Transmigrated as the Future Movie Queen's Arch-Nemesis - Chapter 30

Chapter 30

It was hard to say whether it was sadness, bitterness, or joy, but this surge of complex emotions became a torrential flood that washed over Su Mi. She held Xin Keke for a long time, patting her back gently, over and over again. Perhaps Xin Keke had never been treated with such tenderness before, so even the smallest act of kindness became an indelible part of her memory.

“Don’t cry anymore,” Su Mi said, helping Xin Keke catch her breath. “Alright, put on the bracelet and let me see.”

Xin Keke sniffled and obediently pulled away from Su Mi’s embrace. Su Mi reached over to the table, grabbed a few tissues, and leaned in to wipe Xin Keke’s face. “Look at you, all wronged and crying like a little calico cat.”

“Mn…”

Xin Keke bowed her head, letting Su Mi fuss over her face. Su Mi tossed the wet tissues aside, took the new bracelet from its box, and fastened it onto Xin Keke’s wrist. Xin Keke remained completely still, as quiet as a kitten. Her wrists were fair and slender, and the rose-gold chain against her skin made her complexion look even more translucent.

“This is… very expensive…” Xin Keke whispered. But the undisguised joy in her eyes when she looked at the bracelet was plain for Su Mi to see.

“It’s not so bad. When you give a gift, you have to give something the person actually likes. You didn’t want to look at the cosmetics counter yesterday, remember?” Su Mi held Xin Keke’s hand up to inspect it from different angles. “Yeah, the moment I saw it, I knew it would suit you perfectly. My taste is still pretty top-tier, haha!”

Xin Keke was surprised. “So that’s why you wanted me to browse yesterday…”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I had to improvise and cram for the exam.” Su Mi gently lowered her hand. “Anyway, I’ve been too busy preparing for your birthday to commute with you these past few days. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be going with you every day.” I’ll make sure to slap some sense into those people who love to gossip behind your back. I’ll let them know that Su Mi is Xin Keke’s backbone.

Xin Keke seemed to recall the rumors and shook her head quickly. “It’s okay, you go handle your own things! I’m not a child; I can manage on my own…”

“But I want to pick you up.” Su Mi smiled brightly. “I want to see you every day, eat good food with you, and make sure you’re happy every single day.”

This was the truth. If the Su Mi who had first transmigrated only treated Xin Keke well to save her own skin, the current Su Mi did it for more than that. Xin Keke possessed a peculiar kind of charm—a magnetic quality that drew people’s gaze and attention. When she was sad, she made others resonate with her pain. Being around her, Su Mi often found herself feeling a deep sense of protectiveness.

Infection, a high-level ability—or perhaps, the raw talent of a great actor. And so, not just to return to the real world or keep the original host’s life, the current Su Mi sincerely wanted to be good to Xin Keke.

Under Su Mi’s direct gaze and words, Xin Keke’s cheeks turned completely crimson. She turned her head away in a hurry. “I… I want to eat the cake…”

“Oh! Right, right, I almost forgot about the cake!” Su Mi clapped her hands. She opened the packaging and slid the small cake out. “You’re okay with eating cake at night, right?”

“Since… it only happens once a year…” Xin Keke muttered, “I’ll just eat a little bit.” She was avoiding Su Mi’s eyes, her fingers nervously twisting together. Su Mi had thought she might refuse, but seeing her reaction, it was clear that Xin Keke was genuinely looking forward to it.

Su Mi took out the five-inch cake and handed the plastic knife to Xin Keke. “Come on, try it. If it’s good, we’ll order another one later.”

“Mn.”

Xin Keke stared at the design on the cake for a long time. Unable to bear cutting into it, she pulled out her phone to take a photo.

“Do you want me to take one for you?” Su Mi asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Xin Keke said. “The cake is beautiful. If I’m in the photo, it’ll ruin it.”

“How could that—”

“I’m cutting it now.”

Xin Keke interrupted, picking up the plastic knife. She cut a large piece of the fruit topping and gave it to Su Mi, then cut a piece for herself. The golden and purple filling, packed with diced peaches and topped with pale pink cream, looked joyful enough just sitting on the plate.

“I remember you like sour things, so I told the shopkeeper to use a passion fruit and blueberry jam base,” Su Mi explained as she watched Xin Keke inspect the layers. “Try it and see if you like the flavor?”

Xin Keke nodded, used her fork to slice off a tiny piece, and popped it into her mouth. Su Mi suddenly felt nervous. She watched Xin Keke’s face like a grade-schooler waiting for a teacher to grade their exam. The little fox’s cheeks puffed out as she chewed carefully, as if trying to savor every last drop of flavor.

“…Is it good?”

“…”

Xin Keke suddenly put down her plate and fork. Su Mi’s heart leapt into her throat, terrified that Xin Keke might say she didn’t like it. But Xin Keke blinked, looking puzzled. “This cake… it’s so sweet. It’s really delicious.”

“Eh??” That wasn’t the reaction she expected. Seeing Xin Keke shovel another bite into her mouth, Su Mi asked, “Isn’t cake supposed to be sweet?”

“I thought all whipped cream was sour. But this cream is sweet—it’s so good.”

“Why would it be sour—”

Su Mi’s voice cut off abruptly. …Sour cream.

Whipped cream on a cake couldn’t be sour. Even if it was lemon-flavored, the sweetness should be the dominant note, with only a hint of acidity. Under what circumstances would cream be sour? Only if…

“Back when I was in the orphanage, a rich man came to visit and bought us all cream cakes,” Xin Keke’s voice interrupted Su Mi’s thoughts. “I had never seen such a thing before. All the other kids ate theirs in two or three bites, but I secretly hid my piece.”

Su Mi didn’t speak, watching her profile with a pang of sadness. She could already imagine how the story ended.

“By the end, it was far too spoiled to be eaten, so I finally ate that piece of cream cake. But… it was so sour. It wasn’t sweet at all.”

“But I still thought that piece of cake was delicious. Su Mi, did you know? From that day on, I thought all cream cakes were supposed to be sour…”

“But this cake… it’s so sweet. It’s delicious.”

“It’s better than anything I’ve ever eaten.”

As she spoke, Xin Keke’s voice grew heavy with melancholy. She seemed to be reliving those painful days—days that couldn’t be forgotten, days that couldn’t be erased.

“It’s all in the past now.”

Su Mi finally spoke. She grabbed Xin Keke’s shoulders, turned her body straight, and looked her in the eyes. “Xin Keke, all of that is in the past. You will become a wonderful, wonderful actor. You will become the brightest star in this industry, and you will make everyone look up to you.”

“So you have to keep going. You have to be yourself.”

At that moment, Su Mi couldn’t name the feeling in her heart. Those simple settings the author had written were meant to serve the plot, mere passing mentions in the text. But when she was truly in this world, she realized that even the simplest of settings could represent the entire weight of a person’s past. A single, casual sentence from an author could become a mountain pressing down on someone’s life. Even if the author had no idea this world existed, even if they were unintentional—it had still happened.

Su Mi couldn’t change Xin Keke’s past. But since that was the case, she would protect Xin Keke’s present and the future she deserved. Su Mi tightened her grip on her shoulders. “You can definitely do it. I believe in you.”

They were so close that Su Mi could see her own reflection in Xin Keke’s eyes. In those same eyes, she saw uncertainty and panic, and a flicker of faint, hidden gratitude that Xin Keke herself hadn’t even noticed.

“…”

Xin Keke was silent for a long time. They stayed in that position, gazing at each other for a long while. Eventually, Xin Keke nodded forcefully. “I will.”

For the first time, she didn’t look away. Traces of redness and swelling remained at the corners of her eyes, but her expression was firm. “I’ll work hard. I’ll become an outstanding actor. Thank you.”

“Mn-hmm.” Su Mi pinched her cheek. “That’s more like it. You know, you look best when you smile.”

Perhaps this day would be different for both Su Mi and Xin Keke. At the very least, for Su Mi, she would always remember that after she said those words, a sky full of stars suddenly fell into Xin Keke’s eyes. They were bright, and they were beautiful.

All in all, Su Mi was very satisfied with Xin Keke’s birthday. Despite the twists and turns, the outcome was good!

The running around had truly exhausted Su Mi. After celebrating, tidying up the room, checking out, and stuffing the remaining cake into the hotel’s mini-fridge, she collapsed into bed, swearing to sweep away the exhaustion of the past few days. When she opened her eyes again, it was already nearly 12:00 PM.

She didn’t know when Xin Keke had left. She had originally planned to drop her off, but seeing how tired Su Mi was—and knowing that her internal knot had been untied—Xin Keke hadn’t woken her and had gone to work on her own.

Su Mi opened her phone and scanned it. There were no new messages from the crew; everything seemed calm. She groaned in bed, sent a “Good morning” message to Xin Keke, and started scrolling through Weibo while waiting for her “little fox” to reply.

As she scrolled, she noticed something wasn’t right. Having transmigrated into the original host, she was using her Weibo account. Since the host worked in the entertainment industry, she naturally followed various directors and big names. By chance, Su Mi’s feed brought up Director Song’s Weibo.

He was easy to find—it was just his name plus an English suffix. His latest post was a concept poster for their drama: the four girls from the dorm standing on a staircase, each with a different expression, and quite a bit of character. For fans, it was a good place to dig for information about the roles.

She was just about to click “Retweet” and leave a supportive comment when she noticed the atmosphere below wasn’t exactly peaceful.

#ThoseYearsThe PosterforOurSummerExperienceisPlagiarized#—a blue tag, very conspicuous.

Even as she clicked on the post, the number of retweets and comments continued to rise. A barrage of curses flooded in, mostly accusing them of plagiarism, though a few comments from the fan clubs or major fan accounts of Shi Yaya, Ye Luo, and Xiao Ai were calling for rationality. There were even some who claimed that a “small-budget, doomed drama” like theirs was likely doing this on purpose just to stir up controversy and get people to pay attention.

As Su Mi scrolled, it seemed everyone was only focused on the carnival of accusation, even posting side-by-side comparisons of the original posters. It looked like this wasn’t going to end easily.

“Are you awake?”

Just then, Xin Keke replied to her message. Su Mi forwarded Director Song’s Weibo to her. A while later, Xin Keke replied: “No wonder Director Song seemed to be in a bad mood. The atmosphere on set today is indeed strange.”

If this were a deliberate attempt to gain traction, they would have expected the backlash. A director as experienced as Director Song wouldn’t do something like this. That meant he had likely been conned by the third-party company he’d outsourced the poster design to. They had wanted to create some buzz since the production cycle was short and the release was coming up, but instead, they’d “blown up” in the worst way possible.

However, a director with Director Song’s personality would never be happy with this kind of fame. Su Mi’s former game company had once fallen into a similar scandal: someone had discovered that assets given to an outsourcing firm were plagiarized, which had ended up hurting a lot of people.

Su Mi kept scrolling. In the beginning, Director Song had even been willing to give the lead role to Su Mi just to repay her grandmother’s kindness. Su Mi couldn’t stand by and watch a person who valued gratitude fall into such a predicament.

I have to help Director Song.