The Movie Queen's Virtual Little Girlfriend - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: New Year

 

The reason the screen lit up had nothing to do with news or gossip.

 

It was another notification from that game. Jiang Er had messaged at the stroke of midnight to formally wish her a “Happy New Year, Yitong.” A minute later, she sent another message asking if she had seen the New Year’s fireworks.

 

Jiang Yitong frowned, a sense of revulsion rising within her, a feeling that her privacy had been encroached upon.

 

She had indeed watched the fireworks, but it had been less than a minute ago. Jiang Er seemed to have glimpsed her actions, prompting such a question.

 

Having felt that psychological discomfort, she had no intention of answering.

 

She clicked into the game, facing Jiang Er, who was sitting up in bed.

 

Jiang Er had originally been lying down, but upon seeing Jiang Yitong, she sat up immediately. The movements of her getting up and brushing back her long hair were fully captured in Jiang Yitong’s view.

 

Jiang Yitong simply watched her silently, saying nothing.

 

Only Jiang Er, clearly programmed not to let a silence persist between her and the player, even if she was effectively performing a “monologue”, spoke.

 

“Yitong, I just heard the sound of fireworks outside. It’s wonderful. Everyone is celebrating the New Year. It’s a pity the place where they’re setting them off is too far from me. I pulled back the curtains and found I could only see tiny, tiny sparks.”

 

“I missed this opportunity this year, but I don’t know if you saw the fireworks. If you did, were they beautiful? They must have been very, very beautiful…”

 

“If you didn’t, let’s watch them together next year.”

 

Her expression was so sincere, waiting for a response from Jiang Yitong.

 

Jiang Er’s explanation made sense to Jiang Yitong, and the doubts in her heart were largely dispelled. She knew this was another moment to play her role well.

 

She had to act at work and act in life. If someone asked her if she was tired, she wouldn’t answer, but she had an answer in her heart.

 

As of now, it wasn’t tiring, and there was even a bit of fun in it. As for when she would eventually grow weary, she didn’t know, but there would inevitably come a day when she would uninstall the game out of sheer boredom.

 

Well, she would worry about that when it happened. In any case, Jiang Yitong had always been someone who lived in the present.

 

Jiang Yitong: Good.

 

Just that one word, “Good”—it didn’t even reveal Jiang Yitong’s mood, yet Jiang Er treated it like a treasure, her joy fully displayed on her face. “Good, it’s a deal.”

 

Jiang Yitong: Hmm, it’s a deal. We’ll go to the north to admire the snow together, and watch the fireworks together on the next New Year’s Eve.

 

Some things, even if agreed upon, were useless. It wasn’t a promise she couldn’t keep, but rather a promise she couldn’t possibly fulfill.

 

One was a living person in reality, the other was a virtual NPC in a game, made of cold code. To imagine her stepping out of the screen and appearing in the real world was pure fantasy.

 

“Yitong, in the new year, is there anything you haven’t done before but want to accomplish this year?”

 

Jiang Er spoke suddenly, once again preventing the atmosphere from growing cold.

 

Jiang Yitong sat down, leaning against the sofa, and replied, “No.”

 

“That’s okay if you don’t. Perhaps it will suddenly pop up inadvertently later on. There will always be things one wants to accomplish, because of a person, or because of an event.”

 

Jiang Er’s tone was sweet, yet she was so earnest. The light from the bedside lamp fell into her eyes, as if the light were flowing from the depths of her soul.

 

Jiang Yitong had to admit that her eyes were truly expressive and beautiful; it seemed as if the most authentic soul resided within them.

 

Such technology was shocking, yet when one thought about it carefully, it was equally terrifying.

 

Jiang Yitong: Good. If you say it will happen, then it will happen.

 

Jiang Er smiled, still as brilliant as flowers swaying lightly in the spring breeze.

 

Jiang Yitong had a regular sleep schedule. Staying up late for once made it impossible to fall asleep.

 

Approaching 1:00 AM, she felt no drowsiness. She lay flat on her bed, staring at the pitch-black ceiling. She didn’t dwell on anything, simply letting her mind go blank.

 

After a while, for some reason, a voice—a sentence—inexplicably drilled into Jiang Yitong’s ears, lingering in her mind and repeating several times.

 

Is there anything you haven’t done before but want to accomplish this year…

 

Jiang Yitong thought about it carefully; there really wasn’t.

 

Even if there were, it would only be related to acting. Apart from film and television, she couldn’t muster the slightest interest in anything else.

 

Her life was destined this way; she would live and breathe for this industry her entire life.

 

As for getting along with others, she had always believed that in this world, people came and went; there was no one who would be her friend forever. She didn’t believe anyone in this circle genuinely wanted to be her friend.

 

Perhaps someone did, but the probability was minuscule. If they wanted to be her friend, what were they after? Her personality? Or her resources?

 

As for falling in love, although she had thought about trying it, it was clear under the current circumstances that there would be no results. It would just be like acting a scene with someone, and in the end, no one would benefit.

 

Yet strangely, after she uninstalled the game, she would inexplicably miss those pure eyes and that smile.

 

Perhaps it was because she had seen too few such clean, smiling eyes to date, so this unique feeling was inadvertently etched into her memory.

 

Jiang Yitong didn’t know how she eventually fell asleep. When she woke up, the time was exactly her usual wake-up time.

 

The first day of the New Year, everything was the same as usual.

 

She got out of bed in silence, washed up, changed clothes, went downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast, then accompanied her manager and assistant to the set to have her makeup done, change into costumes, wait for her turn, and film.

 

These were all the activities of her day after joining the crew, repetitive and monotonous, yet she loved it and enjoyed it.

 

“Your state doesn’t look too good today. This isn’t like you.”

 

While the van was on the road, Feng Man scrutinized Jiang Yitong’s face for a moment before finally blurting it out.

 

She knew the excellent sleep habits of the person in front of her better than anyone; she even admired them immensely. For all these years, as far as she could see, there had never been a day of variation. But today, she felt Jiang Yitong was somewhat off.

 

Jiang Yitong was reading the script. Her gaze swept over a line of dialogue, which suddenly paused when she heard Feng Man speak.

 

She didn’t look up at Feng Man, maintaining her posture of holding the script, and asked faintly, “Then what should I be like?”

 

She didn’t look like she really wanted an answer, more like she was asking casually, just to respond to Feng Man so her words didn’t fall flat.

 

Feng Man replied with a question: “So you went to ring in the New Year last night? A rare change of character?”

 

To be precise, her tone wasn’t like a question, but rather a direct charge, truly believing Jiang Yitong had gone out last night, speaking as if Jiang Yitong had actually gone to celebrate, attempting to “hypnotize” her.

 

Jiang Yitong was only sleep-deprived; she wasn’t foolish. She remained clear-headed, her expression never wavering, and she answered calmly, “I watched a movie until twelve o’clock. Does that count as ringing in the New Year?”

 

“Alright… it doesn’t.” Feng Man asked again, “Then what did you do after finishing the movie?”

 

Feng Man was annoyed that Jiang Yitong was always stubbornly unchanging; this made life lose too much joy. Approaching thirty, the previous twenty-plus years were already set in stone—would she continue to live this way for the next few decades?

 

She knew that every time, she was being meddlesome. Jiang Yitong’s life was her own; truthfully, she shouldn’t say more, but she couldn’t resist wanting Jiang Yitong to see a broader world.

 

Life was not just about acting.

 

Jiang Yitong: “I slept.”

 

“You’re really boring… but your state today is definitely off. Didn’t sleep well?” Feng Man hit the nail on the head, appearing determined to get to the bottom of it today.

 

Jiang Yitong had to admit that Feng Man was always observant. She had applied light makeup this morning to cover the faint dark circles under her eyes, partly because she didn’t want the fans blocking the hotel door to worry, and partly because she didn’t want to hear Feng Man nag.

 

Jiang Yitong: “Yes.”

 

“What are you thinking about? Anxious about turning thirty?” Feng Man probed.

 

Jiang Yitong finally had a slightly larger reaction, though it was brief, just a slight start, then she closed the script, leaned back fully against the chair, moved her gaze to the ceiling of the car, and replied lightly, “You can take it as such.”

 

“Or maybe I couldn’t sleep because of the noise of the fireworks.”

 

Jiang Yitong added another sentence, her meaning unclear.

 

Her voice was very low, more like she was saying it to herself.

 

Such an ambiguous answer, especially with the “smoke bomb” she threw out afterward—not knowing if it was intentional, instead gave Feng Man a definitive answer.

 

But at the same time, she was puzzled.

 

She knew Jiang Yitong wasn’t worried or afraid of turning thirty; she never felt anxious about the passing years. But beyond that, she definitely had something else hidden in her heart.

 

So, what could it be…Feng Man couldn’t even make a guess and had to temporarily attribute the cause to filming issues.

 

For those things about Jiang Yitong that she couldn’t guess or figure out, if she couldn’t get an answer, she would simply pin the blame on the script.

 

Jiang Yitong closed her eyes, using the remaining six or seven minutes to grab a short nap, but her mind didn’t stop thinking, filled with content related to today’s shoot.

 

It was as if her brain was fitted with a perpetual motion machine; once a script was shoved inside, it started moving endlessly. Even though she knew she was tired, she wouldn’t let it stop.

 

At 7:30, Jiang Yitong sat in front of the vanity mirror while the crew’s makeup artist, Little Yan, was diligently applying her makeup.

 

The phone on the table vibrated twice, and as the screen lit up, Jiang Yitong’s gaze drifted to the game notification.

 

Instant Notification: Received a message from “A Grain of Red Bean”: Good morning, Yitong.

 

Little Yan unintentionally looked toward the direction of the light, saw a blur, and quickly looked away.

 

There was probably no one who wouldn’t want to take a look at the content on a big star’s phone. She was incredibly curious, but fortunately, she suppressed the urge to peek in time.

 

She was also worried she might see some shocking inside story, which would become a nagging lump in her heart.

 

Jiang Yitong picked up the phone and followed the notification to open it. The screen faced her but was also blatantly exposed before Little Yan.

 

Little Yan couldn’t resist the temptation after all and sneaked a look. She witnessed Jiang Yitong’s phone interface jump to a game’s loading page.

 

She couldn’t tell what kind of game it was, but she could confirm it was indeed a game.

 

Big stars played games too—that wasn’t enough to surprise her, but Jiang Yitong, this big star, was very different from others.

 

Everyone knew that Jiang Yitong almost never touched her phone on set, let alone played games. While fake news flew wildly on the internet, there was one absolutely true fact that people on their crew could verify: Jiang Yitong was an acting fanatic who maintained an extremely indifferent attitude toward everything else.

 

But now, what was before Little Yan was Jiang Yitong playing a game. She found it quite incredible.

 

What shocked her even more was the game itself.

 

She sneaked a glance from time to time and saw the candy-colored background on the screen. The Live2D virtual character in front of the background swayed slightly, her lips opening and closing as if she were saying something to Jiang Yitong on the other side of the screen.

 

So, Jiang Yitong was playing…a cultivation game?

 

Little Yan’s eyes widened slightly, a thought popping into her mind.

 

And looking at the character’s image, if it wasn’t raising a daughter, or a role-playing cultivation game, then it could only be… a dating sim. In any case, it had to be one of the three.

 

Struggling to suppress her pounding heart, Little Yan tried her best to steady her breathing, at least ensuring her unusual expression wouldn’t be discovered by Jiang Yitong.

 

She felt like she had…truly glimpsed an unknown secret of Jiang Yitong. Excitement, nervousness, and suspicion followed one after another, and these emotions mixed together, making her want to scream.

 

This contrast, which completely conflicted with Jiang Yitong’s public image, let her see a brand-new side of the other party, and she greedily wanted to dig deeper.

 

Discussing the gossip of big stars was always the most exciting part of their day.

 

Jiang Yitong didn’t turn on the volume. She couldn’t hear Jiang Er’s voice and could only rely on the dialogue box appearing at the bottom of the screen to understand what the other party was saying.

 

They were nothing more than “Happy New Year,” “Happy New Year’s Day,” or “Yitong, I miss you.” There wouldn’t be anything novel.

 

Without Jiang Er’s gentle, sweet tone and sincere emotional expression, these words were truly pale when conveyed through text. Jiang Yitong glanced at them coldly, and when she looked up, she happened to see Jiang Er’s smiling face.