I Ran Away After Flirting with the Goddess - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

An Rongrong crashed on the spot, and it took several dozen seconds for her system to reboot.

Under Shen Lishu’s puzzled gaze, she walked mechanically to a corner, stood against the wall, and dropped into a vertical split, burying her flushed face against her thigh.

Shen Lishu’s forehead was full of question marks. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “What are you doing?”

Don’t ask. If you must know, she was just too excited.

Steam was practically rising from An Rongrong’s perked-up ears. She said in a muffled voice, “I haven’t practiced in a long time. My heart was itching for it.”

Shen Lishu watched in amazement. She walked over and asked curiously, “Can you pull your leg behind your head?”

“I can.” An Rongrong wanted to do it, but she was wearing a skirt today. Even though she had safety shorts underneath, pulling her leg behind her head still felt inappropriate. “I’ll do it for you next time.”

An Rongrong had studied dance since she was a child, so her flexibility was exceptional. This was also the reason she had been able to stand out in the girl group and survive until the end.

“That’s amazing.” Shen Lishu couldn’t help but applaud, her admiration sincere.

Shen Lishu had previously wondered how An Rongrong managed to stand out among so many people to be chosen by Director Mao for the role of Luo Yue. Now, she had found the reason.

The temperament developed from years of dance made An Rongrong a perfect fit for Luo Yue’s character.

Flattered by the praise, An Rongrong desperately wanted to tell Shen Lishu she could also do a backflip. She wondered if Shen Lishu would be interested in coming to her house during a break to see it?

If she wasn’t enough, her cat definitely could!

As long as Shen Lishu was willing to go, she would even do backflips alongside the cat!

But An Rongrong was too shy to say it. When Director Mao called for preparations, she pulled her leg back, smoothed her skirt, and trotted after Shen Lishu with her script.

This shot featured the two of them in an ambiguous workplace interaction.

Before filming, Shen Lishu had run through this scene with An Rongrong, and An Rongrong’s lines and expressions were flawless.

However, once the cameras officially rolled, Shen Lishu and Director Mao discovered An Rongrong had one fatal flaw: her “camera awareness” was too. good.

During the kiss scene earlier, An Rongrong had been so fully immersed that she had forgotten the cameras—and even the fact that she was filming—entirely.

But now, filming a more routine, everyday plot, An Rongrong’s mind relaxed, and she would subconsciously search for the camera lens on set.

For example, after Luo Yue finished a work handover with Ye Tan and was supposed to just walk out, An Rongrong habitually glanced at the lens.

She was clearly aware of the problem and tried to correct it several times, but such a subconscious habit was impossible to break in a short time.

An Rongrong came from a “traffic” girl group background, unlike a professional actress like Shen Lishu. For An Rongrong, camera awareness was a requirement—maintaining her best state at all times to “catch” the lens.

With so many people on a girl group stage, who wouldn’t want their face on the screen a few more times? Thus, one had to have excellent camera sense and immediately look toward the lens when it was pointed at them.

Months of collective training and numerous public performances had turned looking at the camera into a muscle memory for An Rongrong; it was practically a reflex.

In a short scene, An Rongrong “cut” four or five times—the exact opposite of her one-take performance earlier.

Director Mao’s patience was visibly thin. By the second time An Rongrong made the same mistake, his face had darkened.

One should be grateful that this wasn’t the very first shot of the day; otherwise, with Director Mao’s temper, he would have surely given An Rongrong a harsh lecture.

“Indulgence, Scene 2, Take 6, Action!”

An Rongrong took a deep breath, putting on a professional face. In reality, her heart was failing her; her palms were sweaty, and her dark, bright eyes weren’t as confident as before.

She wasn’t afraid of Director Mao scolding her or others laughing at her; she just felt she was dragging Shen Lishu down.

Five whole takes. The Goddess had probably never NG-ed five times in her entire career.

‘”Knock, knock, knock.” Luo Yue held the documents in one arm, a smile on her face as she tapped the glass door. “These are the project sheets for this month. Manager Ye, please sign here.”‘

‘Ye Tan gripped the desk to propel herself and her chair over to Luo Yue. She reached out to hug her waist, calling out with a smile, “Baby.”‘

‘Luo Yue looked out the glass partition in a panic, terrified someone would see their actions or hear Ye Tan’s unfiltered words. Her face flushed as her eyelashes fluttered, and she whispered, “We’re at work.”‘

‘”Is it because of work that I can’t call you baby, or can I not call you baby whether we’re working or not?” Ye Tan swiveled her chair left and right, looking up at Luo Yue with mock resentment. “Baby, girlfriend, wife, wifey~”‘

It was getting more and more mushy. Luo Yue’s face burned; she felt that Ye Tan, by her own efforts, had single-handedly raised the temperature of the air conditioner in the room until it was too hot to breathe.

‘Luo Yue uneasily stuffed the documents into Ye Tan’s arms, her voice soft. “Don’t call me that during work.”‘

‘So that means I can call you whatever I want at any other time?’

‘Ye Tan arched an eyebrow at Luo Yue, who fled outward with a red face.’

‘Ye Tan gave a roguish whistle at Luo Yue’s slender silhouette as she walked away.’

Almost there. It was almost over. As long as she resisted looking at the camera, this take would pass.

An Rongrong kept giving herself mental suggestions, her thumb nail digging into the joint of her index finger. She was so tense she almost walked with the same arm and leg moving together. She desperately restrained her eyes from looking elsewhere, her face turning pale from the strain.

Just as she was one step away from walking out of the frame, Director Mao shouted in a deep voice, “Cut!”

An Rongrong’s heart, which had been in her throat, sank to the very bottom. Her mind went blank, and the color drained from her face.

Failed again.

“You didn’t look at the camera this time, but look at your reaction—look at that ‘forced’ expression,” Director Mao pointed at An Rongrong’s pale face on the screen, his voice involuntarily getting louder. “Is this how Luo Yue should behave?”

Luo Yue liked Ye Tan. Being secretly called “wife” behind their colleagues’ backs actually made her happy inside, but she was thin-skinned and couldn’t handle it, which was why she hurriedly stuffed the files into Ye Tan’s arms and ran out of the glass cubicle.

After avoiding Ye Tan’s burning gaze, Luo Yue’s normal reaction should have been a sweet recollection of their interaction, not An Rongrong’s pale, tensed expression—looking like a picture of chaste resistance against workplace sexual harassment.

Director Mao was full of vigor, and when he lectured people, his loud voice always gave off an extremely fierce impression.

The assistant director looked at An Rongrong with concern. She was a newcomer; encountering Director Mao in her first role… she hoped the girl wouldn’t be scolded to tears.

The assistant director remembered a time a guest actor was lectured by Director Mao until she questioned her own life, broke down crying on the spot, and almost quit acting forever.

It wasn’t until the shoot was over that the actress realized Director Mao wasn’t targeting her specifically; that was just his personality.

“The lunch boxes are here. How about we eat first?” the assistant director stepped in to soften the atmosphere. “It’s only the first day. Getting a one-take earlier was already great. Let’s eat first, let Rongrong find her feeling, and we’ll resume after lunch.”

Sometimes it was common for a single shot to take half a day.

Seeing Director Mao remain silent in tacit agreement, the assistant director quickly signaled to An Rongrong, whispering, “Go eat first.”

While the NGs were happening, Shen Lishu’s assistant had brought her her phone. It was her manager calling about work.

She had gone to the nearby stairwell to take the call, so she missed the scene of Director Mao lecturing An Rongrong.

By the time she returned, the assistant director was telling everyone to go to lunch.

An Rongrong sniffled and bit her lower lip. She clasped her hands and bowed to everyone in a circle, apologizing, “I’m sorry for causing trouble for everyone.”

When Shen Lishu finally walked over, An Rongrong’s dark, bright eyes were already clouded with a layer of mist. She whispered, “I’m sorry, Teacher Shen.”

“What’s wrong?” Shen Lishu crouched down slightly to check An Rongrong’s face. “Why do you look so pale? Did Director Mao scold you?”

Shen Lishu was naturally a bit taller than An Rongrong and was wearing stilettos, so she had to bend her legs and crouch slightly to see into her eyes.

An Rongrong shook her head hurriedly, her smile looking more painful than crying. She gripped her skirt with both hands and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “No, no, he didn’t scold me. I… I’m just too hungry. I’m going to eat now.”

An Rongrong bowed to Shen Lishu again and fled to grab a lunch box.

Once she was out of Shen Lishu’s sight, An Rongrong stood dazed in the empty stairwell holding her lunch box. She sniffled, and as soon as she looked down, tears began to fall.

It was so painful. Her chest felt as if it were stuffed with a clump of airtight, wet cotton, making it hard to breathe.

An Rongrong bit her lower lip. Her professional ethics as a female idol made her habitually use the pad of her ring finger to dab at the tears on her lower eyelid, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

She wasn’t actually that fragile or melodramatic.

Director Mao was a good person, she knew that. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t even have Shen Lishu’s WeChat. They might not have said a single extra word to each other outside of filming, let alone have Shen Lishu occasionally joke with her.

An Rongrong was just angry at her own uselessness—why couldn’t she break that bad habit? She had dragged Shen Lishu through six NGs for a tiny scene.

She was the Goddess’s “tow-along bottle” (burden), a stumbling block on her acting path, and a stain on her perfect one-take record.

An Rongrong crouched down, gripping the lunch box and burying her head in her knees. The excitement and joy of the kiss scene with Shen Lishu from a few hours ago had been swept away, leaving only guilt and regret.

She simply wasn’t cut out for this; maybe she just wasn’t suited for acting.

Most of the time, An Rongrong was optimistic like a little sun. She rarely fell into self-doubt like this, to the point of wanting to tell Director Mao to replace her.

If she hadn’t dragged Shen Lishu down with her, An Rongrong wouldn’t be this miserable.

Knock, knock. The door to the stairwell was tapped lightly, as if the person was afraid of startling whoever was inside.

An Rongrong turned her head back and saw Shen Lishu standing there, holding a lunch box in one hand and the doorknob in the other.

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