After a Contractual Romance with the Scumbag Movie Queen - Chapter 41

It’s quite common for actors to struggle with stepping out of character, especially for inexperienced newcomers like Jiang Tian.

Therefore, the crew didn’t think much of the brief moment when the two held hands and lingered.

When Jiang Tian approached, Wen Zhi casually asked, “Feeling better now?”

Jiang Tian gave a soft “Mm” and said, “Teacher Qi helped me.”

Wen Zhi glanced over at Qi Puzhi, recalling how Jiang Tian had held her hand and refused to let go. She had a feeling that Teacher Qi would likely have to sacrifice herself more to help Jiang Tian in the future.

The scene itself went smoothly, except for an issue with the sound recording during Jiang Tian’s piano performance, which needed to be re-recorded.

This time, Qi Puzhi didn’t have to act, so she sat leisurely in a nearby chair, her gaze resting on the young woman’s elegant profile.

She hadn’t heard that piece of music before, nor had she seen the stage’s lighting and set design in this context.

The only familiar element was the person playing the piano, yet even she was dressed in the style of the last century, which should have felt somewhat unfamiliar.

Still, the scene felt so vividly familiar, as if it had happened just yesterday.

After dinner with the crew, there was one final night scene to shoot.

The moon hid behind the clouds, and the sky grew dim.

By ten in the evening, the last scene in Wucheng wrapped.

As they packed up, Ye Su absentmindedly listened to the musicians chatting and laughing.

It wasn’t until someone mentioned the name “Pei Ying” that she focused her attention.

“Yeah, I overheard this afternoon, Young Master Li’s servant came specifically to tell Pei Ying to spend the night at the Li family’s courtyard in Xizhuang.”

“What kind of luck does Pei Ying have? Young Master Li hasn’t grown tired of her in years and won’t allow anyone else to covet her.”

“With her looks, it’s understandable.”

Ye Su knocked on the door of Pei Ying’s dressing room.

When the door opened, the words on Ye Su’s lips suddenly faltered.

Over this period, she and Pei Ying had lived and worked together, often sharing the same stage, and they knew each other’s routines well.

After each performance, Pei Ying would remove her makeup and change into simple, comfortable clothes.

But now, not only had she not removed her makeup, it seemed as if she had reapplied it. She had also changed into an elegant cheongsam, her figure graceful and slender.

It looked as though she had an important engagement.

Pei Ying asked, “Why are you staring?”

Ye Su snapped out of it. “A-Ying, shall we head back together?”

They always went back together; there was never any need to ask.

Pei Ying immediately understood that Ye Su had either heard something or guessed something.

“I’m not going back tonight,” she said. “Be careful on your way.”

After a pause, as if uneasy, she added, “Never mind, I’ll walk you back first.”

Ye Su seemed unconcerned about her own safety and instead fixed her gaze on Pei Ying, asking, “Are you going to see Young Master Li?”

Pei Ying noticed the inexplicable concern in the young woman’s eyes and replied calmly, “What’s the matter?”

Ye Su pressed her lips together, shook her head, and said nothing.

Pei Ying’s residence was close to the theater, just a short walk away. Whenever they walked this path together, they would chat about the day’s performance or other lighthearted topics, but tonight, an unspoken tension hung in the air.

The only sound in the alley was the muffled, rhythmic click of Pei Ying’s high heels.

Standing in front of the desolate, worn-down building, Pei Ying said, “Go on up.”

She turned to leave but felt a hand grasp her wrist.

Pei Ying paused and looked back at Ye Su, asking patiently, “What is it?”

Ye Su’s gaze seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, yet what finally escaped her lips were but a few faint, wind-like whispers.

“Is it absolutely necessary?”

Her usually bright and spirited eyes appeared somewhat dim under the clear moonlight.

For some reason, that expression of hers stirred a bitter ache in Pei Ying’s heart as well.

Pei Ying tightened her grip on the handbag, her smile at the corners of her lips as faint as a phantom. “Ye Su, I warned you long ago, the opera house is a place that devours people, and I am merely one tainted by its filth.”

Her trailing words dissolved into the boundless desolation of the night.

In the end, Ye Su said nothing. She merely nodded, released her hand, and turned to walk back into the small building.

The young woman’s posture remained as straight and proud as a pine tree, gradually disappearing behind the mottled corner of the wall.

Pei Ying returned home early the next morning, before daybreak.

She entered quietly, careful not to disturb Ye Su’s sleep, only to find the bed empty.

She wasn’t in the bathroom or the kitchen either.

Worry quickly surfaced in her heart. The handbag she had just set down was picked up again as Pei Ying slipped her shoes back on, ready to go out and search.

Before she could finish changing her shoes, the lock on the door clicked.

The moment she saw Ye Su’s face, Pei Ying’s anxious heart settled, and she silently let out a sigh of relief.

“Ah Ying?” Ye Su looked at her with bleary eyes, seemingly surprised by her early return.

Before Pei Ying could ask where she had been, she caught the scent of alcohol emanating from Ye Su.

Frowning, she watched as Ye Su stumbled through the doorway, tripping over the threshold. Pei Ying quickly reached out to steady her.

Ye Su was slightly taller than her, and as she slumped weakly, Pei Ying couldn’t support her weight.

In the end, Ye Su tumbled straight into her arms, and the force of it sent Pei Ying stumbling backward, landing seated on the floor.

The scent of alcohol mingled with the fragrance of bath soap on the young woman’s body wasn’t unpleasant.

Pei Ying tried to help her up but felt Ye Su push her hands away, wrapping her arms around Pei Ying’s neck instead, seemingly unsure of what she was doing.

“What are you doing?” Knowing it was futile to argue with a drunk, Pei Ying asked in confusion, momentarily refraining from stopping her.

She allowed Ye Su’s warm, restless breaths to linger against her skin.

Only when Ye Su, with her hazy, intoxicated eyes, had thoroughly inspected her neck did Pei Ying realize,

She was looking for a hickey.

A sudden surge of inexplicable bitterness and irritation welled up inside Pei Ying. She grabbed Ye Su’s hands and asked, her tone icy and deliberate, “What? If there were a hickey, would you think I’m dirty and find another place to stay?”

Though Ye Su seemed too drunk to understand, she shook her head vigorously at these words, like a rattle-drum.

Breaking free from Pei Ying’s grasp, she wrapped her arms around Pei Ying’s neck again, leaning in until their noses touched, and nuzzled gently like a puppy. “Ah Ying could never be dirty.”

The young woman’s beautiful eyes, reddened from drink, shimmered with a tenderness that could easily soften anyone’s heart.

In an extremely soft, plaintive voice, she murmured, “It’s just that I’m too greedy, I want to have Ah Ying all to myself.”

Pei Ying froze, the shimmer in the young woman’s eyes rippling into the depths of her heart, stirring waves of an emotion she had never felt before.

At that moment, Pei Ying didn’t understand what those ripples meant. She only stiffened slightly, her eyelashes trembling uncontrollably as the young woman’s teeth playfully nibbled at the soft flesh of her cheek.

It was too ticklish. And she, too, seemed intoxicated by the scent of alcohol surrounding them.

Finally, her voice trembling, she said, “Ye Su, be good.”

From that day on, both of them avoided discussing matters related to the Li family.

After Ye Su sobered up, she never inquired about the details of Pei Ying’s visit to the Li family that night, and Pei Ying didn’t ask why Ye Su had drowned her sorrows in alcohol or what she meant by “having you all to myself.”

Pei Ying still went to stay overnight at the Li family every few days, but Ye Su no longer drank because of it.

When Pei Ying returned home the next morning, she would always find Ye Su obediently sleeping in bed.

Only her eyelashes trembled slightly, her skill at pretending to sleep was not particularly convincing. Dark circles always lingered under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept all night.

Pei Ying couldn’t understand why she cared so much.

In daily life, Ye Su remained gentle and obedient, caring for and looking after Pei Ying, showing no signs of looking down on her because of it.

Yet, on the mornings after Pei Ying’s overnight outings, Ye Su would become unusually silent, even struggling to meet her gaze.

And this struggle, as time passed, grew deeper and heavier, weighing on both their hearts.

Pei Ying thought she should ask. They should talk about it.

But she didn’t know how to bring it up.

Since she didn’t speak, Ye Su remained silent as well. The two maintained a harmonious cohabitation, yet it felt as if a thin, hazy film separated them, obscure and ambiguous.

Until that day.

As the opera house industry in Wu City grew increasingly prosperous, competition among the opera houses intensified, first comparing facilities and services, then vying for the novelty of their scripts.

The manager had procured a pile of translated foreign storybooks from who-knows-where and asked everyone to take them home to read and pick out the interesting ones.

That evening, the opera ended early, and after bathing, Ye Su and Pei Ying were far from ready to sleep.

Remembering something, Pei Ying rummaged through her bag and pulled out the storybook she had casually picked up.

“Do you want to read it?” she asked, waving it at Ye Su.

“Mm.”

So the two lay in bed, propping pillows behind them as backrests, and read the book together.

At first, nothing seemed amiss, it merely described how a wealthy young lady and her maid, who had grown up together, were as close as sisters.

When the young lady reached marriageable age, she was betrothed to a family.

Pei Ying turned the page calmly, and they continued reading together.

But that calmness soon froze.

From that moment on, the previously conventional plot felt to Pei Ying like a runaway horse, with every word charging headlong in an unpredictable direction.

The maid expressed her unwillingness for the young lady to marry, pressing her firmly against the door and kissing her fiercely.

Not only was the young lady unshocked, but she boldly pushed the maid down onto the bed.

The storybook used bold language, vividly and meticulously describing the scene.

Pei Ying’s hand trembled slightly as she turned the page. Glancing at the next page and seeing the scene still raging intensely, she closed the book.

Her voice sounded composed: “Let’s not read anymore.”

But Ye Su remained silent for a long while. Pei Ying turned her head and found herself caught in the young woman’s profound gaze.

The warm, yellow light in the room was bright and cozy, yet it couldn’t illuminate the shadows in those eyes.

“The maid stared down at the young lady beneath her; though usually gentle, her eyes now held a dark glint, like a wolf’s.”

The sentence they had just read surfaced clearly in Pei Ying’s mind.

As Pei Ying and Ye Su locked eyes, their breathing grew uneven, and Pei Ying’s hand on the bed involuntarily clutched the bedsheet.

Ye Su gazed at her, her soft fingertips gently brushing Pei Ying’s cheek, her words whispered like a murmur: “Ah Ying, you go to the Li family so often. How is it that just a few lines of text have made you blush like this?”

The sensation of fingertips brushing past was slightly ticklish. Pei Ying’s body reacted inexplicably strongly to it, even trembling faintly.

Her heart was beating far too intensely, as if the obscure barrier that had long been brewing between them stretched and contracted with each beat, over and over again.

It felt as though it might shatter under the strain at any moment.

And Ye Su’s actions decided it, in the very next second.

Amidst slightly hurried breaths, she cupped Pei Ying’s face and kissed her directly.

The kiss was as thin as paper, yet it seemed to effortlessly fill the small room.

So full that Pei Ying momentarily forgot to breathe.

She should have pushed her away.

But her limbs felt weak.

“Cut!”

Jiang Tian slowly released Qi Puzhi.

Qi Puzhi’s breathing was slightly hurried, and she gently pursed her lips.

Hidden beneath the blanket, one of her hands silently pinched Jiang Tian’s waist.

For the kissing scene, the crew had agreed to use a fake angle, due to the framing of this particular shot, the desired effect could be achieved without the actors actually kissing.

Everyone tacitly assumed that actors preferred to minimize intimate contact, so they thoughtfully suggested using a fake angle here.

But just now, Jiang Tian had cupped her face and pressed her lips directly against hers.

Fortunately, with the camera angles set up on set, it was impossible to tell whether they had actually kissed or not.

Wen Zhi watched the playback, her eyes lighting up: “Good, from this angle, it looks like they’re really kissing. Using a fake angle was definitely enough.”

Qi Puzhi: “…”

Others use fake angles to pretend to kiss on set, but they were actually kissing while pretending it was a fake angle.

They’re really playing with fire.jpg