After Entering A Marriage of Convenience With My Omega Rival - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: “So Ferocious in Front of Me? Turns out You’re Just a Paper Tiger at Home.”

When the call connected, Chu Wu was standing outside the glass doors of her laboratory. She had likely just finished work; she pulled off her mask and leaned closer to the camera.

“Busy? It took you so long to pick up.” Chu Wu’s eyes were sharp. “Your face is so red—you’re not drinking alone, are you?”

Jian Jixing’s tone was a bit sharp: “Get to the point.”

Chu Wu rubbed her nose, feeling baffled. “I just happened to have time. I wanted to remind you that for Saturday’s livestream, there will be a host. Do you want to join as an anonymous viewer, or use your official account?”

Jian Jixing: “Official.”

Chu Wu pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. The video stayed on as Jian Jixing set her phone on the table and downed a glass of ice water.

“When are you two ever going to get along?” Chu Wu asked.

“Did she complain to you?” Jian Jixing asked flatly. A flicker of emotion crossed her face as she looked at the lens. “I never provoke her.”

Whenever Sheng Ruxi couldn’t win an argument, she would complain to Chu Wu. It was a recurring tactic, as if she believed this would strip Jian Jixing of her “courtship rights” with Chu Wu.

When will she stop being so childish?

Chu Wu was helpless. “What are you talking about? I treat both you and Ruxi like sisters. Didn’t I make that clear? I just don’t want you two bickering all the time.”

Chu Wu wasn’t an idiot. She knew that back in their youth, whether it was a book, a kitten, or a cup of milk tea—if it appeared between the two of them, they would fight over it. Since she and Jian Jixing were both Alphas, there was no possibility of attraction. And though Sheng Ruxi was an Omega, Chu Wu had set boundaries before going abroad.

Sheng Ruxi stayed in touch, but every conversation revolved around Jian Jixing. If Chu Wu didn’t know they had been enemies since childhood, she would have thought she was just a third party in their “foreplay.”

“Who’s bickering? She’s doing it for you,” Jian Jixing said with a smirk. “She told me today not to cry at your wedding.”

Chu Wu waved her hands frantically. “Stop it… You know Ruxi. She says things in anger. Do you really take her seriously? I think she’s just mad that someone else sat on your precious motorcycle.”

Someone sat on it?

Seeing Jian Jixing’s confused frown, Chu Wu realized she hadn’t heard. “You don’t know? I saw your awards photos yesterday. An actress named Meng Zhao posted a photo with your bike. Netizens are saying she looks ‘matched’ with it.”

Meng Zhao was a B-list starlet recently rising through variety shows, branded as “candid.” Now, she had posted a sweet photo leaning against Jian Jixing’s bike. Some fans were speculating that Jian Jixing was her secret benefactor, since the director famously never let anyone sit on her back seat.

“Who?” Jian Jixing asked.

Chu Wu was speechless. She knew Jian Jixing didn’t do “casting couches,” but she didn’t expect her to not even know the names of the people in the industry. She explained who Meng Zhao was.

Jian Jixing just hummed. “The back seat is only for a wife.”

Chu Wu didn’t catch the double meaning. “Then why did you let Meng Zhao sit there? It’s weird.”

“It must have been parked at the awards. She likely just leaned against it for a photo; she wouldn’t dare actually sit on it,” Jian Jixing said. “Why are you following this? Focus on your research, or you’ll be too broke to run your lab and have to borrow money from me.”

Chu Wu huffed. “I’m a researcher, not a hermit! If you weren’t so biting, you’d have a wife by now!”

Jian Jixing stayed silent. Only their parents and a select few knew about the marriage. Both she and Sheng Ruxi had reached a tacit agreement not to tell Chu Wu. Jian Jixing knew Sheng Ruxi didn’t want Chu Wu to know; as for herself, she didn’t care. She was just playing along with this “playing house” game.

After hanging up, Jian Jixing searched the web. The photo of Meng Zhao and her bike was trending at #3, right under Sheng Ruxi’s name. Meng Zhao was definitely leaning on it.

No wonder Sheng Ruxi didn’t want the bike. Now Jian Jixing was disgusted by it, too.

She checked the time: 10:05 PM. Sheng Ruxi insisted on her “beauty sleep” at 10:00 PM sharp. Jian Jixing didn’t send a text; instead, she used the “Poke” feature on the app.

[You poked “Little Green Bean’s” face, gave it a peck, and said, “Please, please, please.”]

Jian Jixing’s fingers were lightning-fast—she withdrew the message instantly. But a second later, she got a reply.

Little Green Bean: [Image] Little Green Bean: “Weren’t you begging quite smoothly just now?”

The image was a screenshot of the notification: Absolute Silence (Jian Jixing) poked your face, gave it a peck, and said, “Please, please, please.”

Jian Jixing noticed her contact name in the screenshot was “Absolute Silence.” She cropped it and sent it back: “Oh? How childish.”

Two minutes later: “Go rot in your Susceptible Period!!!”

…

Friday morning, outdoor set.

The crew was setting up. As spring turned to summer, the sun was growing hot. In front of the monitors, the director was nowhere to be found—until someone spotted him squatting by Sheng Ruxi’s lounge chair, holding a parasol for her and bowing.

“Xiao Sheng, just one more re-shoot, thank you for your hard work… Meng Zhao watched the playback and felt her emotions weren’t quite right. I’ll go talk to her and get her in the zone. We’ll try to do it in one take.”

Sheng Ruxi remained expressionless while her makeup artist touched her up. Her skin was so fair and delicate that even high-end powder felt like an insult to nature. She just nodded.

Director Zhang felt caught in a nightmare. In this drama, Sheng Ruxi was the lead, and Meng Zhao was a minor villain. Usually, the villain bullies the lead. But Meng Zhao had recently become popular and brought in more investment, giving her a voice. She claimed she wasn’t “evil enough” in a certain scene and that Sheng Ruxi didn’t look “wronged” enough.

It was a blatant power move. Meng Zhao had even bought afternoon tea for the crew to smooth things over.

Sheng Ruxi had been in a bad mood all week. Friday had arrived, and Jian Jixing hadn’t contacted her again. Seeing the contact name “Absolute Silence” made her heart ache with annoyance.

Her assistant, Tuanzi, wanted to tell her to look up—Meng Zhao was flaunting her presence across the set—but Sheng Ruxi was glued to her phone, her expressions shifting from a scowl to a smile.

Meng Zhao had five assistants and two makeup artists, outdoing Sheng Ruxi in sheer numbers. But Sheng Ruxi didn’t give her a single glance. Without an audience, the show was boring.

When filming started, Sheng Ruxi stood by the table. Meng Zhao picked up a glass of red wine, smirking. “This glass should have been a toast to your Best Actress win, but I guess it’s going on your face today,” Meng Zhao said. “I’m usually soft-hearted with cats and dogs, but for the sake of the film’s quality…”

“You’re right,” Sheng Ruxi said casually, tucking a strand of hair. “My ‘wronged’ expression wasn’t pitiful enough. After all… no one has ever dared to make me feel wronged before.”

The director signaled ‘Action.’ Meng Zhao threw the wine. “Ah! Ruxi, I… wait, sorry, let’s do it again!” Meng Zhao cried out.

The director was annoyed. “Meng Zhao, what’s wrong?” “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it, but seeing Ruxi’s face covered in wine made me want to apologize instinctively.”

Sheng Ruxi was calm. She wiped her face and glanced at Meng Zhao. “Again.”

On the second take, Meng Zhao threw the wine with force. Even though Sheng Ruxi closed her eyes, the liquid hit her face like a loud slap. Red wine dripped down her lashes. Even in this state, her beauty was startling.

Suddenly, Sheng Ruxi looked past the camera.

Jian Jixing was standing there, leaning against a post, an unreadable expression on her face. The director froze—when did this heavyweight arrive?

In the next second, Sheng Ruxi’s eyes filled with tears. The slight redness at the corners of her eyes showed her stubbornness. Her “wronged” expression was now vivid and heartbreaking. Director Zhang realized it was ten times better than the previous take.

If I didn’t see Jian Jixing standing there, I’d think it was real emotion… What incredible acting.

Jian Jixing walked toward the set, her gaze sweeping over Sheng Ruxi before landing on Meng Zhao. The director cut the cameras immediately.

Meng Zhao shivered, then felt a surge of joy. She saw a large truck behind Jian Jixing opening up to reveal stacks of coffee and desserts. She’s here to visit the set! No one else had this kind of grandiosity. Meng Zhao thought her photo-op with the bike had worked—was she the lead in Jian Jixing’s next film?

Meng Zhao leaned in toward her, but Jian Jixing walked right past her to stand in front of Sheng Ruxi. She didn’t help her wipe the wine. Instead, she said flatly, “Sheng Ruxi, did you never take acting classes?”

The set went silent.

Sheng Ruxi’s eyes flashed with annoyance. She was a classically trained actress. Did Jian Jixing really think she won her awards for nothing? She had looked “pitiful” for her, hoping for a kind word, but clearly she had expected too much.

Jian Jixing picked up a bottle of wine and filled a glass. “There’s a technique to how you throw wine and how the cheek receives it. Of course, those techniques are useless for an actress who has absolute authority over her ‘face.’ What are you laughing at?”

Jian Jixing’s gaze was a warning, but Sheng Ruxi understood the subtext. Her lips curled into a smile. The sun must have risen in the west—Jian Jixing just called me an actress with ‘absolute authority’ over beauty.

Jian Jixing handed the glass to Sheng Ruxi and turned to Meng Zhao. Her eyes were cold. “Your co-star doesn’t seem to know how to throw wine. The performance is too forced. As a trained actress, why don’t you give her some pointers?”

Jian Jixing smiled, a radiant but chilling expression. “Sheng Ruxi, come. Show your co-star how to throw wine. Do it until she learns.”

Before Meng Zhao could react, a glass of wine hit her face. Her makeup and hair were ruined. Without the “Movie Queen” glow to save the look, she looked genuinely pathetic.

“No, that angle wasn’t good for her to receive the shot,” Jian Jixing said, shaking her head. She waved away the makeup artist trying to help Meng Zhao. “Don’t bother. Pour more wine. Again. Keep adjusting the angle.”

Meng Zhao realized what was happening. Jian Jixing was saying her natural features weren’t “authoritative” like Sheng Ruxi’s—she had to be perfect to even look okay on film.

Sheng Ruxi was delighted. She channeled her inner “evil villain” and treated it like a water festival. She was a petty person by nature; since Jian Jixing had handed her the chance, she took it.

The second and third glasses went flying. “This angle is a bit off.” “This one isn’t great.” “This angle won’t do.”

Jian Jixing rejected every shot. Meng Zhao was a wreck. She realized Jian Jixing’s tongue was far more poisonous than she had imagined. She looked at Director Zhang for help.

Director Zhang: “It’s a rare chance to get a lesson from Director Jian! Learn well!”

Eventually, Jian Jixing smiled. “Forget it, it’s too much of a challenge. Everyone, take a break. Have some afternoon tea.”

Meng Zhao: “…” What do you mean, too much of a challenge?!

Jian Jixing took a large towel from Tuanzi and wrapped it around Sheng Ruxi’s head, rubbing her hair dry.

“Weren’t you quite ferocious in front of me?” Jian Jixing looked down, pinching Sheng Ruxi’s earlobe through the towel. “Turns out you’re just a paper tiger who only acts tough at home.”