She Got Revenge on Her Ex-Girlfriend Through a Kiss Scene - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Two months later in Beijing, the late summer breeze began to carry a hint of autumn chill.

Inside the screening room of Peng Ke’s studio, the lights dimmed. The final cut of Echoes began to play on the massive screen.

Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu sat side by side in the second row. An armrest separated them, but both had their hands resting upon it, the distance between their pinky fingers less than a single centimeter.

This was their first time seeing the completed version.

The story of Shen Su and Zhou Yin unfolded before them—from their innocent encounter at twenty, to the misunderstandings and separation at thirty, and finally to their reunion on the stone bridge at forty-nine and fifty.

Two and a half hours. Twenty years.

When the screening ended and the lights flared up, Xi Jisheng found her face drenched in tears. She wiped them away surreptitiously and turned to look at Lou Ningyu, only to find her eyes equally red.

Director Peng Ke stood up and turned toward them. “What do you think?”

The screenwriter, Chu Jin, sat in the front row, her notebook already filled with several pages of notes. She pushed up her glasses. “The overall pacing is excellent. But I’d like to mention… the argument scene in the deep alley.”

Everyone’s gaze shifted to her.

Chu Jin flipped to a specific page. “The part where Shen Su breaks down and kneels. The emotional intensity is so high it might make some audiences uncomfortable. I suggest… cutting it a little shorter.”

Peng Ke stroked her chin, remaining silent.

Xi Jisheng remembered that scene vividly—Shen Su grabbing Zhou Yin’s hand in the rain-drenched alley, dropping to her knees, and sobbing, “Don’t go.” After filming that scene, Xi Jisheng had cried in the dressing room for half an hour.

“I think it should be kept,” Lou Ningyu spoke up suddenly.

Everyone looked at her. Lou Ningyu’s voice was calm but resolute. “That is the ‘moment of truth’ for Shen Su and Zhou Yin. It’s the first time Shen Su lets go of all her pride and admits how much she needs Zhou Yin. Without that scene, the later reunion loses its weight.”

Peng Ke nodded and looked at Xi Jisheng. “Jisheng, what do you think?”

Xi Jisheng was silent for a few seconds. That scene was too real for her—so real that it hurt every time she thought of it. But she knew Lou Ningyu was right.

“Keep it,” she said softly.

Chu Jin scribbled a line in her notebook and then glanced at them, her gaze complex. Xi Jisheng caught that look—a sense of realization mixed with a touch of relief.

…

After the meeting, Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu walked out of the studio together. The corridor was quiet, echoing only with their footsteps.

“The way Chu Jin looked at us just now…” Xi Jisheng whispered. “Did you notice?”

Lou Ningyu nodded. “Yes.”

“She seems… to know.”

“She’s known for a long time,” Lou Ningyu said. “Since the day we filmed the alley scene. You couldn’t stop crying, and I stayed by your side. She came in to bring water, saw us, said nothing, put the water down, and left.”

Xi Jisheng recalled that day. Her vision had been blurred by tears; she had only sensed someone coming in and out. It turned out to have been Chu Jin.

“She wrote a sentence,” Lou Ningyu continued. “On the title page of the script—only the director and we have it. It said: ‘Shen Su and Zhou Yin are fictional, but love is real.'”

Xi Jisheng’s heart skipped a beat.

They entered the elevator. The mirrored walls reflected their figures—standing close, but not holding hands.

Lou Ningyu looked at Xi Jisheng’s reflection and suddenly said, “Tomorrow, Wen Bixu has invited us to watch the first cut of the documentary.”

“The documentary?”

“Beyond Echoes. She recorded the entire filming process.”

Xi Jisheng’s fingers curled. She thought of those moments captured by the lens—the hand extended and then withdrawn in the rainy night, the reddened ears in the library, the tears on the rooftop.

“I’m a little… scared,” she confessed.

Lou Ningyu turned to her. “Scared of what?”

“Scared of seeing those… vulnerable moments of mine,” Xi Jisheng’s voice was thin. “Scared of seeing you cry for me, scared of seeing us clearly in love yet hurting each other.”

The elevator reached the underground garage and the doors opened. Lou Ningyu didn’t walk out immediately. Instead, she reached out and very lightly brushed the back of Xi Jisheng’s hand.

“Then we’ll watch it together,” she said. “And we’ll remember together—that those times are over. Now, we are moving forward.”

…

Wen Bixu’s studio was in the 798 Art Zone, a high-ceilinged loft with walls covered in her photography. When Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu arrived, Peng Ke and Chu Jin were already there, along with the producer, Ai Ye.

“You’re here.” Wen Bixu was wearing a simple black T-shirt and cargo pants, her hair tied back haphazardly. She had dark circles from staying up late, but her spirit was high. “Sit down, I’ll start the film.”

There were five chairs in the screening area. Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu naturally sat together—this time without an armrest between them, their sleeves brushing against each other.

The lights dimmed. Beyond Echoes began with a simple black-and-white shot of Wen Bixu’s hand writing in a notebook, the pen scratching against the paper.

Then came her voiceover:

“I originally intended to make a documentary about filmmaking. But as I filmed, I realized I was recording how a love dies, and how it is resurrected.”

The first scene was the first day of shooting. Xi Jisheng and Lou Ningyu stood at opposite ends of the set, as if separated by a galaxy. Wen Bixu’s lens captured the repressed longing in Xi Jisheng’s eyes when she looked at Lou Ningyu, and the flash of disappointment in Lou Ningyu’s when she turned away.

Xi Jisheng clenched her fists.

Frames flashed by—the rainy night, the library, the alleyway where they wept while reciting their lines. Then, the footage suddenly shifted to a grainy, handheld video.

It was the hospital corridor. Lou Ningyu was holding Xi Jisheng’s shoulder, and Xi Jisheng was buried in her embrace, trembling.

The clip was only ten-odd seconds long, but it clearly showed Lou Ningyu’s expression—a look of such extreme heartache that no “ordinary friend” could ever possess.

Xi Jisheng whipped her head toward Wen Bixu. “Wen Bixu,” her voice shook in the dark, “is… all of this going in?”

The screening paused. The lights came on. Wen Bixu looked at her. “What do you think?”

Xi Jisheng stood up and walked to the window, turning her back to the room. Her shoulders were shaking slightly. Lou Ningyu followed her, placing a hand on her back. “Jisheng.”

“It hurts too much,” Xi Jisheng said, her voice thick with tears. “Watching myself hurt, and watching someone else hurt. These moments… They’re too private. I don’t want everyone to see.”

Wen Bixu remained silent. Peng Ke spoke up. “Bixu, what are your thoughts?”

“I believe it should stay,” Wen Bixu said, her tone calm but firm. “This isn’t ‘candid camera’; this is a record. A record of how a real emotion can survive time and misunderstanding to grow again. The audience needs to see this—to see how much love can hurt, and how resilient it can be.”

Lou Ningyu turned to look at Wen Bixu, then back at Xi Jisheng. “Jisheng, look at me.”

Xi Jisheng turned slowly, her face streaked with tears. Lou Ningyu took her hand. “I agree with Wen Bixu. These moments are real, and our love is real. Why hide it?”

“I’m afraid…” Xi Jisheng sobbed. “Afraid people will use this to hurt you. Afraid they’ll call you ‘love-brained’ or say you’re ruining your career for a relationship. I’m afraid you’ll be attacked because of me.”

Lou Ningyu smiled and wiped away her tears. “Xi Jisheng, I’m thirty years old. I know what I’m doing, and I know what I want. If being attacked is the price of loving you, I’m willing to pay it.”

Xi Jisheng stared at her for a long time. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned to Wen Bixu. “Okay. Keep it.”

“However,” Xi Jisheng added, “don’t give it a wide release. This is… too private. Show it only to those who truly want to understand.”

Wen Bixu nodded. “I intended that from the start. This documentary will only have limited screenings at film festivals. No streaming, no DVDs. Like… a love letter written for those who understand.”

Ai Ye spoke then, her voice warm but powerful. “Children, do you know? The greatest power of art is truth. Real pain, real joy, real love. You gave Echoes a real soul; now, give this documentary a real heartbeat.”

…

The final decision: Beyond Echoes would serve as a special feature, with only three limited screenings in the film festival unit after the premiere.

Wen Bixu added a final monologue to the ending, the subtitles appearing line by line:

“I recorded how a love dies, and how it is resurrected.” “The idealist learned to accept the imperfections of reality.” “The realist learned to believe in the possibilities of the ideal.” “And love… is the moonlight that makes them meet.” “Dedicated to everyone who is brave in love.”

…

As they walked out of the studio into the night, the streetlights stretched their shadows long.

“The premiere gowns…” Xi Jisheng said suddenly. “What color did you choose?”

“My stylist recommended deep blue. You?”

“Light blue,” Xi Jisheng said, then laughed. “We didn’t discuss it, but… it feels like that’s how they should pair.”

“Like the sky and the sea,” Lou Ningyu smiled.

“And like Shen Su and Zhou Yin,” Xi Jisheng whispered. “The script said Shen Su likes light blue, and Zhou Yin likes deep blue.”

They reached the car. One week until the premiere.

“Are you nervous?” Lou Ningyu asked, her hand steady on the steering wheel.

“Yes,” Xi Jisheng admitted. “Afraid the movie isn’t good, afraid the audience won’t like it, afraid…”

“…Afraid our relationship will take the spotlight from the film,” Lou Ningyu finished for her.

Xi Jisheng nodded. Lou Ningyu reached over and squeezed her hand. “Then let the movie speak for itself. As for us… we’ll speak once the movie is finished talking.”

…

But unbeknownst to them, a storm was brewing online.

At 2:00 AM, the entertainment blogger @DetectiveShuQin posted the biggest scoop of the year:

[FULL RECORD] Lou Ningyu & Xi Jisheng: Seven Years of Secret Love, A Two-Way Journey!

The article started from their university days—graduation photos of them smiling at each other by Erhai Lake. It included anonymous interviews from classmates: “They were the recognized couple of the class. Everyone thought they’d get married.”

Then, the seven years after the breakup. Shu Qin had somehow obtained blurred screenshots of bank transfers—5,000 yuan every month, sent anonymously to Xi Jisheng’s mother’s account. There were photos of theater ticket stubs from three years ago.

Most “lethal” of all were the photos and videos from the Echoes shoot. The support in the hospital corridor, the embrace outside the apartment, and even a photo of their silhouettes walking side by side out of Wen Bixu’s studio just days ago.

The article concluded emotionally: “They never stopped loving each other. Separated seven years ago by youth and misunderstanding, reunited seven years later by a movie. This isn’t publicity; this is a love story more moving than any script.”

The post garnered 100,000 shares within half an hour. The trending list exploded.

#LouNingyuXiJishengSevenYears (EXPLODING)

#EchoesRealLifeVersion (BOILING)

#TheyAreReal (HOT)

#ShuQinUltimateScoop (HOT)

#TwoWayLove (HOT)

#PleaseGetMarriedImmediately (HOT)

Six out of the top ten trending topics belonged to them.