The Villainess A Marked the Seductive Movie Queen - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Curiosity

One week later.

The signing of the film contract took place in the glass-walled conference room of the same cultural studio where the auditions were held. Sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the room, and several copies of the contract were neatly arranged on a long walnut table.

Since signing with a production team is a formal business occasion, Liu Yitong specifically asked her manager, Shu Ran, to accompany her for support.

Opposite the negotiating table sat the assistant director and a lawyer, both of whom stood up to greet them the moment they met. Liu Yitong responded with a nod—polite but distant.

Shu Ran took charge of the contract negotiations, communicating with the lawyer about the specifics of bolded clauses like “exclusive representation” and “liquidated damages.” As she listened, Liu Yitong’s mind drifted, her thoughts wandering along with her gaze.

A minor event like a signing wouldn’t bring out General Director Zhang Lishen, let alone Ruan Minxue. Liu Yitong had expected this; unable to see the person, she looked at the posters to quench her thirst.

This conference room had likely been reserved for the crew recently and specially decorated. As promotional material for the production, a poster of Ruan Minxue was essential.

Below the title Counterkill, the poster featured Ruan Minxue’s recent character photo:

A white shirt, black trousers—the accordion pleats at the neckline curved along her body, outlining an even more exquisite figure. Ruan Minxue wore gold-rimmed glasses; the thin gold frames complemented her pale eye color, exuding a distant, cold elegance. Yet, her slender fingers held a blood-stained blade, with blood splattered across her fair skin and pink lips, serving as a substitute for lipstick.

It was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Pure yet dangerous. Cold yet seductive.

These contradictory concepts were harmoniously unified in Ruan Minxue. She was beautiful—so beautiful that even in a modest, city-OL outfit that was form-fitting but not tight, and devoid of any overt eroticism, she could still make one’s heart race with a single glance.

Liu Yitong silently withdrew her gaze and lowered her head to compose herself.

She recalled Shu Ran mentioning a few days ago that during the period before filming began, Ruan Minxue had taken on a new, unannounced role: Sino-Foreign Cultural Exchange Ambassador.

The general climate had been sluggish recently. Even in Huchuan, which consistently topped GDP rankings, the total economic flow had decreased significantly compared to previous years. Consequently, the Huchuan authorities acutely perceived the dual variables of economy and politics in the upcoming European diplomatic visit.

Coincidentally, Ruan Minxue had played a bright and gentle Chinese teacher in the Sino-French co-production My Dream Comes True years ago. The charm of that Oriental beauty had lingered in the dreams of countless Western men and women, and her popularity remained high years after the film left theaters.

Furthermore, her family’s business, Ruan Medical Technology, was internationally renowned. From both financial and cultural perspectives, Ruan Minxue was the consensus choice to serve as the bridge for this exchange. No one would question it; no one dared to be jealous.

Internal entertainment rankings always treated Ruan Minxue as an outlier, as her presence in the circle was akin to a “dimensional strike.” She had almost no rivals; anyone daring to claim such a title would only be mocked by the public for trying to elevate their own status.

Domestically and internationally, young and old—countless people would spend a fortune just to see Ruan Minxue in person. Next month, she would be working with Liu Yitong, filming a large number of scenes together.

Thinking of this, the month-long wait before joining the crew felt awkward. Long, because after years of watching from afar, she had never dared to imagine a direct confrontation, yet they would meet next month. Short, because for thirty-odd days, she would wake up to the thought of the impending meeting, and checking her phone calendar always showed many days remaining.

She sat with her head down, lost in thought, not even noticing that the conversation at the table had turned to her.

“Liu Yitong!” Shu Ran nudged her under the table.

Only then did Liu Yitong look up, leisurely glancing across the table. She saw the assistant director’s breath hitch upon meeting her gaze. The woman in her early thirties, who usually acted with sharp rationality, offered a rare sentimental comment:

“Miss Liu, your eyes are… unforgettable.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Liu Yitong accepted calmly.

She had always known she had unique eyes. The overall shape was long, but the palpebral fissure was high enough that they weren’t narrow, but rather “phoenix eyes” with piercing power. Her pupils were a pure black, unusual for Asians, and positioned slightly high, giving her a cynical sense of detachment when she looked at people—a bit fierce.

During her time as an idol, she once had a Dunhuang-style makeup look, and a fan gave her a fitting description: The Killing-God Guanyin.

When Liu Yitong was an idol, she almost never engaged in “fan service” like her teammates, yet her fans were invariably indulgent of her. Aside from her solid dance skills, this was largely due to her eyes, for which there was no substitute in the entertainment industry.

The assistant director continued to marvel, “Director Zhang always chooses only seasoned actors for his cast. Yet you are a pure newcomer with no acting credits. I was wondering what it was that moved him?”

Liu Yitong listened quietly.

The assistant director continued: “Plus, the director attaches great importance to this script. Even the resumes and audition clips were specifically selected by Director Zhang in collaboration with Ms. Ruan. Now that I’ve seen you in person, I think I have the answer.”

Liu Yitong’s head buzzed.

Ms. Ruan.

There was no need to mention the full name or provide context; a single surname was enough for everyone to know who was being referred to. For someone to be that famous, it could be no one else.

Suddenly hearing about her, learning that she was involved in the casting, and realizing that her own selection might have been approved by her—for a moment, Liu Yitong’s mind was a roar of white noise.

But this unseen crack only lasted a second. When she responded a moment later, her expression was indifferent, as if “Ms. Ruan” were someone of no particular importance—just like the assistant director, the absent Director Zhang, or the accompanying lawyer.

“Thank you for the compliment,” Liu Yitong replied.

The signing ended successfully, and both parties shook hands to say goodbye. It wasn’t until the assistant director remarked on how cold her hands were despite it being spring that Liu Yitong realized her body had failed to hide the concern her face had masked.

Shu Ran stepped in to smooth things over with a laugh, while Liu Yitong stepped back, looking down at her own hand. She curled her fingers, then slowly extended them—they were stiff, as if the blood weren’t flowing. Perhaps the shock of a moment ago had sent all her blood to her head, leaving nothing for her extremities.

Now that she had calmed down, Liu Yitong’s hyper-perfused brain began to work frantically: Does Ruan Minxue remember my eyes? Will she remember? After all, on the night I first marked her, she also praised my eyes.

On the way back, there was a traffic jam on the elevated bridge. Shu Ran lowered the convertible top, complaining about how the Porsche she bought last month wasn’t easy to handle while comparing the front, rear, and interior of the 718 and 911. To Liu Yitong, who knew nothing about cars, the details Shu Ran recounted didn’t form a picture; they were just two sets of numbers on a spreadsheet.

Once they finally got off the bridge, Shu Ran, fearing more congestion on the main roads, crossed the river bridge and detoured into the old roads of the historic district. The scenery outside the window instantly shifted from a modern metropolis back to a slow-paced past.

Liu Yitong didn’t understand luxury cars or the brilliance of the new district, but she was very familiar with the noisy, dilapidated alleys of the old city. As the car passed a familiar neighborhood, she recognized her former rental house and asked Shu Ran to let her out for a walk.

“Should I come back for you?”

“Too much trouble. I’ll just take a taxi back.”

As she got out, Shu Ran tapped her own face with a smile. Liu Yitong understood and put on her mask.

“Don’t cause a stir, future big star!”

Shu Ran, always bright, was optimistic about Liu Yitong’s career. Liu Yitong responded with a slight crinkle at the corners of her eyes and watched Shu Ran drive away.

Returning to her old haunts, Liu Yitong expected to find familiar memories, but was surprised to see that the exterior walls of her former building had been repainted. Looking through the first-floor window, the single room had been renovated—new white walls, a new bed—a far cry from the dilapidated state she had lived in for months.

As luck would have it, the new tenant returned and made eye contact. After a brief conversation, Liu Yitong learned that after she moved out, a fire had broken out in the neighborhood. Most buildings had been renovated, and fire safety warning posters were now pasted near every doorway.

“What happened to the original landlady?” Liu Yitong felt a pang in her heart, remembering the old-fashioned woman who only accepted cash and stubbornly used a phone book and a landline to contact tenants.

She remembered how the old woman once laughed at herself for being “old and bleary-eyed,” saying she had dialed a number from the book, talked for ages, and only then realized she had dialed the wrong person, ending up chatting with a stranger about the weather and food. She also remembered a thick notebook by the old woman’s bed, used for both bookkeeping and recording important numbers. When asked why she didn’t use a mobile phone, the old woman would smile and say: “It’s because I’m eccentric that you are curious enough to ask, then we have things to talk about, and doesn’t our relationship get better?” She was a woman with a strong personality and great warmth.

The new tenant replied: “Good people are rewarded. During the fire, the neighbors were all thinking of her and got her out in time. They even saved her cash, but almost everything in the building was burned.”

“As long as she’s okay,” Liu Yitong breathed a sigh of relief.

“But the phone book was burned. We outsiders feel sorry for her, but she has a good attitude—she laughs and says fate wanted her to let go of the old and start a new life. I should learn from such a positive mindset!”

Hearing this, Liu Yitong smiled faintly. Even she felt sorry for that phone book; if the old woman wanted to contact an old friend, the number would be gone. She wondered if, after she moved out, the old woman had ever felt a moment of regret at being unable to contact a passing guest like her.

Knowing the old landlady was determined to start anew and that their relationship wasn’t deep, Liu Yitong didn’t want to intrude. She ended the chat with the new tenant.

Before leaving the now-unfamiliar neighborhood, she couldn’t help but look back into the window at that new bed. A brand-new steel frame—not the creaking old wooden bed she had used.

A fire had consumed the memories of her time there, as well as the traces of the night she slept with Ruan Minxue after the first marking.

Liu Yitong lowered her eyes. A sudden sting pricked her heart like a needle—a very brief pain that made her wonder if it was just neuralgia. She realized belatedly that her curiosity about whether the old woman wanted to contact her was a mask for a deeper, more subtle unrest:

Curiosity. Just curiosity.

She wanted to know if, after the marking, Ruan Minxue had ever returned to this place to look for her.

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