The Whole World Is Waiting for Me and My Ex-Girlfriend to Remarry (Entertainment Industry) - Chapter 5

The General held her sword across the Seventh Princess’s nape.

It was an unfamiliar posture—a blending and overlapping of shadows, a mysterious interplay of light and dark.

Dong Huaci didn’t respond to Zhong Qing’s words. She merely nodded again, somewhat hurriedly—or perhaps this nod was natural, and the “hurry” was simply a reflection of Dong Huaci’s current state of mind.

Between them, there was an eternally existing, unique tension. This subtle atmosphere, belonging only to Dong Huaci and Zhong Qing, acted like a natural barrier against the gaze of others. Even if they were just standing there, facing each other in silence and stalemate, the space felt as though it had no room for a third person to step in and exchange pleasantries.

They had no time left to practice the scene. After the previous “tossing of the brick,” Director Liu Miao’s patience was primarily reserved for scrutinizing Zhong Qing.

“Marry or die.”

Zhong Qing spoke.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Had it begun? Dong Huaci stood there, feeling as though she were in a state between dreaming and waking. Who was marrying? Who was dying? These questions bubbled in her mind, but as she struggled to recall the plot, her eyes grew misty. Her thoughts drifted toward more entangled, emotional matters—sticky and damp. Sweat poured from her body, making her feel as if she were truly standing in a scene of desert dust and thick black mist, with nowhere to lean and no way out. Before her remained only Zhong Qing’s deathly cold face, which had become like an oasis in the desert—a place that might offer a spark of life, worth a final, desperate gamble.

The Seventh Princess forgot that General Qian was not a block of ice that could melt into a sweet spring; she was a sharp waning moon—bright, yet cold.

Dong Huaci spoke with an imposing aura, yet a faint thirst was hidden beneath the surface: “This Princess will never marry into such a desolate wasteland.”

According to the script’s prompts, the Seventh Princess should have been more furious and manic, lashing out at the female lead. However, because Dong Huaci’s subconscious wanted to maintain her dignity in front of Zhong Qing, she remained standing like a steadfast pine, despite having initiated the meeting to beg for help. She maintained her poise, appearing overly serious: “The concubine’s rebellion… the court is already shaken. General, you should stop this wedding procession immediately and escort me back. How can you remain deluded by her and assist in such tyranny?”

Her words sounded like justice and heavenly law were on her side, yet the tail end of Dong Huaci’s voice trembled slightly. Her deep-seated fear and avoidance of Zhong Qing perfectly matched the Seventh Princess’s current situation: knowing the tide had turned, yet desperately clutching to her status and the “Way of Heaven,” a mere paper tiger at the end of her rope.

“Do you still think you are that pampered Seventh Princess who kills or spares based on a whim?”

Slow and icy—this was classic Zhong Qing. Because General Qian’s role had limited screen time, the character setting wasn’t fully fleshed out, so Zhong Qing delivered this line with a touch of nonchalance, mixing in some of her real-life style. This was very different from Guan Feili’s earlier approach—and this specific manner was one Dong Huaci used to use frequently to deal with Zhong Qing.

The more one side collapsed into hysterics, the more the other side remained cruel and distant.

Having finished her line, General Qian remained composed, even finding the leisure to adjust her sword.

Dong Huaci froze.

The director hadn’t called “cut.” Earlier, she had only reached this point with Guan Feili before being interrupted. The crossover between Dong Huaci’s reality and the dream intensified; now it was her turn to become the hysterical madwoman. In the face of death, who could remain dignified?

“General Qian. My today is your tomorrow.” The Seventh Princess suddenly let out a cold sneer. “You are also a woman. Since ancient times, generals do not live to see their hair turn white, and even fewer women die of old age on the battlefield. When the cunning rabbit is dead, the hound is cooked. When you are no longer useful, at best… you will be like me, married off to someone you dislike, someone disgusting. At worst…”

General Qian didn’t even give her a direct look: “Seventh Princess, please return to your carriage.”

“General Qian.” The Seventh Princess’s expression twitched as if surprised by the General’s indifference. She paused. “If you are willing, I can promise you that the Chen Dynasty will have its first female Duke of a different surname.” Dong Huaci did not act “hideous” as the script suggested; instead, she chose to show weakness. She stepped forward slowly, her beautiful eyes wide and round. “All of this, between heaven and earth, rests upon your single decision today.”

Too close.

The scent entwined around them. In the face of life and death, her gaze was unexpectedly sensual. The blurry shadows and thoughts in Dong Huaci’s heart grew more numerous; a dense layer of sweat covered her back. She was nearly moved to tears—crying from the heat—while repeatedly thinking: Why hasn’t the director called cut? Why did I walk toward Zhong Qing?

Suddenly, the sword touched her neck. The icy chill Dong Huaci had anticipated took on a physical form, like the gentle lick of a snake’s tongue.

The tension reached its peak; Zhong Qing had finally drawn her sword.

However, she didn’t point it at Dong Huaci’s chest. Instead, she laid it directly across the back of Dong Huaci’s neck.

In this position, Zhong Qing used the movement to pull Dong Huaci closer to her.

This pressure brought Dong Huaci extremely close to her side. Dong Huaci’s legs nearly gave way; her waist pressed against Zhong Qing’s hand—whether it was voluntary or forced by the situation was entirely unclear. The problem was that at this moment, the entire center of gravity fell onto those hands. How did it come to this? Even through layers of period costumes, this was… too close for them.

Dong Huaci was on the verge of tears in every sense of the word. Zhong Qing’s lines finally followed: “If you do not marry, it is a violation of the imperial decree. I will kill you before the wedding takes place.”

No object, no definite term—it was a very subtle line. The heat made Dong Huaci hallucinate; she almost thought this was something the real Zhong Qing had once said to her. Had it happened? What if it really had? Yes… if it were her, she might have said such nonsense in a moment of passion once…

Right then, the director called “cut.”

Dong Huaci collapsed onto the ground in relief, gasping for air. Many people on set rushed to help her.

Zhong Qing, of course, was not among them. At that moment, she was also surrounded by people fanning her and taking her props.

The director’s satisfaction was unmistakable; Liu Miao didn’t seem to like actors who were too emotionally reserved. She offered no specific critique, only pointing at the two of them while gesturing to someone nearby. What happened next was a blur to Dong Huaci. She was later taken to a rest area by Shi Xiaonan and Qiao Yi, where she downed several gulps of mineral water, finally easing the misery of the high-temperature costume rehearsal.

But Zhong Qing…

It was hard for Dong Huaci not to overthink, but she didn’t want to, nor could she understand anything. She and Zhong Qing, at this time and place, were both career-oriented people. That screen test was likely just a case of reaching the same goal through different paths—a coincidence of professional excellence. Two days later, just as Dong Huaci was preparing to choose her next audition script, she suddenly learned that Director Liu Miao had cast her as the Seventh Princess.

Dong Huaci was both happy and unhappy.

She asked Qiao Yi, “Do you think the director chose me because of… because of me? Or because the chemistry in that scene was good? Or simply because of our hype?”

Qiao Yi, less blunt than Shi Xiaonan, spoke kindly: “Comprehensive strength is still strength. Besides, Liu Miao is famous for being uncompromising. She’s very dictatorial; for certain roles, even if you’re a huge star, if you don’t fit the scene and feeling in her head, it won’t work.” She leaned in close to Dong Huaci. Over the past few days, she had been taking care of Dong Huaci’s recovery, and their relationship had progressed rapidly. “Xiao Shu, what are you thinking? If you’re worried about that person, that’s one thing; but as for the performance, I think you were definitely great.”

Dong Huaci finally felt much better. Within a short time, she adjusted her mindset and returned to being the “Happy Little Tree.”

Indeed, as expected, shortly after the leaked photos of the scene between Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci surfaced two days prior, the trending searches exploded.

The CP (Couple) name “Zhong-Shu” (Planting Trees), combined with the keyword “Audition,” actually reached the number one spot on the trending list. This time, even passers-by who clicked in out of curiosity were force-fed information about the two, causing quite a stir in public opinion.

Data monitoring showed that public sentiment was positive.

Although both had their share of “black material” and the forums were filled with fan wars, putting those two authoritative faces together simply looked “right.” Therefore, this positive turn was a pleasant surprise. The entertainment industry is, after all, about entertainment; everything else is secondary.

Furthermore, for the “double fans,” the scandals surrounding Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci were actually all related to each other.

Rumor had it that Zhong Qing had a foul temper, gave people the cold shoulder, and engaged in bullying—even throwing things—just to isolate Dong Huaci. On the other hand, Dong Huaci was rumored to be ungrateful, having abandoned the group to go solo with no friends speaking up for her, lacking professional skills, being constantly “sick,” and slacking off on stage while her teammates carried the weight. These fragmented rumors were merely evidence used to reconstruct a picture of them having once been “truly in love.”

Big fans on both sides were calling for comment control, but it was clearly becoming uncontrollable.

Some “solo fans” even posted long “quitting the fandom” essays, the gist of which was: “Of all the scripts to choose, you had to pick the one with scenes against that woman. You’re clearly still lingering on the past and have been lying to the fans all along.”

As a result, CP fans took screenshots of these posts to use as even bigger jokes.

For those who shipped them as a pair, it was like a holiday.

In the entertainment industry, the fan base of Dong Huaci and Zhong Qing was unique: the power of the CP fans was greater than that of the solo fans, which is rare for any celebrity. The industry is full of celebrity couples who actually dated and broke up, but usually, after a breakup, the fans split off into their own camps. These two, however, presented a strange phenomenon: after their “breakup,” their fame increased, and their CP fans grew in number.

The “Zhong-Shu” CP had a dedicated forum on a certain social platform called “The Secret Tree-Planting and Flower-Nurturing Emotional Sharing Base.” It gathered the “iron-blooded” fans who looked for every hint of romance between Zhong Qing and Dong Huaci. The fans called themselves “Tree-Planters,” and their group activities were called “Starting Work—Have You Planted a Tree Today?”

After a year of “cooling off” with “no joint appearances and no interaction,” those who remained were mostly high-loyalty fans. If coming out of the airport one after the other was called “picking up rare trash,” and an award ceremony was called “blood sugar,” then this co-starring in a drama was called “sugar so sweet it’s lethal.”

Dialogue! Eye contact! Interaction!

“It’s been a year, fellow Tree-Planters! I’ve finally lived to see this day!”

“They aren’t just in the same frame; they have dialogue. I told you they got back together ages ago.”

“I knew five years couldn’t just end in a ‘BE’ (Bad Ending). They definitely can’t let go of each other, boo-hoo.”

At that moment, one of the forum moderators, a user named “Dian Dian,” started a new thread.

“Stay calm, this is a small scene. They’re in the same production; the ‘melon’ (gossip) is guaranteed to be ripe.”

As soon as this was posted, fans followed with comments.

“Melon! Melon! No one questions Mother Dian’s authority! Mother, our garden has finally grown a melon!”

“Upstairs 0.0, shouldn’t melons grow in the ground?”

“Xiao Shu finally stopped hiding from Qing-zai in front of the cameras.”

“Sigh, Qing must have been deeply hurt back then, otherwise why wouldn’t she even help Xiao Shu up?”

“Why are you guys still obsessing over the ‘helping up’ thing today? Mother Dian said they’re entering the production. Tonight, I’m writing a ‘reunited ABO’ fanfic (smile emoji). PM me if you want it.”

“So when exactly are they joining the production?”

Dian Dian replied again: “Within two weeks.”

It is undeniable that sometimes, fans are even better informed than the people working in the industry. After a week of gatherings with other lead actors, incense burning ceremonies, the official filming start, press conferences, and a series of other trivial matters, Dong Huaci officially joined the cast of The Phoenix Decree. However, up until then, Zhong Qing had not appeared because she played a cameo role and was currently only responsible for online promotion. This meant that after that screen test, they had not had any private meetings or contact.

However, based on the filming schedule, cameo scenes are often scheduled early to get them out of the way. Therefore, due to work, the time until she and Zhong Qing were forced to meet again was, surprisingly, the second day after she officially joined the set.