Chapter 39 p1
Xu Jingyu, the esteemed actress, had gone to the dressing room to touch up her makeup.
Xin Yao sat quietly in a chair on set, her head slightly bowed, her fingers nervously intertwined.
A kissing scene…
Honestly, she felt a little resistant.
It wasn’t about who she was kissing. She was in a relationship and naturally couldn’t accept kissing someone else.
However…
When Xin Yao accepted the original owner’s commission and entered this world, she wasn’t just Xin Yao anymore. She was a tasker, carrying the weight of another soul and its unfulfilled wishes.
She had to complete her mission.
And here, on set, she wasn’t just herself. She was an actress, and it was her duty to perform her role well.
So, Xin Yao repeated in her mind: It’s just work.
She had resolved to help the original owner punish the scumbag and reclaim her life, hadn’t she?
Then she had to be professional!
But logic was one thing, and emotions were another. Thinking of Xu Jingyu’s aloof face and dark, intense eyes, Xin Yao felt even more awkward and apprehensive.
And Ms. Xu always kept herself so covered up, her demeanor so reserved and sterile, as if she disliked being touched. Did she really not mind the kissing scene?
Xu Jingyu had never filmed an intimate scene before, her aversion to physical contact almost legendary. Why had she suddenly accepted a role in “Unseen Spring,” a film with such explicit scenes?
Xin Yao was doing this to help the original owner reclaim her life and career, to seize this opportunity for a fresh start.
But what was Xu Jingyu’s reason?
Perhaps the script was simply that good?
The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became, her fingers twisting together, their tips turning white.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, trying to focus on the script, to distract herself.
The first scene they would be filming was actually from the middle of the movie.
It depicted the biggest crisis in the relationship between the two female leads, Lu Duanjing and Wen Sigu.
By this point in the story, Xin Yao’s character, Lu Duanjing, and Xu Jingyu’s character, Wen Sigu, were already secretly in love.
But Lu Duanjing’s father, driven by greed, wanted to marry her off to Wen Sigu’s older brother, strengthening the ties between their two families, forging an alliance through marriage.
The news was devastating for the two women, who had already pledged their hearts to each other.
Wen Sigu, of course, objected.
Her father, however, found her objections amusing.
“What difference does it make whether you agree or not? Don’t worry, your brother really likes Duanjing. He’ll treat her well, and she’ll have a comfortable life.”
“Do you know that if she didn’t marry into the Wen family, her father was planning to marry her off to some old, powerful man as a concubine? Wouldn’t that be worse?”
“Sigu, I know you treat Duanjing like a younger sister, but you can’t protect her forever. In this world, you have to be practical. You have to survive before you can talk about love.”
Lu Duanjing also opposed the marriage, but her father’s word was law. She had no say in the matter.
When she dared to protest, her father, angered by her defiance, sent her to kneel in the ancestral hall as punishment.
But while Lu Duanjing knelt there, Wen Sigu, surprisingly, started to consider her father’s words.
If they stayed together, they would face endless hardship and prejudice.
She could endure it, but what about Duanjing?
Duanjing was a delicate flower, sheltered and naive. How could she bear the weight of the world’s disapproval?
Wouldn’t it be better to let her go, to give her a chance at a peaceful, happy life, even if it meant sacrificing their love?
Wen Sigu had been tormented by these thoughts, wanting to see Lu Duanjing, yet afraid to.
When Lu Duanjing was finally released from her punishment, she immediately went to see Wen Sigu.
She had wanted to discuss how to escape the arranged marriage, but she sensed a distance between them, Wen Sigu subtly withdrawing.
Panic and sadness overwhelmed her. She followed Wen Sigu, a doctor, everywhere, accompanying her on her rounds, even assisting her during her free clinics, refusing to leave her side.
Wen Sigu, aware of Lu Duanjing’s intentions, had a serious talk with her, suggesting they take some time apart, to think things through.
It was mainly for Lu Duanjing’s benefit.
As for Wen Sigu herself, she had been hopelessly in love with Lu Duanjing since the day she had retrieved her jade hairpin from the pond, her heart already pledged to the young heiress.
She loved Lu Duanjing, deeply and irrevocably.
And she couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering.
Same-sex relationships were taboo, their love considered monstrous and unnatural.
Wen Sigu couldn’t imagine her beloved being ridiculed and ostracized, branded a freak.
They weren’t freaks. They were simply in love.
So, the more rational and mature Wen Sigu wanted Lu Duanjing to think carefully, to leave while she still could.
If Lu Duanjing chose to leave, Wen Sigu would let her go, silently guarding her happiness from afar.
But if Lu Duanjing reached out, even if it was just a small step, Wen Sigu would never let her go.
Lu Duanjing, however, oblivious to Wen Sigu’s inner turmoil, simply felt like she was being abandoned. After crying her heart out, she had rushed to Wen Sigu’s clinic, demanding answers, clinging to her, even kissing her forcefully, begging her not to leave.
Lu Duanjing didn’t have to go to Wen Sigu. Wen Sigu was always in her heart.
In this scene, Xin Yao, as Lu Duanjing, driven by panic and desperation, would burst into Wen Sigu’s clinic and kiss her, her actions a desperate attempt to keep her from leaving.
In the first half of the scene, Xin Yao, as the usually reserved and composed heiress, would take the lead, while Xu Jingyu, as the conflicted and heartbroken Wen Sigu, would passively endure.
In the second half, however, Wen Sigu, moved by Lu Duanjing’s passionate plea, would surrender to her own desires, her usually restrained passion erupting.
Wen Sigu was a gentle and reserved person, but beneath her calm exterior lay a deep well of passion.
She liked being in control, and she was good at it. And in this moment, she wanted Lu Duanjing to be hers, completely and utterly.
The director had emphasized that Xu Jingyu’s kiss should be fierce and passionate.
Xin Yao was a novice actress.
But she was also a hard worker, determined to give her best performance.
She had spent the past few days practicing in the system’s training room, determined to nail her first scene.
Nuan Nuan, watching her, had sighed. These hosts, they were all so driven.
Just as Xin Yao’s thoughts returned to the script, her anxiety easing, Xu Jingyu returned from the dressing room.
A soft murmur of appreciation rippled through the set, snapping Xin Yao out of her reverie. She turned to see Xu Jingyu walking towards them.
She had removed her gloves, her hands, beautiful and elegant, one tucked into the pocket of her white lab coat, the other swaying gently by her side.
Beneath the lab coat, she wore a white silk shirt, its neckline revealing her delicate collarbone. Black pants and matching boots completed the look.
She pushed her glasses up her nose, her demeanor cool and aloof, almost sterile.
But her aloofness had a strangely alluring quality.
As she walked towards them, bathed in the soft light, Xin Yao thought she was looking at Pei Yu.
She stood up abruptly, knocking her chair over, the sound echoing through the room.
Xu Jingyu, startled by the sudden movement, looked up, her gaze meeting Xin Yao’s. Seeing her nervous, almost frantic expression, she paused, then a soft smile touched her lips, her usually cold and impassive eyes warming slightly.
And it was that gentle gaze, that soft smile, that made Xin Yao freeze.
And then, a series of fragmented memories, like scattered puzzle pieces, clicked into place.
The hand that had captivated her in the restroom, the eyes that had seemed so familiar during the audition, the unsettling sense of recognition she had felt earlier that afternoon.
The final piece of the puzzle, the memory of Pei Yu’s cold, red eyes, and the dark, intense eyes of the woman before her, overlapped.
So similar.
No, identical.
And then, the memories she had suppressed, the thoughts she had been afraid to acknowledge, flooded her mind.
Her voice trembling, she asked, “Nuan Nuan, do you believe in reincarnation?”
[Duh. Your last mission, Xin Ping’an was reincarnated as a dog. He’s so fat now, he takes up two seats!]
“Then do you think it’s possible? That after leaving her, I could be so lucky as to meet her again, in another world?”
She had resolved to bury her memories of Pei Yu, to carry them with her, a bittersweet reminder of a stolen lifetime.
Whenever she felt sad, she would savor the memory, like a precious candy, then continue on her journey.
She had always been like this, hiding her pain behind a cheerful facade, her strength a shield against the world’s cruelty.
[What do you mean? You think she’s Pei Yu?]
“I… I’m not sure.”
[Honestly, it’s not uncommon. Fate works in mysterious ways. I’ve seen many hosts reunite with their loved ones in other worlds.]
[But they look completely different! Why do you think it’s her?]
Xin Yao couldn’t explain it.
She just felt it, instinctively.
Every time she looked at Xu Jingyu, she felt a flicker of recognition.
Perhaps her subconscious had already recognized her.
She stood there, her fingers fidgeting, her eyes slightly red.
Xu Jingyu, smiling softly as she walked towards Xin Yao, noticed her reddened eyes and paused, a flicker of surprise in her gaze.
She leaned closer to Xin Yao.
“Ms. Xin, are you alright?”
Her sudden proximity startled Xin Yao, who took a step back.
“Huh? Me?”
“Yes,” Xu Jingyu frowned slightly. “You look like you’re about to cry. Is it because of the kissing scene?”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Xin Yao said, touching the corner of her eye.
“Do you need a break?”
“No, I’m fine,” Xin Yao shook her head.
She didn’t want to delay the filming.
And more importantly, she wanted to spend as much time with Xu Jingyu as possible, to confirm her suspicions.
Xu Jingyu’s expression remained impassive, but her furrowed brow and concerned gaze betrayed her worry.
“Don’t be nervous. Just relax. It’s just a scene. I don’t mind.”
What did she mean, “I don’t mind”?
Xin Yao, unable to contain her curiosity, stepped closer, her voice impulsive.
“Ms. Xu, why did you accept this role? I heard you never do intimate scenes.”
Xu Jingyu looked down at her, her long eyelashes casting shadows over her eyes.
“Because I wanted to meet you.”
“Huh?”
“Because,” Xu Jingyu’s gaze fixed on Xin Yao’s face, “the moment I saw your photo, I wanted to meet you. I couldn’t wait.”
“So I didn’t.”
Oh…
That blunt, almost reckless honesty was so familiar.
It made Xin Yao’s head spin.
If she had been 50% sure before, she was now 80% certain.
Her heart pounded, her emotions a tangled mess, a mix of excitement and confusion.
As they stood there, whispering to each other, the director, the crew, and the lighting team finished their preparations.
Knowing Xu Jingyu’s aversion to crowds and physical contact, and wanting to put Xin Yao at ease, they cleared the set, leaving only Director Gao, a female cinematographer, and a female assistant.
Director Gao looked at them. “Ready, Ms. Xu, Xin Yao?”
Xu Jingyu, her hands in her pockets, didn’t reply.
Xin Yao, snapping out of her daze, took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was working, and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Action!” the director called out.
As the clapperboard snapped, Xin Yao forced herself to focus, to get into character.
She had already thought about how to portray Lu Duanjing, and this particular scene.
It was a pivotal moment in their relationship, a point of near-breakup, their love threatened by societal pressures.
Leave a Reply