Chapter 30: Gentleness Part 1

Fifteen minutes later, the stand-in still hadn’t returned.

The production crew couldn’t waste even half a minute of time, and soon scattered complaints arose—subtle sighs, a foot stomped here and there, casual remarks exchanged with those nearby: “How come she still hasn’t come back?”

As if voicing what everyone was thinking, Jiang Qingmeng glanced at the watch on her wrist and said to the director, “No more waiting, Director Feng. Let’s shoot with body doubles.” She also instructed Little Ai, “Send someone to check on her. If the pain’s too much, get her to the hospital immediately. I’ll cover the medical bills.” She had always treated her staff well, which had earned her a loyal group ready to go to the ends of the earth for her.

At Jiang Qingmeng’s words, Jiang Zhizhou froze for a few seconds. She pocketed her phone, lay back down on the bed, closed her eyes, and reined in the churning emotions inside her, trying to approach it with a calm heart.

“Alright, all departments, get ready.” Director Feng grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Three, two, one—action!”

Jiang Qingmeng took another sip of the medicinal soup, leaned over, pinched Jiang Zhizhou’s chin, and drew close, their noses brushing. She tilted her head slightly to block the camera’s line of sight.

They were so close. Eyes shut, Jiang Zhizhou saw nothing, but her other senses sharpened—the cool, silken touch on her chin, their breaths mingling in warm tangles, the frantic thump against her ribs—all of it magnified, growing sharper with every passing moment.

One second. Two. Three… It dragged on like a century before Director Feng finally called out—

“Cut! That’s a wrap. Next setup.”

The grip on her chin eased away, the warm breath retreated, and Jiang Zhizhou opened her eyes.

The next scene had Yin Yue stirring groggily awake and slapping Yuan Zhi across the face.

These days, plenty of stars used stand-ins—for fights, kisses, nudity, even kneeling scenes.

Jiang Zhizhou hesitated a moment before asking, “You using a stand-in for this one?”

Jiang Qingmeng shot her a look. “I still know I’m an actress.”

The implication was clear: no.

Back when Jiang Zhizhou filmed movies, she’d always gone for authenticity with real slaps. Now, though, she couldn’t bring herself to hit hard. Her hand swung high but landed feather-light on Jiang Qingmeng’s cheek.

In the script, Yin Yue was injured and weak, so the gentle blow passed muster.

The sixth scene wrapped, the morning was done, and lunchtime had arrived.

The afternoon held only dialogue scenes. Jiang Zhizhou, ever the neat freak, washed her face first and wiped away her sweat. By the time she finished freshening up, the boxed lunch someone had fetched for her had gone cold.

She wasn’t picky and figured she’d make do, but Mei Ying appeared with an elegant lunchbox in hand and offered it up. “Xinghe, our team’s got a microwave. I heated up a full meal for you—take this one.”

“Thanks.” Jiang Zhizhou smiled and nodded, accepting the kindness without protest.

“Eat together?”

“Sure.”

Inside the RV, Jiang Qingmeng sat at the dining table, methodically picking at her salad.

Little Ai poked her head in. “Boss, Miss Shen’s already eating with Little Mei.”

Jiang Qingmeng paused for two seconds, then nodded as if it were nothing and took a sip of warm water. She pointed to the nutritional meal kit sitting across the table from her. “Toss this. Go eat and get some rest.”

With that, she lowered her gaze, concealing the flicker of loneliness in her eyes, and returned to her salad.

She knew she had action scenes today, so she’d asked the nutritionist to prepare that special kit first thing that morning.

She seldom shared lunch with anyone. From childhood on, meals had almost always been solitary affairs at the table.

Her sharpest memory was from age twelve, when Jiang Zhizhou dragged over a little table to sit across from her as they shared a late-night snack. She’d thrown a fit, demanding instant noodles just like hers, and she’d caved, soaking a pack for her.

Truth be told, it wasn’t that she loved instant noodles so much—she’d just wanted to eat the same thing.

Like all these years: watching the films she’d seen, listening to her songs, walking her paths. Fooling herself into believing their lives still overlapped.

In reality, they were just lines that crossed once, briefly converging at that point before drifting ever farther apart.

Pathetic.

“Right— what happened between you and Qingmeng this morning?” Midway through the meal, Jiang Zhizhou brought it up out of the blue, her tone casual, like idle chatter.

Mei Ying stirred her soup, mumbling, “It was nothing… I accidentally scratched Teacher Jiang…”

Jiang Zhizhou gave a faint smile. “You’ve done my eyebrows before. I know how heavy your hand is.” That touch had been soft as lamb’s wool, so tentative and careful—the odds of an actual scratch were slim.

Mei Ying’s eyes reddened in an instant, tears brimming as a wave of grievance washed over her. “I… I really didn’t mean to. Teacher Jiang just turned her head all of a sudden to talk to Sister Ai… I didn’t have time to pull back…”

Jiang Zhizhou fell silent for a beat, then said gravely, “Let me apologize to you on her behalf. I’m sorry—you’ve been wronged.”

Mei Ying wiped away her tears and said softly, “It’s okay… no need to apologize. Teacher Jiang didn’t mean to do it, and she even spoke up for me, arranging for a famous senior in the industry to guide me. Teacher Jiang is a really good person.”

This little girl was just… so innocently adorable. Jiang Zhizhou couldn’t bear to tell her the truth and went along with her words. “Then you should learn well from that senior.”

“Mm, I will,” Mei Ying said softly. Then she asked, “Are you and Teacher Jiang close?”

Jiang Zhizhou didn’t know how to answer for a moment. She rubbed her temple and said, “You guess?”

Mei Ying smiled. “Definitely close.”

These days, Jiang Zhizhou had been coldly polite to most of the production crew, a trace of arrogance lingering in her expression. Yet now she was willing to bow her head and apologize on Jiang Qingmeng’s behalf, which clearly showed that her relationship with her was anything but ordinary.

Jiang Zhizhou smiled too. “Then it must be good.”

When Jiang Qingmeng stepped into the makeup room, she saw the two of them chatting amiably, all smiles.

It was quite an eyesore.

Mei Ying stood up to greet her warmly.

Seeing her enter, Jiang Zhizhou’s eyes brightened. “Qingmeng, why aren’t you resting in the RV?”

Jiang Qingmeng had the driver bring a luxury RV to the film set that day. She ate and rested alone in it.

“I left something in the makeup room and came to get it,” Jiang Qingmeng said. Then she headed straight for the inner room.

Jiang Zhizhou wondered to herself, what could be so important that she had to come fetch it personally?

By the time Jiang Qingmeng emerged again, Jiang Zhizhou had nearly finished her lunch. She rinsed her mouth briefly and prepared to nap at the table.

Jiang Qingmeng glanced at her, walked to the door, paused for two hesitant seconds, then turned back. She patted Jiang Zhizhou’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind, come rest in my RV.”

Action scenes were extremely draining. Having a place to lie down was ideal, so Jiang Zhizhou didn’t refuse.

The RV’s interior spanned about 26 square meters and was fully equipped, with a kitchen, bedroom, living room, refrigerator, bathroom, and all the rest. The decor was elegant, complete with 360-degree video surveillance and fingerprint-locked entry.

Jiang Zhizhou had owned a similar RV in her previous life. It felt comfortingly familiar.

Once inside, Jiang Zhizhou settled onto the curved sofa. Jiang Qingmeng poured her a glass of warm water, checked her watch, and said, “You’ve got another thirty minutes to rest.”

Spending this rare time alone sleeping felt a little wasteful, but Jiang Zhizhou was truly exhausted.

She took a sip of the water from the glass. When she looked up, her gaze brushed over the shallow scratch at Jiang Qingmeng’s temple, and her heart ached.

It was always like this. She knew the tears were fake, knew the wound was deliberate—yet she still felt heartbroken. She couldn’t help falling into the web Jiang Qingmeng had spun, bound by her gentleness, unable to break free.

Fine, then she wouldn’t try to escape. She’d been helpless against her since childhood anyway.

Jiang Zhizhou said nothing, only asked, “Aren’t you going to rest?”

Jiang Qingmeng shook her head. “I’m not tired.”

Sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She hadn’t had a good night’s rest in ages and always relied on medication to drift off.

Jiang Zhizhou nodded. Her fingertips tapped the sofa twice. Then she asked, “Do you want to rest with me, then?”

Jiang Qingmeng gave her a puzzled look.

Jiang Zhizhou’s ears grew warm. “I… I mean, if I’m sleeping here, you can’t just sit there staring. That’d be weird.”

Jiang Qingmeng smiled. She pressed the remote, and the RV’s curtains drew shut automatically.

She rose and headed into the bedroom. “Then I’ll go in. Rest well.”

The bedroom doubled as the RV’s surveillance hub. High-definition cameras captured every corner in crystal clarity.

On the monitor, Jiang Zhizhou pulled out her phone and tapped a few times. Then she lay back on the sofa, still fully dressed, and slept peacefully.

Jiang Qingmeng watched for dozens of seconds before switching off that feed. She slipped into a pair of silent cotton slippers, fetched a blanket from the closet, and tiptoed over to the living room sofa. She bent down and draped it gently over Jiang Zhizhou.

Crouching beside her, she watched for a few minutes. Recalling her comment about it being “weird,” she couldn’t help a faint smile. She stood, moved to the far end of the sofa, leaned back against it, tilted her head slightly, and closed her eyes to rest.

Even if sleep wouldn’t come, she couldn’t let herself collapse. She still had too much to do.

She wouldn’t allow herself to fall until it was all finished.

The room was dim. With another person there, it didn’t feel strange at all. If anything, it was more serene, comfortable, and relaxing than usual.

Eyes closed, Jiang Qingmeng let herself drift in the darkness. The relentless thoughts that usually tormented her began to fade, bit by bit. Fatigue welled up, and a long-forgotten, hazy drowsiness arrived like a miracle.

Her senses dulled. Her mind grew foggy…

At last, in some unguarded moment, she fell asleep.

A long while later, in the dimness, Jiang Zhizhou slowly opened her eyes. She called softly, “Qingmeng?”

No response. She called again.

Once she confirmed the other woman was asleep, Jiang Zhizhou sat up and draped the blanket over her.

Jiang Zhizhou really was exhausted, drowsy, and she had fallen asleep—but she was always alert. The moment the blanket settled over her, her consciousness stirred awake.

She didn’t open her eyes, not wanting to shatter the quiet tranquility.

She had assumed Jiang Qingmeng would tuck her in and leave right away, but she didn’t.

After a moment of stillness, she heard the faint sounds of someone getting up, then felt the sofa dip slightly at the other end.

Now, Jiang Zhizhou sat beside her, her gaze tracing the exquisite features of that beautiful face—the one she had once forgotten in some dusty corner of her memory.

She stared for a long time, lost in thought, then slowly leaned in, tempted to brush her fingers against those plump, rosy lips.

Just as she was about to make contact, she hesitated and pulled back.

No matter how much she yearned to touch her, she had promised it wouldn’t happen again. Since Jiang Qingmeng didn’t like it, she wouldn’t do it anymore.

She had never been attracted to women.

But affection in this world always shared certain similarities, regardless of gender. It meant respecting each other, cherishing each other, holding them close to your heart, and treating them with tenderness.

Jiang Qingmeng was woken by the alarm on her phone.

When she opened her eyes, she felt the soft blanket draped over her body.