Ming Li suffered from a rare bout of insomnia, tossing and turning as she replayed the words she had spat at Gu Qingshuang earlier that night.
Gu Qingshuang’s expression at the time had been hideous to behold.
Shock, bewilderment, disbelief…
It was as if Ming Li had committed some unforgivable sin.
But Ming Li had only told the truth.
The thin veil of decency between them had been impulsively torn away by Ming Li, forcing them to look at each other’s ugliest sides from point-blank range.
To be precise, Gu Qingshuang had seen a side of Ming Li she never knew existed.
Saying what was in her heart hadn’t brought the relief Ming Li had expected.
She thought with a self-deprecating smirk that playing the villain wasn’t a role just anyone could pull off.
If Gu Qingshuang were truly an irredeemable monster, Ming Li could have said those things without a shred of guilt.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t.
Ming Li remained awake until past four in the morning. When she finally rose, her head throbbed with a dull ache. She only felt a bit better after mixing herself a glass of warm honey water.
She hadn’t liked honey in the past; it was a habit she had picked up from Gu Qingshuang.
In these past three years, she really had changed a lot.
But in the end, it was all in the past.
…
The filming for Lonely Journey was already halfway through when Ming Li finally coordinated her schedule to join the production.
Before arriving, she had already received her character biography and script. Her lines weren’t numerous, but her scene partners were all seasoned veterans. In particular, the woman playing her mother was a famous “specialist” in mother roles within the industry.
In front of such a distinguished senior, Ming Li naturally didn’t want to embarrass herself. She had even gone as far as to hire a temporary acting coach through her company’s resources.
Fully prepared, Ming Li drove to the neighboring city.
The filming location was in the suburbs of Fengcheng, not far from Jing’an City—about a three-hour drive.
By the time Ming Li arrived, it was already evening. The set was a hive of activity; crew members were setting up lights and backdrops while actors rehearsed their lines off to the side. Liu Siwang sat before the monitors, repeatedly reviewing the footage they had just captured.
As soon as Ming Li arrived, a staff member greeted her to arrange her schedule. First, she was to drop her things off at the hotel, then return for costume fittings and makeup to see the final look.
Official filming for her wouldn’t begin until tomorrow.
Strictly speaking, Ming Li was a complete novice with only a single day of filming experience. She knew nothing of the workflow on a professional set.
However, every production had its own rhythm. Ming Li only needed to follow instructions, which made things simple enough.
Just as Ming Li was about to follow the staff member, she heard someone shout, “Go call Ms. Chun to standby! We need to reshoot the close-up for that last take.”
Walking toward the edge of the set, Ming Li saw Chun Liuyi stepping down from her trailer, draped in a shawl. As the wind caught her hair, she instantly radiated the melancholic atmosphere of an arthouse film.
“Who is the female lead for this movie?” Ming Li asked the staff member in a low voice.
“That’s her, Ms. Chun Liuyi.”
“…”
Ming Li hadn’t known who the lead was before coming. She only knew the general story and had come purely out of her trust in Liu Siwang.
She never expected the lead to be Chun Liuyi. This was truly a surprise.
Before leaving, Ming Li looked back curiously. She saw Chun Liuyi and Liu Siwang leaning in close, talking quietly, likely discussing how to approach the next take.
The dynamic between them appeared to be purely professional. One couldn’t tell at all that they had once been lovers.
Or was it that as time passed, even those who loved each other most could work together in peace?
Ming Li wondered why she and Gu Qingshuang had ended up in such a disastrous state.
What a “human comedy” this was.
By the time Ming Li returned to the set, Chun Liuyi’s trailer had already left; her scenes for the day were finished. Ming Li’s role was assigned to Unit B, which wasn’t managed by Liu Siwang but by an associate director named An.
However, once Liu Siwang finished her own tasks, she came over to oversee Ming Li’s styling. After several adjustments, the look was finally confirmed, and the promotional photos were shot.
At one in the morning, Ming Li let out two consecutive yawns, feeling like she was hitting a wall. Yet Liu Siwang remained energetic, heading off to check on other things as soon as the photos were done.
Ming Li couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that no job in this world was easy.
It wasn’t until two in the morning that Liu Siwang finished for the day. As she walked toward her car and saw Ming Li waiting nearby, she looked surprised. “Why haven’t you left yet?”
“I thought since it’s my first day, I should say goodnight,” Ming Li said.
Liu Siwang smiled. “Didn’t we already speak earlier? Before your photoshoot?”
“That didn’t feel formal enough,” Ming Li replied. “You recommended me for this opportunity; I wanted to thank you properly.”
Liu Siwang shook her head. “I recommended you because you were a fit for the role. It had nothing to do with anything else.”
Ming Li expected Liu Siwang to at least ask about what happened with Gu Qingshuang, but she didn’t mention it once. She only briefed Ming Li on the essentials of living and working on set. After finishing, she added, “Someone will be assigned to guide you; just follow their lead. Associate Director An is very strict. If she says anything harsh during filming tomorrow, don’t take it to heart.”
“I understand,” Ming Li said. “I barely have any lines anyway. I don’t mind her being strict.”
“I wish you a smooth shoot.” Liu Siwang parted ways with her at the hotel lobby.
Back in her room, Ming Li found her sleepiness had vanished. She pulled out the few pages of her script, reading them over and over until she was certain she had every line memorized.
At three in the morning, her phone rang. It was an unknown number.
After a moment of hesitation, Ming Li answered. “Hello?”
There was no voice on the other end, only heavy, ragged breathing.
Ming Li glanced at the screen again, thinking it might be a scam call. She decided to stay silent and wait to hang up.
