The Romance Extras Turned Out to Be a Yuri Story - Chapter 6

When they arrived at the theater and saw Zhang Qiu, the drama club president—who had been looking gloomy—suddenly looked invigorated.

The moment Zhang Qiu saw him, she directly pushed Lin Luoluo in front of him.
“This is the transfer student, Lin Luoluo. Her English is very good.”

The president looked her up and down, eyes lighting up. He immediately shoved a piece of paper into her hands.
“Read this.”

Lin Luoluo scanned it quickly, then read it aloud. Her pronunciation was very standard. Because she wasn’t familiar with the lines, she read slowly, but her tone was clear.

“Excellent!” The president clapped, then waved for others to drag Lin Luoluo into the fitting room.

Blushing, Lin Luoluo covered her chest, but several senior girls cornered her with mischievous laughter and quickly stripped her down.

One person against four hands was no match; Lin Luoluo was soon forced into the female lead’s costume. She was pressed into a seat before the dressing mirror—someone did her makeup, someone fitted her with a wig—and half-asleep, she was shoved back out again.

“How does she look?” someone asked expectantly.

Lin Luoluo struggled to open her eyes. In front of her was a broad chest, and above her head came a low, husky laugh.
“Beautiful.”

Ah…

Lin Luoluo dumbly stared at Zhang Qiu dressed as a prince. Her bright eyes fluttered, long curled lashes like butterfly wings. When she lowered her gaze, her eyes seemed to hide endless affection, like starry galaxies. Suddenly, her face flushed crimson.

Zhang Qiu’s voice, lowered to sound more androgynous, asked gently. Her long hair was tied back neatly, with loose strands falling over her forehead. With makeup softening her overly feminine features, her contours appeared sharper, highlighting her bold, handsome charm.

“Nervous?” Zhang Qiu asked.

Lin Luoluo gazed at her and nodded blankly.

Zhang Qiu took her hand and led her toward the stage, her voice faint.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be with you.”

Lin Luoluo bit her lip, murmured a soft “Mm,” and the blush spread down to her neck.

As they passed by, whispers and rustling followed.

“Wow! So handsome!”
“Who is he?”
“Senior Zhang Qiu, I love you!”

Zhang Qiu only gave a small nod, but her grip on Lin Luoluo’s hand tightened, cool and firm, as though afraid she would run away.

Lin Luoluo’s gaze dropped from their joined hands to Zhang Qiu’s upright back.

This prince’s uniform was very form-fitting—so different from her usual clothes—and it showed off Zhang Qiu’s excellent figure completely.

Her slender back, narrow waist, and even the curve of her hips…

Lin Luoluo shook her head violently, trying to scatter the “dirty” thoughts in her mind.

Blushing, she made it to the stage, lines shoved into her hands.

The drama club president looked serious.
“The performance begins at 2 p.m. You have one hour to memorize the script and practice the blocking. This afternoon’s show will be the last scene—and the climax.”

“The prince confesses his love, but because of the gap in social status, the two cannot be together. That night, Cinderella, overwhelmed by longing, weeps at her window. At that moment, the prince suddenly appears beneath her window, and after confessing their love, the two elope and live happily ever after.”

Lin Luoluo scrunched up her face and focused earnestly on memorizing her lines.

Zhang Qiu glanced at her, didn’t disturb her, and went to rehearse blocking with the president.

This play was a rewritten fairy tale by the president himself. He had once performed it before, and because Zhang Qiu’s portrayal had been so iconic back then, it had caused a sensation throughout the school. Before she graduated, the president wanted to recreate that moment.

Lin Luoluo had just about finished memorizing. She looked up and saw Zhang Qiu standing on stage, the spotlight flickering over her. She stretched out her hand and spoke her monologue to the moonlight.

Even knowing full well it was Zhang Qiu playing the prince, Lin Luoluo couldn’t help but be swept away by her heartfelt performance. Everyone backstage paused, their eyes drawn to her as if she were a black hole pulling all attention in.

“Good, good, good!” The president clapped, snapping everyone out of it. They shook their heads and resumed moving props.

Then the president turned suddenly to Lin Luoluo.
“You—”

He faltered. Zhang Qiu spoke up softly.
“Luoluo.”

“Yes, come over here.”

Lin Luoluo climbed onto the stage.
“Have you memorized your lines?” the president asked.

She nodded.
“Good. Then run through them with Zhang Qiu.”

She lifted her eyes. Zhang Qiu’s gaze was on her as she spoke the prince’s first line.
“My princess, I’ve come for you.”

Lin Luoluo tried to hold it in, but she couldn’t help laughing.

Zhang Qiu’s eyes carried a smile too, her pale face soft and gentle. Lin Luoluo immediately lowered her head, not daring to look again.

She recited her lines, lashes lowered, avoiding eye contact.

“Cut!” The president stopped them.

“Luoluo, you have to look at Zhang Qiu! She’s your beloved—the one you thought you’d never see again! Your eyes must convey your love!”

Lin Luoluo whispered, “I’ll try.”

She lifted her head timidly. Zhang Qiu’s gentle gaze was full of encouragement. Luoluo’s heart raced. She tried to project the character’s emotions, and in Zhang Qiu’s eyes, she seemed to touch that feeling.

“I love you. Even knowing it’s impossible, still I rush toward you like a moth to flame.”

Suddenly, the curtains were pulled open. Dongfang Qing stood there, stunned. Then he walked forward slowly.
“Did I interrupt?”

“No, we just started,” Zhang Qiu said with a smile.

He looked her up and down, then chuckled.
“No wonder the girls outside are going crazy over you, dressed like this.”

“Huh?” Zhang Qiu blinked, confused.

Smiling, Dongfang Qing handed her his phone.

Someone had secretly taken a picture of Zhang Qiu and posted it to the campus forum, inviting everyone to the drama club’s performance. The post was already pinned and had over a hundred replies.

Zhang Qiu saw the poster’s name and pressed her forehead in exasperation. She called toward the president,
“When did you sneak a photo of me?”

The president laughed sheepishly.
“Just earlier, when you came out. Handsome, right?”

“President! There are so many people outside!” someone shouted.

Lin Luoluo instantly tensed up.

Zhang Qiu glanced at her.
“Let’s keep rehearsing.”

She walked over, squeezed Lin Luoluo’s hand gently, and whispered,
“Don’t be afraid.”

But of course Lin Luoluo was afraid—her legs were trembling. She forced herself to hold steady, rehearsed her lines and blocking with Zhang Qiu.

Her role was simple: stand at the prop window, deliver her confession to the prince standing below, then leap into his arms to run away together.

On stage, the prince (Zhang Qiu) had to battle against the king for his happiness, overcome countless obstacles, and finally confess his love to win his beloved.

Busy with practice, time slipped by. Before she was fully ready, Lin Luoluo was shoved on stage like a duck being driven to the pond. She wore a worried frown, nerves in her chest.

Zhang Qiu was to enter first. She stood beside Lin Luoluo backstage, saw how nervous she was, and pressed something into her hand in the dark.

The curtain rose. Zhang Qiu strode onstage. Lin Luoluo opened her hand under the stage light—inside was a piece of candy. She unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth.

So sour!

Her whole body shivered, face puckering like a wrinkled bitter melon.

The candy was so sour her head went blank.

But suddenly, her nerves were gone. Even her trembling hands steadied.

Maybe the sourness had shocked the anxiety right out of her.

“Luoluo, your turn!” a classmate reminded her.

The music swelled into a dramatic crescendo. Lin Luoluo climbed onto the prop window. When the melody softened into a sad tune, a spotlight shone on her. She gently opened the window, her face sorrowful, and recited the famous line.

“Afeya…”

Below, the prince’s voice rang out. Lin Luoluo lowered her head. The prince stretched out his arms.
“I’ve come for you!”

She leapt from the window into the prince’s embrace, and together they ran toward their happy ending.

When the curtain fell, Lin Luoluo quickly scrambled out of Zhang Qiu’s arms, grabbing her arm.
“Are you okay?”

She had heard a sharp hiss of pain when she landed, though Zhang Qiu quickly covered it up.

“What happened?” Others were preparing for the curtain call and gathered around.

“Nothing. The stage light went out a little early, I almost tripped.” Zhang Qiu waved it off and smiled at Lin Luoluo.

But Lin Luoluo pressed her lips together.

During the curtain call, with the audience’s applause thundering, she still couldn’t help glancing anxiously at Zhang Qiu—now surrounded by girls asking for her autograph.

Had she hurt her just now? Or was it something else?

Finally escaping the crowd, the two went to change. They had to hurry, since the student council election was happening right after.

Lin Luoluo took off the costume, removed the wig, and put on her own clothes. Then she heard Zhang Qiu’s voice asking for help.
“Luoluo, are you done? Could you help me? I think I twisted my wrist.”

Lin Luoluo yanked open the curtain. Zhang Qiu’s face was pale, her left hand clutching her right wrist. The top three buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing a slender collarbone.

She wore a faintly apologetic smile.

Lin Luoluo quickly checked her wrist but didn’t see obvious injury.
“Should we go to the hospital?”

“Let’s go to the student council first,” Zhang Qiu insisted.

Lin Luoluo sighed. “What do you need me to do?”

Zhang Qiu hesitated, then turned her head slightly.
“Could I trouble you to help me change clothes? My hand really hurts.”

Heat crept into Lin Luoluo’s face. She cleared her throat and tried to sound steady.
“Okay.”

She unbuttoned Zhang Qiu’s shirt, avoiding her gaze, then quickly slipped it off. Picking up her folded clothes, she pulled the top over Zhang Qiu’s head.

Zhang Qiu chuckled as she wriggled into it, slipping her arms through. Lin Luoluo tugged the shirt down a bit too hard, nearly yanking Zhang Qiu onto the floor.

“Alright, alright. I’ll put on the pants myself.”

Lin Luoluo silently handed them over. Zhang Qiu, using only her left hand, undid the costume’s belt and looked up. Lin Luoluo’s face flushed scarlet, and she abruptly yanked the curtain shut to block her view.

Her face felt boiling hot, like a kettle whistling on the stove, steam rising uncontrollably. She slapped her cheeks.

Ugh, useless!

Whatever she has, you’ve got it too! Just… bigger. And whiter. That’s all!

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