I Don't Want To Fall In Love With The Heroine [Quick Wear] - Chapter 11

Bai Qian had a massive headache. “Find some time to explain our relationship to her, would you?”

Shao Zizhi put on a look of genuine distress. “I tried, but she won’t listen. She thinks I’m just determined to keep her in the dark. You know what her temper is like—what can I do?”

Bai Qian sighed. “Fine. She’s the only one who likes to let her imagination run wild like that. Let’s just drop it for now. I’m feeling a bit dizzy; I’m going to squint for a bit. Wake me up when we arrive.”

“Okay.”

*****

Shao Zizhi began to fall into character with alarming frequency.

For several nights in a row, Bai Qian was jolted awake. Each time she walked out, she would see the other woman playing out that heart-wrenching scene of “losing a child and slaying a husband,” just like that first night.

Bai Qian went from panic to calm, and eventually, to total numbness.

Tonight was another one of Shao Zizhi’s “in-character” nights. Before this, “Dugu Han” had been kissed twelve times in despair and twelve times in bashfulness. This “method acting sickness” only flared up at night; since Zizhi returned to her normal self during the day, Bai Qian hadn’t brought it up, fearing that talking about it might cause her to become “Empress Jiang” during the day as well.

Just like the night before, after Bai Qian recited the line, “The hour grows late, Lady Jiang; I shall come for you again tomorrow,” she stood up to leave the bed.

But just as she stepped into her slippers, a hand shot out from under the covers—unlike previous nights—and gripped her tightly.

“My Lord Han, tonight is our wedding night. Where are you going?”

Hearing the woman’s shy, timid voice, Bai Qian’s first reaction was: Finally! Thirteen days later, a change in plot!

But as the meaning of Empress Jiang’s words sank in, Bai Qian’s expression turned… complicated.

Bai Qian: ?

Having finally fulfilled her wish to marry her beloved, Shao Zizhi finished her shy question and couldn’t help but urge: “Why has My Lord not come to bed yet? The night is long; it is time for us to rest.”

Bai Qian began to frantically think of a way to reject this new story arc.

The other woman, however, was growing impatient. She flipped back the duvet, and her soft body, silhouetted by the night, pressed tremblingly against “Dugu Han.” Empress Jiang reached out—a nervous yet determined movement—and wrapped her arms carefully around the “man’s” waist.

Her thick, long hair veiled her flushed face. On the verge of truly becoming a wife, the girl pressed her cheek against the “man” and spoke with total dependence: “My Lord and I are now husband and wife. No matter what My Lord wishes to do to me, I would be happy. My Lord, the night is deep. We should…”

The rest of her words faded into a timid, barely audible whisper.

Bai Qian grabbed Shao Zizhi by the arms and forcefully pinned the clinging woman back onto the bed. She briskly pulled the duvet over her, tucking her in tightly, and hissed through gritted teeth, “Shao Zizhi! Even when you’re in character, you need to know where to draw the line!”

Empress Jiang let out a “wah” and burst into tears.

“My Lord, do you no longer want me?”

Her voice was low and thin, the kind of sound that makes one’s heart tighten, making it impossible to say another harsh word.

“My Lord, do you no longer want me?”

As if possessed, Empress Jiang writhed uneasily on the bed, her mouth repeating that heartbreaking sentence over and over. “My Lord… My Lord…”

Bai Qian endured it as long as she could before letting out a breath of helpless, silent fury. When the grieving woman’s sobs grew so heavy she could barely breathe, Bai Qian finally pulled back the covers and climbed back in.

Empress Jiang’s crying stopped instantly. Like a piteous little animal, she whimpered and burrowed into “Dugu Han’s” embrace, her cold hands clutching the “man’s” shirt for security.

“My Lord, please don’t leave me… My Lord…”

Her voice grew softer and softer until it vanished into the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Bai Qian cautiously climbed out of bed, rubbing her throbbing temples. The female lead was so professional, so immersed, and it was putting Bai Qian through absolute torture—yet she couldn’t even scold her. Infuriating!

******

Having agreed to ship a CP with Zhao Tong, the two of them—who usually stopped communicating the moment their scenes ended—began to make a conscious effort to interact. After ten days of this, they had grown significantly closer.

Bai Qian had picked up a lunch box of beef and onions. She had just sat down when Zhao Tong arrived with her own meal.

“I have a question for you.”

Bai Qian broke apart her disposable chopsticks. “I know you love acting. I want to know, out of all the roles you’ve prepared for, have you ever experienced a time where you fell too deep into the character?”

Zhao Tong’s eating motion stopped instantly. Her usually bland expression turned dangerous.

Bai Qian: “…Sorry! I didn’t mean to poke at a sore spot! As an apology, I’ll give you the beef from my lunch, okay? Don’t look at me so gloomily, it’s scary!”

Zhao Tong gave a huff and unceremoniously picked the largest piece of beef out of the bowl. “Why hasn’t Shao Liangrong come to visit the set lately?”

Zhao Tong mimicked her: “Why does Shao Zizhi never come to visit the set?”

Bai Qian: “When can Shao Liangrong come over? I want to improve my diet. If she can’t make it, she could at least send some food over.”

Zhao Tong: “When can Shao Zizhi come over? She’s never improved our diet. If she’s too busy, she could at least send some food over.”

“…Zhao Tong, you’re so childish. Can you please try to maintain your ‘noble and cold little enchantress’ persona?”

“It’s ‘Little Fairy,’ thank you.”

Bai Qian laughed. “Alright, alright, Little Fairy. You’ve worked with a lot of actors; tell me about what I asked—falling into character.”

“You have a living example right at home, and you’re asking me?”

Bai Qian: “I just want to ask you.”

Zhao Tong tutted. “You’re so spoiled.”

Bai Qian: ?

“Fine. Let me think. Do you know Bai Yao? The one who retired last year.”

“The Bai Yao who won Best Actor at the Medo Awards three years in a row?”

“That’s the one. The industry rumor is that he won so many awards he got bored with acting and left to pursue a ‘higher calling.'”

“I know that. Fans actually blocked his agency’s entrance when he decided to retire. I don’t think anyone even caught a final glimpse of him?”

Zhao Tong lowered her voice, a trace of pity on her face. “The truth is, he fell so deep into a role that he actually became that character. He still hasn’t come out of it.”

“That deep?” Bai Qian thought for a moment, stunned. “If I remember correctly, his last role before retiring was a psychiatric patient, right? That movie was so realistic and depressing that it’s hard to even find a copy of it now.”

“Exactly. The character ‘Li Jingan.’ The real Bai Yao is now Li Jingan.”

“How do you know this so clearly? Unless…” Is he another one of your relatives?

“My dad owns the psychiatric hospital.”

Bai Qian understood instantly and sighed. “That’s tragic. He played roles much more tragic and dramatic than Li Jingan; why this one…”

“What about you? Why are you suddenly asking me this? Have you fallen into ‘Tong Laiqi’?” (Tong Laiqi was Bai Qian’s character in The Two Sisters’ Cases).

Bai Qian shook her head frantically. “No, no! I’m just curious. Do you know if Senior Bai showed any symptoms before he fell in?”

“Supposedly there were signs, but it’s just hearsay. Before he prepared for the role, a neighbor sent a tip to a blogger saying they often saw a middle-aged man who looked exactly like a famous actor wandering around outside the psychiatric hospital across from their house at midnight, acting exactly like a patient. People praised his dedication back then. Since few people know his actual condition now, no one connected the dots. If you’re looking for a sign, I guess it’s just ‘extreme professionalism’?”

Hearing this, Bai Qian panicked.

An actor with over thirty years of experience could end up like that. Shao Zizhi was the female lead, but her actual experience wasn’t that vast. If she ended up like that senior—truly becoming “Empress Jiang”—then Bai Qian’s mission to save her would essentially be a failure.

To prevent this ending, Bai Qian made a decision immediately.

That night, she clutched her pillow and knocked on Shao Zizhi’s door.

“Shao Zizhi. Starting today, until you officially begin filming Autumn Chill on the Han River, you’re sleeping with me.”

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