through the tent.

“I’m going to miss you too!”

Her sudden outburst startled the people around her, her assistant, embarrassed by her behavior, tugging at her sleeve.

But Director Gao, fueled by the alcohol, ignored her, standing up unsteadily.

“Xu Jingyu! I have to say something! You’re so disobedient! You’ve been such a pain to work with!”

Xu Jingyu: “Oh.”

Her nonchalant response almost made Director Gao choke. She turned to Xin Yao, her voice filled with mock despair.

“Yaoyao is so much nicer! Yaoyao, hug me! We have to work together again!”

She lunged towards Xin Yao, her arms outstretched.

Xin Yao, dodging her embrace, jumped up and ran, Director Gao almost colliding with Xu Jingyu, who, her face cold and impassive, grabbed her by the collar and tossed her aside.

Director Gao, still crying, grabbed a random person and hugged them.

“I’m going to miss you so much! It’s so hard to say goodbye… wait, who are you?! Ugh!”

The person she had grabbed, of course, was Meng Wanqing, still in her zombie makeup.

Meng Wanqing, unable to hug Xin Yao, had decided to settle for a random hug, a gesture of solidarity, a farewell embrace. But Director Gao, at the sight of her gruesome makeup, had recoiled in disgust, vomiting on her.

Meng Wanqing, furious, grabbed her by the collar, lifting her up.

“What the hell was that for?! I haven’t even settled the score for those photos you gave Xue Ning! Are you sober enough to fight?!”

“Ugh!”

“I’m going to kill you!”

As they bickered, their voices rising, Director Gao’s initial outburst of emotion seemed to have triggered a chain reaction.

People started crying, hugging each other, their voices filled with a bittersweet nostalgia.

The familiar set, the stone pathways they had walked countless times, the early morning sunrises, it was all coming to an end.

Xin Yao, standing there in the warm tent, watching as Director Gao and Meng Wanqing, now embracing and crying, their earlier animosity forgotten, her gaze sweeping across the faces of the crew, their expressions a mix of sadness and gratitude, then finally settling on Xu Jingyu, who stood beside her, her gaze soft and warm, felt a lump forming in her throat.

Goodbye.

Unseen Spring.

See you next winter.

Lu Duanjing.

Completing a project, especially one that had demanded so much time and effort, always left a sense of emptiness.

But for Xin Yao, the feeling was fleeting.

Because after filming wrapped, and she moved out of her old apartment, she moved into Xu Jingyu’s home, their cohabitation a joyous celebration of their love.

Having just finished filming such an emotionally charged movie, she needed time to recover, to separate herself from her character, to decompress.

So, she focused on unpacking, on settling into her new home, the mundane tasks a welcome distraction.

She even insisted on unpacking her own belongings, not wanting Xu Jingyu’s help.

Xu Jingyu’s walk-in closet, like the rest of her apartment, was minimalist and impersonal, its color scheme limited to black, white, and gray.

Xin Yao hung her colorful clothes, her dresses and coats a vibrant splash of color against the backdrop of Xu Jingyu’s monochrome wardrobe, her belongings taking up half the closet space.

The simple act felt strangely intimate, a symbolic merging of their lives.

A feeling of happiness, mingled with a touch of nervousness, filled her heart.

She smiled, eager to see Xu Jingyu, but as she walked past a nearby cabinet, her sleeve caught on the handle, and as she tugged at it, the cabinet door swung open.

The contents of the cabinet, illuminated by the soft light, made her pause, her eyes widening in surprise.

She hadn’t expected anything unusual. It was just a cabinet, presumably filled with clothes.

But a single glance was enough to make her blush, her gaze returning to the objects inside, her fingers clutching the edge of the cabinet door.

The cabinet was filled with lingerie, all sorts of colors and styles, their delicate lace and sheer fabrics a stark contrast to Xu Jingyu’s usual conservative attire.

Xin Yao quickly closed the door, her face burning, her heart pounding.

Then, remembering something, she opened the other cabinets, one after another.

Six cabinets, four of which were filled with lingerie.

Xu Jingyu, you animal!

Xin Yao grabbed a random piece of clothing from the closet and stormed out of the room.

Xu Jingyu was sitting on the sofa in the living room, her legs crossed elegantly, a book in her hand, the picture of sophistication and refinement.

The sight only fueled Xin Yao’s anger, and she marched over to Xu Jingyu and threw the garment onto her book.

In her haste, she hadn’t even seen what she had grabbed. Now, as it landed on Xu Jingyu’s lap, she saw that it was a pair of white panties, their thin, lacy fabric barely there, a fluffy bunny tail attached to the back.

And the cabinets were filled with similar items.

Xin Yao’s face burned even brighter, her voice a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Ms. Xu, care to explain?”

Xu Jingyu looked down at the panties in her lap, her fingers gently stroking the fluffy tail, then looked up at Xin Yao, her dark eyes questioning.

“Don’t you like them, Yaoyao?”

Her innocent tone and her calm demeanor only made Xin Yao even more exasperated, a mixture of amusement and frustration bubbling within her.

“Of course I don’t like them! You bought so many! Are you trying to kill me?”

Xu Jingyu’s expression turned slightly forlorn.

“They’re disposable. It’s not that many. But if you don’t like them, it’s such a waste.”

“How about…” she looked up at Xin Yao, her long eyelashes fluttering, her gaze lingering on her face, “I wear them?”

It was a blatant attempt at seduction.

Xin Yao, realizing the danger, her expression turning serious, knew that if she gave in, she would fall right into Xu Jingyu’s trap.

But at the same time, she couldn’t help but imagine Xu Jingyu, the aloof and untouchable movie queen, wearing those clothes, her gaze soft and inviting, her voice a husky whisper, her body intertwined with Xin Yao’s.

She suddenly understood why Xu Jingyu had bought so many.

Xin Yao’s expression hardened, her voice serious.

“So, baby, do you prefer bunnies or foxes? Or do you want to try both?”

Xu Jingyu chuckled, her elbow resting on her knee, her hand supporting her chin, her posture relaxed.

But her eyes, as she looked at Xin Yao, were dark and intense, like a gathering storm.

Her voice, soft and seductive, was a whispered promise.

“Either is fine. But this time… can I tie you up?”

Xin Yao, as if she hadn’t expected this, thought, So that’s what you’ve been planning.

But she couldn’t resist the temptation. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, her voice firm.

“Deal.”

Chapter 59 p1

“Cut! That’s a wrap!”

Xin Yao stood in the center of the set, bathed in the bright, white light of the winter sun, a red dress swirling around her, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions as she looked at the faces before her.

The crew of “Unseen Spring.”

Director Gao, behind the camera, the assistant director, his hair thinning from countless sleepless nights, the screenwriter, her eyes filled with tears, having witnessed the culmination of their shared journey, Lu Duanjing’s story finally told, her life brought to life on screen.

The camera operators, the lighting crew, the makeup artists, and all the others, their faces a mix of exhaustion, relief, and pride.

A wave of applause erupted, a celebration of their hard work, their shared accomplishment.

Xin Yao’s eyes flickered, the memories of the past few months flashing before her, like a film reel rewinding, from the warm days of autumn to the cold depths of winter.

From the day she had auditioned, her determination to get the role, to her first day on set, her first encounter with Lu Duanjing.

She had initially found acting tedious and repetitive.

But as the filming progressed, as she delved deeper into Lu Duanjing’s character, her initial reluctance had given way to a newfound appreciation for the craft, her interest growing with each scene.

She had been moved by Lu Duanjing and Wen Sigu’s love story, their struggles and their triumphs, their quiet defiance in a world that sought to silence them.

And she had been inspired by the talented actors around her, their performances a masterclass in emotional depth and nuance.

She had become completely immersed in her role, in the story, her initial desire to finish the film quickly replaced by a deep sense of connection, a reluctance to say goodbye.

Director Gao, her own eyes filled with emotion, walked over to Xin Yao.

Filmmaking wasn’t always a pleasant experience. It was often a painful, arduous process.

The endless rewrites, the countless retakes, the frustrating technical difficulties, the constant pressure to create something beautiful and meaningful, it was all a test of endurance.

But now, with the film finally completed, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a bittersweet nostalgia for the shared journey.

Director Gao, her usual boisterous energy replaced by a quiet sincerity, looked at Xin Yao, her voice soft.

“Thank you, Xin Yao. You did a wonderful job. Thank you for bringing Lu Duanjing to life.”

“But for now, it’s time to say goodbye to her. We’ll see her again next winter, when the film is released.”

The first half of “Unseen Spring” had been a gentle, almost lyrical exploration of love and longing, its emotional landscape subtle and nuanced.

But the second half had been a descent into darkness, the characters’ lives unraveling, their love a forbidden flame in a world of shadows, Xin Yao’s performance a powerful portrayal of grief and despair.

Director Gao, worried about Xin Yao’s emotional state, had been reluctant to let her and Xu Jingyu see each other after their scenes, afraid they would become too immersed in their roles.

She had hoped to keep them separated, their contact minimal, for their own good.

But they had both been defiant, their desire for each other too strong to be contained by Director Gao’s rules.

Xu Jingyu, knowing Xin Yao’s filming schedule, had been waiting outside the set since early morning, eager to see her.

And if she knew that Director Gao was trying to keep them apart, she would be furious.

So, Director Gao, after much deliberation, had simply said, “Go change your clothes. We’ll have a wrap party tonight.”

Xin Yao, back in her dressing room, removed her makeup and changed into her own clothes, then sat at her vanity table, her gaze lingering on the familiar objects, the empty spaces a reminder of the countless hours she had spent here, her hard work and dedication, her memories of the past few months.

But after today, she wouldn’t be returning.

As she sat there, lost in thought, a sudden movement, a soft rustling sound, startled her.

She turned to see a large bouquet of pink roses, their delicate petals a vibrant splash of color in the soft light.

The hand holding the roses, its long, slender fingers like sculpted jade, was hidden in the shadows.

Following the line of the arm upwards, Xin Yao saw Xu Jingyu, standing there, her gaze soft and warm.

“Congratulations on wrapping up filming, Ms. Xin.”

Xin Yao, with a gasp of surprise, stood up and, instead of taking the flowers, threw herself into Xu Jingyu’s arms, her embrace tight and joyful.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!”

She knew Xu Jingyu had finished filming days ago and didn’t need to be on set.

And Director Gao, wanting to protect Xin Yao from any distractions, had kept them apart during the filming of the final scenes, hiding Xin Yao away, forbidding any contact between them.

Xin Yao had practically been living on set for the past ten days, unable to see or speak to Xu Jingyu.

Now, with filming finally over, their reunion after weeks of separation was a joyous occasion.

She hugged Xu Jingyu tightly, then, cupping her face in her hands, kissed her, her lips lingering on Xu Jingyu’s, then showering her with quick, playful kisses.

Xu Jingyu, setting the flowers aside, wrapped her arms around Xin Yao, her body trembling slightly from the unexpected display of affection, her eyes softening as she returned Xin Yao’s kisses.

“Now that filming is over, there’s no need to stay apart. Of course I came to see you.”

“Wow,” Xin Yao nuzzled her face against Xu Jingyu’s neck, her voice a soft murmur. “You really love me, don’t you, Xu Jingyu?”

“Of course,” Xu Jingyu chuckled, the answer obvious.

Then, she paused, as if remembering something.

“Don’t work with Director Gao again. She’s too… unconventional. And don’t take on roles that require you to be separated from me.”

Her words, though unspoken, conveyed her reluctance to be apart from Xin Yao.

Wow.

She really can’t live without me.

Xin Yao couldn’t help but smile, the thought both amusing and slightly overwhelming. They couldn’t be together every second of every day, could they?

“But what if I’m filming on another set? You can’t follow me everywhere, can you?”

Xu Jingyu didn’t answer, her eyes flickering with a sudden intensity. “Can I?”

“You’ve actually thought about it?! Ms. Xu, don’t you have anything else to do?”

“No.”

It was true. Before meeting Xin Yao, her life had been a meaningless void, her days blending into one another, her existence a monotonous routine. Xin Yao had brought color and light into her world.

Xin Yao was her world.

And what else was there to do but revolve around her world?

After weeks of separation, their reunion was filled with unspoken words, their embrace a silent language, their conversation a steady stream of shared thoughts and feelings.

It was Chen Jia’s knock on the door that finally reminded them of the wrap party.

They exchanged a lingering glance, then reluctantly separated, getting ready to leave.

The script for “Unseen Spring” had been a quiet, introspective exploration of love and loss.

But thanks to Director Gao’s eccentric personality and the constant interruptions from the zombie movie set next door, the atmosphere on set had become increasingly chaotic and boisterous.

So, instead of a formal dinner at a restaurant, the wrap party was held on set, in a large, heated tent erected in the open space near the entrance.

Xin Yao, loving the lively atmosphere, her hand in Xu Jingyu’s, entered the tent, the warm air and the sound of laughter and chatter washing over them, their smiles widening.

The crew had been waiting for them.

The hot pot ingredients and broth, ordered from a nearby restaurant, were already simmering in the large pot, the fragrant steam filling the air.

They were just waiting for Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu to arrive.

Xin Yao, her smile bright, greeted everyone as she walked towards Director Gao’s table.

As the two female leads, they were expected to sit with the director.

Two empty seats were waiting for them.

Xin Yao sat down, and Xu Jingyu was about to join her when Director Gao, sitting beside the empty seat, suddenly stood up and plopped down in Xu Jingyu’s chair.

“Yaoyao, Yaoyao! I need to talk to you! I want to sit next to you!”

Then, she gestured towards the seat she had just vacated, her voice a cheerful command. “Ms. Xu, you can sit there.”

With a single, thoughtless action, she had separated the two women who had been forced apart for weeks.

And Xu Jingyu, who craved Xin Yao’s presence, who wanted to be near her every second of every day, naturally wanted to sit beside her.

Hearing Director Gao’s words, she didn’t move, simply standing there, her eyelashes lowered, her gaze cold and intense as she looked down at the director.

Director Gao, oblivious to the danger, leaned closer to Xin Yao, eager to share some gossip.

“Yaoyao, let me tell you…”

The assistant director, witnessing the scene, her heart pounding, thinking, How can someone be so oblivious?!, leaned over and pulled Director Gao back, her voice a hushed warning.

Director Gao, dragged back to her seat, looked at her assistant, confused, then tried to stand up again.

“What’s wrong? I have something important to tell Xin Yao!”

The assistant director pushed her back down, her voice low and urgent.

“Are you blind?! If you go over there, you’ll be dead meat! I just saved your life! You owe me dinner!”

“What are you talking about?!” Director Gao, her curiosity piqued, exclaimed. “You’re insulting my directorial skills! And you’re trying to extort me!”

“I am insulting your directorial skills, but ‘extortion’ is a bit harsh!”

As they bickered, Xu Jingyu, satisfied, sat down beside Xin Yao, her expression impassive, but her eyes, Xin Yao knew, were sparkling with amusement.

If she had a tail, it would be wagging uncontrollably.

Xin Yao, unable to help herself, smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re so childish. Do you really have to sit next to me to be happy?”

“Yes,” Xu Jingyu’s expression softened in the warm light. “I’m very happy now.”

As they whispered to each other, Director Gao and her assistant, their argument temporarily suspended, finally left them alone.

After all, it was a wrap party, and as the director, she had to say a few words.

She stood up, her gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the faces of the cast and crew, their expectant gazes fixed on her, the steam from the hot pot filling the air.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then finally spoke, her voice clear and strong.

“No mushy speeches. Just eat, drink, and be merry! Happy wrap!”

The room erupted in cheers.

“Happy wrap!”

“Long live the director!”

“Yaoyao Laoshi, we love you!”

The cheerful chatter and the clatter of chopsticks filled the air as the celebration began.

Xin Yao, hearing the shouts of “I love you,” chuckled, then, seeing Xu Jingyu’s slightly sullen expression, she laughed even harder.

But as they ate, Xin Yao noticed something strange. She had noticed it during their previous dinner as well. Xu Jingyu, when eating hot pot, only ate the vegetables from the clear broth!

She was the real bunny!

Chapter 58 p2

Two days later, in a luxurious villa…

A woman with long, wavy hair, dressed in a red dress, her features as vibrant and alluring as a rose, led a man by his tie, her grip firm, her smile playful.

The man, his face pale and his expression slightly anxious, was undeniably handsome, his features delicate and refined.

She led him to her room, closing the door behind them, then, releasing his tie, turned to face him, her smile widening.

“I’m Dan Yan. What was your name again?”

The man, forcing a smile, replied, “Jiejie, my name is Li Xu.” [Older Sister]

Dan Yan laughed, her red lips curving into a seductive smile.

Then, she walked over to a nearby drawer and pulled out a collar, a small name tag dangling from it.

She gently fastened the collar around Li Xu’s neck.

“This is my first gift to you. Be a good boy, and I’ll engrave your name on it tomorrow.”

Li Xu nodded, his anxiety growing.

He had heard rumors about Dan Yan’s eccentricities, but he didn’t know the details.

Dan Yan’s gaze lingered on his face, her long, red fingernails tracing his cheek.

“From today onwards, you’re mine.”

Li Xu was about to nod when her smile suddenly turned cold, her voice a menacing whisper.

“My dog.”

Li Xu froze, forcing a smile.

“Jiejie…”

The next moment, he finally understood the true nature of Dan Yan’s madness.

She slapped him hard across the face, the force of the blow splitting his lip, drawing blood.

Then, her high heels clicking against the floor, she walked over to him, her voice a mocking laugh.

“My dear doggy, dogs don’t talk. You have much to learn.”

Social climbing wasn’t always smooth sailing. Sometimes, you encountered cunning opponents, and sometimes, you encountered crazy ones.

Xin Yao, however, unaware of her girlfriend’s actions, her focus entirely on her work, continued filming.

Her acting had improved significantly.

Having witnessed Wen Xin’s powerful performance, she had been inspired, her understanding of the craft deepening, her own skills growing.

She had broken through her plateau, her progress rapid.

To maintain the emotional distance required by their roles, she and Xu Jingyu weren’t seeing each other every day.

So, arriving on set, she easily slipped into character, her heart aching for Lu Duanjing’s pain and despair.

Lu Duanjing had escaped.

During her mother’s funeral, with the help of the nanny and the other women in the household, she had fled the suffocating confines of the Lu residence.

She had taken some money with her, and the small shop she had opened for the orphanage had also generated some income, ensuring her financial security.

Despite her own grief and despair, she had still thought of the orphans, her kindness unwavering.

Before leaving, she had secretly met with her cousin, entrusting her with the remaining money and the shop, asking her to continue caring for the children.

Then, she had contacted a friend of Wen Sigu’s, a teacher at the school, asking her to deliver a letter to Wen Sigu, who was still confined to her room.

In the letter, she had asked Wen Sigu if she wanted to leave with her. If so, she would be waiting for her at her small, rented apartment, until dawn.

Against all odds, the letter had reached Wen Sigu.

And Wen Sigu, of course, had agreed.

She hadn’t hesitated for a moment.

The next evening, as her family was forcing her into a car, about to send her abroad, she had found an opportunity, knocking them unconscious and stealing the car.

In her pocket, close to her heart, were two boat tickets, given to her by her friend.

Tonight, she would return to Lu Duanjing, and together, they would escape, sailing away at dawn, towards a new life.

Her hands gripping the steering wheel, her heart pounding, she thought: Duanjing, wait for me. I’m coming.

She drove as fast as she could, the sky darkening as she neared her destination.

It was almost midnight.

Just an hour more, and she would be with Lu Duanjing again.

But fate had other plans.

A loud bang echoed through the night.

One of her tires had blown, the car spinning out of control, careening towards the side of the road.

Wen Sigu wrestled with the steering wheel, but it was no use. The car crashed, the impact throwing her against the dashboard.

She lay there, dazed, her head bleeding, then, as she tried to sit up, she felt something cold and hard against her temple.

A gun.

A dark figure stood outside the broken window, their voice a menacing whisper.

“You’re Wen Sigu. Tell me where the medicine and the man are, and I’ll let you live.”

Wen Sigu slowly lifted her head.

The shattered glass reflected in her eyes, her mind racing, the memories of the past few weeks flashing before her.

She knew what the figure was talking about, the medicine, the man. She had been the one to hide them.

It had been a while ago.

After the slum massacre.

A figure, desperate to escape, their face illuminated by the flickering flames, had caught Wen Sigu’s attention.

It was the beggar she and Lu Duanjing had rescued during their medical outreach trip.

His companion had been trying to pull him back, his voice urgent.

“Just a little longer! You have a more important mission! Go!”

His companion had sacrificed himself, and the beggar, tears streaming down his face, had escaped.

And then Wen Sigu, having witnessed the massacre, had investigated, the report she had received hinting at something to do with medicine.

The government had claimed they were pursuing a drug dealer.

But it was a lie. Why would they go to such lengths for a simple drug dealer?

Wen Sigu, using her connections, had finally uncovered the truth.

The “drug dealer,” the beggar, was actually a respected scientist.

He had acquired a new drug, and its formula, from abroad, a breakthrough in medical science.

In their time, medicine was more valuable than gold, more precious than life itself.

He had wanted to bring the drug and the formula back to China, to save lives, to heal the sick.

But there were those who wanted to steal it, to profit from it, both within and outside the country, their greed driving them to attempt to assassinate him, forcing him into hiding, his life reduced to that of a beggar, constantly on the run.

The slum massacre had been a botched attempt to capture him. He had escaped.

Wen Sigu loved her country.

Despite its flaws, its corruption, its decay, she loved the land that had given her life.

And as a doctor, she knew the importance of the drug and its formula, the potential it held to save countless lives.

She had been following the scientist’s story, offering him protection whenever she could, even though they had never met.

And then, by a strange twist of fate, she had encountered him in the remote village where she and Lu Duanjing had been conducting their medical outreach.

She had recognized him instantly, her face paling. “It’s you!”

The scientist, disguised as a beggar, despite his severe injuries, had tried to run away.

Wen Sigu, her voice low and urgent, had said, “I know who you are. I’m a doctor. You can trust me. This place isn’t safe. Come with me.”

She was a doctor.

And because she was a doctor, she understood the importance of the drug and its formula. Risking her own life, she had helped him escape, hiding him and the precious cargo he carried.

The memory ended abruptly.

The dark figure outside the car pressed the gun harder against Wen Sigu’s temple, their voice cold.

“Tell me where the medicine and the man are. Lead us to him, and we’ll let you go.”

Wen Sigu, her head resting on the steering wheel, her forehead bleeding, her eyes flickering in the dim light, wanted to live.

She couldn’t die. Duanjing was waiting for her. They were supposed to leave together at dawn.

She couldn’t die!

But then, the image of the injured scientist, huddled in the haystack, flashed through her mind.

And the images of countless others, their bodies broken, their spirits unbroken, fighting for their country, their sacrifices a testament to their unwavering patriotism.

The mothers who couldn’t afford medicine, forced to bury their children.

The nameless heroes, risking their lives to protect the drug and its formula, their sacrifices a beacon of hope in a world of darkness.

Countless lives, the lives of her countrymen, depended on this drug.

How could she betray them?

Just as she had told Duanjing, they were all insignificant, like dust motes in the wind, yet they all had a duty to fulfill.

In the quiet darkness of the deserted street, Wen Sigu looked at the shattered car window, her own voice echoing in her ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was the expected answer. They were all stubborn, these patriots, their loyalty unwavering.

And their true motive wasn’t just the drug, but Wen Sigu herself.

If they could get the information from her, it would be a bonus, but their primary target was Wen Sigu, a symbol of resistance, her defiance a threat to their power.

They had to eliminate her.

She had founded a school, helped the poor, offered free medical care, and now she had even helped smuggle the drug. She was becoming too dangerous.

So, whether she talked or not, she wouldn’t be leaving this alley alive.

They would have tortured her for information, but they didn’t have time.

A gunshot echoed through the night, the sound sharp and final, the blood splattering against the broken window.

Wen Sigu, her consciousness fading, her fingers trembling, reached for the boat tickets in her pocket.

But her hand was weak, and the tickets slipped from her grasp, fluttering out the window.

Like a dying ember, a final spark of life flared within her, and she opened the car door, stumbling out, reaching for the tickets.

She fell to the ground, the two small tickets just inches away.

But she couldn’t reach them.

She crawled forward, her bloodied hand reaching out, her fingertips almost touching the edge of one of the tickets.

But just as she was about to grasp it, her strength failed her.

She died there, in the cold, dark alley, her body undiscovered until morning.

In the dim moonlight, the date on the bloodstained tickets was clearly visible: tomorrow morning, at dawn.

Just a few more hours, and the sun would rise.

But for Wen Sigu, it would never rise again.

Someone was waiting for her, but she would never arrive.

Duanjing.

This winter is so cold.

I can’t be with you next spring.

I’m sorry.

My Duanjing.

Meanwhile, in her small, rented apartment, Lu Duanjing waited.

She had sent the letter to Wen Sigu, the address of her hiding place clearly written.

If Wen Sigu wanted to leave with her, she would come here.

But Lu Duanjing didn’t know when she would arrive, or if she would arrive at all.

She waited, her days and nights blurring together, the flickering candle flame her only companion.

Tonight, as she sat there, the candlelight illuminating her face, a sudden wave of anxiety washed over her, tears welling up in her eyes.

Then, her emotions overwhelming her, she buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing through the quiet room.

Sigu, my Sigu.

Where are you?

Are you even coming?

She would never know the answer.

Until the end of her days, she would never know that her beloved had been racing towards her, determined to escape with her, to see the spring together.

The last two scenes of the film, Xu Jingyu’s death scene and Xin Yao’s solitary vigil, were filmed simultaneously.

Xu Jingyu, covered in fake blood, her hair slightly disheveled, her beauty enhanced by a touch of vulnerability, stood up, the set erupting in applause.

Her performance had been breathtaking, the raw emotion, the intensity of her despair, bringing tears to the eyes of the onlookers.

As she stood there, the congratulations of the crew echoing around her, some still crying, others smiling, someone rushing forward with a bouquet of flowers, they discussed the final shots, the wrap-up photos.

Xu Jingyu, brushing the dust from her clothes, walked towards Xin Yao.

“We can take the photos later.”

Director Gao, knowing where she was going, didn’t try to stop her.

She had deliberately withheld the final scenes of the script, wanting to maintain the emotional distance between the actors.

Xu Jingyu’s character died, her story ending there, unaware of Lu Duanjing’s fate.

And Xin Yao, as Lu Duanjing, didn’t know if Wen Sigu had received her letter, or if she had even wanted to leave with her, or where she had gone.

Xin Yao’s current state of uncertainty, her anxiety and her longing, were perfect for the scene. She couldn’t allow Xu Jingyu to disrupt it.

But Xu Jingyu was unstoppable. Director Gao could only offer a warning.

“This is the last time! You two can’t see each other until Xin Yao’s scenes are finished! And don’t tell her how your character dies!”

Xu Jingyu, without turning back, simply replied, “I know.”

Wanting to maintain her composure, she changed out of her bloodstained costume and cleaned herself up before going to see Xin Yao.

Xin Yao, having just finished filming an emotionally charged crying scene, was still in character, sitting quietly in her dressing room, lost in thought.

The door opened behind her, and she turned, her gaze meeting Xu Jingyu’s in the soft light.

Xu Jingyu was smiling, her expression gentle and warm.

“I heard Miss Bunny was crying. May I offer her a hug?”

Having just filmed a scene of unrequited love, a scene of waiting and longing, Xin Yao understood the pain of a love that might never be realized.

But Xu Jingyu, the woman who loved her more than anything, would never make her wait.

No matter the obstacles, no matter the distance, she would always find her way back to Xin Yao.

Xin Yao’s eyes filled with tears, and she stood up, her arms outstretched.

“Hug me.”

Chapter 58 p1

The frost-covered grass glittered in the cold night, the biting winter wind whipping against their skin like tiny knives.

Xu Jingyu had driven for hours in this weather just to see her. Xin Yao couldn’t let her leave so soon.

After a brief conversation in the cold night air, Xin Yao took Xu Jingyu’s hand and led her back to her room.

Once inside, Xin Yao initiated their intimacy.

The intense emotions of the afternoon’s scene, the tears she had shed for Lu Duanjing’s mother, the sadness of Wen Xin’s departure from the production, had left her feeling empty and vulnerable.

Seeing Xu Jingyu, her heart had filled with a warmth and longing she couldn’t ignore.

So, her kiss was both passionate and tender, her tongue tracing Xu Jingyu’s lips like a delicate caress, a silent expression of her love and longing.

Xu Jingyu, aroused by Xin Yao’s touch, her breath catching in her throat, instinctively parted her lips, inviting Xin Yao’s tongue to explore her mouth, a playful dance that quickly escalated into a passionate embrace.

Xu Jingyu, her self-control always precarious, was the first to lose control, her hand gripping Xin Yao’s waist, her kiss deepening, their passion igniting.

Xin Yao, caught in her embrace, her own desire flaring, her breath stolen by Xu Jingyu’s demanding kiss, her arms clinging to Xu Jingyu’s neck, her eyes shimmering with tears.

Xu Jingyu, loving Xin Yao’s vulnerability, her complete dependence on her, lifted her into her arms and carried her to the bed.

Their longing for each other, fueled by their separation, burned brightly, their movements urgent, their bodies seeking each other’s warmth.

They landed on the bed, their clothes still on, their bodies already intertwined.

Xin Yao’s breath hitched, her body arching against Xu Jingyu’s, her fingers digging into her shoulders, their tips turning white.

Her eyes, half-closed, her gaze unfocused, she moaned softly, her body trembling, then relaxing, her lips slightly parted.

Xu Jingyu, one hand still busy undressing her, the other gently caressing Xin Yao’s waist, leaned down and kissed her, their lips meeting in a long, slow kiss.

But then Xin Yao pulled away, a playful smile on her face, her legs slightly unsteady as she tried to get out of bed.

Xu Jingyu’s fingers twitched, her touch sending a shiver down Xin Yao’s spine, almost making her cry.

She was always so sensitive, especially in moments like these.

But her vulnerability, her tear-filled eyes, her soft moans, only made her more desirable.

Normally, Xu Jingyu would have lost control, but tonight, she held back.

Xin Yao had cried too much today, and Xu Jingyu’s heart ached for her.

She gently kissed Xin Yao’s lips, her voice a husky whisper. “What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

Xin Yao kissed her back, her eyes still shimmering with tears, but she still tried to leave, her voice soft.

“No, I just remembered something. I have some spicy rabbit meat, or maybe it’s not spicy… anyway, it’s delicious. I want to get it for you.”

Xu Jingyu, confused, her fingers twitching, asked, “Now? At this hour?”

Her repeated questions betrayed her surprise.

Xin Yao, her body almost melting beneath Xu Jingyu’s touch, took a deep breath, then smiled, pushing her playfully.

“Yes, now. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

But Xu Jingyu wasn’t about to let her go, not when they were just getting started.

She bent her head and nipped at Xin Yao’s neck, a playful bite that made her shiver.

“Have I done something wrong? Are you punishing me? I haven’t seen you in days. Are you upset that I didn’t come sooner?”

Despite her usually cool and detached tone, her words held a hint of vulnerability, almost a plea.

“Of course not,” Xin Yao said, her face flushed, her eyes shining with a playful light. She kissed Xu Jingyu softly. “It’s not a punishment. It’s a reward. You’ll see. You might even like it.”

With that, she slipped out of Xu Jingyu’s embrace and ran out of the room, leaving Xu Jingyu alone on the bed, staring at the empty doorway.

After a moment, she lay back against the pillows, looking at her hand in the soft light, her fingers tracing the faint marks Xin Yao had left on her skin.

She was a predator by nature, her possessiveness a powerful force, her desire to possess Xin Yao completely, to keep her captive in her embrace, a constant, burning flame.

But with Xin Yao, it was different. Xin Yao also had a power over her, her touch, her gaze, her every word, capable of igniting a fire within Xu Jingyu, making her lose control.

She lay there, waiting, her body buzzing with anticipation.

Xin Yao returned a while later, her movements strangely hesitant as she walked towards the bed, her slippers padding softly against the carpet.

Xu Jingyu, hearing her approach, sat up, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s figure in the doorway.

And as she saw her, her eyes widened in surprise, her usual composure momentarily forgotten, then her gaze darkened, her pupils contracting into narrow slits, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths, like a predator spotting its prey.

Xin Yao stood there, in the soft light, her pajamas discarded, her body clad only in a white lace lingerie set, similar to a swimsuit.

The thin straps revealed her slender arms and shoulders, her skin pale and smooth, a delicate pink blush coloring her cheeks and chest, the sight both innocent and alluring.

She wore white thigh-high stockings, the tops of the stockings creating a slight indentation in her soft flesh.

Her feet were bare, her toes curling slightly against the carpet.

A pair of white, fluffy bunny ears adorned her head, bobbing gently as she moved.

The warm light illuminated her body, her skin glowing.

So, the “bunny” she had mentioned was herself.

Xin Yao had never considered wearing something like this before.

She had been browsing online when the outfit had appeared in her recommendations.

It had looked… surprisingly appealing.

And she had wondered, with a touch of mischief, if Xu Jingyu would like it.

After all, beneath her cold and aloof exterior, Xu Jingyu had a passionate, almost insatiable appetite for intimacy.

She would probably like it, wouldn’t she?

But it felt a bit… much. And embarrassing. She had dismissed the thought.

But then, with the increasingly tragic and emotionally charged scenes in the script, and Director Gao’s cruel decree of separation, her longing for Xu Jingyu had become unbearable.

Seeing the bunny outfit, still sitting in her online shopping cart, she had clicked “buy.”

She had thought: When they finally reunited, she would indulge Xu Jingyu’s desires, no matter how outrageous.

And now, Xu Jingyu had come to her, so she had decided to wear it.

It was her first time wearing something like this, and she felt slightly self-conscious, especially under Xu Jingyu’s intense gaze, her cheeks burning, a delicate pink blush spreading across her body, her appearance both vulnerable and alluring.

But she walked towards Xu Jingyu, her footsteps soft against the carpet, and knelt beside the bed, her head resting against Xu Jingyu’s leg, her voice a soft murmur, her eyes lowered.

“Ms. Xu, your bunny has arrived. You can start eating now.”

Xu Jingyu’s breath hitched, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face, her fingers gently stroking her hair.

“And how should I eat you, Miss Bunny?”

Xin Yao tilted her head back slightly, her cheek rubbing against Xu Jingyu’s palm.

“However you like.”

Xin Yao’s words had been a playful tease.

But Xu Jingyu took them literally.

And so, Xin Yao learned, in the most intimate way possible, just how much Xu Jingyu enjoyed this, her passion unrestrained, her hunger insatiable.

By the time they finished, it was almost dawn, the bunny ears discarded on the floor, the lingerie and stockings torn and discarded, stained with a glistening sheen, silent witnesses to their passion.

Xin Yao had no scenes the next day, but Xu Jingyu did.

Despite having barely slept, Xu Jingyu seemed energized, her eyes shining with a satisfied glow, like a predator after a successful hunt.

As she was leaving, she leaned down and kissed Xin Yao’s forehead.

Xin Yao, awakened by her touch, didn’t respond, simply turning over and pulling the covers over her head, a small huff of annoyance escaping her lips.

Xu Jingyu, seeing her childish behavior, smiled.

“You started it, Miss Bunny. Why are you sulking now?”

The nerve of this woman!

Xin Yao, throwing back the covers, her body exposed in the warm air, glared at her.

Her skin, from her neck to her chest, was covered in love bites, like tiny red flowers scattered on snow, a testament to Xu Jingyu’s unrestrained passion.

“I told you to be gentle! And you still left so many marks! Especially on my neck! What if Director Gao sees them?!”

Xu Jingyu, pulling the blanket back over Xin Yao, her touch gentle, afraid she would catch a cold, chuckled.

“Then tell her it was my fault. Let her scold me.”

“Shameless!”

“Mm-hmm, I am.”

Their life together, despite the forced separations imposed by the director, was filled with stolen moments of intimacy, their love a secret language.

Meanwhile, others weren’t so fortunate.

The Mo family, humiliated by the events of the engagement party, had become the laughingstock of their social circle, much to Mo’s parents’ chagrin.

Mo Yuwei had locked herself away in her room, refusing to see anyone.

The relentless media attention, the gossip, the ridicule, it was all too much for her to bear.

She hadn’t dared to leave the house for days, afraid of being recognized, of facing the judgment of strangers.

She finally understood what Xin Yao had endured.

But the public’s curiosity, the internet’s fickle attention, would eventually fade.

The real damage, however, was to the Mo family’s business. Their company’s stock price had plummeted after the scandal.

And even worse, the Xu family, adding insult to injury, had publicly announced they were severing all ties with the Mo Corporation.

The Xu family!

The news had almost made Mo’s father faint.

And it had triggered a domino effect.

Other families, eager to curry favor with the powerful Xu family, or simply afraid of offending them, had also distanced themselves from the Mo family.

The Mo Corporation, now isolated and vulnerable, was on the verge of collapse.

Mo’s father, desperate, had tried to contact Xu Jingyu, the elusive and powerful CEO of the Xu Corporation, hoping to salvage their relationship.

His requests had been repeatedly denied, until finally, Xu Jingyu had agreed to meet with him.

He had been overjoyed, but also slightly puzzled by her request to bring Mo Yuwei along.

He hadn’t understood, but he had complied.

They met in a private room on the top floor of the Xu family’s exclusive club.

The room was lavishly decorated, its opulence intimidating, even Mo’s father feeling a sense of awe.

And the person they were about to meet, the powerful and enigmatic Xu Jingyu, only amplified their anxiety.

They waited nervously.

Finally, she arrived.

The door opened, and a tall, slender woman, dressed in a black coat, entered the room.

She was surprisingly young, and incredibly beautiful, her presence commanding, her gaze chilling.

She was Xu Jingyu, the undisputed ruler of the Xu Corporation.

Mo’s father stood up and greeted her respectfully.

“President Xu, thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

Xu Jingyu, ignoring him, walked over to the sofa and sat down, her voice a cool, indifferent murmur.

“Mm-hmm.”

Xue Ning and Meng Wanqing, following behind her, also sat down.

Compared to Xu Jingyu’s icy demeanor, they seemed relaxed and casual, Xue Ning even smiling at the nervous father and daughter.

“Relax, you two. There’s no need to be so tense.”

Mo’s father and Mo Yuwei finally sat down, Mo’s father about to speak when Xu Jingyu, her gaze cold and sharp, interrupted him.

“Xin Yao is my fiancée.”

The seemingly random statement stunned them into silence, then, as its meaning sank in, they finally understood the reason for the Xu family’s actions.

Mo Yuwei, her impulsive nature unchanged, was incredulous. When had Xin Yao become Xu Jingyu’s fiancée?!

“So, you’re targeting the Mo Corporation to avenge your fiancée?” she blurted out.

“Targeting you? You overestimate yourselves,” Xu Jingyu’s dark eyes flickered as she glanced at Mo Yuwei. “Even if I were, what’s wrong with that? Just like you did, using your money and your influence to bully others.”

Few could withstand Xu Jingyu’s cold stare, and even Mo Yuwei, under her scrutiny, felt a sense of suffocation, her breath catching in her throat.

And Xu Jingyu’s words, a sharp reminder of her own actions, of the slap she had delivered on set, her arrogance and her cruelty, made her feel a pang of guilt, the consequences of her actions now a painful reality.

Mo’s father was about to apologize when Mo Yuwei suddenly stood up and slapped herself hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room, her cheek instantly turning red.

Then, she bowed deeply to Xu Jingyu.

“I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize. It was all my fault, not my family’s. Please, direct your anger at me, and spare my family.”

Her dramatic gesture, however, didn’t faze Xu Jingyu, who simply took a sip of her tea, her expression unchanged.

“Firstly, you’re apologizing to the wrong person. You should apologize to the person you harmed.”

“Secondly, are you sure you can handle my revenge?”

Mo Yuwei, realizing her mistake, her eyes filling with tears, stammered, “But… but I was also deceived!”

“Precisely because you were also a victim,” Xu Jingyu placed her teacup on the table, her voice calm and even, “I’ve only chosen to punish you slightly.”

Indeed, for Xu Jingyu, it had been a minor punishment. She hadn’t actually done anything, just said a few words.

Mo Yuwei’s offer to be the target of her anger had been laughable.

“But before you were a victim, you were a bully,” Xu Jingyu’s gaze turned cold. “You inflicted pain on others, and now, experiencing the consequences of your actions, you feel wronged?”

“It seems you’re still immature, Miss Mo. You need to learn a lesson.”

“You used your wealth and influence to bully others, to look down on them. Now, you’ll experience what it’s like to be powerless, to live like an ordinary person.”

“When you’ve suffered enough, we can talk again.”

In other words, she wasn’t letting the Mo family off the hook anytime soon.

She would make them suffer, both Mo Yuwei and her family.

But she hadn’t condemned them completely. It was just a punishment, not a death sentence.

When Xu Jingyu’s anger subsided, she would release her grip on the Mo family.

Mo’s father, relieved, seeing that Xu Jingyu had no further interest in their pleas, thanked her profusely and led his sobbing daughter away.

After they left, Meng Wanqing, who still resented Mo Yuwei for bullying Xin Yao, clicked her tongue.

“That was surprisingly merciful. Not your usual style, President Xu.”

Xu Jingyu: “It was Yaoyao who was merciful. She never wanted to harm Mo Yuwei. I was simply acting on her behalf.”

“But,” Meng Wanqing, remembering something, asked curiously, “when did Yaoyao become your fiancée? Did you propose?”

The question made Xu Jingyu’s face darken.

“I did.”

“And?”

“She rejected me.”

Meng Wanqing couldn’t help but laugh.

Even Xue Ning, sitting beside her, chuckled, then quickly covered her mouth, afraid of incurring Xu Jingyu’s wrath.

Xue Ning, tempted by Director Gao’s offer, had betrayed Xu Jingyu, becoming her informant, and had been suffering the consequences ever since, having been sent on a “business trip” to the Arctic, where she was slowly freezing to death.

Who knew the Xu family had business interests in the Arctic?!

That vengeful woman!

Meng Wanqing, knowing about Xue Ning’s betrayal, was curious about what Director Gao had offered her.

Xue Ning scoffed.

“Three thousand photos of you, Meng Wanqing. Three thousand embarrassing photos.”

Meng Wanqing’s eyes widened, then she exploded.

“You deserved it!”

“But wait, why does Gao Ge even have those photos? Three thousand photos! That’s outrageous!”

As they bickered, their argument escalating, Xu Jingyu silenced them with a cold stare.

Xue Ning, remembering something, said, “Oh, and that scumbag Li Xu is out of jail.”

While the evidence against him was substantial, Li Xu, resourceful and well-connected, had managed to secure a temporary release, the investigation still ongoing.

But his conviction was inevitable.

So, Li Xu, desperate, was frantically searching for a powerful patron, someone who could help him escape justice.

It seemed like a long shot, but it was his only hope.

Xue Ning shook her head. “He’s so disgusting. How could Yaoyao have ever liked him?”

Her words made Xu Jingyu turn to look at her, her gaze intense, her expression unreadable.

Xue Ning, intimidated, quickly backpedaled.

“Would you like some tea, Miss?”

Xu Jingyu ignored her, her gaze lowered.

“Recommend Dan Yan to him.”

Her words made Xue Ning and Meng Wanqing exchange glances.

After a moment of silence, Meng Wanqing couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow, Xu Jingyu, you’re evil.”

Dan Yan and Xu Jingyu were known as the two “madwomen” of their social circle.

But while Xu Jingyu’s madness was a cold, calculated ruthlessness, her indifference a weapon, Dan Yan was the opposite.

She was a creature of chaos, her passions unrestrained, her desires a burning fire, her actions impulsive and unpredictable.

She lived for drama, for excitement, for causing trouble.

She was a sadist, a hedonist, a force of nature.

Surprisingly, despite their contrasting personalities, Xu Jingyu and Dan Yan were on good terms, their shared business interests creating an unlikely alliance.

Chapter 57 p2

After dinner and a shower, alone in her hotel room, knowing that Xin Yao was just a few doors away, yet unable to see her, the thought of their forced separation for the next few weeks was unbearable.

But Xu Jingyu wasn’t one to follow rules.

Agreements could be broken. If they couldn’t meet in person, they could at least talk on the phone.

She sat on her bed and called Xin Yao, eager to see her face, her heart filled with a warm anticipation.

But after three rings, the call was answered, and instead of Xin Yao’s face, a furious Director Gao appeared on the screen, her voice a booming roar.

“I knew you wouldn’t listen! Calling Xin Yao already! I’ve been waiting all night for this…”

Director Gao, using her directorial authority, had bribed Xue Ning, Xu Jingyu’s agent, into swapping the contact information and profile pictures for Xin Yao and herself on Xu Jingyu’s phone.

Xu Jingyu, not expecting such a blatant betrayal from Xue Ning, her desire to talk to Xin Yao clouding her judgment, had fallen right into their trap.

Seeing Director Gao’s face, she instantly understood, her frustration mounting.

She hung up, her fingers gripping her phone tightly, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Xue Ning, you’re dead.

Director Gao’s relentless efforts to keep them apart made their lives a living hell, their days filled with a constant, agonizing longing.

And their suffering paled in comparison to the two women in the film, their love a forbidden flame in a world of darkness.

Lu Duanjing knelt in the ancestral hall, her face pale, her body swaying slightly.

After being dragged away by her father, she had been confined to the ancestral hall, forced to kneel, denied food and water, her punishment a cruel reminder of her transgression.

Her mother, hearing the news, had rushed to plead for her daughter’s release, only to be slapped by her furious husband, a vase shattering on the floor beside her.

“Look at her! This is the daughter you raised!”

And then she had learned the truth, the reason for her daughter’s punishment: she had fallen in love with a woman.

And the Lu family, steeped in tradition, her husband a staunch conservative, had been horrified.

He had believed his daughter was possessed, her love for another woman a sign of madness.

He had hired a Taoist priest to perform an exorcism.

That day, the winter sun had been unusually bright.

Lu Duanjing, weak and emaciated after days without food or water, had been dragged into the courtyard and forced to kneel, her face pale, her lips cracked and bleeding, her body trembling, as if she would collapse at any moment.

The priest’s chanting, the rhythmic clanging of his bell, had been like a swarm of ants crawling beneath her skin, making her want to scream.

She had looked up at the priest, his ridiculous robes and chanting, his absurd ritual, and had thought: This world is insane!

She had simply fallen in love with someone, a kindred spirit, and they called her mad?

They were the crazy ones!

And then they had forced her to drink a foul-smelling concoction, pinning her down, their hands gripping her limbs, their fingers forcing her jaw open, pouring the dark liquid down her throat as she struggled and choked.

The Lu family’s cruelty, their rigid adherence to tradition, was mirrored by the seemingly more open-minded Wen family.

Wen Sigu, returning home, had been punished by her father.

He had beaten her with a cane, the blows landing on her back, her skin breaking, the blood soaking through her clothes. But she had endured it in silence, her back straight, her teeth clenched.

Knowing her stubborn nature, her unwavering defiance, her family had decided to send her abroad.

For treatment.

There was a famous clinic overseas, specializing in “curing” people like Wen Sigu.

Wen Sigu, a doctor herself, knew what that meant. It wasn’t treatment, but a chemical lobotomy, a slow erasure of her memories, her emotions, her very self.

They would inject her with a drug that would gradually dull her senses, her thoughts slowing, her mind emptying, until she was left with nothing but a blank slate.

She would be alive, but her mind would be empty, her heart a void.

She wouldn’t even be able to remember who she loved.

After days of silence, Wen Sigu had finally spoken, her voice filled with a quiet despair, her gaze fixed on her father’s face.

“If I become like that, am I even alive? I’d rather die.”

They had simply fallen in love, and now one was considered mad, the other sick.

As the two families struggled to contain the scandal, Lu’s mother had fallen ill.

She had always been frail, and while her health had improved recently, the shock of her daughter’s forbidden love, and the subsequent violence, had been too much for her to bear.

Her daughter, her quiet, obedient daughter, had fallen in love with a woman! How could this be…?

Still reeling from the shock, she had been slapped by her husband, and that night, she had coughed up blood.

The emotional trauma, combined with the cold winter weather, had weakened her further.

But she had still managed to visit Lu Duanjing in the ancestral hall, her heart aching for her daughter, still kneeling there, her face pale and her body trembling, her defiance unwavering.

Lu’s mother had returned to her room and sat on her bed, tears silently streaming down her face.

After a long while, as if having made a decision, she had stood up and poured the medicine she had been carefully warming into a nearby flowerpot.

She wasn’t educated, having only recently learned a few characters with Lu Duanjing’s help, unable to even read properly.

She didn’t understand grand pronouncements of love and freedom, but she knew, with a mother’s intuition, that her daughter wasn’t happy in this house, in this life.

Only with Wen Sigu had she seen a spark of joy in Lu Duanjing’s eyes, a newfound confidence and a bright, cheerful smile.

Even the other women in the household had been inspired by their love, their eagerness to learn a testament to its power.

And she herself, hadn’t she also felt a flicker of hope, a sense of purpose she had never known before?

Perhaps all the women in this house were suffering, their lives a silent, unending torment.

She had spent her entire life trapped in this house, her days a monotonous cycle of duty and obedience, her spirit slowly withering.

Even in death, she would be buried in the Lu family’s ancestral graveyard, her name on the tombstone a simple “Mrs. Lu,” her own identity erased.

She couldn’t let her daughter suffer the same fate, her life also defined by duty and obedience, her own identity lost in the shadows of the Lu family.

After Lu Duanjing collapsed in the ancestral hall, she had been confined to her room, the doors and windows locked, her freedom restricted.

Days passed, the sun rising and setting, until finally, the door opened, the winter sunlight streaming into the room.

Her mother had died.

Lu Duanjing, standing there, her face pale, her body weak, had felt like she was in a dream, the news too absurd to be real.

The nanny, her eyes red from crying, had handed her a letter.

Lu Duanjing, her hands trembling, unfolded the letter, her mother’s crooked handwriting barely legible in the bright sunlight.

[Duanjing, when you read this letter, I’ll be gone. But I’m free now. And happy…]

Lu Duanjing, standing there in the sunlight, her gaze fixed on the letter, had felt as if her mother, her quiet, unassuming mother, was standing before her, her voice a soft, sad whisper.

“This house… it devours people.”

“When I first arrived, I thought it was so big, so grand. Then, after a few years, it felt small, its rooms and corridors familiar. But now, it feels too big, too vast, a prison I can never escape.”

Lu’s mother had been consumed by the house, her identity reduced to a name on a tombstone: Mrs. Lu.

She couldn’t let her daughter suffer the same fate.

Married off to another family, her life also confined to the four walls of a house, her spirit slowly withering, her own identity erased.

Especially after learning to read and write.

Lu’s mother had tasted freedom, had glimpsed a different kind of life, a life beyond the confines of the Lu residence.

And she had longed for it, her heart aching for a world she could never experience.

But she knew her time was short, her body failing her.

So, she had stopped taking her medicine, her quiet act of defiance a final, desperate attempt to save her daughter.

Her death would force the family to release Lu Duanjing from her confinement, and during the funeral, she had arranged for the nanny and the other women in the household to help Lu Duanjing escape.

It was her final act of love, her sacrifice a path to freedom for her daughter.

The last words of her letter, written in her shaky handwriting, echoed in Lu Duanjing’s mind.

[Duanjing, don’t grieve. Don’t look back.]

Lu Duanjing’s tears had flowed freely, her hand reaching out, as if to grasp her mother’s fading image.

But her mother had pushed her away, her voice a fierce, defiant roar, the loudest sound Lu Duanjing had ever heard from her.

“Don’t be Lu Duanjing!”

“My daughter doesn’t have to be demure! Or obedient! Be who you want to be! Live your own life!”

“Don’t grieve for me. Leave this place! Walk away! And take me with you!”

“From now on, what you see, I see.”

“Be brave. Move forward. Don’t look back.”

“Go, Lu Duanjing.”

“Run, Lu Duanjing!”

Director Gao had envisioned this scene as a dream sequence, a vision of Lu Duanjing’s deceased mother urging her to escape.

So, they had filmed it on location, Wen Xin, the actress playing Lu’s mother, standing before Xin Yao, her voice a tearful cry, her words a desperate plea, her performance a powerful portrayal of a mother’s love and sacrifice.

And in that moment, Xin Yao had felt the full force of her emotions, the raw, unfiltered grief and the fierce, unwavering love, a powerful wave that had washed over her, her heart aching, her body trembling.

It was the magic of acting, the power of a truly gifted performer.

Even after the scene ended, Xin Yao had remained in character, her tears flowing freely as she clung to Wen Xin, her voice choked with emotion.

“Mom, I miss you! Don’t leave me!”

Wen Xin, who had grown fond of Xin Yao, her heart melting at her vulnerability, had held her close, her voice a soft murmur.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving.”

Seeing Xin Yao’s tears, Xu Jingyu, unable to bear it, her heart aching with sympathy, had started to walk towards her, forgetting their agreement to stay away from each other.

But Director Gao, ever vigilant, had intercepted her.

“Ms. Xu! We agreed! No contact! And you were already calling her! I haven’t even mentioned the video call incident…”

Xu Jingyu had glanced at her, her expression cold and impassive, her eyes like chips of ice, silencing Director Gao, her words frozen in her throat.

Even the usually oblivious director had been intimidated by that look, a shiver running down her spine.

Xu Jingyu, her gaze returning to Xin Yao, continued walking towards her.

Just then, Xin Yao, having finally calmed down, wiped her eyes and looked up, her gaze meeting Xu Jingyu’s.

And in that moment, seeing the person she had missed so much, her longing, long suppressed, erupted, her heart aching.

She stumbled towards Xu Jingyu, her movements clumsy and unsteady.

And Xu Jingyu, also drawn to her, quickened her pace.

They were like magnets, their bodies pulled towards each other, their reunion inevitable.

Director Gao, seeing them, her eyes widening in alarm, yelled, “Separate them! Quickly!”

The assistant director, grabbing her arm, said, “Director, you’re like an evil mother-in-law! Calm down!”

Director Gao couldn’t help but retort, “I’m just trying to protect my family!”

Finally, seeing Xin Yao’s tear-streaked face, she relented, calling out, “Just one hug! Only one!”

But before she could even finish her sentence, Xin Yao had already thrown herself into Xu Jingyu’s arms, like a lost bird returning to its nest, her tears soaking Xu Jingyu’s shirt, her body trembling with a mix of relief and longing.

Finally, enveloped in Xu Jingyu’s familiar scent, her racing heart calmed, but her tears flowed even more freely.

And Xu Jingyu, while not crying, her trembling fingers betrayed her own emotions, her grip on Xin Yao tightening, as if afraid she would disappear.

She couldn’t bear being separated from Xin Yao, not even for a day, not even for a night.

Their longing was a shared burden.

But their embrace, on set, in full view of the crew, had to be brief.

And their forced separation only intensified their longing.

And to make matters worse, that night, Xin Yao discovered that Director Gao, in her infinite wisdom, had moved them to different hotels.

Twenty kilometers apart, a forty-minute drive.

Only the director of the zombie movie next door could rival her level of deviousness.

Lying in her new hotel bed, Xin Yao had finally recovered from the emotional intensity of the afternoon’s scene, but her eyes were still slightly swollen.

Physical discomfort and emotional longing combined to create a restless energy that made her toss and turn in bed.

She missed Xu Jingyu.

She missed her so much.

She wanted to see her.

But the director, having caught Xu Jingyu trying to video call Xin Yao, had forced them to delete each other’s contact information, forbidding them from communicating until filming was over.

Xin Yao couldn’t even call her.

Just as her longing became unbearable, her phone, lying on the nightstand, buzzed.

A new message.

Xin Yao, who had been wallowing in self-pity, sat up and grabbed her phone, her eyes scanning the message from an unknown number.

[Look outside.]

She paused, confused, then, a sudden realization dawning on her, she rushed to the window, throwing it open.

The cool night air and the starlight streamed in.

Below, standing beside a streetlight, was Xu Jingyu, her figure elegant and graceful even in the dim light.

Seeing Xin Yao, she raised her hand and waved.

It was her lover, braving the cold night, having come to see her.

Xin Yao grabbed a coat and ran downstairs.

As she reached Xu Jingyu, the soft glow of the streetlight illuminating her face, tears welled up in Xin Yao’s eyes, and she threw herself into Xu Jingyu’s arms.

“What are you doing here?”

Xu Jingyu’s arms, already outstretched, wrapped around Xin Yao, holding her close, inhaling her scent.

She felt like she could finally breathe again.

“I missed you, so I came.”

“But it’s so cold! And you’re so far away! And the director made us delete each other’s numbers! How did you get here?”

“It’s not cold. And it’s not far. I remember your number. Nothing can stop me from seeing you.”

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.