Everyone is Crazy - Chapter 3

Liu Shuyun disliked it when Tan Muxi made noise during their intimate moments, let alone spoke such words. But Tan Muxi had just deliberately provoked her, and now it was payback. In the next second, a corner of the bathrobe was shoved into Tan Muxi’s mouth. Just as she was about to spit it out, Liu Shuyun gripped her cheeks, forcing her to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked. Liu Shuyun’s held no emotion, eerily calm. She even gently smoothed Tan Muxi’s hair, which had been tugged askew by the bathrobe. After a few seconds of this silent confrontation, Tan Muxi’s tense nerves relaxed, and she yielded to Liu Shuyun’s control.

As if she were already used to it.

And she was quite accustomed to it.

Liu Shuyun had always been self-willed and domineering. Tan Muxi remembered one time when she had cut her hair short for a new role. Upon returning home, Liu Shuyun was extremely displeased and left the apartment that very night. The next day, she came back with a wig.

From then on, whenever she was within Liu Shuyun’s sight, Tan Muxi had to wear the wig. Her scalp was sensitive, making it torturous, but Liu Shuyun would simply apply medicine to her scalp while putting the wig on her.

It was outrageous to an extreme degree.

After that, Tan Muxi never cut her hair short again.

Tan Muxi reached up to adjust her hair, but her wrist was intercepted mid-air. Liu Shuyun’s palm was warm, her slender yet strong fingers firmly restraining Tan Muxi’s hand. “Don’t move,” Liu Shuyun said.

Tan Muxi spat out the bathrobe and lied, “My head itches.”

Only then did Liu Shuyun release her hand.

Tan Muxi pretended to scratch her head, then rose from Liu Shuyun’s lap, straightening her bathrobe. Just as Liu Shuyun tried to pull her back, Tan Muxi said, “I’m hungry.”

Liu Shuyun’s fingers curled and rested at her side. “What do you want to eat?” she asked.

“Steak,” Tan Muxi ordered. “And a fried egg.”

“That’s too greasy for dinner,” Liu Shuyun said. “I’ll have Sister Wu bring over two servings of nourishing porridge.”

Then why did you even ask?

Tan Muxi stayed silent.

Liu Shuyun glanced at her.

Three types of nourishing porridge arrived, along with eight side dishes; certainly not greasy. But Tan Muxi only took a few bites. She was on a diet, and her request for steak and fried egg had been intentional. She knew Liu Shuyun wouldn’t agree.

This person detested oily food at night.

By asking for steak, she had deliberately provoked Liu Shuyun’s refusal, knowing that afterward, Liu Shuyun would feel a brief sense of guilt. That guilt could be leveraged to get many things, such as: “I want to stay at the film set tomorrow.”

Liu Shuyun asked, “What for?”

“Night shoot,” Tan Muxi said. “A big one. It’s too tiring to commute.”

Liu Shuyun said, “Then I’ll—”

“Just for three days,” Tan Muxi cut in. “The crew is registering the list for hotel stays. I haven’t confirmed yet, thinking I’d discuss it with you first. Of course, if you’d rather I endure the fatigue, I will.”

She lowered her eyes, adopting a soft, submissive posture.

Liu Shuyun asked, “Only three days?”

Tan Muxi raised an eyebrow subtly. “Yes, three days.”

“Shall I have Sister Wu go with you to prepare your meals?” Liu Shuyun suggested.

Tan Muxi had a sensitive stomach. All her meals at home were prepared by Sister Wu, and even lunch was delivered to the set by Liu Shuyun’s arrangement. Eating anything else easily triggered her stomach issues. She relied on Sister Wu, but still asked, “If Sister Wu comes with me, what will you do for meals?”

She added, “Let’s stick to the usual, have it delivered.”

Liu Shuyun watched her quietly. “Very well,” she said.

Tan Muxi achieved her goal and returned to her room to change into a nightgown. A light blue silk, oversized, long-sleeved one. It draped loosely over her body, making her appear even more slender and fragile, like willow catkins that might drift away with a gust of wind. In reality, every inch of her skin was firm and strong; she had even developed abdominal muscles for her last film. But Liu Shuyun preferred her delicate, innocent look.

It was all just an act.

Merely playing a role.

For Tan Muxi, it came naturally. As she raised her hand, she sensed a burning gaze from behind. Leaning sideways against a sofa cushion, she stretched out her arm, the red string on her wrist dangling in the air, a striking contrast against her fair skin. Tan Muxi asked Liu Shuyun, “Are you taking a bath tonight?”

Liu Shuyun snapped out of her thoughts, rising from the dining table. “Not tonight.”

Tan Muxi replied, “Oh, I just had a very relaxing soak and thought you might enjoy one too. I’ll get your clothes then.”

Liu Shuyun sat on the sofa without a word.

Tan Muxi went back to the dressing room. Most of the nightwear at home had been personally chosen by Liu Shuyun, tailored to her preferences and taste. Tan Muxi’s nightgowns were mostly oversized, long-sleeved styles. Occasionally, when in the mood, Liu Shuyun would bring home some lingerie, only for it to be discarded by the next day. Tan Muxi knew she enjoyed her playing the part of a pure, naive lily, untouched by the world.

But Tan Muxi also relished the wild, suppressed frustration in Liu Shuyun’s expression when she couldn’t fully control her.

Tan Muxi picked up a nightgown, draped it over her wrist, and without taking any undergarments, returned to the living room and handed it to Liu Shuyun. Just as Liu Shuyun was about to head into the bathroom, her phone rang. Tan Muxi walked over to the coffee table, picked up the phone, and caught a glimpse of the screen flashing with the name “Secretary.”

Liu Shuyun answered, and after a moment, asked, “Have you managed to contact her?”

The phone’s soundproofing was excellent; Tan Muxi couldn’t hear a thing. She didn’t mind, but then she heard Liu Shuyun say, “What are Jin Shangxing’s demands?”

Tan Muxi’s gaze, which had been fixed on her nails, paused. She looked up at Liu Shuyun, who said, “Let’s schedule a meeting at the company tomorrow to discuss the details.”

With that, she put down her phone and headed toward the bathroom. Tan Muxi asked, “Is Director Jin back?”

Liu Shuyun replied, “Yes.”

Tan Muxi thought of the newly purchased script at the company and asked, “Is she going to direct ‘Fearless’?”

Liu Shuyun said, “It’s not confirmed yet.”

She offered no further explanation, clearly unwilling to continue the topic.

Tan Muxi nodded.

As Liu Shuyun entered the bathroom and the sound of running water filled the air, Tan Muxi sat on the sofa, picked up her phone, and searched for information about Jin Shangxing. The latest reports were from six months ago, when Jin Shangxing attended a charity gala and was questioned about her film projects, sparking a minor buzz online. After that, there had been no news. Tan Muxi knew she had been recuperating in her hometown.

A few years ago, Jin Shangxing was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent active treatment. The surgery was successful, and she had been living quietly in her hometown since, with little news about her. Her appearance at the charity event six months ago was likely a step toward her comeback, though no one expected it would take over half a year to materialize.

Tan Muxi had assumed there would be no further updates about Jin Shangxing this year.

But upon reflection, “Fearless” had been purchased six months ago. Perhaps that was already part of the groundwork for Jin Shangxing’s return.

After all, with a script like that, Liu Shuyun wouldn’t trust any other director besides Jin Shangxing.

Tan Muxi had read the script. Fearless was an ensemble drama centered on women. Stories of those living in remote mountain villages during wartime, each protecting their families and nation in their own ways, unafraid of sacrifice. The film needed to be both delicately nuanced and grand in scale, which happened to be Jin Shangxing’s forte. She had risen to fame early in her career with her unique cinematography and directorial style, winning Best Director and Best Picture awards both domestically and internationally for her debut film, The Unseen Battlefield. Since then, she had directed several war documentaries, all of which were well-received without exception.

Earlier, Tan Muxi had wondered why the company had purchased the Fearless script, as it didn’t align with the company’s recent direction. But if it was because of Jin Shangxing, then it made sense.

As she scrolled through her messages, a notification from Shi Tong popped up: “Muxi, what are you up to?”

Tan Muxi shifted into a more comfortable position and replied: “Lying down. Something up?”

Shi Tong: “Shan Yingfeng said you left at 4:30. Not feeling well?”

Tan Muxi: “A little.”

Shi Tong: “What’s wrong?”

Tan Muxi: “My heart’s not feeling great.”

Shi Tong: …

She knew exactly why Tan Muxi was upset. Tan Muxi despised people who were unpunctual. Throughout her career, she had been targeted with countless smear campaigns, but no one had ever accused her of being unprofessional. Even though she had never marketed herself as a dedicated professional.

“With a face like this, do I really need to build any other persona?” That was the first thing Tan Muxi had said to her after signing with Times Media.

And indeed, she didn’t need to.

Her looks alone overshadowed her acting skills. Over the years, haters had consistently criticized her acting, but no one had ever called her ugly.

Snapping back to reality, Shi Tong replied: “Remember that script you asked me about earlier this year?”

Tan Muxi sent: “Fearless?”

Shi Tong: “So you really have been thinking about it.”

She didn’t need to spell it out. If Tan Muxi could guess immediately, it was clear she had it on her mind. But Shi Tong also understood why. The company had been planning Tan Muxi’s career transition over the past two years, and Tan Muxi herself enjoyed challenging roles and diverse scripts. Among all the scripts the company had acquired recently, Fearless was the only one Tan Muxi had inquired about four times. Something she rarely did before.

Shi Tong had read the script and loved the story. Every character was meaningful and shone brilliantly in their own way. So, she had coordinated with the production team, asking them to contact her as soon as there was any news.

The production team had just reached out to her.

So, she contacted Tan Muxi.

Tan Muxi replied: “Any updates?”

Shi Tong: “I heard they’ve found a suitable director.”

So soon? She had thought Liu Shuyun and Jin Shangxing were still in discussions.

Then why had Liu Shuyun said it wasn’t finalized yet?

Tan Muxi’s phoenix eyes lifted slightly as she glanced toward the bathroom. She replied to Shi Tong: “Okay, got it.”

Shi Tong: “Why so calm now? Well, President Liu bought this script specifically to prepare for your transition. Focus on studying the script for now. I’ll contact you if there’s more news.”

When Liu Shuyun stepped out of the bathroom, Tan Muxi was looking down at her phone. Liu Shuyun walked over and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Tan Muxi closed her phone, looked up, and met Liu Shuyun’s gaze. “Nothing. Shi Tong sent me next month’s schedule.”

Liu Shuyun brushed the damp strands of hair off her shoulders, the ends still slightly wet while the roots had already fluffed up. Dressed in a thin nightgown, her graceful figure was fully visible; her waist slender, her skin fair. Though not as pale as Tan Muxi’s cool-toned complexion, her fairness was striking. Without makeup, her presence felt less imposing. Tan Muxi’s gaze drifted from her face down to her collarbone.

Her eyes held restraint, subtle and reserved.

Liu Shuyun asked, “Will this drama wrap up by the end of the month?”

Tan Muxi replied, “Mm, by the end of the month.”

“Then how about going out next month? Didn’t you say you wanted to travel during the New Year?” Liu Shuyun inquired. Tan Muxi turned over and knelt on the sofa, facing her directly, a spark of delight in her expression. “You have time?”

Liu Shuyun met her gaze, her tone indifferent. “I can spare a few days mid-month.”

Mid-month.

That was likely around the time of the Fearless audition.

Tan Muxi smiled. “Sure.”

She stretched her arms out, wrapping them around Liu Shuyun’s neck and pulling her closer. Just as their noses were about to touch, Tan Muxi lowered her gaze, her lashes trembling delicately. Her eyes fixed intently on Liu Shuyun’s thin lips, the air between them thick with heated tension. Liu Shuyun’s eyes swept over her, her patience wearing thin as she leaned in. But Tan Muxi pulled back. Quick to react, Liu Shuyun wrapped an arm around Tan Muxi’s waist, yanking her firmly against herself.

Their lips met instantly, soft and pliant, marked by the pressure of Liu Shuyun’s bite. Tan Muxi placed a hand on Liu Shuyun’s shoulder, as if to push her away*, but Liu Shuyun only tightened her embrace across the sofa.

Tan Muxi closed her eyes, her body seeming to resist, yet her tongue entwined with Liu Shuyun’s in a provocative dance.