She Got Revenge on Her Ex-Girlfriend Through a Kiss Scene - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

8:00 AM Paris Time, a suite at the Hôtel Ritz

The morning light sliced a golden band across the Persian rug through the gaps in the heavy velvet curtains.

Lou Ningyu had just returned from her morning run. Sweat soaked the back of her Lululemon gear, outlining the firm lines of her shoulder blades.

She was thirty.

This realization was like a fine needle, pricking her gently every morning she woke up. It wasn’t pain, but rather a sober reminder—you are standing at the peak; what comes next?

Her assistant, Xiao Wei, entered quietly carrying a tray with a French breakfast: croissants, yogurt, and a cup of black coffee. She set the tray on the small round table on the balcony, looking as if she wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Speak,” Lou Ningyu said, picking up a towel to wipe her sweat, her voice still slightly breathless from the exercise.

“Director Peng Ke’s side replied,” Xiao Wei said softly, as if afraid of disturbing something. “Teacher Xi… she accepted.”

The hand Lou Ningyu was using to wipe her neck paused for 0.5 seconds.

Only 0.5 seconds—so fast it was almost undetectable.

But Xiao Wei had followed her for five years and knew what that 0.5 seconds meant. It meant that Lou Ningyu’s mask of eternal composure had cracked, revealing an almost invisible fissure.

“Okay,” Lou Ningyu put down the towel and walked toward the balcony. “Notify the team. Video conference at 3:00 PM. Everyone must be present.”

“Yes.” Xiao Wei withdrew and gently closed the door.

Outside the balcony lay the Parisian morning. The Seine flowed quietly in the distance, and the tip of the Eiffel Tower flickered through the mist.

Lou Ningyu didn’t look at the scenery. She picked up her iPad and tapped on an encrypted folder. Inside was a single video file titled “The Teahouse: Xiao Dingbao Soliloquy Clip.”

She played it. A twenty-two-year-old Xi Jisheng appeared on the screen. It was their graduation play seven years ago. Xi Jisheng played Xiao Dingbao, wearing a plain cheongsam, standing under dim yellow lights, reciting the tragic yet perceptive lines of a courtesan written by Lao She:

“My life is just like the tea in this teahouse. After one steep, the flavor fades. But there’s always someone who thinks they can still get something more out of it.”

The camera zoomed in. There were tears in Xi Jisheng’s eyes, but they never fell. That restrained sorrow was like a thin wire, tightening around Lou Ningyu’s heart.

She watched this video every day. In every night spent tossing and turning, in every morning she needed to remind herself why she persisted. She had secretly copied this from the school database; the image was blurry and the audio noisy, but she had watched it for seven years—2,632 days.

Closing the video, Lou Ningyu unclasped the necklace at her throat. It was a very fine platinum chain with a simple geometric pendant. She flipped the pendant over. Engraved on the inside were two letters and a set of numbers:

XS

The initials of Xi Jisheng. The year they met.

That spring, under the wisteria trellis at the Film Academy, she had seen Xi Jisheng for the first time. The girl was rushing past with a stack of scripts, the wind lifting the hem of her white shirt, sunlight filtering through the wisteria onto her like the opening scene of a dream.

Lou Ningyu put the necklace back on. The pendant rested against her collarbone, feeling slightly warm. She took a sip of the black coffee, the bitter liquid sliding down her throat. Paris was beginning to wake up, and her heart, after seven years of silence, had finally heard the echo.

…

Hotel Meeting Room

The video conference had been going on for forty minutes. The atmosphere was as heavy as low pressure before a storm. The projector screen displayed the script summary and production team list for Echoes.

On both sides of the long table, Lou Ningyu’s core team was fully present: Manager Sister Chen, PR Director David, Business Director Mr. Wang, legal representatives, and the domestic PR team connected remotely.

“I’ll say it again,” Sister Chen tapped the table. She had been Lou Ningyu’s manager since she entered the industry—capable, sharp, and in her early forties. “Ningyu, you cannot take this job.”

David pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and chimed in: “From a PR perspective, this is a suicide mission. The #TwoQueensCantShareAThrone label has stuck for seven years. If you suddenly collaborate, how will the media write it? ‘Century Reconciliation’? ‘Marketing stunt’? The fans will explode.”

“It’s not just the fans,” Business Director Mr. Wang opened a folder. “I have three luxury endorsement contracts here with ‘negative image association clauses.’ If your co-star becomes a source of major controversy, the brands have the right to terminate unilaterally. And Xi Jisheng—” he paused, “the ‘discord rumors’ between you two are a controversy in themselves.”

The lawyer added, “And legally, if you two actually have a history, collaborating now could involve the risk of ’emotional kidnapping’ in the court of public opinion.”

The meeting room fell into silence. Everyone looked at the person at the end of the long table who hadn’t spoken a word.

Lou Ningyu was dressed in a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing slender wrists. A physical script was spread out before her, the edges slightly curled from being flipped through. Her finger unconsciously stroked the corner of a page—the scene of the “Stone Bridge Reunion.”

“Finished?” she finally spoke, her voice calm.

Sister Chen sighed. “Ningyu, I know what you’re thinking. She treated you that way seven years ago, and now you’re going to play second fiddle to her? How will the industry laugh at you? ‘Top Tier Movie Queen clinging to her ex’? Once that label is on, it doesn’t come off.”

“Also,” David pulled up a data sheet, “Xi Jisheng’s commercial value is only one-third of yours, and her box office draw is… this is a clear downgrade in resources. Fans will think you’re doing ‘poverty relief’.”

Lou Ningyu slowly raised her head, her gaze sweeping across everyone’s faces. Her eyes were exceptionally quiet under the room lights, like deep pools with no discernible emotion. She picked up the remote and turned off the business data and PR reports.

Then she opened another file—the digital version of the “Stone Bridge Reunion” scene—and projected it onto the screen.

[Scene 78: Stone Bridge · Day · Exterior]

Shen Su (49): You’re here.

Zhou Yin (50): Yes, I’m here.

(Silence. Wind blows across the bridge, willow catkins fly)

Shen Su: I looked for you for twenty years.

Zhou Yin: I know. So this time, it’s my turn to come find you.

The only sound in the room was the whirring of the projector’s cooling fan.

Lou Ningyu turned off the projector. The moment the screen went dark, she spoke: “I am thirty years old.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear.

“I’ve won the Golden Rooster, the Hong Kong Film Award, the Golden Horse. I’ve been to Cannes, Venice, and Berlin. I’ve endorsed every luxury brand you have on your list. My commercial value reports break records every year.” She paused. “And then what?”

No one answered.

“Then I realized that I’ve been acting for ten years, and not a single role makes me feel anything other than empty when I wake up in the middle of the night.” Lou Ningyu stood up and walked to the window, her back to the team. “I want to play a role that can stay on my tombstone. Not a box office number, not an award certificate, but something people will truly remember—’Lou Ningyu played Zhou Yin’.”

She turned around, her gaze resolute. “If I don’t play Zhou Yin at thirty, I’ll never be able to play her in this lifetime.”

Sister Chen wanted to say more, but Lou Ningyu raised a hand to stop her. “As for Xi Jisheng—”

Everyone held their breath.

“This is work,” Lou Ningyu’s voice was as calm as still water. “She and I have long since had nothing to do with each other.”

She said it so naturally, so certainly, as if she had truly sealed that past away in the time of seven years ago. Only she knew that every word of that sentence was a lie.

2,632 days. Every day had something to do with her. Every character she played had a shadow of Xi Jisheng; every award-winning moment made her want to see if Xi was in the audience; every time she passed the Film Academy, she remembered their first meeting under the wisteria.

But she would not say these things.

“The meeting was adjourned.” Lou Ningyu picked up the script. “David, prepare the official announcement copy; I want to review it personally. Mr. Wang, communicate with the brands; I will pay the liquidated damages. Sister Chen—” she looked at her manager, “book me the fastest flight home. I want to see Director Peng Ke.”

The team looked at each other and finally all stood up. “Understood.”

After the door closed, Lou Ningyu stood alone in the meeting room. The morning light had turned into the slanted sun of the afternoon. She opened the encrypted notes on her phone, entered the password 0615, and created a new entry:

“She accepted. I accepted too.”

“Seven years later, we are finally going to reunite in the same story.”

“This time, I won’t let you run away again.”

…

7:30 PM Beijing Time, a high-end office building in Beijing

Lou Ningyu’s studio was brightly lit. She had come straight here after getting off the plane. Jet lag made her weary, but her eyes remained sharp. The PR team had prepared three versions of the announcement, projected on the screen.

Version 1 (Official): “Very happy to join Director Peng Ke’s new work Echoes. Working with such an excellent team is a precious learning opportunity.”

Version 2 (Sentimental): “At thirty, I meet Zhou Yin. Looking forward to finding my original self within the story.”

Version 3 (Concise): “Echoes, I’m here.”

David pointed to the third version. “I suggest using this. It’s concise, powerful, and fits your usual style.”

Lou Ningyu shook her head, picked up a whiteboard marker, and wrote a line in the blank space:

“Zhou Yin. I’m here. @MovieEchoes”

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds.

“Ningyu,” David said cautiously, “the phrasing ‘I’m here’… it’s too pointed. The media will interpret it as you shouting out to a specific person.”

“I am shouting out to a specific person.” Lou Ningyu put down the pen. “The first thing Zhou Yin says to Shen Su is ‘I’m here.’ It’s a character line. What’s the problem?”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’.” Lou Ningyu’s tone was non-negotiable. “Use this.”

She turned to the lawyer. “Is the supplementary contract clause drafted?”

The lawyer handed over the document: “As per your request, we’ve added Article 38: The production side is prohibited from hyping the private relationship of the two leads in any form, including but not limited to being former classmates, competitive relationships, or emotional speculation. Violators will bear full legal responsibility and compensate both parties for losses.”

Lou Ningyu scanned the terms quickly and nodded. “Add one more: If one party causes the other to suffer online harassment or reputational damage due to their actions, the responsible party must publicly apologize and provide compensation.”

The lawyer took notes. “Won’t this be too harsh? Teacher Xi’s side…”

“It needs to be harsh.” Lou Ningyu closed the file. “I want to ensure that in this project, no one can hurt her in any way.”

David keenly captured something. “Ningyu, you’re adding these clauses… to actually protect Teacher Xi Jisheng?”

Lou Ningyu did not deny it. “Once public opinion spirals out of control, she will be the one hurt most deeply. She is a powerhouse actress, but her fan base isn’t as large as mine. If people say she’s ‘relying on a senior’s charity for resources,’ the reputation she’s built over these years will be ruined.”

“But you will bear more pressure this way,” Sister Chen frowned. “Everyone will think you forced her into the collaboration, that you downgraded your status to perform, that you—”

“So what?” Lou Ningyu interrupted. “I’m thirty; I’m not afraid of a bad reputation. But she’s different. She cares too much about what others think. She finds it too easy to take all the responsibility onto herself.”

She remembered the Xi Jisheng of seven years ago. That fool who always silently bore everything, even using “it’s for your own good” as an excuse for a breakup.

This time, Lou Ningyu would not let her face the storm alone.

“Post it exactly like this,” she decided with a final word. “At 8:00 PM sharp, make the official announcement.”