She Got Revenge on Her Ex-Girlfriend Through a Kiss Scene - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

At 6:30 AM, the curtains in the hotel conference room were tightly drawn, and the fluorescent lights illuminated the room with the clinical brightness of an operating theater.

Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu sat at opposite ends of the long table, looking like two prisoners awaiting sentencing. Publicity staff from both teams surrounded them: Lin Wenxun and a young assistant for Xi; David and two PR specialists for Lou.

Producer Xu Chu sat at the head of the table, her expression as grave as if she were deploying a military operation.

“Twenty-three media outlets are visiting the set today,” Xu Chu tapped the table. “This includes six live-streaming platforms. From 10:00 AM to noon, you need to complete three segments in front of the cameras: a group interview, live interaction, and a re-enactment of a classic scene.”

David pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses. “The key word is ‘natural.’ We need the media to feel that your relationship is harmonious, but not overly so, otherwise, we’ll be accused of hype. It’s a very difficult balance to strike.”

He stood up and walked between the two women. “Now, let’s rehearse a few key scenarios.”

…

Scenario One: Watching the Monitor Together

David motioned them toward a projection screen. “The media will ask you to watch a playback together. Ningyu, you’ll point at the screen and softly explain the emotional nuances of the scene. Jisheng, you’ll lean in to listen, nodding occasionally.”

Lou Ningyu naturally stepped toward Xi Jisheng, her shoulder lightly brushing against Xi’s.

It was a minute reduction in distance, but Xi Jisheng’s body instantly stiffened—as if struck by a current, she felt numb from her shoulder to her fingertips.

“Teacher Xi,” David frowned, “relax a bit. You’re old classmates.”

Xi Jisheng took a deep breath, forcing herself to loosen up. She could smell Lou Ningyu’s faint perfume—a scent both familiar and foreign. It was the niche salon fragrance Xi had given her as a birthday gift seven years ago.

She thought Lou had stopped using it long ago.

“Okay,” Xi Jisheng said, her voice dry.

Lou Ningyu leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Relax. It’s just acting.”

Those words were like a bucket of cold water, snapping Xi Jisheng back to reality. Right. Just acting. Like the past eighteen days, and like the thirty days yet to come. They were just acting.

…

Scenario Two: Adjusting Each Other’s Costumes

“The media will ask you to help adjust each other’s clothes for ‘intimate interaction’ shots,” David instructed. “Ningyu, adjust Jisheng’s collar. Keep it natural, like a friend helping out. Jisheng, you can brush a stray lock of hair from Ningyu’s forehead.”

Lou Ningyu reached out, her fingertips touching the collar of Xi Jisheng’s shirt. The movement was light as a feather, but Xi could feel the heat from her fingers and the rhythm of her breathing.

When it was Xi’s turn, her hand hovered in mid-air, hesitating. Several strands of hair had indeed fallen over Lou Ningyu’s forehead, glowing softly under the lights.

Seven years ago, Xi did this constantly—in the rehearsal hall, in the library, on the small bed of their rented room. She would naturally reach out and tuck Lou’s hair behind her ear. Back then, Lou would squint and smile like a cat being scratched.

Now, Xi’s fingers finally landed, flicking the hair away. The touch was fleeting; she withdrew her hand as if burned. Lou watched her with a deep gaze but said nothing.

…

Scenario Three: Sharing a Bottle of Water

“This is the easiest shot for the cameras,” David produced a bottle of mineral water. “Media love this. Ningyu, unscrew the cap first, then naturally hand it to Jisheng.”

Lou Ningyu took the bottle and opened it. As she handed it over, her Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, her profile looking exceptionally soft in the light. She handed it to Xi Jisheng with a naturalness born of a thousand repetitions.

Xi Jisheng looked at the rim—droplets of water sparkled on it. Her fingers tightened, then loosened, and she finally took the bottle, tilting her head back for a sip.

The water was room temperature, yet it felt like fire going down her throat.

“Excellent,” David nodded with satisfaction. “Remember this feeling—natural, effortless intimacy. Too forced and it looks fake; too distant and they’ll say you’re fighting. This balance is just right.”

…

The rehearsal lasted forty minutes. Xi Jisheng felt like a puppet. Every movement, expression, and line was meticulously designed. She looked at herself in the mirror—costumed, perfectly made up, smiling with appropriate detachment. This “Xi Jisheng” was a stranger to the “Jisheng” of seven years ago who would laugh recklessly and act spoiled in front of Lou Ningyu.

As they finished, Lou Ningyu walked past her and whispered: “Later… if you get nervous, just look into my eyes.”

Xi Jisheng looked up.

“I’ll tell you when to smile and when to speak,” Lou’s voice was low, audible only to them. “Trust me.”

She then turned and left, leaving Xi Jisheng alone in the empty conference room.

…

10:00 AM: The Set Visit

The main street of the ancient town was packed with media. A forest of cameras and microphones lined the temporary interview area. Journalists crowded the front, and the air was filled with the blinding white of flashbulbs.

Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu stood side-by-side on the red carpet. They wore student costumes—Xi in a simple white shirt and jeans, Lou in a floral dress and cardigan. The makeup artists had kept their look light to emphasize a youthful, “classmate” feel.

From a distance, they looked like two students who had just finished class, standing in the crowd with a hint of bashful restraint.

“Over here!” “Teacher Lou, look this way!” “Teacher Xi, give us a smile!”

The shutter sounds were incessant. Xi Jisheng maintained her professional smile, but her eyes struggled to find a place to rest. In her periphery, she saw Lou Ningyu—smiling naturally, waving, even greeting familiar reporters. She was so composed, so effortless.

During the group interview, a reporter from Entertainment Weekly asked: “You’ve been collaborating for over half a month. How is the experience?”

The microphone went to Lou Ningyu first. She turned to look at Xi Jisheng and smiled. “It’s like being back in university,” she said into the mic, her voice gentle and clear. “Jisheng is still that student who is most serious about rehearsals. Working with her always brings out my best state.”

She said “Jisheng,” not “Teacher Xi.” The crowd went silent for a split second before the flashes intensified.

The mic turned to Xi Jisheng. She gripped it tightly. “Ningyu is still that…” she paused, her voice slightly tight, “partner who best knows how to trigger an actor’s potential.”

She said “Ningyu,” not “Teacher Lou.”

The live-stream comments exploded: “OMG! They’re using first names, not the polite ‘Teacher’!” “The way Lou Ningyu looks at Xi Jisheng is so soft…” “I’m getting ‘Ship’ vibes. Is it just me?”

…

The interview lasted thirty minutes. Xi Jisheng’s face felt frozen from smiling. Lou Ningyu remained composed, answering questions flawlessly. But Xi noticed—whenever a sharp question arose, the hand Lou had placed on her shoulder (a “rehearsed” move) would tighten slightly. It was a silent reassurance: Don’t fear, I’m here.

Then came the interactive segment. The media requested a re-enactment of the “Library Encounter.”

“Action!” Xu Chu called out.

Xi Jisheng stood on her tiptoes to reach for a book on the top shelf. This time, her movements were half a beat slow—she hadn’t eaten all day, and hypoglycemia was setting in. Her vision blurred.

As the book fell, Lou Ningyu reached out to catch it. She was supposed to look up, smile, and say: “Classmate, your book.”

But Xi Jisheng’s gaze didn’t meet hers. Her vision began to darken, her body swayed, and she pitched forward.

Lou Ningyu’s reaction was terrifyingly fast. She dropped the book, her right hand instantly sweeping around Xi Jisheng’s waist while her left hand braced Xi’s arm, stabilizing her stumbling body. It was a fluid, seamless motion.

Time froze.

Xi Jisheng felt Lou’s hand firmly supporting her waist—a familiar position. Seven years ago, when they danced, Lou’s hand was always there. She felt the strength of Lou’s arm supporting her entire weight. Subconsciously, Xi grabbed Lou’s arm like a lifeline. When she looked up, their faces were less than ten centimeters apart.

She saw Lou’s eyes—the eyes that always held a smile were now filled with genuine, raw worry. Lou’s warm, ragged breath brushed against her cheek.

Three seconds. Only three seconds.

But on camera, these three seconds were stretched, slowed, and captured: Lou holding Xi’s waist, Xi clutching Lou’s arm, staring at each other at point-blank range. Sunlight caught them from the side, framing them in gold like a classic reunion from an old film.

Lou Ningyu was the first to recover. Her hand didn’t let go immediately. She whispered: “Are you okay?”

The voice was so soft only Xi could hear it.

Xi Jisheng snapped awake. She released her grip and stepped back, creating distance. “I’m fine, thank you.” Her voice was shaking.

Lou Ningyu withdrew her hand, bent down to pick up the book, and handed it over. “Be careful.”

It all happened within ten seconds. But for the media, it was more than enough. The flashes erupted like a storm. The live-stream went chaotic: “SHE GRABBED HER WAIST!” “That look! If they aren’t together, I’m a cat!” “That wasn’t acting. That was a reflex.”

#LouNingyuSupportWaist rocketed to the #1 trending spot.

The GIF went viral—the moment Lou caught her, the moment Xi grabbed her arm, the moment their eyes met. Every second was analyzed. People noted the “naturalness” of the touch.

Xi Jisheng knew. The “safe distance” they had spent twenty-five days meticulously building had been utterly shattered by a single, accidental moment of instinct.

The body remembers what the mind tries to forget.