She Got Revenge on Her Ex-Girlfriend Through a Kiss Scene - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

At twilight one month later, the stone bridge of the ancient town was dyed gold by the setting sun.

Xi Jisheng stood at the eastern end of the bridge, dressed as the 2033 version of Shen Su—forty-nine years old, hair laced with silver, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes meticulously traced with special effects makeup. She wore a cream-colored linen robe and carried a simple cloth bag. This was the scene where Shen Su returned to the small town for the first time after twenty years away.

At the western end, Lou Ningyu was ready. Fifty-year-old Zhou Yin, dressed sharply, wearing thin-rimmed glasses. She held a camera—the signature prop for Zhou Yin, who had become a renowned photographer.

The entire crew was so quiet you could hear the river flowing. This was the final scene of Echo, Scene 78, the very last shot of the film. Shen Su and Zhou Yin, reuniting after twenty years on the same stone bridge they had crossed countless times in their youth.

Director Peng Ke stood behind the monitor. He didn’t shout “Ready” as usual; he simply raised a hand.

“Jisheng, Ningyu,” Peng spoke into the intercom, his voice echoing across the bridge. “This is the last one. I want you to forget all the techniques. Shen Su and Zhou Yin waited twenty years. Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu…” He paused, and everyone held their breath. “Finish this ‘arrival’ in your own way.”

They looked at each other across the bridge. It was only thirty meters long, yet it felt like a gulf of twenty years.

“Action!”

Xi Jisheng took the first step. Her pace was a hesitant, heavy slowness, as if the weight of those twenty years were pressed into every footfall. Lou Ningyu walked from the west, her steps carrying an urgent restraint—wanting to be fast, but not daring to be.

They stopped in the middle of the bridge, three meters apart. According to the script, there should be lines here, an embrace, a conversation of relief or sobbing.

But Xi Jisheng just looked at her. She saw the fifty-year-old Zhou Yin, with lines at her eyes, whose gaze was still that of the girl who used to develop her photos in a darkroom. Lou Ningyu looked back. The forty-nine-year-old Shen Su was still so thin, her fingers unconsciously clutching the strap of her bag—a small habit belonging to Xi Jisheng herself.

No one spoke. Tears began to slide down both their faces simultaneously. It wasn’t a dramatic sob; it was just a quiet, continuous stream.

Time froze. The water flowed beneath, the town hummed in the distance, but on the bridge, everything was still. Twenty years of Shen Su and Zhou Yin, and seven years of Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu, overlapped and merged in that instant.

Peng Ke didn’t call it “Cut.” The camera kept rolling. Thirty seconds. One minute.

Lou Ningyu spoke first, her voice so soft she seemed afraid of shattering the dream. “Jisheng.”

It wasn’t Zhou Yin to Shen Su. It was Lou Ningyu to Xi Jisheng.

Xi’s tears fell harder. Her lips moved, finally finding sound. “Ningyu.”

They took a step forward together. The distance was close to one meter. Then they stopped. No embrace, no touch—just standing there, looking at each other through the tears.

“Cut,” Peng’s voice was raspy.

Silence reigned for three seconds before applause erupted from behind the monitor and spread through the crew. It wasn’t a cheer; it was a reverent applause. Everyone knew they had witnessed something that transcended acting.

“It’s a wrap!” the assistant director announced.

Streamers and petals burst from the sides of the bridge, falling on them. Lou Ningyu smiled first, her tears not yet dry. “It’s a wrap, Teacher Xi.”

Xi Jisheng smiled back and nodded. “It’s a wrap, Teacher Lou.”

They turned and walked toward opposite ends of the bridge, mirroring the fate of their characters—reunited, then moving toward their separate lives. But this time, as Xi reached the end of the bridge, she looked back. Lou Ningyu was looking back, too.

…

The Wrap Party

The wrap party was held at the town’s best riverside restaurant. Lanterns hung from the eaves, and everyone was drinking.

Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu were seated next to each other at the head table. Peng Ke stood up, his face red from wine. “I want to thank Jisheng and Ningyu… you gave Shen Su and Zhou Yin a soul. I wish… no, I bless everyone here to give themselves an answer that leaves no regrets.”

As the toasting began, Lou Ningyu naturally blocked three drinks for Xi Jisheng.

“You don’t have to…” Xi whispered, pulling her sleeve.

Lou turned to her with a smile, her eyes bright with wine. “I want to.”

Halfway through the feast, Xi felt stifled and went to the terrace. The night breeze carried the moisture of the river. Lou Ningyu followed her out.

“The play is over,” Lou said.

“Mm.”

“Shen Su and Zhou Yin… they got their reunion.”

“That was the script,” Xi whispered.

“Then what about Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu?” Lou asked softly. “How much longer must we wait?”

Xi Jisheng picked at the wood grain of the railing.

“Starting tomorrow,” Lou continued, “I don’t have the identity of ‘Zhou Yin’ to hide behind. I am just Lou Ningyu—the Lou Ningyu who wants to love Xi Jisheng.” She turned to face her. “Are you still going to hide?”

Xi finally looked up. “My mother has surgery tomorrow. In Beijing.” She looked down. “This past month, I’ve been thinking… if I promise you, then I can’t handle the pressure again, like seven years ago…”

“I won’t let you carry it alone.” Lou gripped her hand. “At twenty-three, I thought love conquered all. You thought reality was heavier. Now we are thirty. I know love doesn’t conquer everything, but I know this: winning the whole world without love is meaningless.”

…

The Hallway

The party broke up near midnight. They walked back to the hotel, their shadows overlapping and separating on the moonlit cobblestones. They stood side-by-side at their room doors in the dim hallway.

Xi Jisheng clutched her keycard so hard the plastic bit into her palm. She watched Lou swipe into her room, watched her turn—

“Jisheng,” Lou called out.

Lou backed against her own door, not entering yet. The scent of red wine and cedarwood hung in the air between them.

“My tolerance seems to have gotten worse,” Lou whispered, her fingers tracing the cold metal handle.

“You drank too fast,” Xi said, taking a step closer. “You were always like that, happy or sad, you just drank.”

“You remember.”

“How could I forget?”

The air thickened. Xi’s hand rose, slowly giving Lou time to pull away. But Lou stayed still. Xi’s cool fingertips brushed a stray hair behind Lou’s ear. Then, her hand stayed, cupping Lou’s cheek. Her palm was warm, calloused from years of playing instruments.

“In these seven years,” Xi’s thumb slowly traced Lou’s cheekbone, her voice lower than a heartbeat, “I tried many times… to move on.”

Lou’s breath hitched.

“But I couldn’t.” Xi leaned in until their noses almost touched, their breath mingling. “Lou Ningyu, the hand you let go of back then…”

Lou suddenly grabbed the front of Xi’s shirt, like a drowning woman reaching for a float. “What about it now?” she whispered.

Xi’s answer was a kiss.

It wasn’t a tentative or gentle kiss; it was the breach of a dam held back for seven years. It was fierce, tasting of whisky and the ache of something lost and found. Lou let out a muffled groan and responded even more intensely, her fingers digging into Xi’s clothes.

“I waited…” Xi gasped for air, her lips still brushing Lou’s. “I waited seven years for you. Every day… felt like a slow execution.”

“Then don’t wait anymore,” Lou rasped, and kissed her back—slower this time, with a desperate tenderness.

Lou fumbled with her keycard again, and this time the door clicked open. She didn’t hesitate; she pulled Xi by the wrist into the room. The door shut behind them, sealing out the world.

In the darkness, held together by the light of the city through the window, they embraced. The high walls built over seven years crumbled in an instant.

Xi held her tighter, whispering into her ear:

“This time, don’t you dare think about letting go.”