Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 96

Washing one’s face was such an ordinary thing. Ever since leaving the hospital, Qi Siyu had never helped Gu Qing wash her face, nor had Gu Qing ever asked her to.

At the sink, Gu Qing peeled off her facial mask, revealing a face plump with collagen—so soft and bouncy it made one want to take a bite.

Unfortunately, the lingering serum on her skin stopped Qi Siyu from acting on that thought. She obediently turned on the tap and gently cupped water into Gu Qing’s face.

It was an awkward angle; standing beside her meant she could only use one hand. After a moment’s thought, Qi Siyu stepped behind her—directly behind—encircling Gu Qing entirely in her arms.

From over her shoulder, Qi Siyu wiggled her fingers in front of Gu Qing’s face.

“Look, Gu Qing—my arms and hands are this long just so I can wash your face properly.”

“Mhm.” Gu Qing bit down on one of the fingers that had stroked her cheek—and, frankly, her whole body—her teeth rolling gently from side to side.

It didn’t hurt; if anything, it tickled, a soft, teasing numbness.

Then Gu Qing’s tongue flicked over Qi Siyu’s fingertip. Qi Siyu’s throat tightened instantly, a small flame sparking in her chest, burning through her soul, urging her to find an outlet.

“We’re supposed to be washing your face!” Qi Siyu didn’t dare move the trapped hand, but she still had another.

That free hand slid quickly to Gu Qing’s waist, fingers flitting like she was playing the piano—a perfect case of “besieging Wei to rescue Zhao.”

Sure enough, the ticklishly sensitive Gu Qing forgot all about the finger in her mouth. She instinctively leaned back—straight into the soft swell of Qi Siyu’s chest.

Qi Siyu’s arms closed around her. She chuckled darkly. “Can’t run now, can you?”

“Then hurry up and wash my face.” Trapped, Gu Qing chose to change tactics—or rather, return to the main point.

Qi Siyu dropped the teasing and started washing seriously.

In the mirror, Gu Qing’s face soon turned fresh and clean, water droplets beading over luminous skin like crystal tofu—so tempting it made Qi Siyu swallow unconsciously.

“Not bad, right? Remember to give Master Qi a five-star review.”

“Right now you’re only getting one.” Gu Qing’s low chuckle came with a pointed look through the mirror, those smoky gray eyes carrying a blatant suggestion.

Qi Siyu licked her lips, desire flickering in her gaze, though her voice remained prim. “Customer, this isn’t proper.”

Gu Qing turned toward her, their faces now inches apart, breaths mingling. “Really?”

Qi Siyu couldn’t hold back. She gave an exaggerated “munch” and bit her cheek.

She didn’t dare too hard—didn’t want to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade by tomorrow—but she did her best to leave her own scent on Gu Qing.

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The next morning, Qi Siyu was roused early by her alarm.

Yawning, she washed up. Filming wasn’t until the afternoon, but she had to be at makeup in the morning.

Her custom costumes hadn’t arrived until last night, so she hadn’t even had a trial fitting. They were supposed to come yesterday afternoon, but a delivery hiccup had delayed them, forcing today’s rush.

The makeup artist and stylist were both brimming with excitement, determined to produce a stunning look.

For this xianxia drama, the styling was elaborate and heavy. Qi Siyu’s striking features suited ornate accessories perfectly.

Her character was set as a “white moonlight” figure—pure, luminous, unforgettable—with a touch of playful mischief in her personality.

She only appeared three times, all in the leads’ memories, yet had three different custom costumes: moon-white, vivid crimson, and a quiet pale green. Each had its charm, but the red set—paired with her makeup—gave her an otherworldly, bewitching allure.

“It’s a pity,” the makeup artist sighed, “since we’re going for a look similar to Ms. Ai’s, I couldn’t bring out the full beauty of your features.”

Qi Siyu was about to cover her mouth with a demure laugh when, in the mirror, she saw Ai Hanyan storming past, fists clenched.

The makeup artist suddenly became flustered, burying herself in her brushes to look busy. Being caught speaking poorly of someone was social suicide.

Qi Siyu smiled provocatively at Ai Hanyan, making her expression darken further as she quickened her pace to leave.

Her dressing room wasn’t even in this area—she’d clearly come looking for trouble. Qi Siyu shook her head. Serves her right.

Once Ai Hanyan was gone, the makeup artist relaxed and continued her rant. Her best friend handled Ai Hanyan’s makeup and was on the verge of going mad from the actress’s endless demands.

When it came time to shoot, Qi Siyu and Ai Hanyan stood side by side. The difference was obvious without a word being said.

Afterward, Ai Hanyan reviewed the footage with Director Zheng. Her face darkened at once. “This won’t do. I want a reshoot.”

“True,” Zheng Min mused. “Where’s the makeup artist? Darken Qi’s base a little.”

Otherwise, standing next to Ai Hanyan, Qi Siyu practically glowed, drawing all eyes and making the female lead vanish into the background.

The goal was achieved—perhaps too well—but Ai Hanyan was far from happy. She wasn’t unattractive; she just couldn’t stomach needing Qi Siyu to tone herself down.

She blamed her own makeup artist for not maximizing her strengths and told her agent she wanted a replacement.

The agent agreed.

Director Zheng, exasperated, finally suggested that Qi Siyu’s makeup artist try working on Ai Hanyan.

Makeup artist’s inner monologue: A worker’s life is still a life!

The morning’s gossiping now felt painfully awkward. Ai Hanyan forced herself to accept the arrangement, but whether from nerves or bias, she decided she preferred her old look.

After scolding the artist, she switched back—leaving the second makeup artist, who had just celebrated her “freedom,” to retract her declaration and return to suffering.

After all that drama, filming resumed.

Even then, Ai Hanyan overacted, constantly NG-ing. What should have been a quick shoot dragged into the night, and the following day as well.

By the end, Qi Siyu felt utterly drained. The novelty of acting had worn off, leaving only the heavy clothes and hairpieces as a burden. She genuinely admired actors for enduring this daily.

So when Director Zheng invited her to join his next film, she quickly waved him off. “No, no, no. I have zero interest in acting.”

As a child, her father had cast her in a cameo as the younger version of his lead heroine, and she’d enjoyed a brief moment of fame. Since then, many had tried to lure her into acting on the strength of her looks alone, but she’d never been tempted.

She preferred to be in control of the entire story.

“A shame. With your looks and acting, it’s a waste not to,” Zheng Min lamented. Beautiful faces were common, but true beauty paired with acting skill was rare—especially from someone untrained who nailed it on their first try.

“What’s your next project, Director Zheng? Consider my Gu Qing for a role.” Qi Siyu’s instincts had honed in on the opportunity immediately.

Their series Which Me Do You Love had taken off thanks to Gu Qing’s popularity and heavy promotion early on, but its sustained success had relied on good storytelling.

If Gu Qing worked with a well-known director, the promotional burden would be much lighter.

Besides, while Qi Siyu specialized in suspense thrillers, Gu Qing needed to expand her range. Appearing in prestigious productions—big or small roles—was the surest way to top-tier status.

“Haha, well, my lead is still an Alpha, so there’s less screen time for other roles, but I’ll send the script over. If we can work together again, I’d be happy.” Zheng Min said happily.

“As long as the role is good, the screen time doesn’t matter,” Qi Siyu chuckled. Plenty of actors had become unforgettable “white moonlight” figures with just a single scene.

Her aim was to maximize Gu Qing’s portfolio without exhausting her. Quality mattered far more than quantity.

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Soon, it was time to record the variety show. Qi Siyu arrived with the other four core cast members.

The dressing room was huge, able to seat twenty people for makeup at once.

In addition to the five from Swordbreaker, there were five from another series, Sunburst, and five regular show guests—fifteen in all.

With everyone’s makeup artists and assistants, the room buzzed with noise.

Ai Hanyan, familiar with one of the MCs, entered alongside them, sitting close and chatting while occasionally glancing toward Qi Siyu and Gu Qing.

Qi Siyu noticed—and heightened her guard. The show, Extreme Friday, focused on mission challenges, which left plenty of room for sabotage.

Clearly, Swordbreaker’s team had paid well; the show’s main plot revolved around demonic invasion, an unending night, and the quest to find the sacred weapon Zhuxian Sword to save the world.

Five altars were hidden throughout the city. Completing tasks revealed their locations; completing altar challenges yielded clues to the sword’s fragments.

Fifteen guests meant three were undercover “polluted” agents working for the demons, tasked with stopping the others from completing the weapon.

To help Sunburst’s team stand out, the producers added a “sunlight value” stat. Everyone started with a base amount; when it hit zero, they could be “polluted” and converted.

Undercover agents could earn “dirty water” from missions—splashed onto others, it reduced sunlight value.

Every thirty minutes, players could choose to keep moving or enter a sunlight room to restore their value—but they could only check their own sunlight value inside, and staying meant sitting out for half an hour.

Skip it too long, and you risked being converted; go in, and you lost action time.

The rules were laid out in the script; the rest would be improvisation, with the producers ensuring the heroes eventually won.

Task cards were handed out individually. Qi Siyu’s was perfectly ordinary.

She immediately sought out Gu Qing—only for Gu Qing to take a half-step back.

Qi Siyu blinked.

“You’re not… an undercover agent, are you?” she asked, closing the distance and lowering her voice.

Gu Qing gave a small “Mhm.” Hiding it was pointless—Qi Siyu would find out anyway.

Qi Siyu thought for two seconds.

“Then pollute me,” she said at last. “I’ll always be on your side.”