Forced to Act out a Strange Script with a Rival - Chapter 33

“Whether for revolution or for defending the kingdom’s…”

The night was deep, and the clock’s hand silently slipped past the two a.m. mark.

“I think we need a few code words as a safety measure—”

After finishing the discussion about the script modifications for the next day’s shoot, Li Ting still sat as straight as a pine tree, her back ramrod straight, as if trying to pierce through the heavy exhaustion.

Her fingertips unconsciously tapped the desktop, making a faint, rhythmic sound that broke the temporary silence.

Si Xiaoxiao was slumped in the sofa, with sleepiness washing over her like a tide.

Hearing this, she forced open her heavy eyelids. Her lashes fluttered slowly, like butterfly wings damp with dew, and a lazy yawn escaped her lips, her voice muffled and indistinct: “What? A safety word?”

Her voice trailed off, long and drawn-out, tinged with unvanished drowsiness.

“It seems your years in the entertainment circle have indeed made you a bad influence.” Li Ting’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. She raised a long, slender finger and lightly pressed her temple, the movement elegant yet conveying a sense of weary disapproval.

This precise taunt was like a small prick, instantly rousing Si Xiaoxiao’s muddled mind.

She suddenly straightened up a bit, her sleepiness dispelled by a spirit of defiance. Her beautiful eyes instantly widened, the corners upturned, and she rolled a vibrant, unreserved eye: “What? You weren’t in the circle? Don’t put on airs like an elder.”

“I’m three years older than you,” Li Ting said flatly, her tone calm, as if stating an irrelevant fact.

“…I’m Si San-sui, you’re Li Liu-sui, we’re in the same age bracket.” Still, Si Xiaoxiao’s tongue was sharp; she’d rather insult herself to pull Li Ting down a peg.

“Fine, then, Little Si San-sui, do you have any ideas for the safety word?” Li Ting’s lips seemed to hook up in an extremely slight smile, so fast it was like an illusion.

She casually pulled a pristine white sheet of paper from the table, picked up a fountain pen, and smoothly wrote the words “System” and “Anchor Point” on the surface.

Before the ink could dry, the pen seemed to come alive, gracefully spinning between her cool, slender fingers, tracing dazzling silver arcs.

“What are you afraid of?” Si Xiaoxiao’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the spinning pen tip. She was hypnotized, her eyes moving back and forth with the nimble trajectory, showing a pure, feline curiosity and focus on the moving object.

The pen dance on Li Ting’s fingertips abruptly stopped.

Her brow furrowed slightly, and a layer of somber worry silently spread across her eyes, like a thin fog covering a clear pool.

Afraid of what?

Of course, she was afraid of repeating the past, of getting too deep into the role… She needed an anchor point to exit the character.

However, she didn’t intend to tell Si Xiaoxiao this.

“I just feel—”

Her voice deepened a few degrees, carrying a sense of foreboding solemnity: “We need to… keep a word, to confirm that the person standing opposite us is still each other.”

System spaces were weird, and anything strange could exist. If, in the next instance, they both turned into a faceless woman, how would they confirm each other’s presence?

Si Xiaoxiao tilted her head. Her fatigue and confusion seemed to be instantly dispelled by the suggestion.

A hint of cunning, lively light suddenly illuminated her clear eyes, like a shooting star cutting across the dark night, and the corner of her lips curved into a slightly smug arc: “That’s not simple?”

She drew out her tone, building suspense, but her voice quickly followed: “Just use each other’s names… how about that?”

Li Ting…

As that name was called, Li Ting emerged from the strange loop of the Warden’s emotions.

She distinctly remembered that just a second ago, she was absolutely certain she was the Warden, holding the power of life and death.

And Si Xiaoxiao, in her eyes, was no longer the rival who made her grit her teeth yet compelled her to investigate, but merely the prisoner who had betrayed her, crossed swords with her, and whom she both loved and hated.

That absolute sense of control, that cold, thrilling pleasure of looking down on all beings and manipulating people’s hearts, was so real and intense that she willingly became immersed in it, forgetting her own origin.

She even truly followed the guidance of the emotion and tried to kill Si Xiaoxiao.

She had lost her name, just like in those past days.

If described in professional terms, Li Ting’s state was on the edge of a dissociative disorder, which is depersonalization.

Li Ting was said to be a genius actress because of her excellent explosiveness and empathy, which allowed her to easily draw fellow actors, directors, and the audience into the world she constructed.

During the acting process, she could truly become someone.

Before, she became Xun Ye, and just now, Li Ting became the sadistic, perverted Warden.

When playing roles that have experienced severe trauma, even without personal experience, deep empathy and simulation can lead to symptoms similar to PTSD flashbacks, avoidance, and hyperarousal. This is known as secondary trauma.

It was the name “Li Ting,” like an imprint carved deep into her soul, that erupted with power at the moment it was about to be erased, forcefully dragging her back to reality from the “Warden” personality loop, which was filled with the smell of rust, blood, and cold authority.

An indescribable feeling, like the first warm current after the ice and snow melt, carrying the lingering fear and a… strange throbbing, quietly spread through Li Ting’s icy heart lake.

A match made in heaven.

This phrase trembled in Li Ting’s heart. An unknown emotion began to ferment, and the ripples spread silently to her limbs and bones.

The performance still needed to continue.

But this time, she was no longer a puppet completely consumed by the “Warden” persona.

She stood clearly within the boundaries of the performance.

She saw herself, and at the same time, she distinctly “saw” the Warden she was acting, no longer a chaotic fusion, but a clear separation and control.

This was an extremely marvelous experience.

It was as if her consciousness was divided into two layers.

One layer was above the abyss, calmly observing, analyzing, and guiding.

The other layer was immersed in the abyss, precisely drawing fragments of the Warden’s emotions: anger, coldness, possessiveness, and a twisted, pathological… interest in the prisoner before her.

She could feel the character’s darkness flowing within her, but she was no longer drowned by it. She attempted to harness this dark power, like riding a dangerous wild horse, the reins held firmly in her own hands.

In response to Si Xiaoxiao’s call that had just pulled her back to reality, and to continue this forced scene.

Li Ting slowly spoke the code word unique to them, using the tone of the Warden’s persona.

She paused deliberately, her gaze tangling with Si Xiaoxiao like a physical object, “Then, are you willing to die… for me?”

Those last three words were bitten out heavily, carrying the weight of judgment and a… hidden probe that Li Ting herself hadn’t even noticed, falling heavily:

“…to die for me?”

As the voice fell, the air seemed to solidify into viscous amber.

The dim wall lamp in the interrogation room cast a flickering light and shadow on Si Xiaoxiao’s face. The swelling from where she had bitten her lips had not yet subsided, and the congealed blood at the corner of her mouth showed a strange dark red under the light, like the juice of a broken petal.

“Of course.”

Si Xiaoxiao’s eyes were still fervent. She was always the prisoner like a moth flying into a flame, seeking to bring salvation to the person she loved most: “I am willing to dedicate the supreme secret treasure to you!”

“Secret treasure?” Li Ting’s eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. Her fingertip lightly tapped the cold interrogation table, while her other hand gripped the black ruler. A cold excitement flickered in her heart.

“Yes, the secret treasure that is enough to subvert everything.” The blood at the corner of her lips, in the dim light, was like a weeping rose, blooming with its final and most tragic splendor.

“Tell me—” Li Ting’s voice lowered, with a dangerous, magnetic, coaxing quality. Her body also leaned forward slightly, closing the already perilous distance between them. In the depths of her amber pupils, Si Xiaoxiao’s bloody and fanatical face was reflected, as if she were admiring a broken but beautiful work of art that she was about to dissect with her own hands.

Si Xiaoxiao lifted her head. Her cheeks were still a bit swollen, and the blood at her lips made her look incredibly aesthetically abused: “It’s hidden in—”

“It’s hidden in my chest.”

The crazy prisoner laughed. Her body trembled violently, but her gaze was even more hazy and maniacal, locking onto Li Ting as if she had targeted some kind of prey.

“Cut open my flesh and blood, delve into my inner organs…”

The pathological craving was interspersed with dreamy gasps. For this insane prisoner, this was a twisted, destructive ritual, a dance of degradation ignited by hatred but burning with the ashes of insane love.

“My pain, my cries, everything I am… will become the nourishment that sustains you, that proves your existence—”

Those starry nights, the vows, the embrace in the wind and snow, the mutual gaze at banquets… had long been etched into her bones.

Whether it was she or the other she, they were intertwined, regardless of identity—

The rebellion was not greedy ambition, nor was the framed crime of “treason” the reason that forced her onto the path of revenge.

Even the mountains of skeletons piled beneath the Rose Throne were not the reason she started the revolution.

They were just tinder to light the beacons, trumpets to lure followers into the charge.

And the truth was far darker, more selfish, and more… desperate.

“Whether for revolution or for defending the kingdom’s glory, I will bestow upon you supreme authority.”

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