The Paranoid Film Queen Hooked Me, and I Fell in Love - Chapter 53

The three of them carried their supplies and made their way to a plot of land not far behind the house. Compared to the surrounding rice paddies, this patch stood out—it was clearly unused, overgrown with weeds, and looked completely desolate.

“So this is the vegetable garden the production team mentioned.”

Xu Zhiyan set down the hoe from her shoulder and walked a couple of laps around the undeveloped plot.

Early that morning, after breakfast, the production team had announced two new tasks: one was to clear land and start a vegetable garden, and the other was to help local villagers harvest their crops. The six of them were to split into two teams of three, each team assigned to a different task.

Upon completion, they would receive material rewards. Especially the vegetable garden—if successful, it could even help them become self-sufficient.

Since there were only two male cast members, and participation was voluntary, it ended up being Xu Zhiyan, Shen Buhui, and Qi Helin who were assigned to develop the garden.

So here they were, carrying hoes, buckets of water, fertilizer, and vegetable seedlings, standing at the edge of the undeveloped land.

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this today?” Xu Zhiyan asked quietly, concern in her eyes.

Shen Buhui shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not feeling unwell today.”

With that, she crouched down to distribute the tools.

Seeing this, Xu Zhiyan let out a small sigh of relief, determined to keep a close eye on her throughout the task.

They quickly divided up the work—each one took a hoe and began tilling the soil.

Qi Helin had initially planned to stick close to Xu Zhiyan, but just as he was about to walk over, he noticed that she and Shen Buhui were already side by side, inseparable as ever, working together.

He gritted his teeth. Seriously, what was with these two? They were glued together every day.

Yanking a clump of weeds from the ground with unnecessary force, Qi Helin wondered—could it be that Xu Zhiyan wasn’t interested in fake pairings with him because she was aiming to leech off her boss’s own resources?

If that was the case… it might actually make sense.

He glanced over at the pair, thoughts turning over in his mind.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Shen Buhui asked as she worked, glancing over at Xu Zhiyan.

She vaguely remembered that in the middle of the night, Xu Zhiyan had seemed to be having a nightmare, but before she could wake up fully, Xu Zhiyan had patted her in her sleep and gone back to bed.

Xu Zhiyan nodded. “I had a lot of dreams last night. I woke up feeling exhausted.”

More than that—she dreamt about something from her past.

While working the soil absentmindedly, Xu Zhiyan thought that maybe she didn’t need to ask Lin Ya about that photo after all.

Because after she was jolted awake by the nightmare and fell asleep again, she actually dreamt of the scene captured in that photo.

“I dreamt about something from when I was little,” Xu Zhiyan muttered. “I haven’t dreamt about those things in a long time.”

She’d been adopted by Lin Ya and Xu Qingyi when she was still very young, and over the years, most of her memories had faded—aside from a few that were particularly vivid.

But honestly, those vivid memories… Xu Zhiyan would rather never remember them again.

She thought about the fire and blood in her dream, and her brow furrowed.

Then she suddenly remembered a beautiful older girl from her memories—and sighed.

“What is it?” Shen Buhui asked.

Xu Zhiyan looked troubled. “I forgot that I used to have a big sister I was really close to when I was little… and now I have no idea how she’s doing.”

Shen Buhui, still focused on her work, asked, “Why did you suddenly remember this? Because of the dream?”

“Maybe. I think yesterday while we were fishing, something triggered some old memories. And then last night’s dream brought everything into focus,” Xu Zhiyan replied.

Shen Buhui encouraged her to keep remembering, curious about what was going through her mind. “Do you miss her? Do you want to find her?”

She didn’t blame Xu Zhiyan for having forgotten—what had happened back then was traumatic. But she did want to know how Xu Zhiyan felt about these memories now that they were resurfacing.

That question caught Xu Zhiyan off guard.

She couldn’t help but recall those earlier times.

Before she was adopted by Lin Ya and Xu Qingyi, Xu Zhiyan had lived in a small town.

A loving couple, a lively, adorable daughter—they had formed what looked, on the outside, like a perfectly happy family.

But later, Xu Zhiyan came to understand that their home was not nearly as harmonious as it had seemed.

An overly possessive father and a delicate, overly sensitive mother made for a deeply dysfunctional family.

This couple—this pair of lovers—seemed to pour all of their intense, passionate love into each other, leaving nothing behind for anyone else.

And so, little Xu Zhiyan became the one left out, forgotten and ignored.

Because whenever the woman’s attention lingered too long on the child, that possessive man would grow furious—livid, even. He would drag the woman into their room, and they wouldn’t come out for a long, long time. The child would be left outside, enduring hunger alone.

And when the man occasionally cast even a sliver of attention toward the child, the fragile, sensitive woman would break down in tears. Naturally, that rare moment of indulgence would be swiftly withdrawn.

In such a distorted family of three, Xu Zhiyan played a role that was almost always overlooked.

So she began to spend more and more time outdoors, climbing around, running wild like a feral child, finding joy and freedom in the open.

Her fondness for beautiful people started early too—that’s how she met a delicate, pretty older girl. That was the first time Xu Zhiyan ever got into a fight. Her first act of bravery.

After that, the two quickly became inseparable. A tall girl and a younger one, hand in hand, running through every corner of the small town.

One was a child ignored by her parents. The other, a girl bullied and isolated. In that town, they were the closest thing each other had.

If not for the accident, they might’ve grown up together like sisters—childhood sweethearts, side by side.

But that fire changed everything.

Xu Zhiyan would never forget—how she curled up under the table, surrounded by choking smoke and blazing flames, while that tall, imposing man threw himself at the woman, carrying her out on his back. The two of them pressed tightly together as they escaped the inferno, completely forgetting the young daughter they had left behind.

In that moment, as the smoke stung her lungs and her consciousness faded, Xu Zhiyan’s final vision was of their backs, fleeing without her.

Overwhelming despair and grief surged through her. That was the first time Xu Zhiyan truly understood what it meant to be abandoned.

She didn’t know how many days had passed. By the time she woke up in the hospital, she was told she was an orphan.

Her birth parents had died in that fire—still entangled together in death.

Later, just as she was about to be sent to an orphanage, Xu Zhiyan was unexpectedly adopted by Lin Ya, who had been visiting on a trip, and brought back to Chuancheng.

Thinking about all this, Xu Zhiyan sniffled and adjusted her expression. “I do miss her,” she admitted softly. More than miss her—there was real longing.

After all, she’d been her best friend as a child. The prettiest, kindest older sister Xu Zhiyan had ever known.

“But it’s been so many years… finding someone I haven’t seen or contacted in that long would be almost impossible,” Xu Zhiyan said. “If she’s doing well now, I guess it doesn’t really matter whether I find her or not.”

Shen Buhui looked at her, gaze unwavering. “Before you lost contact—or before you parted ways—did you ever regret not saying goodbye properly?”

Xu Zhiyan looked up at her in surprise. “How did you know I didn’t say goodbye?”

Shen Buhui smiled to cover something in her voice. “I could tell from how you talked about it. Did I guess right?”

“You guessed right.” Xu Zhiyan stepped aside to a new spot—she’d already tilled this patch. “But back then, it was all too sudden. I’d planned to say goodbye properly before leaving. We even agreed on a time to meet… but things didn’t go as planned, and I couldn’t make it that day.”

As she said this, Xu Zhiyan looked a little pained.

She had meant to part properly, to tell her big sister goodbye. But Lin Ya’s mother had suddenly fallen ill, and they had to leave in a hurry. That planned farewell was never spoken.

“Do you regret it? Not saying goodbye to your friend properly?”

Xu Zhiyan lowered her gaze, the melancholy clear in her expression. “Regret doesn’t mean much now. Saying it just feels… fake.”

Because no amount of ‘I regret it’ could make up for a simple, genuine “goodbye” that was never said when it mattered.

“Who says it’s meaningless?” Shen Buhui looked at her, her voice a little hoarse. “If you never say anything, how would the other person ever know how you feel?”

She turned her head away, not wanting Xu Zhiyan to see her face. Her voice trembled slightly. “And who knows… maybe she already recognized you. Maybe she’ll see this show—and hear your apology.”

“Maybe she’s been holding onto this for years. And maybe, hearing that you regret it… will finally let her move on.”

Xu Zhiyan’s grip on the hoe tightened.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I really do regret it…”

She glanced toward the camera in the distance and said, almost to herself, “I really regret not saying goodbye to you that day. I’m sorry, sis. I broke our promise.”

If that beautiful sister from her childhood really was still carrying this wound, then Xu Zhiyan hoped—hoped she could recognize her and see this long-overdue confession.

She remembered too late.

But if her apology could help in any way, she hoped her big sister could let go.

That was her only wish now.

Behind her, Shen Buhui looked up at the sky.

Blue sky. White clouds. Wide and endless.

She casually wiped the corner of her eye, a smile spreading across her face—gentle, quiet, unseen by anyone.

The girl who once waited all day under the locust tree, holding a handful of candy, had finally gotten an answer after all these years.

That last-minute disappearance wasn’t intentional—it was just life, plans changing too fast.

And now, that person had come back to her side.

Thinking of that, Shen Buhui felt something in her chest quietly stitch itself back together. That long-held ache, that unresolved edge of longing, softened bit by bit.

As the two of them talked, Qi Helin caught bits and pieces of their conversation. He couldn’t make much sense of it, but it clearly didn’t include him. He wanted to join in, but barging in now would feel weird—so he sulked and kept working in silence.

After finishing the tilling, the three of them began planting and fertilizing.

Qi Helin seized the chance to get close to Xu Zhiyan again, but Shen Buhui—having just calmed down—kept frowning as she watched him approach.

“Your palms have blisters,” Qi Helin said, looking at Xu Zhiyan with concern. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ll do it.”

Xu Zhiyan, who had been helping shape the soil beds, glanced at him and handed over her tool.

“This is for…?”

Qi Helin blinked, momentarily confused.

Xu Zhiyan smiled. “If you like prepping the soil so much, you should’ve said so. I’ll switch with you and do the planting. As for taking a break—no need. A few blisters are nothing. I want to do my part for the group.”

Sure, her hands were sore—but there was no way she was letting Shen Buhui do this kind of labor. And since Qi Helin offered…

She picked up a bundle of vegetable seedlings from the plastic bag nearby and smiled again. “Come on, let’s keep planting.”

Qi Helin: “…”

Qi Helin, who also had blisters on his hands but only wanted to show off his “considerate and caring” persona, was left dumbfounded.

Who said I liked doing this?! He was just trying to put on a show!

Meanwhile, having handed off the task, Xu Zhiyan squatted down with a relaxed smile. She exchanged a quick glance with Shen Buhui, who was tending the watering and fertilizing—just a fleeting look, but it brimmed with unspoken warmth.

The tight furrow in Shen Buhui’s brow slowly eased.

She squatted beside Xu Zhiyan, and the two fell into an easy, casual conversation. Their harmony and closeness created a little bubble no one else could enter.

Watching himself once again being silently shut out, Qi Helin was so frustrated that his lips nearly curled in fury.

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