After Being Dumped by the Film Empress, My Acting Skills Soared - Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Failing to find anything to eat and unable to afford takeout, the two eventually cleaned themselves up and headed to the 24-hour self-service supermarket in the apartment complex. After much browsing, they returned with a pile of frozen foods that only required steaming or boiling, along with several packs of yogurt and Yakult.

Back home, Shao Niannian acted as the kitchen assistant for Jiang Yan.

The two of them hovered around the only pot of boiling water, their expressions so solemn they looked like they were participating in a major experiment concerning the survival of humanity.

“I think they’re done?” Jiang Yan poked a floating dumpling with a chopstick. “The tutorial videos all say that once they float, they’re cooked. Then you just toss them and eat.”

“Do you have an ancestral altar at home?”

“A what?”

Shao Niannian stared earnestly at the dumplings mixed with soy sauce, oyster sauce, and peanut butter, stating firmly: “We should take them to the altar and bow first. If we actually get food poisoning, at least we’ll have the gods’ protection. It might buy us enough time to reach the hospital.”

“Don’t be so dramatic…”

Jiang Yan rolled her eyes. “If someone actually dies from eating these, it’ll be a historical wonder. People would line up just to visit your grave.”

Whether the dumplings were good or not was secondary—at least they didn’t starve.

After eating, Niannian took the initiative to “wash” the dishes—which really just meant rinsing them under the tap and loading them into the dishwasher for sterilization.

When she came out, Jiang Yan had already gathered her clothes for a shower. Worried Niannian would be bored alone in the living room, she told her the box next to the TV cabinet was full of discs she could look through.

“Discs?” Niannian thought Jiang Yan had misspoke. In this day and age, who still watched movies on physical discs? Most homes didn’t even have the equipment for it.

However, when she pulled open the cabinet, she realized Jiang Yan hadn’t been exaggerating. Inside were rows of heavy cinematic discs, their covers marked with ink specifying the year and title. The oldest dated back to remastered versions of classic black-and-white comedies.

The collection’s market value was likely in the hundreds of thousands.

The price tag immediately cured Niannian’s desire to rummage through them. She retreated to the sofa. Since her phone was confiscated until the live stream ended at 10 PM, she truly had nothing to do. She began planning the task set by the production crew: creating a backstory to bridge their two characters.

Niannian’s role card was a Student. She didn’t know Jiang Yan’s yet, but she guessed they were a matched pair.

“I feel like the ‘Student’ role has zero secrecy potential…” Niannian muttered. “No matter what plot I create, it feels like it’ll be exposed instantly. What’s the point of this scriptwriting?”

Moreover, the trajectory of their characters’ plot was described as a “quiet daily life”—seemingly an HE (Happy Ending), but actually a BE (Bad Ending).

“…”

When Niannian first saw that description, she had raised an eyebrow. Talk about “nonsense literature.”

Niannian sat cross-legged on the sofa, lost in thought, trying to remember interesting things from her own school days. She realized that from primary school to high school, her life had mostly just… flowed with the current.

Her school clique consisted of only three people. She was the middle-of-the-road one; Su Chaoyue was buried in books due to family issues, knowing exactly what she wanted to be; and Gu Yizhi was a social butterfly who had been traveling since graduation.

Looking back, Niannian realized she had always lived in a strange loop—playing the Good Daughter, the Passing-Grade Actress, and the Secret Admirer. Even though she chose these paths herself, sitting here now, she felt as if an invisible force had been pushing her along until she became the version of herself she was today.

“This is… really hard.” Niannian tugged at her hair, groaning. Just then, the bathroom door opened. Perhaps it was a side effect of this “fake relationship,” but when faced with a problem, Niannian immediately remembered Gao Hui’s advice: “No couple survives without acting cute! If you hit a wall, get your partner to help!”

Niannian felt she had hit a wall. she looked up at the emerging Jiang Yan with a piteous expression.

The gaze was so intense it made Jiang Yan freeze in place. She walked over to the sofa and pinched Niannian’s cheek. “What’s wrong? Why the long face?”

“Can’t figure out the disc player?”

“No!” Niannian denied. Muscle memory from their training kicked in; she reached out and hugged Jiang Yan’s waist, nuzzling her face against the older woman’s stomach like a puppy. She pointed at the camera that was zooming in on them. “It’s bullying me.”

Camera: “?”

“How is it bullying you?”

“I can’t think of anything I can do with you. The production rules are so annoying. Isn’t that bullying?”

Jiang Yan leaned in, her voice low and tempting. “How about I come up with the plot, and you tell me your role card?”

“Wouldn’t that mean I lose?”

“Yes.” Jiang Yan’s hand moved from Niannian’s face to her earlobe. “But even if we lose, we can actually have fun for the rest of the days. We won’t have to guess identities. Isn’t that better?”

“Then will you tell me yours?” Niannian asked.

“No.”

Niannian snapped back to reality. she pushed the woman away and brushed off her clothes with mock disdain. “Forget it! You’re just too lazy to think and want to trick me! And I’d still have to guess what your role is?”

“Exactly. A fair trade.” Jiang Yan wasn’t bothered by the rejection. She sat on the coffee table and gestured toward Niannian. “Look, you trade your role for my creative writing. A soul for a soul. Perfectly balanced.”

Niannian smiled sweetly. “Who do you think is the idiot here?”

“I’m done talking to you.” Before heading to the shower, Niannian grabbed Jiang Yan’s hand and asked for her tablet. She went to the app store, downloaded a game, logged in, and handed it over. “Help me do my daily tasks.”

Jiang Yan looked down at a game interface filled with various 2D anime beauties. She remembered seeing the kids in her family play this. If she recalled correctly, this was a combat-style Yuri (Girls’ Love) romance game.

“Do I have to?” Jiang Yan looked up at Niannian, who was pulling pajamas from her suitcase.

“Why not?”

“What kind of girlfriend helps her partner clear a romance game?”

Niannian pointed directly at herself. “Me! Don’t worry, I won’t be jealous. They’re all my wives! I’ve been paying for them since the server opened. My wives are all gorgeous!”

Niannian looked at Jiang Yan with total sincerity. She sat beside her on the sofa and began clicking through her character gallery, introducing her “wives” one by one, finally showing off her favorite: Kafka.

“She’s so beautiful! Ugh, anyone who doesn’t love Kafka must have quit gambling in their past life! Can a person even see Kafka and resist pulling for her?”

Jiang Yan: “…” I don’t love her at all.

“So, how much have you spent on this character?”

“How can you measure love for a wife with money?” Niannian suppressed the painful memory of the ten thousand yuan she spent when her luck hit rock bottom. She forced a smile. “My love for my wife is priceless.”

“So you’re saying… your love for me has a price?” Jiang Yan’s lips curled into a smirk. She held up the tablet, where Kafka was performing an idle animation. “How much did you spend on her? How much do you love me? Between me and her, who do you choose?”

“If you can’t choose, don’t plan on sleeping tonight.”

“…”

In the end, Niannian gritted her teeth and hit the ‘Home’ button, returning to the tablet’s desktop. She leaned in with a smile and hugged Jiang Yan, whispering, “You’re obviously more precious and important.”

After all, if calculated by cold, hard cash, Kafka didn’t even cost as much as a single wheel on the car Niannian bought for Jiang Yan’s support. But in the long years of loving Jiang Yan from afar, Niannian had felt that those 2D characters living inside the screen—who only showed themselves to her—were the ones who loved her most.

Hearing this, Jiang Yan felt a strange sense of satisfaction, though she also found it slightly bizarre. Since when did I fall so far that I have to compete for affection with a drawing?

Jiang Yan, who had just threatened her with an ultimatum, begrudgingly agreed to help with the dailies, but with a warning: “Three strikes and you’re out. I won’t clear your tasks next time.”

“?” Niannian held up a single finger. “This is only the first time.”

“Three strikes, so I’m starting the count at two. Any objections?”

“No…”

Niannian clutched her clothes. “You’re the most precious. Whatever you say goes!”

As if I have a choice! I’m terrified that if I talk back, you’ll just smash the tablet and quit.