Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 18

Back at the hotel, Tang Wangyue practically fled from the vehicle. Without waiting for Yun Chuxian, she hurried back to her room. She didn’t want to be caught on camera; she wasn’t like those people who chased the spotlight.

Watching her retreating back, a smile spread across Yun Chuxian’s face. Beside her, Bai Yu was genuinely confused. “Why is Screenwriter Tang running so fast?”

“She’s afraid of being photographed.”

Chuxian was holding a phone in her hand—one that didn’t belong to her. She wondered how long it would take for Wangyue to realize she had left it in the car.

Bai Yu offered a merciless critique from the side. “With the way Miss Tang dresses, even if she were photographed, no one would think twice. She looks like a total crew member.”

Indeed, Wangyue wore the standard “set survival kit”: cooling sleeves, an ice-silk neck gaiter that covered half her face, and a bucket hat with a brim wide enough to shield a small village. It was the uniform of a professional crew member. Some even wore sun-protection hoodies that zipped all the way up to the eyes, which was much more convenient than juggling multiple accessories. For these professionals, full-body sun protection was a must—getting a tan was one thing, but a bad sunburn could be a career-ending injury to one’s skin health.

Tang Wangyue was no exception. Despite her superior height and graceful figure, once she was wrapped in her sun-gear, there was nothing left to see.

“You should learn from her,” Chuxian teased her assistant. “Lest you turn into a chocolate bean by the end of the shoot.”

Bai Yu: “…” She strongly suspected her boss was standing up for Wangyue—or rather, using her as a shield to fire back at her. Having been an assistant for so long, she could read the subtext perfectly. “Understood, Boss. I’ll ask Screenwriter Tang for the link immediately.”

Chuxian was in a fine mood. Thinking about how she had teased Wangyue in the car until her face turned beet red made her smile widen. So the “little liar” had a side like that—did it mean Wangyue wasn’t entirely indifferent to her?

*****

Chuxian didn’t have to wait long before the doorbell rang.

When she opened it, the visitor was actually Mo Lai. Chuxian tilted her head slightly, looking behind the director, but didn’t see Wangyue. What’s the meaning of this?

“Miss Yun, is Screenwriter Tang’s phone with you?” Mo Lai asked with a polite smile.

If she hadn’t happened to see Yue get into Chuxian’s car, she never would have known they returned to the hotel together. She was shocked—was it just a ride-share, or had something happened that she didn’t know about?

Once the lead actress had left the set earlier, the “melons” were finished, and the rest of the cast and crew had no heart to continue. Filming had wrapped early. Director Sun Ran was in a foul mood, so Mo Lai had found an excuse to sneak away.

The first thing she did was knock on Wangyue’s door. It was as if Wangyue had been standing right behind it, waiting. When Wangyue saw it was her, her face fell into a look of utter exasperation.

“What’s that look for? You don’t want to see me?” Mo Lai felt a bit wounded.

Wangyue waved it off. “It’s nothing.”

How could she admit her phone was in Yun Chuxian’s car and that she was waiting for someone to return it? She had been hovering behind the door, hoping for a knock, only to have it be Mo Lai.

Mo Lai didn’t waste time. “Speak up. Why were you in Yun Chuxian’s car? Your mom called me and told me to keep an eye on you at the studio.”

“An eye on me for what?” Wangyue grumbled. She was an adult; why did she need a sitter? More importantly, she felt guilty. She hadn’t told Mo Lai about the blind date.

Mo Lai rolled her eyes. “Auntie said I should take care of you so you don’t get bullied. In my mind, having your heart stolen and being left behind once the shoot is over counts as being bullied.”

Thankfully, Wangyue’s mother had some sense and hadn’t mentioned the blind date specifically. Wangyue understood Mo Lai’s point. She wasn’t a child; she knew the status gap between her and a star like Chuxian. That was why, no matter how much the woman teased her, she tried to remain composed—even if her heart was currently lodged in her throat.

“You’ve said this a dozen times,” Wangyue said. She knew Mo Lai was worried, but her own mind was a mess.

Mo Lai patted her head. “I’m not stopping you from liking someone. It’s just that some people are for loving, and others are only meant to be idols.” In other words, she didn’t mind Wangyue being a fan, but she could see that Yue’s current state was “off.”

“I know,” Wangyue said, then tested the waters. “Sis, if I went on a blind date with a woman whose status was way higher than mine—but my family, her, and her family all agreed—how should I choose?”

Mo Lai’s eyes widened. “You mean you matched with a ‘Rich-Beautiful-Elite’ and she actually likes you?”

Wangyue felt her face grow hot. “Something like that.”

Mo Lai exhaled in relief. “You scared me! I thought you were acting weird because you were trying to ‘pluck a star.’ If it’s a blind date, it’s simple: if everyone’s on board and you like her, be together. If you don’t like her, don’t worry about the outside world.”

Don’t worry about the outside world? If she actually ended up with Yun Chuxian, the outside world would be the only thing to worry about. If Mo Lai knew the person was Chuxian, she’d probably kill her.

Wait—who said she liked Chuxian? Why was she already defaulting to that?

“So, you’re saying if I like her, I shouldn’t worry about the status gap?” Wangyue asked, honing in on the core of Mo Lai’s advice.

Mo Lai looked at her suspiciously. “Are you sure we’re talking about a blind date?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine. If she’s okay with it, her family is okay with it, and Auntie is okay with it… and you like her, then of course you can be together.”

It sounded so logical that Wangyue felt a bit dazed.

“So who is it?” Mo Lai asked hungrily. “Do I know her?”

Wangyue quickly pivoted. “Oh, by the way, my phone is in Yun Chuxian’s car.”

“Then go get it.”

“You go for me.”

Mo Lai: “…”

“What do I owe you?”

“Sis, you’re my real sister.”

Mo Lai was speechless for a moment. “Fine! I’ll go get it for you.” She couldn’t help but spoil her “younger sister,” even if that sister called her “Lai-zi.”

Wangyue’s eyes curved into a smile. “Next time Godmother asks about you, I’ll praise you until you sound like a saint.”

“You’d better.”

And so, Mo Lai appeared at Chuxian’s door.

Yun Chuxian looked at Mo Lai, masking the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “The phone is in the car. Once Bai Yu is finished with her work, I’ll have her retrieve it and bring it to Screenwriter Tang.”

“Great, thank you, Miss Yun!” Mo Lai left satisfied. She couldn’t expect a superstar to go down to the garage personally right now.

Chuxian’s room was directly across from Wangyue’s. As Mo Lai was speaking, Chuxian saw a “sneaky” head peek out from behind the opposite door.

Hiding from me?

“You’re welcome,” Chuxian called out, her voice slightly raised. “Be sure to tell Screenwriter Tang not to forget to open her door.”

“Will do! Sorry for the trouble!”

The moment Mo Lai finished, Chuxian closed her door.

Mo Lai returned to Wangyue’s room and saw her hiding behind the door. She rolled her eyes. “Did you hear that?”

“Loud and clear.”

Wangyue heard it, but she didn’t know if the person knocking later would be Bai Yu or Yun Chuxian herself. She pulled out her tablet, which had her messaging app synced. If Chuxian had been bluffing, a call to her own phone would have triggered a ringtone from across the hall. But she didn’t call; it would be too awkward.

“Still,” Mo Lai warned, “what were you doing on her trailer earlier? Guan Ming is a mad dog. If she marks you as an enemy, you’re in trouble.”

“I know.” Wangyue nodded obediently, playing the “good girl” until Mo Lai finally left twenty minutes later.

******

Tang Wangyue paced her small lounge. Should she just go over? Maybe go down to the garage with Bai Yu? But Chuxian said Bai Yu was busy.

She decided to wait. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. Shortly after dark, her doorbell rang.

“Delivery!”

Delivery? She hadn’t ordered anything. Before she could speak, the person was gone. She looked at the receipt. The recipient name was “I Am White Cloud.”

Is the sender “I Am Black Soil” then? (A play on a famous comedy duo)

Wangyue realized whose delivery it was. The room number on the receipt was hers, but the name clearly pointed to someone else. A mistake?

She hesitated, then walked across the hall and knocked on Chuxian’s door.

The door opened, and Wangyue’s breath caught. Yun Chuxian stood there with damp hair and flushed cheeks, looking as if she had just stepped out of the bath. A fine mist of moisture clung to her eyelashes. A drop of water fell from her hair, causing her to blink; the droplet slid down her face, over her chin, and vanished into her collar.

Wangyue’s gaze followed the path of the water down that elegant, white neck, where stray droplets sat like dew on flower petals. In this moment, Chuxian’s usual cool grace was utterly overwhelmed by a raw, damp sensuality. Wangyue didn’t dare look any further.

Chuxian, as if she had been expecting her, reached out and pulled her inside.

“Come in and talk. If someone sees us, they’ll misunderstand.”

The explanation made Wangyue a bit disgruntled. But a second later, Chuxian’s cool, rhythmic voice murmured, “Isn’t Screenwriter Tang the one who’s so afraid of being misunderstood?”

Wangyue’s thoughts stalled. Her heart felt as if it had been plunged into ice water on a scorching day—a sharp, refreshing jolt.

Support