Let's Get Married on the First Day of Rebirth - Chapter 22

Does life have its benefactors?

Before the age of twenty-five, Qu Ange would have scoffed at such a notion. She believed that success stemmed mostly from one’s own efforts, intelligence, or birthright, with luck playing only a minor role.

But after witnessing countless beautiful, hardworking, and talented individuals in the entertainment industry, some things became clearer, while others seemed more elusive. In her past life, she often wondered: if she hadn’t met Lin Zhenyi at twenty-six, and if Lin Zhenyi hadn’t taken a special interest in her, would she still have succeeded?

The answer was obvious.

After twenty-six, she would have been on a steady decline, eventually forced to retire due to age.

She still remembered how she met Lin Zhenyi—on the set of a Qing Dynasty web drama. Lin Zhenyi, then sixty, played a matronly role. Qu Ange, with no connections and burdened by a terrible contract, had to tread carefully. She noticed the assistant director treating Lin Zhenyi, who had a minor role, with unusual respect. Seizing the chance, Qu Ange struck up a conversation. By the end of the two-month shoot, they had grown close. Lin Zhenyi said Qu Ange reminded her of an old friend, and they stayed in touch. Though Qu Ange had saved enough money, going head-to-head with Guangju Entertainment would have been tough. But Lin Zhenyi helped her resolve her contract issues and introduced her to the director of the film that turned her career around.

At first, Qu Ange thought Lin Zhenyi was just a well-connected veteran in the industry. It wasn’t until six months later that she learned Lin Zhenyi came from a prominent family and acted purely out of passion. That web drama was Lin Zhenyi’s last project—that winter, she retreated into long-term medical care, no longer suited for the grueling demands of filming.

In other words, if Qu Ange hadn’t seized that opportunity at twenty-six, she would never have met Lin Zhenyi.

Later, Qu Ange watched some of Lin Zhenyi’s dramas and noticed she particularly enjoyed period pieces, though her acting never improved much—not that she seemed to care. The most popular among them was Ming Palace Flowers, a tale of harem intrigue—exactly the kind of show that was all the rage those years.

She hadn’t met Lin Zhenyi until twenty-six in her past life, but if she could land a role in Ming Palace Flowers, she could meet her four years earlier.

This wasn’t just about leveraging Lin Zhenyi’s resources sooner. Qu Ange genuinely admired and respected her; the chance to know her earlier was something she’d cherish.

And Zhou Yue was truly despicable. In her past life, he’d claimed the competition for Ming Palace Flowers was too fierce and he couldn’t secure her an audition. Now that she was defying him, he was dangling it like a carrot—probably to placate her.

As for the variety show Human Observer, Qu Ange had little interest and could dismiss it easily. But this audition mattered. Sitting up straighter, she weighed her words and asked, “When’s the audition?”

“Come to the company, and I’ll tell you in person,” Zhou Yue replied, refusing to budge.

Qu Ange said, “I’m already back. I had some things to take care of these past few days, but I was planning to come to the company soon anyway.”

As she finished speaking, she saw Zuo Qingyan walk into the café.

Her eyes widened as she stared at Zuo Qingyan, feeling both familiarity and strangeness. At first glance, there wasn’t much difference in appearance, but the way she dressed, her expression, and her aura were worlds apart from the Zuo Qingyan of ten years later. The current Zuo Qingyan was youthful and shy. As she looked at Zuo Qingyan, Zuo Qingyan also looked back at her, hesitating as if trying to figure out whether the person staring at her was the one she was supposed to meet. Qu Ange then raised her cup slightly, showing off the Americano she had ordered—she had mentioned on WeChat that she would be waiting by the window with an Americano.

Zuo Qingyan seemed even more flustered. She adjusted her glasses with her fingers and walked over, opening her mouth to greet her. But Qu Ange raised an index finger to her lips, signaling for silence with a soft “shh,” then pointed at her phone to indicate she was on a call.

On the phone, Zhou Yue was sneering, “Oh, so you’ve learned to be polite now, Qu Ange? If you really cared about the company, you’d drop everything else and come here immediately. You were the one begging me to sign the contract back then, and now you’re putting on airs with me? How fitting.”

Qu Ange chuckled. “Misunderstanding, Brother Zhou. My girlfriend’s been giving me a hard time the past couple of days, so I’ve been a bit distracted.”

“Girlfriend…” Zhou Yue’s temper flared again, but he suppressed it and said, “When are you coming to the company?”

Qu Ange replied, “Hard to say. When’s the audition?”

Zhou Yue laughed in frustration. “Are you playing games with me? I told you, come to the company first, then we’ll talk!”

Qu Ange feigned forgetfulness. “Ah, my bad, I totally forgot. Well, how about tomorrow?”

In truth, she had time this afternoon, but she couldn’t let Zhou Yue sense her eagerness. If he realized how much she cared about this audition, he’d undoubtedly use it as leverage.

Zhou Yue snapped, “Come this afternoon. The registration deadline is today.”

Qu Ange pretended to doubt him. “Really?”

Zhou Yue retorted, “Suit yourself,” and hung up.

Qu Ange couldn’t suppress her smile as she looked up at Zuo Qingyan. She knew Zhou Yue well—his words were just a tactic to provoke her. When she raised her head, she saw Zuo Qingyan still standing there, dazed, as if lost in thought. Propping her chin on her hand, Qu Ange said, “Sit down.”

Zuo Qingyan sat down, her face flushed crimson.

From the moment she entered the café, Zuo Qingyan had been stunned by Qu Ange. Honestly, there were about a dozen people scattered around the café, but because of Qu Ange’s presence, everyone else seemed to blur into the background like a pixelated wall. Zuo Qingyan had only planned to steal a glance, but unexpectedly, their eyes met, and the other woman even raised her coffee cup in acknowledgment.

Even so, it took Zuo Qingyan at least five seconds to realize that this was the person she had come to meet. Overwhelmed by shock, she approached, about to speak, only to see the other woman tilt her head up, press a finger to her lips, and softly “shh” her. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on her face, giving her skin a translucent, jade-like quality. Her slightly plump lips brushed against slender fingertips, where a sliver of sunlight rested, making them seem to shimmer.

Zuo Qingyan’s mind went blank, and it wasn’t until the other person spoke that she snapped back to reality. In those past few minutes, she had completely forgotten why she had come here in the first place. Without a doubt, the woman before her was the most beautiful and poised person she had ever seen—so stunning that it transcended any sense of jealousy, envy, or self-consciousness. It was beauty on an entirely different level. She even felt that the other woman speaking to her was an act of condescension.

Bowing her head, she stammered, “Hello, Ms. Qu. I—I just ran here from the subway station, so I’m a bit flustered. Sorry about that.”

Qu Ange smirked. “Were you staring at me just now?”

Zuo Qingyan’s head jerked up in shock. Though it was the truth, how could Qu Ange be the one to say it out loud?

Seeing Zuo Qingyan’s stunned expression, Qu Ange couldn’t help but laugh.

This version of Zuo Qingyan—how can she be so adorably clueless?

The Zuo Qingyan she knew from ten years later was stern, decisive, and never spoke a word outside of work. It had taken nearly two years for them to grow familiar enough for Qu Ange to learn that she had a five-year-old daughter and a husband who had been her high school sweetheart—a relationship spanning over a decade.

Qu Ange also knew that Zuo Qingyan greatly admired her looks though many people called her beautiful, tastes in the world varied wildly. Some thought she was nothing special, while others found her breathtakingly gorgeous. Zuo Qingyan belonged to the latter group. Once, after getting drunk, Zuo Qingyan had grabbed her hand and lavished her with an astonishingly poetic stream of compliments about her appearance, concluding with:

“If I weren’t as straight as a ruler, I’d have fallen hopelessly in love with you. Although—”

“Although what?” Qu Ange had asked, already so pleased by the praise that she had discreetly hit the record button on her phone.

Zuo Qingyan slurred, “Although your personality is a real mood-killer. If only you could just… not talk.”

Qu Ange: “…”

She deleted the recording.

That night, Qu Ange missed Xu Mi even more. She was certain Xu Mi accepted her—flaws and all.

Lost in these “memories,” Qu Ange didn’t forget the matter at hand. She outlined her goal to Zuo Qingyan: turning 500,000 yuan into four times that amount within a month. Zuo Qingyan’s expression darkened—it was practically impossible. But Qu Ange ignored her concerns, listing the stocks she wanted to buy and explaining her strategy: spread the money across these stocks, and whenever one hit the daily limit up, withdraw funds from the underperforming or declining ones to pour into the surging stock.

Zuo Qingyan was aghast. This approach defied all conventional wisdom, and she couldn’t help but argue against it. Qu Ange simply said, “Don’t worry about it. Just do as I say.”

Fresh out of grad school, Zuo Qingyan was indignant. She thought Qu Ange was recklessly gambling and blurted, “If you’re so confident, why even hire me? Just open an account and do it yourself!”

Her voice rose with agitation, and she even stood up—only to freeze when she noticed Qu Ange’s amused gaze, watching her with quiet fascination.

That look made her feel like she was throwing a tantrum. Immediately, she sat back down, flustered. “I—I’m sorry, I got carried away. My apologies…”

Her face burned as she bowed her head, but then she heard Qu Ange’s gentle voice: “It’s fine. Speak your mind. I’ll listen to your advice in the future. But this month, just follow my lead, okay?”

It sounded like she was coaxing a child.

Zuo Qingyan looked up at Qu Ange, who was gazing at her with a helpless expression but didn’t seem the least bit angry.

Though she didn’t know why, this left her feeling pleasantly surprised.

As the two locked eyes, Xu Mi happened to step out to buy groceries. Since the supermarket was right next to the café, she passed by the window—then, spotting someone familiar, she backtracked and witnessed the scene.