Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 104 EXTRA 4

Qi Siyu hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time she reached the door, Gu Qing was just pulling it open.

Their gazes met. Qi Siyu flashed her a goofy grin.

Gu Qing’s lips curved slightly. “Come in.”

On the dining table sat two steaming bowls of noodles, with chopsticks and soup spoons neatly laid out.

“Wow, it smells amazing.” Whether it was her imagination or not, Qi Siyu felt the whole room was steeped in the aroma of eggs and oil.

“Eat.” Gu Qing pulled out a chair for her, and Qi Siyu murmured a thank-you.

She waited until Gu Qing had sat down and taken the first bite before lifting a strand of noodles herself, twirling it delicately and slipping it into her mouth.

The tangy sweetness of the tomatoes perfectly balanced the richness of the scrambled eggs, without losing their fragrance. The noodles were springy and smooth, each chew satisfying.

“These noodles are really good. Did you get them at the supermarket?” Qi Siyu asked.

“Hand-rolled,” Gu Qing replied evenly.

Qi Siyu’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing. I have zero talent when it comes to cooking.”

She racked her brain for a compliment, but it seemed every book she’d read had gone in one ear and out the other—nothing came to mind.

Watching Gu Qing eat in focused silence, Qi Siyu decided not to overthink it. Wasn’t the best praise for a cook to simply finish every last bite?

When they were done, Qi Siyu leaned back in her chair, suppressing the urge to burp, and rubbed her slightly full stomach. “Let me do the dishes.”

“There’s a dishwasher.” Gu Qing had already gathered her bowl and chopsticks as she spoke.

Qi Siyu blinked, then quickly got up to follow. Even if she couldn’t help much, she had to at least show willingness—something her parents had always taught her.

After watching the dishes disappear into the dishwasher, she found herself without an excuse to linger. She thanked Gu Qing again for the meal and headed upstairs.

The system couldn’t help commenting: [Host, you just now looked exactly like a big dog catching the scent of a delicious bone.]

Gu Qing ignored it. The system tried again: [Isn’t your progress a bit slow? It’s been over ten days and you haven’t even held hands.]

Mm, no rush, Gu Qing said calmly.

The system choked on its words. It missed Qi Siyu dearly—how could it endure following someone with absolutely no sense of urgency?

Back home, Qi Siyu wasted no time. She went straight to the bathroom, sorted the clothes from the laundry hamper, and tossed them into the washing machine.

Her reasoning? Gu Qing fed me, so I’ll do her laundry. Fair trade.

Rain or no rain, work had to go on. With the lead roles already cast yesterday, today was for auditioning minor characters.

The production wasn’t large, so as director, Qi Siyu handled much of the work personally.

Once she got busy, she didn’t have time for idle thoughts.

It wasn’t until she got home that evening that she remembered—Gu Qing’s clothes were still in the machine.

The wash-dry cycle had left them warm, soft, and fluffy. Qi Siyu took them out, folded them neatly with cheeks flushed, and placed them in a paper bag.

She’d give them to Gu Qing when Gu Qing came to return her clothes—an even trade.

The rain went on for days, and without their morning runs, Qi Siyu and Gu Qing didn’t cross paths.

The clothes seemed forgotten—Gu Qing never brought them up.

The next time they met was at the photoshoot for the cast’s costume stills. Gu Qing arrived right on time, her face calm, though her chest rose and fell from hurried breaths.

“Sorry, the taxi broke down on the way,” Gu Qing apologized.

“You’re not late. Go get changed and try on your look.” Qi Siyu discreetly studied her—after nearly a week apart, it seemed Gu Qing had lost a little weight.

The drama was set in modern day, so styling was simple. Within half an hour, Gu Qing emerged in her first look.

It was her “fallen from grace” costume: a faded pair of jeans and a white shirt worn thin from years of use.

Her hair was tied back simply, stray bangs pinned with a cheap black clip.

Her makeup gave her a sickly, worn-out look, as if her shoulders carried an invisible mountain.

“Not bad.” Qi Siyu circled her for a closer look. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Gu Qing’s figure seemed leaner, her exposed ankles slender and defined.

The novel the drama was based on was long, but the adaptation covered only a third—still, Gu Qing had thirteen different looks in total.

She spent the entire day cycling through outfits for the director’s review, barely touching her boxed lunch at midday.

They didn’t wrap until eight in the evening. Qi Siyu, as director, invited the team out for dinner.

For some, a team meal was as tiring as overtime—new actors either buried themselves in their food or busied themselves buttering up the director and screenwriter.

Gu Qing, however, sat back like she was watching a show. She neither lowered her head nor joined the chatter, quietly eating her meal.

Qi Siyu noticed she’d barely eaten before setting down her chopsticks. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Not to your taste? I saw you didn’t eat much.”

Gu Qing shook her head. “Maintaining my figure.”

“Right, right, we actors have to watch what we eat.”

“Yeah, I can never resist, and my manager’s merciless when it comes to punishing me for it.”

…

Others quickly jumped in, the noise drowning out Qi Siyu’s attempt at conversation. She could only squeeze in a quiet, “Don’t go hungry.”

“Mm,” Gu Qing replied.

When dinner was over, Qi Siyu, Gu Qing, and Shi Ying shared a taxi. Only then did the two get a moment alone.

Shi Ying, claiming motion sickness, took the front seat, leaving the back to Qi Siyu and Gu Qing.

Qi Siyu’s head felt a little light—she’d had some to drink, not enough to be drunk, but enough to make her uncomfortable. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the small space, but to Qi Siyu it wasn’t unpleasant. On closer inhale, there was a faint chocolate sweetness.

Was the wine chocolate-flavored? she wondered drowsily, her nose twitching as she sniffed again—until the tip brushed against Gu Qing’s collarbone.

Gu Qing had her head turned toward the window, one arm propped up against the frame, supporting her forehead. Her lips curved faintly as she silently watched Qi Siyu’s unconscious, puppy-like movements.

When Qi Siyu’s nose bumped her collarbone and her head nestled closer, Gu Qing finally moved—lifting her free hand to stop the startled girl from jerking away.

The back of her head met the dry warmth of Gu Qing’s palm, and Qi Siyu sobered instantly, her cheeks blazing. “S-sorry, my head was fuzzy. I caught a nice chocolate smell and just… followed it.”

“It’s fine.” Gu Qing withdrew her hand.

But the warmth lingered at the back of Qi Siyu’s head, and maybe it was that softness—or the alcohol—that gave her the courage to finally ask the question she’d been holding onto all day. “The rain’s been annoying lately. What’ve you been up to at home?”

“I wasn’t home. I went back to my hometown—had to deal with a distant relative.” Gu Qing’s body in this world had no real social ties, but there were always people eyeing her as an easy target, trying to take the inheritance she’d been left.

She’d gone back to resolve the matter.

The phrasing made Qi Siyu’s mind fill with question marks—‘deal with a relative’?

“I washed and ironed your clothes. I’ll give them to you later,” Gu Qing added.

That jogged Qi Siyu’s memory—Gu Qing’s tracksuit was still with her. “I washed the ones you left with me, too. I’ll give them to you later.”

“Thank you.” Gu Qing’s gaze met hers. “Director Qi treats me so well, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

In the darkness, Qi Siyu felt fully seen, as though Gu Qing’s gaze stripped away every layer of defense.

“Then marry her,” Shi Ying’s voice suddenly chimed in from the front, her teasing tone followed by a chuckle.

Qi Siyu’s heart pounded like a drum, and she didn’t dare look at Gu Qing.

“Then I’d be the one taking advantage,” Gu Qing said evenly.

“That’s not true,” Qi Siyu corrected earnestly. “You’re exceptional. Within three years, you’ll have your place in the industry.”

Gu Qing found her so adorable when she was serious—she wanted to hold her and press a kiss to the corner of her lips.

But not now. They were still strangers, and for a brief moment, her mood dipped, though she hid it perfectly.

“Mm, I’ll work hard,” she said instead.

The talk of “marrying her” ended there.

Back home, they exchanged their freshly laundered clothes with ceremonial solemnity, as if completing an important handover.

The next day, the sun finally returned, and they resumed their morning runs together.

But just a few days later, it was time to join the set.

Qi Siyu wasn’t one for pomp, but Shi Ying loved it, so the opening ceremony was held with due formality.

Gu Qing received a red envelope, which she tucked into her bag.

Once the rituals were done, actors without scenes could leave. As the female lead, Gu Qing’s work began immediately.

The first day’s scenes were simple and wrapped quickly. The cast and crew then headed out for a celebratory meal.

As director, Qi Siyu was inevitably toasted repeatedly, especially with Shi Ying egging people on—her glass was refilled again and again.

Gu Qing watched her drink in apparent calm, though inside, she was already looking forward to seeing a tipsy Qi Siyu.

The crew’s hotel was just next door. After an evening of food and drink, it was only a short walk back to rest.

Shi Ying and the producer slung arms over each other’s shoulders, heading off to karaoke. Qi Siyu stubbornly insisted she wasn’t drunk, staggering on her own toward her room.

Gu Qing trailed silently after her.

Despite the weaving path, Qi Siyu managed to find the right door, muttering the code to unlock it.

Just as she was about to shut it, Gu Qing slipped inside.

Qi Siyu tilted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Gu Qing guided her further in and closed the door behind them. “Unspoken rules.”