Shadowed Love: A Lover Who Refuses to Let Go - Chapter 44

Yin Yunzhu knew Jiang Menghe had misunderstood, but it wasn’t within her power to explain much more. Seeing Bai Jiali look up, ready to drive, Yin knew that with her friend’s fiery temper, any encounter between the two would inevitably lead to a confrontation.

She rolled up the car window, and that lingering gaze was finally cut off by a thin layer of glass.

Bai Jiali stepped on the gas, and the car moved slowly away from the hall. A light, upbeat melody echoed in the cabin, and she swayed gently to the rhythm.

“How was the audition? Did you veto Jiang Menghe on the spot and trash her acting until it was worthless?” Bai Jiali had quite the imagination, even making a downward striking motion with one hand.

Yin Yunzhu clutched the bag on her lap. The little bunny pendant on it swayed with the bumps in the road; it was a birthday gift Yin Xuan had saved up to buy her.

“My words don’t really count,” she murmured.

Hearing this, Bai Jiali felt regretful. “If I’d known, I should have rushed in there and given her a piece of my mind. That way, the whole directing team would know Jiang Menghe is a heartless scumbag.”

“Actually, it wasn’t all her fault. I was the one who pushed too far…” Yin Yunzhu touched her index fingers together, whispering to herself.

“No way!” Bai Jiali’s eyes widened. “You’re still looking for excuses for her even now? Where is your spine?”

Yin Yunzhu had always been soft-hearted, especially after meeting Jiang Menghe; she had been almost entirely compliant. During many nights spent tossing and turning, she wondered what exactly she had done wrong.

Had she initially seemed too indifferent to the relationship, sparking a desire for revenge or a need for conquest in the other woman? And once she was completely devoted, had she simply been kicked aside?

If she had been tough and brave enough, she should have demanded a formal status and gone public the moment she embraced Jiang Menghe. Instead, she was like this: standing at the edge of a cliff, backing up over and over until there was nowhere left to go but down.

Now, Yin Yunzhu’s emotions were like a barren field; even if nourished by rain to break through the soil again, only hideous and terrifying thorns would grow.

Hearing the person beside her rambling on, she curled her upper body and closed her eyes, her voice thick with a nasal tone. “Please stop talking.”

The person in the driver’s seat actually shut up. Seeing Yin Yunzhu’s exhausted expression, she specifically lowered the music volume.

After a busy afternoon, they reached the vicinity of the Tiancheng Apartments just in time for Bai Jiali to pick up Yin Xuan from school. She thought the company of family might help disperse the gloom in Yin Yunzhu’s heart.

Yin Xuan was like a chirping sparrow. Once she sat in the back, even the car music switched to a childishly happy style.

“Supermarket! Supermarket!” The little girl was incredibly excited, two thick braids hanging over her shoulders—Shan Songyue had braided them carefully this morning, though they were a bit messy after her nap.

Seeing Yin Yunzhu listless, she stood up and poked the back of her sister’s neck. The cold fingertip made the sleeping woman jump and sit bolt upright.

“Sit properly!” Bai Jiali criticized sternly, seeing the mischief through the rearview mirror.

Yin Xuan playfully stuck out her tongue and made a face. “If I weren’t driving right now, I’d make sure you couldn’t laugh.”

“It’s okay, you can’t catch me once we get out of the car anyway.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?”

The two went back and forth, turning the car into a noisy marketplace. Yin Yunzhu already had a headache; now she was rubbing her temples, truly having no time to wallow in sentimentality.

As soon as they got out, Bai Jiali grabbed her keys and caught Yin Xuan by the collar, threatening to “cut off her ears.” The child cried out in fake terror and clung to Yin Yunzhu’s leg, hiding behind her.

Yin Yunzhu sighed helplessly, watching the two bicker as she followed behind.

Her phone vibrated. It was a call from He Ping. She looked at the two walking ahead and moved to a corner to answer.

“Hello,” a muffled voice came through. “Xiao Yin, I want to discuss the casting with you. I sent you a message earlier but didn’t get a reply.”

Yin Yunzhu exited the call screen and indeed saw two or three private messages. She had been drowsy in the car, and the music and Yin Xuan’s noise had completely drowned out her notifications.

“I’m sorry, I was occupied,” she apologized.

“It’s no big deal. It’s like this: I’ve discussed it with Sister Zhao and the assistant director. We feel Jiang Menghe’s performance this afternoon was quite brilliant, and I wanted to ask for your opinion.”

Logically, the original author shouldn’t be consulted on this. Casting power lay with the investors; sometimes even the director had no say. In an era where traffic is king, whoever the capital wants to push will become famous. Zhao Zhenfang favored Jiang Menghe, and even someone as perfectionistic as He Ping had no objections to her.

Asking Yin Yunzhu was merely a formality to make Jiang Menghe’s entry into the crew seem more legitimate.

Yin Yunzhu felt a wave of bitterness. She couldn’t influence the production team’s decision, and she didn’t even have a valid reason to persuade them. She could only swallow it down.

“How about… letting her try another role? There will be auditions for supporting roles in a few days. Maybe someone more suitable will appear then?”

Her suggestion met with a few seconds of silence. Just as Yin Yunzhu was feeling anxious, He Ping spoke.

“We’ll see about the supporting roles later, but you have a point,” the other woman had clearly considered Yin Yunzhu’s suggestion seriously. “How about this: we’ll move her important scenes to the first day of filming. That way, if anything happens, it’ll be easier to swap actors.”

Jiang Menghe had been on the trending searches frequently lately, and her family situation was being dug up and widely discussed. Many rival studios were watching her every move; a single misstep could drag the entire crew down.

“However, this means the pressure on you and Xiao Mi will be much greater.”

The screenwriters would have to sort out the script’s plot points—even if they weren’t in the same scene, they had to ensure a smooth connection. Yin Yunzhu had only studied on-set screenwriting for a few days and was still semi-familiar with it. Without Mi Ying’s guidance, it would be much harder alone.

She had originally prepared for the worst: if Jiang Menghe truly joined the crew against her wishes, she might call in sick for a few days to delay. Yin Yunzhu wasn’t an impulsive person, but as a writer, she was prone to intense emotions. She would inevitably bring personal feelings into her work, which would prevent her from doing it perfectly.

But He Ping’s encouragement left her unable to say the words. If she didn’t go, the entire burden would fall on Mi Ying.

Thinking of this, she gathered her courage. “Director He, actually I—”

“Xiao Yin,” He Ping interrupted, seemingly guessing what she was about to say. “Do you and Jiang Menghe have some sort of history?”

For a split second, Yin Yunzhu thought Jiang Menghe had told her about them just to secure a fair spot for her career. Her heart hammered like a drum. She feigned composure. “Why would you say that?”

“I noticed during the audition this afternoon that you weren’t very fond of her,” He Ping said with a laugh, keeping her tone light and teasing.

Her words were far too tactful. It wasn’t just “not being fond”; it was blatant targeting. Everyone present could see Jiang Menghe’s superb acting, yet she was the only one in disagreement.

“It’s a book I poured my heart into. I just want it to be more perfect,” Yin Yunzhu replied.

He Ping seemed to believe her. “I see. Don’t worry, with Sister Zhao and me here, the box office for this film is guaranteed.” The woman was confident in her own strength without sounding arrogant. A crew needed someone like that to be their anchor. “Alright, then it’s settled on Jiang Menghe. I still hope you’ll be on set once we start filming. You can raise any points you’re unhappy with at any time. After all, no one knows this book better than you.”

These words pinned Yin Yunzhu down; it would be hard not to go. The countless reasons for evasion she had listed were strangled before she could even speak them.

Hanging up and staring at the ten-minute call duration, Yin Yunzhu felt helpless. If there was such a thing as a “cursed fate,” it was the perfect description for her and Jiang Menghe.

The production team finalized the casting quickly. Yin Yunzhu knew she wasn’t an authority in this area, so she didn’t attend the supporting role auditions.

The assistant director was efficient, and with ample funding, they rented the venue and secured most costumes and props within half a month. The filming location remained the familiar Pingcheng Film and Television Center.

After entrusting Xiaoyu to Madam Shan’s care, Yin Yunzhu followed the crew’s flight back. Pingcheng’s temperature was pleasant, unlike Quancheng by the sea; even in spring, the wind there carried a damp chill. Sitting in the car looking at the familiar scenery, Yin Yunzhu was overwhelmed with emotion.

When she was last intimate with Jiang Menghe, kissing her beneath the hotel, could she have imagined they would part forever? A relationship with a beginning but no end is the most lethal. If she had known it would end so miserably, she never would have agreed to Jiang Menghe’s proposal.

The assistant sat in the passenger seat of the van discussing the schedule. “The opening ceremony is the day after tomorrow, then we start work immediately.”

Hearing this, Yin Yunzhu was surprised. “Don’t the actors need time to get familiar with the set?”

Usually, it’s hard to get into character quickly after receiving a script. To ensure the best performance, crews usually give actors a month to get comfortable.

“No need. Aside from Jiang Menghe, almost everyone has worked with Director He before,” the assistant explained, glancing at He Ping who was napping in the back. “A week is enough. We’ve discussed it; we’ll organize set tours and training after the opening ceremony.”

“If you need to, feel free to go out and look for inspiration. You can leave the rest to Mi Ying,” the assistant teased.

Luckily Mi Ying wasn’t in the car, or she would have complained about the increased workload.

Zhao Zhenfang was wealthy; even the sponsored hotel was one of the most sought-after at the film base. It was close to the set, had great conditions, and was near the commercial street.

After getting her key card, Yin Yunzhu dragged her heavy suitcase upstairs. Staff and actors had different accommodations; she was in a twin room. She was assigned to stay with Mi Ying, which was also He Ping’s arrangement. The director thought highly of Yin Yunzhu and wanted an experienced senior to mentor her.

Yin Yunzhu was crouching on the floor unpacking when she heard wheels on the carpet. She looked up to see Mi Ying stumbling in with several large bags.

“Why so much luggage?” She stood up to help.

“We’re staying for several months,” the woman said, looking at Yin Yunzhu’s meager collection of clothes. “That definitely won’t be enough. Besides, the season is about to change; you have to be selective.”

Yin Yunzhu followed her gaze and said embarrassedly, “I’ll go for a walk nearby later.”

Together they stuffed the bags into the wardrobe. Mi Ying shook her aching wrists and sat on the edge of the bed, panting. “I’m exhausted. Did the director say when we’re gathering?”

“Not yet. A lot of people haven’t arrived.” Yin Yunzhu began hanging her clothes, the metal hooks clinking against the rod.

Mi Ying was surprised. “Not arrived? I just saw a luxury trailer downstairs when I came up.”

“Maybe it’s one of the leads,” Yin Yunzhu paused for a second, then answered vaguely.

When it came to the lead roles, she couldn’t think of anyone else. As for Jiang Menghe arriving early, she wasn’t so narcissistic as to think it was for her sake.

“Hey, do you think Jiang Menghe can adapt to the rhythm of our crew?” Mi Ying picked up a bottle of mineral water from the TV cabinet.

Yin Yunzhu poked her head out from the wardrobe door, the soft fluff on top of her head swaying with her movements. “You guys were the ones who chose her. Why are you lacking confidence now?”

“It’s not a lack of confidence; it’s just that every director has a different style,” Mi Ying leaned against the cabinet. “This is the first time Jiang Menghe and He Ping are working together. I’m afraid she won’t be able to keep up with the pace.”

Despite the generous investors, considering the high daily cost of renting the venue, He Ping still hoped that many scenes could be finished in one take. Since this drama was aimed at winning awards, the requirements were naturally more stringent.

“She’ll be able to handle it,” Yin Yunzhu said, lowering her eyes.

Although she had never understood Jiang Menghe deeply, she knew the woman was serious and cautious at work. She handled matters properly and always made people feel at ease.

Mi Ying let out a light snort and joked, “You say that as if you know her very well.”

Yin Yunzhu smiled but said nothing more.

The free half-day they were given upon arriving at the hotel was for everyone to rest. Yin Yunzhu lay on her bed and slept for several hours. When she finally got up, it was already dusk.

The lingering clouds were like irregular tufts of cotton, dyed orange by the magnificent sunset. Pingcheng sat nestled between mountains and water; from the angle of her window, she could see Pingdan Mountain in the distance.

The bed beside hers was clean and tidy; Mi Ying was nowhere to be found. Yin Yunzhu crawled out of her warm blankets, the chill hitting her cheeks with a tingling sensation that helped wake her up. Her spirit was noticeably higher than in the morning, but the emptiness in her stomach left her feeling weak. She put on the jacket draped over the chair and prepared to go to the buffet restaurant downstairs to grab a bite.

She swiped her card and headed straight down. At this hour, the restaurant was sparse, and the speakers on the wall were playing soothing, tender music. Yin Yunzhu went to the counter to order a bowl of shaved noodles. While waiting for her number to be called, she grabbed a cup of hot orange juice.

When she returned with her noodles, she found two people already sitting in the adjacent seats.

Jiang Menghe was listening to the person opposite her ramble on, while she herself scrolled through the latest updates on Weibo. Her expression was calm and easygoing, showing no signs of impatience. However, having seen the other side of this person, Yin Yunzhu knew this was the height of perfunctoriness. During the days when the passion had faded, Jiang had used this exact same expression to stall her.

Back then, she had been immersed in a dreamlike tenderness and hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Only now, in hindsight, did she realize that all the coldness had left a trail.

Yin Yunzhu stood there stiffly, her presence exceptionally noticeable in Jiang’s peripheral vision. Jiang Menghe looked up, her long lashes lifting as she caught Yin Yunzhu’s scrutinizing gaze. Yin Yunzhu quickly looked away and moved to another seat as if nothing had happened.

Even with a wide aisle between them, the awkward distance allowed her to hear their conversation. Rather than staying under the woman’s oppressive presence, it was better to find a quieter spot.

She chose a corner where no one was passing by. Someone had just finished eating there, and the plates hadn’t been cleared yet. The wall was decorated with a complex, sparkling rhinestone Thai-style mural, seemingly blending many religious elements. Yin Yunzhu huddled there. The shaved noodles had grown a bit cold from being moved around, and even the warm orange juice tasted sour.

She ate very slowly, picking up noodles one by one and never biting them off—a pace comparable to a snail. Jiang Menghe used to sit across from her and tease her for eating like a little chick.

She was thinking of her again.

Although the corner seat wasn’t prominent, this angle allowed her to see Jiang Menghe perfectly. The latter only needed to look at the person across from her to naturally catch Yin Yunzhu’s reactions. Currently, those affectionate almond eyes were resting on her, making her feel as though she were sitting on pins and needles.

Yin Yunzhu gritted her teeth, wanting only to escape this den of trouble. The woman’s scrutiny was brazen, as if she wanted everyone to know she was watching.

The young girl sitting opposite Jiang was chatting excitedly, but when she realized Jiang Menghe’s attention wasn’t on her, she couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

“Sister Menghe, what are you looking at?” She tried to follow the gaze, but the woman had already withdrawn it.

“Nothing,” Jiang Menghe said, slowly stirring the hot milk in front of her.

“Then, what do you think about what I just said?” Ai Xue tilted her head, her bright eyes full of expectation.

Regarding the casting for Xia Yue, He Ping had discussed it with everyone and chose Ai Xue over Ren Yu. The reason was simple: as a “chameleon actor,” Ai Xue was more likely to give the audience a sense of immersion. As for Ren Yu, she was too close to Cong Peien and wasn’t easy to work with. However, Ai Xue hadn’t been debuted long and had much to learn in acting. To that end, as soon as the cast was finalized, she had pestered Jiang Menghe to be her mentor.

Her thoughts pulled back, Jiang Menghe smiled. “You have a lot of good ideas.”

The woman was as gentle as warm spring water; being with her was so comfortable one felt like blooming. Ai Xue, who didn’t truly know her, naturally took this as praise.

“Sister Menghe, actually, I’m very happy to be acting with you.” She stared at the dishes in front of her, too shy to look Jiang Menghe in the eye.

Anyone could see her intentions, yet Ai Xue’s behavior was restrained and proper, leaving no room for fault. Even if one wanted to reject her, there was no opportunity to speak.

Jiang Menghe felt an inexplicable irritation, her index finger tapping the table aimlessly, yet she couldn’t be rude to a colleague. Luckily, a message saved her.

“Sorry, a friend is waiting for me outside. Excuse me.” Seeing a familiar name in her chat box, Jiang Menghe stood up and offered an apologetic nod.

“Ah… you’re leaving?” Ai Xue was crestfallen, her grip on her spoon tightening. “Then… then when can I eat with you next time?” Her attitude was earnest; when she looked down, her trembling lashes betrayed her nervousness.

This reaction suddenly struck a chord. Jiang Menghe dazed for a moment, her tone softening. “If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask me on set.”

Leaving those words behind, she left in a hurry.

Ai Xue was left sitting there, poking at the fried dumplings on her plate. As the golden skin broke and the filling spilled out, her movements became more agitated. Seemingly remembering something, the girl turned her head to look behind her. The corner seat was empty. The vibrant mural reflected colorful light under the chandelier. The table had been cleared clean, as if no one had ever been there.

The moment Jiang Menghe moved, Yin Yunzhu happened to put down her chopsticks. She pulled out a tissue to wipe her mouth, preparing to take her empty plate to the recycling station. Seeing the woman not far away get up, she deliberately slowed her pace. She didn’t want to run into Jiang Menghe and get into another verbal battle. Yin Yunzhu was self-aware; verbal sparring was not her strength, so she chose to take a detour to avoid the confrontation.

After washing her hands and walking out of the lobby restaurant, she saw two women standing on the steps at the entrance from a distance. One of them was Jiang Menghe. The bright moonlight fell on the ends of her hair, and her tall frame cast a long shadow at her feet. Her arms were crossed; from the back, her expression was hidden.

The person standing opposite her had a sharp, heroic face and a short, ear-length haircut that gave off an androgynous beauty. Yin Yunzhu felt she had seen this person somewhere before, but she couldn’t recall. She wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but she saw the androgynous woman pull a cigarette from a pack and offer it to Jiang Menghe.

“Want one?”

“No thanks, I’ve quit recently,” Jiang Menghe waved it off. She didn’t actually like the smell of smoke; she just enjoyed the physical discomfort of smoke filling her lungs, as it allowed her to briefly forget the gloom in her chest.

“Fair enough.” Xin Youwei flicked her lighter. When the crimson flame caught the tip of the cigarette, she took a deep drag. “Your dad found me. He was causing trouble at my bar a few days ago.” Her tone was displeased, seemingly feeling that Jiang Menghe wasn’t deserving of being haunted by such a “plaster.”

“It’s fine, it’ll be over soon,” Jiang Menghe’s expression was dark, yet she turned it around to comfort her.

“You really are unlucky. Anyway, let me know if you need anything. Zheng Xinyue is in the middle of a huge fight with her husband; she won’t be able to help anyone for a while.”

Jiang Menghe was beautiful and had a good personality; she had been very popular with girls in high school. Back then, Xin Youwei and Zheng Xinyue were desk-mates and had a decent relationship. It was only after they studied art and went their separate ways that the three grew distant. It was only when the bar opened and Xin Youwei invited them that they reconnected.

Xin Youwei flicked her ash and stepped up one stair to be level with Jiang Menghe. As she turned, she noticed Yin Yunzhu stopping at the door.

With just a brief glance, Yin Yunzhu saw she had been discovered and fled like a startled rabbit. Xin Youwei chuckled, catching Jiang’s attention. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. Just saw a familiar face.” She gestured with her cigarette toward the direction Yin Yunzhu had fled.

Jiang Menghe hesitated, turned to look, and accurately captured her retreating back. She frowned. “You know her?”

“Not really ‘know’,” Xin Youwei shrugged. “I saw her at the bar before. She was drunk, and I gave her a hand.”

It was just a casual remark about how small the world is, but Jiang Menghe froze. “When was this?”

She knew she had failed Yin Yunzhu too deeply, even leaving her covered in wounds. But in Jiang Menghe’s impression, Yin Yunzhu had always been positive and optimistic; the idea of her “drinking her sorrows away” felt completely incongruous.

If it was because of me.

Jiang Menghe’s fingers curled slightly as she remained silent.

Seeing her so concerned about a stranger, Xin Youwei felt curious and thought back carefully. “It was early this month. Your dad went to the bar and started smashing things; my people contacted me to handle it, and I just happened to run into her. She wasn’t dead drunk, just a bit unsteady on her feet. Oh right, she had another woman with her at the time.”

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