Let's Get Married on the First Day of Rebirth - Chapter 39

Qiu Shuiyi was right.

Qu Ange was truly nauseating.

But there was a certain charm to that nauseating quality. If a person was riddled with scars and on the verge of collapse, words that weren’t direct enough couldn’t stir any ripples.

Sufficiently nauseating words were like a flint striking a spark. No need for dry firewood or coal, they themselves were the ignition.

Xu Mi heard it abruptly, feeling as if she were a fish hooked from the depths of the water, leaping out with a splash.

Qu Ange handed her a glass of water and said, “Drink some warm water.”

Xu Mi took it.

Qu Ange sat back down beside Xu Mi, this time a little closer, faintly sensing the warmth emanating from the other person. A human warmth much higher than the air of the rainy night. This warmth allowed the faintly burning embers in her heart to gradually ignite.

Qu Ange stared blankly at the screen when suddenly her phone rang. She answered it and heard Lin Wanzhao’s voice: “We’ve arrived at the hotel. I have a room to myself.”

“Where are you staying?”

“XX Grand Hotel.”

“We’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning when you wake up, and you can leave with us then.”

Suddenly, Qiu Shuiyi’s voice came from the side—

“What do you mean by that, Qu Ange? Are you guarding against me?”

Qu Ange frowned slightly. “Didn’t you say there were two rooms?”

Lin Wanzhao said obediently, “She said the water heater in her room is broken. We got a little wet in the rain, and she wants to take a shower.”

Qu Ange rolled her eyes. “Don’t play games with me. Go back to your own room, or I’ll call Lin Zhenyi right now. If the water heater is broken, call the hotel front desk. I’d like to see if the hotel really doesn’t have a third room.”

Qiu Shuiyi yelled angrily, “Qu Ange, do you still want to sign with our company? Do you even know how good our company’s benefits are?”

Hearing this, Qu Ange couldn’t help but laugh.

Because she remembered how, in the future, Brilliant Pictures would be called the state-owned enterprise of the entertainment industry.

After laughing, she looked up and saw Xu Mi watching her curiously. When their eyes met, Xu Mi flustered and looked away. Qu Ange licked her lips and said, “I’m not planning to sign with any company. After finishing this film, I’m going to retire from the entertainment industry.”

She stared at Xu Mi’s face.

Xu Mi lowered her head. Hearing this, she didn’t look happy at all; instead, her brows furrowed slightly.

Qu Ange felt a little disheartened, wondering why Xu Mi still wasn’t happy. What did she have to say or do to make her happy?

Qiu Shuiyi raised her voice in surprise on the other end: “Really? What a waste! Don’t do that. I’m determined to sign you—you’re so beautiful.”

Qu Ange said, “Don’t change the subject. Get out of Lin Wanzhao’s room and give her back her phone.”

After a few more exchanges, Qiu Shuiyi finally left.

Qu Ange hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and looked at Xu Mi. “So, what do you think?”

Xu Mi evaded the question. “What do you mean, what do I think?”

Qu Ange said, “My determination. I’ve clearly rejected Qiu Shuiyi.”

Xu Mi frowned again. Biting her lip, she stood up and said, “I’m going to sleep.”

Qu Ange didn’t understand. She reached out and grabbed Xu Mi’s hand. “Do you think I’m lying?”

Xu Mi shook her head.

She spoke softly, “I don’t know how to say it. Actually, I don’t even understand it myself.”

She felt a vague unease, though she couldn’t pinpoint its source.

As she reached the bedroom door, she heard Qu Ange’s voice from behind—

“Then do you still know clearly whether you love me or not?”

Xu Mi turned around. The brief pause wasn’t hesitation, but because the emotion was too profound to easily put into words.

After a long moment, she nodded and said, “Mm.”

It was impossible not to love. Just seeing the other person appear made her heart brighten like a sudden clearing sky—this was something instinctual, impossible to deceive herself about.

Hearing this, Qu Ange smiled and said, “As long as you say so, that’s enough. Then I’ll keep trying my best.”

…

Qu Ange spent the night curled up on the sofa. The next morning, she was awakened by a knock at the door.

The sky was just beginning to lighten—for a summer morning, this level of brightness meant it couldn’t be past five o’clock. Still half-asleep, she got up and opened the door to find Lin Wanzhao smiling at the doorstep.

“Good morning, Sister Qu.”

Still groggy, Qu Ange mumbled, “So early.”

Lin Wanzhao looked uneasy. “Too early? But didn’t you tell me to come find you in the morning?”

Qu Ange wanted to say it didn’t have to be this early, but seeing Lin Wanzhao’s timid, Bambi-like expression, the words stuck in her throat. She felt as though saying them would be like scolding the other.

She stepped back to let Lin Wanzhao in and said, “Come in then. Have a seat and rest for a bit. Xu Mi probably isn’t awake yet, so keep quiet.”

No sooner had she spoken than Xu Mi emerged from the room, drifting like a ghost into the kitchen and beginning to wash up without a word.

Qu Ange: “…Oh, she’s awake.”

Lin Wanzhao sat upright on the sofa, perched on the very edge with her back straight and hands resting on her knees.

This was just like how she would be in the future. Every time Qu Ange saw her like this, she wanted to ask, “Aren’t you tired?”

In her previous life, facing the deep and reserved Lin Wanzhao, she hadn’t dared to ask. But now she did. Slouching lazily on the sofa with her legs crossed, Qu Ange tilted her head and asked Lin Wanzhao, “Aren’t you tired sitting like that?”

Lin Wanzhao smiled. “Not tired. It’s good for the spine.”

Then she looked concerned. “The way you’re sitting… is quite bad for your spine.”

Hearing this, Qu Ange straightened up slightly, feeling awkward. To cover her embarrassment, she glanced toward the door and asked, “Didn’t Qiu Shuiyi come with you?”

Lin Wanzhao replied, “You didn’t tell me to bring her along.”

Qu Ange couldn’t help but laugh at that, thinking to herself that it would probably be quite difficult for Qiu Shuiyi to fool Lin Wanzhao.

By the time Xu Mi finished washing up in the kitchen, it was Qu Ange’s turn. Noticing there were some leftover egg noodles and scallions in the kitchen, Xu Mi glanced at Lin Wanzhao and asked, “Have you eaten?”

Lin Wanzhao shook her head.

Xu Mi asked, “Want to join us?”

Lin Wanzhao nodded.

Xu Mi took out the ingredients, quickly prepared them, and stir-fried a pan of egg and shredded pork noodles. The noodles were coated in egg, giving them a golden hue, and sprinkled with scallions for color and flavor. When she brought the dish to the table, Lin Wanzhao and Qu Ange were already seated. They both looked up at her—two strikingly beautiful faces, each with a distinct charm: one exquisitely bright and lovely, the other elegantly dignified. For a moment, Xu Mi felt as if her humble home had been graced by their presence.

She once again vaguely felt that she and Qu Ange were indeed not from the same world, but she didn’t show it. She placed the fried noodles on the table and picked up the chopsticks.

The noodles carried their unique aroma, mingling with the fragrance of vegetable oil, creating a natural flavor that stimulated the taste buds. Though Qu Ange was thinking about needing to lose weight before joining the crew, she couldn’t resist eating two bowls. What was even more exaggerated was Lin Wanzhao, who cleared every last bit of leftovers before standing up, leaning heavily on the table.

“What’s wrong? Are you too full?” Qu Ange asked.

Lin Wanzhao frowned and nodded, her expression pained. Just then, a half-used pack of stomach medicine was handed over from the side. Xu Mi, holding a cup of hot water in her other hand, said, “Take something to help with digestion. This was left over from before, but it shouldn’t be expired.”

Lin Wanzhao blinked and nodded vigorously.

Xu Mi sensed something was off and gave Lin Wanzhao a puzzled look. After a while, Lin Wanzhao finished the medicine and walked over to Xu Mi with the remaining pills, silently pursing her lips as she handed them over.

Xu Mi said, “You should give them to Qu Ange…” She hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Are you not planning to talk to me anymore?”

Lin Wanzhao pinched her own lips shut.

Xu Mi’s lips twitched as she said, “Suit yourself.”

Lin Wanzhao then whispered, “You said I talk too much. I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”

Just as she said this, Qu Ange walked over. Hearing the words, she was utterly stunned, and the bag in her hand clattered to the floor.

…

An hour later, Qiu Shuiyi appeared at the entrance of the residential complex. Qu Ange said to her, “What’s going on with you? You didn’t even know she came here alone. What if she got lost? Would you even know? How are we supposed to explain that to Senior Lin Zhenyi?”

Qiu Shuiyi had rushed over in a hurry, still half-asleep, her hair sticking out in all directions as she yawned repeatedly. “I’d say it was you who lured her away.”

Qu Ange replied, “I asked you to bring her here.” She reached out, pulled Lin Wanzhao over, and pushed her toward Qiu Shuiyi, saying, “Take her around to have some fun, but make sure to keep me updated. Mimi and I are heading home now.”

Even as Qu Ange pushed her by the shoulders, Lin Wanzhao stubbornly turned her head and said, “I want to go home with you too.”

Qu Ange smiled and said, “You’ve been to my place before, right? It’s really boring. Look at this Sister Qiu—she’s worldly and experienced. She can take you anywhere you want to go.”

Lin Wanzhao thought for a moment and said, “Alright.”

Qu Ange let go of her, relieved, only to hear Lin Wanzhao say to Qiu Shuiyi, “I want to go to their house.”

Qiu Shuiyi beamed and said, “Absolutely no problem.”

Qu Ange: “…” She finally realized that while Lin Wanzhao might be naive, Qiu Shuiyi was no match for her.

Just as the four of them were about to head back together, Qu Ange received a call from Wang Jia. Wang Jia spoke vaguely, asking if she had any urgent matters. If not, would she be willing to join the crew tomorrow.

Hearing this, Qu Ange sensed something might be up and tentatively asked, “Is there something going on in the crew?”

Wang Jia replied, “It’s hard to say. You’ll know when you get here.”

After hanging up, Qu Ange felt torn. Xu Mi, who had overheard part of the conversation, said, “You just got here yesterday, and now you have to go back? That’s too exhausting.”

Qu Ange: “I…”

Xu Mi looked at her and said, “If you’ve made up your mind, it doesn’t have to be right this moment.”

Qu Ange held Xu Mi’s hand and said, “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll be back soon.”

Qiu Shuiyi saw this scene in the rearview mirror and began frantically honking the horn.

Frowning, Qu Ange got out of the car. Suddenly, Qiu Shuiyi also stepped out and walked over to her, asking, “Are you really sure? Is she worth it?”

Qu Ange frowned. “You don’t understand her.”

Qiu Shuiyi thought for a moment and said, “No, I don’t. But it seems to me her mental state isn’t great.”

At this time, conditions like depression and bipolar disorder hadn’t received as much public awareness as they would later, but people in the arts, being a high-risk group, were already quite sensitive to such issues. Qu Ange immediately understood what Qiu Shuiyi was implying and grew anxious. “Really? Is it that serious?”

Qiu Shuiyi rolled her eyes. “How would I know? I’m not a professional. But… it probably isn’t too severe. She can eat and sleep fine. I remember a friend of mine who got sick and stopped eating, losing twenty pounds in a month.”

Seeing that Qiu Shuiyi clearly didn’t understand, Qu Ange didn’t press further and simply said, “If anything happens, let me know. I’ll come back immediately.”

Qiu Shuiyi’s gaze turned somewhat admiring. “I can’t believe you’re willing to go this far for her.”

Qu Ange shook her head. “You don’t understand our story.”

If there was such a thing as karma in this world, then this was what she owed Xu Mi.

A debt carried over from her past life.

She let out a long sigh and finally said to Qiu Shuiyi, “…Keep an eye on Lin Wanzhao. Make sure she stays away from Xu Mi.”

…

Qu Ange joined the film crew early the next morning.

Before arriving, she sent Xu Mi her location on WeChat along with a selfie from that day. As usual, Xu Mi didn’t reply, but Qu Ange no longer felt the same anxiety she had during the script read-through days earlier. She had already asked Xu Mi, and Xu Mi had told her—she still loved her.

That alone made her feel she wasn’t alone.

After joining the crew, filming didn’t start right away. There were costume fittings, changes, and introductions to the team. Qu Ange was no novice; she knew exactly how to pass the time and build rapport on set. By the afternoon, she understood why Wang Jia had asked her to join the crew so quickly—it had to do with an actress named Qin Peiyao.

The name sounded familiar, and when someone pointed her out from a distance, Qu Ange recognized her as the actress originally cast for the role of Consort Rong. Now, Qin Peiyao was playing a princess from a foreign land. Her screen time was naturally less than Qu Ange’s Consort Rong, but at a glance, it seemed similar to the original Consort Rong’s storyline from her past life.

Rumor had it that Qin Peiyao had connections and had joined the crew with financial backing. She had initially been cast as Consort Rong, so when her role was replaced, she was deeply dissatisfied and directed her resentment toward Qu Ange.

If it were before, Qu Ange might have felt a bit guilty for taking someone else’s role. But after learning the backstory, she pieced everything together. In her past life, Consort Rong’s screen time had likely been reduced because Qin Peiyao’s presence, backed by money, had caused friction, and her acting probably wasn’t up to par, leading to her scenes being cut significantly.

What a pity for such a great role.

The other party arrived in the afternoon. By around three or four o’clock, she probably became aware of Qu Ange’s presence and started asking around about her whereabouts. Qu Ange didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot on her first day in the crew, so she found a quiet corner to hide and read her script. Unexpectedly, during mealtime, the other party still managed to track her down. She suddenly walked over, stepped right over Qu Ange’s lunchbox, and then casually remarked, “Oh my, who’s eating here?”

The lunchbox was instantly contaminated with dust from who knows where. Qu Ange remained calm, held up the lunchbox to the light, frowned, and said, “Tsk, can’t eat this now. Wonder where this filth came from.”

The other party’s face immediately darkened. “Who are you insulting?”

Qu Ange replied, “I said there’s filth in the lunchbox. Why are you taking it personally?”

Qin Peiyao’s face flushed red with anger. Her original intention was to provoke Qu Ange into losing her temper. If Qu Ange caused a scene on her first day, it would surely leave a bad impression on everyone. But after just a few exchanges, it seemed like she was the one getting angrier.

The reaction wasn’t what she had expected, and she was momentarily at a loss for a retort. She walked away to collect her thoughts, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became—frustrated that she hadn’t fired back on the spot.

She held onto that resentment until the third day. On this day, Qu Ange was finally scheduled for a key scene, having previously only appeared as part of the background. Qin Peiyao, on the other hand, had her scenes shot earlier and had already filmed several close-ups over the past two days. As she passed by Qu Ange, she couldn’t resist taking a jab: “Finally got a scene, huh?”

Qu Ange smiled and said, “Your scenes were shot earlier. Mine will probably be later, so I’ll likely be leaving the crew much later than you.”

This was a dig at Qin Peiyao for having fewer scenes and finishing early.

This time, however, Qin Peiyao didn’t get angry. After days of contemplation, she had figured out the best way to retaliate. Feigning calmness, she said, “Well, you are older, after all. You’re more articulate and quicker to react than I am. Sometimes I don’t even understand what you’re saying.”

In the entertainment industry, where youth is highly prized, age is undoubtedly the most potent weapon.

Qin Peiyao had checked Qu Ange’s age and knew she was four years older. Frankly, this was one of the reasons she looked down on Qu Ange. At that age, without any notable roles to her name, Qu Ange basically had no future in this industry.

Hearing this, Qu Ange was momentarily speechless because it was the truth. She had always known that, having entered the industry later in life, she was considered old by entertainment standards. People loved to see young prodigies make a stunning debut. At her age, no one cared about her circumstances. They naturally looked down on her.

She used to brood over this, wondering if things would have been easier if she hadn’t come from an ordinary family, if her parents had planned her path from a young age. But in the end, she had achieved success at an age when everyone thought it was impossible.

So, she had long since made peace with it. Nothing resolves inner conflicts more effectively than tangible success.

She smiled and said, “Seems like you’re really getting into your role, little sister.”

Qin Peiyao snorted triumphantly. In her eyes, Qu Ange’s remark lacked any bite—it was nothing but an admission of defeat.

She knew that winning petty verbal battles was pointless, but Shen Xinlong ran the set strictly and forbade any underhanded tricks, so she didn’t dare cross that line. Still, she thought, making the other person feel uncomfortable with words was better than nothing.

Maybe it could even affect her performance later.

With that thought, she found a spot with a good view to secretly watch Qu Ange’s performance. This scene was from later in the story, where Consort Rong feigned illness and sent someone to summon the emperor, only to find out he hadn’t come—he had gone to the newly favored Consort Zhong’s palace instead, as she had also claimed to be ill.

The script described Consort Rong as having hollow eyes, slowly shedding tears while murmuring to the air, “Beauty fades, and with it, love wanes. This has been true since ancient times.”

When Qin Peiyao had imagined herself playing Consort Rong, she had thought about how to perform this scene. She would need to convey deep sorrow, so she had planned to recall something sad to immerse herself in the emotion.

She stared at Qu Ange. Before filming began, Qu Ange sat quietly on the couch, tidied her appearance, then gazed at the sky with her hands clasped, murmuring something inaudible.

But in that instant, her demeanor seemed to transform entirely. The sharp-tongued, carefree Qu Ange who had mocked her on the steps was gone, replaced by a middle-aged woman who, though still beautiful, was steeped in affectation and pretense.

Qu Ange had carefully considered Consort Rong’s character and realized that, in this world, she might be the most suitable person to play the role. Consort Rong had been a stunning beauty in her youth, but in middle age, though still attractive, she began to feel the panic of aging. Younger actors might not grasp the fear of growing old, while older ones might struggle to portray the radiant, arrogant Consort Rong from her early days in the palace.

But Qu Ange possessed both qualities perfectly.

No one understood the anxiety of aging better than a late-blooming actress like her.

Clasping her hands in prayer, she imagined Consort Rong’s inner thoughts—at this moment, she must have been praying to the heavens not to let her grow old too quickly.

This scene hadn’t yet reached its climax; it was only the first disappointment. Qu Ange leaned against the windowsill, resting her cheek on her hand, and a single tear slowly fell from her right eye, close to the camera. She quickly wiped it away with a handkerchief, careful not to let the tears harm her skin. Then she widened her eyes to hold back further tears, leaving her eyes red and bloodshot.

After finishing the scene, she stood up and looked at the director. The director hesitated for a long moment before saying, “Technically, this is your first scene, so I should let you get used to it…”

He couldn’t help but smile. “But it seems there’s nothing to get used to.”

Qu Ange replied shyly, “I’m fine with whatever. We can shoot it again if needed.”

But they didn’t reshoot it and quickly moved on to the next scene.

Normally, Qu Ange rarely made mistakes during filming. If a scene had to be reshot, it was usually due to issues with props or extras.

Qin Peiyao couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

In a daze, she headed back to the hotel. Her assistant caught up with her halfway, panting, “Why did you leave so suddenly without saying anything?”

Qin Peiyao muttered to herself, “How could she be like this…”

The assistant: “…”

Qin Peiyao waved her hand dismissively and continued walking.

Only one thought filled her mind—

How could the person competing with her for the role be someone like this?

Someone who made it impossible to even think of resisting.

…

Qu Ange had no idea what had just happened.

She only knew that after that day, Qin Peiyao stopped coming to cause her trouble.

So, she finally wrote about this incident in a WeChat message to Xu Mi, saying—

[…Speaking of which, something happened a few days ago that I was too embarrassed to mention. It turns out this role of mine originally belonged to someone else, and that person held a grudge against me because of it. Though they didn’t dare do anything serious, they kept making snide remarks…]

[…But if they really tried anything, I definitely wouldn’t let them have their way. You know how cautious I am. I can see right through their little schemes…]

[…Lately though, they haven’t been bothering me. I wonder if they’ve had a change of heart…]

After sending the message and seeing that Xu Mi didn’t reply, Qu Ange switched back to Weibo and posted on her alternate account—”Day 10 without seeing my wife, missing her.”

Perhaps because her words were too sentimental, this Weibo post actually garnered quite a few comments. Someone commented below—

“So touching. I wish my husband were like you.”

Someone else said—

“Are you a robot? Are you even human?”

Qu Ange then browsed Xu Mi’s Weibo again.

Xu Mi’s Weibo was now the only way to catch a glimpse of her.

Although only her hands appeared in the videos, even that was enough to offer some comfort. What’s more, there were plenty of delicious dishes featured. Xu Mi updated frequently, posting a new video almost every other day. The previous one was steamed pork with rice flour, and the one before that was garlic vermicelli prawns. Today, she had posted again. Qu Ange clicked on it and froze.

It wasn’t the usual video showing only her hands. This time, the video began with Xu Mi sitting on a reef, her back to the camera. The sky was overcast, the sea and sky both a leaden gray, as if a storm was brewing. Waves with white foam crashed against the reef. In the entire scene, Xu Mi was the only living presence. The frame felt somber and quiet, yet her hair danced wildly in the sea breeze, and the waves were powerful and majestic, revealing a vibrant energy within the melancholy.

It was a beautiful, philosophical image.

Clearly different from her previous style.

After this scene faded, a black screen with white text appeared, presented in the style of an old film, reading—

“July 2012, Overcast”

“A storm is coming”

The ten-minute short film, aside from close-ups of cooking, featured Xu Mi’s back in panoramic shots.

Xu Mi went to the market to buy groceries, collected seashells by the shore, and knocked barnacles off the reef. There was no dialogue, only the sounds of the wind, the waves, and occasional background music, reminiscent of a Charlie Chaplin silent film.

Watching it left one with a sense of melancholy, yet also a moving feeling of being alive.

It was incredible. This couldn’t possibly have been edited by Tan Zhenzhen.

Qu Ange clenched her fists, her heart struck by another realization.

She had never imagined that Xu Mi would one day be willing to appear on camera—even if it was just her back.