Chapter 40
The director had deliberately chosen dusk for this scene.
To emphasize the characters’ inner turmoil and the ambiguous atmosphere of their conflict, the lighting in the room was dim and soft.
The rustling of autumn leaves outside the window, carried by the gentle breeze, only amplified the silence within.
Xin Yao glanced at Xu Jingyu’s lower lip, the small cut she had inflicted a bright red mark, like a drop of blood, strangely alluring.
It was a testament to the intensity of their kiss.
Even though she now knew that Xu Jingyu was Pei Yu, her beloved, this was a different world, a different life, a different set of circumstances.
They weren’t lovers anymore.
Even if Xin Yao wanted to reveal her true identity, how could she explain it? Talk about past lives and reincarnation?
“I’m your wife from a past life. You were a snake, and we were in love”?
Xu Jingyu would probably think she was delusional.
And the system would immediately intervene.
[No way! You can’t reveal the existence of the system, or your identity as a host!]
So, despite the countless words swirling in her mind, she remained silent.
The silence made her feel awkward and apprehensive.
She had bitten Xu Jingyu’s lip. What was she thinking? Was she angry?
Xin Yao glanced at Xu Jingyu again.
Xu Jingyu was also looking at her, her long eyelashes lowered, casting shadows over her eyes.
Despite her seemingly impassive expression, her gaze was intense, almost overwhelming.
Xin Yao quickly looked away, her eyes darting around the room, pretending she hadn’t been staring.
Her nervous, almost childlike behavior amused Xu Jingyu, her eyes softening slightly.
“Ms. Xin, are you afraid of me?”
“Huh? No,” Xin Yao looked up, slightly flustered. “Ms. Xu, please don’t call me ‘Ms. Xin.’ Just call me Xin Yao.”
She finally found her courage, her gaze settling on the small cut on Xu Jingyu’s lip.
“I’m so sorry about that. Does it hurt?”
The question brought Xu Jingyu back to the memory of their kiss, the kiss she hadn’t been able to control, her eyes darkening slightly as she touched her lip.
“It’s fine.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
A silence followed Xu Jingyu’s cool reply, the atmosphere in the room growing heavy.
Xin Yao wanted to say something, but she didn’t know where to begin. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She had to hold back her tears.
Crying would ruin her makeup.
And it would make her seem strange, perhaps even frighten Xu Jingyu.
Amidst Liu Nuan Nuan’s endless chatter, one thing had resonated with Xin Yao: the loneliness of remembering everything alone.
Even if she found the person she loved again, even if they were right beside her, she couldn’t reveal her true feelings, her memories a secret she couldn’t share.
The system space offered the option of memory erasure, to protect the hosts’ mental and emotional well-being.
But few chose that option, their attachments too strong, their memories too precious.
Xin Yao hadn’t considered it either.
Her memories were her treasures, each moment a precious gem she couldn’t bear to lose.
And the joy and wonder of finding Pei Yu again, the overwhelming happiness that filled her heart, made the loneliness and sadness seem insignificant.
As Xin Yao’s thoughts raced, her emotions a tangled mess, Xu Jingyu spoke, her voice cool and melodious.
“Xin Yao, do you want to hold hands?”
“Sure… wait, what?” Xin Yao looked up, surprised.
Xu Jingyu leaned against the desk, her posture relaxed, her long legs, clad in black pants and boots, slightly bent, their length accentuated by the dim light.
She held out her hand, her fingers long and slender, like a delicate work of art.
“The director thinks we’re not familiar enough with each other. She wants us to… bond.”
“So, do you want to hold hands?”
Xin Yao stared at her outstretched hand, her lips pressed together. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out, her fingers brushing against Xu Jingyu’s warm palm.
She held her hand lightly, her grip hesitant.
But Xu Jingyu’s fingers closed around hers, her grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down Xin Yao’s spine.
Xin Yao bit her lip, then, mimicking Xu Jingyu’s posture, leaned against the desk beside her.
The room was quiet, the dim light flickering in the gentle breeze.
They stood there, side by side, their hands intertwined, neither of them speaking.
The warmth of Xu Jingyu’s hand, the firmness of her grip, calmed Xin Yao’s racing heart, a sense of peace and happiness settling over her.
And a touch of nervousness.
She wondered what Xu Jingyu thought of her, having just bitten her lip.
Would she still… like her?
Xin Yao’s palms started to sweat, her fingers tightening slightly. She instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but Xu Jingyu’s grip only tightened.
Startled by the movement, she turned to look at Xu Jingyu, her eyes widening in surprise.
The usually aloof and composed actress seemed even more nervous than Xin Yao.
Her profile, illuminated by the soft light, was perfect, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly.
She had kissed Xin Yao so fiercely just moments ago, almost savagely.
But now, simply holding hands, a gesture she herself had initiated, she seemed flustered.
Sensing Xin Yao’s gaze, she turned to look at her.
Xin Yao quickly looked away, not daring to meet her eyes.
But she could feel Xu Jingyu’s fingers tightening around hers, her palm growing warmer.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, the temperature rising.
It felt like a secret rendezvous, a stolen moment of intimacy.
Xu Jingyu was indeed nervous.
The feeling was strange and unfamiliar.
She had been called a monster since childhood, her parents’ words a constant reminder of her otherness.
She wasn’t just emotionally detached, she was almost completely numb, unable to feel anything.
So, she didn’t understand the strange, overwhelming emotions that had surged through her when she saw Xin Yao’s photo, and every moment since then.
She had simply felt an uncontrollable urge to be near her.
And during their kiss, those unfamiliar emotions had intensified, almost consuming her, her desire for Xin Yao so strong that she had wanted to hold her captive, to possess her completely.
The brief contact of their hands, the warmth of Xin Yao’s skin against hers, had only fueled her desire, making her crave more.
Her fingers had trembled as she held Xin Yao’s hand.
But as the room fell silent, her desire for physical intimacy mingled with a strange nervousness.
She was afraid of holding Xin Yao’s hand too tightly, of her own warmth burning Xin Yao’s skin, of the possibility that Xin Yao had only agreed to hold hands out of professional courtesy, not genuine affection.
Would Xin Yao like her?
Xu Jingyu’s fingers twitched, her desire for closeness, for a more intimate connection, making her want to intertwine their fingers, to press their bodies together.
But then she noticed Xin Yao looking at her.
She froze, her fingers stilling.
The nervousness spread from their joined hands, up her arm, making her entire body tingle.
As the air in the room grew warmer, or perhaps it was just Xu Jingyu who felt the heat, Xin Yao spoke, her voice soft.
Her head was bowed, a few strands of hair falling around her face, the soft light illuminating the delicate skin of her neck.
“Ms. Xu, what did you mean when you said you wanted to meet me? Do you know me?”
“No.”
“Oh,” Xin Yao’s voice was small, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“But more than wanting to meet you,” Xu Jingyu turned to look at her, “it’s more accurate to say that I missed you.”
“Hmm?” Xin Yao looked up, surprised. “Missed… me?”
Her gaze was direct and unwavering, making Xu Jingyu avert her eyes, not answering directly.
“Do you… dislike such strange words?”
Why would she dislike them? Xin Yao paused, confused.
Xu Jingyu continued, “Saying I missed you when we’ve just met… it’s probably quite rude.”
“But I’m just being honest. I hope you don’t think I’m crazy.”
Xin Yao almost laughed.
Wow.
This person was exactly the same.
She relaxed, but Xu Jingyu’s gaze intensified, her dark eyes fixed on Xin Yao’s face.
“You seemed upset before we started filming.”
“Why?”
“Do you dislike kissing scenes? Or do you… dislike me?”
As she asked the last question, her eyes narrowed, her grip on Xin Yao’s hand tightening.
Xin Yao, looking at her tense expression, remembering her earlier bluntness, decided that honesty might be the best approach.
She smiled softly, leaning closer to Xu Jingyu’s ear, her voice a warm, seductive whisper.
“No, it’s because I like you very much.”
Her warm breath against Xu Jingyu’s ear, like a feather’s gentle caress, sent shivers down her spine, her body tingling with pleasure.
But it was Xin Yao’s words, the word “like,” that made her heart skip a beat.
The unexpected confession sent ripples through Xu Jingyu’s usually calm demeanor, her eyes darkening with a sudden intensity.
She opened her mouth to speak, but just then, a knock echoed through the room.
The door opened, and Director Gao, her hair a mess, poked her head inside.
“How’s it going? Getting along?”
The sudden interruption broke the spell.
Xu Jingyu, however, ignored her, her gaze still fixed on Xin Yao.
Xin Yao, having delivered her line, snapped out of her daze and turned to the director.
Director Gao scratched her head, her expression slightly exasperated.
“If we don’t film this scene soon, we’ll lose the light. We can’t wait until tomorrow. It’ll delay the schedule.”
“Think about your characters, your emotions. We’ll be back in a minute.”
With that, she and the crew left the room.
Xin Yao, still holding Xu Jingyu’s hand, nodded.
“Yes, Director.”
Then, she realized they were still holding hands.
She glanced at Xu Jingyu, whose eyes, dark and intense in the dim light, seemed to flicker with something dangerous, as if startled by Xin Yao’s casual tone.
Xin Yao smiled, gently squeezing Xu Jingyu’s hand.
“Ms. Xu, we have to film now. Let go.”
Then, having delivered her line, she released Xu Jingyu’s hand and turned away, walking towards her starting position.
The moment Xin Yao’s warm hand left hers, Xu Jingyu’s fingers twitched, as if wanting to reach out and grab her again, before slowly curling into a fist.
The next take began.
The emotions that had surged through her upon seeing Xu Jingyu, the realization that she was Pei Yu, had calmed slightly during their brief hand-holding session.
Xin Yao was now in the perfect state of mind to portray Lu Duanjing’s complex emotions.
As the clapperboard snapped, she stood at the door of the clinic, looking at Wen Sigu, her expression a mix of sadness, vulnerability, longing, and fear.
Wen Sigu, clearly surprised by her arrival, opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Lu Duanjing ran towards her, throwing herself into her arms, the force of the impact making Wen Sigu wince.
But Lu Duanjing’s touch was also gentle, hesitant, her trembling fingers reaching out to touch Wen Sigu’s face, then retreating, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
And yet, her desperation made her surprisingly assertive, pushing Wen Sigu back against the desk.
She cupped Wen Sigu’s face in her hands and kissed her, her kiss a trembling, desperate plea.
Wen Sigu’s hands reached out, as if to push her away, but she hesitated, her fingers tangling in Lu Duanjing’s hair, her resistance melting away as she surrendered to the kiss, her arms wrapping around Lu Duanjing’s waist.
The setting sun cast a warm glow on Xu Jingyu’s face.
Xin Yao, almost buried in her embrace, her eyes flickering open, remembered holding hands with Xu Jingyu just moments ago.
Impulsively, she reached out and touched Xu Jingyu’s wrist, her fingers sliding into her palm, intertwining their fingers.
It was as if a switch had been flipped. Xu Jingyu, no longer able to contain her emotions, captured Xin Yao’s face in her hands, her kiss deepening, becoming fierce and passionate.
“Okay!”
“Perfect! That was perfect!”
The director’s excited voice echoed through the room. The kissing scene, after so many takes, was finally over!
Xin Yao, who had been thoroughly kissed, almost devoured, by the passionate Xu Jingyu, felt her legs weaken.
She tried to step back, but she stumbled.
Xu Jingyu caught her, her hand gripping Xin Yao’s waist, pulling her back into her arms.
The sudden movement made Xin Yao’s head bump against Xu Jingyu’s chin.
Xu Jingyu looked down at her, their faces inches apart, their gazes locking in the dim light, the air between them thick with unspoken intimacy.
Xin Yao watched as Xu Jingyu’s eyes, already dark and intense, darkened further, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths.
If they weren’t on set…
Thankfully, they were on set!
Director Gao’s voice, cheerful and boisterous, broke the spell.
“Alright, that’s a wrap for today!”
“Xin Yao.”
“Huh? Why are you two still hugging?”
“Ah!” Xin Yao, startled, pushed against Xu Jingyu, trying to break free.
Finally released from Xu Jingyu’s embrace, she turned to the director.
Director Gao, slightly nearsighted, hadn’t seen their intimate moment.
“Xin Yao, Ms. Xu, please spend some time together, get to know each other. The next scene is also emotionally charged.”
“And Xin Yao, your acting is still a bit stiff. Ask Ms. Xu for some pointers.”
Xin Yao nodded humbly.
“Yes, Director. Thank you.”
She turned to Xu Jingyu.
“I look forward to learning from you, Ms. Xu.”
Xu Jingyu, leaning against the desk, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face, smiled softly.
“Anytime. I’m always available.”
After the exhausting first scene, it was time for dinner.
Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu parted ways, Xin Yao joining her assistant, while Xu Jingyu went with her agent.
But later that evening, back at the hotel…
Director Gao, known for her strict and demanding style, insisted on having the entire cast and crew stay at the same hotel near the set, creating an almost isolated filming environment.
Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu, as the two female leads, were assigned rooms on the same floor, just a few doors apart.
So, after dinner, as they returned to their rooms, they met again in the hallway.
Chen Jia, staying on a different floor, had already gone to her room. And Xu Jingyu, finding her agent annoying, had sent her away.
The elevator doors opened, and they met in the quiet, dimly lit hallway.
Xu Jingyu, having changed out of her costume and into a black outfit, greeted Xin Yao.
“What a coincidence.”
Xin Yao’s eyes lit up. “Good evening, Ms. Xu.”
“Mm-hmm,” Xu Jingyu nodded. “Which room are you in?”
“315.”
“I’m in 309.”
They walked side by side, the silence between them comfortable yet slightly awkward.
Xin Yao wanted to say something, but she hesitated, the words catching in her throat.
The distance from the elevator to their rooms was short, and they soon reached Xu Jingyu’s door.
Xin Yao’s eyes flickered. “Good night, Ms. Xu.”
Xu Jingyu nodded and entered her room without a word.
Back in her own room, Xin Yao closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her body sliding downwards until she was sitting on the floor, the soft carpet beneath her a comforting presence.
She looked up at the bright ceiling light, her hand covering her face.
The emotions she had suppressed all day, the joy and confusion of seeing Pei Yu again, now overwhelmed her, a soft sob escaping her lips, her body trembling.
But then, through her tears, she started to laugh, a strange mix of sadness and joy filling her heart.
Meanwhile, Xu Jingyu, back in her room, closed the door and leaned against it, her usually impassive expression softening as she slid down to the floor, sitting on the carpet.
She looked down at her hand, the hand that had held Xin Yao’s.
Then, she slowly raised it to her face, her fingers tracing her palm, the memory of Xin Yao’s touch, the warmth of her skin, lingering.
Her chest heaved, her breath coming in short gasps, her throat tightening.
She looked like a predator on the verge of losing control, or a venomous snake, its cold exterior masking a desperate longing for touch and affection.
In that moment, in their separate rooms, leaning against their respective doors, their emotions mirrored each other.
It was as if they had transcended time and space, their bodies pressed together, back to back, their hearts beating in unison.
And their unspoken desires, their longing for each other, echoed through the silence.
I miss her. I miss her so much.
I want to see her. I need to see her.