Chapter 63

That night, while the entire crew drank themselves into oblivion, the internet had already erupted into a storm of arguments.

“Although yesterday’s press conference was touching, when I think back on it, I still don’t understand why Jiang Sisi went so far to help Leng Xiang?”

“Because of love.”

“Because of love +max”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s all love…”

“Why can’t it just be that Jiang Sisi and Leng Xiang are good friends who couldn’t stand seeing Leng Xiang get attacked, so she stepped in to clarify? Can’t you guys think purely for once?”

“No way, my brain is fully occupied by CP thoughts now. They’re definitely together. If they’re not, I’ll eat my phone!”

“I refuse to believe Sisi is gay!! How could she be a lesbian?!”

“So what if she is? Did being gay eat your rice?”

“It’s 2012 already, and there are still people discriminating against gays??”

“I was totally brainwashed by the CP fans yesterday, but now that I’ve thought it over carefully… Jiang Sisi didn’t really say anything, did she?”

“CP fans hyped it up yesterday +1. Calmed down today and rewatched the entire press conference. Jiang Sisi only made two points: first, she invited Leng Xiang to join the cast; second, Leng Xiang is hardworking and excellent. Then the crew’s birthday video for Leng Xiang was basically just clearing her name—nothing ambiguous. They kept saying Leng Xiang is a really good person.”

“Yeah, yeah, they kept repeating that: ‘Leng Xiang is a really good person.’ Honestly, the more I hear it, the weirder it sounds.”

“Like handing out a nice guy card. You’re not alone upstairs; I feel the same.”

“So what’s really going on with them?! Are they together or not?? I’m going crazy!!”

“I don’t care!! I’m sold anyway!! With this kind of vibe, they have to be together!!”

“I cried for them yesterday!! How can it not be real?! Maybe they really are together!!”

“Get real. They’re just good friends, that’s all. How many ‘good friends’ in the industry get shipped by CP fans and end up never speaking again? All because of you CP stans.”

“What do you mean upstairs? Wanna fight?!”

“That’s a broad brush painting the whole CP community.”

“…”

…

Leng Xiang woke from her sleep, clutched her forehead, rolled over in pain, and buried herself in the covers.

Her head spun, her eyes blurred, and her mouth was dry—classic hangover symptoms.

What happened yesterday?

Yesterday, Jiang Sisi held a press conference to clear up the rumors for her. It coincided with her birthday, so the crew threw her a party, and then…

She vaguely remembered getting drunk, someone picking her up and carrying her back. She had tried to grab that person’s hand, not wanting them to leave, but they left anyway.

Pei Shuang came in with a glass of hot water. She had gone back to the city yesterday while the crew wasn’t shooting, so she escaped the gathering unscathed.

Pei Shuang handed her the water and two hangover pills. “Take these; you’ll feel better.”

“You guys got so wasted. No wonder when I came back this morning, there wasn’t a soul on set.”

Leng Xiang swallowed the pills with the water, clutched her head, and lay back down. “What time is it?”

Pei Shuang: “Two in the afternoon.”

The whole crew must have blacked out and slept in an extra day.

Pei Shuang said, “Yesterday’s stuff has blown up on Weibo.”

Leng Xiang reached for her phone on the nightstand, took a sip of water, and casually asked, “Blowing up over what?”

What else could it be but Jiang Sisi’s press conference clearing things up for her?

Pei Shuang said, “The internet’s arguing whether you and Teacher Jiang are really together. Some insist you are, others don’t believe it, and it’s turned into a fight.”

Leng Xiang: “…”

Netizens were so bored these days.

Pei Shuang continued, “So, are you planning to come out?”

Leng Xiang nearly spat out her water.

She choked, coughing repeatedly until she finally caught her breath. “Jiang Sisi and I aren’t like that.”

Now it was Pei Shuang’s turn to be shocked. “You and Teacher Jiang aren’t together?”

Leng Xiang: “No.”

Pei Shuang asked in surprise, “Really not? But the whole crew thought you were.”

Leng Xiang almost dropped her phone. “…Huh?!”

She asked again, “…Why?”

Pei Shuang sat cross-legged on the bed, gesturing with her hands. “Because you two just feel so real.”

Leng Xiang fell silent.

She remembered what happened last night.

Last night, Jiang Sisi had carried her back to her room and tucked her in, then tried to leave. Leng Xiang had instinctively grabbed Jiang Sisi’s sleeve.

One question had lingered in her mind. Yesterday was such a perfect chance, but she hadn’t asked it before falling asleep.

A few days ago, she wouldn’t have had the courage to ask. But after yesterday, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Did Jiang Sisi… like her?

…

The next day, the crew finally sobered up enough to resume filming as usual.

Before shooting started, Jiang Sisi scanned the crowd with a glare, attacking the entire crew indiscriminately. “You all have some nerve, huh? Don’t want your year-end bonuses?”

Right—last year’s bonuses hadn’t been paid yet. They were waiting until Luxury Goods wrapped, then issuing them with performance bonuses.

The entire crew clammed up for the sake of their paychecks, huddling together like quails, trembling.

Jiang Sisi sighed in frustration. “Look at you lot—grown adults in your twenties and thirties, getting blackout drunk? The whole production base knows our crew partied so hard the security had to chase people all over the hotel two nights ago. You—you’re laughing? I’m talking about you!”

The lighting tech, singled out, immediately stood at attention.

Jiang Sisi fumed. “Do you even know what you did that night? Security tried to take you back to your room, you wouldn’t go—that’s one thing—but then you ran! Had security chasing you through the whole hotel, from the second floor to the sixteenth. And you were crying the whole time, yelling for your mom. A big guy like you crying? You embarrassed us so bad the entire base knows!”

The rest of the crew stole glances at each other, biting back laughs.

The lighting tech wanted to die of shame.

Having roasted everyone to her satisfaction, Jiang Sisi let the crew tidy up and get back to filming.

Leng Xiang changed into costume and prepared for her scene.

Jiang Sisi was on set talking to the assistant director, arranging actor blocking.

Leng Xiang sneaked glances at her with her peripheral vision.

Just now, Jiang Sisi had mocked the whole crew—even Pei Shuang, who wasn’t there—yet hadn’t said a word to her.

Well, to be precise, it wasn’t nothing. Jiang Sisi had told her that today’s scenes were mostly hers, to shoot well, hang in there, and they’d wrap soon.

The words were straightforward, tone even, with just the right touch of concern—nothing wrong on the surface.

But that lack of issue was the biggest issue.

Leng Xiang frowned.

She felt like overnight, her relationship with Jiang Sisi had reset to square one—or worse. Before, Jiang Sisi would joke and tease her. Now, she avoided those old jokes. Their interactions seemed mild and polite, but felt deliberately distant everywhere.

The slate operator came to notify Leng Xiang that the set was ready and they could start.

Leng Xiang pushed other thoughts aside and immersed herself in the role.

Today’s scenes were mostly with Li Guchuan. He played the male lead Su Ming, who would eventually marry Su Qing.

Li Guchuan had won Best Actor years ago; his skills were top-notch.

And today’s scenes tested Leng Xiang’s acting hard.

Su Qing liked this man named Su Ming. He was gentle, attentive, ambitious, and well-off to boot.

Su Qing knew Su Ming was the best marriage prospect a woman her age could hope for, so she never resisted his advances from the start.

Their relationship progressed smoothly, just as expected, with no meddlers or the absurd mishaps she’d had with her previous three boyfriends.

But something always felt missing.

Su Ming picked her up from work with milk tea. Afterward, they’d catch a movie and shop. A blockbuster popcorn flick had just released—one Su Qing loved.

Su Qing waited at the cinema entrance with popcorn while Su Ming bought tickets. She saw two girls enter the theater together, giggling.

That’s when she realized what was missing.

Before, new releases meant Jiang Chuan dragging her along.

In this scene, Su Qing had to show appreciation and fondness for Su Ming, tinged with hesitation and uncertainty.

She laughed so hard during the movie that she leaned on the person beside her, thinking at first it was Jiang Chuan—only realizing later it was Su Ming.

Su Ming clasped her hand, interlocking their fingers.

She hesitated but didn’t pull away.

Her heart struggled, wavered, but ultimately acquiesced.

Even she wouldn’t admit it to herself.

What was love, anyway?

A suitable match, harmonious companionship, or reckless moth-to-flame passion?

Love was the desire to draw close yet flee.

This was the toughest scene in the film: subtle implication without declaration, all inner turmoil conveyed through eyes and subtle gestures—a real acting test.

But Leng Xiang outperformed Jiang Sisi’s expectations by miles.

The assistant director marveled repeatedly. “She’s amazing. So much progress in just seven days off—not easy, not easy.”

Jiang Sisi watched the monitor. “She really nailed it.”

Effort never went to waste.

Talent was rare; the industry had seen only one Song Limo in all these years.

But input always equaled output.

The last scene before wrap featured Li Guchuan and Leng Xiang again.

Su Ming walked Su Qing down the street at dusk, sunset glow bathing their shoulders.

Su Ming popped into a convenience store. Su Qing sat on a bench outside, waiting. Suddenly, someone sat beside her.

Su Qing looked up and froze, panic flooding her.

Jiang Chuan sat there.

Just then, Su Ming emerged with a bag, reaching for Su Qing’s hand. Seeing her pale face, he asked what was wrong.

Su Qing said nothing, and when she looked back, Jiang Chuan was gone.

Just an illusion.

They continued down the street, hand in hand.

The camera pulled back: Jiang Chuan stood at the horizon’s end, gazing into the sunset.

She was indeed an illusion—a dream, attainable yet forever out of reach.

…

The crew wrapped for the day.

Li Guchuan released Leng Xiang’s hand. She collapsed onto the curb, utterly drained.

She clutched her head and looked up at Pei Shuang.

Pei Shuang stood at a precisely marked spot, set up by the crew to create that sunset dream illusion when the camera pulled in.

Seeing Leng Xiang off, she hurried over, squatted down, and touched her forehead with the back of her hand. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

Leng Xiang looked up, her eyes locking onto Pei Shuang’s.

Pei Shuang nearly recoiled from the raw emotion in them.

Leng Xiang covered her eyes, swatted her hand away, and said, “I’m fine.”

Wang Linlin handed her a cup of water.

Her hands shook; she gripped it with both until they steadied.

She had immersed too deeply. Her own uncertainties resonated intensely with Su Qing.

For a moment, she was Su Qing.

All she’d learned lately, she’d internalized—and this scene poured it out perfectly.

She clutched her forehead.

Now she understood why Jiang Sisi had said she couldn’t capture Su Qing’s later emotions, and why Jiang Sisi had given her those private lessons.

Her head throbbed painfully. She clutched it and sat quietly, trying to calm her emotions.

She thought that perhaps she really hadn’t been a good actress before.

It turned out that filming was such a painful ordeal.

Jiang Sisi walked over and handed her a towel.

Leng Xiang took it and draped the towel over her head. She sat on the roadside, hugging her knees, her head bowed as she stared at the ground.

Jiang Sisi immediately understood what was going on. She reached out and ruffled Leng Xiang’s hair through the towel. “You always have to go through this process. You did very well.”

Leng Xiang tilted her head to look at her. Half her face was hidden under the towel, revealing only one eye.

She stayed silent for a moment before saying, “I really wasn’t a good actress before.”

Jiang Sisi smiled. “But you are now.”