After My Cross-dressing Cover Was Blown, the Movie Star Became My Accomplice - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

◎No, that’s too offensive!◎

At high noon, the sun shone brilliantly. Looking past the eaves of the ancestral hall, one could see the undulating peaks of the surrounding mountains. In early spring, the slopes were already faintly dotted with the green breath of new life. Deep within the hall, a flickering bonfire had been lit; the rising heat distorted the distant view of the mountains.

Atop a tall wooden stake in the middle of the pool stood Mu Yao, his eyes covered with black cloth. He stood perfectly still, without a single tremor. Beneath him, a person stood beside every stake in the water, their expressions solemn. Cheng Zeyi stood by the tallest stake, his eyes fixed on Mu Yao.

A low, sobbing wail suddenly erupted—a sound like the breathing of the mountains. It was the unique voice of the Large Lusheng, played by the village’s oldest musician. The silver timbre of the Lusheng was thick and weathered, carrying the weight of time and the village’s collective memory of the peaks. Soon, more Lushengs joined in, their sounds layering into rhythmic waves. The tone was not joyful; it carried a sense of solemnity and ancient sorrow.

Thump!

A heavy, soul-shaking drumbeat abruptly joined the chorus. It was the village’s ancestral hide-covered wooden drum. The drumstick fell heavily, like a massive heartbeat. The moment the drum sounded, Mu Yao moved. He began to leap and dance across the stakes in sync with the rhythm.

Mu Yao’s movements were crisp and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. He stepped onto the stakes as precisely as if his eyes weren’t covered at all. His dancing was standard and full of ritualistic grace amidst the solemn music. With every spin and leap, the silver ornaments on his clothes chimed melodiously. As he danced, the stakes vibrated slightly, sending ripples through the pool as if the power of the ritual dance was being transmitted into the earth.

Mu Yao gradually lost himself in the dance. He forgot his initial nervousness and the unease brought by the darkness; it felt as if he could hear a call coming from the great mountains.

As the music quickened toward the finale, Mu Yao reached the climax of his dance. However, the moment he leaped, he suddenly felt a distinct pulling sensation at his ankle. He instinctively looked down, only to realize that his world was pitch black—he couldn’t see the culprit pulling him.

“Ah!!”

To everyone watching, their hearts leaped into their throats the moment Mu Yao jumped. Just when they thought he would land steadily, they saw his figure tilt uncannily. Kong Yanfei cried out in alarm, instinctively covering her eyes; she was the furthest away and had no time to save him.

Mu Yao was currently at the tallest stake, only one step away from landing on its peak. Standing right beside it, Cheng Zeyi’s pupils constricted. He lunged forward with explosive speed. Cheng Zeyi’s lunge wasn’t just to catch Mu Yao; he intended to use himself as a ladder to send Mu Yao back onto the stake.

Mu Yao’s daze lasted only a split second. He immediately began recalling the positions of the stakes to save himself, but as he fell, he suddenly felt the void beneath his feet replaced by something solid. He had stepped onto a soft yet firm body.

“Mu Yao, keep dancing.”

Cheng Zeyi’s voice reached Mu Yao’s ears clearly. Mu Yao instantly realized he was standing on Cheng Zeyi’s shoulder. His heart skipped a beat, but there was no time to think. Using Cheng Zeyi’s shoulder as a springboard, Mu Yao relied on his memory to leap to a nearby stake and followed the rhythm to the highest point, completing the final movement.

As his arms extended outward, the music stopped abruptly. The world fell into instant silence; in the darkness, Mu Yao could only hear his own breathing. The Village Chief stared blankly at the person atop the high stake before snapping back to reality and bursting into applause.

The applause jolted everyone awake. Whether it was the guests before the camera or the staff behind it, everyone clapped from the bottom of their hearts. Mu Yao removed the black cloth from his eyes and looked down at Cheng Zeyi standing in the water.

“Mu Yao, you succeeded. You did it. Excellent!” Cheng Zeyi looked up with a smile in his eyes. He was clutching his shoulder, and a trace of mud was visible through the gaps of his fingers—the spot where Mu Yao had just stepped.

“Is your shoulder hurt?” Mu Yao asked as he skillfully moved across the stakes, reaching the lowest one and jumping to the ground.

“No, you’re very light. I’m not hurt.” Cheng Zeyi climbed out of the pool and shook his head, his expression showing no abnormality.

“Don’t lie. I couldn’t see where I was stepping and didn’t hold back. How could you not be hurt? I’ll ask the crew’s doctor for some medicinal liniment for you later.” Despite Cheng Zeyi’s stoic face, Mu Yao felt he must have sustained some injury; it was hard to avoid in that situation. Under the lens of the cameras, he couldn’t check directly, so he decided to wait until they returned to the inn.

The crowd gathered around. Kong Yanfei and Qu Fu both offered smiling congratulations. Having learned the dance with Mu Yao, they knew how fast he had mastered it. When the accident occurred, besides panic, a sense of pity had welled up in them.

“Sister Mu Yao, that was so terrifying just now. How did you suddenly… suddenly fall?” Kong Yanfei patted her chest, her face full of lingering fear.

“Yes, Mu Yao. It looked like something pulled you down. So strange.” Qu Fu’s expression was similar, but her eyes held a trace of suspicion. Behind Qu Fu, Bi Tu was uncharacteristically silent, his gaze toward Mu Yao quite complex.

“Though the ritual dance had a slight flaw, Ms. Mu Yao did not fall into the pool and completed the movements before the music ended. The mission is a success! In the new year, the Mountain God will continue to bless our Xiantao Village!” The Chief walked over smiling, followed by the burly men who had been guarding the stakes. They were each carrying an exquisite small paper bag. “These are gifts I prepared specifically for you. Guests, you may open them after you return to the inn!”

The men handed the gifts to the group. Although curious, no one opened them in front of the cameras. Despite receiving the gifts, they didn’t leave immediately; out of respect for the tablets displayed in the hall, they stayed to offer incense to the deceased.

Back at the inn, everyone returned to their rooms to rest while waiting for lunch. Mu Yao placed his gift box on the table and pulled out a chair to check the ankle the female ghost had grabbed. A black handprint had appeared on his skin, carrying a heavy ghostly aura—it looked like both a mark and a curse.

However, Mu Yao wasn’t afraid of this at all. He had long known how to remove such prints; they were a common tactic for ghosts. After clearing the mark, he slowly opened the Chief’s special gift. Inside was a finely crafted set of bamboo cups. The cups, of varying sizes, were lined up in a row, possessing a natural, rustic charm. The set also included a bamboo tea tray and teapot.

Mu Yao smiled, quite satisfied with this unique gift. Just as he was about to close the lid and pack it into his suitcase, he noticed an uneven spot on the edge of the box. He moved the padding protecting the tea set and pulled out a small braid woven from three strands of hair.

Mu Yao frowned, an ominous premonition rising in his heart. Whose hair is this? Three strands… is it from one person or three?

He instinctively thought of the two female guests. Both Qu Fu and Kong Yanfei had black hair, but each had subtle characteristics. Qu Fu’s hair was fluffy and slightly wavy, while Kong Yanfei’s was naturally straight. Looking closely, one could see slight differences among the three strands.

“The middle strand looks a lot like Qu Fu’s. But the other two… Kong Yanfei’s and mine?” Observing the hair, Mu Yao had a sudden realization. He reached back and pulled his wig forward to check the ends. Sure enough, he found an inconsistent patch at the tail of the wig—a small section of hair was missing.

“The volume is wrong. Half is missing.” Mu Yao was now certain these three strands came from the crew—likely himself, Qu Fu, and Kong Yanfei. But the amount of hair he was missing didn’t match the braid; clearly, half was gone. Where did the other half go?

In the adjacent room, Cheng Zeyi tossed his gift box aside and went to the bathroom. He took off his shirt, revealing a dark bruise blooming on his shoulder in the mirror.

“…I really do need to ask the crew for some ointment.” The smile had long vanished from his face. He looked coldly at his reflection; his shoulder was bruised, and his arm was still bandaged. For a variety show, he was certainly picking up a lot of scars. “This show really has frequent accidents. I need to have a proper talk with the production team.”

Thinking of how Mu Yao hadn’t fallen earlier, his expression softened slightly. Since he was already shirtless, he took a quick shower. After dressing, he reapplied medicine to his arm. Only then did he feel like opening the gift box. Seeing the exquisite tea set, he merely raised an eyebrow. Then, noticing something wrong with the box’s edge, he pulled out a braid.

“Hair?” Cheng Zeyi frowned, a hint of anger coloring his eyes. “Heh, a threat? Truly seeking death!”

A knock suddenly sounded at the door. Cheng Zeyi instinctively stuffed the hair into his pocket. He opened the door to find Mu Yao standing there with a tube of ointment.

“Movie King Cheng, I’m here to deliver the ointment. Did you just shower? Do you need me to help you apply it?” Mu Yao shook the ointment in his hand. He saw droplets of water on the tips of Cheng Zeyi’s hair and guessed he had just bathed—the perfect time for medicine.

“No… no need.” Cheng Zeyi was stunned. He instinctively shook his head, splashing a few drops of water from his hair onto Mu Yao’s face. Mu Yao closed his eyes reflexively.

“Sorry!” Cheng Zeyi apologized guiltily, turning toward the bathroom to grab a towel for Mu Yao. Then his steps faltered, realizing it might not be appropriate.

Giving a girl a towel I just used… No, that’s too offensive!