After Redeeming the Female Lead, I Faked My Death and Escaped - Chapter 5

In Ying Xu’s eyes, there was nothing easier in this world than “keeping one’s mouth shut.”

Just as Gu Qingzhu didn’t want to have any contact with her, Ying Xu equally had no desire to be publicly tied to Gu Qingzhu in the eyes of others.

Without absolute certainty, binding oneself to a ticking time bomb meant that a single misstep could lead to utter destruction.

Ying Xu didn’t know whether Gu Qingzhu feared death, but she herself valued her life.

The next day, the group set off in a private car to the set of Redemption.

The reason it was called a “group” was that Gu Qingzhu had contacted someone, early in the morning, a professional team had gathered at the PR office for a script discussion, brainstorming how to adjust Gu Qingzhu’s scenes to make her character flawless.

In short the production could be mediocre, but Gu Qingzhu could not.

The filming location for Redemption was in Star City’s largest film and television base, where over a hundred crews of varying sizes were at work. The bustling crowds made the place feel like a small city.

As they stepped out of the car, Ying Xu’s gaze unconsciously drifted to the surrounding buildings. Amidst the towering steel forest, one building stood out with its vibrant colors, its neon decorations flashing even in broad daylight, like burning fireworks.

Gu Qingzhu said calmly, “Stay close to me. Don’t do anything unnecessary.”

A night had passed, and her emotions seemed to have settled somewhat. Ying Xu couldn’t tell what she was thinking but nodded obediently, following closely behind her.

By the time they arrived on set, the director of Redemption had been waiting for a while.

After hearing the team’s demands, the director broke out in a cold sweat.

This level of control was overstepping boundaries. Any other actor would have long been kicked off the set and dragged on social media, but Gu Qingzhu was different.

She was a supporting character, but within the entire crew, she had the most seniority, the deepest background, and had just won an award the night before, riding the peak of her fame.

Watching as the director stammered and agreed to each demand, Ying Xu was amazed. She asked the system: [Being this domineering has no one ever called her out?]

System: [Anyone who posts black material about Gu Qingzhu ends up deleting it voluntarily.]

Ying Xu guessed: [Does she pay them off?]

System: [The Gu family has a professional legal team.]

Ying Xu understood Star City’s unbeatable litigators.

Gu Qingzhu’s expression remained indifferent, neither confirming nor denying.

She was still wearing a silk scarf today, perfectly concealing the marks on her neck. Clad in an overcoat, she seemed even more unapproachable than the night before, exuding an air of detachment.

The woman appeared entirely unaffected by the ongoing disputes, only occasionally glancing at Ying Xu.

But there was no particular emotion in that gaze, just like how ordinary people, when seeing snowfall, instinctively search for the flakes drifting near them.

Ying Xu offered Gu Qingzhu an ingratiating smile, to which the latter averted her eyes and called out, “Screenwriter Li.”

The woman leading the discussion promptly wrapped up the topic and shifted aside, allowing the director to see Ying Xu. “As for this one Miss Ying, we’d also like the crew to arrange a role for her.”

“The amount of screen time doesn’t matter,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s just that someone in the family wants her to experience acting.”

“Someone in the family.”

The director caught the phrase, assuming the Alpha was some relative of Gu Qingzhu’s, and sighed in relief. “Of course, of course.”

It was common for productions to have people forced onto them. What directors feared most was someone demanding a major new role that disrupted the plot. In comparison, adding an extra was much simpler it even saved on hiring background actors.

“Right,” the director thought to himself, having made up his mind. After confirming there were no other issues, he smiled and said, “Qingzhu’s first scene is in the afternoon. Since there’s still time, why not go take the costume photos first?”

Gu Qingzhu gave a slight nod. Before leaving, she turned to Ying Xu and said, “Wait for me here.”

Ying Xu’s expression remained unchanged, her tone as gentle as ever. “Alright.”

A crowd of people bustled around, escorting Gu Qingzhu away, while Ying Xu received scripts for a few minor roles from the screenwriter.

The so-called scripts were just a few thin sheets of paper. The first page read: “XX let out a scream and rushed toward XX. With the sound of a gunshot, she collapsed in a pool of blood: ‘I’ (shocked, terrified the more exaggerated, the better).”

The other pages were similar, all featuring characters who appeared only a few times mere extras.

Perhaps still smarting from earlier criticisms, the screenwriter’s tone was less than friendly. “Take a look first. Let me know which role you want to play.”

Ying Xu, however, seemed oblivious to the attitude and thanked her sincerely. After a few words, the screenwriter’s demeanor softened. As she was about to leave, she hesitated before saying to Ying Xu, “There’s a supporting role in the drama named Liang Ruoyan, and we haven’t found an actress for it yet. If you’re interested, you could mention it to Gu Qingzhu.”

Ying Xu hadn’t expected such a tip. She raised an eyebrow slightly and bid the screenwriter farewell with genuine gratitude.

After the screenwriter left, Ying Xu glanced around but didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she pulled up a chair and began studying the scripts earnestly.

This sudden compliance left the system baffled. [Host, why aren’t you leaving?]

It hadn’t forgotten Ying Xu’s earlier curiosity.

Without looking up, Ying Xu replied, [The crew is filming across four locations. Gu Qingzhu’s character is mostly in the scene. I have plenty of time to familiarize myself.]

[Plenty of time? But you can only play one role, right?]

[One extra is the same as three. Gu Qingzhu won’t refuse me.]

Through the scripts of several minor roles, Ying Xu pieced together roughly half the plot of Redemption.

The story began in a very clichéd manner.

The female lead, Lin Yu, was a Beta from a prestigious family. Her parents, high-ranking political figures, paid her little attention. Starved for affection, she unexpectedly met one of her father’s subordinates on her coming-of-age day. Though an Alpha, the man was refined and gentlemanly, a stark contrast to the unruly Alphas Lin Yu had encountered before.

As they grew closer, Lin Yu learned that the man had been orphaned at a young age and came from abject poverty. He was also seriously ill. Yet despite this, he remained passionate about life and relentlessly ambitious.

Before long, Lin Yu found herself uncontrollably in love with him. For his sake, she was willing to risk being disowned by her family to marry him. Seeing her devotion, the man became even more attentive.

Eventually, the Lin family relented, and the two were wed.

But after bearing his child, on a rainy day, Lin Yu suddenly received a letter.

Do you really know the man lying beside you?

The letter was filled with the man’s past. Only then did Lin Yu realize that his claim of “both parents deceased” was a lie. He was born in the lower city, with parents who were murderers with blood on their hands. Growing up in such an environment, he had mastered the art of deception early on. With his handsome looks and Alpha status, he had charmed many privileged female Omegas into pitying him since his university days.

Whenever his “two-timing” was exposed, he would first apologize, beg, and weep. Most people would forgive him under the weight of his near-perfect performance. But if anyone remained stubborn, he would strike first, accusations of theft, robbery, assault… even murder.

Reading through each incident, Lin Yu felt a chill run down her spine.

She heard her daughter’s cries, heard footsteps approaching from outside the door. The man stood there with his most flawless smile and said, “I’m home.”

This had once been the scene Lin Yu longed for the most, but now it became the final frame of every nightmare that haunted her in the dead of night.

Within just a year, the man had climbed the ranks through Lin Yu’s father’s influence. He became a regular at high-profile political gatherings, constantly under the spotlight. No one paid attention to Lin Yu’s accusations against him.

Lin Yu grew increasingly paranoid, suspecting the household staff, her friends, even her newborn daughter.

She held the child, but the baby wailed in distress. It wasn’t until a servant rushed over that they realized Lin Yu was gripping the infant’s arm so tightly that the delicate skin had turned blue and purple, a sight that sent shivers down their spines.

Then, on a rainy night, she heard the man say once more, “I’m home.”

Lin Yu lay in bed, clutching a dagger.

The story took a drastic turn, what had once been a dreamlike “love” was suddenly drenched in blood, turning horrifyingly gruesome.

Ying Xu’s first thought was that this story aligned with the original plot. But after skimming through the entire script, she couldn’t find a single character that matched her memories.

More importantly, film titles often simplified a story.

And in the first half of this tale, who was atoning?

After a moment’s thought, Ying Xu searched online for the production company behind Atonement, it was Qinghong Entertainment, Gu Qingzhu’s company. There was even a group photo from Qinghong’s annual meeting online. Gu Qingzhu wasn’t in it, but a middle-aged man with a face full of wrinkles stood in the front row, smiling broadly.

The news identified him as Sheng Changming, one of Qinghong’s major shareholders.

Whether or not this story was connected to the original plot, it had piqued Ying Xu’s curiosity.

But with so few clues, Ying Xu decided to wait until she returned before bringing up the character “Liang Ruoyan” to Gu Qingzhu.

She turned off her phone and flipped through the script again, this time solely to memorize her lines.

In Ying Xu’s eyes, playing a supporting role was no different from being an extra, both were just ways to increase exposure.

But this time, she didn’t get far before being interrupted.

“Where is everyone?”

A woman’s voice suddenly rang out. Ying Xu looked up to see a woman with almond-shaped eyes and thin lips, wrapped in a heavy wool coat like a little lamb. Her refined demeanor made her appear especially pure against the snow.

An Omega.

As Ying Xu observed her, the system didn’t provide any introduction. She was puzzled after all, the system had even mentioned the lowly crew members earlier.

Since the other party didn’t address her first, Ying Xu remained cautiously silent.

The Omega frowned. After enduring Gu Qingzhu’s unpredictable mood swings all night, Ying Xu guessed that she was now in a state where everyone irritated her, desperately needing an outlet for her frustration.

There were no living souls around except for Ying Xu.

Ying Xu lowered her eyes, preparing to wait for the other person to lash out at her, but the woman didn’t say another word. Instead, she walked over to her side.

Ying Xu: ?

The woman glanced at her, her expression initially impatient, but it turned hesitant after she got a clear look at Ying Xu’s face.

“What, are you the only one allowed to read the script? Others can’t?”

The Omega’s ink-black hair cascaded naturally, swaying with her movements and revealing a butterfly hair clip pinned near the roots.

It was only when she got closer that Ying Xu noticed the exquisitely designed earring dangling from the woman’s earlobe.

While watching the news, the scrolling advertisement at the bottom had been promoting this latest model of earphones, luxuriously crafted and even more exorbitantly priced.

“No,” Ying Xu shook her head and went back to her own business.

Silence settled in, occasionally broken by a gust of wind that carried a biting chill.

The Alpha’s lack of response annoyed Sheng Qiuyu.

Had she said something wrong? But when she joked like this with others, no one ever seemed to mind.

Sheng Qiuyu found it strange but couldn’t pinpoint the issue. She stole a sidelong glance at the woman.

That face was breathtakingly beautiful. Sheng Qiuyu’s gaze lingered until a gentle look suddenly met hers, and she realized,

She’d been staring too long and had been caught.

Pursing her lips, Sheng Qiuyu was about to pretend nothing had happened when the owner of that face finally answered her earlier question.

“I’m not sure where the others went, but if you’d like to wait for them, you can sit here with me.”

At this, the Alpha paused and offered a kind smile, warm as a spring breeze.

“Are you here to audition too?”

Sheng Qiuyu stared at the tiny mole under her right eye and nodded instinctively.