After Redeeming the Female Lead, I Faked My Death and Escaped - Chapter 35.1

It wasn’t until late that night that Ying Xu realized she had once again become a “minor sensation.”

The video was posted by an unverified marketing account. The content was simple just a third-person perspective clip of Ying Xu acting on set. The footage was crystal clear, perfectly capturing her beauty.

However, the caption began with, [How would you rate Ying Xu’s acting?] followed by a lengthy recount of her past conflicts with Gu Qingzhu. As soon as it was posted, it sparked heated discussions.

Ying Xu’s notorious reputation needed no elaboration. Most assumed her absence from the public eye was due to shame, a voluntary retreat from the industry.

Yet now, after such a short time, Ying Xu reappeared, not only praised for her acting but also continuing to collaborate with Gu Qingzhu.

What did her previous apology even mean, then? And what did that make Gu Qingzhu, the supposed victim?

Public outrage flared instantly. Some condemned Qinghong Entertainment and the production team for being unethical, while others snidely insinuated that Ying Xu had powerful connections. Of course, a small minority remained neutral observers, but even a casual compliment would quickly get them labeled as her fans.

The trending topic was soon suppressed clearly, this time, Gu Qingzhu hadn’t stood idly by.

Scrolling through the thousands of new hate messages in her inbox, Ying Xu quickly lost interest.

Just then, a notification popped up a video shared by a contact named [Xiao Yu].

After watching the video, Ying Xu typed out her thoughts and hit send, only to see the prompt: [Your message has been rejected.]

Scrolling up, she noticed the same message had appeared multiple times already.

Their afternoon had ended on a sour note, and Sheng Qiuyu’s way of expressing displeasure was straightforward.

She had blocked Ying Xu.

But this blocking was entirely one-sided. Perhaps out of habit, Sheng Qiuyu continued to send videos, sharing every little detail as usual, only to block Ying Xu immediately afterward.

Ying Xu didn’t understand the appeal, but since Sheng Qiuyu seemed to enjoy it, she was willing to play along.

After all, beyond this, Ying Xu couldn’t give Sheng Qiuyu any more of the guilt she desired.

The day Ying Xu wrapped filming was an uncharacteristically gloomy, rainy day.

A light drizzle fell outside as she sat at the familiar desk, now slightly cracked from wear over time. Her fingers hovered over the enter key as the camera captured the screen, a lengthy email addressed to Lin Yu’s adult daughter. The girl had presented as an Omega and, under her father’s arrangements, had fallen into a “sweet” romance, her every move controlled like a beautiful puppet.

The key depressed for a few seconds, marking Ying Xu’s final shot of the entire production.

When the director called “Cut!”, the set fell silent for a moment as everyone exchanged glances. Other actors had been met with cheers upon wrapping, but Ying Xu’s reputation was so tarnished that no one dared celebrate, what if another video leaked online and they got dragged into the backlash?

No one spoke, and Ying Xu didn’t mind. She slowly stood up and offered a genuine smile to the director behind the camera.

“Thank you all for your guidance throughout this journey,” she said warmly, her eyes crinkling in a way that made it hard to dislike her. “If the opportunity arises, I’d love to collaborate again in the future.”

The director forced a laugh. “Haha, of course! Congrats on wrapping”

The others chimed in nervously, “Happy wrap, Dr. Liang!”

Calling her by her character name can’t possibly get us cyberbullied, right? As for future collaborations that was absolutely unnecessary!

As the props were packed away, Ying Xu finally let out a long exhale while removing her makeup.

The show had ended, but it was only the beginning. To keep the identity of “Ying Xu” active in the industry, every subsequent step would still require help from others perhaps from the Xu family, or perhaps from Gu Qingzhu.

As she pondered her plans, Luo Zhu sent her a message, reminding her that filming would start the next day and forwarding the ticket booking interface.

Ying Xu replied with an “okay,” but Luo Zhu hesitated for a moment before asking: 【Should we reach out to Ms. Sheng again?】

The cold war between Ying Xu and Sheng Qiuyu was well-known throughout the crew. It wasn’t surprising, their relationship had once been unusually close. Except when she was around Ying Xu, Sheng Qiuyu was generally impatient, prone to outbursts when provoked, unrestrained in her temper.

But now, with their relationship strained, even when they were on the same set, Sheng Qiuyu hadn’t spoken a single word to Ying Xu.

That had also been their last scene together, hastily and carelessly concluded, like an unofficial farewell.

【Forget it.】

After a pause, Ying Xu typed again: 【Things are fine as they are.】

But before she could hit send, a few knocks suddenly sounded at the door.

Not too loud, not too soft the rhythmic “thud, thud” paused and resumed, as if conveying some unique signal.

Outside stood Cheng Jun, whom Ying Xu hadn’t seen in a long time.

The alpha’s lips were still painted in that bold red, like her signature color a bright, burning flame. Her slender eyeliner flicked upward, her pupils shimmering with the familiar amusement Ying Xu knew well.

“Ying Xu,” Cheng Jun called her.

Ying Xu thought their last meeting had been useful, at least in ensuring Cheng Jun no longer called her the meaningless “Little Xu.”

“Long time no see,” she nodded slightly. This time, the words came from Ying Xu.

Cheng Jun looked momentarily surprised before smiling in response. With natural ease, she produced a small bouquet of roses from behind her just four or five stems.

“Happy wrap-up,” she waved the flowers. “I bet I’m the first to say that to you today.”

Ying Xu didn’t take them. “Many people already have.”

Cheng Jun smoothly corrected herself: “As a friend.”

That, indeed, was a first.

Ying Xu accepted the flowers and asked, “So you already know?”

“Which part?” Cheng Jun grinned. “That you and Gu Qingzhu have been getting along lately? Or that my sister is about to get engaged to Sheng Qiuyu?”

One sentence split them into two camps.

The reason for Sheng Qiuyu’s distance from Ying Xu now seemed traceable, if she was really entering an arranged marriage, naturally she’d have to avoid other alphas.

A perfectly reasonable explanation. Given Ying Xu’s temperament, she would undoubtedly choose to understand.

Ying Xu lowered her eyes. “Is that so? Then… congratulations to Ms. Sheng.”

Cheng Jun studied Ying Xu’s face, as if trying to discern the truth. After a long moment, she let out a soft scoff. “Relax, they’re not engaged. Sheng Qiuyu wouldn’t stoop to her level.”

Her tone was mocking, tinged with a hint of regret mocking Cheng Yuedu’s delusional hopes, yet regretting that Sheng Qiuyu hadn’t actually distanced herself from Ying Xu for this reason.

Ying Xu said, “Is that so?”

She seemed momentarily dazed, but no trace of joy surfaced.

Cheng Jun lazily thought that Sheng Qiuyu had only gotten this far. After all this time, she still hadn’t won Ying Xu’s affection.

Recalling the omega’s unpleasant expression, she felt particularly pleased, her tone lightening. “About that movie I mentioned last time… are you interested?”

Cheng Jun had joined the cast of a serious drama. Without violating any confidentiality agreements, she shared everything she could with Ying Xu and candidly explained: this production was funded by the Xu family.

To put it simply: Wei Xuyan could influence the casting decisions.

During her time on set, Ying Xu had been fully immersed in filming, and her communication with Wei Xuyan naturally dwindled. Recently, she had been hesitating over how to “reconnect” again.

Cheng Jun or rather, Wei Xuyan had proactively provided Ying Xu with a bridge for renewed communication.

This time, Ying Xu had no reason to refuse and gave Cheng Jun Luo Zhu’s contact details.

With Wei Xuyan’s help, Cheng Jun easily discovered that Ying Xu’s recent hardships were entirely due to Gu Qingzhu.

As for why the alpha had a new agent and renegotiated her contract that, too, bore Gu Qingzhu’s fingerprints.

Their relationship… when had it become so close?

The surprise that flickered across the woman’s face was keenly caught by Ying Xu.

At first, Ying Xu thought there was some issue with Luo Zhu, but then Cheng Jun finally spoke, carefully choosing her words: “You and Gu Qingzhu…”

“Are you sure?” Cheng Jun paused, then continued, “She’s not a good choice. Mentor, lover, or wife.”

Of course, Cheng Jun added silently, Gu Qingzhu would most likely never marry Ying Xu.

Such a proud omega might soften momentarily, but she would never easily share everything with Ying Xu.

“So, why not give me a try?” Cheng Jun’s eyes sparkled with amusement, half-joking, half-serious. “If you’re willing, we could register our marriage tomorrow.”