A Scummy Alpha and An Award-Winning Omega Actress Fell in Love After an Arranged Marriage - Chapter 33

Lu Xueyin didn’t understand what Sheng Lan was angry about.

She guessed it might be her attitude.

So she sent another message.

[Lu Xueyin]: Do you want me to introduce you two? /smile

Sheng Lan laughed.

She sent a voice message, “Sister, you’re so adorable.”

Lu Xueyin listened to it twice, confirmed Sheng Lan was in a good mood, then tossed her phone aside and ignored her.

Sheng Lan didn’t mind the lack of response. She set her phone down and discussed tonight’s Peak Music Awards ceremony with Liang Jiao.

“This year should be uneventful. Have Xiao Tao follow me inside the venue. Everything else can proceed as usual.”

The Peak Music Awards was one of the most prestigious music awards in the country, held once every three years.

Sheng Lan had won a Peak Music Award once before. At the time, the talent show she participated in hadn’t even concluded yet. Her original song went viral, barely making the submission deadline, and she took home the Best New Artist award.

Back then, countless voices cried foul, accusing the results of being rigged.

A storm of messy hashtags flooded social media for nearly a month. The sheer drama of it all made Sheng Lan laugh.

She cherished her fans deeply.

Even though their love was fleeting and they might switch idols at any moment.

At the time, Liang Jiao had repeatedly suppressed her, and she couldn’t even regain control of her official Weibo account. So, she temporarily registered a new account, posted a video challenging anyone who doubted her to a face-to-face showdown.

Looking back now, Sheng Lan still thought she’d been way too bold.

Young and reckless, utterly fearless.

That was also when her public persona was cemented.

Her private account gained a massive following, and when Liang Jiao tried to take it back, she refused.

After her official debut, she re-verified her accounts. The original main account became her work account, while her Smurf account became her main one.

Three years later, returning to the Peak Music Awards, Sheng Lan was no longer the rookie everyone could trample on.

Now, who in their right mind would dare challenge the towering force of entertainment industry traffic?

Liang Jiao agreed.

“Nothing else to worry about. Just remember to review the commercial script when you have time.”

Commercial scripts were usually fragmented, unlike TV dramas or movies with continuous plots. They were more like music videos, emphasizing atmosphere.

Sheng Lan had experience. After skimming through it, she had a general idea and set it aside.

During the day, she had a series of short interviews with various media outlets, all eager for exclusive scoops.

Beyond exclusives, they also wanted explosive revelations.

Riding the hype of Trial Love Period currently in production, they inevitably asked about her and Lu Xueyin.

Sheng Lan had principles she only answered the questions they’d submitted in advance. For anything extra, she’d smile politely and expertly deploy her four-word mantra: “What do you think?”

The interviews were back-to-back, with a short promotional appearance squeezed in between. Afterward, she changed clothes, ate, and touched up her makeup in the car before heading to the awards venue.

As she’d predicted, this year went so smoothly that even her fans found it boring. Some even cheekily tagged several accounts that had subtly shaded Sheng Lan in the past, daring them to step up.

Times had changed. Most fandoms couldn’t compete now, leaving them lonely as snow.

Very humblebrag.

A lonely, snow-like celebration.

Sheng Lan went through the usual motions, reposting her official acceptance speech in text form, only to be bombarded with replies telling her to shut up.

[Too salty! If you really wanna thank us, show us what we actually wanna see.]

[You know that thing.]

[You and sister never do fan service?]

Fan service schedules were carefully planned overusing hype wasn’t a good thing.

She picked a top comment and replied with a single photo.

It was the trophy she won tonight.

[Sheng Lan: Give me some face, I won an award today.]

[Alright, alright, we know you’re amazing.]

[You won an award, but your CP didn’t even repost to congratulate you.]

[As expected, once you left the show, you’re CP-less.]

The words “CP-less” were particularly glaring.

Sheng Lan suddenly remembered something.

When she made a ring for Lu Xueyin using her hair, she had promised to replace it with a better one someday.

Why not get her a ring now?

No sooner said than done. Sheng Lan immediately contacted a jewelry designer.

After sending her requirements, she had to wait for the design draft.

Before bed, she checked Lu Xueyin’s chat window and frowned slightly.

The last message was a voice note she had sent in the morning.

Lu Xueyin hadn’t posted anything new on her social media, no updates on her Moments or Weibo.

Too cold.

Sheng Lan guessed Lu Xueyin must have misunderstood, so she clarified: That was someone Yu Cheng wanted to get to know. I was just helping her ask around.

The next morning, Sheng Lan checked her phone Lu Xueyin hadn’t replied. They ended up meeting at the filming location.

By the time Sheng Lan arrived, Lu Xueyin was already there.

She wore a plain black slip dress, simple and unadorned, with only a cinched waist.

The outfit was sexy yet relaxed, striking the perfect balance between allure and casualness.

A teardrop-shaped sapphire pendant rested between her collarbones, the only splash of color.

Her gaze swept over Sheng Lan with an innate coolness.

It didn’t seem deliberate as if they were naturally meant to maintain this distant, indifferent space between them.

Sheng Lan blinked.

She refused to believe that merely asking about a few people and explaining it was for Yu Cheng’s sake would warrant such a reaction from Lu Xueyin.

So the only explanation was that once they stepped out of Trial Love’s filming set and away from the live cameras, Lu Xueyin immediately broke character, treating the passion and ambiguity of the past few days as nothing more than performance.

Sheng Lan gritted her teeth faintly, this feeling annoyed her immensely.

With a low scoff, she couldn’t even be bothered to greet Lu Xueyin, heading straight to change and get makeup done as required.

Today’s shoot was for a lipstick commercial. The brand wanted to capitalize on the chemistry they had during Trial Love, but seeing the tension between them now, the team couldn’t help but worry.

Sheng Lan leaned back in her chair, flipping through the script, her voice carrying clearly to Lu Xueyin’s ears.

“Don’t worry. Ms. Lu can get me into character in a second. The effect you want won’t be a problem.”

“Into character in a second” that was her retaliation for Lu Xueyin’s attitude.

Lu Xueyin lowered her eyes and closed the script.

So Sheng Lan had indeed been acting during the filming.

What a shame.

Even outside Trial Love’s live broadcast, they still had to put on another performance today.

The script called for a rebellious girl and a goody-two-shoes.

The plot was fragmented, relying heavily on imagination.

With these roles, it went without saying that Sheng Lan got the rebellious girl part.

The snake tattoo on her arm took nearly forty minutes to paint, giving her ample time to memorize the entire sequence.

Throughout this, she and Lu Xueyin shared the same makeup room without exchanging a single word.

Even the director shook his head upon entering, resigned to the fact that today would be a battle of time, requiring meticulous shot-by-shot refinement.

It was an outdoor shoot. Both were sensitive to the camera, so their positioning was flawless once in frame, they immediately found their marks and angles.

The first scene was their initial encounter.

Sheng Lan, playing the rebellious girl, wore shorts and a tank top, touching up her lipstick with a compact mirror at a street corner.

Lu Xueyin, playing the role of a well-behaved girl in a blue-and-white school uniform, was walking home when she passed by this spot. Startled by the tattoo on Sheng Lan’s arm, she froze for two seconds before stiffly continuing forward.

Sheng Lan’s gaze followed her the entire way.

The camera cut to Sheng Lan’s sharp, deep-set eyes brimming with interest before shifting the main focus back to Lu Xueyin.

She appeared almost bare-faced, walking nervously with her head lowered, unconsciously biting her lip.

Her lips were a soft pink, carrying the innocent purity of a girl in her youth.

This shot was nailed in one take.

The director didn’t give them a break, wanting to finish filming while the momentum was still strong.

The scene shifted to a nearby alleyway, where the two crossed paths again.

Lu Xueyin was startled once more upon seeing Sheng Lan.

Dragged into the alley by the delinquent girl with a bad temper, she was wall-slammed and had lipstick forcibly applied to her lips.

This suited Sheng Lan perfectly, it was practically her playing herself.

Seeing Lu Xueyin in her youthful school outfit, her gaze timid and fearful, Sheng Lan felt an itch in her teeth, a restless urge stirring within her.

Sheng Lan had an impeccable sense of timing. Her eyes locked onto Lu Xueyin, but she didn’t rush to act.

The distance closed as Lu Xueyin walked forward, as if she were willingly stepping toward the abyss, falling into a trap.

The closer she got, the more obvious her unease became.

Sheng Lan noticed her trembling lashes, the faint teeth marks on her lips, their color now pale.

She frowned slightly.

At that moment, she really wanted to paint Lu Xueyin’s delicate lips with a bold, vibrant shade.

Step by step, Lu Xueyin approached Sheng Lan. Just as she was about to step into the safety zone, the sigh of relief she unconsciously let out like a feather landed softly on Sheng Lan’s heart, coaxing out the faint desire that had just begun to surface.

Sheng Lan reached out and grabbed her.

Pulling her back, she switched their positions. When she wall-slammed Lu Xueyin, Sheng Lan even caught the lingering trace of delight in her eyes before it instantly shifted into panic.

No dialogue, just the slightly rough application of lipstick.

The tip of the lipstick pressed against Lu Xueyin’s lips, smudging them.

Sheng Lan improvised an extra move using a single finger to spread the color, her fingertip subtly pushing just a little into Lu Xueyin’s mouth.

It was eerily reminiscent of Lu Xueyin’s reaction during that live-streamed makeup removal.

Her face flushed instantly.

This reaction left Sheng Lan deeply impressed.

This was acting even blushing on command. The title of Best Actress was well-deserved.

The director praised the improvised move and didn’t call for a retake.

Two consecutive scenes done in one take boosted the director’s confidence in their professionalism. A ten-minute break was called.

Off-camera, the two acted like strangers, not even exchanging glances, leaving the crew uneasy.

Xiao Tao handed Sheng Lan a bottle of water, confused by the situation. She whispered, “Lan-jie, I thought you and Teacher Lu got along well?”

Sheng Lan didn’t even lift her eyelids. “Are we not getting along now?”

Xiao Tao didn’t dare say another word, laughing awkwardly, though she couldn’t help but admire them.

“You two really put in the work for the show.”

No one could’ve guessed they were this distant during the livestream.

Meanwhile, Lu Xueyin was in the makeup room, engrossed in studying the script as if every second counted.

As long as she was busy, she wouldn’t notice her surroundings.

And if she didn’t notice, she wouldn’t be the one feeling awkward.

To strangers, she might seem cold.

But Sheng Lan didn’t see her that way now. She’d seen through the act Lu Xueyin had a touch of social ineptitude.

Then again.

Their “distance” might just mean Sheng Lan had guessed wrong.

Ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye.

The next scene began filming.

It was Lu Xueyin’s solo shot, and it wasn’t going smoothly, three takes had already been NG’d.

The scene depicted the good girl she was playing, sitting alone in a classroom, enviously watching her classmates who all had companions. The moment she secretly decided to rebel, applying makeup in front of a mirror.

The close-up would focus on her lips as she applied lipstick.

This was an unexpected NG for everyone.

Three takes were still within an acceptable range.

The fourth take passed, and after it was done, Lu Xueyin requested a break on her own.

Though it was supposed to be a bare-faced appearance, for filming purposes, she still had light foundation on.

After the scene, only the lip makeup needed to be removed.

In the previous takes, her lips had been powdered for color.

Now, after removing the makeup, the paleness revealed was her natural lip color.

Sheng Lan, as if still immersed in the role, felt an intense urge to apply lipstick for her.

She had Xiao Tao send water and cake over to Lu Xueyin, who glanced in her direction but didn’t refuse.

Ten minutes later, filming resumed.

The reason the good girl sought out the delinquent, firmly resolved to rebel, was because after school, she had been cornered in the bathroom and had a bucket of cold water dumped on her from over the stall.

The slightly cruel plot brought with it the allure of wet clothes.

Lu Xueyin’s delicate features amplified her fragility, and with minimal makeup, her vulnerable situation made her seem even more fragile.

By the time she found Sheng Lan, her entire body was trembling.

Sheng Lan lounged in a worn-out leather sofa, smoking, her long legs resting on the ground, exuding a lazy yet sharp aura.

Tendrils of smoke curled around her face, making it hazy.

She pinched the cigarette between two fingers, slowly exhaling smoke, her red lips looking seductive.

The smudged lipstick on the cigarette butt was uneven, and the good girl’s blue-and-white school uniform starkly contrasted with the surroundings.

It was still a silent scene, no dialogue exchanged.

Sheng Lan scrutinized Lu Xueyin unabashedly.

Seeing her pale face, eyes filled with fear yet feigning composure, Sheng Lan inexplicably smiled.

Lu Xueyin pulled out a tube of lipstick from her pocket and applied it clumsily but resolutely.

It wasn’t full, nor even, with some color smudging outside the lines, yet it carried an indescribable mix of innocence and allure.

Summoning her courage, she moved closer to Sheng Lan, her eyes searching for the cigarette box yet it felt like she was surveying Sheng Lan’s body instead, finally finding her target.

Kneeling beside the sofa, she guided Sheng Lan’s hand, bringing the cigarette to her own lips.

She left a lipstick mark on it, overlapping with the one Sheng Lan had left.

Perfectly in character she didn’t know how to smoke and coughed after inhaling.

Sheng Lan took the cigarette away, pulling Lu Xueyin onto the sofa with one hand.

Then, wrapping an arm around her waist, she drew her into an embrace.

As their eyes met and their lips drew close just before the shot of their faces nearly touching in a kiss, the director cut to a close-up of Sheng Lan’s cigarette on the ground.

The overlapping lipstick marks looked like they were kissing.

Just like the two of them, entwined on the sofa.

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