The Fake Daughter is a Max-Level Green Tea [Transmigrated into a Book] - Chapter 46

Chapter 46: A Trap Within a Trap

Lu Chaoqing: “…”

She spent thirty seconds processing the information, then another thirty seconds confirming that Lin Chumu truly had no other motive than purely despising her acting skills. After that, she blinked, steeled herself, and prepared to lean in for a kiss under the camera’s gaze—only to be pushed away by the clearly unimpressed woman.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Lin Chumu, seemingly expecting it, went to answer. Her lifestyle assistant stood outside, holding a thick wool blanket. She didn’t enter; she simply handed the blanket over and left immediately.

Lu Chaoqing instantly remembered Lin Chumu sleeping on the sofa the previous night. She spoke up quickly: “I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight, you take the bed. Or I can just go back to my own room—it’s right next door anyway!”

Lin Chumu: “Doesn’t your assistant have your room key?”

Lu Chaoqing: “…Oh.”

A tactical error. She should have gotten the key back from her assistant earlier.

Ever since the bugging incident, she had become much more cautious. She had repeatedly asked the System to keep an eye out to ensure no hidden cameras were invading their privacy. However, she had no way of knowing who among the unfamiliar faces on set was good or bad; she didn’t even dare to fully trust her own assistant anymore.

Young people loved staying up late, so her assistant was likely still awake, but Lu Chaoqing didn’t want to risk disturbing anyone. She had no choice but to curl up on the bed. Once she was mentally prepared, she beckoned Lin Chumu over.

Wearing slippers, the woman walked slowly to the bedside. When Lu Chaoqing closed her eyes and reached out to pull her closer by the back of her head, Lin Chumu shrugged her off. The girl’s soft fingertips only managed to graze the cool skin of her nape before sliding down.

Lin Chumu kept her head down, her expression obscured. The corners of her mouth flickered upward for a fraction of a second before flattening into a serious line.

In truth, her suggestion to have the “Little Green Tea” practice intimate scenes for the camera wasn’t driven by ulterior motives; she genuinely felt the girl’s acting in that department was lacking. But the moment those fingertips touched her skin, a primal instinct—one Lin Chumu was surprised to find suppressed deep within her—began to quietly expand.

Though the chatterbox Little Green Tea was sometimes annoying and a bit of a schemer, her current state of flustered helplessness was indescribably cute.

Suppreasing a smile, Lin Chumu spoke slowly and deliberately, staring at Lu Chaoqing with a solemn face: “I asked you to practice acting, not to actually kiss me.”

The Little Green Tea looked genuinely bewildered. She knelt on the other side of the bed, limbs tucked in, caught in a state of neither advancing nor retreating. She paused awkwardly, peeking at Lin Chumu’s expression.

After a few seconds of stalemate, Lin Chumu took the initiative to close the already small gap. Ignoring the girl’s flustered look, she hooked an arm around her neck and brought her face close—but she didn’t initiate a passionate kiss. Instead, she hovered at an ambiguous distance, just a hair’s breadth away from touching.

Lu Chaoqing’s face flushed a deep crimson. Although Lin Chumu wasn’t using much force, she didn’t try to pull away.

The woman smelled wonderful. It wasn’t the perfume Lu Chaoqing usually liked, but a fresh body wash fragrance. The scent was transitioning from an elegant, rich middle note to a clean, pleasant base note. The subtle fragrance of magnolia lingered at the tip of her nose, faint yet unmistakable.

The proximity felt like a silent invitation. If she moved just a fraction more, she could touch Lin Chumu’s full lips. Those lips, still slightly damp from the water, looked like pale red petals moistened by morning dew. Their breaths, shallow and deep, fanned across each other’s ears and faces.

Lu Chaoqing held eye contact with Lin Chumu almost completely entranced. A thin layer of pink bloomed on her fair cheeks; even without physical contact, she felt slightly lightheaded. After an unknown amount of time, Lin Chumu let out a soft chuckle and pulled back, leaning against the headboard.

“You can’t do this in front of a camera. You need to work on your composure.”

For an actor, kissing is part of the job. Even if a kiss is faked via camera angles, there are other intimate scenes to handle—unless one plans to never act in a romance again. Lu Chaoqing either struggled to immerse herself or would zone out; she definitely needed practice, and Lin Chumu wasn’t lying about that.

But as soon as she finished speaking, Lu Chaoqing pouted, let out a muffled huff, and dove under the covers, burying her face completely. She petulantly kicked the professional acting book off the bed. From beneath the quilt came a muffled retort: “I just can’t practice with you!”

She truly had no resistance against Lin Chumu’s face. If it were someone whose looks weren’t her type, or someone she didn’t know well, she could probably pull it off in a heartbeat.

Lu Chaoqing muttered: “I’ll go find Sister Qiuqi next time.”

Lin Chumu, who had been happily teasing the girl and was about to turn off the light, paused. “Fang Qiuqi has a boyfriend.”

“I know! Running lines isn’t the same as dating! Qiao Shuo can’t be so petty that he gets jealous over her practicing a scene with another girl, right?”

Lin Chumu: “…Then go right ahead.”

Lu Chaoqing grumbled “I’ll go tomorrow” and went silent. A moment later, steady breathing came from beside her; she had completely forgotten her earlier plan to sleep on the sofa. This time, Lin Chumu didn’t go to the sofa either. She simply covered herself with the wool blanket, tucked the quilt around Lu Chaoqing, and made sure her exposed feet were covered.

As the sky was just beginning to turn grey, a sharp scream and frantic barking shattered the peace of the film set. Some crew members were just starting to set up the morning scenes. The massive commotion woke almost everyone up. Lu Chaoqing, a light sleeper, sat up instantly and nudged Lin Chumu, who had also just opened her eyes.

The story featured a dog belonging to the male and female leads—a small, fluffy, white Chinese rural dog named “Pudding” who was adored by everyone. When people rushed over, they found Pudding, who should have been eating his dog food breakfast, barking furiously in one direction, ignoring his overturned plastic bowl.

Though common, Chinese rural dogs are naturally sharp and excellent guard dogs. Pudding was usually well-behaved and never barked without reason. To be this agitated, there had to be a cause. Unfortunately, where the dog was tied was a blind spot for the security cameras.

“Pudding, hey, little Pudding!”

Fang Qiuqi, who was closest to the dog, crouched down and gently stroked his back, trying to calm him. Pudding settled slightly under her touch, but his sharp eyes remained fixed on the path leading to the school gate.

Seeing that he wouldn’t fully calm down and kept pacing with his tail stiff, Qiao Shuo scanned the area. “A thief?”

The suggestion caused a stir. The crew members immediately began discussing who had been up early. The actors had all been sleeping, so if there was an intruder or a thief, it was likely someone among the staff. Everyone wanted to clear their name, and everyone felt the dog’s sudden aggression was highly suspicious.

Panic spread like an invisible mist. Lu Chaoqing instinctively looked at Lin Chumu. When their eyes met, both immediately thought of the bug.

To plant a bug on them without a trace, someone needed a chance for close contact. On a busy set, people are constantly moving around. It wouldn’t just be an assistant; it could be a makeup artist, a logistics staffer, or even another actor.

The director, alerted by the noise, arrived on the scene. His face paled after hearing Qiao Shuo’s suggestion.

Ji Xiuyuan was always very concerned about the safety of his cast and crew. He had personally sourced this dog and knew it had no behavioral issues; the probability of an intruder was high. He paced around but found no footprints, so he frowned and had his assistant call everyone together for a roll call.

“The only way is to let everyone stand in front of Pudding and let him sniff them,” the assistant director said anxiously. “Pudding is barking at the crowd. If someone stole something, he’ll definitely react. I’ll hold the leash. You all take turns standing in front of him. Please don’t take offense; we all want to know what happened. Once the dog clears you, you can go back to work. It won’t take long.”

He said everyone, meaning no one was exempt—not even the director or the leads. But because the assistant director was generally fair, everyone agreed readily.

The line formed. The director and leads went first; these were largely a formality, as everyone knew they hadn’t been near the dog. As each person passed, the dog showed no unusual reaction, remaining merely a bit agitated but not aggressive.

Lu Chaoqing didn’t leave after her turn. She and Lin Chumu watched intently as each person was tested. But even after most people had finished and gone back to their tasks, the dog hadn’t reacted to anyone.

Near the end, a young woman walked past. Pudding’s little tail began to wag; he nipped at her pant leg and licked her shoes, looking very happy. The girl smiled and leaned down to pat his fluffy head.

Once everyone had passed, Pudding showed zero suspicious reactions and eventually calmed down completely.

“Director, maybe the dog just saw a cat or another dog run in and got excited? The school gate is huge; it’s normal for animals to wander in. Are we overreacting?”

A lighting technician shrugged helplessly. Just as Ji Xiuyuan was about to tell the assistant director to unleash the dog so it could finish eating, Lin Chumu frowned. She suddenly set off with long strides toward the school gate.