Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 41

Yun Chuxian always possessed the ability to effortlessly sway her heart, making Wangyue yield without a second thought.

But alcohol… alcohol was a different beast. It had handed control over to her physical limits. With her pathetic tolerance, drinking that much had caused her to collapse straight into Chuxian’s arms.

As her consciousness returned and she replayed her terrible performance, Wangyue wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. How could I just pass out? They were so close—one more step and their relationship would have taken a leap.

It turns out that when a person drinks too much, they are functionally useless.

Wangyue felt like the ultimate loser who let the “cooked duck” fly right out of her mouth. Forget it, she told herself. Some things will happen when they’re meant to. She could only conclude that the timing simply wasn’t right.

Truthfully, when Chuxian had been straddling her lap, kissing her like a queen looking down on a subject, Wangyue had felt like she was floating. She would have gladly knelt at Chuxian’s feet forever. There was nothing wrong with being a “subject” to her queen.

Now, just seeing Chuxian made Wangyue feel feverish—partly out of embarrassment for that night, and partly out of sheer infatuation.

As the weather cooled, the shoot at the film studio was nearing its end. This wasn’t a “wrap,” however; the crew was just moving to different locations. Most of the plot had been filmed, but many scenes required on-site locations.

The A and B units were about to split up. After Liu Cheng was kicked out, only two screenwriters remained: Tang Wangyue and Lu Zhan. They had to be divided between the units.

Wangyue had assumed she would follow the A-unit, but the Director ultimately kept Lu Zhan there. Wangyue only later found out that Lu Zhan was the younger sister of President Lu from Jingwei Video—an actual, blood-related sister. Everyone has a background, Wangyue thought. This industry is truly hard to navigate.

It made sense. An on-set screenwriter might not have much power, but it was a comfortable position for someone with money and time. Lu Zhan’s salary was 20,000 yuan a month, and since the script was already written, there wasn’t much to do. Perhaps her constant bickering with Liu Cheng had just been a way to keep from looking idle.

Wangyue had gotten in through Mo Lai, but the Director only kept her on because she was the original author. Naturally, Lu Zhan’s preferences came first.

Besides, Lu Zhan was decent to her—she didn’t make things difficult and was always happy to share industry gossip. For Lu Zhan, The Eldest Princess was a way to rebuild her resume after her previous big-budget project flopped so hard it nearly took the lead actors’ careers down with it. Since Jingwei Video was just a subsidiary, her brother couldn’t just give her another big project immediately; she had to study under Sun Ran to “sediment” her skills before making a comeback.

Lu Zhan was staying with A-unit. Wangyue didn’t mind; she had sold four scripts recently. As long as one was a hit, she wouldn’t have to worry about money. So, when Sun Ran asked for her opinion on joining B-unit, Wangyue—who was currently unsure of how to face Chuxian anyway—agreed.

*****

The day before the units split, Wangyue wanted to say goodbye to Chuxian. It would be at least a month before the units reunited.

“The crew isn’t filming today, just packing gear,” a staff member told her. “Miss Yun left last night. I heard she has an event in Ning’an today.”

Ning’an wasn’t far, but Wangyue felt a pang of sympathy. Chuxian was so busy she had to work even during the travel breaks.

Wangyue pulled out her phone and checked her chat with Chuxian. Nothing. No message.

Did she forget? Or did she not want to tell me? Is she… angry?

Her mind was a mess. Mo Lai, covered in sweat from packing, walked past and nudged her. “Packed your bags yet? You’re going with the B-unit van. Don’t forget, we’re filming in a rural area this time. Go buy supplies. Don’t buy giant bottles of body wash; buy soap bars to save space. It’ll make our lives easier for the next month.”

“Okay.”

As Wangyue walked, she typed a message: Sister, I didn’t see you today?

She felt like a lost puppy, desperate to know where its owner had gone. She already knew where Chuxian was—she’d seen the event info online—but she needed an excuse to reach out. Is she mad because I’ve been avoiding her? Chuxian had left without a word, and now she wasn’t even replying.

Wangyue slapped her own forehead. She had only been avoiding her because she felt humiliated for passing out. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be with her. Beneath her calm surface was a stormy, volcanic eruption of feelings; just thinking about that night made her heart skip. She mourned the whiskey she’d chugged like water. She had vastly overestimated her limits.

******

After packing and buying enough instant noodles and supplies to survive a rural shoot, Wangyue sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone.

Chuxian still hadn’t replied.

Wangyue searched Chuxian’s name again. The brand event video had already been uploaded. It was only an hour-long event, so it was over by now. Chuxian should be in her car.

Is she really angry?

Wangyue clicked on the video. Standing next to Chuxian was a male star, Su Chen. The comments were buzzing:

[“Su Chen’s a successful fanboy, I’m so jealous.”]

[“Look at him grinning, his teeth are practically falling out of his mouth.”]

[“The look of adoration in his eyes is impossible to hide.”]

[“Yun Chuxian seems to really like this younger brother, she’s smiling so tenderly.”]

[“Wake up, people. That’s her ‘professional’ smile. Looks tender, but it’s actually distant.”]

Seeing the comment about Chuxian “liking” him felt like a lemon had burst in Wangyue’s heart. Sour and sharp. Is she just like this with everyone? Is her kindness to me just a habit?

When people fall in love, they always want to believe they are special to their beloved. Is she? Wangyue’s heart felt heavy. She felt she had changed—she wasn’t the cool, detached person she used to be. She believed in love, but never thought it would happen to her. The moment she fell for Chuxian, she started hoping she could be the exception.

But everyone thinks they are the exception until they aren’t.

Distance was only going to make her overthink more. And distance would be the norm. Chuxian was a superstar, constantly flying around the world. Their lives would be spent apart more than together. Can I actually handle this life? Wangyue wondered.

*****

Meanwhile, Chuxian was in her car, heading toward the next filming location—an ancient city.

She was staring at Wangyue’s message, hesitating. Should she reply?

Bai Yu looked back from the front seat. “Boss, is it really okay not to say goodbye to Screenwriter Tang?”

Chuxian had been “off” since last night. She’d performed perfectly at the event—she was an actress, after all—but the moment it was over, she’d retreated back into this pensive mood. In the ten years Bai Yu had worked for her, Chuxian only acted this way when something big was happening.

Chuxian looked up at Bai Yu. “Why? You think she’ll cut me off?”

“I don’t think so. The way she looks at you… she’s completely infatuated.”

Bai Yu could tell. She’d seen plenty of acting, but the love in Wangyue’s eyes—especially when she thought no one was looking—was real. It was a repressed, disciplined kind of love.

Chuxian locked her phone. “I want her to adapt to my pace of life. I’m an artist. I won’t be retiring for at least a few years. Dating me will be exhausting.”

Originally, she just wanted to be with Wangyue. But this brief separation made her realize the reality of her job. She wanted Wangyue to understand what it meant to have a partner who could vanish for months, who might only have a few minutes a day to talk, who might be too tired for a phone call. Most importantly, she had to face the rumors. This was why so many industry relationships failed.

Yun Chuxian wanted a lifetime. Once they were together, she would never let go. She would never allow Tang Wangyue to escape her side—she didn’t even want to think about what she’d do if she tried.

She wanted a Tang Wangyue who chose to stay by her side, a “little liar” who would never have the chance to lie to her again.

This separation was Tang Wangyue’s last chance to back out. Once this month was over, Chuxian would use every means necessary to keep her.

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