Chapter 16: Standing Up for Her

“Jinzhi.” Gao Yi called Cheng Jinzhi’s name in a sweet, ingratiating voice, coming to her side. “You’ve worked hard today.”

The crew of 《Girls’ Fortress》 more or less knew the situation between Cheng Jinzhi and Rong Si. Seeing Gao Yi’s posture, it was like she was the “main wife.”

“Xiao Tian, bring the tea over.” As she spoke, Gao Yi glanced at her assistant behind her. The assistant was carrying several bags of drinks, huffing as he trotted over. Gao Yi’s tone carried an air of familiarity. “Everyone’s worked hard. Have some drinks and rest.”

“This is Director Yi, right?” Gao Yi took two bottles from the bag and handed them over. “Thank you for taking care of…”

Seeing Gao Yi’s presumptuous familiarity, Cheng Jinzhi grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”

When Gao Yi first appeared, Cheng Jinzhi had planned to ignore her and give her the cold shoulder, thinking Gao Yi wouldn’t embarrass herself. She hadn’t expected Gao Yi to be so good at making a stage for herself.

“Boss Lady.” The manager holding Gao Yi’s skirt called out, face crumpled. If the head manager found out Gao Yi was meeting Cheng Jinzhi in private at such a “public venue,” he’d be dead meat.

“If anyone wants anything else to eat, just tell my manager.” Gao Yi smiled, glancing at her own manager. “You wait here. Whatever they want, you go buy it.”

When Cheng Jinzhi pulled her, Gao Yi naturally leaned close and walked with her. Passing by Rong Si, she didn’t even look at her. Her “main wife” air was fully on display. Rong Si’s expression didn’t change.

“Miss Rong, right? Would you like…” Gao Yi’s manager held out a bottle of black tea, fawningly trying to hand it to Rong Si. He knew of Rong Si—her micro-data had been climbing these past two days, and he’d heard she hadn’t signed with any agency.

“Thanks. I don’t drink those.” Rong Si picked up her own mineral water, took a small sip, watching Cheng Jinzhi and Gao Yi in the distance.

“You haven’t answered my calls these past two days.” Gao Yi bit her lower lip, looking wronged. Her acting was spot-on, her murmur tinged with a nasal quality, making her seem especially pitiable.

“My meaning is already very clear.” Cheng Jinzhi said. “Gao Yi, you’re not the type to make a scene.”

Gao Yi had always been effortlessly in control around her. Cheng Jinzhi felt that in her past life, she’d been like a puppet on Gao Yi’s strings. All her actions had been dictated by Gao Yi’s moods.

“You’re mad at me.” Gao Yi took Cheng Jinzhi’s hand. “I’ve been here for days. I want to accompany you while you film.”

In the entertainment circle, everyone was a bit gossipy. The crew of 《Girls’ Fortress》 couldn’t help glancing at Gao Yi and Cheng Jinzhi, then at Rong Si to see her reaction. Rong Si had been recommended by Cheng Jinzhi—without Cheng Jinzhi, who would know Rong Si?

Rong Si held a rather thick notebook and a pen, seemingly insulated from all the “colored” eyes around her.

Yi Yi never cared about this kind of thing. He took a cigarette, scanned the onlookers, and said, “Everyone rested enough, have you?”

At Yi Yi’s words, the crowd went quiet. Without lighting the cigarette, he sat down next to Rong Si. “I’ve seen you holding this notebook for the past two days. What is it?”

“Music my brother composed.” Speaking of her brother, Rong Si’s eyes seemed to soften. “He’s at the Moscow Conservatory now.”

“How old is your brother?” He could see Rong Si wasn’t old; he hadn’t expected her to have a younger brother.

“Four years younger than me.”

“That’s pretty young. And quite impressive—studying abroad at that age.” Yi Yi said. He lifted his lazy eyelids, seemingly looking for Cheng Jinzhi and Gao Yi. He didn’t see them; they’d probably left. “This circle—easy to say it’s easy, hard to say it’s hard. As for the gossip, don’t take it too much to heart.”

“I’ll emphasize that to them later.” Yi Yi said. Yi Yi valued talent. It was rare for him to take a liking to an actor, and he naturally hoped she’d ride the wind and waves, soaring upward.

“It’s fine.”

“Mm?”

“I hear it, and I have my own sense of things. When people bring up what’s in the dark, I actually feel more at ease.” Rong Si said.

False affection wasn’t scary. What was scary was believing in it. When the company went bankrupt, the good aunts and uncles from before all put on new faces as debt collectors. Her parents had told her who they’d befriended in humble times, who were friends in need. The “closer” the person, the harder they bit. Rong Si always remembered the building her parents had jumped from. She watched Uncle Zhou say her parents had jumped on their own, eager to shed suspicion. “That couple still owes me money. With this, how am I supposed to collect my debts later? Forget it, it’s just bad luck. Consider those years of business a total loss.”

“I’ll pay.”

“Rong Si, what are you saying?” The relatives pulled at Rong Si. “Your Uncle Zhou says your family doesn’t need to pay.”

“I’ll pay you. Give me time.” After burning the paper money in her hand, Rong Si, a black silk armband on her sleeve, stood up. “Now, can you bow to my parents?”

Young as she was, her spine remained straight. Her face was calm, unreadable. Zhou Fenshou froze for a moment, looking at the young girl before him. Feeling that he’d been rude, he coughed. After all, this was a funeral hall. Zhou Fenshou bowed to the urns of Rong Si’s parents.

“The family returns thanks.”

Rong Si steadied her younger brother’s shoulder. Before she’d even finished her bow, Zhou Fenshou hurried away, tossing back a line as he left. “Don’t blame your uncle for making things hard on you. This was your own promise.”

Rong Si straightened up and looked at the other debt collectors. “Since you’ve come, say goodbye to my parents.”

In the Rong family funeral hall, even collateral relatives were weeping behind their hands. Rong Zhan had cried until he could barely breathe. Only Rong Si remained calm, her slim figure moving among the creditors and her parents’ arrangements. Facing such a mountain of debt, Rong Si’s management had at least allowed her parents to leave with dignity.

“You’ve got a good mindset. I was just afraid you were bottling it up. You’re only in your teens, and you don’t owe anyone anything.” Yi Yi continued.

“Mm.”

Yi Yi took one look at Rong Si and felt she had good temperament—not like someone sharpening their head to squeeze into the circle of fame. How could such a person be willing to submit to someone else?

Before long, Cheng Jinzhi returned, having changed her clothes. Everyone exchanged knowing, stifled laughs. Things must have gotten intense.

Compared to everyone’s “knowing smiles,” Cheng Jinzhi was deeply depressed. She hadn’t wanted the crew to watch her like a monkey, and she certainly hadn’t wanted Rong Si to see either, lest Rong Si say something strange like “Because it’s not her?” again. She’d found a relatively quiet corner, but Gao Yi had been all too excited, starting to “get handsy” the moment they were alone. Last time she’d been caught off guard; this time she wouldn’t let Gao Yi take advantage. They tussled, Cheng Jinzhi tore Gao Yi’s skirt, Gao Yi tore her sleeve. She’d finally gotten the upper hand and was about to beat Gao Yi soundly when Gao Yi’s assistant arrived and carried Gao Yi away.

Fine. She’d find a time when no one was around and beat Gao Yi while she was in a sack. “Meeting and smiling to dissolve grudges” wasn’t Cheng Jinzhi’s style—two beatings was what it took.

Next was Rong Si’s scene; Cheng Jinzhi’s was the next day. It was rare to have a solo shot of Rong Si. This film was mainly about Weicheng, and Miss Jia was largely a “background board.” This scene was mainly about separation. Miss Jia’s warlord father had died, and another warlord had taken the city. The adjutant escorted Miss Jia out of the city, but she stopped at the city gate and started walking back. She ignored the adjutant behind her, walking faster and faster. There was an aerial shot; the crane arm went up.

Cheng Jinzhi watched the monitor. On screen, Rong Si wore a red cloak. She looked back. The adjutant shouted behind her. She put up her cloak’s hood, which covered her thoroughly. The next shot was an aerial view: everyone was panicking and running, and Rong Si’s Miss Jia pushed through the crowd, searching against the flow. The red cloak and the gray-toned crowd headed in opposite directions—a striking contrast. This was nearly the ending. Of course, Yi Yi had prepared several endings; this was just one of them.

Watching Rong Si’s performance, Cheng Jinzhi asked with feeling, “Is she going back to find Weicheng?”

Yi Yi laughed, shrugged nonchalantly. “Who knows.”

“Didn’t you write the script?”

“They’re people. People can’t be obedient.” Yi Yi said, calling a cut. This scene passed in one take.

Mystical mumbo-jumbo. Cheng Jinzhi rolled her eyes at Yi Yi internally. She knew she shouldn’t ask questions to “literary workers.” Directors who made art films, in Cheng Jinzhi’s classification, all fell under “literary workers.” Cheng Jinzhi was the practical type; she liked straightforward words. People who usually said nothing and left half unsaid when they did speak—Cheng Jinzhi didn’t like them. Expecting a knowing smile? What if you got the meaning wrong?

Rong Si had asked for several days of leave, so she slept at the hotel arranged by the crew. Cheng Jinzhi had scenes the next day and didn’t go home either. Seeing the hotel was close, she took a room number and went over. Running into Rong Si in the hallway, they took the elevator together. Cheng Jinzhi looked at her room number. No way, this coincidental?

Just that coincidental. Cheng Jinzhi’s room was next to Rong Si’s. Even more coincidentally, Rong Si’s room was leaking—water had seeped all the way to the corridor.

Rong Si looked at Cheng Jinzhi. Cheng Jinzhi raised her hands on her own. “Wasn’t me.”

“I only got here today.” After saying it, Cheng Jinzhi felt like an idiot. Why was she explaining? Rong Si didn’t know if her neighbors were here or not.

Rong Si called the front desk. It took a while for anyone to answer. Learning about the leak, the receptionist said lazily, “Then turn off the water valve first. I’ll have a maintenance man come tomorrow.”

That attitude wouldn’t fly. Just now, when Cheng Jinzhi had arrived, the front desk had eagerly asked for her autograph. Of course, Cheng Jinzhi knew the receptionist didn’t actually like her—she was just pandering to the usual vanity of “big stars.” In her past life, Cheng Jinzhi had walked around with her nose in the air. When strangers asked for autographs, she never stopped to think—they weren’t fans, so what would ordinary people want with a signature?

Cheng Jinzhi snatched Rong Si’s phone. “Now. Immediately, right now. Arrange a new room and apologize in person. I reserve the right to file a complaint about your attitude.”