She Got Revenge on Her Ex-Girlfriend Through a Kiss Scene - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The eighteenth day of filming marked the official arrival of the rainy season in the ancient town. Continuous rain poured from a leaden sky, creating a dense field of splashes on the bluestone paths. The curtain of water falling from the eaves never ceased, as if enveloping the entire crew in a damp, heavy cocoon.

Fatigue spread through the production like a plague. After eighteen days of high-intensity filming, working over twelve hours daily, everyone carried heavy dark circles under their eyes. Even their speech was tinged with the weariness of being soaked through by the rain.

It was during this time that Xi Jisheng’s stomach ailment flared up again.

At three in the morning, she was jolted awake by a dull, throbbing pain in her abdomen. It wasn’t a sharp cramp, but a persistent, heavy ache—as if someone had stuffed a piece of waterlogged cotton into her stomach, dragging it down. She curled up on the bed, her forehead pressed against the cold wall, counting the sound of the raindrops outside until the sky turned pale.

During breakfast, her assistant, Xiao Tang, looked worried. “Teacher Xi, you look terrible. Should we ask for leave?”

Xi Jisheng shook her head, spooning a bit of plain white porridge into her mouth. The rice had a faint sweetness, but her throat felt tight, and every swallow required a conscious effort of will.

The atmosphere on set was equally strange.

The “professional yet distant” dynamic between Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu, fermented over eighteen days, began to make the staff uneasy. Initially, everyone saw it as a mark of professionalism—two great actresses, fully immersed in their roles, keeping their distance off-camera. But over time, that distance took on an unnatural stiffness, like two pieces of paper forced together whose edges refused to align.

“They didn’t speak to each other again today,” the script supervisor, Xiao Li, whispered to Assistant Director Lao Chen. “During the walkthrough earlier, Teacher Xi almost fainted. Teacher Lou clearly saw it—she even paused for a second—but then she just turned around to talk to the director.”

Lao Chen lit a cigarette, watching the two women preparing for the deep alley scene through the rain. “The acting is incredible. Look at the way they lock eyes in that library scene yesterday—pure gold. But off-camera…”

“Off-camera, they’re like strangers,” the Director of Photography, Lao Zhao, joined them, lowering his voice. “No, weirder than strangers. Strangers don’t work this hard to maintain distance. The performance is good, but the air pressure on set is so low it’s hard to breathe.”

As they spoke, Lou Ningyu’s assistant, Xiao Wei, hurried over with a small bag of medicine. She didn’t go to Lou Ningyu; instead, she headed straight for Xi Jisheng’s assistant, Xiao Tang.

The two talked in low voices under the eaves. The rain was too loud to hear them, but Xiao Wei handed the medicine to Xiao Tang, who nodded with a look of gratitude.

“See that?” Lao Zhao pointed with his chin. “Teacher Lou’s assistant is giving medicine to Teacher Xi’s assistant. But Teacher Lou herself? She hasn’t even looked in this direction once.”

“Yesterday when Teacher Xi had stomach pain, Teacher Lou had someone send medicine, but she didn’t get within three meters of her all day,” Xiao Li muttered. “Is this caring or not caring?”

No one had an answer.

…

The rain intensified. Today they were shooting scenes from the 2018 timeline—the reunion of Shen Su and Zhou Yin in the small town. This was eight years after their separation; both were now in their thirties. Zhou Yin was in a marriage of convenience; Shen Su was single, living a repetitive life in the town library. They were to meet in a deep alley and have a fierce argument.

The script read: “This scene is the emotional climax of the film. Eight years of waiting, misunderstanding, and resentment must erupt here.”

Director Peng Ke demanded, “It has to hurt. Real pain. So painful that the audience feels like they can’t breathe.”

As Xi Jisheng looked at the line in the script—”Why didn’t you come looking for me?”—the ache in her stomach suddenly spiked. She put the script down and looked at Lou Ningyu under the eaves across the way. Lou was confirming blocking with the director, her profile a blur in the misty light. Her fingers were unconsciously stroining the edge of her script—a habit she had when nervous. Xi Jisheng remembered.

Remembering too much was becoming a burden.

…

At 10:00 AM, the rain slowed slightly. The prop team was setting up the alley—a narrow bluestone passage flanked by high white walls covered in wet moss. At the end of the alley, a dim yellow streetlamp glowed, casting a hazy halo in the mist.

Xiao Zhang, a crew member, was checking equipment when he noticed a strange face peeking into the alley. “Who are you?” he asked. “We’re filming here. No unauthorized personnel.”

The person turned around. It was a woman in her thirties, wearing black-rimmed glasses and the standard black crew jacket, with a temporary ID hanging around her neck. She pushed up her glasses with a professional smile. “I’m a new driver’s assistant. Mr. Xu asked me to familiarize myself with the location.”

Xiao Zhang checked the ID. The photo matched; the name was “Shu Qin.” He frowned. “What’s a driver’s assistant doing on the actual set?”

“Mr. Xu said we’ll be transporting the teachers to the next location later, so he wanted me to learn the route,” she replied smoothly. “Can I take a look? Just five minutes.”

Xiao Zhang hesitated but let her through. With so many people moving in and out, it was impossible to know everyone.

“Shu Qin”—who was actually Shu Qin, a veteran tabloid journalist—walked into the alley. On the surface, she was checking the terrain, but her eyes were like scanners, sweeping the scene. Her targets were Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu.

Seven years ago, she had been obsessed with the “battle of the two queens.” She had always felt there was a deeper story behind their “feud”—the way they avoided each other’s eyes felt like they were trying too hard to hide something. This collaboration on Echo was the confirmation she needed. Two rivals who hadn’t spoken for seven years suddenly starring in a dual-lead film? No one with a brain believed it was purely professional.

She had been undercover for three days, disguised as a driver’s assistant, recording every subtle interaction. Just yesterday, she had secretly recorded a conversation between the assistants:

Xiao Tang (Xi’s assistant): “Thanks, Sister Wei. How did Teacher Lou know Teacher Xi’s stomach was hurting?” Xiao Wei (Lou’s assistant): “Teacher Lou asks every day if Teacher Xi has eaten… don’t tell Teacher Xi, though. Teacher Lou won’t let us say anything.” Xiao Tang: “Teacher Lou is so attentive.” Xiao Wei: “Sigh, she remembers Teacher Xi’s details better than her own. She even knows Teacher Xi likes millet porridge with pickled vegetables when her stomach acts up.”

That recording, combined with photos of the medicine exchange, was enough for an explosive headline.

As Shu Qin plotted her next move, a hand suddenly clapped her on the shoulder. She jumped, turning to find the producer, Xu Chu, standing behind her with a cold expression.

“Reporter Shu,” Xu Chu’s voice was calm, but her eyes were like ice. “You certainly are dedicated.”

Shu Qin’s heart sank, but she kept her composure. “Mr. Xu, I don’t understand.”

“You don’t?” Xu Chu pulled a micro-recorder from Shu Qin’s pocket. “Disguising yourself as staff, filming and recording secretly… Do you think this film set is a public market?”

“Mr. Xu, the public has a right to know—”

“A right to know?” Xu Chu sneered. “Does that include voyeurism into actors’ privacy? Or secretly recording staff? Shu Qin, do you want to be on the industry blacklist?”

Shu Qin’s face finally went pale. An industry blacklist meant no legitimate production would ever let her near a set again. Her career would be over.

“I was just curious,” she stammered. “Why would two people who supposedly ‘hate’ each other care so much about whether the other has eaten? It doesn’t add up.”

“Does professional courtesy between actors require an explanation from you?” Xu Chu pocketed the recorder. “You have two choices. One: leave now, delete everything you took today, and I’ll pretend this didn’t happen. Two: I call security, report you to the police, and make a phone call to your editor-in-chief.”

Shu Qin gritted her teeth. “Mr. Xu, you’re protecting them so fiercely… is it because their relationship really is ‘problematic’?”

Xu Chu looked at her with a profound gaze. “Even if they did have a history, that is their private business. It is not for you, or anyone else, to use as a sensationalist hook.” She paused, emphasizing every word: “Now. Choose.”

The rain poured down harder. Shu Qin eventually chose to leave. But before she exited the alley, she glanced back at Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu.

They stood at opposite ends of the alley, separated by the entire crew, as if by a galaxy. But Shu Qin knew that some galaxies were just for show.

The real story was always hidden beneath the surface.