I Swear I Don’t Want to Be Everyone’s Favorite - Chapter 52

After hanging up the phone, Xiang Fan clicked her tongue in annoyance.

She felt she hadn’t performed well enough during the call and wanted to redial to give Jiang Yu another scolding. But then she remembered she didn’t know Jiang Luoyue’s password, so she had no choice but to let it go.

Staring at the darkened screen, Xiang Fan finally pieced everything together.

No wonder Luoyue bore such a resemblance to Jinglan, were they related by blood? But then why had the Jiang family deliberately targeted her before? It couldn’t be that the Jiang family, like them, only learned the truth after Jiang Lanhui’s outburst, could it?

When had Luoyue discovered the truth?

Recalling how Luoyue had unhesitatingly ignored Jiang Lianyan, Xiang Fan suddenly let out a soft laugh. She had never understood why the usually clear-headed and rational Luoyue would do such a thing in front of the cameras. Only now did it dawn on her it was an act of revenge.

A retaliation from the seemingly “insignificant” Jiang Luoyue against the colossal, towering presence of the Jiang family.

She was far from the gentle and mild-tempered person everyone imagined her to be; in fact, deep down, she harbored an indelible stubbornness.

Xiang Fan didn’t know what she had been through or how such a personality had formed. She simply sat quietly, feeling a chill and a pang of heartache on this rainy day.

Soon, Jiang Luoyue finished her makeup and returned to the set. Dressed in a red cheongsam adorned with pearls and jade that chimed softly with her movements, she smiled gently and thanked the person holding an umbrella for her.

Today’s shoot was for the first climax of The Ghost Marriage.

Gu Ling was getting married.

Since a ghost marriage was hardly a glorious affair, the ceremony was exceedingly simple, attended only by the village chief’s family. During the wedding, the village chief held a photo frame draped in red cloth, standing in for the person in the photo as he bowed with Gu Ling.

After the ceremony was completed and the marriage formalized, Gu Ling was led to a room lit with red candles. Before she entered, someone told her that once she made it through the night, she would officially be a member of the Sheng family. Gu Ling, naive and bewildered, saw the bed draped with red wedding quilts and hesitantly lay down.

She had never slept on such soft, fine bedding in her life. Closing her eyes amid the faint scent of incense, she drifted off. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in the courtyard of the Sheng residence, face to face with a girl not much older than her, dressed in red. Gu Ling initially thought it was a wedding gown, but after a moment of confusion, she realized it was burial attire.

Gu Ling recognized her she was the village chief’s daughter, Sheng Ling. Frail and sickly since childhood, she had failed to recover last year and passed away.

Why would a dead person appear before her? Before Gu Ling could even feel frightened, Sheng Ling spoke to her: “Go back. You don’t belong here.”

The living and the dead indeed shouldn’t linger together. But if not here, where else could she go?

As Gu Ling gazed at her, all she could think was that without the money from the ghost marriage with the Sheng family, she wouldn’t survive, and her ailing mother in the hospital would die.

So she couldn’t leave.

Sheng Ling seemed to read her thoughts and said calmly, “Then sit here until daybreak. They will come for you when the sun rises.”

Gu Ling nodded timidly. She watched as Sheng Ling walked away, only then noticing a massive coffin in the courtyard. Sheng Ling lay down inside it. Was this the first time she had witnessed someone or rather, a ghost climb into their own coffin?

What was it like inside a coffin? Did it have soft quilts like the ones in the Sheng family’s shop? Gu Ling didn’t understand. She stood in place, staring at the coffin all night. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in the bridal chamber from the previous night. The candles had burned out, and lying beside her was a corpse.

After staring for a long while, Gu Ling realized the face on the corpse was Sheng Ling’s. But when she left the room, everyone called out to her in panic, “Xiao Ling?”

Thinking they were calling her, she smiled timidly. Turning around, she saw someone rush into the room and carry away the cold corpse.

With the day’s filming wrapped up, many crew members finally understood why Jiang Luoyue was the one and only female lead of The Ghost Marriage

Gu Ling and Sheng Ling were both portrayed by her alone.

When she stood in the desolate courtyard, reciting her lines alone to an empty coffin, everyone couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat, as if there truly was a living ghost opposite Jiang Luoyue transparent, visible only to her.

The entire afternoon’s filming went exceptionally smoothly, with the only mishap occurring during the scene where Sheng Ling climbed into the coffin.

After all, from Gu Ling’s perspective, Sheng Ling was a ghost. The way a ghost would lie in a coffin naturally had to carry an eerie quality floating down to rest, vanishing on the spot, or perhaps leaping stiffly into the coffin like a reanimated corpse.

All three ideas were intriguing, but aside from the second one, Jiang Luoyue couldn’t manage them. The first required a wire harness, and the third. well, Jiang Luoyue wasn’t a cat. She couldn’t adjust her posture mid-air to land face-up. Jumping in would only result in her face smacking against the coffin, leaving her disfigured on the spot.

Since the coffin was much taller than her, Jiang Luoyue ended up climbing in using a stool. Xiang Fan nearly burst out laughing, barely containing her amusement as she remarked, “The actress is very dedicated. Extra meal for her tonight.”

When Jiang Luoyue crawled out, her face full of resentment, Xiang Fan was still holding a pomelo leaf, which she gently brushed over Jiang Luoyue. “Warding off bad luck.”

The tip of the leaf tickled Jiang Luoyue’s cheek. “Isn’t this used when someone gets out of prison?”

Xiang Fan pondered for a moment. “I couldn’t find anything online about how to ward off bad luck after lying in a coffin, so let’s use this as a temporary measure.”

Jiang Luoyue nodded obediently and followed her to review the footage from the afternoon. As they watched, the crew busied themselves packing up the props, people coming and going. It wasn’t until only the two of them remained that Jiang Luoyue belatedly felt a wave of exhaustion.

After all, the scenes were shot consecutively, and filming for hours with intense focus was undeniably draining.

She let out a soft yawn, tears blurring her vision. Xiang Fan handed her a tissue. “Tired? You should rest if you are.”

Jiang Luoyue shook her head. Xiang Fan asked again, “Are you scared?”

“It’s very cold inside,” Jiang Luoyue replied after a moment’s thought, sharing her genuine feelings. “Being alone in there felt just like earlier.”

Although Jiang Luoyue didn’t believe that the coffin, custom-made by the production team and unused by anyone but her, would attract any ghosts, given her own fantastical rebirth, she couldn’t help but hold a certain reverence for tales of spirits and the supernatural.

Xiang Fan nodded, noticing her disheveled hair and casually smoothing it. Seeing Jiang Luoyue’s gaze fixed on her, she subtly handed over a new coat.

“If you’re scared, you can stay with me.”

Distracted by the offer, Jiang Luoyue took the bait. “We can be together now, but not when it’s time to rest.”

“Who said it’s not allowed?” Xiang Fan glanced at her and chuckled, “I never said that you did.”

Jiang Luoyue imagined the scenario of the two of them alone in a room and shuddered. The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy, and she finally understood what it meant when people say that in awkward situations, one always tries to distract themselves with something else.

She instinctively reached for her phone but found nothing on her. It was only when Xiang Fan pointed to the machine that she realized the other had kept it safe for her. “Thank you.”

“No need.” Xiang Fan paused, stopping Jiang Luoyue before she could unlock her phone. “Jiang Yu called today. I thought it might be urgent, so I answered. Sorry.”

“Jiang Yu?”

Hearing that name again, Jiang Luoyue couldn’t help but feel startled, puzzled as to why the other party would reach out to her.

Xiang Fan fell silent, seemingly hesitating about whether to tell the truth. Jiang Luoyue waited patiently, and after a while, she heard Xiang Fan say slowly, “She told me that the Jiang family has a missing daughter and wants you to cooperate with them for a test.”

“I refused her conditions and told her to get lost.”

Xiang Fan finished in one breath and closed her mouth. She knew very well that, no matter how much she felt for Jiang Luoyue, this was a ‘secret’ between Jiang Luoyue and the Jiang family. Secrets should not be pried into by outsiders.

She didn’t know if Jiang Luoyue would feel offended or even grow to dislike her because of this.

Xiang Fan didn’t know, so she waited for Jiang Luoyue’s judgment.

But out of nervousness, Xiang Fan’s gaze drifted uncontrollably, like raindrops scattered by the wind, sometimes landing on Jiang Luoyue’s lips, sometimes turning away.

However, the expected confrontation never came. Aside from a bit of surprise, Jiang Luoyue actually began to curl the corners of her lips and asked in return, “Is that all?”

Xiang Fan was taken aback and replied uncertainly, “Should there be more? Like the address of the testing hospital?”

Jiang Luoyue blinked. “For example, what else you scolded her for.”

“Same as how I scolded Fu Yunqing and the others.”

Xiang Fan fell silent and asked with difficulty, “In your mind, do I really love scolding people that much?”

Jiang Luoyue smiled. “Just a joke”

Admittedly, she had felt a bit flustered at first, but when she saw Xiang Fan even more nervous than herself, that fluster suddenly seemed insignificant. What took over Jiang Luoyue’s mind instead was how to tease Xiang Fan with this topic.

All the fears of the past seemed to be gradually turning into conversation topics with a friend. Jiang Luoyue wasn’t sure whether this was good or bad, but at least she didn’t feel bad about it in the moment in fact, she was enjoying it.

Seeing the curve of her eyes, Xiang Fan, who had been extremely tense, slowly let out a sigh of relief and added her final confession: “I also blocked her number.”

Jiang Luoyue laughed. “You don’t even know the password. How did you block it?”

Xiang Fan looked utterly innocent. “The carrier said the number called too many times from an unknown source and suspected it was harassment, so they asked if I wanted to block it.”

Jiang Luoyue was speechless but made no move to remove Jiang Yu’s number from the blacklist.

She didn’t say anything more, and Xiang Fan didn’t ask further. Instead, she sat beside Jiang Luoyue, both of them tilting their heads back to gaze at the moon.

The rain had stopped, and the moonlight grew clearer, exceptionally bright. In the quiet, aside from the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, it seemed only the breathing of the person beside her remained.

For several seconds, Xiang Fan finally heard Jiang Luoyue say, “Ever since you mentioned at the hospital that day how similar I am to Jing Lan, I’ve been thinking about one thing.”

“Why could you see the resemblance between us at a glance, while they couldn’t?”

The Jiang family had invested so much effort in nurturing Jiang Lianyan, molding her into someone flawless and exceptionally perfect. They ought to cherish and love Jiang Lianyan deeply.

Since they loved her, they would naturally take an interest in the variety show Jiang Lianyan was participating in. They would have checked the list of guests, discovered Jiang Luoyue, noticed her resemblance to Jing Lan, and proactively inquired about it.

If they had remained inactive all along, Jiang Luoyue might have assumed that the Jiang family hadn’t uncovered the truth or if they had, they were deliberately avoiding it, unwilling to acknowledge her.

But the Jiang family only made their belated appearance after her issues with her adoptive parents had blown up on social media, as if they had just pieced everything together.

“Because they don’t value her,” Jiang Luoyue said. “They fulfill her demands, but they don’t truly care about her.”

If Jiang Lianyan hadn’t been injured, the Jiang family might never have known that Jiang Luoyue had once collaborated with her.

Xiang Fan turned her head and saw the reflection of the moon in Jiang Luoyue’s pupils. She seemed to be reminiscing about something, lost in uncertainty as she murmured, “They don’t love Jiang Lianyan as much as I thought they did.”

Not enough to insist on Jiang Lianyan exclusively, yet they don’t love Jiang Luoyue either.

The Jiang family treated Jiang Lianyan like cultivating a plant, providing everything she needed to grow. The more perfect Jiang Lianyan became, the more it showcased their meticulous nurturing. They regarded her as their possession, reveling in the praise it brought them.

Perhaps they also wanted Jiang Luoyue to become a second Jiang Lianyan, but Jiang Luoyue had already been shaped by her limited environment, developing traits and a personality they deemed imperfect. Since they couldn’t change her, it was better to cut their losses early.

From start to finish, they were merely solving a multiple-choice question. Yet Jiang Luoyue stubbornly believed it was her own fault, tormenting herself over it, letting it fester like an inflamed thorn buried deep in her heart.

If it weren’t her, it would have been someone else. Anyone would have been the same they treated everyone equally.

Jiang Luoyue’s tone was calm, as if stating a fact. She understood the Jiang family and their ways far better than Xiang Fan had imagined, almost as if she had had prolonged contact with them before.

Xiang Fan didn’t know her experiences, but that didn’t stop her from sharing her perspective.

“Their thoughts don’t matter,” Xiang Fan said. “What matters is, Jiang Luoyue.” She called her by her full name, just as she had when they were still unfamiliar, but her tone was gentle, her eyes holding a faint smile and certainty. “What do you want to do, and what have you gained from this situation?”

Jiang Luoyue finally withdrew her gaze and looked at her. Staring at the moonlight for too long had inevitably strained her eyes. Under Xiang Fan’s steady gaze, she pursed her lips and asked, “If it were you, what would you do?”

Xiang Fan seemed to have pondered this for a long time and spoke with ease, “I’d have Jiang Yu transfer all her shares and properties to me, hire a professional team to wage a commercial war against the Jiang Corporation, and expose their ugly true faces through both cultural and physical means.”

Jiang Luoyue paused. “I can somewhat understand the cultural part, but what does ‘physical’ entail?”

Xiang Fan countered, “If you ask Jiang Yu for it, do you think she’ll just hand it over?”

Seeing Jiang Luoyue shake her head, she continued, “Since she won’t give it, of course, we’d have to resort to force.”

Unless force couldn’t solve the problem, then they’d have to consider other methods.

Jiang Luoyue was left speechless.

Yet it was undeniable that Xiang Fan’s method was incredibly straightforward. Despite the severe risk of imprisonment, success promised immense profit with minimal effort far more lucrative than racking one’s brains to exploit legal loopholes.

She laughed softly, pausing for a long moment before saying, “Thank you.”

Xiang Fan pinched her cheek and, before Jiang Luoyue could react, remarked casually, “It’s late. Let’s go.”

On the way back, Jiang Luoyue stepped on Xiang Fan’s shadow under the moonlight. Back in school, her classmates had loved doing this, it seemed like a way for girls their age to express affection. Jiang Luoyue had wanted to do it too, but she stood out too much at school, and no one truly knew her well. This became one of her lingering regrets.

She had no real friends, no lover, no family. She had come into this world with nothing and would die alone.

But now, after reopening her eyes just a few months later, she suddenly had so many ties to this world. Every time she thought about it, Jiang Luoyue felt as though she were in a dream.

Under the gentle, water-like glow of the moonlight, a whimsical thought struck her: “If only I had met all of you sooner.”

The earlier they met, the more suffering could have been avoided, and those indescribable regrets and thoughts would have found a place to be shared.

Xiang Fan replied unhurriedly, “It’s me, not ‘all of you.’”

After correcting her, she said to Jiang Luoyue, “It’s not too late now, is it?”