The Movie Queen's Virtual Little Girlfriend - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Ringing in the New Year

Unlike the bustling atmosphere in the city center or other places, the New Year’s Eve for the Proud Snow production crew was dull and unremarkable. It was no different from any other night; the crew members remained busy, diligently staying at their respective posts without the slightest hint of festive energy.

Before the last scene of the night began, Fang Qing sat beside Jiang Yitong for a while. Between practicing lines, Fang Qing found an opportunity to ask where she was spending New Year’s Eve.

Jiang Yitong replied that she wasn’t going anywhere; she would just be resting at the hotel.

This answer undoubtedly gave Fang Qing a second chance. She immediately seized it, asking if Jiang Yitong would be willing to go out for a walk and see the New Year’s Eve festivities.

Unfortunately, Fang Qing had the self-awareness to know that while there was an opportunity, it was incredibly slim. The possibility of Jiang Yitong changing her original plans to accept her invitation was minuscule.

She was not Jiang Yitong’s close friend, so she had no leverage to sway her.

She didn’t know if such a friend existed in Jiang Yitong’s life. She hoped there wasn’t, yet she hoped there was.

If there was one, that person had to be her. If that person wasn’t her, then she could not allow such a person to exist.

Facts were facts. Almost without a second thought, Jiang Yitong politely declined Fang Qing’s invitation.

The atmosphere on set briefly fell into a suffocating silence. Jiang Yitong was silent, and Fang Qing was silent as well; aside from their lines, there were no other topics they could discuss.

They each had their own thoughts. Jiang Yitong was still contemplating the scene about to be filmed, while the latter’s mind had flown off to Jiang Yitong herself—one focused, the other conflicted.

It wasn’t until Jiang Yitong brought her back to reality that she regained her focus and continued rehearsing with her.

Jiang Yitong didn’t know why Fang Qing was always zoning out. To say she didn’t care wouldn’t be entirely true, but what she cared about only related to the acting.

The play was paramount. She didn’t want to see anyone around her delay their progress due to personal reasons.

Approaching nine o’clock, the final scene of the day was finally wrapped.

Many people had long been restless, unable to suppress the raging fire in their hearts, eagerly hoping for the director to call “cut.”

For an employee, every “cut” was the happiest proclamation. For Jiang Yitong, it was a reminder that her fulfilling day was drawing to a close.

Thus, it was her turn to ask herself: Are you satisfied with your day? Did you give your one hundred percent?

On the lively New Year’s Eve, by ten o’clock, Jiang Yitong had already heard the sound of fireworks blooming from inside her hotel room, but everything outside was clearly unrelated to her.

She finished her daily review and sat alone on the sofa to watch a two-hour movie. The time would just cross midnight, entering the new year in an unremarkable way.

The New Year and the old year seemed vastly different—one was past, the other was impending, but to Jiang Yitong, it was merely a change in words; in substance, there was no difference.

The film had begun. Jiang Yitong covered herself with a thin blanket, leaning against the sofa, watching the changing images on the screen expressionlessly.

Her face was clearly just calm and expressionless, but it looked more like a cold face, as chilly as a block of stubborn ice that no one could melt.

She sat there quietly, radiating an “approach at your own risk” aura. The heater was on in the room, and the temperature was just right, yet she appeared cold all over, exuding a chill that made one’s hair stand on end.

The movie was long and paced slowly. When it reached the twenty-minute mark, Jiang Yitong still hadn’t entered the zone; she temporarily found it uninteresting.

She knew the films produced by this studio were always like this—the first half was always so flat it made one sleepy, and it was only from the middle section that the climax began, making one unable to look away. Thus, no matter how flat the narrative of the first half was, Jiang Yitong always watched it through, wanting to understand the origins of the story first.

The movie entered the next phase. The two leads, who had met at a bar less than three hours ago, chatted their way from the bar to the hotel and were now tangled in bed, the screen overflowing with sensuality.

From the flat narrative to the alluring scenes before her, there wasn’t the slightest ripple on Jiang Yitong’s face. It was more like she was coldly watching a performance; the strenuous passion in the film was as bland as water in her eyes.

The phone on the coffee table in front of her suddenly vibrated, and the screen lit up. Noticing this, she lowered her gaze for a brief glance and clearly saw the message.

It was a game notification, reminding her that Jiang Er had greeted her and sent a New Year’s Eve blessing.

Jiang Yitong initially had no intention of paying attention to it. After glancing away indifferently, she quickly looked back at the phone, which had already gone dark.

In the movie, the two leads were still lingering—bodies intertwined, whispers exchanged—an uninteresting routine of unknown duration.

Against this backdrop, Jiang Yitong picked up her phone and lightly tapped the screen to open the game from the notification bar.

After a loading time of only a second or two, the upper body of Jiang Er appeared on the interface.

Upon seeing Jiang Yitong, she had a momentary flash of surprise, her brows rising slightly, but soon there was a light in her eyes, and all her emotions were replaced by surprise.

“Yitong, you’re here.”

Listening to Jiang Er’s voice, Jiang Yitong suddenly thought of a description: “dancing notes.”

Jiang Er’s voice was naturally like notes, and her jubilant tone seemed to be leaping as well.

Her emotions were always inexplicably infectious, at least… more comfortable than the bed scene in the movie that hadn’t yet ended on the TV screen.

Jiang Yitong didn’t respond, looking silently at Jiang Er.

“What are you doing, Yitong?” Jiang Er asked.

Jiang Yitong still didn’t respond, looking up at the TV screen—the two leads had ended their intimacy, and the scene had shifted to the next day.

Receiving no response, Jiang Er’s smile didn’t diminish in the slightest, and she continued on her own, “Right now, it’s December 31st, 10:43 PM. The last day of this year. Less than an hour and a half left until we head into next year…Yitong, I’ve gained a lot this year.”

When she mentioned this specific time, Jiang Yitong’s gaze drifted toward the top of the screen, confirming it matched her current time exactly, without error.

When talking about her gains, Jiang Er’s eyes brightened. Her background appeared to be a sofa, which matched Jiang Yitong’s current situation.

“This year, my work went smoothly, and I got along very well with the children. Although there were times I felt exhausted, Yitong, do you know? Every time I see the children’s smiling faces, I feel happy from the bottom of my heart.”

“However, the most important gain this year was meeting you.”

“Although we can’t meet and can only chat through video calls, I know you have always been by my side, and we are accompanying each other. I feel really happy and lucky.”

At the emotional part, Jiang Yitong saw Jiang Er’s eyes moisten, shimmering with crystalline light.

She had moved herself, but what did these things she said have to do with Jiang Yitong? Jiang Yitong, without such experiences, couldn’t empathize with her mood, nor could she feel the happiness the other party spoke of.

From start to finish, her expression hadn’t changed once. She was just indifferently watching this “performance,” unable to get into the role.

Reviewing the year’s events, Jiang Er then spoke of her expectations for the coming year, “Yitong, I hope we can meet more often next year. We can travel together and do many things together.”

Meet…

This was an impossible thing to achieve, but just like before, Jiang Yitong played her role well, telling Jiang Er that her wishes would come true—as long as she wished for them, they would all come true.

In the film, the plot continued to develop; on the phone screen, Jiang Er’s words continued as well.

“Yitong, are you still busy? If not, I want to spend the next hour of countdown with you, ringing in the new year together…”

Jiang Yitong, however, had no time or inclination to continue listening to Jiang Er. Before the other party could finish her sentence, she immediately exited the game and placed the phone back on the coffee table.

It was as if everything that had just happened hadn’t occurred. She hadn’t stopped watching the movie and hadn’t done anything else.

Before midnight, the movie ended. As she rose from the sofa, a dull, thunderous vibration pierced through the floor-to-ceiling window of her room, sounding suddenly in her ears.

At that moment, it was as if the sky had been shattered. A light pierced the air, pierced the clouds, and bloomed into short-lived sparks in the night sky.

These were all blocked outside the window. Jiang Yitong couldn’t see them, nor did she have much interest.

But she knew that the fulfilling and busy last year had passed just like that; everything was already in the past, permanently staying in that year. She had reached the new year, and this year there would be new works and new roles, and at the same time, she would encounter new directors, new screenwriters, and new colleagues.

She would encounter many new things, but her attitude toward life remained the same as always.

The sound of fireworks rising and blooming outside the window continued to ring. After pondering for barely a second, Jiang Yitong raised her eyes again and walked slowly to the floor-to-ceiling window.

She pulled the curtains open a little, just in time to see a burst of splendor tearing through the void.

The gorgeous light reflected on the glass window, slightly illuminating one side of her cheek.

Her face was half-lit and half-shadowed, sunken into the darkness, her expression calm—she seemed to feel no joy at the beautiful scenery before her.

She stood silent, watching the fireworks light up and extinguish, fleeting in an instant.

This minute passed extremely quickly. The last cluster of fireworks had also bloomed and vanished with great speed. Before Jiang Yitong’s eyes remained only the cold, bright lights of the nearby and distant skyscrapers.

The light reflected in the depths of her eyes like cold moonlight falling on a gloomy sea, adding only a sense of loneliness.

Jiang Yitong pulled the curtains shut tightly, not letting a single ray of light through. As she turned to walk back, her phone on the coffee table in front of her lit up again.

She didn’t pay any attention, assuming it was just some news notification popping up, and walked over to take a casual look.

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