A Scummy Alpha and An Award-Winning Omega Actress Fell in Love After an Arranged Marriage - Chapter 53.1

Once inside, they didn’t have much preparation time left.

Sheng Lan took Lu Xueyin to the third-floor living area, where she lifted the white cloth covering the sofa, its practical purpose being dust protection while its surface function was to create eerie atmosphere. Various props scattered across it came tumbling down.

Some props emitted rainbow-colored flashes upon hitting the floor, accompanied by imitated ghostly screams sounds meant to resemble ghost wails but undermined by obvious artificiality and the voice actor’s stifled laughter, significantly diluting the intended spooky effect.

Of course, for those genuinely frightened, such things could still fuel imagination, making them seem even more unsettling.

Sheng Lan casually kicked several props aside, then bent over the sofa to search its crevices, retrieving a soft rubber snake and a cheap wig. She then flipped the prop box disguised as a tissue holder which would spring open a large ghost head when touched and tossed it upside-down into the trash bin.

Patting the sofa, she called Lu Xueyin over, “We should discuss today’s livestream content.”

As she spoke, the ghost head toy sprang out with a series of “heeheehee” and “hahaha” creepy laughs.

Since it was upside-down, only the chipped bottom of the box peeked out from the trash.

Lu Xueyin: “…”

She really wasn’t scared.

Lu Xueyin sat down and promptly turned off her mic.

Sheng Lan praised her, “You’re understanding me more and more.”

She then followed suit by switching off her own mic.

Lu Xueyin ignored the comment and asked about her plans.

Sheng Lan pulled out paper and pen from her pocket. “The show is called ‘Trial Love Period.’ We’ve been ‘trial dating’ for a month now, what do you think of me?”

This house was much smaller than their main filming location, with comprehensive camera coverage inside.

Even with their mics off, the cameras still picked up audio, meaning their current conversation wasn’t entirely private from the audience.

Since it was a live broadcast, Lu Xueyin treated Sheng Lan’s question as part of the show’s script and nodded immediately.

Sheng Lan wasn’t surprised by her response. “So shouldn’t we move to the next stage?”

With the trial period over, it was time to enter matrimony.

Lu Xueyin averted her gaze, scanning the living room’s eerie setup green and red lights, along with haphazard props meant solely for horror and asked, suppressing her surprise, “A ghost marriage?”

Sheng Lan chuckled lightly. “We’re already ‘female ghosts’ here is a ghost marriage really too much?”

Lu Xueyin pointed out, “But we’re already a pair of ‘Matchmaker Ghosts.'”

She emphasized the words “a pair,” and Sheng Lan seized the opportunity. “Exactly. We have identity cards and task cards, we need to develop some narrative depth. This way, our interactions will leave a stronger impression.”

Overly designed elements risked feeling “manufactured.”

So while the script was planned, the emotions had to be their own.

Lu Xueyin lowered her eyes in thought.

Her exposure to horror films was minimal she hadn’t even finished watching one in full.

Her research on the subject fell into two categories:

One was Chinese-style horror, of which she only knew surface-level terms without deeper understanding.

The other was more sensational, often featuring eroticism, eerie desire, and graphic violence.

The current setting was a blend of East and West, a Western-style house filled with Chinese horror elements.

But a ghost marriage script couldn’t be executed with just the two of them.

While Lu Xueyin pondered, Sheng Lan had already sketched a simple mind map on the back of a talisman paper and handed it to her.

“You have veto power.”

Lu Xueyin still maintained her stance, “Don’t hesitate just because I’m afraid of this.”

She could handle it.

But after reading the brief content Sheng Lan had written, she might have to take those words back.

Sheng Lan had designed the script precisely because she knew Lu Xueyin was afraid of ghosts.

Beyond the common elements of a Ghost Marriage, she had woven in a “redemption” arc.

The draft was hastily written, very rough, with logical gaps that required imagination to fill.

Just like their previous interactive designs, the main performance would rely on keywords and improvisation.

Following a basic three-act structure, Sheng Lan outlined:

Opening Act: A pair of Matchmaker Ghosts.

Middle Act: Their falling out and separation.

Final Act: Reuniting as a pair, the Ghost Marriage theme of this performance.

Within this framework, she fleshed out the two Matchmaker Ghosts’ personas.

She even incorporated the trope of “the white moonlight was me all along” to create a sense of destiny.

To complement the redemption arc, there had to be a victim and a savior.

Ghost A: A woman forced into a Ghost Marriage, her mouth sewn shut, nailed inside a coffin unable to speak of her grievances or escape. Tasked with “breaking apart” couples, she believed everyone in the world was trapped in Ghost Marriages, so she tore them apart.

Ghost B: Ghost A’s lover, there to save her. Having suffered the same fate, she died after disrupting a Ghost Marriage. Too vengeful, she was silenced by others. Though unable to speak, she was tasked with “matchmaking,” taking the opposite extreme ensuring lovers stayed together.

The information gap between Ghost A and Ghost B drove the story.

The ending involved removing their masks, breaking the “curse.”

This crude little script was also a not-so-subtle metaphor.

Ghost A was Lu Xueyin, trapped in the shadows of her past, unable to speak of it, reacting viscerally to certain scenes and people.

From Lu Xueyin’s perspective, Ghost B was Sheng Lan’s artistic interpretation of herself.

But for Sheng Lan, it was also an obvious allegory.

She rejected the original novel’s plot she had never done those things, nor was she capable of such vile, illegal acts. Yet now, she couldn’t speak of it and had fallen in love.

Once the script was presented, Sheng Lan’s intentions no longer mattered, it was up to Lu Xueyin.

Would she understand? Would she be angry? Would she think Sheng Lan was meddling, deliberately reopening old wounds?

With time tight and cameras rolling, Lu Xueyin kept her composure and quickly responded, “We’ll need to refine it further.”

She understood Sheng Lan’s implications, the unspoken message beneath.

If she couldn’t face her past self, would she still be afraid after taking control?

Was she willing to take a step forward now, out of the shadows?

Years of fear weren’t so easily overcome. She had her own darkness, wondering if Sheng Lan just wanted to see her falter.

Yet, no matter how many times she’d been hurt, a spark inside her never died, she wanted someone to pull her out.

Always forgetting the pain once the wound healed, she was willing to try again if someone reached out.

Before diving into details, Sheng Lan reassured her, “The character cards and script are based on the show’s tasks and the current setting. No matter what we design, the core rule remains, everything revolves around the show’s theme: ‘romance.’ The horror elements are just props. You only need to look at me.”

To soften the horror effect, fulfill the role-play task, and maximize the finale’s hype, they could enforce full cooperation from the other two guest pairs and all NPCs staying true to their real-life top-perfectionist personalities.

“The wedding should be lively. Let’s throw a party.”

When the haunted house group activity card was about to begin, the two of them had joked about it earlier.

Lu Xueyin thought it would be quite challenging. “How do we gather everyone together?”

This was precisely the detail they needed to design.

The production team told them to hide, but they could take the initiative to “hunt.”

Additionally, in terms of narrative development, Lu Xueyin wanted to delve deeper.

Since they were doing it, they might as well go all out.

Following Sheng Lan’s initial character setup, A should dislike B, and in the second phase, they needed to resolve the misunderstanding.

Simply explaining why they were here and their motivations for “breaking up” or “matchmaking” wasn’t enough it needed to go deeper, serving their own purposes.

A could be someone trapped here waiting for a person, aligning with the hint card the production team gave Sheng Lan last time: “Just One Step Away.” The lover was within reach, but she didn’t know it.

B’s role would be expanded in action, clearly showing the audience what she did. They’d use the common horror trope of “rather be a vengeful ghost than reincarnate” as a label. A former lover who didn’t remember her and even hated her, seeing her as the corpse forced into a Ghost Marriage, yet she still chose to guard her for a lifetime.

After finishing, Sheng Lan commented, “Great, very Artificial Sweetness. Teacher Lu, have you been catching up on your studies lately?”

Throwing the party was Sheng Lan’s task, but when it came to CP interactions, Lu Xueyin wanted to put in more effort.

Ignoring Sheng Lan’s teasing, she added more scenes.

“We can use Talisman Paper scatter them around.”

“The masks can come off. I watched your footage from the clock tower, there’s a blind spot where we can fake a kiss.”

Once she got into the zone, Sheng Lan relaxed. “I know. The audience will think it’s fake, but we’ll actually kiss for real.”

Lu Xueyin asked if they were still discussing.

Sheng Lan raised her hands in surrender. “Go on.”

Continuing the discussion actually meant scouting the location, checking the size, environment, interior setup, camera angles, and lighting directions.

Unlike the first-floor hall, which was just an empty space with overhead lights where they only needed to dance, this time there would be multiple scene changes, added tasks, and unpredictable elements. Continuity could be set aside for now, the focus was on the final effect.

Like how certain characters in TV shows have their own BGM when they appear, or how some meetings are filled with intense eye contact, cutting back and forth between shots.

They needed to get into character the moment they saw each other, at least under the main camera, their performance had to be flawless.

Once the theoretical planning was done, it was time for practical execution.

Scouting the location would help them complete many setup tasks.

For example, gathering small NPCs along the way to hand out task cards to the already-arrived guests, “banishing” them to the Ghost Marriage site.

From the moment they started moving, the main storyline would kick in playing two mute characters.

Considering Lu Xueyin’s fear, Sheng Lan guided her initially, not diving straight into character.

Once they started moving, they turned on their mics.

Sheng Lan asked the audience, “Could you all hear our plan just now? My sister and I were conspiring loudly.”

Without phones, they couldn’t see the Scrolling Comments, so all reactions were pure guesswork.

With a partner, there was no need for a monologue Lu Xueyin played the straight man.

“It was a quiet conspiracy.”

Sheng Lan asked, “What were we conspiring about?”

Lu Xueyin said, “Figure it out yourself.”

The third floor had relatively dense NPCs, so Sheng Lan first took Lu Xueyin to the hallway entrance, where two NPCs dressed in knight armor stood.

Their outfits were relatively normal, minimizing Lu Xueyin’s fear as much as possible.

Sheng Lan asked them, “Do you know who we are?”

The NPCs remained silent.

Sheng Lan bent down to rummage through her bag for props, pulling out a spray bottle and aiming it at them. “Answer my questions now, and I might spare your ghostly lives.”

The bottle was as large as a mineral water bottle, with the words “Black Dog Blood” prominently displayed on the front.

Sheng Lan held it with practiced ease, her fingers positioned just right, not obscuring even the edges of the characters.

The two NPCs: “…”

The NPC on the left said, “You’re the guests.”

The NPC on the right added, “You should be afraid of us.”

Sheng Lan told them they had no sense of their place. “We’re the senior NPCs now. You all have to listen to us.”

Another stretch of silence followed.

Support