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

Chapter 52 p1

“Mom, where are we going?” the girl in the wheelchair asked, bundled in a black down jacket, her face hidden behind a mask and hat.

Her mother, pushing the wheelchair, looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed.

“Just getting some fresh air. It’s not good for you to stay cooped up inside all day.”

Jian Ru’yin opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, falling silent.

She let her mother push her towards the small park near their home.

As they reached a bench, her mother suddenly seemed nervous, glancing around.

“Ru’yin, are you thirsty?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What? You are thirsty! Okay, okay, I’ll go buy you a bottle of water. Wait here.”

Jian Ru’yin: “Mom, I really don’t…”

But her mother had already dashed off, faster than she ever moved when rushing to the supermarket for a sale.

Jian Ru’yin sat there, alone, a puzzled expression on her face.

She had no choice but to wait.

She sat there in the chilly winter air, looking at the small, familiar park.

She was growing weaker each day, her body failing her, even breathing becoming a struggle.

It was winter, the snow melting and refreezing, the trees bare, their last few leaves falling in the wind.

Like her, their life was fading.

But Jian Ru’yin didn’t want to go back to the hospital.

She knew her illness was terminal, that there was no hope of recovery. Why prolong the suffering?

Her family had sold their car and borrowed money for her treatment, but she only had a few years left. Why burden them further with false hope?

So, despite their pleas, she had left the hospital, locking herself away in her room.

Today, her mother had tricked her into coming outside.

Jian Ru’yin sat there, watching the wind rustling through the bare branches of the trees, her thoughts filled with images of her father’s worried face, her mother’s tears, her own eyes welling up.

The cold wind made her tears flow faster, until she was sobbing uncontrollably, her hands covering her face.

People passed by, their curious glances a silent acknowledgment of her distress.

But few stopped to offer comfort.

But tonight…

As Jian Ru’yin sat there, overwhelmed by her emotions, a flower suddenly appeared before her eyes.

A bright red rose.

Its vibrant color, a stark contrast to the bleak winter landscape, its petals in full bloom, a symbol of life’s resilience in the face of adversity.

The flower, held by a gloved hand, was gently placed on her lap.

Jian Ru’yin looked up, her vision blurry with tears, and saw a person dressed in a fluffy white cat costume.

Probably a girl, judging by her small stature, the cat’s cheerful face a stark contrast to Jian Ru’yin’s sadness.

Jian Ru’yin, embarrassed by her public display of emotion, wiped her tears and tried to refuse the gift.

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I don’t need the flower.”

Beauty only amplified her pain now.

But the cat, surprisingly persistent, shook its head, placing the flower firmly on Jian Ru’yin’s lap.

Then, it rummaged through its pockets, pulling out a small packet of tissues and placing it beside the flower.

Jian Ru’yin, unable to refuse such kindness, her tears subsiding, took the flower and the tissues, her voice soft.

“Thank you.”

The cat tilted its head, then, after rummaging through its pockets again, pulled out a small white sign and held it up for Jian Ru’yin to see.

Jian Ru’yin looked down, the elegant handwriting clear in the soft light of the streetlamp.

[Spring will come soon.]

The words pierced her heart, a sudden ache in her chest.

But the pain quickly faded, replaced by a strange sense of hope.

She looked up, about to speak, but the cat, putting away the sign, simply waved and skipped away, disappearing into the night.

Jian Ru’yin watched her go, her gaze following the small, fluffy figure as it ran towards a tree.

A tall figure, dressed in black, a black baseball cap and mask obscuring their face, stood waiting beneath the tree.

As the cat approached, the figure reached out, pulling the cat into a warm embrace, their hand gently stroking its head.

Just then, Jian Ru’yin’s mother returned, holding a bottle of warm water, her gaze falling on Jian Ru’yin’s distant, unfocused stare.

“What’s wrong?”

Jian Ru’yin looked down at the flower and the tissues in her hand.

“Someone gave me a flower. They were so kind.”

Her mother glanced towards the tree, her lips twitching slightly before she spoke.

“They were indeed kind. Look, they’re walking that way. Shall we go for a stroll?”

Jian Ru’yin hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stem of the rose, then nodded, finally agreeing.

She had often visited this park when she was healthier, its small size and familiar paths a comforting presence.

Following the paved path, they rounded a corner, and a small grove of cherry trees came into view.

In spring, the trees would be covered in blossoms, a beautiful sight.

But it was winter now.

The deciduous trees were bare, their branches reaching towards the sky, waiting for the warmth of spring.

Jian Ru’yin didn’t understand why her mother had brought her here, especially on such a cold day.

Then, as they rounded the corner, entering the small grove, Jian Ru’yin, looking down at the bright red rose in her hand, felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a strange energy in the air.

And a cacophony of sounds, voices chattering, cameras clicking, people rushing towards them.

Confused, she looked up.

And as she saw the scene before her, she was stunned, her surprise even greater than when the cat had given her the flower.

Because spring had arrived.

The cherry trees, their branches usually bare in winter, were now covered in blossoms.

Red, pink, white, roses, camellias, a riot of color, tied to the branches with green ribbons, transforming the bare trees into a magical, otherworldly spectacle.

The colorful blossoms, illuminated by the park lights, swayed gently in the breeze, a sea of flowers stretching as far as the eye could see.

Jian Ru’yin sat there, her eyes shining brighter than the neon lights, the sweet fragrance of the flowers filling the air, her heart swelling with a sudden joy, as if she had been transported to spring.

And then she saw the person in the cat costume again, her gaze drawn to the small, fluffy figure amidst the crowd.

The cat stood beneath a tree, the tall, black-clad figure beside her.

Sensing Jian Ru’yin’s gaze, the cat stood on tiptoe, waving excitedly, then bent down and picked up a neon sign, holding it up for Jian Ru’yin to see.

[Let’s come see the flowers together next year.]

Tears streamed down Jian Ru’yin’s face.

And as she cried, the cat handed the sign to the person in black and ran towards her, its movements clumsy and unsteady, almost stumbling.

The figure in black reached out instinctively, as if to catch her, then, seeing that she was okay, stood there, watching her approach.

The cat, weaving through the crowd, its fluffy white fur a stark contrast to the dark winter coats of the other visitors, finally reached Jian Ru’yin and bent down, its breath coming in short gasps, lifting the head of the costume.

Xin Yao’s face, slightly flushed and damp with sweat, her hair a little messy, was revealed in the soft light, her smile bright and warm.

And the gentle breeze she brought with her, the scent of spring, washed over Jian Ru’yin, like a swarm of butterflies, their wings brushing against her skin, their beauty a balm for her wounded heart.

Tears streamed down Jian Ru’yin’s face, her voice a choked whisper. “Jiejie Xin Yao…”

Seeing the young woman’s tearful eyes, Xin Yao’s own heart ached.

The falling tear, like a raindrop, splashed onto Xin Yao’s cheek, triggering a memory—

Crash!

A glass shattered on the floor.

A thin, frail girl, her voice filled with despair, had cried out, “Jiejie! I don’t want to live anymore! I’m just a burden! Let me go!”

Xin Yao, her usual good nature replaced by a sudden anger, had grabbed her by the collar.

“Xin Ruyue! Are you crazy?! How can you say such things?!”

Xin Ruyue had clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry, Jiejie! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, A Yue! You’re sick! Why are you apologizing?” Xin Yao had held her close, her voice gentle. “It’ll be okay. Just hold on a little longer. You’ll get better.”

The tears in her memory mingled with the tears in Jian Ru’yin’s eyes, then, as reality reasserted itself, the memory faded, replaced by Jian Ru’yin’s tear-streaked face.

Xin Yao smiled gently, wiping away her tears.

“Winter isn’t forever. It will pass.”

“Just hold on a little longer. Go back to the hospital, take your medicine, and get better. Spring will come.”

“And next spring, we’ll come see the real flowers together.”

Jian Ru’yin nodded, her sobs intensifying.

Her mother, standing behind her, also on the verge of tears, was relieved. Her daughter, so sensible, so strong, had finally agreed to return to the hospital.

It wasn’t that Jian Ru’yin had suddenly changed her mind. It was this moment, this unexpected miracle, that had given her hope.

She had simply written a letter, expressing her feelings, offering a few words of encouragement.

And her favorite celebrity had come to her, in the middle of the night, bringing her a taste of spring.

Even if it was just for tonight, even if it was just this small, artificial spring, it was enough to give her the strength to keep fighting.

Xin Yao, understanding her thoughts, smiled and shook her head.

“Your words meant a lot to me. They were like a ray of sunshine in my darkness.”

Xin Yao’s understanding of the entertainment industry had been superficial.

She had thought that actors simply acted, and idols simply sang and danced.

But now, she realized it was more than that.

Standing on stage, or in front of the camera, loved and admired by so many, their adoration a source of strength and inspiration, she wanted to give back, to share her light with those who had given her so much.

That was the true meaning of fame, of being in the spotlight.

The original Xin Yao, who had helped Jian Ru’yin up at the fan meeting, had also been a kind and compassionate person, remembering the young girl who had almost cried from embarrassment.

So, when she received Jian Ru’yin’s letter, she had known she had to do something.

Fortunately, the letter had included an address, and Jian Ru’yin lived nearby. They had easily contacted her family.

And learning that Jian Ru’yin was refusing further treatment, Xin Yao had offered to visit her.

Jian Ru’yin’s family, desperate, and knowing how much she admired Xin Yao, had agreed.

Then, Xin Yao had contacted Liu Nuan Nuan, asking for help in creating this temporary spring.

It was Xin Yao’s gift to Jian Ru’yin, a small miracle she had performed with all her heart.

Jian Ru’yin looked at the beautiful flowers, wiping away her tears.

“Thank you, Jiejie Xin Yao! I will! I’ll take my medicine and get better! I’ll keep fighting!”

“And next spring, we’ll come see the flowers together.”

Xin Yao smiled and nodded. “Yes!”

Xu Jingyu, dressed in black, her face hidden behind a mask, stood beneath a nearby tree, watching as Xin Yao bent down, her smile warm and gentle, talking to the young woman.

The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated her face, her eyes shining with a gentle light.

How could Xu Jingyu not be captivated by such a sight?

She had been touched by Xin Yao’s warmth and kindness countless times, and she cherished her smile, her gentle nature, everything about her.

But sometimes, she wished Xin Yao wasn’t so kind, so generous with her affection.

Because that smile was too precious, too beautiful to be shared with others.

She often wondered: Why can’t that smile be just for me? If only I could keep it all to myself.

But such thoughts were dangerous, a possessive darkness she had to keep hidden, a secret Xin Yao couldn’t know.

As the night drew to a close, the temporary spring dismantled, and Jian Ru’yin, her heart filled with hope, returned home with her mother, Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu finally remembered they hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

It was late, so they opted for a simple meal.

They sat at a small wonton stall by the side of the road, the street quiet and deserted, the warm glow of the streetlights illuminating their faces.

Xin Yao, having discarded her cat costume in the car, eagerly stirred her wonton soup, the steam rising to meet her face, then took a sip.

The warm broth and the savory filling filled her mouth, a comforting warmth spreading through her body.

She swallowed, then spoke, her voice slightly apologetic.

“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. I completely forgot about dinner.”

Xu Jingyu shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. And I should be thanking you.”

“My life is so dull and predictable. I wake up at 6 am every day, eat at 6 pm, like a machine.”

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t experience such interesting things.”

“Hmm?” Xin Yao tilted her head, looking at her. “Eating dinner this late is interesting?”

“Perhaps you find it strange, but it is,” Xu Jingyu’s eyes softened. “Eating this late, at a small street stall, it’s different, unconventional.”

“It’s… life. Real life.”

“Since meeting you, I’ve finally started living, experiencing the world.”

“Ooh,” Xin Yao drawled, teasing her gently. “Xu Jingyu, you’re getting quite good at this whole romantic thing!”

Xu Jingyu thought for a moment. “I don’t think I can compete with you.”

“Okay,” Xin Yao smiled. “Then, as a reward for my romantic efforts, I’m having another bowl!”

“Grandma, one more bowl of wontons, please!”

The elderly woman running the stall smiled, her voice cheerful.

“Coming right up!”

They sat there, huddled together at the small table, the warm light illuminating their faces, the steam from their wonton bowls rising to meet them, their shared meal a simple yet intimate moment.

The next morning…

Xin Yao woke up in a good mood, having received a message from Jian Ru’yin’s mother. Jian Ru’yin had agreed to return to the hospital for treatment.

Xin Yao, of course, would cover the expenses. She just wanted Jian Ru’yin to focus on getting better.

So, as she got ready for work, a smile played on her lips.

Just as she stepped out of her room, she saw Xu Jingyu walking towards her.

Dressed in black, her long hair pulled back in a high ponytail, her expression cool and aloof, her aura powerful and intimidating, she looked stunning in the morning light.

My girlfriend is so beautiful, Xin Yao thought.

But Xu Jingyu seemed to be heading straight towards her, and as she reached Xin Yao, she grabbed her wrist, taking her phone and putting it in her own pocket.

Xin Yao: “Hey, what are you doing with my pho…?”

Xu Jingyu’s fingers tightened around her wrist, then slid down, intertwining their fingers, her hand warm and firm in Xin Yao’s.

“Let’s go out.”

Xin Yao: “Huh?”

She was surprised, twice in the span of a minute.

“So suddenly? Where? What are we doing? We have to film today. The director didn’t say anything about a day off.”

Xu Jingyu, already pulling her towards the elevators, replied, “I’ve already spoken to Director Gao.”

“And she agreed?”

“I informed her.”

This woman was so domineering!

Chapter 51 p2

Just as Lu Duanjing was about to ask what was wrong, one of the children suddenly knelt down and bowed, his forehead touching the ground.

It was a gesture he had often used while begging, a desperate plea for food, a gesture that often earned him nothing but a kick from some uncaring passerby.

But today, this kind lady had given them meat! He had to show his gratitude!

The other children, mimicking his actions, also knelt down, their foreheads touching the ground, their small bodies bowing repeatedly.

Lu Duanjing, startled, rushed to help them up.

“What are you doing?!”

But they continued to kowtow, even the two women looking at her with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Seeing their unwavering devotion, Lu Duanjing, unable to stop them, clenched her fists, her voice slightly raised.

“Stop bowing!”

Thinking she was angry, the children froze, their movements ceasing.

Lu Duanjing walked over to them, helping them up, one by one.

“We’re all equal. No one bows to anyone here. Don’t bow to me, and don’t bow to the heavens. Stand tall and live for yourselves.”

One of the little girls, her eyes filled with tears, said, “Niang Niang, if I grow up, I’ll earn lots of money and repay you.” [Niang Niang – a term of respect for a queen or goddess]

Lu Duanjing’s eyes reddened slightly. Even these children, so young, knew that their lives were precarious.

“You will grow up,” Lu Duanjing said softly, patting the little girl’s shoulder, then, wanting to change the subject, she asked, “But why do you call me ‘Niang Niang’?”

Her question sparked a flurry of responses.

“Because you’re like a goddess!”

“You’re even better than a goddess! You give us food and a place to live!”

“Because you’re the kindest person in the world!”

“I’ll definitely repay you someday!”

Their words, their innocent gratitude, made Lu Duanjing’s heart ache. She knelt down, looking at their small faces.

“Don’t call me ‘Niang Niang.’ Call me ‘Lu Jiejie.’” [Older Sister]

“And I’ll make sure you have meat every week. You don’t have to repay me.”

Her words made the children exchange confused glances. If they didn’t have to repay her, then they were useless. What could they do?

Seeing their expressions, Lu Duanjing thought for a moment.

“If you really want to repay me, then…”

She smiled, her expression gentle in the soft light.

“Then study hard. Learn everything you can.”

It was then that Wen Sigu arrived.

She had helped Lu Duanjing set up the orphanage, finding the location and providing support.

After all, as the Lu family’s eldest daughter, Lu Duanjing couldn’t be seen venturing into the slums too often.

Now that the orphanage was running smoothly, she had come to visit, but a last-minute errand had delayed her.

As she arrived, the evening sun casting long shadows, she saw Lu Duanjing, her smile warm and encouraging, urging the children to study hard, to change their lives.

She stood there, bathed in the golden light, her presence radiating a quiet strength and beauty.

Wen Sigu’s heart skipped a beat, her gaze fixed on Lu Duanjing’s face.

They didn’t leave until late, walking side by side through the narrow alley near the orphanage, Lu Duanjing still buzzing with excitement, her usual quiet demeanor replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“I never realized how difficult it was to simply survive. I always thought my life was hard, but I’m actually so fortunate.”

“I can’t just provide for these children. I can’t support them forever. I have to teach them, give them the knowledge and skills they need to survive.”

“I can’t be here all the time, so I’ve asked my cousin to help, to teach them how to read and write. And later, when they’ve learned more, we’ll hire a teacher.”

“You wouldn’t believe how eager she is to learn! She comes to me every day for lessons!”

“She’ll be so surprised! And so happy! She’ll probably think, ‘Wow, I, Zheng Qiu Yan, can actually be a teacher!’”

“I can’t wait to see her face!”

As Lu Duanjing chattered excitedly, Wen Sigu listened patiently, her eyes soft and warm, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Lu Duanjing continued, ticking off her plans on her fingers.

“There’s so much to do! Selling my jewelry isn’t a long-term solution.”

“I think I need to find a source of income. I’m thinking of opening a small shop in the city. I can’t believe I’m actually starting a business without my father’s permission!”

“Sigu, you’ve inspired me so much!”

She looked up at Wen Sigu, her eyes shining with excitement.

And in that moment, their gazes met.

Wen Sigu’s eyes, soft and warm in the orange glow of the setting sun, were fixed on Lu Duanjing’s face, their intensity making Lu Duanjing’s heart race.

Lu Duanjing, flustered by her gaze, looked down, her cheeks burning.

They walked in silence, the setting sun casting long shadows, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.

Wen Sigu’s fingers, hidden in the folds of her skirt, twitched, then retreated.

She hesitated, her palms sweating, then, finally finding her courage, she gently brushed her pinky finger against Lu Duanjing’s.

Lu Duanjing didn’t pull away!

Emboldened, Wen Sigu’s fingers intertwined with hers, their hands clasped together, their palms warm and slightly damp.

They walked in silence, their gazes fixed on the path ahead, their joined hands a silent language.

Wen Sigu, usually so rational and composed, looked up at the sky, at the narrow alley stretching before them, a childish wish forming in her heart.

She wished the alley was longer.

Because when they reached the end, they would have to part ways.

The scene had been filmed during the golden hour, the last rays of sunlight painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

Director Gao, a perfectionist, had insisted on multiple takes, pushing the crew to their limits, finally finishing just before nightfall.

As the light faded, the world was bathed in a soft, blue twilight.

Xu Jingyu, stepping out of the car, was about to go find Xin Yao when Xue Ning, her agent, approached her.

“Ms. Xu, your fans are here. They arranged a visit a few days ago. They’ve come a long way. Would you mind seeing them?”

Director Gao’s strict rules were well-known. No visitors were allowed on set before the film was completed. It was practically a closed set.

Paparazzi were strictly forbidden, and even fans were discouraged from visiting.

And Xu Jingyu, notoriously reclusive, rarely interacted with her fans, avoiding interviews, variety shows, and fan meetings.

So, this rare opportunity for a fan visit had been highly anticipated.

While Xu Jingyu wasn’t exactly known for her warmth and approachability, she couldn’t refuse.

She looked at Xin Yao, about to say something.

But Xin Yao spoke first, smiling gently. “Go ahead, Ms. Xu. I’ll go remove my makeup. We can meet in the dressing room later, and then have dinner together, okay?”

Xu Jingyu, after a moment’s thought, nodded and went to meet her fans.

Xin Yao returned to her dressing room alone.

Just as she sat down, Chen Jia knocked on the door, her head poking inside.

She glanced at Xin Yao’s face, her gaze hesitant.

After all, Ms. Xu had fans visiting her, while Xin Yao didn’t. It was bound to make her feel a little down.

Seeing her assistant’s concerned expression, Xin Yao smiled.

“Don’t worry. Maybe one day I’ll be famous too! Then I’ll have lots of fans visiting me!”

Seeing her positive attitude, Chen Jia relaxed.

“It’s not like no one cares about you. We received a fan letter today!”

“Huh?” Xin Yao, surprised, her earlier good mood momentarily forgotten, “A fan letter? For me?”

“Yes!” Chen Jia nodded.

After the recent scandal, many of her fans had abandoned her, and the few letters they received were usually filled with hate.

Worried that this one might be the same, Chen Jia had opened it first, her heart aching as she read it. She had decided to give it to Xin Yao anyway.

Xin Yao took the letter, assuming it was a message of encouragement.

But as she opened it, she froze, her eyes scanning the elegant handwriting.

[Dear Sister Xin Yao,

I don’t think I’ll see spring again.

I’m very sick, so sick that my parents cry every time they see me.

Lately, my mother has been crying even more, and the pain has gotten worse. I know I’m probably going to die soon.

I really wanted to see spring again.

Because that’s when I met you, Sister Xin Yao.

I wasn’t sick back then. I went to a film set with my friend, to see her favorite celebrity.

There were so many people, and I don’t like crowds. I got separated from my friend and felt so lost and alone.

And then I bumped into someone, spilling coffee all over myself, and I fell, right in front of the celebrity, in front of everyone. It was so embarrassing.

It was the most humiliating moment of my life.

Everyone was staring at me, but you came over, helped me up, and gave me your coat, asking gently, “Are you okay?”

It was a long time ago, and you probably don’t remember me.

But for me, so lost and alone at the time, it was like a ray of sunshine, making that spring day so beautiful.

So, when I saw the news online, I didn’t believe it. You’re not that kind of person, Sister Xin Yao.

But my voice is too small, and no one believed me.

And I don’t have much time left. I thought I should at least tell you.

Sister Xin Yao, there are people in this world who believe in you. Please don’t give up.

I’ll always love you, until the very end.

—A devoted fan]

The letter wasn’t long, but Xin Yao read it several times, her mind still reeling from its contents long after she had finished.

Xu Jingyu, having finished meeting her fans, returned to Xin Yao’s dressing room, but she didn’t see her.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard a sound behind her.

She was about to turn around when she felt something hard pressed against her lower back.

Slowly, she turned her head, a smile playing on her lips.

Standing behind her was a person in a white cat costume, its fluffy fur and small size making it look like a cuddly kitten.

And the kitten was holding a plastic gun, its barrel pressed against Xu Jingyu’s back, its voice a playful growl.

“Don’t move! You’ve been captured by the Cat Bandit!”

Xu Jingyu raised her hands in mock surrender.

“I give up.”

Huh?

The Cat Bandit, slightly disappointed, lowered its gun.

“That’s no fun. Why did you give up so easily?”

“Because,” Xu Jingyu lowered her hands, “I was captivated from the moment I saw you.”

She walked towards the Cat Bandit and lifted the head of the costume.

As expected, it was Xin Yao, her hair slightly disheveled.

Xu Jingyu, unable to resist, leaned down and kissed her, her eyes soft and warm.

“What’s this about? Why are you wearing that?”

Xin Yao didn’t answer directly.

She put the cat head back on.

“Come with me. You’ll see.”

“Where are we going?” Xu Jingyu asked.

Xin Yao took her hand, leading her out of the dressing room.

“Hmm…”

“To see spring, perhaps.”

Chapter 51 p1

Xin Yao took off her creamy white fleece pajamas and lay naked on the bed, her skin exposed to the air.

Her dark hair cascaded around her, her body nestled in the soft bedding, her legs slightly bent, a subtly alluring pose. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the white sheets, glowing like warm milk in the dim light.

Beside her, the soft rustling of fabric against skin echoed through the room as Xu Jingyu undressed, the sound barely audible, yet amplified by the quiet intimacy of the moment, the dim light, and Xin Yao’s racing heart.

Her eyelashes fluttered nervously, her fingers gripping the sheets, wrinkling the fabric.

Her eyes, shimmering with a soft light, like a pool of spring water, held a mix of vulnerability and allure.

The rustling stopped.

Xu Jingyu had been wearing only a thin white nightgown.

Xin Yao’s gaze, hesitant yet curious, fell upon her, her face flushing crimson as she bit her lip, her grip on the sheets tightening.

Her eyes softened, her body relaxing slightly as she took in the sight before her.

Xu Jingyu knelt on the bed beside her, also naked, her long black hair cascading around her, her skin even paler than Xin Yao’s, her body a work of art, her curves and angles illuminated by the soft light.

The light traced the delicate lines of her face, her elegant collarbone, the smooth skin of her stomach, her long, slender legs.

She looked less like a real person and more like a breathtaking sculpture.

And Xu Jingyu, her personality naturally dominant, her gaze intense even as she lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes casting shadows that made her eyes seem even darker, her silent scrutiny like a physical touch, a possessive caress that made Xin Yao’s heart pound.

And the desire in her eyes, like a smoldering flame, threatened to consume Xin Yao whole.

Her girlfriend, in this moment, had become a dangerous predator.

The thought made Xin Yao even more nervous. She shyly turned her head away, the curve of her neck a graceful arc in the warm air, her teeth gently biting her lip.

The predator, sensing her prey’s unease, leaned closer, one hand resting on the bed beside Xin Yao’s head, the other gently tilting her chin up.

Her voice, cool and clear yet slightly husky, was a sensual whisper.

“Yaoyao, look at me. Don’t hide.”

Xin Yao, her chin held captive, turned her head, her gaze meeting Xu Jingyu’s.

Her eyes, dark and intense, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon, made Xin Yao’s heart race.

She parted her lips, wanting to speak, but her throat was dry, the words catching in her throat.

Xu Jingyu’s gaze softened slightly.

“Don’t be afraid.”

And then it began.

Xu Jingyu’s fingertip, cool and smooth like jade, traced Xin Yao’s lips, the delicate touch making her moan softly.

The sound made Xu Jingyu’s eyes darken, but she didn’t push further.

Her fingertip continued its exploration, sliding down Xin Yao’s chin to her neck.

The room was still warm, and Xu Jingyu’s touch, like a burning ember, sent shivers down Xin Yao’s spine, her skin tingling with pleasure.

She instinctively arched her neck, her throat tightening.

Her involuntary response made Xu Jingyu smile, her amusement a silent sound, a sensual vibration in the quiet room.

Xu Jingyu’s finger continued its descent, tracing Xin Yao’s collarbone, the curve of her breasts, her skin flushed with a delicate pink.

Xin Yao shivered, her legs pressing together, her hand reaching out to capture Xu Jingyu’s wandering finger. She opened her eyes, their depths shimmering with a mix of desire and vulnerability, her gaze soft and pleading.

Xu Jingyu’s eyes darkened.

Xin Yao’s gaze held hers, a silent plea in her eyes.

After a brief moment, Xin Yao released Xu Jingyu’s finger, her resolve crumbling beneath the other woman’s intense gaze.

Xu Jingyu’s touch continued its exploration, her fingers tracing Xin Yao’s arm, then her wrist, her touch lingering, her fingers gently caressing the delicate skin.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she began to intertwine their fingers, her touch a gentle tease, her movements slow and deliberate, as if wanting Xin Yao to savor every sensation, the warmth of their joined hands, the subtle friction of their skin against each other.

Her fingers slid between Xin Yao’s, then closed around her hand, their fingers intertwined, their palms pressed together.

The sensual torture ended with their hands clasped together, the simple gesture strangely intimate, making Xin Yao’s heart pound.

And then, Xu Jingyu leaned closer, their bodies pressing together, inch by inch.

The cool, pale skin of her arm against Xin Yao’s warm flesh, their shoulders touching, their chests rising and falling in unison, their legs intertwined.

They were like two flowers, their colors different yet complementary, their petals intertwined, their bodies pressed together, bare and vulnerable.

The warmth of their joined bodies, the shared intimacy of the moment, made Xu Jingyu sigh with pleasure, a soft moan escaping Xin Yao’s lips.

But in their close embrace, Xin Yao could feel every detail of Xu Jingyu’s body, the smooth texture of her skin, the gentle caress of her touch, the warmth radiating from her.

Like warm milk, soothing and comforting, yet also a heavy, possessive weight.

She felt Xu Jingyu’s weight, her strength, her gentleness.

And her excitement, her rapid breathing against Xin Yao’s ear.

Xin Yao’s fingers trembled, her eyelids fluttering.

And in that moment, their hearts beat as one.

Thump, thump.

The sound of their heartbeats, synchronized and echoing in the quiet room, was a testament to their unspoken love.

Xin Yao’s hand, still clasped in Xu Jingyu’s, her other arm wrapped around her back, her eyes closed, savoring the moment.

She finally understood Xu Jingyu’s obsession with touch.

Xu Jingyu, her face buried in the curve of Xin Yao’s neck, her breathing becoming more rapid with each passing moment, her excitement palpable.

But despite their close embrace, she didn’t move, her body still, her touch gentle.

As if she had only wanted to hold Xin Yao, nothing more.

Really? Xin Yao wondered.

She waited, but Xu Jingyu, while pressing even closer, still didn’t make a move.

Xin Yao, her arm still around Xu Jingyu’s back, looked at her beautiful profile.

Then, she leaned closer and gently nipped at Xu Jingyu’s earlobe, her breath warm against her skin.

“Xu Jingyu, are you really just planning to cuddle tonight?”

A beat of silence.

Xu Jingyu slowly lifted her head, her hand bracing against the bed as she looked at Xin Yao.

Xin Yao looked up, her gaze meeting Xu Jingyu’s, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity in her eyes.

In the dim light, Xu Jingyu’s eyes were even darker, more intense than before, like burning embers.

“Is that okay?” she asked, her voice husky and low, a dangerous sensuality in its depths. “It’s only our first day together. Isn’t this a bit too fast?”

Xin Yao paused, then reached out and gently caressed Xu Jingyu’s face, wiping away a bead of sweat from her forehead.

“Since when did Xu Jingyu become so hesitant?”

Xu Jingyu’s fingers tightened around Xin Yao’s hand, her face nuzzling against Xin Yao’s palm.

“I’m afraid you’ll dislike me.”

Your suggestion of cuddling was already bold enough, Xin Yao thought.

But she didn’t say it. Instead, she gently caressed Xu Jingyu’s face, her gaze soft and loving, then leaned forward and kissed her.

In this moment of closeness, they needed this kiss, this shared intimacy.

And then, they should be even closer, their bodies and souls intertwined.

But half an hour later, Xin Yao regretted her decision.

They weren’t cuddling anymore.

She sat propped up against the headboard, her legs draped over Xu Jingyu’s shoulders, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips pressed together, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Then, she covered her mouth with her hand, her mind reeling.

After a long moment, she recovered, her legs kicking against Xu Jingyu’s body, her hands pushing against her chest, trying to escape.

Xu Jingyu’s hand tightened around her thigh, her fingers pressing into her soft flesh.

She looked up at Xin Yao, her lips glistening in the soft light, her fingers tightening their grip, her touch both gentle and firm.

“Don’t,” Xin Yao whispered, her voice barely audible.

And in that moment, she finally understood the true extent of Xu Jingyu’s unrestrained desire, her insatiable hunger for touch.

For the past half hour, Xu Jingyu had been licking her, exploring every inch of her skin with her tongue, her touch both gentle and demanding, a sensual torture that had left Xin Yao breathless and wanting to escape even before they had begun.

Xu Jingyu pulled her closer, her lips finding Xin Yao’s in a deep, possessive kiss.

All her pent-up desire, her unspoken love, was unleashed in that kiss, Xin Yao’s arms wrapping around her neck, her body surrendering to the other woman’s embrace.

But Xu Jingyu’s kiss was too fierce, too demanding, her tongue exploring Xin Yao’s mouth with a hungry urgency that left Xin Yao breathless.

Just as she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, her fingers digging into Xu Jingyu’s back, her legs tightening around her waist, her body trembling, she reached her peak, her body convulsing, then relaxing, her strength fading.

Xu Jingyu held her close, her eyes, still filled with desire, now also shining with a soft, warm light, her lips brushing against Xin Yao’s.

“Yaoyao,” she murmured, her voice soft, “I’m yours.”

Xin Yao, her body still trembling, her eyes shimmering with tears, clung to Xu Jingyu, her voice a soft whisper.

“And I’m yours.”

Her words were tender, but her actions weren’t.

Perhaps because of her insatiable need for touch, Xu Jingyu’s possessiveness seemed even stronger than before.

During their lovemaking, Xin Yao wasn’t even allowed to look away, her gaze held captive by Xu Jingyu’s intense stare, her every thought, every sensation, focused solely on the woman before her.

Her body, her mind, her soul, all consumed by Xu Jingyu.

If her attention wandered, even for a moment, Xu Jingyu would pull her back, her touch becoming more demanding, more insistent.

It was both infuriating and exhilarating, Xin Yao’s protests eventually turning into soft pleas and whispered moans.

But her tears only fueled Xu Jingyu’s passion.

Finally, seeing Xin Yao’s exhaustion, she relented.

She carried her to the bathroom, gently washing her body, then tucked her into bed, Xin Yao’s eyelids already drooping.

Xin Yao, looking at Xu Jingyu, still naked and lying beside her, her body warm against Xin Yao’s, gathered her remaining strength and bit Xu Jingyu’s neck.

“You beast,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Xu Jingyu chuckled, not denying the accusation, her hand gently stroking Xin Yao’s back.

“Mm-hmm. I love you.”

Their relationship, escalating so quickly, so intensely, on their first day together, might have seemed too fast, too bold.

But Xin Yao had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime, and Xu Jingyu, always a woman of action, didn’t believe in holding back.

The only problem, from Xin Yao’s perspective, was that Xu Jingyu, having opened that door, could no longer control herself, wanting to be close to Xin Yao every night.

And her idea of closeness wasn’t just cuddling. She would keep Xin Yao awake until the early hours of the morning, her demands relentless.

So, Xin Yao often refused, her resistance both playful and firm.

But Xu Jingyu, always resourceful, had learned to use her vulnerability to her advantage.

She wouldn’t say anything, simply standing there, her eyes lowered, her expression slightly forlorn.

And Xin Yao, unable to resist her pitiful appearance, would often relent.

Until one morning, covered in love bites, she finally realized she had fallen into Xu Jingyu’s trap.

And she had promptly kicked her out of bed.

As their relationship progressed, the blizzard finally ended, the sun returning, its warmth melting the snow.

Their short vacation was over, and both productions prepared to resume filming.

So, the night before, Xin Yao had firmly refused Xu Jingyu’s advances, going to bed early.

The next morning, refreshed and energized, she went to the set alone.

When she arrived, Xu Jingyu was already there, her makeup and costume done.

Xin Yao walked towards her, deliberately maintaining a professional distance, her voice polite and slightly formal.

“Good morning, Ms. Xu.”

Xu Jingyu raised an eyebrow, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Good morning, Ms. Xin.”

They had almost slept together last night, yet now, in public, they were pretending to be strangers.

Only they knew the hidden intimacy beneath their professional facade.

But they didn’t have much time for small talk. The crew, after their long break, was eager to resume filming.

And Xin Yao’s beloved Lu Duanjing’s story continued.

After witnessing the horrors of the slums and recovering from her illness, Lu Duanjing had decided to take action.

She remembered Wen Sigu’s words:

Being small wasn’t a weakness. Even the smallest person could make a difference.

The Lu family had one thing in abundance: money.

While Lu Duanjing wasn’t favored by her father, and her movements were restricted, she was still the eldest daughter of a wealthy family.

Her father had always provided for her generously, showering her with gifts, especially on holidays and birthdays.

She had a large collection of jewelry.

Ironically, she had never had the opportunity to wear any of it, her life confined to the Lu residence.

But now, her unused jewelry had a purpose.

She secretly sold it and used the money to fund an orphanage.

It wasn’t a proper orphanage, just a dilapidated courtyard house she had purchased.

She hired two women from the slums, one to cook and the other to care for the children.

Together, they cleaned and renovated the house, transforming it into a bright, welcoming space.

Then, Lu Duanjing brought the children, orphaned and abandoned, their lives threatened by poverty and hardship, to their new home.

It wasn’t much, but it was a safe haven, a place of refuge.

Their stories were heartbreaking.

Some were so young that they didn’t even understand what it meant to lose their families.

One child, when one of the women had undressed her for a bath, Lu Duanjing assisting, had startled Lu Duanjing.

The little girl’s toes were gone.

Seeing Lu Duanjing’s horrified expression, the woman had quickly explained.

“Don’t worry, Miss. It’s normal. It gets so cold in the winter. Some children lose their fingers and toes to frostbite. We have to cut them off to prevent the frostbite from spreading. Otherwise, they might lose their entire foot, or even their leg.”

“It’s normal, Miss. Really.”

Normal?

How could that be normal?

Lu Duanjing had been stunned.

Seeing the woman’s matter-of-fact tone, she had hesitantly asked, “Did your child also…?”

The woman had been silent for a long time, then she had chuckled softly.

“My son… he didn’t survive last winter.”

He had frozen to death, in her arms.

Every winter was a struggle for survival in the slums.

Lu Duanjing, standing there in the warm afternoon sunlight, had felt a chill run down her spine. She had looked at the woman, then at the children playing in the courtyard, her heart aching.

She had always thought of herself as unfortunate, her life confined to the four walls of the Lu residence, her future predetermined, her days a monotonous, unchanging routine.

But now, she realized how fortunate she was, how much she had taken for granted.

At least she didn’t have to worry about surviving the winter.

The wealthy were trapped in their gilded cages.

The poor struggled to survive in the slums.

Everyone, it seemed, carried their own burdens.

After selling two more bracelets, and with the orphanage finally running smoothly, Lu Duanjing decided to celebrate by treating the children and the two women to a special meal.

She planned to make it a weekly tradition, a small luxury they could all look forward to.

So, that morning, she had given the women some money to buy some meat, enough for a simple red braised pork dish.

It wasn’t much, just a small piece of meat, enough for two or three pieces per person.

She hadn’t expected their reaction to be so… intense. Even the two women had been smiling all day, their faces beaming with anticipation.

And the children, their excitement palpable, had been chattering about it since morning.

That evening, as the aroma of the braised pork filled the courtyard, the children gathered around the table, their eyes wide with anticipation.

But they were well-behaved, their gazes fixed on Lu Duanjing, waiting for her permission to eat. Even the two women looked at her expectantly.

Lu Duanjing smiled. “Why are you all looking at me? Eat!”

But the children remained motionless.

Chapter 50 p2

Xu Jingyu followed Xin Yao into the living room, sitting beside her on the sofa.

Meng Wanqing was busy setting up the DVD player.

She had brought some classic horror movies, apparently rare and hard to find.

She didn’t turn around, her back still to them.

Xu Jingyu scooted closer to Xin Yao, their shoulders touching.

The room was warm, the heating on high, and they were both dressed lightly.

Their close proximity, the warmth of their bodies through their thin clothes, made the air between them crackle with tension.

Xin Yao’s fingers, resting on her lap, twitched nervously.

Xu Jingyu reached out, her long, slender fingers, their nails neatly trimmed and rounded, brushing against Xin Yao’s.

Then, slowly, her fingers slid into Xin Yao’s palm, intertwining their fingers.

Xu Jingyu’s hand was larger than Xin Yao’s, her palm warm and slightly sweaty, enveloping Xin Yao’s hand completely.

But her fingers trembled slightly, her grip both gentle and firm, a mix of tenderness and possessiveness.

Xin Yao glanced at Xu Jingyu’s beautiful profile, then at Meng Wanqing’s back, and playfully scratched Xu Jingyu’s palm with her fingertip.

As if to say: Meng Wanqing is still here! You’re so bold!

Her playful touch sent a shiver down Xu Jingyu’s spine, her eyelashes fluttering, her lips pressing together as she tightened her grip, reluctant to let go.

Only when Meng Wanqing, having finally chosen a movie, turned around and ran towards them, did they reluctantly separate their hands.

But Meng Wanqing, in her excitement, didn’t notice their intertwined fingers and plopped down between them on the sofa, separating them.

Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu exchanged glances.

Meng Wanqing, oblivious, turned to Xu Jingyu.

“Scoot over! It’s crowded! I have to sit between you two! I feel safer that way.”

Xu Jingyu glanced at Xin Yao, who was smiling wryly, and sighed inwardly.

She wasn’t known for her patience, her cold demeanor usually enough to keep people at bay.

But…

She had been far too lenient with Meng Wanqing, allowing her to live this long.

Perhaps her gaze was a bit too intense, because Meng Wanqing suddenly seemed to remember something.

Oh, right! Xu Jingyu was still pursuing Yaoyao!

She grinned, giving Xu Jingyu a knowing look, then quickly moved to sit beside her, leaving a space between Xu Jingyu and Xin Yao.

Xu Jingyu, after a pointed look at Meng Wanqing, scooted closer to Xin Yao.

As she did, Xin Yao reached out and gently tugged at her finger.

Xu Jingyu’s fingers intertwined with hers, their hands clasped together, their palms warm and slightly sweaty, their touch a mix of comfort and nervousness.

They sat there, their hands hidden beneath the blanket, their secret intimacy a silent language.

Just then, the movie began.

Meng Wanqing, in her infinite wisdom, had chosen a classic horror film, “Hotel Horrors,” its title a chillingly appropriate reflection of Xin Yao’s recent experience.

The movie’s pacing was fast, the first scare coming just minutes into the film.

A sudden, loud sound effect made Xin Yao jump, her body instinctively seeking refuge in Xu Jingyu’s arms.

Xu Jingyu, knowing her fear, held her close, her arms wrapping around Xin Yao’s trembling body.

The feeling of Xin Yao’s warmth against her, her heartbeat against Xu Jingyu’s chest, her complete dependence on Xu Jingyu, was intoxicating.

Xu Jingyu’s breath hitched, her heart pounding.

But just as they embraced, Meng Wanqing, sitting beside them, let out a scream that was even more terrifying than the movie’s sound effects, her voice echoing through the room.

“Ah!!!”

And she, for some reason, had thought that having company would make her less afraid.

She had even brought a large bucket of popcorn.

Now, terrified, her hands flailing wildly, she accidentally knocked the bucket over, sending popcorn flying through the air, raining down on Xu Jingyu and Xin Yao.

The romantic moment was shattered, the sound of Meng Wanqing’s screams drowning out even the movie’s sound effects.

Xin Yao, no longer afraid, simply looked at Xu Jingyu, a bewildered expression on her face.

Xu Jingyu, closer to Meng Wanqing, had borne the brunt of the popcorn explosion, a few kernels even clinging to her hair.

She closed her eyes, her arms still around Xin Yao, her expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.

Then, chaos ensued.

The old horror movie, with its jump scares and creepy atmosphere, was too much for Meng Wanqing, whose screams echoed through the room, her body flailing wildly.

It took both Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu to restrain her, pinning her down on the sofa.

Xu Jingyu, her patience wearing thin, covered Meng Wanqing’s mouth with her hand.

“Shut up!”

Xin Yao, no longer afraid, was now simply embarrassed.

Meng Wanqing’s screams had attracted the attention of the hotel manager, who had knocked on the door, his voice apologetic.

“Miss Xin, could you please keep it down? We’ve received complaints. People are starting to think the hotel is haunted.”

Xin Yao, mortified, apologized profusely.

Back in the room, she glared at Meng Wanqing, ordering her to be quiet.

Xu Jingyu’s cold stare, however, was even more effective than Xin Yao’s scolding.

Meng Wanqing, realizing that Xu Jingyu was a greater threat than any fictional ghost, wisely chose to remain silent.

With the disruptive element subdued, the room returned to normal, the movie’s eerie atmosphere settling over them once more.

A ghostly face flashed on the screen, the door suddenly opening, the ghost confronting the terrified protagonist.

The director’s masterful use of silence, the sudden absence of music, amplified the tension.

Xin Yao, startled, buried her face in Xu Jingyu’s embrace.

And just then, in the eerie silence…

The door to their room, mimicking the scene in the movie, suddenly opened.

Meng Wanqing, terrified, jumped up and ran, her frantic movements sending her crashing into the figure entering the room.

Her vision blurred, her stomach churning, she didn’t even see who it was before bending over and vomiting.

The figure, Xue Ning, whom Xin Yao had invited to join them, looked down at the mess on her clothes, then at Meng Wanqing, her face contorted in disgust.

“Yuck! You disgusting pig!”

“Meng Wanqing, you’re dead! I’m going to kill you!”

The movie night ended abruptly.

Meng Wanqing was dragged away by Xue Ning, presumably to be punished.

With the disruptive element gone, the room fell silent again.

Xin Yao turned off the television, looking at the mess, the popcorn scattered everywhere, the remnants of their movie night more comical than terrifying.

Xu Jingyu, who had been in a foul mood all day, first because of Meng Wanqing’s interruption, then because of the argument with the director, now found herself smiling, Xin Yao’s laughter infectious.

She walked towards Xin Yao, but as she reached her side, she suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Before they were together, she had always been so direct, so uninhibited.

But now, just a few hours into their relationship, she found herself feeling strangely shy and nervous.

Love was a strange thing.

It made the bold timid, and the timid bold.

As she hesitated, Xin Yao reached out and gently tugged at her sleeve, her eyes soft and inviting.

“I’m scared. I can’t sleep alone tonight.”

Xin Yao had said the same thing before, and it had made Xu Jingyu’s heart race.

This time, however, it felt different.

Her heart pounded, her breath catching in her throat, her hand, reaching out to take Xin Yao’s, slightly damp with sweat.

After a moment, she finally spoke, her voice husky.

“I’ll stay with you.”

Later that night, around 11 pm, in Xin Yao’s room…

Xu Jingyu, having arrived earlier, had already showered. They lay side by side in Xin Yao’s bed.

It had been snowing lately, the weather cold, and the heating in the room was on high.

Xin Yao was bundled up in a warm, fluffy pajama set.

Xu Jingyu, however, seemingly impervious to the cold, was wearing a thin, white nightgown, her arms and legs bare, her skin glowing in the soft light, the sight both alluring and slightly indecent.

Xin Yao had been startled when she opened the door, her gaze darting around the room, unsure where to look.

She had simply been scared and had asked Xu Jingyu to stay with her, nothing more.

But Xu Jingyu’s attire, her apparent preparedness, made Xin Yao nervous.

Flustered, she excused herself to get some water.

Xu Jingyu, watching her go, her eyes narrowing slightly, didn’t say anything, simply picking up the remote and turning up the heat.

The soft clicks echoed through the room.

Xin Yao, returning from the kitchen, felt the increased warmth, but it wasn’t unbearable, so she didn’t comment.

But as she got into bed, snuggling beside Xu Jingyu, she saw Xu Jingyu reach for the remote again, turning up the heat even further.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm?” she asked.

Xu Jingyu paused. “I’m a little cold.”

She turned up the heat again.

And you’re wearing that?

Xin Yao muttered under her breath, then, worried that Xu Jingyu might catch a cold, she tucked the blanket more securely around her.

Xu Jingyu smiled, her eyes shimmering like jade in the soft light.

“What are you smiling about?” Xin Yao asked, curious.

Xu Jingyu didn’t answer, simply pulling Xin Yao closer, her arms wrapping around her waist, her leg pressing against Xin Yao’s thigh, her touch warm and clingy.

But the temperature in the room…

While Xu Jingyu might have found it comfortable, Xin Yao, bundled up in her warm pajamas, was starting to feel a little too warm.

Especially with Xu Jingyu’s embrace so tight, her long limbs holding Xin Yao captive, she felt like she was trapped in a warm embrace, her body burning.

A thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead and the back of her neck.

She let out a soft moan, tugging at her collar.

Xu Jingyu, her arms still tightly around Xin Yao, seeing her flushed face, her eyes flickering with a sudden understanding, murmured, “Are you warm? Your clothes are too thick. Why don’t you take them off?”

Her words made Xin Yao realize what was happening. She gently pushed Xu Jingyu away and grabbed the remote.

Seeing the temperature setting, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You turned the heat up to 38 degrees! Of course I’m warm! Why didn’t you just set it to 40?”

Xu Jingyu, lying there, her scheme exposed, simply replied, “That would have been too obvious.”

Xin Yao laughed, pinching Xu Jingyu’s waist playfully. “And this isn’t obvious? What are you up to?”

“I want,” Xu Jingyu captured Xin Yao’s hand, her eyes, dark and intense, fixed on Xin Yao’s face, “to be close to you.”

Close?

Xin Yao blinked. “But we’re already close.”

Xu Jingyu smiled, pulling Xin Yao closer, her lips brushing against her cheek.

Then, her lips close to Xin Yao’s ear, she whispered, “Yaoyao, I have skin hunger. I crave your touch, I crave your closeness, you know that.”

“So, the kind of closeness I’m talking about is skin against skin, flesh against flesh, no barriers, no clothes, just our bodies intertwined, our souls merging.”

“Every inch of our skin touching, our hearts and minds connected.”

She chuckled softly. “How can we be truly close with clothes on?”

She was so close that her breath tickled Xin Yao’s ear, her words even more arousing than her touch.

Xin Yao’s face burned, her heart pounding, her body trembling slightly.

“How can you say such things?!” she exclaimed, pushing Xu Jingyu away, her voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “You’re so shameless!”

“Then,” Xu Jingyu’s eyes, dark and intense, fixed on Xin Yao’s face, “is that a yes?”

Xin Yao hesitated, her lips pressed together, then she finally murmured, “I… suppose so…”

 

Chapter 50 p1

There was a reason Xin Yao rushed off on her first day of being in a relationship, without even properly talking to her girlfriend.

After more than a month of waiting, there was finally a breakthrough in her mission.

Liu Nuan Nuan, the system, after spending countless hours online, had finally managed to arrange a meeting with Ying Xi, the elusive fan club president.

Posing as an important fan in Li Xu’s VIP fan group, Liu Nuan Nuan had created a fuss, claiming that the 1314 T-shirts she had purchased from Li Xu’s brand were all defective.

She demanded a solution, threatening to return the merchandise and expose the issue online.

It was a serious matter, and the fan club administrators rushed to appease her.

Liu Nuan Nuan, seizing the opportunity, insisted on speaking directly with Ying Xi, the president, even flying back to China specifically for the meeting.

After all, Ying Xi was still officially the president of the fan club.

Finally, pressured by Liu Nuan Nuan’s persistence, and wanting to avoid negative publicity, Ying Xi, who had been MIA for months, agreed to the meeting.

They met at a quiet, private cafe in the city center.

Xin Yao arrived first.

Despite her current infamy, she was still a celebrity and didn’t want to be recognized by Ying Xi too early.

So, she was bundled up in a hat, scarf, mask, and sunglasses, despite the warm weather.

Ying Xi arrived shortly after, a soft knock on the door announcing her arrival.

Xin Yao took a sip of her coffee and called out, and the door opened.

A beautiful young woman with long, black hair and a gentle, quiet demeanor entered the room.

But it was clear that she wasn’t doing well. The dark circles under her eyes, her pale face, her slightly dazed expression, all hinted at a deep exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

What had happened to her?

And why had she suddenly disappeared two months ago?

This young woman was Ying Xi, the fan club president Xin Yao and Liu Nuan Nuan had been searching for.

The same Ying Xi who, in Xin Yao’s previous life, had been brutally murdered in a cold, dark alley.

The same Ying Xi who, in this life, might suffer the same fate in just a few weeks.

Ying Xi walked over to the table and sat down opposite Xin Yao, her voice soft and slightly distant.

“Hello, Miss Wang.”

Xin Yao nodded, not bothering with pleasantries, her own voice clear and steady as she pushed the menu towards Ying Xi. “What would you like to drink?”

“Anything is fine,” Ying Xi shook her head, not even glancing at the menu. “I don’t mind.”

She seemed to be barely holding herself together.

So, Xin Yao didn’t get straight to the point, instead making small talk, trying to gauge her emotional state.

Ying Xi, however, seemed distracted, her responses perfunctory, her gaze unfocused, not even questioning Xin Yao’s suspicious attire.

She didn’t seem particularly interested in resolving the issue with the defective merchandise.

She didn’t even recognize Xin Yao, the subject of her online hate, sitting right across from her.

The system cackled.

[You’re officially irrelevant.]

Xin Yao: Nonsense. Even bad publicity is publicity. I could post a single message online and it would go viral.

Xin Yao could easily guess the reason for Ying Xi’s distress.

The original owner had believed she was Li Xu’s only girlfriend, only to be dumped when he found a wealthier, more influential partner.

But Ying Xi’s existence proved that he had been cheating on her all along.

The bastard had been two-timing them, then, after securing his position with the heiress, had discarded them both.

And like the original owner, Ying Xi had probably been unaware of the other woman’s existence, believing herself to be Li Xu’s only girlfriend.

Until the recent scandal, when she had learned the truth about Li Xu’s other relationships.

It must have been devastating for her.

But there had to be more to it than that.

Unlike the distraught Ying Xi, Xin Yao was in a good mood today, eager to finish the meeting and get back to her girlfriend.

Having observed Ying Xi long enough, she decided to drop the pretense.

As Ying Xi sat there, lost in thought, Xin Yao removed her mask, hat, and sunglasses, her long hair cascading down her back, her face revealed in the soft light.

Ying Xi looked at her, then took a sip of her coffee.

They stared at each other in silence, the air thick with tension.

Then, Ying Xi’s eyes widened in recognition, her face paling.

“Xin Yao? It’s you!”

She quickly understood.

“You set me up! You were the one in the group chat, pretending to be that rich fan!”

“This is a trap! What do you want from me? You’re so devious!”

She grabbed her bag and turned to leave, as if wanting to escape.

Xin Yao, who hadn’t even said anything yet, raised an eyebrow, watching her go, then spoke, her voice soft yet firm.

“You know about the fan club’s fundraising activities, right? Do you know what it’s called when you encourage fans to take out loans and invest in your idol? It’s called illegal fundraising.”

“Have you graduated from university yet? Or do you want to stay a student forever?”

Her words, seemingly casual, stopped Ying Xi in her tracks.

She turned around, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

“What are you talking about?!”

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling, her face pale, turning to leave again.

Xin Yao held up her phone.

“Think carefully. Do you want to tell me, or do you want to tell the police?”

“Do you really think I’d be sitting here, so calmly, if I didn’t have proof?”

“Or do you want to go down with Li Xu?”

She did have some evidence.

But Li Xu was cunning and careful, his actions meticulously planned, leaving no trace.

The evidence she and Nuan Nuan had found wasn’t enough to convict him. He would easily weasel his way out.

She needed more, and Ying Xi was the key.

Her words were a bluff, a mix of truth and lies, designed to intimidate Ying Xi.

And Ying Xi, young and naive, her mental state fragile, was easily swayed by Xin Yao’s confident demeanor.

Her forehead beaded with sweat, her fingers clutching the doorknob, turning white.

Finally, she walked back to the table and sat down, defeated.

“What do you want?”

By sitting down, she had implicitly admitted her involvement in the fan club’s illegal activities.

Xin Yao smiled.

But looking at Ying Xi’s pale, exhausted face, she remembered the news report from the original owner’s memories.

This young, beautiful woman had died in a cold, dark alley.

Had it been snowing that day? Xin Yao couldn’t remember.

But it must have been cold.

And there had to be more to Ying Xi’s current state than just the scandal.

Li Xu, having secured his position with the heiress, had wanted to sever all ties with his past, including Ying Xi, who knew too much.

He had dumped her shortly after the news of his affair broke, and to make matters worse, she had just discovered she was pregnant.

The timing matched. The child would be about two months old now.

Xin Yao’s eyes softened with a touch of sadness.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you? Li Xu’s child?”

Ying Xi, still reeling from the shock of being exposed, looked up at Xin Yao, her face paling further.

She was speechless.

But Xin Yao’s words had been a statement, not a question, her certainty leaving no room for denial.

But she hadn’t told anyone!

Ying Xi finally found her voice.

“How did you know? What do you want from me?!”

Xin Yao sighed. “How I know isn’t important. The question is, does Li Xu know you’re pregnant?”

“You’ve broken up, haven’t you? Do you think he’ll let you keep the child?”

“Of course he will!” Ying Xi, tormented by Li Xu’s betrayal, their breakup, and her unexpected pregnancy, had forgotten to ask how Xin Yao knew about their relationship. Tears welled up in her eyes, her voice defiant. “I told him! He said he’ll marry me!”

Still believing Li Xu at this point?

Xin Yao sighed. “You’re so naive.”

Ying Xi’s tears spilled over, her voice choked with emotion.

“Naive? You have no right to call me naive! You’re the other woman! If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have broken up with me!”

“Firstly,” Xin Yao raised an eyebrow, “I’m also a victim in this. Don’t direct your anger at another woman who’s been hurt. Blame the man who cheated on both of us.”

“Secondly, while it’s not necessary to establish a timeline, it might be helpful. I started dating Li Xu six years ago. What about you?”

“You’re a junior in university, 21 years old. Six years ago, you were 15. Li Xu hadn’t even debuted yet. You didn’t even know him, did you?”

Xin Yao’s words stunned Ying Xi into silence.

Like many others, she had believed Li Xu’s lies, thinking Xin Yao was the one pursuing him.

She had thought she was the famous actor’s only girlfriend.

And now Xin Yao was telling her they had been together for six years?

What?

Ying Xi’s expression faltered. She had hated Xin Yao, and now she realized she was the one who had interfered in their relationship?

And she had been accusing Xin Yao? How dare she?

Xin Yao, seeing her distraught expression, shook her head.

“He’s been two-timing us all along, using me for connections, using you for money. Now that he has Mo Yuwei, he has both, so he’s discarding us both.”

“How pathetic.”

“I’m not letting him get away with this. And I need your help. You must have some evidence that could ruin him, don’t you?”

Xin Yao’s words made Ying Xi’s mind race, her emotions a tangled mess of love and hate. She wanted to refuse, but before she could speak, Xin Yao lifted her sleeve, revealing the scar on her wrist.

In the dim light of the cafe, the scar, long and deep, was a stark reminder of her pain.

Ying Xi’s eyes widened in shock.

Xin Yao’s voice was calm and even.

“Li Xu tried to kill me.”

“He knew I was emotionally vulnerable, so he pressured me, hoping I would kill myself. He could do that to me, after all these years, do you really think he’ll spare you?”

“If the fan club’s illegal activities are exposed, he’ll throw you under the bus. Just like he dumped me after finding a richer girlfriend. He discards people he no longer needs.”

“But now, with a child, you’re even more of a threat to his image, his career, his future.”

“So, he won’t just try to kill me. He’ll try to kill you too.”

Xin Yao leaned closer, her eyes, their black and white contrast stark, fixed on Ying Xi’s face.

“Why should we die, while he gets to live?”

The scar on Xin Yao’s wrist, and her words, had terrified Ying Xi.

She had simply fallen in love with the wrong person. How had it escalated to murder?

Compared to this, her unexpected pregnancy seemed insignificant.

This was a society ruled by law. How could Li Xu do such a thing? How dare he?!

Xin Yao, seeing her disbelief, leaned back in her chair, a cold smile playing on her lips.

“Li Xu is a monster. He’s capable of anything to get ahead.”

“Ying Xi,” she sighed, “you can recover from a broken heart, but some mistakes are irreversible. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away.”

“Do you think I’m making this up? I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know something.”

“Ying Xi, the night is dangerous. And dark alleys, without lights or cameras, are even more dangerous. One day, you’ll notice that the streetlights and security cameras in the alley near your home are broken.”

She grabbed Ying Xi’s hand, pressing her business card into her palm.

“My contact information. Call me then. It’s not too late.”

Ying Xi stared at the business card, tears streaming down her face, her lips trembling.

It was still early, only 10:30 am, when Xin Yao left the cafe.

The meeting had left her feeling uneasy.

But as she stepped outside, the fresh snow crunching beneath her feet, she thought of the previous night, of Xu Jingyu.

Of her girlfriend. A smile touched her lips, her heart lifting, her steps quickening as she hurried back to the hotel, eager to see her.

But as she reached the hotel, she was intercepted by Meng Wanqing, who was lurking in the hallway, her arms laden with DVDs.

Xin Yao, startled by her sudden appearance, exclaimed, “What are you doing?!”

Meng Wanqing, her legs numb from squatting, jumped up and ran towards Xin Yao, her eyes shining.

“Yaoyao, you’re back!”

Seeing her eager expression, Xin Yao instinctively took a step back. “What’s this about? What are you up to?”

Meng Wanqing grinned, patting the DVDs in her arms.

“Good stuff. Interested?”

A question mark appeared above Xin Yao’s head.

Meng Wanqing leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Horror movies. Wanna watch?”

Xin Yao took a large step back. “Are you crazy? No way! Why would I want to torture myself?”

“Xin Yao!” Meng Wanqing’s voice was filled with mock disapproval. “As an actress, how can you say that?!”

“Can you guarantee you’ll never be cast in a horror movie? What will you do then? Run away? Are you even a professional?”

“You have to practice! Build up your courage!”

Her words, despite their absurdity, struck a chord with Xin Yao, making her hesitate.

She was a dedicated actress, after all.

Meng Wanqing, seeing her hesitation, clasped her hands together, her eyes pleading.

“Please, Jiejie! I need to practice! I can’t watch horror movies alone! I’ll die!”

Xin Yao finally relented, her brow furrowing slightly.

“But I can’t either! I’m terrified of horror movies! How about… we ask Xu Jingyu to join us?”

“Eww!” Meng Wanqing shuddered. “Watching a horror movie while staring at Xu Jingyu’s ice-cold face? That’s even more terrifying!”

Her girlfriend being insulted made Xin Yao pause, then she patted Meng Wanqing’s shoulder, a smile playing on her lips.

“I finally understand why Xue Ning says you’re lucky to be alive.”

In the end, they did invite Xu Jingyu.

They were planning to watch the movie in Xin Yao’s room. When the doorbell rang, Xin Yao went to open the door.

The cool air from the hallway wafted into the room as Xin Yao saw the figure standing outside.

She was tall, dressed in a simple black dress, her long, dark hair cascading down her back, the color accentuating her pale skin.

She looked like a creature of ice and snow, her presence chilling.

It was Xu Jingyu.

But the moment she saw Xin Yao, her cold, aloof demeanor melted away, her eyes shining with warmth and affection.

Like ice melting in the sunlight.

Before they were together, their interactions had been casual and easy.

Now, on their first official day as a couple, their relationship suddenly more intimate, more significant, Xin Yao felt a sudden shyness, unable to meet Xu Jingyu’s gaze.

But even as she blushed, her eyes lowered, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

They stood there, at the doorway, their eyes locked, the air between them thick with unspoken desire, as if they were about to kiss.

But they didn’t, the unspoken intimacy of the moment broken as they finally looked away, remembering Meng Wanqing’s presence inside.

Chapter 49 p2

The scarf’s tag was irritating her skin, and after several attempts to tuck it in, Xin Yao bent her head, trying to reach it.

And in that moment of distraction, she heard a thud.

Startled, she looked up and saw Xu Jingyu, who had somehow gotten ahead of her, stumbling on the uneven pavement, her head hitting a lamppost.

The impact made the lamppost sway slightly, the snow on top of it falling onto Xu Jingyu’s hair and coat.

Xin Yao, forgetting about her scarf, rushed towards her.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

Xu Jingyu turned around slowly, her lips pressed together, not speaking.

Snowflakes landed on her eyelashes, melting as she blinked.

In the dim light of the streetlamp, Xin Yao saw that her forehead was red from the impact.

But what surprised her even more was the redness around Xu Jingyu’s eyes, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears in the soft light and falling snow.

Xin Yao paused, confused.

Was it that painful? Was she crying?

She reached out, her hand gently touching Xu Jingyu’s cheek, avoiding her forehead.

“Silly Xu Jingyu! How could you bump into a lamppost?”

Xu Jingyu’s eyes, slightly red and teary, were beautiful in the soft light, her long eyelashes fluttering, her appearance strangely vulnerable.

She didn’t answer, simply reaching out and grabbing Xin Yao’s wrist, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face.

“Xin Yao, do you like Meng Wanqing?”

Xin Yao: ?

What kind of question was that? It completely ruined the mood. She had been momentarily captivated by the beauty of Xu Jingyu’s tearful eyes.

And liking Meng Wanqing?

Not that there was anything wrong with Xiao Meng, but the thought was as absurd as imagining a fish suddenly jumping out of its bowl and doing a little dance.

As Xin Yao’s mind reeled, Xu Jingyu continued, her words even more unexpected. “Or do you still have feelings for Li Xu?”

Xin Yao: ???

That was even more absurd!

But before she could react, Xu Jingyu stepped closer, pulling Xin Yao towards her, their bodies almost touching in the falling snow.

Xin Yao could feel the warmth radiating from Xu Jingyu’s body, the intensity of her emotions.

“Xin Yao,” her voice was slightly strained, yet firm, “I like you.”

“I just realized, I liked you from the moment I saw you.”

“Even though I met you later, and our time together has been short, I know I like you more than anyone else in the world.”

“Don’t like them, don’t even look at them,” Xu Jingyu’s eyes reddened further. “Just like me, okay?”

Xu Jingyu, usually so direct and blunt, had been struggling to express her feelings, her confession a sudden outpouring of suppressed emotions.

Her words stunned Xin Yao, her gaze locked with Xu Jingyu’s.

She knew that Xu Jingyu didn’t understand love, not yet.

So, she hadn’t expected a confession, had even resigned herself to the possibility that Xu Jingyu might never feel the same way.

She had thought: It’s okay. I’ll just love her, even if she doesn’t love me back.

But now, in this romantic, snowy night, the person she loved was confessing her feelings, her words almost desperate, her eyes shining with an intensity that made Xin Yao’s heart ache.

Tears welled up in Xin Yao’s eyes, her heart melting, her voice caught in her throat.

Seeing Xin Yao’s silence, her eyes filled with tears, Xu Jingyu’s own eyes reddened further, her beauty breathtaking, almost painful.

She tightened her grip on Xin Yao’s hand, as if wanting to pull her into her arms.

“If you don’t like me, I’ll just steal you away.”

Xin Yao, almost stumbling into her embrace, snapped out of her daze, a smile playing on her lips, her own tears blurring her vision.

“Okay, then steal me away.”

She knew Xu Jingyu was capable of anything, her possessiveness sometimes bordering on obsessive.

She had sometimes wondered what would happen if she didn’t reciprocate Xu Jingyu’s feelings.

Perhaps the alcohol had dulled her senses.

Xu Jingyu, hearing Xin Yao’s words, didn’t understand.

She didn’t know if Xin Yao liked her.

Her eyes lowered, her long eyelashes hiding her emotions.

Xin Yao cupped her face in her hands, forcing her to look at her.

“What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

Xu Jingyu looked at her, her voice soft.

“Because I want to kiss you.”

“Huh?” Xin Yao blinked, then laughed. “Then kiss me.”

“But I’ve used up all my kisses,” Xu Jingyu said, her expression still impassive, but her voice, her slightly lowered gaze, betraying her vulnerability.

“You said I couldn’t kiss you anymore.”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Xin Yao stood on tiptoe and kissed her, her lips soft and warm against Xu Jingyu’s, like snowflakes melting on her skin, the warmth spreading through her body.

Xu Jingyu’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat, her hands fidgeting nervously.

“What… what does this mean?”

Xin Yao smiled, kissing her again.

“Silly Xu Jingyu.”

“It means I like you too, of course.”

Her words, so simple yet so profound, made Xu Jingyu’s heart pound.

Unable to contain herself any longer, she captured Xin Yao’s lips in a passionate kiss.

Xin Yao’s arms wrapped around her neck, her lips meeting hers, their embrace tender and loving in the falling snow, the warm glow of the streetlights illuminating their faces.

The next morning, Xu Jingyu woke up in her hotel bed, her head throbbing slightly.

The sunlight, streaming through the gap in the curtains, made her wince, and she raised her arm to shield her eyes.

She couldn’t remember what had happened last night.

She only vaguely recalled drinking, then impulsively grabbing Xin Yao’s hand.

And then?

As she tried to piece together the fragmented memories, she heard a sound coming from the living room.

She looked up and saw Xin Yao, already dressed and her makeup done, walking towards her, her eyes lighting up as she saw that Xu Jingyu was awake.

“You’re awake! I was just about to wake you.”

“I have to go out for a bit. I made you breakfast and some hangover soup. Eat while it’s still warm.”

“Okay,” Xu Jingyu replied automatically.

But she was still slightly disoriented. She glanced at the clock. It was 8 am.

Xin Yao was usually reserved and wouldn’t normally come to her room, especially not at this hour.

And she had made breakfast for her? It felt like a scene from a married couple’s life.

Like a dream.

Xu Jingyu looked at Xin Yao, her voice slightly confused.

“Xin Yao?”

Seeing her bewildered expression, Xin Yao knew she didn’t remember what had happened.

She chuckled, walking over to the bed and holding up three fingers.

“Three things.”

“One, you got drunk last night, cried, confessed your feelings for me, and told me you liked me very much.”

“Two, I accepted.”

“Three, so now, you’re my girlfriend, Xu Jingyu.”

She stood up.

“Even though it’s our first day together, I have to go out. We can celebrate later. I shouldn’t be too long.”

Her rapid-fire delivery left Xu Jingyu even more confused.

She understood the words individually, but their combined meaning was shocking, almost incomprehensible.

She grabbed Xin Yao’s wrist as she turned to leave, her mind racing.

She wanted to ask so many questions.

Had she really been drunk last night? What had happened?

And was Xin Yao serious? Were they really dating?

Was she still dreaming?

But the words caught in her throat, a jumble of confused thoughts, and all she could manage was a soft, “Yaoyao?”

Xin Yao understood her confusion, but she really had to leave.

She patted Xu Jingyu’s wrist reassuringly, then leaned down and kissed her forehead, where a faint red mark still lingered from last night’s collision with the lamppost.

“Who told you to drink so much when you can’t handle it? Now you don’t even remember. Serves you right.”

“Anyway, we’re together now.”

“I really have to go. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“Don’t miss me too much, girlfriend,” she winked. “And don’t forget to drink your hangover soup.”

With that, she turned and left, her white coat swirling around her as she hurried out the door, not even waiting for Xu Jingyu’s reply.

She had burst into the room like a ray of sunshine, then left like a whirlwind, leaving a trail of shocking revelations in her wake.

And Xu Jingyu, sitting there, stunned, her mind reeling.

After Xin Yao left, Xu Jingyu stared at the empty doorway, her mind slowly piecing together the fragmented memories.

She sat there, her heart pounding, her blood rushing through her veins, a strange excitement coursing through her body.

Just as she felt like she was about to lose control, a few images flashed through her mind.

The sweet taste of rice wine, her hand gripping Xin Yao’s, the desperate plea “Don’t go,” driven by the fear of losing her.

And then, the warm glow of the streetlights, the falling snow, Xin Yao standing before her, her voice soft and gentle as she confessed her feelings.

They had exchanged vows of love in the snowy night, their embrace tender and passionate.

The memories returned, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with a newfound joy.

She touched her lips, then sat up abruptly.

Girlfriend.

So, Xin Yao had accepted her confession last night.

They were together now.

Xu Jingyu’s breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with her hand, her usually calm demeanor shattered.

Then, she fell back onto the bed, pulling the covers over her head, almost rolling around in delight.

Xin Yao.

My Xin Yao.

Xin Yao is my girlfriend!

Chapter 49 p1

“Hahaha, Ms. Xu is really drunk!” Director Gao’s hearty laughter broke the stunned silence that had fallen over the room like a blanket of snow.

Her carefree laughter dispelled the awkward tension caused by Xu Jingyu’s shocking words, bringing the room back to life.

Meng Wanqing, sobered up by the unexpected turn of events, wiped the sweat from her brow, relieved that Director Gao was oblivious.

Long live oblivious directors!

But her own director wasn’t much sharper. She simply nodded, as if suddenly understanding.

“Oh, so that’s why she called her ‘wife.’”

“So Ms. Xu gets all lovey-dovey when she’s drunk. Unexpected. She’s quite the charmer.”

Director Gao nodded in agreement. “She really startled me with that.”

They continued chatting, their laughter echoing through the room.

Meng Wanqing rolled her eyes. With their obliviousness, she wondered how they managed to film any love stories at all.

The assistant director and the cinematographer, however, having overheard the conversation, covered their mouths with their hands, their eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

The assistant director, unable to contain herself, started trembling, her body swaying slightly.

The cinematographer, her hand shaking, pinched her arm, trying to revive her.

“Snap out of it! Pull yourself together!”

After a moment, the assistant director recovered, her eyes shining as she grabbed her phone and started typing furiously, her message appearing in a group chat titled “Candy Squad.”

The group had over 30 members, all crew members, their shared obsession clear.

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): Guys, I think we’re onto something real!]

[Yaoyao is my baby! (Makeup Artist): ?]

[Yaoyao is my baby! (Makeup Artist): What happened? I’m drunk. Just left.]

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): You’ll never understand the joy of witnessing this firsthand! You missed out!]

[Just let me die. (Xi Yue): Get to the point.]

[Xin Yao is MY wife, not yours! (Cinematographer): Just now!]

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): Just now, Ms. Xu, drunk as a skunk, grabbed Xin Yao’s hand and called her ‘wife’! Right in front of us!]

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): I was standing right there! It was glorious!]

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): They’re totally together! If they’re not, I’ll eat my hat!]

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): My ship has sailed! My life is complete!]

[Yaoyao is my baby! (Makeup Artist): Holy shit!]

[Just let me die. (Xi Yue): Holy shit!]

[Just a humble worker. (Qian Yu): Holy shit!]

…

[Xiao Cen is working hard today! (University Student): Holy shit!]

The chat exploded with shocked reactions.

Their little CP fan group, a mere 30 members, had been operating in secrecy, their shared obsession a closely guarded secret.

After all, Xu Jingyu had a massive fanbase, and Xin Yao, her reputation still tarnished, had more haters than fans.

Who would believe them, who would dare to ship them, except for those who worked with them, who witnessed their interactions firsthand?

Even they had been cautious, only sharing small, seemingly insignificant moments, their interpretations often exaggerated and wishful.

For example, when Xin Yao napped on set, Xu Jingyu would always sit beside her, reading a book.

Candy Squad: Totally shielding her from the sun! So protective!

Or how Xin Yao often treated the crew to milk tea, but knowing Xu Jingyu didn’t like it, would always make her a special cup of red date tea.

Candy Squad: Obvious favoritism!

But they had been joking, their interpretations more wishful thinking than reality.

They hadn’t actually believed it.

But it was true!

She had called her “wife”! In public! And Ms. Xu was even being all lovey-dovey!

Ms. Xu, you’re so in love!

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): I’m so excited I can’t stop smiling!]

[Xin Yao is MY wife, not yours! (Cinematographer): Calm down. I heard the zombie director say you have potential. You look like you’ve been infected. He wants you for a cameo in his movie.]

[OMG, OMG, OMG! (Assistant Director): No way!]

[Just let me die. (Xi Yue): I’m jumping up and down at home! My mom thinks I’m crazy!]

[Just a humble worker. (Qian Yu): Aaaaaaaaaah!]

[Yaoyao is my baby! (Makeup Artist): They’re actually together! When did this happen?!]

The group chat was a flurry of excited messages, their joy almost palpable.

Compared to the chaos online, the atmosphere on set was much calmer.

Most people, slightly drunk and their minds a bit fuzzy, and the two directors being oblivious, hadn’t noticed the significance of Xu Jingyu’s words.

The small incident seemed to have passed unnoticed.

Xin Yao, looking at Xu Jingyu, who was still holding her hand, her gaze softening, a smile playing on her lips.

Xu Jingyu, usually so aloof and composed, was acting strangely tonight.

Her expression was calm, but her eyes, slightly unfocused from the alcohol, held a soft, almost vulnerable look, her demeanor unusually clingy and affectionate.

And she had called Xin Yao “wife.”

They weren’t even together.

But the words had slipped out so easily, so naturally, as if she had been saying them in her mind for a long time.

Xin Yao, hiding her amusement, let Xu Jingyu hold her hand, stepping closer, her voice a soft whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t hold on so tight. People are watching. Let go.”

But Xu Jingyu’s grip only tightened.

“No.”

As they tugged at each other’s hands, Director Gao, having just returned from seeing off the zombie director, saw them and smiled.

“You two are getting along so well now.”

“Since Xin Yao didn’t drink tonight, and you’re staying on the same floor, could you please do me a favor and take Ms. Xu back to her room?”

“I have to arrange for someone to clean up the set.”

Xin Yao, of course, wouldn’t refuse.

“Okay.”

Meng Wanqing, also slightly drunk and exhausted from the afternoon’s snowball fight, also stood up to leave.

“Yaoyao, I’m heading out. I’m exhausted. I need a shower and a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave Xu Jingyu to you.”

Xin Yao smiled and waved.

“Okay, be careful.”

The assistant director and the cinematographer, seeing their cue, also prepared to leave, giving the “couple” some privacy.

Although they really wanted to eavesdrop.

They were the last ones left at their table, the other guests having already left.

As Meng Wanqing and the others left, the room fell silent, only Xin Yao and Xu Jingyu remaining.

The silence after the lively gathering, the dark, starry sky outside, the soft, white snow covering the ground, it all created a strangely intimate atmosphere.

Winter had arrived early this year.

Xin Yao looked at the snow, then at Xu Jingyu, her dark eyes fixed on Xin Yao’s face, and smiled, kneeling down before her.

She looked up at Xu Jingyu’s face, her voice soft.

“Are you really drunk?”

“Do you even know who I am? You didn’t just call me ‘wife’ by accident, did you?”

Xu Jingyu’s eyes, fixed on Xin Yao’s face, her grip tightening on her hand, she nodded.

“You’re my wife.”

“Don’t be silly,” Xin Yao laughed. “I’m not your wife.”

Her denial made Xu Jingyu’s eyes flicker, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly, her expression almost… vulnerable.

She lowered her head, her voice a soft murmur.

“You are my wife.”

“Then,” Xin Yao squeezed her hand, “do you like me now? You can’t call me that if you don’t like me.”

Xu Jingyu looked up, her beautiful eyes, reflecting the moonlight on the snow, shining brightly.

But their dark depths still held a certain intensity, a silent question.

She looked at Xin Yao, her lips pressed together, not speaking.

Xin Yao, waiting for an answer, finally stood up.

“It’s cold. Let’s go back. It’ll be difficult to walk if it starts snowing again.”

Xu Jingyu, so close to Xin Yao, must have heard her, but she didn’t move, remaining silent.

Xin Yao tugged at her arm, trying to pull her up, but she was like a statue, her body unyielding.

What was she doing now?

Drunk Xu Jingyu was surprisingly difficult to handle, her clinginess and her sulking a new and unexpected challenge.

Xin Yao released her hand, turning to leave.

“If you’re not coming, I’m leaving.”

But as she turned, Xu Jingyu grabbed her wrist, her grip even tighter now, almost painful.

Xin Yao looked back at her.

Xu Jingyu’s eyes, dark and intense in the dim light, held a mix of vulnerability and possessiveness.

“Yaoyao, are you leaving me?”

Why did she keep asking that?

Xin Yao didn’t understand, but Xu Jingyu’s expressions were always difficult to read, her emotions hidden behind a mask of indifference.

Xin Yao could only try to reassure her, her hand reaching out to take Xu Jingyu’s.

“Of course not. Why would I leave you?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to understand, to come to me.”

“And even if you don’t, I won’t leave you.”

As she spoke, it started to snow again.

If they didn’t leave now, they would be stranded, and driving in a blizzard was dangerous.

Soothed by Xin Yao’s gentle words, Xu Jingyu finally relented, letting Xin Yao lead her away.

They stepped out of the warm, brightly lit room and into the snowy night, their footsteps leaving a trail in the fresh snow.

The moonlight, reflecting off the snow, elongated their shadows, their figures intertwined.

The set was deserted, only the two of them walking hand in hand through the falling snow.

As they walked, Xin Yao released Xu Jingyu’s hand, adjusting her scarf.

Xu Jingyu, obediently, followed close behind.

Chapter 48 p2

The next day, Lu Duanjing’s fever hadn’t broken completely, her mind still hazy.

She had looked at Wen Sigu, her hand still clutching hers, her voice a soft, tearful whisper.

“Sigu, what can I do? What can I do to make this world a better place? I’m so small, so insignificant.”

Wen Sigu, seeing her distress, her mind still clouded by fever, tightened her grip on Lu Duanjing’s hand, her voice firm.

“Duanjing, we’re all insignificant.”

“Our country is in turmoil. Even a nation can struggle. Changing the world alone is impossible.”

But did that mean they should do nothing?

If not, then what could they do?

“But when many insignificant people work together, their combined efforts become a powerful force, a force that cannot be ignored.”

“Duanjing, don’t be afraid of being small. Just do what you can, with all your heart. That’s enough.”

In the grand scheme of things, they were all like dust motes, insignificant. But together, they could become a brilliant, inextinguishable light.

Wen Sigu’s words seemed to resonate with Lu Duanjing, who finally drifted off to sleep, her fever breaking.

Wen Sigu, relieved, hadn’t been idle.

Those government officials, firing their guns indiscriminately in the slums, their actions a blatant disregard for human life, it was outrageous!

Furious, she had ordered her men to investigate.

She hadn’t had to wait long. Before Lu Duanjing had even fully recovered, she received the report.

Sitting in her study, she looked at the document in her hand, her brow furrowing.

The sunlight, streaming through the window, illuminated the page, revealing a single character: “medicine.”

“Okay! Cut!”

“As expected of Ms. Xu, a flawless performance.”

The director’s excited voice echoed from behind the camera.

“We managed to finish the scene before the snow got too heavy.”

She clapped her hands, addressing the crew.

“That’s a wrap! Everyone, pack up and bring the equipment inside! We don’t want it to get damaged.”

“We’re suspending filming for the next few days due to the blizzard. I’ll let you know when we resume. Enjoy your time off!”

Yes, unfortunately, Xin Yao’s first day back on set coincided with a rare blizzard.

They hadn’t been filming for long when the snow started to fall, the snowflakes quickly accumulating, covering the ground in a thick blanket of white.

The upcoming scenes didn’t require snow, and concerned about the safety of the cast and crew, Director Gao had suspended filming.

The set erupted in cheers, their enthusiasm undeterred by the blizzard.

“Woohoo!”

“Wise decision, Director!”

“You’re the best, Director Gao!”

“Director Gao is so cool! Red envelopes!”

Director Gao, basking in their praise, paused at the last comment.

Shameless! They were getting a paid vacation, and they still wanted red envelopes?!

But the crew’s enthusiasm was overwhelming, and they surrounded her, chanting for red envelopes.

Xin Yao, standing beside Xu Jingyu, was also excited about the unexpected break. She wondered if she and Xu Jingyu should study the script together, or perhaps go out and explore the city.

She tugged at Xu Jingyu’s sleeve.

“Ms. Xu, do you like hot pot? I heard there’s a good hot pot restaurant nearby…”

Xu Jingyu, seeing her, her eyes softening, smiled.

They leaned closer, whispering about their plans for the next few days.

Just then, the zombie movie set next door, also affected by the blizzard, also wrapped for the day.

Their celebration, however, was slightly less civilized, a chorus of groans and moans, like a scene from a zombie apocalypse.

And the zombie set had recently moved closer to theirs, their sets now separated only by a thin wall.

Meng Wanqing, relieved to have a break from her nightmare job, ran towards Xin Yao, eager to hang out with her new friend, her face beaming with excitement.

“Yaoyao! Let’s go out tonight!”

She burst through the door separating their sets, running towards them.

Xin Yao, startled by her sudden appearance, her special effects makeup and bloodstained clothes making her look like a creature from a horror movie, gasped.

And Xu Jingyu, who loathed Meng Wanqing’s interruptions, her hard-won alone time with Xin Yao now threatened, glared at her, her eyes colder than the falling snow.

Just as Meng Wanqing reached them, a snowball, thrown with surprising force, hit her squarely in the forehead.

Meng Wanqing: “Gah!!!”

She collapsed into the snow, her scream echoing through the air.

It was Xu Jingyu, of course.

She simply couldn’t stand her.

Xin Yao, witnessing the scene, her eyes widening in surprise: What are you doing?! You can’t just hit people!

She grabbed Xu Jingyu’s hand and pulled her away, afraid of being seen.

After all, Meng Wanqing, with her cheerful and outgoing personality, had many friends on set.

And as she lay there in the snow, her fall attracting the attention of her fellow zombies, who gathered around her, their concern a strange mix of groans and moans, she clutched her forehead dramatically.

“Who… who attacked me?!”

Then, she slumped back into the snow, her voice weak and trembling.

She was a natural actress.

One of her loyal zombie followers grabbed her hand, her voice filled with concern.

“Meng Jie! Meng Jie, are you okay?! We’ll avenge you!”

The resourceful little zombie had already started making snowballs.

She raised her fist, her voice echoing through the set. “It was ‘Unseen Spring’! They attacked Meng Jie! Charge!”

A barrage of snowballs flew through the air.

The “Unseen Spring” crew, packing up for the day, turned to see what was happening.

Several snowballs landed near them, followed by a horde of grotesque creatures, lurching towards them.

Most of them had no idea what was going on.

One crew member, his eyes wide with disbelief, exclaimed, “Holy shit! They’ve actually turned into zombies! I knew it! They were all a bit strange!”

But the zombie horde, ruthless and efficient, didn’t give them time to react, their snowballs raining down on them.

One snowball, perfectly aimed, hit the assistant director, who, having slept on his neck wrong the previous night, collapsed onto the ground, “dead.”

Even without knowing what had happened, seeing their assistant director taken down, the “Unseen Spring” crew was outraged.

“How dare they attack our AD?! Let’s get them!”

“Charge! Let’s show those zombies what we’re made of!”

“Bring out the big guns! It’s war!”

Director Gao, having just finished distributing red envelopes, turned to see her crew charging towards the zombie horde.

Director Gao: ?

What was going on?!

Just then, one of the zombies, her sharp eyes spotting Director Gao, pointed at her and yelled, “There she is! The enemy leader! Capture her!”

Director Gao: !

What?!

They were at war, but why was she the target?!

She turned and ran.

And the “Unseen Spring” crew, not to be outdone, retaliated.

They’re capturing our director? Then we’ll capture theirs!

And their AD! And their screenwriter!

The two directors, like frightened rabbits, were now being chased across the snowy set.

Xin Yao, standing in the corner where it had all begun, watching the chaos unfold, the snowballs flying, the shouts and screams echoing through the air, wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, her heart pounding.

She turned to Xu Jingyu.

“You started this!”

Xu Jingyu, whose earlier sullen mood had been lifted by Xin Yao’s presence, her eyes softening as she looked at her, smiled.

But Xin Yao, not one to be easily intimidated, had secretly made a snowball and, as Xu Jingyu turned to face her, pressed it against her cheek.

Xu Jingyu’s eyelids flickered, but she didn’t react.

“Huh?” Xin Yao was surprised. “Aren’t you cold?”

Xu Jingyu shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Xin Yao was even more surprised.

This person, impervious to both heat and cold, what was she even afraid of?

Just as she was about to ask, Meng Wanqing, having somehow recovered, reappeared, sneaking up behind Xin Yao and placing her cold hand on her neck.

“Ah!” Xin Yao shrieked, turning to see the culprit. “Meng Wanqing! You’re dead!”

She scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it down Meng Wanqing’s shirt.

Meng Wanqing shrieked and tried to dodge, Xin Yao’s relentless attacks making her cry out in mock protest.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Yaoyao Jiejie!” [Older Sister]

Xin Yao threw a snowball at her butt.

“Too late!”

They chased each other through the snow, their laughter echoing through the air.

Xu Jingyu stood there, watching them, her smile fading.

Compared to the cheerful and playful Meng Wanqing, she was so dull and boring.

Even when Xin Yao teased her, she couldn’t respond in kind.

She couldn’t say anything interesting, couldn’t offer any emotional support.

It seemed Xin Yao was happier with other people.

Did that mean she preferred them to Xu Jingyu?

Xu Jingyu stood there, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao, her expression seemingly calm, but her heart aching with a sudden, sharp pain.

In the end, the zombie horde emerged victorious.

Both directors had been captured, and the “Unseen Spring” team had even lost their assistant director.

But the zombies, ruthless and efficient, had abandoned their own captured director, continuing their relentless assault.

The “Unseen Spring” crew, however, still bound by the director’s earlier generosity, had hesitated, their loyalty conflicting with their desire to win.

And they had lost.

The captured zombie director, standing in the snow, his voice filled with mock despair, cried out, “Why?! Why would you betray me like this?!”

His loyal followers replied, “We’re zombies! We don’t have human emotions! Isn’t that what you taught us, Director?!”

The defeated “Unseen Spring” team, however, had to pay the price for their loss, or rather, Director Gao had to pay the price, treating both crews to hot pot.

They gathered in a large tent on set, the two crews huddled together, the warm steam from the hot pot filling the air.

Xin Yao, Xu Jingyu, Director Gao, the zombie director, and Meng Wanqing sat together at a table.

Director Gao, in a celebratory mood, had brought some local rice wine, wanting everyone to try it.

Xin Yao, knowing her low alcohol tolerance, abstained.

But Xu Jingyu didn’t refuse.

She had been unusually quiet lately.

While Xin Yao chatted and laughed with the others, Xu Jingyu silently drank, cup after cup.

As the noisy gathering began to wind down, almost 11 pm, Xin Yao finally noticed Xu Jingyu’s unusual behavior.

Xu Jingyu’s face was always impassive, her emotions hidden behind a mask of indifference. Even when drunk, she showed no outward signs.

She had been sipping the rice wine calmly, her demeanor unchanged.

No flushed cheeks, no slurred speech. She had even responded to Xin Yao’s questions, her answers coherent and polite.

But as the zombie director, overcome by drowsiness, stood up to leave, Xin Yao politely stood up to say goodbye.

And then Xu Jingyu’s true state was revealed.

Thinking that Xin Yao was also leaving, she reached out and grabbed her wrist, her voice clear and strong, echoing through the quietening room.

“Wife, don’t go.”

The room fell silent.

The chattering guests paused, their gazes, filled with surprise and curiosity, turning towards them.

Xin Yao, startled, turned to Xu Jingyu.

“Xu… Xu Jingyu, what are you saying?”

There were people everywhere!

Xu Jingyu, her eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming through the window, looked up at Xin Yao, her voice soft.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Chapter 48 p1

Xin Yao cupped Xu Jingyu’s face in her hands, gently wiping away the tear that had escaped her eye.

“I’m fine. It’s just a small scratch. It looks worse than it is. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Why are you so upset?”

Xu Jingyu took Xin Yao’s hand, her grip tight.

“I heard them say… that you had been shot. I thought…”

She hadn’t been able to think, her body moving on instinct, driven by a primal fear.

Now, recalling the sudden surge of terror, she felt a strange sense of detachment, as if she had almost lost Xin Yao in a past life.

Seeing the lingering fear in Xu Jingyu’s eyes, Xin Yao’s gaze softened, and she was about to speak when Xi Yue, the set medic, interrupted them.

“Ms. Xu, don’t worry too much. I’ve examined the wound. It’s just a graze from a plastic pellet. It didn’t hit any bones. Just a flesh wound. She’ll be fine.”

“Could you please step aside so I can treat her wound?”

Now that they had confirmed Xin Yao was unharmed, treating her wound was the priority.

Xu Jingyu nodded, stepping aside to give Xi Yue access to Xin Yao’s leg.

She stood there, her gaze fixed on Xin Yao, her eyes filled with concern.

Xin Yao gave her a reassuring smile, then lifted her skirt slightly, revealing the wound.

As she did, her wrist was also exposed, the scar on her left wrist visible in the dim light.

Xin Yao hadn’t been particularly bothered by the scar.

After leaving the hospital, she had been so distressed that she had asked the system for medication, and the wound had healed quickly, the pain fading.

But the scar remained.

She usually covered it with makeup while filming.

But lately, she had been too busy, waking up too early, to bother with it.

And with the arrival of winter, her long sleeves had hidden it.

Until now.

Xin Yao, still focused on her leg, hadn’t noticed the scar.

But Xi Yue, kneeling before her, treating the wound, and Qian Yu, a crew member who had helped Xin Yao earlier, both saw it.

Their eyes widened in shock, their breaths catching in their throats, their gazes meeting in a shared moment of horror.

But they weren’t the only ones who saw it. Xu Jingyu, standing beside them, had also seen the scar.

Her eyes, already dark and intense, narrowed further, her heart clenching with a sudden, sharp pain.

She remembered.

The first time she had met Xin Yao, her wrist had been bandaged.

She had asked about it, but Xin Yao had dismissed it, and Xu Jingyu, still a stranger, hadn’t pressed further.

She hadn’t realized the wound had been so deep.

How much pain had she endured?

She knew Xin Yao hated pain.

And yet, she had inflicted such a deep wound upon herself.

Xu Jingyu couldn’t imagine the depth of her despair.

It must have been… after her breakup with Li Xu.

Xu Jingyu’s eyes darkened.

Xin Yao hadn’t mentioned Li Xu, or the scandal, for a long time.

It wasn’t because she had been focused on her work, but because Xu Jingyu had made sure of it, using her influence to suppress the negative press, to protect Xin Yao from further harm.

Initially, she hadn’t cared about the truth of the rumors, simply wanting to meet Xin Yao.

And after meeting her, she had known that the accusations were false.

She had wanted to deal with Li Xu, to punish him for his cruelty, but Xin Yao had said she wanted to handle it herself, so Xu Jingyu had relented.

Then, caught up in their whirlwind romance, she had forgotten about it.

Until now, seeing the scar on Xin Yao’s wrist, she realized, with a sudden pang of jealousy, that Xin Yao had loved someone else, that she had been hurt.

The pain in her heart was real, the bittersweet ache a reminder of Xin Yao’s past.

She had been trying so hard to understand what it meant to love, and she had finally realized that she loved Xin Yao.

But what about Xin Yao? Did she feel the same way?

Xu Jingyu had assumed she did.

But now, she wasn’t so sure.

Just two months ago, Xin Yao had still been deeply in love with Li Xu, her despair so profound that she had harmed herself.

Did she still have feelings for him?

Xu Jingyu’s eyes darkened, her fingers clenching into fists.

Li Xu?

Ridiculous.

As Xu Jingyu’s thoughts spiraled downwards, her jealousy turning into a dangerous obsession, Xi Yue finished bandaging Xin Yao’s leg.

But she still needed to go to the hospital for a check-up, just to be safe.

Filming was suspended for now.

Director Gao, hearing about the accident, had rushed over, but her short legs hadn’t carried her very far, and she was still trying to push her way through the crowd.

“Yaoyao, are you okay?!” she called out.

Xin Yao, supported by Qian Yu, smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Director! I’m fine! It doesn’t even hurt!”

Xu Jingyu walked over and helped support Xin Yao, knowing she was lying, that she must be in pain.

She wanted to carry her, or at least offer her a piggyback ride, but she hesitated, unsure if Xin Yao would welcome her touch.

The usually aloof and untouchable Xu Jingyu now found herself filled with anxieties, her greatest fear being Xin Yao’s rejection.

She knew she wasn’t the most approachable person, her personality cold and reserved.

She was afraid Xin Yao would find her unpleasant.

So, instead of embracing her, she simply draped her coat over Xin Yao’s shoulders, her touch gentle and supportive.

Xin Yao’s injury, while not serious, required a few days of rest. She couldn’t film for now.

She felt guilty for delaying the production.

She had always been like this, happy to help others, but uncomfortable accepting help herself, always feeling like a burden.

Not knowing what else to do, she asked Chen Jia to treat the crew to a barbecue dinner as a gesture of apology.

Xin Yao, still recovering, couldn’t attend the dinner, and Xu Jingyu, staying by her side, also didn’t go.

The crew, gathered at the barbecue restaurant, were touched by Xin Yao’s generosity, her thoughtfulness despite her own injury.

The culprit behind the accident had been found: a student working part-time on the set.

He had been nervous, and with the loud sound effects, his hand had slipped as he fired the prop gun, the plastic pellet, meant for a sandbag, hitting Xin Yao instead.

The student, horrified at having injured someone, especially a celebrity, had been distraught.

He came from a poor family, his mother ill, and he had been working part-time to pay for his tuition.

Xin Yao, despite her own injury, had gone to see him, her voice gentle and reassuring.

“It’s okay. It’s just a scratch. It doesn’t even hurt. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on your studies. But be more careful next time, okay?”

It had been snowing that day.

Xin Yao had stood there, in the soft glow of the streetlights, her smile warm and comforting.

The student had thought she was an angel.

Now, sitting at the barbecue restaurant, he was crying, his guilt overwhelming.

The other crew members, knowing what had happened, were even more impressed by Xin Yao’s kindness.

“She’s such a nice person. So kind, so cheerful, so thoughtful.”

And wherever someone praised Xin Yao, the makeup artist would appear, nodding eagerly.

“I know, right?! She’s amazing! Those online rumors are complete bullshit!”

Her words sparked a chorus of agreement.

“Exactly!”

“I thought I was the only one who felt that way!”

“Those reports are ridiculous! How could I have believed them?”

The online articles had painted Xin Yao as a manipulative, scheming homewrecker, a villain.

But the crew, having worked with her for so long, knew better.

While some celebrities wore masks, they weren’t fools. They could see through the facades.

Xin Yao was genuine, kind, and charismatic.

Li Xu, on the other hand, seemed fake, his charm a carefully constructed facade.

“I don’t think she’s like that at all.”

“But I’m curious what really happened.”

“What else? The scumbag probably cheated on her with a rich woman, then dumped her and denied their relationship. It’s common in this industry. Li Xu is a social climber. Everyone knows that.”

“Oh my god, if that’s true, then Ms. Xin is so pitiful!”

Xi Yue and Qian Yu, sitting in a corner, exchanged glances, their eyes filled with sympathy, thinking: It’s even worse than that.

That cheerful, optimistic young woman had been driven to the brink of suicide.

But it was a private matter, a secret they couldn’t reveal.

Xi Yue, her anger growing, slammed her hand on the table.

“I’m officially a Xin Yao stan! She’s too precious!”

The student, hearing her words, also slammed his hand on the table.

“If anyone dares to say anything bad about Sister Xin Yao, I’ll fight them!”

Xin Yao, unintentionally, had gained several new fans.

While Xin Yao recovered from her injury, Xu Jingyu visited her every day.

But she didn’t stay with Xin Yao constantly.

For example, that afternoon, seeing Xin Yao asleep, she hadn’t wanted to disturb her and had returned to her own room.

The weather was unusually sunny for this time of year, and Xu Jingyu sat on the sofa by the window, basking in the warm sunlight, a book covering her face.

Meng Wanqing, uninvited as always, sat down beside her, eating ice cream.

Xue Ning, perched on the armrest of the sofa, cracked sunflower seeds, the shells scattering on the floor.

They hadn’t wanted to visit Xu Jingyu, knowing her mood had been foul lately.

But her bad mood affected everyone, so they had come to check on her.

Meng Wanqing, always restless, after finishing her ice cream, leaned closer to Xu Jingyu, trying to see what she was reading.

The book’s cover, pink and white, was eye-catching, the title bold and clear:

“How to Make Someone Fall in Love with You”

Meng Wanqing almost burst out laughing, biting her lip to stifle the sound.

Then, she noticed the other books on the coffee table:

“What is Love?”, “100 Little Things to Do with Your Lover”, “How to Make Your Lover Obsessed with You”, “A Guide to Forced Love”

Something seemed out of place.

But it didn’t matter.

Meng Wanqing couldn’t contain herself any longer. She giggled.

“Someone’s trying to become a love expert.”

Xue Ning, still cracking sunflower seeds, muttered, “Shut up.”

“Some people are so worried about whether someone likes them that they can’t even bring themselves to hug them. And you’re making fun of them.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Meng Wanqing shook her head, a playful smile on her face. “I still can’t believe Xu Jingyu has a crush. It’s so surreal.”

“I thought she was going to be a lonely old spinster, still tormenting me at the age of 80.”

Xue Ning tossed a sunflower seed shell onto the floor. “Shut up, Meng Wanqing. She’s right beside you. If you keep talking, she’ll kill you before you reach 80.”

“So, who is she in love with?”

“Who do you think?”

“Xin Yao, obviously!” But then Meng Wanqing frowned. “But Xin Yao is so nice! She’s so cheerful and fun to be around! How could she possibly like Ice Queen Xu Jingyu?”

Xu Jingyu, who had been agonizing over whether Xin Yao liked her, Meng Wanqing’s words striking a nerve, removed the book from her face and glared at her.

Meng Wanqing, seeing her expression, zipped her lips.

Xue Ning, having finished her sunflower seeds, clapped her hands together.

“But didn’t Xin Yao like Li Xu? I heard she was really in love with him. Regardless of whether the rumors were true or not, her feelings were real, weren’t they?”

“You’ll have to work harder, President Xu.”

Xu Jingyu leaned back against the sofa, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ve heard that name far too many times lately. It’s annoying.”

“And the Mo family. Also annoying.”

“I don’t want to hear about them again, Xue Ning. Is that clear?”

Xue Ning whistled. “Whoa, President Xu, are you planning to steal her away? Don’t worry, leave it to me! I’ll get your little wife back for you!”

Her words were meant to be a joke.

But Xu Jingyu’s gaze, cold and serious, held no trace of humor.

“What?”

“Is it wrong to want her back?”

“I can do it. I can win.”

Li Xu? He was nothing compared to her.

Her words, so simple yet so forceful, stunned the other two women into silence.

The room was quiet, the air thick with tension.

Finally, Meng Wanqing, unable to contain herself, blurted out, “Are you crazy?!”

Xu Jingyu didn’t reply, simply looking down at the sunlight on her palm, her expression unreadable.

She wasn’t crazy.

In fact, she had never been more lucid.

Xin Yao’s leg injury healed quickly after a few days of rest.

During her absence, the director had focused on filming Xu Jingyu’s scenes.

Xu Jingyu, usually aloof and reserved, her mood further darkened by her anxieties, had been even colder and more distant than usual, her presence casting a pall over the entire set.

Until Xin Yao returned.

She arrived on set, dressed in her costume, her smile bright as she greeted everyone.

“Good morning, everyone!”

The crew, hearing her voice, turned to look at her, their faces lighting up.

“Ms. Xin, you’re back!”

“Good morning!”

“Have you had breakfast yet, Ms. Xin?”

Their cheerful greetings filled the air, the set suddenly coming alive.

After exchanging pleasantries, Xin Yao, not wanting to waste any time, quickly got into character, resuming the scene where she had been injured.

Lu Duanjing, witnessing the horrors of the slums, her eyes filled with tears, her mind reeling from the shock, hadn’t even noticed the danger.

It was Wen Sigu who had come to her rescue, wrapping her in her coat and leading her away.

After that day, Lu Duanjing hadn’t been able to sleep, the images of the slums haunting her dreams.

She had fallen ill, a high fever gripping her body, refusing to break.

Wen Sigu, worried, had come to visit her.

Hearing Wen Sigu’s voice, Lu Duanjing had finally opened her eyes, finding the strength to take her medicine.

She had spent the rest of the day in a feverish daze, her hand clutching Wen Sigu’s, as if holding onto a lifeline.

Wen Sigu hadn’t been able to, or hadn’t wanted to, let go.

She had sat by Lu Duanjing’s bedside all night, holding her hand, her gaze fixed on her face.

Chapter 47 p2

Lu Duanjing nodded and stepped back into the room, turning her back to Wen Sigu.

Wen Sigu followed her inside, her gaze falling on the delicate skin of Lu Duanjing’s neck, the soft strands of hair clinging to her skin, the gentle curve of her back as she bent her head slightly.

Wen Sigu, who considered herself bold and fearless, felt a sudden surge of nervousness, her hands, usually so steady, now trembling slightly.

As she reached out to undo the button, her fingers, slightly unsteady, missed the small, round button, brushing against Lu Duanjing’s skin instead.

Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to the cool rain that had been falling on her all day, making Lu Duanjing shiver, her breath catching in her throat.

She instinctively turned her head to look at Wen Sigu.

Wen Sigu’s gaze met hers, their faces inches apart.

The room was dim, the sound of rain echoing through the open window.

They stood there, their eyes locked, their breaths mingling, the world fading away.

They almost kissed.

But neither of them made the first move.

From that day on, however, their relationship changed.

Lu Duanjing’s heart would race whenever she saw Wen Sigu, a flutter of excitement filling her chest.

She thought their days would continue like this, their love growing stronger with each passing day.

But fate had other plans.

A sudden tragedy shattered their peaceful existence.

It had been an ordinary day, the school closed for a holiday, Lu Duanjing reading in Wen Sigu’s office, when Wen Sigu rushed in, her expression urgent.

“Duanjing, I have to go.”

She grabbed her coat and turned to leave.

Lu Duanjing grabbed her wrist. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Wen Sigu’s brow was furrowed. “The government is arresting people. They think someone’s hiding in the slums, and they’re firing their guns, trying to force them out. Several of my students live there. Wen Chong and I have to go.”

“Will you be in danger?”

“I’m a member of the Xu family. They won’t harm me.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, it’s too dangerous!”

“It’s not dangerous!” Lu Duanjing, her voice unusually firm, “If you’re not in danger, then I won’t be either! I’m the Lu family’s eldest daughter! Those people rely on my father’s influence! They wouldn’t dare touch me!”

“And with me there, they’ll be even more cautious.”

Lu Duanjing wasn’t just concerned about Wen Sigu’s safety, but also about her students.

During her time at the school, she had gotten to know them all.

Wen Sigu’s school was a free primary school, a rare and precious opportunity for the children of the slums.

Some of them, eager to learn, would walk for miles each day, arriving before dawn and leaving after dark.

One father, believing there was a tuition fee, had borrowed three sacks of rice from his neighbors, bringing his child to the school, hoping to give him a better future.

When he learned that the school was free, he had knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face, thanking them profusely.

And there was an elderly man, his body small and frail, his skin weathered from years of hardship, who had hesitantly asked if he could also attend.

He didn’t have any grand ambitions, he simply wanted to learn how to write his own name.

Everyone deserved to know how to write their own name.

Seeing their faces, their hopes and dreams, Lu Duanjing had realized the significance of Wen Sigu’s work, the impact she was having on their lives.

So, she was worried about their safety.

But they arrived too late.

As they reached the slums, Lu Duanjing saw the father who had borrowed three sacks of rice lying dead on the ground.

And his child, the child he had desperately wanted to give a better future, the child who had just learned how to write his name, was dead in his arms.

And Hu Tou, the little boy who had asked Wen Sigu to give him a new name, was also dead.

He had thought his name wasn’t nice enough, and Wen Sigu had spent days thinking of a new one, a name he would never hear.

Lu Duanjing looked at his small, lifeless body, discarded like trash in a corner.

And the slums were filled with bodies, the dead and the dying.

Old people, children, women, men, even infants, their lives cut short before they had even begun.

Snow fell on the desolate landscape, a bleak and unforgiving winter.

Government officials, like bandits, were raiding homes, their guns firing indiscriminately, the residents fleeing in terror.

Like withered stalks of grain, they fell, one after another.

The screams of the terrified, the blood staining the ground, the soldiers firing on their own people, the falling snow…

Lu Duanjing watched, the coldness seeping into her heart, each breath a painful reminder of the world’s cruelty.

Tears blurred her vision.

This world…

This cruel, unforgiving world!

Xin Yao, completely immersed in her role, felt Lu Duanjing’s pain, her despair, as if she were truly there, witnessing the horrors firsthand.

But unlike Lu Duanjing, she knew she was acting. These people, however, were living this nightmare.

Tears streamed down her face.

Just then, a gunshot echoed through the set.

It wasn’t a real gun, of course, just a prop.

Most of the guns were fake, firing blanks, but a few, used for specific shots, fired plastic pellets, harmless from a distance, but still painful at close range.

The sound of the gunshot, echoing through the air, made Xin Yao’s head spin.

But she was still in character, her face streaked with tears, about to continue her performance.

Then, she heard a commotion nearby.

The sound, growing louder, broke through her concentration, pulling her out of her character, back to reality.

She looked up, her vision blurry with tears, and saw several people running towards her, their voices filled with concern.

“Ms. Xin! Are you okay?!”

“Oh my god, she’s bleeding! Get the first-aid kit!”

“It’s not too deep, thankfully! Where’s the medic? Get a medic!”

As their frantic voices registered in her mind, Xin Yao looked down and saw a small tear in her skirt, blood staining the fabric.

She must have been hit by a stray pellet, she thought.

Someone helped her up, and she finally felt the sting of the wound.

She smiled at the concerned faces around her, trying to reassure them.

“It’s okay, it’s just a scratch. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t smile, Ms. Xin! You’re bleeding!” the woman supporting her said, her voice filled with worry. Xin Yao’s skirt was stained with blood. If it had been her, she would have been crying.

“Let’s get you to a chair.”

Xin Yao nodded, the pain intensifying. She let herself be led away.

Xu Jingyu, not in this scene, had been having her makeup touched up.

She had been standing there, her eyes closed, when she heard a commotion and saw people running towards the set.

Then, she heard the panicked shouts.

“Ms. Xin is injured!”

“She’s been shot!”

“First-aid kit! Medic!”

The frantic voices made her mind go blank, her body tensing, her breath catching in her throat.

For a moment, she felt nothing, then a wave of panic washed over her, her heart pounding, her body trembling, as if she had been plunged into icy water.

Instinct took over, and she pushed past the makeup artist, running towards Xin Yao, her coat billowing around her, the cold air stinging her face, her usually calm eyes filled with a frantic fear.

She ran so fast that she bumped into a metal box, the impact jarring her, the pain echoing through her body.

But she ignored it, her only focus on reaching Xin Yao.

Her sudden, frantic dash startled the onlookers, who stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, their eyes wide with surprise.

Xu Jingyu reached Xin Yao.

The crowd parted, making way for her.

And finally, she saw Xin Yao, sitting in a chair, seemingly unharmed.

Relief washed over her, her racing heart slowing, her legs suddenly weak.

She walked towards Xin Yao, her steps unsteady, and knelt before her, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

She looked like she was about to cry.

Xin Yao, seeing her expression, knew that Xu Jingyu was on the verge of a complete breakdown.

She removed her hand from the bandage, cupping Xu Jingyu’s face, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“Xu Jingyu! Look at me! I’m fine!”

Xu Jingyu, her gaze meeting Xin Yao’s, her breathing still ragged, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

The set fell silent.

The crew, who had been crowding around Xin Yao, looked at each other, their expressions a mix of confusion and awkwardness.

They suddenly felt like intruders.

And Ms. Xu was crying!

This was Xu Jingyu, the aloof and untouchable movie queen!

Known for her cold demeanor, her lack of emotion, her mysterious aura, her powerful connections.

And yet, here she was, crying over Xin Yao.

It was a shocking display of vulnerability.

Were they really that close?

The scene was so unexpected, so out of character for Xu Jingyu, that the crew couldn’t help but wonder: Are they actually dating?

The cinematographer and the assistant director, hiding in a corner, their hearts filled with a mix of worry and excitement, whispered to each other.

“Holy shit, I think we’ve stumbled upon something real!”

Xin Yao, however, didn’t care about their speculations, about the potential for rumors and scandals.

She had found Pei Yu again, in this world, and she wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t hide their connection.

And Xu Jingyu, who had been secretly hoping for a scandal, a public declaration of their relationship, but hadn’t dared to hope, also didn’t care what others thought.

She simply looked at Xin Yao, her eyes filled with a raw, unfiltered emotion.

The wind and the falling snow seemed to amplify her feelings, their weight settling in her heart.

The nameless longing she had carried for so long, the emotion she hadn’t been able to understand, finally bloomed, its roots reaching deep into her soul.

As she looked at Xin Yao, safe and unharmed, she finally understood.

This feeling, this overwhelming surge of emotion, was love.

The feeling she had felt when she first saw Xin Yao’s photo, the feeling that had filled her every moment since then, the unspoken longing that had haunted her dreams, it was love.

I loved you from the moment I saw you.

Even though I don’t remember, my heart, my instincts, remember you.

Even without my memories, I would fall in love with you again and again, in every lifetime.

And how could I have taken so long to realize that I’ve always loved you?