Never Forget - Chapter 10

In the blink of an eye, murderous intent flooded the once intimate atmosphere. According to the plot’s progression, this turn of events was inevitable.

Yet, even when expected, the actual moment still caught her off guard.

For a split second, as Ye Zhuyi looked into Qin Zhizhen’s obsidian eyes and saw the overflowing violence and ruthlessness, she felt a genuine threat to her life.

Almost instinctively, Ye Zhuyi used her pinned-down hand to grab the one strangling her. She struggled to pry it loose, but the hand was locked firmly around her throat, like an iron clamp.

Within a second, Ye Zhuyi forced herself to calm down. She realized Qin Zhizhen wasn’t actually using much strength. The curve of her fingers and the tension in her hand showed she was carefully controlling her grip.

Giving her a taste of her own medicine, just as Ye Zhuyi had done to her before, Qin Zhizhen leaned in. She tilted her head and pressed it against Ye Zhuyi’s ear, asking in a soft, lingering tone, “Who are you? Who sent you?”

Her voice was as cold as a winter’s night.

The camera clearly captured Qin Zhizhen’s thumb slipping slightly. From that angle, her fingers seemed to tighten just a little more.

If I say one wrong word, she’ll kill me!

Ye Zhuyi stopped her useless struggling. Yet, as if refusing to let go, she gripped Qin Zhizhen’s hand tightly.

Her frail shoulders trembled even more violently as Qin Zhizhen questioned her. Her brow furrowed deeper, and her face grew even paler.

When the words fell, she tensed her shoulders and stiffened her back, desperately suppressing her emotions. To Lu Buping and the others watching outside the camera, it looked like she was fighting back instinctive fear.

Qin Zhizhen glanced at Ye Zhuyi’s ears, which were slowly flushing red, and felt a slight stir in her heart.

Warm breath brushed against her ear, one breath at a time. A single line of dialogue, lasting barely two seconds, yet Ye Zhuyi felt as if she had endured an entire century. She closed her eyes, forcing down the turbulent emotions surging within her.

“Is this Mr. Yin’s first time at Jinli? I’ve been a dancer here for over a year. Dancers naturally obey the Daban, the Daban obey the Boss, and as for those above them, how could people like us ever meet them?” Ye Zhuyi slowly opened her eyes. The panic, fear, and unease had vanished from her gaze, replaced by a lazy, seductive charm. She uncurled her clenched fingers one by one, surrendering.

She was clearly signaling, Go ahead and kill me if you want.

Her words were laced with mockery. Qin Zhizhen loosened her grip but didn’t let go, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized Ye Zhuyi.

Unlike their first encounter, this was a direct, close-up confrontation. They were so close that a single push from behind would have sent them into a kiss. To an outsider, the scene might have looked like simmering romance, but in reality, it was a tense standoff, a fragile balance where the slightest move could trigger a disaster.

One woman had a deep, calculating gaze, hiding her own secrets while seeing through everyone else. The other seemed utterly open, as if she cared for nothing and had nothing to lose, even her own life.

As they locked eyes, a faint smile touched Ye Zhuyi’s lips. “It’s funny, really,” she said softly. “Daban told me to seduce you.” She raised a hand and gently pinched Qin Zhizhen’s earlobe. “Who knew you were actually a woman?”

Qin Zhizhen’s eyes flashed with fury. She tightened her grip on Ye Zhuyi’s throat and shoved her away, each word grinding through her teeth. “You. Are. Dead.”

She hadn’t intended to kill her, but she had used real force. The pain was sharp, and a sudden numbness spread from Ye Zhuyi’s neck upward. She frowned, then grabbed Qin Zhizhen’s hand, her nails digging into the back of her. The smile on her face only widened, deepening her dimples. “I want to live. I want to live a good life. So, Mr. Yin, how about we make a deal?”

She managed to force the words out, her voice halting and strained.

Silence stretched between them again. After a moment, Qin Zhizhen released her grip on Ye Zhuyi. Ye Zhuyi’s chest heaved as she gasped for air, still trembling from the shock.

Having already confessed, she had now clearly stated her terms. Qin Zhizhen leaned back against the sofa and crossed one leg over the other, resting her ankle on her knee. Her eyes were downcast, her expression unreadable as she slowly smoothed the cuff of her sleeve. “What kind of deal?”

Ye Zhuyi’s heart pounded. She had a lot of lines to memorize, and it wasn’t easy to get them all right in such a short time, but this next line was the one she remembered most clearly. “Mr. Yin, you’re reacting so strongly because you don’t want to reveal your identity, aren’t you? I can help you, as long as…” She paused, taking a deep breath. She wrapped her right arm around her left, holding herself in a half-hug. The fingers of her left hand, still clutching the cigarette, trembled, and a long ash fell to the floor.

When she spoke again, her voice was so soft it trailed off. “Marry me, and I’ll cover for you.”

It was unexpected, yet not surprising. Most dance hall girls were driven into this life by the lash of poverty, forced into the trade by necessity. Aside from those who had long since given up, every single one of them loathed the endless cycle of being touched and held. They all dreamed of escaping this pit of fire, and the best way out was to marry into a good family. But what kind of respectable family would ever come to a place like this?

Now, she had met someone who dressed as a man. This person might have a hidden identity, and marrying her could put Ye Zhuyi in even greater danger. But the dance hall wasn’t safe either. At least this way, she’d be free from the risk of being raped.

Qin Zhizhen’s hand paused. Her fingers brushed against her cuff as she raised an eyebrow. Her gaze was heavy but less menacing than before, lost in thought.

Ye Zhuyi seized the opportunity. “I just want to leave this place and find a decent life. I won’t ask questions about what you do. I just need enough money to live on.”

She stated plainly that she was only after money and status. But Qin Zhizhen’s suspicions weren’t so easily dispelled. Her gaze drifted to the red marks on Ye Zhuyi’s neck, where she had been choked.

Her gaze was void of emotion. Ye Zhuyi felt an invisible, icy snake coil around her neck, tightening slowly until a chill seeped into her bones and goosebumps prickled her skin. She forced her body upright, her hand gripping her own arm so hard her knuckles turned white.

Qin Zhizhen withdrew her gaze. She rose and smoothed out her lapels and hem before speaking calmly, “I’ll be here for the next month. As for what you asked—” She turned to Ye Zhuyi with a smile that was both reckless and threatening. “It depends on your performance.”

Without another word, she walked away without looking back.

The scene was technically over. The producer and assistant director both turned to Lu Buping, waiting for her to call “Cut.” But Lu Buping remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the monitor. Just as the assistant director was about to speak, Zhou Wen pulled his sleeve. “It’s not over yet.”

On screen, Ye Zhuyi sat frozen for a moment, as if only then realizing the game was up. Her hand dropped limply, and her tense shoulders slumped. In an instant, she seemed to collapse under the weight of an invisible burden, completely drained of strength.

Ye Zhuyi’s hand, still holding the cigarette, curled slightly. She lifted it with a tremor so strong she had to use her other hand to steady it. Then, she took a deep drag from the burning cigarette.

The smoke curled around her, half-obscuring her face. In the haze, her expression seemed to hover between a smile and a sob.

Only then did Lu Buping call “Cut!”

Ye Zhuyi let out a breath of relief. This was the most exhausting scene she had ever filmed. She looked down at the cigarette in her hand and ran her tongue over her teeth.

This is the one Zhenzhen was just smoking…

“You can put the cigarette out now,” Qin Zhizhen said, stepping forward from the side.

Ye Zhuyi snapped back to reality. She stood up and replied, “Oh, right.”

Though she answered readily, she didn’t move. She stared down at the cigarette, her lips pressed together, torn by the urge to take one last drag.

Qin Zhizhen misinterpreted her expression, thinking she was struggling with a nicotine craving. He glanced at the cigarette, which was nearly burned down to the filter. It was the same one she had been smoking earlier.

Is she so desperate for a fix that she won’t even light a new one?

He was about to tell her to take another puff when Ye Zhuyi abruptly leaned down and crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.

“…” She’s quite determined to quit.

It was a sweltering summer day, and they were wearing two layers for the scene. Even with the air conditioning on, the heat was stifling. Qin Zhizhen took off her jacket and draped it over her arm. She tugged at the collar of her shirt, her gaze falling on Ye Zhuyi’s neck.

Ye Zhuyi’s skin was pale, making the five red finger marks look alarmingly vivid.

Qin Zhizhen walked over to a case of bottled water in the corner and took one out. “Does your neck or throat feel uncomfortable anywhere? I’m sorry. I used a bit too much force for the sake of the scene.”

Ye Zhuyi quickly shook her head. “No, no, it feels quite comfortable.” She paused, realizing how strange that sounded. Clearing her throat, she tried again, “Um… I mean, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.”

The seductive, clever persona she had played during the scene vanished completely. Ye Zhuyi covered her face and sighed softly.

When Qin Zhizhen turned around, she saw Ye Zhuyi’s frustrated expression. Recalling the awkward response, she couldn’t help but smile and handed her the water. “Drink some water to soothe your throat.”

“Thank you, Teacher Qin,” Ye Zhuyi said, taking the bottle. She shifted her grip to where Qin Zhizhen had just touched it, feeling the lingering warmth on the plastic.

Her gaze fixed on the nail marks she had left on Qin Zhizhen’s hand. “I’m sorry, um…” She pointed to the marks.

Qin Zhizhen followed her gaze and looked down. “It’s a normal reaction,” she said quickly. “Don’t let it get to you.” She rolled up her sleeve to reveal similar scratches on her own arm. “Other people do it too.”

Clearly, this wasn’t very comforting for Ye Zhuyi. She stared at the marks, her heart aching and her chest feeling tight. She looked away, only to see Lu Buping walking toward them.

Lu Buping said to Ye Zhuyi, “We need to discuss the audition results, which will take about half an hour. Just like the last round, you can stay if you want to wait. If you have things to do, you can leave now. We’ll call you tonight regardless of the outcome.”

Ye Zhuyi nodded, then thanked everyone with a slight bow before leaving the audition room. She first went to the parking lot to tell Ke Shu they’d have to wait another half hour. Then she got her phone and the prepared album from Xiao Qiao, contacted Lian Rong, and handed the album to her before finally heading to the lounge.

Jin Yue was the only one left in the waiting room. Sui Xuan and Mu Wangning must have been busy or simply unwilling to wait around after their auditions.

After a moment of silence, Jin Yue couldn’t help but speak. “Stop waiting here. Your fate is already sealed. An investor would never hire an actress with no connections or reputation.”

Ye Zhuyi, who had been playing with her phone, glanced at her. “Did you know that President Ma of Guteng Group just had twin babies?”

Jin Yue’s expression stiffened. “What does his wife having twins have to do with me?”

“Then why should I be waiting here for Senior Guan?” Ye Zhuyi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile gentle but her tone cold. “Jin Yue, stop messing with me. Haven’t you heard the saying? The one with nothing to lose is the most dangerous.”

Jin Yue had done a lot to get to where she was now. She had a past with President Ma, and while she didn’t know how much Ye Zhuyi knew, she refused to be intimidated. Forcing herself to stay calm, she sneered, “What could you possibly have on me? Who are you trying to scare?”

“You’re welcome to find out,” Ye Zhuyi replied, her eyes crinkling as a dimple appeared on her cheek.

For the next fifteen minutes, Jin Yue remained silent. Then, the assistant director came in and called her away.

Left alone in the waiting room, Ye Zhuyi couldn’t stop her heart from racing. Jin Yue was right. She had nothing now. No followers, no standout roles, no industry connections.

She might be able to compete with Jin Yue and Sui Xuan, but Mu Wangning was a different story. Mu Wangning was exceptional in every way, both naturally and through hard work. With her current skills, trying to compete with Mu Wangning seemed like a lost cause.

Why would Mu Wangning even come for this role?

Lost in her thoughts, Ye Zhuyi was interrupted by the Assistant Director. “Your results are out. Let’s go.”

Ye Zhuyi nodded and followed him back into the audition room.

The props, including the table and sofa, had been cleared away. Most of the crew were gone, leaving only the Producer, Lu Buping, and Zhou Wen. Ye Zhuyi felt a pang of disappointment when she didn’t see Qin Zhizhen, but also a flicker of relief. If I didn’t make it, at least I won’t have to face her, she thought.

But she quickly realized she was wrong.

The three of them stared at her with grim faces and pitying eyes.

Ye Zhuyi’s heart sank. Her intuition told her this was bad.

For a moment, she felt the same suffocating sensation she’d experienced long ago, right before death.

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