The Villainess A Marked the Seductive Movie Queen - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Meeting

The spring weather in Xiangheng was volatile. After a cold snap last night and a rainstorm this morning, the temperature suddenly spiked. The air became thick and humid, like a steamer. It was so hot that Liu Yitong wore only a single hoodie and jeans.

Leaving the hotel, she heard passersby complaining about the weather, but she didn’t mind. She was in a good mood; after all, there was a high probability that Ruan Minxue would attend the script table read this afternoon.

The venue was a mid-sized conference room in an office building within the studio city. When Liu Yitong arrived, several staff members were already setting up. In the domestic entertainment industry, “billing” and hierarchy are strictly observed; the staff had arrived early to arrange name cards carefully, ensuring the stars’ status was respected without making it look like the actors themselves were being fussy.

At the center of the inner wall were a whiteboard and a projector. The main seat at the center of the long table was for the General Director, with the first and second female leads flanking him. Other supporting actors were seated according to the importance of their roles. There were only about a dozen seats in total, showing that this was a serious working session rather than a flashy, superficial publicity stunt.

“Miss Liu,” a girl in a crew T-shirt said, checking her manual and gesturing respectfully to Liu Yitong. “Second female lead. Your seat is here.”

Liu Yitong’s gaze followed the staff member’s finger but landed on the opposite side, where a printed name card was inserted into a plastic holder. The elegant calligraphy formed a name: Role: Du Ran — Performer: Ruan Minxue.

She had hoped her name would one day be so close to that person’s, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or so suddenly. It triggered a faint, underlying dread of being unworthy.

It was only a fleeting thought; she didn’t let herself sink into self-deprecation. Liu Yitong lowered her head for a moment, then looked up, pulling the back of a nearby chair at the very end of the table.

“This seat is empty. Is it okay if I sit here?” she asked softly.

The seat she wanted was at the far end of the table, near the door and directly under the air vent—the “worst” seat in the room, so much so that the staff hadn’t even bothered putting a name card there.

“This…” The girl hesitated, likely hearing such a request for the first time.

Liu Yitong explained, “I’m a newcomer. This spot makes it easier for me to observe and learn from the seniors without being intrusive.”

The seats next to the director were the “head” seats, inevitably the center of attention. Looking around the room from there would be very obvious. The foot of the table was indeed perfect for low-profile observation.

“I see!” The girl’s tension vanished, and she smiled as she moved the name card. “Of course you can!”

Liu Yitong smiled but said nothing as she sat down. She could guess why the girl’s attitude had shifted. After all, the staff had to check a roster just to recognize this “second female lead.” An unknown actress with such high billing was usually assumed to be a “nepotism baby” installed by investors—people who were often difficult to deal with because of their backgrounds. Her explanation had likely changed the girl’s mind.

The excuse wasn’t entirely a front; she did want to learn. However, she had hidden another selfish motive: if she sat directly across from Ruan Minxue, she wouldn’t be able to look at her directly. But at the end of the table—a place no one watched—she would be free. She could use the script discussion as an excuse to shamelessly cast her gaze toward the woman at the center of the crowd.

She wouldn’t chase her, overstep, or covet. A distant gaze was the “sweetness” granted to her by a difficult life; a tiny sip of that sweetness was enough. She didn’t view this as being lowly, but as having clear self-awareness. Like Shu Ran’s jokes and the script’s implications, as a top-tier Alpha, if she truly wanted to possess her, she had the means.

But that was what her character, Qiao Jing, would do—not Liu Yitong.

She liked her. She couldn’t bear to drag her into hell. Her beast-like fangs could tear anyone apart, but she wanted to save her last shred of human devotion for her.

Soon, other actors arrived and took their seats. Some were familiar to Liu Yitong, some were strangers; overall, she knew no one. She didn’t bother socializing, sitting quietly in the corner flipping through her script.

Ruan Minxue entered with Zhang Lishen to the sound of polite, synchronized applause. Amidst the noise, Liu Yitong looked up. Her world shifted from the black-and-white of the script to the black-and-white of reality.

The woman was dressed simply today: a white undershirt beneath a white button-down, paired with high-waisted black trousers that made her legs look incredibly long. On anyone else, it would be mundane; on her, it was “understated elegance.” She wore no makeup except for lipstick. Her long, wavy hair framed her face—ink-black hair against snow-white skin. Her lips, the color of a faded, dried rose, became the focal point of the room.

The light from inside and outside blended into a vintage yellow-green hue, casting a nostalgic filter over her. An subtle sense of “story” made one want to drown in observing and interpreting her. Her beauty felt irrelevant to the era.

When she smiled, everyone smiled. The countless gazes fixed upon her were her accessories; Liu Yitong’s gaze, hidden in the crowd, was merely one strand among many.

When Ruan Minxue circled the room with her smile, acknowledging every look, Liu Yitong swiftly lowered her eyes. Admirers would find joy in her returning gaze; only a secret lover felt guilty, fearing they would be seen through.

Her eyes didn’t dare look, but her senses were entirely focused on her. She heard the sound of the woman’s flat shoes—light, almost a brush against the floor. she caught the peaceful, fresh scent of her, and felt the faint warmth of her body as she passed behind her.

“Ms. Ruan, this way…” the staff member guided her.

“Whew…” Ruan Minxue exhaled, her voice carrying a smile. “I’m sweating a bit. I’ll sit here for a moment.”

Her voice was soft and her words gentle, but the sentence structure was a statement that brooked no argument.

Liu Yitong sat with a stiff neck, not moving. It wasn’t until the empty chair beside her was pulled out that she realized—seeking the coolness after sweating, the coldest spot in the room was directly under the air vent.

Ruan Minxue was going to sit right next to her!

Amidst the noise of the chair legs dragging, Liu Yitong sat up straight awkwardly, then realized the sudden change in posture looked intentional, so she tried to relax by slouching her shoulders again.

As soon as Ruan Minxue sat down, everyone nearby immediately greeted her. She smiled and responded, everyone appearing very “natural.” By the time Liu Yitong reached the inner conclusion that everyone was being “natural,” the room had already gone quiet. No one was talking. Because she had too many internal thoughts, she had missed the window to give a casual greeting like everyone else.

Zhang Lishen took charge of the meeting, skipping the opening speeches and going straight to self-introductions. A certain deep-seated cultural habit caused everyone to look at Ruan Minxue. Even Zhang Lishen, the highest-ranking person in the room, waited for her to start.

Ruan Minxue only smiled. “I’m still hot. Let me catch my breath first.”

Since the person of highest status didn’t care about the order of seniority, everyone relaxed, and they decided to go in a circle according to the seating.

As voices rose and fell, the focus shifted away from her. Ruan Minxue took the opportunity to slowly tug at her collar to fan herself. That light breeze, carrying her scent and warmth, made Liu Yitong beside her incredibly sensitive.

She thought: If I had known the humidity after a spring rain would be this unbearable, my mood this morning should have been slightly worse. She also thought: Her body temperature really does rise easily, but it drops quickly after a while.

It was like that that night. The body holding her was like fire, igniting her instantly. But after the heat faded, when she was only holding the woman’s pinky, she felt her fingertips were exceptionally cold.

“…” Psycho. Liu Yitong cursed her wandering thoughts. Unconsciously, she imitated her, tugging at her hoodie collar to fan herself. After a moment, she felt the movement beside her stop. She stole a glance and saw Ruan Minxue’s gaze focused on the person speaking across the table. The faint sweat on her face had vanished; her hand rested on her arm, her thumb rubbing it as if trying to generate heat.

The seat under the vent had that one downside: it’s cool at first, but after a while, you get chilled. It was especially unfriendly to someone with a slender build.

Liu Yitong scanned the area. Next to the scripts and mineral water were a few remote controls. She silently observed the buttons, identified the one for the fresh air system, and swiftly picked it up to raise the temperature slightly. It was a quick movement that almost no one noticed. She secretly opened her hand behind Ruan Minxue’s back, confirming the wind hitting her palm had weakened.

A moment later, Ruan Minxue’s hand moved from her arm back to the table, and she casually flipped through her script. This small detail gave Liu Yitong a great sense of accomplishment. Because of her presence, the other woman’s environment had become a tiny bit more comfortable. Even if it was just a tiny bit.

She had chosen the end of the table to watch Ruan Minxue from afar, but now that the woman was sitting right next to her, it was actually harder to observe her than if she were across the table. Liu Yitong wondered if she was being “ungrateful for her good fortune.”

Thoughts kept popping up, she argued with herself, and then was calmed by the faint fragrance beside her. It was a very, very light citrus scent—fresh and pleasant. She didn’t know if it was perfume or something else, but it wasn’t a pheromone. Liu Yitong knew Ruan Minxue’s pheromone scent: Champagne Rose, a rich floral scent with a creamy undertone.

She couldn’t smell it now. She didn’t know if Ruan Minxue was intentionally suppressing it or if the abnormality of that night was just a fluke. If it were the former, now that two months had passed, Ruan Minxue didn’t need her and was doing just fine. If it were the latter, then she should thank the gods for the miracle that let her be the butterfly lucky enough to rest in the heart of that flower.

She was the only one who had ever tasted that richness.

“…” Psycho!

Liu Yitong snapped out of it, cursing herself again. She realized she had overestimated herself. She thought she could perfectly restrain herself, but her body and mind were constantly slipping into uncontrollable associations and memories.

Soon, the introductions reached Ruan Minxue. She stood up and gave a polite nod. Even a simple downward tilt of the head was done beautifully. Liu Yitong exhaled, taking the opportunity to blend her gaze with the others, staring at her legitimately.

Everyone there was an actor; most had trained their voices and delivery. Many were pleasant to hear, but Ruan Minxue’s voice provided more of a spiritual stimulation. Like a clear spring rinsing jade, like the breaking of celestial pearls, like a jade chime striking ice. Like her name—Minxue (Jade-like Snow)—she was a precious, breathtaking gem. One felt lucky just to be there to witness a rarity one didn’t deserve to see.

Liu Yitong didn’t actually hear much of what Ruan Minxue said next. Her attention was entirely on the profile of Ruan Minxue’s face—the rise and fall of her brows, the curve of her nose and lips, her long hair being tucked behind her shoulder. The bones on the back of her hand were as elegant as a scenic river. When she bowed her head, the back of her neck looked delicate, the bone slightly protruding. No line of a gland was visible.

That was the spot she had bitten—and kissed.

Liu Yitong’s greedy gaze was like a bird, suddenly caught by Ruan Minxue’s unannounced turn of the head. She froze, falling into the eye contact. It was like a rustling blizzard; she had no thoughts, her body buried and unable to move.

“It’s your turn,” Ruan Minxue reminded her with a smile. It was time for her introduction.

“Oh.”

As soon as she spoke, Liu Yitong regained her cool. She stood up calmly. As Ruan Minxue sat back down, in the moment their shoulders brushed, Liu Yitong caught Ruan Minxue raising a hand to touch the back of her neck. She wondered if that eye contact had made Ruan Minxue feel something, too.

Liu Yitong introduced her name and role, offering standard, modest words about learning from everyone. It was a textbook introduction—neither good nor bad. When she sat down, she appeared calm, but her body was still tense. Her senses flooded toward the person beside her again, beyond her control. She heard a short breath from Ruan Minxue—likely a laugh. She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh, or who she was laughing at.

The table read progressed smoothly. The actors present had all passed the “demon” director’s test; their understanding of character and performance was substantial. Liu Yitong unknowingly took many notes on her script. Using the format she had used in high school—detailed and clear—she was even complimented by a girl across the table who was also a newcomer.

Liu Yitong responded humbly, then stole a glance at Ruan Minxue’s script. Unlike hers, Ruan Minxue hadn’t written many words. She only drew circles around keywords in monologues or actions. The circles were even and thick—clearly not drawn with a rushed stroke, but by a pen circling over and over, reflecting deep thought. The former was an anxious marking of points; the latter was a record of the thinking process.

Liu Yitong thought: When she draws those circles, she must have already decided exactly how to play it. Not like me—I have so many words, but the image of how to perform is still blank in my head.

She really is amazing.

When the meeting ended, Ruan Minxue and Zhang Lishen walked out together. Many actors hurried to catch up with her, engaging in warm conversation. Ruan Minxue stopped and responded graciously, giving everyone equal warmth.

Watching this as she headed out, Liu Yitong decided to go over and say goodbye, making up for the missed greeting earlier. Waiting for the previous actor to leave, she stepped into the gap and nodded to Ruan Minxue, using the term the others used:

“Sister Ruan, see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Ruan Minxue’s response to her was no different from her response to anyone else—gentle, not special. Liu Yitong was satisfied with that. She walked away naturally, without hesitation or lingering, looking effortless and composed. She had performed well.

However, while her body left, her hearing remained. She heard Ruan Minxue speak to someone else: “Wait a moment.”

Her pace didn’t slow until the person behind her added: “Liu… Yi… Tong.”

She stated her name syllable by syllable.

As if her soul had been summoned, Liu Yitong’s body froze. She turned around to see Ruan Minxue looking directly at her, a smile playing on her lips. Amidst her apprehension, she heard Ruan Minxue’s slightly skeptical, searching question:

“Is this the first time we’ve met?”

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