Chapter 4: I Can’t Film Your Scenes (4)

Yao Lan accompanied Ji Ruanqing around the mall until it closed. When they were done, she thought they could finally go home. Instead, Ji Ruanqing wanted to drag her to the night market for more shopping. It was ridiculous.

Yao Lan wasn’t fond of night markets. The one Ji Ruanqing took her to was tucked into a narrow alley, and just as she’d imagined, the ground was filthy and the smells all mingled together: sweat and cooking food. She even watched a man wipe his hand on his pants before reaching for a handful of noodles.

Yao Lan: “…”

Her expression stiffened. Unless she had no choice, she never went to places like this.

Ji Ruanqing glanced at her. “If you don’t like it, we can get KFC instead.”

“I’m not hungry. I don’t need anything to eat. If you want something from here, go ahead,” Yao Lan said with a warm smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

“All right, then.”

Ji Ruanqing bought a lot of food. Yao Lan followed alongside her, looking utterly out of place in the night market. That was exactly what she wanted.

She hoped Ji Ruanqing would realize for herself that the person beside her wasn’t who she used to be.

Yao Lan studied Ji Ruanqing’s profile. She ate quickly, and it was obvious she came here often. She knew exactly what she wanted and could find the right stall in no time.

“It’s such a shame you won’t eat any,” Ji Ruanqing said.

“I’m not hungry.” Yao Lan glanced at her. “And if I eat this late and go straight to bed, I’ll gain weight.”

Ji Ruanqing looked her up and down. “You could stand to put on a little more.”

“Is that so?” Yao Lan checked the time. It was already past eleven. She usually went to bed before midnight, but Ji Ruanqing had broken that habit on her very first day here.

“Come on, I’m done.” Ji Ruanqing burped.

Yao Lan glanced at the takeout fried chicken beside her. Given that Ji Ruanqing had gotten up at one, she was probably going to stay up until three or four.

By the time they reached the subway station, the last train had just left. They had no choice but to take a cab. The fare back to their complex was a little over thirty yuan, and Ji Ruanqing’s heart gave a painful little twinge as she paid.

“That drumstick you bought was ten yuan. You didn’t look this upset about paying for it.”

“That’s different!” Ji Ruanqing said. “If only we’d gotten there a little earlier…”

Yao Lan transferred fifty yuan to Ji Ruanqing’s Alipay account.

“I feel bad taking this.” Ji Ruanqing sent forty yuan back to her.

Yao Lan didn’t send it back again. She leaned against the seat and closed her eyes to rest.

The taxi stopped at the entrance to their complex. A few drunk men climbed out of another car, laughing and shouting. Their voices carried sharply through the quiet night.

“Hey, young lady, why are you still out so late? Did you get lost? Where do you live? We can walk you home, hic.”

Under the streetlight, Yao Lan and Ji Ruanqing stood out. One of the men stumbled toward them, his greasy, repulsive smile spread across his face.

A friend of his, a little more sober, grabbed him by the arm. “Come on, let’s go. What are you doing?”

“What’s it to you? Don’t interrupt me while I’m talking to the girls.” The man wrenched himself free and started toward them again, with the others trailing behind.

Ji Ruanqing rolled her eyes. “What a nuisance.”

She tugged Yao Lan away, already opening her phone. The number 110 appeared on the screen.

“Where are you going? You think you’re too good for us? Got a boyfriend?” The man kept following them.

Yao Lan gripped her umbrella. As he came close, she whipped it around and drove the handle into his chest. He cried out, stumbled back two steps, and dropped straight to the ground.

“You hit me!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yao Lan struck him across the face with her umbrella. “Show some respect.”

The skin where the umbrella hit split open, and blood welled up. A little more force, and it might have gone down to the bone.

Ji Ruanqing had been about to call 110, but when she saw how Yao Lan moved, she turned off her phone. If anyone got taken away, it was hard to say who they’d arrest.

The man sat stunned on the ground, the pain in his face cutting through the alcohol fog in his head.

“You hit me?” he repeated.

At some point, every security camera along the road had shattered. Beneath the streetlight, their shadows swayed.

Yao Lan hated people who used alcohol as an excuse to do whatever they pleased. On a previous mission, she’d met a girl who had been assaulted by a drunk man. Yao Lan had been playing the role of a therapist, and before the girl’s first session with her, she’d slipped away from the others and jumped from the rooftop.

Yao Lan hadn’t been able to save her.

She knew perfectly well the man was only a string of data, but she still couldn’t stop the rush of negative emotions.

Later, she’d looked up the news. The man had said over and over that he’d only been drunk, and there had even been people in the comments defending the scumbag.

Yao Lan stared coldly at him, the tip of her umbrella pressed against his forehead. If she wanted, she could drive it straight through his skull. The other men finally rushed over and dragged him away from the ground. They seemed a lot more sober now, too.

“Host, this isn’t the right world for that. Ji Ruanqing’s right beside you,” Koukou said.

Yao Lan lowered her umbrella and glanced at Ji Ruanqing. “Let’s go.”

“Where do you think you’re going? Pay me! You hurt me, and now you’re just leaving?”

Yao Lan didn’t look back. She bought a Skill Card, and five seconds after she and Ji Ruanqing entered the complex, the men outside vanished without a trace.

Fifty thousand points, barely warm in her pocket, and they were almost gone again.

Yao Lan glanced at Ji Ruanqing. Honestly, she was beginning to wonder if Ji Ruanqing had a protagonist’s script. How could so many things happen in a single day?

Yao Lan activated her Halo and took a look. Sure enough, a golden Halo hovered over Ji Ruanqing’s head, bright enough to light up the entire complex. The Halo above Yao Lan’s own head was golden, too.

“Oh,” Koukou said, sounding surprised. “Maybe the world’s focus shifted to her when you arrived, and that affected her.”

Yao Lan herself had done Female Lead quests and came with a Female Lead Halo. It was possible she’d affected Ji Ruanqing, even though this world had no Plotline.

“You don’t look too happy,” Ji Ruanqing said. She’d been watching Yao Lan’s expression, of course, and hadn’t missed the revulsion and killing intent on her face when she looked at the men.

And somehow, Ji Ruanqing felt the memories of what had just happened starting to blur. She could no longer remember the men’s faces.

Her memory wasn’t usually this bad.

“I’m really not in a good mood. I’m exhausted. Let’s go.”

Once they got home, Yao Lan hurried back to her room and shut the door.

Ji Ruanqing heard a click. She’d locked it again.

Had Yao Lan always done that?

After taking a shower, Yao Lan got into bed. She didn’t forget to put her umbrella back in System Space and ask Koukou to clean it.

She always slept for exactly eight hours. She’d kept that habit for hundreds of years; she no longer needed a clock. No matter when she went to bed, she always woke up eight hours later.

But this time, she stayed in bed for a while after waking.

Life without a Plotline was too dull.

She’d sent Ji Ruanqing a link to a school’s hiring page. The day after tomorrow, they’d hear that they’d passed the initial screening. After going through the motions at the school, they’d be able to start work. Yao Lan hadn’t looked into the specific requirements for teachers in this world. There was no need.

When she left her room, it was ten thirty in the morning. Ji Ruanqing still hadn’t gotten up.

Yao Lan opened the fridge and looked inside. The refrigerator compartment held nothing but drinks, though the freezer had some frozen dumplings.

She thought about it, then shut the door and ordered takeout. As she sat beside the coffee table waiting for it to arrive, she noticed a script on the table.

A little note lay on top. It said, “Take a look.”

Yao Lan laughed and picked it up.

The script was called She and Her, a suspense film. The title page said Seventh Draft, so Ji Ruanqing must have revised it many times.

Yao Lan had finished reading the synopsis and outline when her food arrived. She went to the dining table and asked Koukou to read the script aloud to her.

A film script wasn’t very long. By the time she’d finished eating and cleared the table, she’d more or less finished reading it.

She’d said she would revise it, but it didn’t need much. A few details could use some polishing. And if she tried to make major changes, Ji Ruanqing might throw her out on the spot. Yao Lan didn’t know how proud Ji Ruanqing was of her work, but she knew she wouldn’t like someone else telling her how to do it.

Yao Lan took a sheet of paper, wrote down her suggestions, and left it beside the script.

It was two o’clock, and Ji Ruanqing still hadn’t come out. Yao Lan had no idea how late she’d stayed up the night before. She glanced at Ji Ruanqing’s bedroom door, returned to her own room, and began working on the original host’s unfinished work.

A WeChat friend request suddenly popped up.

[Nothing: Hi, I’m Lin Xi’s assistant.]

Yao Lan narrowed her eyes, turned her phone over once in her hand, and accepted the request.