Never Forget - Chapter 9

Only after the clapperboard snapped shut did Ye Zhuyi turn and adjust her posture. She slowly raised her eyes. Lu Buping finally understood. Ye Zhuyi wasn’t unprepared. She had simply been using her calm exterior to suppress the emotions she was building up.

On screen, Ye Zhuyi’s forearm rested on the staircase railing. Her hips were pushed back, her stance seductive and alluring, yet she radiated an air of profound boredom, as if everything in the world had lost its flavor.

Her beautiful fingers tapped the railing in time with the music from the orchestra below, moving to the beat.

Ye Zhuyi lifted her eyelids slightly, her beautiful eyes scanning the diverse crowd in the ballroom below. Disgust, contempt, and irritation flickered in her gaze.

Everything in this ballroom was something she once looked down upon with utter disdain.

Her gaze finally landed on Qin Zhizhen. Ye Zhuyi curled her lips into a smile. “How should I seduce him? Should I ask him to order a few more bottles of fine wine? Dance with me a few more times? Or should I make him only look for me whenever he enters this ballroom from now on?”

Her voice was light, as if she were too lazy to even put effort into speaking.

As she delivered the lines, her fingers stopped moving. They suddenly clenched and then slumped open. Her slender shoulders dropped, and her eyes went empty, though the faint smile remained on her lips.

These simple movements, combined with the lines, made it seem as if a soul beneath her skin had struggled violently twice before finally succumbing to reality.

Her eyes, though seemingly calm, held an endless, suppressed sorrow. A mocking smile touched her lips, ridiculing both this own worldly life and her own fate.

In truth, she was no different. She had to do things she despised, drifting through the neon lights and nightlife every day just to make a living. She had to smile, sway her hips, and read people’s moods to please them.

After that line, Qin Zhizhen looked up at her. They were separated by a distance, and the dance hall was crowded with people and brilliant lights. Their eyes met, but neither could see the other clearly.

On screen, Qin Zhizhen wore a playful, cynical smile, but her gaze was deep and sharp. She was scrutinizing Ye Zhuyi, the index finger of the hand resting on her chin rubbing its thumb as she lost in thought.

Ye Zhuyi walked down the stairs with a graceful, swaying gait.

At the bottom of the stairs, she overheard the dance girls whispering, “Follow Yin Xingmang and you’ll never have to worry about the rest of your life. Too bad she’s so cold.” Ye Zhuyi narrowed her eyes, raised a hand to smooth her hair, and walked slowly toward Qin Zhizhen’s table.

As she drew closer, Ye Zhuyi finally saw Qin Zhizhen’s expression. The corners of her lips were curved into a half-smile, but there was no warmth in her eyes. With her chin slightly tilted up, she sat there, yet her casual glance still gave off an air of superiority.

Ye Zhuyi flashed a charming, seductive smile. “I heard Mr. Yin bought my time for tonight. Manqing would like to thank Mr. Yin for such generous support.”

She leaned forward, about to sit beside Qin Zhizhen, but Qin Zhizhen suddenly spoke. “Sit across from me.”

Ye Zhuyi froze.

The audition set only had this one sofa. The space across from it was completely empty. Sit across from her… on the floor?

Her mind raced. Lu Buping had said this audition was a test of improvisational acting, and the key was whether she could react to Qin Zhizhen’s cues.

“Who comes to a ballroom just to stare at a dancer from across the room? If Mr. Yin doesn’t like me sitting too close,” Ye Zhuyi kept her smile, arching her back as she settled on the other end of the sofa, creating a little distance between them. She asked softly, “Can I sit a bit further away?”

It sounded like a request, but she had already sat down. Was Qin Zhizhen really going to drag her up and throw her across the room? Qin Zhizhen’s brow furrowed, then quickly relaxed. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, silently accepting the arrangement.

Ye Zhuyi pulled the menu from under the glass table and asked, “Would Mr. Yin like a drink?” Her pale, slender fingers pushed the menu toward Qin Zhizhen as she leaned forward, as if to explain the items on it.

Ye Zhuyi imperceptibly closed the distance between them again.

Qin Zhizhen glanced up, clearly noticing the change. Her eyes flickered to the collarbone peeking from Ye Zhuyi’s neckline before she leaned back, her interest fading. “I don’t want anything to drink.”

“How about dessert? We have a new pastry chef whose skills are—”

“No need.”

Ye Zhuyi released the menu and leaned forward, resting her weight on the sofa as she pressed closer to Qin Zhizhen. Her seductive gaze locked onto the other woman, her breath sweet as orchids. “If you don’t want to eat or drink, then let’s just chat. What are your hobbies, Mr. Yin?”

The two of them were locked in a silent tug-of-war, each trying to control the distance between them.

The smile on Qin Zhizhen’s lips deepened. She reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a dance ticket, holding it horizontally between them to block Ye Zhuyi’s view.

Below the ticket, Ye Zhuyi’s red lips curved into a smile. She reached out, her hand as soft as boneless, and slowly traced her fingers over Qin Zhizhen’s.

Their hands overlapped, the cool and delicate touch transmitting through their palms.

Ye Zhuyi’s eyelashes fluttered. She desperately wanted to grab the hand and hold it tight, but she knew she couldn’t. She closed her eyes, forcing the longing down.

Off-camera, Lu Buping straightened her back and narrowed her eyes. Qin Zhizhen had used the dance ticket to cover Mu Wangning’s eyes before, but Lu Buping wasn’t satisfied with that performance. Mu Wangning had only shown surprise, whereas Ye Zhuyi’s subtle struggle was perfectly executed. Shen Manqing truly needed money to work as a dancer, so seeing so many dance tickets would naturally be a surprise and something she’d want. But her innate pride as a young lady remained, and her internal struggle should have far outweighed her surprise.

Ye Zhuyi’s hand rested on Qin Zhizhen’s, her fingertips gripping the dance ticket. Her red lips parted as she asked in a soft, smiling voice, “Do you want to dance, Mr. Yin?”

The warmth of his palm enveloped her hand, and the sensation of his fingertips brushing against her was incredibly clear.

Qin Zhizhen’s deep gaze swept over Ye Zhuyi’s slightly parted red lips. He decisively pulled back the dance ticket. “As long as you behave and sit quietly here without trying to seduce me, this entire book of dance tickets is yours.”

He carelessly tossed the thick book of dance tickets onto the table.

With the obstruction gone from her view, Ye Zhuyi saw that Qin Zhizhen was now frowning, his thin lips pressed into a straight line. The smile had vanished without a trace, and he looked as if he were suppressing his temper, utterly impatient.

Qin Zhizhen uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to reach for the cigarettes on the coffee table.

No need to chat, no need to dance. Just sit here and earn dance tickets that can be exchanged for cash. It’s so easy. So many dancers would kill for this opportunity.

Yet Ye Zhuyi’s expression darkened. She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to the dancers who failed their missions.

Her hand dropped limply. She glanced at Qin Zhizhen again, still unable to believe her luck.

They were close now. Ye Zhuyi remained leaned forward. Qin Zhizhen put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it. After setting down the lighter, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Ye Zhuyi’s gaze fixed on the small, exposed ear. Disbelief, confusion, and uncertainty swirled in her eyes. Her hand tightened on her lap as she sat up straight.

The distance between them widened again. Qin Zhizhen rested her elbows on her thighs, leaning forward with the cigarette held between two fingers over the ashtray, tapping out a bit of ash.

Ye Zhuyi stared at the hand holding the cigarette, took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “Mr. Yin, may I have a cigarette?”

“Help yourself.” Qin Zhizhen’s voice softened, perhaps thinking Ye Zhuyi had finally settled down.

As Ye Zhuyi leaned forward to take a cigarette, Qin Zhizhen straightened up and leaned back against the sofa.

No matter what, she just didn’t want to get close.

Ye Zhuyi took the cigarette but didn’t put it in her mouth or light it. She simply held it between two fingers, mirroring Qin Zhizhen’s exact posture.

Raising her hand, she turned her head to face Qin Zhizhen. “I heard someone say you can tell a person’s gender by the way they hold a cigarette.”

Qin Zhizhen exhaled a cloud of smoke, her expression almost completely obscured by the haze. She let out a cold laugh. “Nonsense.”

“True,” Ye Zhuyi smiled. “But Mr. Yin’s reaction is quite unique. It’s my first time seeing someone deny something so quickly and so certain it’s false.”

A faint smile played on Qin Zhizhen’s lips, but her eyes remained as calm as the surface of a hidden undercurrent. Her voice was ice-cold. “Miss Shen, you clearly haven’t met enough people.”

“This ballroom gets a lot of foot traffic every day,” Ye Zhuyi said, rolling the unlit cigarette in her fingers. “People come here either to dance or to hire a dancer for company. Naturally, I’ve encountered the kind who aren’t interested. There are usually three types of people like that. Do you know which three, Mr. Yin?”

In the camera’s frame, Qin Zhizhen held a cigarette in her mouth. The faint smile she wore seemed to be held back only by the cigarette, and her dark eyes pierced through the smoke, pinning Ye Zhuyi in place as if trying to peel back her skin and see what she was really up to.

An invisible pressure weighed down on Ye Zhuyi. At this distance, she was completely exposed, crushed by Qin Zhizhen’s intense gaze.

This isn’t good…

When no answer came, Ye Zhuyi continued on her own. “The first type of person isn’t interested in women. They’re only interested in their own gender.” Ye Zhuyi set her own cigarette down and leaned in closer to Qin Zhizhen. “The second type isn’t interested in women because they are women themselves.”

Ye Zhuyi reached out and pinched the cigarette between Qin Zhizhen’s thin lips. Almost instantly, Qin Zhizhen seized her wrist.

“And the third type,” Ye Zhuyi said, leaning in close to Qin Zhizhen’s ear, her voice a low, intimate whisper like lovers sharing a secret, “is someone on a mission, their mind elsewhere. Mr. Yin, or should I call you—Miss Yin?”

Qin Zhizhen’s back went rigid. The hand gripping Ye Zhuyi’s wrist tightened so hard that the veins on the back of her hand stood out in sharp relief. Ye Zhuyi’s fingers trembled as she was slowly dragged down and pinned to the side.

The cigarette held between Ye Zhuyi’s fingers glowed and faded.

Ash fell to the floor, and a wisp of smoke curled in the air.

Qin Zhizhen’s other hand was wrapped around Ye Zhuyi’s neck. She wasn’t squeezing at all. Instead, her fingertips traced the soft, smooth skin with an extreme gentleness and intimacy.

In the mirror, the atmosphere between them was intensely ambiguous. They looked as if they were embracing, with Ye Zhuyi almost leaning into Qin Zhizhen’s arms.

The cool fingers stroked her neck over and over again.

A smile spread across Qin Zhizhen’s exquisite, picture-perfect face.

She was smiling, yet in that instant, Ye Zhuyi felt as if she were standing in a frozen wasteland. The bone-chilling cold radiating from Qin Zhizhen enveloped her completely, making her entire body tremble from her shoulders to her back.

Ye Zhuyi pressed her hands against the sofa, trying to push herself back, to get away from the danger, to escape.

But it was too late. The hand on her neck suddenly tightened, and before she could react, Qin Zhizhen pressed her body against hers.

Support