Chapter 36: Casual Chat

Gu Liuguang frowned in deep thought, feeling that this question was extremely malicious.

But compared to something like “who do you like more, mom or dad,” it fell a bit short, so she couldn’t help but think more about it.

If the two of them had no connection whatsoever to Lin Shixia, then asking this kind of question would be just like people at a bar hyping up two people who caught each other’s eye—a joking, flirtatious kind of hype that was no different from flirting.

If they did have a connection, Gu Liuguang’s mind couldn’t quite turn that corner, because it meant they had to know she liked Lin Shixia.

Only her main account was into stanning, and on WeChat, she’d only mentioned liking Lin Shixia to a few people, plus today when she went to the company and told a bunch of people.

Yet when she asked the System if Gu Shuang and Lin Shixia were related, the System refused to tell her no matter what.

Everyone present could see the conflict on Gu Liuguang’s face—her brows tightly furrowed, her gaze flicking to Gu Shuang again and again.

In the dim light, Gu Shuang was shrouded in shadows, seeming distant and unapproachable, but her earlobes were slightly red, with the flush gradually spreading to her cheeks and neck.

Until someone set down drinks on the coffee table. “Ye Qingying” smiled and pushed one of the drinks toward Gu Liuguang. “Sister Gu Shuang specially ordered this for you.”

Having drunk alcohol made her a bit thirsty anyway, and Gu Liuguang still didn’t know how to answer the question. She quickly reached for the juice, using the moment to rack her brains for a response to this tricky problem.

The other woman had said that a good answer might bring a surprise.

“Is it that hard to answer?” The woman across from her smiled at Gu Liuguang, her tone casual, her gaze sweeping over Gu Shuang intentionally or not, her smile unchanged, as if she were speaking to Gu Shuang.

“My assistant says that sometimes, not answering is an answer in itself.” As she said this, the woman kept watching Gu Shuang’s expression, her words drawn out slowly like a dull knife slicing flesh, one syllable at a time.

“Looking at it this way, Lin Shixia and Liuguang Baby seem about the same age… It’s pretty normal to like girls your own age more.”

As she spoke, she leaned back against the sofa, stretching one arm out toward Gu Shuang’s side and draping it over the backrest. She turned her head to look at Gu Shuang, her expression teasing. “For people our age, eating tender grass isn’t quite appropriate either. Relationships should be about mutual liking, right?”

Gu Liuguang didn’t understand what the woman was getting at. She just quietly let out a breath of relief, holding her cup to her lips and pretending to sip thirstily, her gaze fixed on Gu Shuang.

Maybe it was the atmosphere, but Gu Shuang’s skin looked like creamy texture. Under the occasionally flickering lights, her exquisite features seemed dreamlike. Because of the alcohol, her cheeks had a faint pink tint, like paint smeared on a canvas—unreal.

When Gu Shuang’s peripheral glance turned toward her, it felt like being teased by her gaze. Gu Liuguang hurriedly lowered her eyes to the juice in her cup, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it.

Ah, Gu Shuang’s eyes were so beautiful.

“Is it good?”

A slightly husky female voice sounded beside Gu Liuguang—not too loud, not too soft, just right.

This was the first time Gu Shuang had taken the initiative to talk to her. Gu Liuguang blanked out for two seconds before reacting. She moved the cup down a bit and looked up at Gu Shuang.

The other woman ignored “Ye Qingying” completely, looking only at her, her gaze a bit lazy yet somewhat gentle. Her face showed no particular expression, but Gu Liuguang felt like she was overthinking it.

After a brief moment of thought, Gu Liuguang spoke. “It’s very good. Thanks for specially ordering it for me, Sister.”

No sooner had she finished than she saw Gu Shuang suddenly smile—like ice melting—though it vanished in an instant, ephemeral as a flash in the pan.

If Gu Liuguang hadn’t been certain she was sober, she might have thought she’d imagined it.

After smiling, Gu Shuang withdrew her gaze. She first turned to glance at “Ye Qingying,” seeming in a good mood, then casually pointed at the woman beside her and said very straightforwardly to Gu Liuguang, “That’s Ye Qingying.”

“If you want an autograph, now’s a good time.”

Gu Shuang’s tone was casual, like chatting with a friend—though that’s exactly what they were doing.

Gu Liuguang’s eyes widened in shock. Her first reaction was that it was impossible—how could the other woman be Ye Qingying?

In the original plot, Ye Qingying only truly met her much later, coming to deal with her because of Lin Shixia.

The System hadn’t said anything about them knowing each other early on!

Besides, why would Ye Qingying come to A City?

All sorts of thoughts flashed through Gu Liuguang’s mind, ending with an expression that screamed “No way, are you guys lying to me?” It took her a while to find her voice again, asking weakly, “For real?”

Would this affect her mission?

She still wanted to confirm once more. “Doesn’t Ye Qingying worry about being secretly photographed in a bar?”

After asking, Gu Liuguang realized why the other woman was wearing a hat in the bar…

If she was Ye Qingying, it made sense.

Ye Qingying was displeased that her identity had been revealed so directly. She leaned back into the sofa, a bit listless as she said, “I wanted to tease Liuguang Baby a bit more. You just blurted it out—takes all the fun out of it.”

She said that, but her gaze lingered on Gu Liuguang, like a hunter eyeing prey. Then she flashed a smile. “Liuguang Baby is even prettier in person than on stream. Those filters make your face look all distorted.”

Gu Liuguang: ?

What did that mean? Ye Qingying had watched her streams? Real or fake? Could her mission still proceed smoothly?

Zhang Xibai had already collapsed—would one of the protagonists, Ye Qingying, collapse too? If so, was it the System’s fault or hers?

“Baby, you’re so good-looking you could debut right away. Isn’t streaming tiring?” Ye Qingying looked genuinely concerned for her, her tone full of regret. “None of the artists under my studio are as pretty as Liuguang Baby.”

“Want to consider joining my studio? I’d definitely give Liuguang Baby the best resources.”

By the end, Gu Liuguang was going numb. She still remembered the plotline where she later switched platforms and became the top streamer.

She spoke dryly. “No need. I’m pretty happy with my current job.”

Ye Qingying found her reaction adorably weird and burst out laughing. “Pretty happy? Happy enough that ten minutes in, you’re panting from exhaustion?”

“If you come to my company, I definitely wouldn’t schedule that kind of ‘physical labor’ for you. Just take on some simple roles—wouldn’t that be better than streaming now?”

“Streaming is just a youthful gig anyway. You might face harassment from creepy bosses or get your heart broken by some scumbag.”

“If you sign with my company, you can avoid all that trouble. Just nail a few breakout roles and some endorsements, and you’re set for life.”

At first, Gu Liuguang thought Ye Qingying was just joking. Plenty of passably good-looking people existed, and Ye Qingying had no real connection to her.

The other woman might have watched her streams, but there was no reason she’d sign her out of nowhere, so Gu Liuguang didn’t take it seriously.

But as Ye Qingying went on, it sounded more and more real.

Still a bit dazed, Gu Liuguang heard the hitherto silent Gu Shuang finally speak up. “Her offer isn’t bad, but I recommend signing with Stellar Media. Their contracts are friendlier to newcomers.”

After a brief hesitation, Gu Shuang continued. “Stellar Media is a subsidiary I hold controlling interest in. I can have someone draft a contract more suited to you.”

Gu Liuguang went numb listening to this. She’d thought Gu Shuang would have some brilliant insight, but it turned out she was recommending she sign as an artist too. Hearing that, she couldn’t help glancing at Gu Shuang. The other woman’s face was slightly flushed. She lowered her eyes, then looked back at Gu Liuguang.

“If you don’t like that, I can offer you something else.” Gu Shuang’s cheeks reddened further, like clouds at dusk. Just looking made Gu Liuguang think her face must be burning hot.

Somewhat unnaturally, she said, “I’m short an assistant right now. The workload isn’t heavy, and we can negotiate the other benefits.”

Gu Liuguang: …

Ye Qingying chuckled twice, not even glancing at Gu Shuang as she said to Gu Liuguang, “Does what she’s saying sound like a scam?” She spoke earnestly. “Job hunting these days requires caution—tons of people out there with bad intentions.”

“At least this face of mine won’t deceive you. You can even come visit my company.”

Hearing that, Gu Liuguang instinctively glanced at Gu Shuang, half-expecting her to say the same.

Sure enough, she saw Gu Shuang’s lips move, clearly about to speak. She cut in immediately. “I think… my current job is fine.”

After a thought, she added, “I can’t act anyway. Better not harm the audience’s eyes.”

As she spoke, she completely missed the looks of regret on Ye Qingying and Gu Shuang’s faces. Gu Liuguang acting wouldn’t harm anyone’s eyes—it would be a treat for them.

As long as roles were chosen carefully, Gu Liuguang didn’t need masterful acting skills. Even a few seconds in a movie would stun every viewer.

Gu Liuguang finished her juice, deciding it was best not to get too entangled with Ye Qingying for now. Though she was curious why Ye Qingying was here and what exactly the connection was between Gu Shuang and Lin Shixia.

But to keep the plot from collapsing too badly, she suppressed her curiosity, forgot she hadn’t come to the bar alone, stood up, and said she was heading home first.

Ye Qingying was puzzled. Half-jokingly, she asked Gu Liuguang, “Not leaving a contact?”

She’d assumed revealing her identity would prompt Gu Liuguang to ask for her WeChat, but the girl hadn’t even mentioned it as she got up to leave. Ye Qingying could only guess she’d been too excited and forgotten.

Gu Liuguang glanced at her and refused decisively. “No need. I’ve already called a ride.”

The lie could be exposed in seconds, but Gu Liuguang couldn’t care less. Her head ached as she stood to leave. Before going, she instinctively glanced at Gu Shuang, who looked so much like Lin Shixia.

In that one glance, she saw Gu Shuang’s phone screen on the coffee table light up, showing an incoming call.

She normally couldn’t have seen it that clearly, but Gu Shuang had the caller ID font set huge—like for certain special groups. Gu Liuguang instantly spotted the glaring “Lin Shixia” in big letters.

Gu Liuguang plopped right back down. She smiled sweetly at Gu Shuang, her voice sugary. “Sister, let’s chat a bit more.”