After Redeeming the Female Lead, I Faked My Death and Escaped - Chapter 44

Before disembarking, Ying Xu received several screenshots of communication records sent by Luo Zhu.

In the images, the Beta’s tone was uncharacteristically firm, stating that if similar incidents occurred again on set, they would immediately terminate the collaboration.

The staff naturally responded with a compliant “Understood.”

Ying Xu didn’t reply right away, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.

Perhaps it was from being submerged in water too many times, but her entire body felt unusually numb, as if she were still recovering from a high fever.

Yet when she touched her forehead, it wasn’t as scorching as she expected.

Looking in the mirror, aside from her complexion being slightly more flushed than usual, there was no noticeable difference.

It wasn’t until Luo Zhu messaged: [If you’re unwilling, breaking the contract is fine.] that Ying Xu finally raised her hand and typed a reply: [Why the sudden firm stance?]

When she had initially taken on this role, Luo Zhu had been unusually insistent, as though missing this project would leave an eternal regret in Ying Xu’s acting career.

By the time she arrived at the residence, Ying Xu finally had a moment to read Luo Zhu’s response.

[Compared to one project, I’d rather my artist stay healthy.]

Ying Xu memorized the phrasing, deciding to use it later on Gu Qingzhu.

She pressed the doorbell. It was already early March, the frost and snow long melted, golden sunlight filtering through the trees, painting a serene and warm scene.

The closer she got to this place, the more her headache seemed to ease, as if she had finally found a sense of security.

She recalled the last time she stood here, it had been to face the “surprise” Gu Qingzhu had prepared for her.

But this time would be different.

Hearing footsteps, Ying Xu assumed it was Gu Qingzhu and smiled slightly.

The next second, she met the slightly panicked gaze of a Beta.

The setting sun cast molten gold across the room, bathing everything in a warm, nostalgic glow, like an old film reel.

“How are you feeling today?”

Assistant Lu spoke, her tone cautious.

Seated on one side of the bench, Gu Qingzhu glanced at her and, after a few seconds, replied, “Fine.”

Assistant Lu: Fine probably meant things were okay?

She pressed on, “How’s your appetite? Sleeping well? Are you happy?”

Gu Qingzhu finally offered a few more words: “Fixed meals. Average. Alright. These are all recorded. No need to force conversation.”

Perhaps it was due to recently taking her medication, but the woman seemed unusually calm.

The structured routine of recent days had visibly improved her health, her complexion was no longer as pale. Though she still appeared frail, it was a marked improvement from before.

Assistant Lu thought back to the doctor’s solemn warning before she saw Gu Qingzhu: “The patient still exhibits strong self-destructive tendencies.” For a moment, she even wondered if it was a misdiagnosis.

That was until she noticed Gu Qingzhu turning her gaze toward another patient chatting with a nurse nearby.

The Omega lived next to Gu Qingzhu, and Assistant Lu had seen her a few times during visits.

But unlike Gu Qingzhu, who adhered to schedules and medication and showed clear improvement, this woman had self-harmed on admission and attempted suicide days later, drawing intense scrutiny from the hospital.

“What do you think she’s planning?” Gu Qingzhu asked as the Beta turned away, her eyes already lowered again.

Assistant Lu hesitated. “Did she forget something? Should I ask the nurse to fetch it?”

Gu Qingzhu said, “No.”

Leaning back against the bench, the cold seeped through her clothes, spreading across her body.

This was one of the only two sensations Gu Qingzhu had felt since being admitted.

Pain. Cold.

The medication made her whole body ache. Though the doctor said it was just an illusion, for someone who couldn’t distinguish between reality and delusion, illusions became a kind of reality.

In the first few days, she would wake up startled at night, clawing at her skin, stubbornly convinced that larvae were wriggling beneath it. When the doctor asked where the idea came from, she recalled the animal carcass she had seen that day and vomited uncontrollably.

Immediately, the doctor played the surveillance footage for her. The video clearly showed that she was alone in the ward. At first, she looked around with a face full of suspicion, then proceeded to smash everything in sight before violently dismantling the window.

“You’re unaware when you have an episode,” the doctor said. “Don’t let your emotions control you. Learn to control them instead.”

After that day, Gu Qingzhu increased her dosage.

The hallucinations stopped, leaving only numbness and an eerie calm.

The world felt hollow. She couldn’t recall the past, nor did she have the energy to think about the future. Simply staring at one thing could consume hours of her time.

Only when the medication wore off would she remember that night at the film festival—the altered schedule, the blatant insults, the threatening “gift” hurled at her, and Ying Xu.

Suddenly, everything felt meaningless.

She was the one who had done it. She was the one who accepted the award. Every bit of suffering Ying Xu endured was caused by her, directly or indirectly.

Perhaps she really should have been the one to die, just as the note had said.

Why wasn’t it her who died?

When this thought resurfaced, Gu Qingzhu froze, as if transported back to those endless rainy days of the past.

She had often hurled this question at Ying Xu, but the alpha would simply ignore it, indifferent to the malice.

Beside her, Assistant Lu exclaimed in surprise, “Is she leaving too?”

Only then did Gu Qingzhu snap back to reality, her gaze settling on the woman’s retreating figure.

On the first day of her hospitalization, she had seen that woman hide a small knife.

“It’s time to go back,” Gu Qingzhu said, standing up. For a moment, her vision went blank. She steadied herself, waiting several seconds before the palpitations subsided.

The beta was too preoccupied with the patient to notice her momentary lapse. Hesitantly, she asked, “Is it really okay to leave her alone here?”

Gu Qingzhu didn’t answer immediately.

Assistant Lu looked at her, and in that shared gaze, Gu Qingzhu saw panic and confusion hidden in the other’s eyes.

Suddenly, Gu Qingzhu thought of an evening many years ago.

It must have been just as sunny. She had asked the doctor, “If people don’t have the right to choose whether they’re born, why can’t they at least freely choose to die?”

The words were etched in her memory, though she couldn’t remember where they came from. But the doctor had taken them seriously, launching into a solemn lecture.

Leaving the consultation room, she complained to Xu Ying, who was waiting outside, “She talks so much.”

The beta simply looked at her gently, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, letting Gu Qingzhu take her hand.

This memory was just an insignificant fragment of the past.

The first time she recalled it, Gu Qingzhu even felt a sense of unfamiliarity, unsure if it had really happened.

In the silence, she finally said, “Maybe.”

The beta immediately went to find a nurse. Gu Qingzhu didn’t watch her leave, instead picking up the device she had dropped.

The password wasn’t complicated it was Xu Ying’s birthday.

It had been so long since she last touched it that her fingers felt clumsy. But as she entered the numbers, she wasn’t thinking of Xu Ying, but of Ying Xu, whose birthday was so close to hers.

As soon as the screen unlocked, it displayed the chat interface with Ying Xu.

The last message was sent by ‘Gu Qingzhu’: 【Okay】

Gu Qingzhu had known about the incident since the day Assistant Lu took the device. But she never inquired, allowing the other party to “deceive” her.

Her fingertips slid across the screen, and soon, Ying Xu’s day unfolded before her eyes.

The alpha seemed to be working nonstop. At 3 AM, she would send a photo of the night view with a “goodnight.” By 6 AM, she’d share a picture of the sunrise. A few hours later, it was lunchtime cheap, unappetizing food.

Gu Qingzhu’s brows unconsciously furrowed. She was all too familiar with an actor’s daily routine and quickly realized this wasn’t normal.

Assistant Lu should have known too so why hadn’t she mentioned it?

In the silence, the nurse had already located the omega. Just as Gu Qingzhu had guessed, she was in the midst of slitting her wrists.

Soon, the emergency room light flickered on. All patients were ordered to halt activities and return to their rooms.

Assistant Lu was still shaken: “If we’d been any later, she might have bled out”

It was the first time she’d seen so much blood in real life, spreading endlessly across the ground, soaking the grass, staining it crimson with a metallic stench.

The beta instinctively wanted to voice her shock but froze in the next second.

She suddenly remembered the last time Gu Qingzhu was hospitalized… it was also due to a slit wrist.

A deathly silence seemed to seep from the emergency room into the ward.

Finally, Gu Qingzhu spoke: “Why are you still here? It’s past time.”

The woman’s turbulent emotions stalled for a moment: “The doctor didn’t rush me, so I just… Qingzhu, you need to focus on getting better. Only when you’re healthy can you live well.”

“And,” she added softly, “don’t end up like that person.”

Gu Qingzhu didn’t respond, something Assistant Lu had expected. Outside of special circumstances, Qingzhu rarely spoke much.

As she turned to leave, the omega finally spoke: “You forgot something.”

Assistant Lu was puzzled at first, but when she turned and saw the device left on the table, a chill ran down her spine,

She had deliberately hidden the whole matter to avoid affecting Gu Qingzhu’s treatment.

Just as she was berating herself for the oversight, Gu Qingzhu showed no anger at the deception. Instead, she asked a question Assistant Lu never saw coming: “Do you have Ying Xu’s schedule?”

Startled, Assistant Lu thought of Ying Xu’s daily messages and realized something: “No, but I can request one ”

Gu Qingzhu pressed her fingers to her temples, silent for a few seconds before suddenly asking, “Who are the investors for The Fall?”

This was something Gu Qingzhu had asked her to investigate before. The initial findings showed the Xu family held the majority stake, with the rest being typical corporate investors.

But when she checked again, Assistant Lu was stunned, just days before the film festival, the investors had been replaced by a shell company under Song Fei’s name.

Gu Qingzhu wasn’t surprised by the name.

After a moment’s thought, she said, “Have Gu Qing arrange an investment. The condition is to purge all of Song Fei’s people from the production team. Intercept all her business deals, give the ones Ying Xu can sign to her, and the rest to promising artists under Feiyun.”

Assistant Lu listened carefully, surprised by Gu Qingzhu’s change in approach. In the past, faced with such schemes, she would’ve likely scrapped the entire project. Now, having the Gu family invest was simply to ensure Ying Xu’s efforts wouldn’t go to waste.

She couldn’t help but murmur softly, “Qingzhu.”

“If possible, you should… still reach out to her.”

Gu Qingzhu suddenly fell silent.

Before her eyes were the usual texts and images.

But in the end, what caught her gaze was still that letter.

Finally, she spoke, word by word: “Do you think there’s any difference between you two?”

Just beyond the wall, footsteps halted.

Assistant Lu was clearly taken aback by the question, unsure how to respond. The next second, she saw Gu Qingzhu’s lips part: “I won’t contact you, and I certainly won’t reach out to her.”

“If there’s nothing else, you can leave now.”

“I’m tired.”

This dismissal made Assistant Lu lower her head, asking no further questions.

But before leaving, she still placed the freshly bought roses in the makeshift vase made from a paper box.

The white roses seemed to still carry dewdrops, vibrant and full of life. Almost the moment they came into contact with the bouquet, a flush of allergic redness appeared on Gu Qingzhu’s arm.

The hospital room door opened with a sigh.

The beta assistant walked out dejectedly, but upon seeing the woman standing outside, all her emotions abruptly vanished.

The alpha’s eyes were noticeably darker than before, her complexion unwell. A single-strap bag hung on her left side, as if she had rushed over immediately upon arrival, exhaustion evident.

Upon seeing her, the alpha merely gave a slight nod before brushing past.

Almost instantly, two words flashed through Assistant Lu’s mind: “It’s over.”

She opened her mouth, instinctively wanting to explain, but Ying Xu had already spotted the bouquet of roses by the bedside.

All three understood the meaning behind those flowers.

As the familiar scent drew near, Gu Qingzhu didn’t react at first, instinctively saying, “I told you, no”

But the words died on her lips the moment she saw that face.

Until Gu Qingzhu spoke: “Leave us.”

Assistant Lu stammered, “Miss Ying, this matter was my deliberate concealment, you”

“Leave!” Gu Qingzhu raised her voice.

After the third person departed, the atmosphere plunged to freezing point.

“Shouldn’t you be on set?” Gu Qingzhu avoided answering the question, turning her gaze away. “Go back now.”

“If I hadn’t come back, would you have kept hiding it forever?” Ying Xu’s voice was no longer calm, tinged with emotion.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ying Xu pressed again. “Why?”

The golden sun had set, leaving only the dim night, its faint light seeping into the room, casting a beautiful shadow of the roses.

Gu Qingzhu turned her face slightly, looking at the bouquet, and finally spoke: “If you already have your own answer, why ask me?”

“What obligation or necessity do I have to share my thoughts with you?”

“Ying Xu.” She finally glanced over, her tone icy. “Do you think too highly of your own importance?”

Since seeing the chat logs, the confusion and anger Gu Qingzhu felt were no less than Ying Xu’s.

Only upon seeing the alpha in person did she realize how much thinner she looked compared to the photos.

Gu Qingzhu had sent her to the set, instinctively believing that staying away from her would allow Ying Xu to live better.

But why was Ying Xu enduring in front of her and showing no change in front of others?

Could Ying Xu really not see the targeting on set? Would she not fight back?

Gu Qingzhu wanted to repeat her old tactics, to resent and command the alpha as before, to make her leave willingly.

But when she saw that face, the first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar flush at the ears, different from before.

Gu Qingzhu froze instantly, the mockery in her eyes vanishing completely as she instinctively asked, “You… are you unwell?”

“Are you unwell?” Gu Qingzhu thought of several possibilities, her fingertips beneath her sleeves turning pale in an instant. “Why is your hair wet? What did the crew make you do?”

Hearing Gu Qingzhu’s questions, Ying Xu realized she had to push even further.

Her earlier anger had been seventy percent feigned, thirty percent genuine.

When she heard the explanation from the mansion’s staff, Ying Xu had indeed felt the fury of being deceived, but only for a moment. She quickly understood that mere “deception” alone would never earn her Gu Qingzhu’s true guilt or attention.

To others, overly intense emotions were like flames, their burning presence inciting fear.

But to Gu Qingzhu, fire was a tool for warmth, an indispensable part of her emotional life.

“Ying Xu!”

Gu Qingzhu’s tone sharpened again, trying to make Ying Xu realize the gravity of the situation.

Finally, the alpha before her moved.

She didn’t leave, nor did she maintain the expected distance. Instead, she suddenly stepped forward.

When Ying Xu truly closed the gap between them, Gu Qingzhu didn’t react at all. They were far too familiar with each other, every touch between them was like water merging with water.

Only when that kiss landed on her lips, only when the scalding heat made her heart skip a beat, did Gu Qingzhu seem to jolt awake, instinctively pushing Ying Xu away.

“This is what I think.”

Ying Xu finally spoke, meeting Gu Qingzhu’s gaze as if she had nothing left to lose, saying calmly, “Qingzhu, I like you.”

After considering several plot directions, I decided to go with the crowd-pleasing forced love trope (lol).

How did Ying Xu still manage to take this step? (crawling around in circles)