Acting as the Vicious Second Lead [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 11

High heels clicking, running through the sweltering heat, acting as if her life depended on it—such grueling labor did not exist in the world of the pampered Qin Xiaoxiao.

Stepping out of the makeshift dressing room, draped in a deep crimson qipao, Qin Xiaoxiao brought her fingers together before her eyes to shield them from the scorching sunlight. Stray beams leaked through the gaps of her fingers and into her eyes. The sunlight settled in her dark pupils, plating her irises with a shimmering highlight. At a glance, those bright eyes seemed even more dazzling than the sun itself.

Glancing at the director nearby, she narrowed her eyes slightly and sauntered up behind him.

“Director,” she said in a ghostly tone, “can we cut that chase scene?”

“Look at me,” she continued, her voice demanding despite the questioning phrasing. “I’m dressed like this. If I fall and get hurt, can you take responsibility for that?”

The director, who had been busy running around, froze. He set down his work and turned to look at her. His gaze traveled down the form-fitting qipao to her delicate, hollow-out kitten heels.

After a moment of observation, he gave a forced laugh. “About that… we specifically chose low heels for you. Just be careful while running. We’ll have staff members standing by to catch you if you trip. Everyone is working hard here; let’s try to be a bit more understanding.”

Qin Xiaoxiao remained unmoved. “No.”

Hearing this, the director’s demeanor suddenly shifted, becoming uncharacteristically firm. “Miss Yin Ni, don’t forget—we signed an agreement. You need to show some professionalism. You can’t just quit whenever you feel like it.”

Though his logic was thin, his temper was thick. He straightened his back, seemingly growing an inch taller in an attempt to look intimidating. Inwardly, however, he was breaking a sweat, praying she wouldn’t cause a scene.

In reality, dangerous stunts were usually handled by body doubles. But that treatment was reserved for big-name stars with powerful backgrounds; it was rare to hire a double for a minor supporting role.

The producer had previously sent word that the female lead role was reserved for Yin Ni. Since the lead’s scenes were quite easy, they hadn’t bothered preparing a stunt double at all.

Who could have predicted that man proposes, but God disposes?

Given a stack of roles to choose from, she had ignored the “flower-pot” female lead and instead picked the most thankless villainess. Who else was there to blame? Furthermore, this scene required a close-up of the face, otherwise, the quality would suffer. Finding a double who wasn’t just the same build but also looked like her was no easy task.

That morning, she was the one who insisted on finishing her scenes early to wrap up her part. He had believed her. He had cooperated. And the result? A declaration that she was “throwing in the towel,” which would delay the entire production schedule.

Had he known it would come to this, he never should have let her have her way. The more the director thought about it, the angrier he got, his face flushing with a mix of rage and regret.

It’s one thing for her to act out, but why did I go along with it?

Then, a memory flashed through his mind: the image of her at the hotel entrance, that willful smile at the corner of her lips and the confident sparkle in her eyes. She had looked like a dark horse charging through a final—utterly sure of victory.

Back then, he had perhaps been deceived by her aura of certainty, or maybe he was just blinded. He hadn’t found her conceited; instead, he felt she was reliable and her requests were reasonable.

Heh.

“Hey.”

Seeing the director’s face twisting toward a total meltdown, Qin Xiaoxiao arched an eyebrow and said coldly, “I didn’t say I was quitting. I’m trying to discuss this with you.”

“Discuss what?” he asked wearily.

“I’m so delicate; there’s no way I can run fast,” Qin Xiaoxiao said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She twirled a lock of hair over her shoulder and added leisurely, “So, in a moment, I’ll just jog slowly. After the shoot, tell the post-production team to fast-forward the footage by a few times the speed.”

Director: “…” Director: “…”

Too clever. Far too clever.

While the suggestion sounded absurd at first, the more he thought about it, the more feasible it became. At the very least, jogging would reduce the safety risks and was easy to execute. It wasn’t an unreasonable demand.

The director frowned in thought for a moment, then glanced at the radiant woman who stood as unyielding as a stubborn rock. He nodded quickly, fearing she might change her mind. “We’ll do it your way!”

Having forced a consensus, the director went to inform the post-production crew, reminding them to speed up this specific scene by three times once it was recorded.

Shortly after, the lead actors finished their makeup and changed into their police uniforms. The audio and camera crews were in position.

At the Gardenia Intersection, the three actors stood at their marks, ready to go. A “Filming in Progress” sign stood by their feet.

“Action!”

The director snapped the clapperboard.

Instantly, the characters sprang to life.

Qin Xiaoxiao, hair loose and wearing her qipao, stepped forward. Her pace was leisurely, yet her expression was one of extreme tension. Sweat trickled down the elegant curve of her cheek, smudging her exquisite makeup. As she fled, she followed the script, looking back with a forced look of panic.

Behind her, Qu Li—looking exceptionally beautiful in her police uniform—was in hot pursuit. Her soft face was free of makeup, giving her an air of simple elegance. Under the direct sun, her skin warmed, taking on a gorgeous pearly-pink hue. Her clothes were neat, her posture upright, and her expression carried the righteous aura of a police officer.

Compared to the disheveled Qin Xiaoxiao, the two were like clouds and mud—worlds apart.

Off-camera, the crew held their breath. The cinematographer didn’t dare slack off, panning the lens and adjusting the angles to keep the background out of focus as much as possible. Otherwise, when sped up, the swaying leaves and falling petals would move too fast, making the shot look bizarre.

The director stared unblinkingly at them, worried something would go wrong. However, Qin Xiaoxiao’s seasoned acting put him at ease. That look of trepidation and those minute facial expressions were flawless.

Satisfied, the director picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He was starting to change his opinion of Yin Ni. He hadn’t expected that someone who seemed so flippant would actually have real talent.

However, before he could finish his swallow, the unexpected happened, slapping him in the face with reality.

The woman running in front had looked back at Qu Li and momentarily dazed out. Failing to see the path clearly, she stepped on a patch of fallen petals. Her foot slipped, and her body tilted uncontrollably.

The whistling wind rushed past her ears, accompanied by the sound of the director choking on his water.

Qin Xiaoxiao’s face turned pale. Instinctively, she reached out to protect her head.

Seeing this, Qu Li suddenly accelerated. With quick eyes and steady hands, she reached out and caught her.

Held around the waist by a pair of lily-white arms, Qin Xiaoxiao managed to stabilize herself. Her back was pressed tightly against the other woman’s soft chest. Standing in such an intimate posture, she knit her brows in discomfort.

“Are you alright?” Qu Li asked.

The popular starlet’s concerned voice drifted into her ear, her warm breath brushing against Qin Xiaoxiao’s neck.

Qin Xiaoxiao shrank her neck back and hurriedly broke free. Her face flushed red with embarrassment as she snapped, “I… do I look like I’m ‘not alright’ to you?”

She was completely unaware that her fair, delicate earlobe had been turned crimson by the other’s breath, and her sensitive skin was now a deep shade of pink.

She continued to huff and puff defiantly, utterly failing to notice that Qu Li’s gaze was growing increasingly dark.