Why Does The "Fishing Queen" Always Flirt With Me? - Chapter 8

Tang Wangyue had barely stepped off the trailer when Mo Lai pulled her aside.

“What’s going on between you and Yun Chuxian?”

Her friend had only just joined the crew, yet she’d already been inside Yun Chuxian’s private trailer. It wasn’t just Mo Lai who was surprised; even the Chief Director hadn’t been invited in yet. Usually, production matters were discussed in the tents with a group present. One didn’t simply walk onto a superstar’s trailer.

Mo Lai scrutinized Wangyue’s face. “Is there something I don’t know about?”

“Like what? Miss Yun needed a writer, and Mr. Liu and Ms. Lu didn’t want to go.” Wangyue shrugged. She was simply the third option; it didn’t prove a thing.

Mo Lai’s gaze turned meaningful. “The honeysuckle and pomelo tea… you were the only one who got it. There were only two cups. Yun Chuxian kept one for herself, and the other went to you.”

Sharing something she liked and according to Le Qing, Bai Yu had made a pointed effort to hand it directly to Wangyue.

But before her friend could respond, Mo Lai lowered her voice in warning. “Yun Chuxian is the kind of woman people fall for at first sight. Regardless of gender, anyone who spends time with her finds it hard not to fall in love. I’ve heard from directors who’ve worked with her before—she rarely loses her temper and speaks to everyone with such gentleness. The last time she actually got angry was when a production tried to butcher the script; she threatened to walk off set and had her legal team on standby until the studio backed down.”

“Broadly speaking, she’s a professional who respects the industry and treats everyone—from directors to extras—with the same consistent grace. Don’t let that kindness fool you into thinking you’re special. She’s gentle to everyone, not just you.”

Mo Lai wanted to make it clear: some people were simply out of their league. An actress might be polite because she was a public figure, but that was just her style, it wasn’t personal.

As for that tea? Mo Lai leaned toward it being a casual gesture. After all, how could Yun Chuxian know Wangyue? The drinks had been ordered before Wangyue even set foot on the lot. It was impossible that they knew each other beforehand.

They had grown up together. Mo Lai knew everyone Wangyue knew. During university, their roommates often had dinner together. Since they weren’t past acquaintances, this had to be a fluke. She couldn’t let Wangyue fall for her.

Wangyue nodded. “I get it. You’re such a nag.”

Mo Lai huffed. “The entertainment industry is full of temptation. You don’t have a mentor looking out for you anymore, so of course I have to keep a close eye on you.”

Many people got swept up in the glamour of the industry and didn’t find their way out until they were bruised and broken. Mo Lai trusted Wangyue’s self-control, but she trusted Yun Chuxian’s charm even more. Even after working in this circle for so long, she had been momentarily stunned into silence by the actress’s beauty the first time they met.

Yun Chuxian’s reputation was spotless, and in person, she was incredibly cooperative with the production schedule as long as it was reasonable. She was the most level-headed star of her caliber Mo Lai had ever worked with. Actually, scratch that—even minor celebrities often acted like they were gods among men, ordering staff around with an air of superiority. Yun Chuxian was wonderful; she just didn’t want her friend getting hurt.

“Is the director done with her business?” Wangyue quickly changed the subject. She could lie to anyone else, but Mo Lai was different. If she kept talking, Wangyue was bound to slip up. And once Mo Lai smelled a secret, she wouldn’t stop digging.

She didn’t know where this girl got her sense of responsibility from, but because Mo Lai was slightly older and had entered the workforce first, she felt she had to play the protector.

“Yeah, for now. They’re about to burn incense and pray for the production. The leads stand in front, so an AD like me gets a moment of peace.”

Mo Lai looked toward the group of actors. Today was their day. In a “Strong Female Lead” drama, the cast was naturally dominated by women. It was a sea of graceful figures, with media photographers snapping away on the sidelines. The launch of The Eldest Princess was already generating a wave of viral interest.

Mo Lai pressed a peppermint candy into Wangyue’s hand. “Don’t leave yet. The director wants to see you in a bit.”

Wangyue frowned. “Did you tell her?”

“Did I have to? They needed a copy of your ID for the copyright transfer, remember?”

Wangyue looked toward Yun Chuxian in the crowd. Clad in red silk that flowed like liquid flame, her hair bound up under a crown, her small, exquisite face radiated a sharp, heroic energy. She looked every bit the female general from the borderlands.

In the novel, the Eldest Princess was decisive and ruthless on the battlefield. Looking at Yun Chuxian now, it was as if the protagonist had stepped right out of the pages of Wangyue’s book. As the original author, she couldn’t be more satisfied.

“Stop staring. Your eyes are practically glued to her,” Mo Lai teased.

Chuxian meant the first moon; Wangyue meant to gaze at the moon.

Tsk, Mo Lai thought. I wonder if this is a match made in heaven or just a disaster waiting to happen.

Wangyue gave her a deadpan look. “Go back to work.”

Honestly, she was like a buzzing fly in her ear, terrified that she’d fall for Yun Chuxian. So what if she did? A life without a crush was an incomplete life. Besides, once the show wrapped, Yun Chuxian would be so busy they’d probably never see each other again anyway.

“Tsk, now I’m ‘annoying’?”

Mo Lai grabbed Wangyue’s wrist and pulled her toward the front. In this crew, aside from the director and the leads, there were only a few respected veterans Mo Lai had to defer to. To everyone else, she was “Director Mo,” someone to be greeted with the utmost respect.

If Wangyue liked Yun Chuxian, Mo Lai would treat it as a fan’s admiration for something beautiful. She figured she’d help her get an autograph and a photo while the chance was there.

“What are you doing?” Wangyue asked, confused.

“You’re staring anyway, aren’t you? I’m taking you to get a commemorative photo. I’ll even print it out for you later.”

Seeing the incense ceremony winding down, Mo Lai pulled Wangyue forward immediately. “Miss Yun, would you mind a photo?”

Yun Chuxian’s gaze landed on their joined hands—specifically, on the way Mo Lai was holding Wangyue’s wrist. A faint smile touched her lips. She was smiling, but it sent an inexplicable chill down the spine.

Before anyone could react, the actress reached out and slid her arm around Wangyue’s shoulder, smoothly drawing her to the other side and breaking Mo Lai’s grip in the process.

“Of course,” Yun Chuxian said. “Let’s take the photo.”

Mo Lai looked at her empty hand, feeling like she had missed something, but decided to be content that the goal was achieved.

After the photographer snapped a few shots, Yun Chuxian spoke again, her voice slightly cool. “I should take individual photos with Screenwriter Tang and Director Mo as well.”

“That works.” Mo Lai figured it was better not to have a third person in the shot anyway.

However, as they posed, Yun Chuxian’s arm slid down to encircle Wangyue’s waist. The wide sleeves of her Hanfu draped over them, almost as if she were wrapping Wangyue inside her robes.

Even though Wangyue was half a head taller, she suddenly looked strangely petite and protected in the actress’s embrace.

Wangyue’s heart hammered against her ribs. Scenes from the trailer flashed through her mind. Just like in the car, she was completely enveloped by Yun Chuxian’s presence, her senses filled with that intoxicating scent of cold roses.

They were… a little too intimate.

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