After A Secret Marriage Agreement With A Rival Omega - Chapter 80

Chapter 80

“I miss you, Sheng Ruxi.”

Returning to the private room alone, Jian Jixing kept her eyes straight ahead, but the moment she appeared, the room fell silent for a beat.

Jian Jixing didn’t care. Her purpose for returning was clear: she was only there to retrieve the handbag Sheng Ruxi had left behind.

Yi Yueyang hesitated, clearly sensing that the aura radiating from Jian Jixing was off. She had been fine before chasing after Sheng Ruxi, but now, Sheng Ruxi hadn’t returned, and Jian Jixing looked troubled. He wondered if they had quarreled outside.

Gu Shengci gathered that Jian Jixing wouldn’t be staying. As she picked up Sheng Ruxi’s things and headed for the door, he signaled the others not to say anything more.

“Leaving so soon?”

But there is always someone who doesn’t read the room—and speaks quite clearly.

Xie Jinheng had only been seated for a short while, and since Jian Jixing’s return, her gaze hadn’t left her.

“You guys eat first,” Jian Jixing said, her voice returning to the lazy tone she usually used with her team. “As for the female lead… we’ll talk later. I’m leaving now.”

Naturally, the others didn’t dare stop her, following up with polite pleasantries.

“Are you really leaving?” Xie Jinheng seemed completely oblivious to the subtle atmosphere and stood up as well. “I’ll see you out.”

The elevator happened to be on that floor, and Jian Jixing stepped inside without hesitation. Just before the doors closed, Xie Jinheng’s hand blocked them.

Jian Jixing didn’t move. Xie Jinheng smiled as she entered and stood beside her.

In stark contrast to the coldness emanating from Jian Jixing, Xie Jinheng always had a pair of gentle, smiling eyes. Whenever she hid her sharp edges, it was easy for others to feel a sense of closeness.

She was a gifted actress; even during her debut, she had coordinated exceptionally well with Jian Jixing. Back then, Jian Jixing had genuinely thought Xie Jinheng would be an excellent partner.

As the elevator began to descend, Jian Jixing remained silent. It was Xie Jinheng who spoke first.

“I read your script. Isn’t it essentially the same as the short film we collaborated on before? Jixing, if I didn’t know you’d be unwilling, I would have volunteered to play the role myself.” She paused and chuckled softly. “I have experience. I understand your vision better than any other actor.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve stood side-by-side like this. Have you really never thought of me, not even once?”

“Never.”

“We did talk about…” Xie Jinheng’s voice trailed off, her expression turning nostalgic as if recalling something. “Are you doing well?”

“…” Jian Jixing suddenly felt a pressing need to buy a wedding ring immediately. Even if Sheng Ruxi didn’t want to go public, it was surely fine for her to unilaterally declare her married status within the industry.

“Sheng Ruxi left? A while ago, whenever I went online, I saw many people saying your relationship with her had improved. I thought it was true, but I guess not.”

“That is none of your concern.”

“I was actually worried, thinking you might really do what the fans said and collaborate with her. What if feelings developed through acting?”

“Are you finished?”

The elevator doors opened. Jian Jixing stepped out, but Xie Jinheng followed her at a leisurely pace.

“Sheng Ruxi is probably your type—the person you chased during your student days, right?” Xie Jinheng pressed on. “She’s ‘Girl A’ who appeared in the dreams of your previous works, isn’t she?”

As it was Jian Jixing’s debut work, Xie Jinheng had been deeply involved. Many crossover directors choose deeply ingrained memories for their first film, and Jian Jixing was no exception. Back then, she used the film as an outlet for exploration, attempting to reconcile her adult longing for maternal and familial validation through the protagonist’s perspective.

The tone of the film was heavy. From a young age, the protagonist suppressed all needs under family discipline, suppressed budding emotions, practiced deliberate restraint in adulthood, and finally reached a state of reconciliation.

The short film was only thirty minutes long. Xie Jinheng, as a newcomer, carried the lead role and adapted remarkably well. It wasn’t until the final scene of reconciliation with the mother that things began to spiral out of control.

“Stop right there.” Jian Jixing didn’t want to say another word to her. She looked over. “I wonder how Teacher Qin is doing. She hasn’t appeared in public for a while. Not long ago, I heard someone mention she has a new girlfriend.”

Xie Jinheng’s gaze flickered for a moment, and for the first time that night, she shifted her eyes away from Jian Jixing. “Mhm, you’re quite concerned. She’s doing very well. A few days ago, she even told me to collaborate well with you, saying we have a destined connection.”

Jian Jixing narrowed her eyes, offering no reply. But she was certain that Teacher Qin would never say something like “collaborate well.”

The air in the underground garage was stagnant, making her feel stifled. Even though the area was vast and empty, standing there with Xie Jinheng for just a short while made her feel physically unwell. The discomfort started as a churning in her stomach and rose to her throat.

Back then, Xie Jinheng had been very cooperative in the early stages. It was Jian Jixing’s first time directing, and she had poured her heart and soul into it. During countless script discussions, Xie Jinheng was able to precisely articulate the meanings and atmospheres Jian Jixing wanted to convey. Consequently, Xie Jinheng gained a deep understanding of every aspect of the creation.

At first, Jian Jixing only noticed subtle changes in some lines. Actors have the freedom to improvise as long as the meaning remains intact, so she allowed it. Later, it was minor props. Then, Xie Jinheng began bringing the script to Jian Jixing to ask for direction, questioning if lines could be changed to “I love you” or other words with intense emotional weight.

Jian Jixing had even demonstrated for her, telling her that wasn’t how it should be played. By the time they reached the scene of reconciling with the mother, Xie Jinheng changed the protagonist’s line, “I want you to love me,” to:

“I love you, and I want you to love me.”

At that moment, Xie Jinheng’s gaze wasn’t the relief of a daughter toward her mother, but a hint of frantic, obsessive infatuation. Jian Jixing sensed something was wrong; under Xie Jinheng’s performance, the meaning had completely warped.

What she wanted to film, what she wanted to express, had been entirely altered.

Back then, Jian Jixing was just starting out, so no one was following her closely. However, a clip of her directing Xie Jinheng somehow made its way to Qin Yu’an. Later, Qin Yu’an came in person, and the fallout between her and Xie Jinheng was extremely unpleasant. Even the film itself struggled to see the light of day for various reasons.

After that, Xie Jinheng left the country to develop her career as a producer abroad. Hardly anyone knew about that past incident.

Jian Jixing pulled out her car keys and pressed the unlock button. Xie Jinheng raised both hands to her shoulders, shrugging helplessly. “Why so clinical? If I can’t keep you, I’ll head out first.”

With that, she left decisively, a complete contrast to how she had followed Jian Jixing down.

Jian Jixing had a splitting headache. She opened the car door and sat inside but didn’t start the engine. She rolled down the window and sat silently in her seat. Opening the center console, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, took one out, and mindlessly rolled it between her fingers before putting it back.

She didn’t have a smoking habit; it was just a nervous habit when she was deep in thought. After a long while, she finally let out a sigh, regained her composure, and checked her phone.

Before entering the private room, she still hadn’t managed to say the words Sheng Ruxi wanted to hear. She had spent too long preparing herself mentally; after three seconds of silence, Sheng Ruxi had simply hung up.

So, Sheng Ruxi wasn’t coming back tonight. Her realization had been a beat too slow, and now Sheng Ruxi wouldn’t know.

Jian Jixing stared at the phone screen. That feeling of nausea surged again, even though Xie Jinheng was gone. She leaned her head against the steering wheel, only to hear a sudden sound from her side.

“Who are you crying for?”

Jian Jixing’s shoulders stiffened. As if to verify the reality of the voice, she slowly raised her head and saw Sheng Ruxi standing there.

Sheng Ruxi still carried that wonderful scent, though a few strands of her hair were messy. She had removed her jewelry and draped a large, thin shawl over her shoulders. She had clearly left—she hadn’t been wearing those when she arrived.

Jian Jixing didn’t understand. Why was Sheng Ruxi back by her car?

“You…”

“Open the door,” Sheng Ruxi said, looking at her quietly. “Come out and open the door for me.”

Jian Jixing’s brain was struggling to keep up, but she immediately got out and did as she was told.

Sheng Ruxi didn’t sit in the passenger seat; she sat in the back. Without hesitation, Jian Jixing abandoned the driver’s seat and joined her in the back.

“Why did you come back?”

“I forgot something,” Sheng Ruxi said, glancing at the shimmering handbag on the passenger seat. “And I forgot to hear a certain sentence.”

In reality, the car picking her up had already driven two kilometers away before she made the driver turn back. Sheng Ruxi had told herself that if she hit three green lights, she would forgive Jian Jixing—but she hit a red light immediately upon turning around.

She had no choice but to lower her standards, telling herself that if she saw even one green light, it would count. After that, the path was clear. She took it as a sign from above. She had intended to call Jian Jixing as soon as she got out of the car, but then she saw her getting into the vehicle.

She had only seen the back of Xie Jinheng and couldn’t hear what they were discussing. However, seeing Jian Jixing sit in the car alone, Sheng Ruxi paused. She felt that, at that moment, Jian Jixing looked like she desperately needed to be alone.

Tonight, she had seen too many different sides of Jian Jixing. She had so many questions she wanted to dump on her. She was very angry, but even in her anger, she had come back to find her. Jian Jixing had to give her—but for some reason, the moment she saw Jian Jixing lean her head against the steering wheel, Sheng Ruxi only wanted to hold her and pet her head.

What was Jian Jixing thinking? She really wanted to know. Even more than wanting to hear an “I miss you,” she wanted to know the source of Jian Jixing’s sadness.

“What… sentence?”

Jian Jixing finally realized that Sheng Ruxi had doubled back solely for her. “Your bag is right here.”

It’s not the bag I forgot, Sheng Ruxi said in her heart. She looked at her. “What are you thinking about?”

“…Nothing.”

Sheng Ruxi suddenly leaned forward, reached out, and closed all the car windows. “Then why did you pick up your phone to check?”

The moment the windows rolled up with a soft thud, it felt as though something had settled in Jian Jixing’s heart. She subconsciously swallowed. Having successfully closed the windows, Sheng Ruxi moved back, but this time, she sat sideways on Jian Jixing’s lap.

The words she intended to say changed in an instant.

The soft weight falling into her arms robbed Jian Jixing of her ability to be stubborn. She gazed at her. “I miss you, Sheng Ruxi.”

Sheng Ruxi’s cheek brushed close. “And what else, Rongrong?”

Jian Jixing couldn’t take it anymore and followed her lead. “I miss you so much I can’t stand it. Let’s go home, okay?”

“You can’t stand it, yet you can wait until we get home?” Sheng Ruxi finally broke into a smile, her voice soft and airy. “Can we… in the car?”

In that instant, Jian Jixing finally understood why Sheng Ruxi had gone straight for the back seat.