The Movie Queen's Virtual Little Girlfriend - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Photos

Shen Si was not on Xia Yang’s invitation list, so she had no choice but to head back to the hotel alone.

She had originally intended to have a driver pick Jiang Yitong up once things were nearly finished, but Fang Qing, an actress in the same crew, offered to take Jiang Yitong back.

Fang Qing explained that this wasn’t a burden for her, she was staying at the same hotel as Jiang Yitong, so taking her back was on the way—very convenient.

Jiang Yitong had always been someone who believed in reciprocity, she wouldn’t owe anyone anything. Since Fang Qing was taking her back and forth this time, she would repay her later—not necessarily by driving her, but perhaps by treating her to a meal or helping her with some other request.

The benefit of this was, first, saving time; and second, because Fang Qing was neither particularly famous nor had many fans in the entertainment industry, when she drove past Jiang Yitong’s fans, they likely wouldn’t give her car a second glance. This allowed her to smoothly enter the parking lot behind the hotel and bring Jiang Yitong in through the back entrance.

Jiang Yitong didn’t think too much of it; her thoughts stopped at convenience and time-saving. Only Fang Qing thought a step further.

So secretive, yet so thrilling—doesn’t this look like a couple sneaking into a hotel to avoid fans and paparazzi?

Outside the windows, the city lights flickered; vehicles kept brushing past, and pedestrians kept retreating. Amidst the shifting light and shadows, everything before Jiang Yitong’s eyes became illusory.

The car windows were tightly shut, and the interior was unusually quiet. Neither the person in the driver’s seat nor the person in the back seat spoke first.

The atmosphere was heavy. Fang Qing opened her lips several times, but stopped herself each time, never finding a suitable topic to strike up a conversation with Jiang Yitong.

She knew, of course, that if she brought up the script, she would definitely get a response from Jiang Yitong, and they could talk about that. But this was life outside of work; she didn’t want to talk about those mundane topics—it was meaningless.

And based on Jiang Yitong’s personality, she was even less likely to speak first.

Once, she participated in an activity where the flight path took her from the southernmost point of the country to the far north. During the entire eight-hour flight, Feng Man never heard her speak a single word.

She slept for a short while on the plane, which made silence understandable. For the rest of the time, she was awake, ate lunch for ten minutes, and read for a long time during which Feng Man never heard her speak.

Bored and wanting to chat, Feng Man had no choice but to talk to Shen Si, who was sitting on the other side. Unfortunately, Shen Si wasn’t a particularly interesting person either; chatting with her rarely went beyond two or three exchanges.

Jiang Yitong’s dullness, however, was different from Shen Si’s. At least Jiang Yitong’s dullness could spark Feng Man’s competitive spirit—after all, her lack of interest could always leave one speechless, and who didn’t want to leave her at a loss for words just once?

When getting off the plane, Feng Man couldn’t help but give Jiang Yitong a thumbs up, offering a genuinely sincere compliment: “You’re the best. You’ve truly perfected the phrase ‘silence is golden’.”

Although those around her felt it most deeply, the internet also knew of Jiang Yitong’s usual quietness.

Fang Qing was one of those netizens, and moreover, she had been around Jiang Yitong for some time lately. She racked her brain trying to think of a topic that would keep them talking until they reached their destination.

She began to feel annoyed at her own lack of eloquence; her inner monologue was rich, but her mouth was clumsy.

The road from the film set to the KTV Xia Yang booked wasn’t long—only about fifteen minutes by car. Now, at least seven or eight minutes had already passed; they were getting closer and closer to their destination.

“Teacher Jiang, we’re almost there.”

A voice from the front row broke the stillness. Jiang Yitong, who had been sitting stiff and motionless, finally moved.

She slowly withdrew her gaze from the window and lowered her head to illuminate her phone screen to check the time.

A little past nine o’clock—they were nearly an hour late. Fortunately, Fang Qing said they were almost there, so it wasn’t too late.

Beneath the time, she saw a few notifications she hadn’t had a chance to check yet. One was still a game notification, showing Jiang Er greeting her, asking if she was off work and if her entire day of work had gone smoothly.

The screen’s light shone into her eyes; her gaze remained quiet, without a ripple of disturbance. She didn’t open the game, nor did she reply to Jiang Er directly through the notification. She continued to scroll down calmly, and was caught off guard when another message captured her attention.

It was a Weibo alert, notifying her that a mutual friend had tagged her.

She followed very few people on Weibo—only a few dozen. Regarding socializing, she hadn’t communicated with anyone except Feng Man recently. Who would be tagging her at a time like this?

First, she could rule out crew colleagues. They had a group chat, and for those she had more scenes with, they had exchanged WeChats, but she wasn’t mutually following any of them on Weibo.

Guessing was useless; it was better to just click and see for herself.

So, Jiang Yitong clicked in and saw that unfathomable Weibo post.

Jiang Er: “Today’s beautiful fragments. [Photos]x9 @Jiang Yitong”

She didn’t rush to check the content; just the username alone made it difficult for Jiang Yitong to determine whether she was still in the real world.

It felt like her own mental state was having some issues. This was the second time she had seen a Weibo post from Jiang Er. All of this should have been a hallucination, something that shouldn’t exist in this world.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them a few seconds later, the content before her eyes remained unchanged. She stared at the text with a blank expression.

Looking at the thumbnails, most of the nine photos Jiang Er shared were landscapes, interspersed with two photos of herself.

Jiang Yitong noticed that both of these photos were taken by someone else, not selfies. This raised another question: who helped Jiang Er take them? But then she laughed at herself for being muddled—there was no such photographer; the photos must have been produced by the game company.

Since that was the case, she clicked to view the full images, observing them carefully as she swiped through them one by one.

The scenery in the photos included the sky, plants, and a few buildings with a retro style. Jiang Er’s photos were in the last two positions.

Both were long shots. In one, she stood on the roadside, her body almost pressing against a nearby signpost; no pedestrians were captured in the frame. She smiled softly at the camera alone, and one could faintly see the tiny dimples at the corners of her lips. In the photo, she wore a white long dress and a small, light-brown crossbody bag, her slightly wavy long hair falling down—her temperament was ethereal.

Jiang Yitong saw clearly that the signpost was labeled “Chang’an Alley.”

In the other photo, Jiang Er stood in the middle of an empty road, wearing the same outfit. She had spread her slender arms like a bird about to take flight, its feathers as white as snow.

All nine photos looked very real. To someone like Jiang Yitong, who didn’t know the industry, the texture certainly looked like real photography.

She exited back to the thumbnails and saw there were no comments on this post, but Jiang Er had tagged her, clearly expecting a response.

Jiang Yitong, however, had no intention of leaving a comment; she simply clicked on Jiang Er’s Weibo profile again.

“Teacher Jiang, we’re here.”

The sudden voice inside the car broke the eerie silence once more. Jiang Yitong looked up to confirm if the person in the driver’s seat was also part of an illusion.

“What’s wrong, Teacher Jiang? Why…are you staring at me like that?”

Fang Qing had spoken earlier, but failed to get a response from Jiang Yitong. Now, the deep, searching look in Jiang Yitong’s eyes left her puzzled.

She acted confused, but inside, her heart was churning. She felt as if the other party’s gaze was wrapped in too many complex emotions. She privately assumed this was Jiang Yitong’s subtle hint to her, and now she was just waiting for herself to interpret it correctly.

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