After the Agreement, the Aloof Movie Queen is Chasing Me All Over the Internet - Chapter 39

“I never said that.” Du Yaozhi shielded Shen Qing’s phone with her hand, tilting her head back with an air of arrogance.

“Then what exactly did you say?” Shen Qing gave her another chance to explain.

“I said, Teacher Shen is coming to pick.” Du Yaozhi let out a light huff. She was halfway through her sentence when she suddenly realized something was wrong.

Shen Qing raised a brow slightly. “Go on.”

Du Yaozhi fell silent. Her mind worked fast, finding an excuse wasn’t usually difficult. However, after cycling through every word that sounded remotely similar to “me” (wǒ), she realized the only other option was “kiss” (wěn). Du Yaozhi went completely still.

How could such a coincidence exist? And how could Sister Jing be such a perfect megaphone for gossip?

Du Yaozhi was baffled. She hadn’t even run into the wall yet, but the wall had apparently grown legs and walked right over to pick her up. What kind of rotten luck was this?

The moonlight was hazy, and the reflection of the lingering snow on the eaves shimmered in Shen Qing’s pupils. Shen Qing remained silent, tucking her phone back into her pocket as she waited to hear Du Yaozhi’s reasoning.

Holding the hilt with one hand, Du Yaozhi lifted her slender wrist, naturally tucking the sword against her waist as she retracted the blade. She took a soft breath, deciding that instead of making the situation even more muddled, it was better to be honest with Shen Qing.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Du Yaozhi said bluntly. “I didn’t think it would reach your ears, and I certainly didn’t think you would actually come.”

“Yuanxiang was sick and refused to leave. I saw how uncomfortable she was and knew we couldn’t delay any longer, so I happened to mention your name, hoping she’d go back and rest properly. That’s all there is to it.”

“Furthermore, I wasn’t exactly ‘longing for you with sorrow and a face covered in tears.’ Don’t believe me? Take a look.”

At this, Du Yaozhi tilted her chin up, bringing her face close to Shen Qing’s with a touch of haughtiness. But her gaze drifted toward the upper diagonal, refusing to meet Shen Qing’s eyes.

Her skin was fair and translucent, her features soft and non-threatening. Up close, her thick eyelashes drooped slightly, and her red lips were pursed, fluttering with her breath. Below those soulful eyes, her dark beauty mark looked like a tiny hook, appearing incredibly charming under such prolonged scrutiny.

Shen Qing stood her ground without changing her expression. She watched Du Yaozhi, a trace of amusement flickering in the depths of her eyes.

The tone was fierce, but the face was obedient.

Shen Qing didn’t press the matter. Instead, she asked, “When do you plan on going back?”

Du Yaozhi was crisp: “When I’m finished practicing.”

“Alright,” Shen Qing replied.

Du Yaozhi lifted her sword again, looking at Shen Qing with suspicion. This woman had absolutely no intention of leaving?

Shen Qing found a chair and sat down gracefully, neither too close nor too far from Du Yaozhi. She leisurely smoothed the hem of her coat, sat upright, and picked up tomorrow’s script to begin reading seriously.

Most of the lights on the set had been extinguished, leaving only a few lonely lamps glowing, creating blurred halos in the night. Shen Qing blinked slowly, her breath melting into the cold air, her expression focused and aloof.

What game is she playing now?

Du Yaozhi hesitated. Ultimately, she didn’t like bothering people. “Why don’t you head back first? Today was an accident. I can finish practicing and go back on my own; I don’t need anyone to pick me up.”

“Mm,” Shen Qing said. “I didn’t actually intend to ‘pick you up’ anyway.”

She respected Du Yaozhi. She had known from the start that the message wasn’t Du Yaozhi’s actual intent.

“Then what are you doing here?” Du Yaozhi grew more confused. “To cling to me?”

“To accompany you,” Shen Qing said, turning a page and correcting her choice of words.

Accompany… me?

Du Yaozhi’s heart gave a sudden thud. She felt as though the hand that had once been forced to choke Shen Qing’s neck was starting to itch again. A faint current seemed to surge from her chest to her fingertips—the fingers that had once pressed against the side of Shen Qing’s neck curled unconsciously.

That familiar, warm sensation of skin returned to her.

Du Yaozhi couldn’t find any proof, but she knew Shen Qing was about to start acting up again.

Shen Qing appeared cold, taciturn, and devoid of emotion, like a flat mirror. But whatever emotion you offered her, she reflected back to you. When Du Yaozhi was serious, Shen Qing followed suit. But the moment Du Yaozhi flirted even slightly, Shen Qing would return it twofold, until Du Yaozhi couldn’t take it anymore and had to call for a stop.

Du Yaozhi knew Shen Qing’s routine all too well. As for how she knew it… There was no need to ask. It was the wisdom of painful experience.

While Du Yaozhi was still pondering what kind of “wicked” thoughts Shen Qing was hiding, Shen Qing spoke in a cool, level voice, offering a reason: “You need an audience, don’t you?”

“What does that mean?” Du Yaozhi frowned.

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Shen Qing continued, “Performance is not a solo act; you are always with the audience. Their reactions and their energy are what make a performance come alive. Even if you practice perfectly on your own, without an audience, you are missing a crucial element of the performance.”

“So, you came here to be my audience?” Du Yaozhi’s eyes flickered with a hint of skepticism.

“Yes.” Shen Qing lowered her head and clicked her pen. “I won’t interfere with you. No need to be nervous.”

Du Yaozhi was half-convinced, but she didn’t want to argue. “Fine, suit yourself.”

An audience is just an audience. It’s not like she’s here to be my teacher.

**

Sword dancing appeared light and graceful, but it actually demanded a very high level of basic skill. Every seemingly casual hand movement and every fluid turn required thousands of repetitions. Du Yaozhi set high standards for herself, training repeatedly to strengthen her muscle memory.

Shen Qing didn’t interfere; she simply kept her company. When Du Yaozhi performed the moves she had already mastered with the fluidity of flowing water, Shen Qing would make notes on her script, only occasionally looking up.

When Du Yaozhi made a mistake while practicing a new move, Shen Qing would look away without a word, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing.

Though her sword never stopped, Du Yaozhi was nearly moved to laughter out of sheer exasperation. She shook her head helplessly. This “audience member,” Shen Qing, not only had selective hearing but selective vision as well.

If every audience member were like her, wouldn’t everyone go home with an Oscar after watching her perform?

Du Yaozhi didn’t have the energy to deal with her. But whenever she spent too long struggling with a specific movement, a certain audience member would speak up slowly.

“Hand is too low.”

“When you strike with the sword, turn your waist first, then let that movement drive your arm downward. The waist and core movement must precede the hand.”

How does Shen Qing know this? Has she studied it?

Du Yaozhi suspiciously corrected the issues Shen Qing pointed out and realized she had suddenly grasped the knack of it. It truly was about using the core for power; the movements became much more fluid.

“Are there any other problems with my movements? I’ll change them all at once.”

Shen Qing stroked the paper, her eyes still lowered. Instead, with a face like ice, she decided to test Du Yaozhi: “What is the soul of a performance?”

Du Yaozhi was slightly surprised. She assumed Shen Qing was giving her a pointer, so she raised her voice and gave the answer: “Emotion.”

Indeed, Du Yaozhi placed great importance on this. She was learning the sword dance specifically to showcase Wen Jinyue’s emotional changes and highlights.

Shen Qing nodded. “In that case, what should you call me?”

Give her an inch and she takes a mile!

The words were practically on the tip of Du Yaozhi’s tongue. She really is trying to be my teacher! She had thought Shen Qing’s conscience had finally kicked in and she wanted to help find her mistakes out of the goodness of her heart.

How ridiculous.

Du Yaozhi felt a surge of shame and annoyance, her ears warming up. But she also knew that Shen Qing’s guidance was indeed sharp and precise, this was a rare opportunity.

In her hesitation, Du Yaozhi’s fingers gripped the sword tassel tightly. Shen Qing calmly continued writing on her script, saying, “Or perhaps you could call me something else?”

“For instance, what you called me that one night when you pinned me against the wall. Do you remember?”

Girlfriend, baby, even asking if she “could” or not.

How could she! Truly shameless! That was all to get back at Xu Wanxin—”treating someone with their own medicine.” Didn’t she understand? On set, they were just normal colleagues!

“Teacher… Shen.”

Du Yaozhi was beyond annoyed. She had no choice but to compromise, gritting her teeth as she uttered the title. Every word sounded like it was squeezed through her teeth, yet her chin was tilted high as she glared coldly at the woman before her.

Du Yaozhi made a mental note of this debt. She’d wait for her chance to see how she’d turn the tables.

“Mm.”

“Stand up straight, student. I’ll teach you.”

Shen Qing closed her script, tucked the pen cap onto the edge of the paper, and stood up.

**

With Shen Qing’s guidance, Du Yaozhi mastered the moves rapidly, constantly refining them. As the night deepened, the high-intensity practice left her with aching limbs and a sore back. Her muscles began to protest after the continuous exertion; every turn with the sword pulled at the soreness in her waist.

Her body was telling her it was time to rest.

Du Yaozhi paused to catch her breath, casually sweeping her long curly hair to one side, revealing a slender neck made even whiter by the sheen of sweat. She panted as she walked toward Shen Qing, her steps lacking the swiftness of her dance but possessing a lingering, lazy elegance. Her silhouette stretched out under the lights, breathtakingly beautiful.

Shen Qing looked up. She had neatly folded a clean towel and the coat she had brought, placing them on the edge of the table. When Du Yaozhi looked over, Shen Qing tapped the tabletop twice with her knuckles.

Hmm?

Du Yaozhi hesitated. A towel was exactly what she needed, so she picked it up to wipe away the sweat. “I’ll wash it and give it back to you.”

The towel moved from her forehead to her jaw, then slid all the way down her neck, disappearing into the shadow of her collar.

“No need, I prepared it for you,” Shen Qing said.

Du Yaozhi didn’t think much of it—it was just a towel. Afterward, she put on her own coat, but she still felt a bit cold. So, she pulled her own clothes off and put on the fluffy, warm coat from the table instead.

It was indeed much warmer, and surprisingly, it fit perfectly. Was this prepared for her, too?

Shen Qing stood up on her own and walked to the water dispenser. After getting some hot water, she touched the side of the cup to gauge the temperature, then added some cold water. Once she was sure the temperature was right, she unscrewed the lid and placed the cup in the center of the table.

There was no communication throughout the entire process—not even eye contact.

Du Yaozhi grew suspicious. She picked it up and took a small sip. It was warm, the temperature just right, warming her all the way from her throat to her stomach. She ended up drinking most of it. A few stray droplets escaped the corner of her mouth, trailing down her delicate jawline; Du Yaozhi wiped them away with the back of her hand, leaving a faint shimmer of moisture.

It was very warm.

Just as Du Yaozhi set the cup down, her eyes shifted with intent. She happened to see Shen Qing unhurriedly take a small sponge cake out of her bag. She unwrapped it and set it on a napkin.

But this time, Shen Qing chose to place it in front of herself.

She’s not even pretending anymore.

Du Yaozhi silently chided her in her heart.

Just as Shen Qing was retracting her hand, she felt her wrist tremble—it was suddenly seized by someone.

Du Yaozhi caught her retracting wrist, her fingertips pressing neither too lightly nor too heavily against Shen Qing’s pulse. She smiled and asked, “Is Teacher Shen going fishing?”

She leaned forward slightly, her breath still warm from exercise, carrying a faint, fresh scent of sweat.

It was a mix of testing, a desire for control, initiative, and aggressive charm.

Shen Qing allowed the movement. She tilted her voice upward, effortlessly throwing the topic back at her: “Did you take the bait?”

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