The Villainess A Marked the Seductive Movie Queen - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Don’t Kiss

The sun finally came out in Xiangheng today, and the weather was lovely. Liu Yitong picked out a summer-appropriate outfit: a grey base shirt paired with black overalls, her long hair rolled into a bun tucked inside a deep grey beanie. Before heading out, she hesitated over whether to wear perfume; deciding that she didn’t need to stand out in a crowd, she simply injected a suppressant.

The injectable kind was significantly more stable than the patches, but because it entered the bloodstream directly, it was more irritating. Since she wasn’t in her heat cycle and was using a high-dosage suppressant as a precaution instead of a milder blocker, the excessive suppression caused a reaction in her glands. The organ, sensitive by nature, suddenly flared with a needle-like sting.

Liu Yitong leaned against the doorframe for a moment until the pain subsided. She moved her neck and touched her gland; finding nothing unusual, she finally left.

The address attached to the “icebreaker” text was an activity room in an office building. When Liu Yitong arrived, the temperature control had already been set comfortably, and the white porcelain floor tiles reflected the lights, brightening the entire room. The environment was unfamiliar and quiet; at first, she didn’t realize anyone else was there.

That was until her nose was captured by the cold, crisp scent of damp grass. Liu Yitong followed the fragrance and, amidst a scent profile resembling a spring forest, she saw a woman surrounded by flowers by the window.

It was Ruan Minxue.

She was cradling a large bouquet of hyacinths—naturally large blooms that displayed their colors with wild brilliance. Pale blue, soft pink, deep purple, and pure white were all gathered in pleated snow-white paper, tucked against the woman’s snowy collarbone revealed by her V-neck top.

Witnessing this scene, Liu Yitong’s heart skipped a beat. This was the film set; she knew she would run into Ruan Minxue, but seeing her in person still brought a rush of surprise and delight.

Since they were the only two in the room, Ruan Minxue caught her in her peripheral vision and turned naturally. Liu Yitong had no choice but to walk up and greet her, bracing herself.

“Morning, Ruan-jie.”

“Morning.”

A voice soaked in floral fragrance sounded sweet just by listening.

A silence followed. Liu Yitong felt a bit awkward; as the junior, she should find a topic, but her mind was filled with hyacinths—her own pheromones smelled like hyacinths.

Pheromones are an exceptionally intimate topic in social settings, usually only mentioned during doctor’s visits or between lovers. If she brought it up out of the blue, it would sound like she was teasing Ruan Minxue for buying flowers “for her,” or suggesting that Ruan Minxue was currently “embracing her.” It felt both offensive and narcissistic.

The silence didn’t last long; Ruan Minxue spoke first.

“An old woman carrying flowers happened to pass by, and surprisingly, she was selling hyacinths. She said their blooming period is only in the spring of March and April. It’s early May now, so this batch is likely the last of the year. I bought them all.”

Liu Yitong stared at the flowers that shared her body scent, secretly envious that they had gained intimacy with that person before she did. She saw Ruan Minxue wave her hand to draw the fragrance toward her, her eyes curving as if pleased. She heard Ruan Minxue murmur:

“Once these wither, I don’t know if I’ll be able to smell this scent again this year.”

Liu Yitong felt an itch at the back of her neck and raised her hand to rub her gland.

“It’s quite wonderful. This floral scent… feels familiar to me.”

Liu Yitong’s throat bobbed.

She looked calm on the surface, but underneath, the currents were surging. To someone with a guilty conscience, everything sounds like a double entendre. Her logic reminded her not to over-interpret, and she told herself it was rude to have a head full of subtext while offering no verbal response.

Suppressing the inner turmoil, Liu Yitong looked up to speak to Ruan Minxue, only to see her already making a new move. The woman placed the bouquet on the windowsill and pulled out a few beautiful flower stalks.

Today, she wore an ivory V-neck blouse and blue jeans cinched with a black leather belt, accentuating her narrow waist. The brown checkered silk scarf around her neck made her look gentle and intellectual, while the colors of the flowers added a touch of romance and vitality.

Liu Yitong watched blankly as Ruan Minxue untied the silk scarf from her neck, bundled the stems of the hyacinths she had pulled out, and tied a casual bow. When the new small bouquet adorned with the scarf was held out to her, Liu Yitong finally snapped back to reality.

She blinked, momentarily lost, only to see Ruan Minxue smile and say softly:

“I’ll share half of my spring with you.”

Liu Yitong’s heart gave a tiny tug at those words. She hurried to say “Thank you, Ruan-jie” and took the flowers.

Whether it was an illusion or not, the bouquet seemed to carry the warmth of the woman’s body, and within the scent of the hyacinths, there was a faint trace of another floral perfume.

Ruan Minxue added, “Since you’ve accepted my flowers, I suppose the ice is broken?”

“Broken?” Liu Yitong blurted out. She turned around, seeing that the room was still empty. It was impossible for all the other actors to be late. “The others…”

“The only ones with special script interactions are you two, and since there’s a total newcomer involved…” Just then, the door opened and Director Zhang Lishen walked in. “So, only you two need to break the ice.”

Only me and her.

Liu Yitong lowered her eyes, suppressing her flash of shock. She was glad the silk scarf around the flowers was soft; when her fingers unconsciously tightened, it made no sound. She also regretted not anticipating this; otherwise, she should have worn some perfume before leaving.

But then, she didn’t know which kind would be appropriate. Every expensive perfume she had splurged on was a brand Ruan Minxue endorsed. She was afraid Ruan Minxue wouldn’t notice, yet even more afraid she would recognize it.

The arrival of a third person in the empty room gave the heavy-hearted Liu Yitong a strange sense of relief. Zhang Lishen told them to sit on the sofa stools by the wall and stood before them to explain the icebreaking process. Perhaps because Zhang Lishen possessed a cold, rational, almost mechanical quality, he triggered Liu Yitong’s own rationality. She listened intently.

She sat upright, her back not touching the wall, positioned near the edge of the seat. She couldn’t see Ruan Minxue in her peripheral vision. Ruan Minxue was a senior and didn’t show any nervousness; she guessed Ruan was sitting relaxedly, perhaps leaning against the wall behind her.

Liu Yitong suspected that whenever she was near Ruan Minxue, she became excessively self-conscious. The back of her body, nearest to that woman, felt as if it were being scorched. She had the illusion of being a hunter who had let the prey get behind them.

When Zhang Lishen’s gaze shifted from her face to her side, his eyes narrowing as if observing, Liu Yitong turned her head to look at Ruan Minxue along with him.

She met a direct, candid gaze—one devoid of a smile. Usually, when someone is caught looking at another, they turn away. But Ruan Minxue didn’t; she observed people with total composure.

It was this single look that made Liu Yitong realize with a start: she was not the hunter. Those words about the scent of hyacinths might have truly been a test.

Zhang Lishen withdrew his gaze and explained, “For the first part, I will leave the room. You two will complete it together. Simply put, it’s a ‘Don’t Kiss Challenge.’ You must maintain eye contact at a close distance for five minutes without kissing.”

Even the young idol, who usually had perfect facial control, widened her eyes at the abrupt and stimulating mention of the word “kiss.”

It wasn’t that Liu Yitong had improper thoughts; it was just that for an icebreaker, it was quite intense. Even if Zhang Lishen had told them to kiss right there to “desensitize” them for future scenes, she wouldn’t have been this confused.

A Don’t Kiss Challenge? What kind of challenge is that? She has no interest in me, and I wouldn’t dare disrespect her. It should be as simple as breathing.

Seeing Liu Yitong’s rare look of bewilderment, Zhang Lishen chuckled and asked, “Have you heard the saying? ‘Eye contact is a spiritual kiss between humans that contains no lust.'”

This clearly wasn’t a spontaneous whim. Director Zhang even played a short video illustrating the concept: strangers in a Japanese variety show developing feelings during a staring challenge; East Asian parents and children bursting into tears; childhood friends with unspoken feelings using laughter to hide the awkwardness of crossed boundaries…

“If you didn’t know the principle, it might not have been a challenge. Now that you do, the challenge has begun.”

In the shock following her realization, Liu Yitong heard Zhang Lishen’s teasing announcement. Before leaving the room, he added: “By the way, really don’t kiss. There are cameras here. Although the footage can be deleted, it’s a hassle.”

Liu Yitong instinctively looked back at Ruan Minxue. She was caught by Ruan’s composed gaze, which seemed to steady the girl’s momentary fluttering soul.

This is just basic acting skill, Liu Yitong thought. To her, this kind of interaction is normal.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ruan Minxue said flatly. “Let’s just keep our own pace.”

The mental defenses Liu Yitong had just built were shattered by that one intriguing bit of comfort. What did she mean by “don’t listen to him”?

Zhang Lishen left and thoughtfully closed the door. The clock on the projector screen began to count down. There was no time to be coy; the challenge was on.

Before officially locking eyes, Liu Yitong closed hers tightly, giving herself one last warning: If I kiss her or look away, I lose. Losing this game is essentially a confession.

She would not confess. Therefore, she could not kiss, and she could not look away. She bound her racing thoughts and brought them under the control of her reason. When she opened her eyes, she was exceptionally calm.

They began the eye contact from their seated positions. Since it was the first time they had looked at each other so closely, even without lust, Liu Yitong was still dazed by the sheer beauty of those eyes in reality. They were incredibly expressive eyes; when lowered, they looked pure, but because of the slight height difference, Ruan Minxue was looking up slightly, the corners of her eyes flicking up like the tip of a fox’s tail.

It was a bit “hooking.”

Liu Yitong looked for a moment and found it hard to breathe. Her gaze flickered, she blinked frantically, pulled her gaze back, then looked away again.

Her weaknesses became toys. The corners of Ruan Minxue’s mouth twitched up and then down—the change was fast, but because they were so close, Liu Yitong saw it clearly.

Then, she saw Ruan Minxue lean her upper body forward, her arms crossed and resting in the space between them, creeping forward two steps. She closed the distance.

The Alpha girl’s innate competitive streak was sparked. Refusing to show weakness, she leaned in to meet her. Ruan Minxue didn’t back away as the distance shortened; instead, she tilted her face up slightly.

Their noses almost touched, if only for a second.

The back of Liu Yitong’s neck went numb; her gland felt faintly hot. They were provoking each other in a gaze that should have been tender, yet because of the provocation, they fell into an even more tender predicament.

Because Liu Yitong harbored a secret crush, she was caught in a dilemma of wanting to approach yet needing to push away. But the other woman, acting as if she had no such feelings, tested boundaries with zero restraint, as if she were kneading a person’s heart like a stress toy.

Liu Yitong could only chalk it up to her own bad luck.

The room was silent. Liu Yitong could only hear her own frantic heartbeat and the other woman’s long, leisurely breaths. It was like a thread, tangling her own breathing into a mess.

Liu Yitong took a deep breath to steady herself, but she only inhaled more of the rich hyacinth scent in the room. Coupled with the proximity of the woman before her, whose personal fragrance blended with the flowers, it was as if she were watching Ruan Minxue lying in a sea of blossoms.

She gritted her teeth, her lips pressed tight. Her gaze escaped for a second, moving from Ruan Minxue’s eyes to the bridge of her nose, then to the slight gap of her lips. Liu Yitong’s throat bobbed again. She unconsciously licked her lip, her eyes feeling as if they were burned by the faint shimmer of moisture on the other’s lips, and she snapped her gaze back to the eye contact.

She saw Ruan Minxue’s eyes crinkle as if she had scored a win.

Liu Yitong’s brow twitched. Her muscles tensed, and her fingertips, dug into the leather of the sofa, spasmed twice. It was just eye contact, yet it felt like a high-speed chase. Heart racing, adrenaline surging—like a beast being hunted across a sunset wilderness, where even a moment of negligence would mean being devoured.

It was the alarm of the clock hitting zero that finally signaled the end of the duel.

There were no losers.

Liu Yitong turned her head away; Ruan Minxue straightened up. The girl suppressed the frequency of her breath, exhaling slowly. Five minutes of eye contact—the pulling and chasing was no different from a marathon. She had thought the challenge would be as easy as breathing, but in the end, even her breath felt like it was being pulled into threads.

When Zhang Lishen came back in, he glanced at their expressions. He didn’t comment, but he looked satisfied. Liu Yitong didn’t know what her own expression looked like, but seeing the director’s reaction, she figured there was no need to worry about being found out. After all, this play was the best excuse; any real emotion could be masked as “staying in character.”

The rest of the icebreaking was guided by Zhang Lishen, involving interactions like free-form improvisations of specific scenarios. Compared to the impact of the staring challenge, the subsequent parts were a breeze. Even when Zhang Lishen asked them to embrace for one minute, Liu Yitong wasn’t that nervous.

Liu Yitong wrapped her arms around Ruan Minxue’s shoulders, touching her only lightly. Her palms were awkwardly raised, with only the centers of her wrists slightly brushing the fabric of the other’s top.

She was using her pulse to be close to the person she didn’t dare hold tight.

Ruan Minxue’s attitude was much more open. Her arms naturally went around Liu Yitong’s waist, resting on her iliac bone. She was tactful enough not to touch the waist muscles, yet she leaned on her skeletal frame with a lazy, intimate reliance.

It reminded Liu Yitong of watching a variety show with Shu Ran, and her friend’s comment on on-screen couples selling “fanservice”: “Those who are open and casual are usually just doing business; those who are cautious and careful are the ones with something to hide.”

Thinking about the massive amount of physical contact in the upcoming script, the girl—who usually didn’t believe in gods or ghosts—rarely wanted to ask for some Taoist charms to drive away the “lustful demon” screaming in her heart.

A full day of icebreaking. They even shared lunch. Toward the end, Liu Yitong felt a sense of fatigue after the over-excitement; her brain felt numb, and her memories were blurry.

Finally, Ruan Minxue suggested that Zhang Lishen take some “behind-the-scenes” photos of them as mementos. It wasn’t a formal pose; they didn’t need to look at the camera. Liu Yitong slumped her shoulders slightly to relax. The next second, her nerves tensed again.

Ruan Minxue was reaching out. Her cool, soft fingertips brushed past Liu Yitong’s temple. Liu Yitong didn’t move. She shifted her gaze slightly and saw that a strand of her long hair had escaped from her beanie and was hanging out visibly. The other woman was just kindly helping her tidy her hair so she would look better in the photos.

“All done.”

Zhang Lishen put the camera away. It was unclear what he had captured or how many photos he took.

The day of icebreaking interactions finally came to an end. To Liu Yitong, the feeling was no different from a pauper winning the lottery, or Adam and Eve tasting the forbidden fruit. She was dizzy from the unfamiliar happiness—to the point where she suspected she had blacked out at the very end.

When Zhang Lishen said they were dismissed, Liu Yitong was resting on the sofa. She checked the time before closing her eyes: 5:14 PM. When she opened them again, she was somehow standing by the window. She checked her phone: 5:27 PM.

She had no memory of what happened in those thirteen minutes—when she woke up or how she walked over. She had never experienced this before and wasn’t sure if it was normal. Maybe after years of longing, suddenly getting what I wanted triggered some kind of brain protection mechanism, she thought.

She pushed open the window.

The sky was filled with brilliant evening clouds, like a wedding veil, presenting a vast, dreamy palette. The sunset was pink, the sky was blue, and blended together, they wove a young girl’s dream. Not far away, a wildflower swayed at the base of an old red-brick wall; the cracks were gilded gold-orange by the sun, like a ruin transforming into a new city.

The scent of hyacinths drifted out from the room, passing the girl’s cheek. Liu Yitong took a deep breath, savoring the evening breeze and the floral fragrance.

Today was the Beginning of Summer.

Spring had passed, but all things were still blooming.

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