A Promise in a Thought 56

Chapter 56

A few days before the Lantern Festival, Bo Muyu set off with the God of War film crew to a film studio in another province. Hongsheng had invested a large sum of money in this movie, so Su Man also went along.

Bo Muyu’s screenwriting task was already completed, so joining the crew was no big deal for her. During the flight, she was mostly thinking about Jiang Chenyin.

She thought about when this feeling had changed, and also about Jiang Chenyin’s kindness to her over the past many years, and the trivial matters between them after Jiang Chenyin had returned.

She thought about many, many things, including whether there was a possibility between them. As long as there was no one by Jiang Chenyin’s side, only her, then this possibility would become a little bigger. Even if Jiang Chenyin wouldn’t think of their relationship in terms of love, if she were the only one by her side, that would be enough.

They could live together, accompanying each other. Even if that secret thought in her heart could never see the light of day, it would not be a bad result.

But if there was even a little chance, she would definitely hold on to it tightly. She looked forward to the day when she could let Jiang Chenyin know all her thoughts, to be honest about everything. This was the attitude she had always maintained towards Jiang Chenyin.

On the plane, her gaze had no definite focus, and it even became calmer and dimmer, until only a wisp of fire remained.

When she first arrived at the film studio, Bo Muyu followed Su Man around the crew all day, discussing the script with her and the director’s team from time to time. The schedule was so tight that sometimes they even discussed it during meals.

What made her feel that she was always being thought of amidst her busy schedule was Jiang Chenyin. Every time she finished her work and opened her phone, she would basically see pictures or messages from her.

Sometimes it was a cluster of tall buildings, sometimes an empty conference room, and sometimes the high steps at the entrance of a hotel.

Every time she saw these, a slight smile would appear on Bo Muyu’s placid face, which she had maintained for several hours, and her thumb would slowly stroke the screen of her phone.

She was thinking in her heart, when the sun was very warm, Jiang Chenyin had taken a picture of the tall buildings outside the window. Was she resting because she was tired from work? When everyone in the conference room had left and only Jiang Chenyin was left, was it because she suddenly wanted to be alone quietly? And when she was standing at the entrance of the hotel after a social engagement, was it because she had had a drink and had to take a taxi home?

Bo Muyu would think about each photo for a long time, thinking about what Jiang Chenyin was doing. But as soon as she replied, she would be called away in a hurry, and it would be very late at night before she could go back to the hotel.

Jiang Chenyin had never asked her if she was very busy, or why she didn’t call, but the messages she sent would always remind her not to overwork herself.

After receiving another message from Jiang Chenyin, telling her that everything was fine and to pay attention to her rest, she sniffled. Finally, she followed Jiang Chenyin’s example and took a picture of the open script on her desk and pressed send.

Jiang Chenyin must have understood that her longing had never stopped. But only she herself knew that the longing in her heart had now changed.

Before filming the night scene, after dinner, Bo Muyu was going to see Su Man. As she passed a corner of the set, she heard a conversation with her name in it.

She paused, then quietly approached.

A young male voice asked with curiosity, “Is that Screenwriter Bo really that close to President Su? I see them together all day discussing the script.”

Another young but somewhat frivolous male voice laughed slyly, “I told you you’re not well-informed, and you still don’t believe me. I heard that President Su is a lesbian. She was very close to girls in school. This Screenwriter Bo, it’s not guaranteed that she and President Su… you know.”

Bo Muyu frowned. Just then, a middle-aged man cleared his throat.

The frivolous young man laughed again and asked, “Is that Master Li? I see you’re close to Director Yang from the director’s team. You should know more about these things than we do, right?”

“This kind of thing…” the middle-aged man pondered for a moment before smiling. “It’s a common thing in the industry. It’s understandable for Screenwriter Bo to have something with President Su for the sake of her future. And it’s not wrong for President Su to favor her so much. After all, they’ve already slept together…”

The three of them then laughed together. The frivolous man from before lowered his voice and asked, “I wonder how two women do it in bed. One woman can already drain a person dry. Two women doing it… just thinking about it makes my nose bleed…”

Bo Muyu’s gaze turned sharp, and she strode over.

The three of them were laughing happily. When they turned their heads and saw the person in question just a few steps away, the two young men, being less experienced, were immediately startled, and their laughter came to an abrupt halt.

The middle-aged man was a lighting technician and had been in the industry for half his life. Although he was surprised, he maintained his composure.

Bo Muyu’s cold gaze swept over them, and she said, “If you have time to chat, you might as well discuss the work for the scene later.”

“Hehehe, then we’ll be going now. Goodbye, Screenwriter Bo…”

The man with the frivolous tone immediately pulled the dazed man beside him, and the two of them left quickly with fawning smiles.

Bo Muyu didn’t look at them, her eyes without a trace of warmth, only the corners of her lips lifting slightly. “Master Li, you’re an old lighting technician. You should understand that rumors stop with the wise.”

“Actually, it’s nothing,” the Master Li, who looked kind but whose eyes were full of hypocrisy, said, spreading his hands and smiling at her. “It’s just chatting in private. Who in this industry doesn’t have some gossip? It just depends on whether it can be confirmed. You don’t have to care so much. Learn from those celebrities. It’s good for you.”

Bo Muyu narrowed her eyes. “Is that so?”

That Master Li said innocently, “You can’t blame me for these things. It’s all over the crew. The main director probably doesn’t know yet. The young director under him even talks to us about this, that Yang Qian. He works with you and says so.”

Yang Qian, the one she had sternly rejected last time.

Bo Muyu stood still, once again feeling that something she had never done was being spread around because of this person, Yang Qian, and in the end, three people make a tiger, and it became a fact.

And this time, even Su Man could not escape.

“Little girl, don’t be so serious. Be more mature,” Master Li said with a chuckle as he walked past her, even patting her shoulder with a feigned concern.

Mature?

Bo Muyu let out a cold, low laugh. She only felt cold, a cold she had never experienced before. But she had to get used to this cold. If she couldn’t endure it, she wouldn’t grow. And a person who couldn’t grow, how could they have the ability to warm the person they wanted to protect in their hands?

Back on the set, filming had already begun. Su Man took a script and a bottle of mineral water to the rest area.

Bo Muyu approached. Su Man, who had just sat down, looked up and saw her, and waved at her with a smile. “Xiaoyu, come, come and sit.”

“President Su,” Bo Muyu said, and after sitting down beside her, she thought for a moment and chose this external form of address.

Su Man noticed and asked, puzzled, “What’s wrong? There are no outsiders here.”

Bo Muyu thought for a moment and confessed, “There are some rumors in the crew about our close relationship. They’re very unpleasant to hear, and I’m afraid they’ll affect you.”

Su Man gazed at her usual expression, thought for a moment, and still asked, “Are you talking about the rumor about me being a lesbian?”

“Mmm,” Bo Muyu lowered her eyes slightly.

Su Man’s body subconsciously leaned forward, trying her best to keep her words steady. “Do you believe that I’m a lesbian?”

Bo Muyu looked up. She had subconsciously wanted to shake her head, but the word “lesbian” stopped her. She now understood her feelings for Jiang Chenyin, so she was also a lesbian.

But she was the same as before. She would not do anything against her conscience. So what was the difference between being a lesbian and being heterosexual? They were all the same. Why treat them differently?

With this thought, she neither shook her head nor nodded, but met Su Man’s gaze and said seriously, “Whether you’re a lesbian or not has nothing to do with your character. Even if you are, you’re still my senior. It’s nothing at all. Don’t take it to heart.”

Su Man was taken aback for a moment, then her heart was filled with joy, and she smiled at her. “I thought you would be repulsed by lesbians.”

Only then did Bo Muyu shake her head, a faint curve on her lips. “It’s not just heterosexuals who can fall in love. Homosexuals can too. I’ve seen it many times when I was researching for my scripts. There have been records of homosexuality since ancient times. For example, in the Chen Dynasty of the Northern and Southern Dynasties, the background of God of War this time…”

“Alright, alright,” Su Man patted her hand, her face beaming. “I know you’re well-read. I was just asking. You don’t have to explain so much to me.”

Bo Muyu’s lips pressed together, and she lowered her eyes, a little embarrassed for suddenly talking so much.

After she had recognized her feelings for Jiang Chenyin, she had subconsciously said a few more words.

Su Man glanced at the set, then at the faint dark circles under Bo Muyu’s eyes. Her heart ached, and she couldn’t help but say with concern, “Xiaoyu, you should go back to the hotel and rest early. There’s nothing much to do. We’ve already sorted out everything with the director these past few days.”

Hearing this, Bo Muyu frowned and glanced at the set, then lowered her eyes to the script Su Man had just tossed on the table, and slowly nodded.

“Okay. What about you, Senior?”

“I’m going back to rest too. I’ve been really tired these past few days.”

A warmth that outsiders had never seen was in Su Man’s eyes. The hand that had just gently patted Bo Muyu’s back was now slightly clenched, as if to hold something in her palm.

That night, Bo Muyu was back at the hotel before eight. Seeing the WeChat message from Jiang Chenyin saying that she had no social engagements in the evening, she couldn’t wait to take a shower and climb into bed with her laptop.

“Auntie Yin, let’s video chat.”

Just as the message was sent, Jiang Chenyin immediately sent a video call request.

Bo Muyu was lying on her stomach on the bed when she answered. The screen immediately showed Jiang Chenyin, still in a shirt, at her desk, with the furnishings of her study in the background.

Her long, curly hair was draped over her shoulders and back. Her usually gentle and beautiful face was a little more serious at this moment, her eyes looking at her intently, her fingers nimbly tapping on the keyboard.

Even so, the corners of her lips still lifted slightly after the video call connected.

Bo Muyu knew she was working and called out softly, “Auntie Yin.”

“Hmm? You’re not busy tonight?” Jiang Chenyin chuckled in a low voice.

Bo Muyu said, “I’m not busy. I’ve already showered. I’ll go to sleep after talking to you.”

“That’s good,” Jiang Chenyin’s smile deepened, and her typing speed increased. A moment later, she let out a light sigh, closed the document, and said with a smile, “I’m done too. Want to chat?”

“About what?” Bo Muyu just focused on looking at her. It didn’t matter what they talked about. It was enough to hear her voice.

Jiang Chenyin leaned closer to the screen, squinted a little, and then tapped the screen with her finger. “You have dark circles under your eyes. Have you not been resting well these past few days?”

Bo Muyu’s chin was resting on her folded hands, her cheeks puffed out slightly as she said in a muffled voice, “I’m okay. I’m just sleeping a few hours less than at home.”

She looked a little serious. Jiang Chenyin let out a soft laugh, then said in a warm voice, “Then you should rest early today. If you’re busy starting tomorrow, it’s okay if you don’t message me. I’ll make you something delicious when you come back.”

Bo Muyu looked at Jiang Chenyin’s face with fascination. She knew that Jiang Chenyin was looking at her, but the gaze through the computer screen seemed unable to connect. But even though she couldn’t touch her, her heart still throbbed for the woman on the screen.

In addition, there was a hint of an indelible sourness.

She wanted so much to say what was in her heart, in the name of love, but the truth was that she couldn’t. She held a wisp of hope in her heart. This faint flame could not withstand a single gust of wind or rain, could not withstand even a single impulse from her.

“What’s wrong? What are you spacing out for?” Jiang Chenyin smiled and tapped the screen with her bent index finger. “Big screenwriter, you’re out on set, and you still like to space out.”

Bo Muyu shook her head with her lips pressed together, resting her face on her hands, and once again tasted the bitterness of forbearance.

“Is something wrong with work?” Jiang Chenyin asked softly.

If she didn’t say something, she probably wouldn’t be at ease. Bo Muyu understood in her heart and looked at her, saying, “There are some rumors about me in the crew. I heard people talking about them today.”

Jiang Chenyin had always known about the rumors about Bo Muyu. Sure enough, she smiled and said, “Don’t be troubled by these things. Think more about what you have, think about how to consolidate it, and how to develop it. Don’t let yourself stay in the same place. When your achievements come more fiercely than your rumors, you won’t hear those voices anymore.”

Bo Muyu listened quietly to her gentle voice, her eyes not blinking. “Mmm, I understand.”

Jiang Chenyin let out a laugh. “Then let’s keep the video on for a little longer and then go to sleep.”

She didn’t leave the screen, just took a file from her desk, intending to video chat with Bo Muyu like this while they each did their own thing.

Her silent doting made Bo Muyu unable to suppress the longing in her heart for a moment. She said in a low voice, “Auntie Yin, I miss you. Do you miss me?”

Jiang Chenyin was used to Bo Muyu’s directness. She raised her watery, sparkling eyes, and the corners of her lips curved up.

Just as Bo Muyu’s heart was pounding like a drum, the phone by Jiang Chenyin’s hand rang.

“I’m going to take a call. I’ll be right back,” Jiang Chenyin said as she picked up her phone, then stood up and walked away from her desk.

Bo Muyu couldn’t let out the breath she had been holding and could only turn over and lie on her back.

She knew how Jiang Chenyin would answer that question, and she also knew the nature of her answer. But she couldn’t control herself from getting a little sweetness from Jiang Chenyin. A little bit was enough.

The sweetness and bitterness both came from the same person, but this person would not understand that even a speck of sweetness was enough to dissolve a thousand times the bitterness.

Jiang Chenyin suddenly tapped the screen. Bo Muyu quickly turned over and lay on her stomach to look. Jiang Chenyin was waving at her, her phone still to her ear, occasionally saying “mmm.”

Bo Muyu understood what she meant and said in a small voice, “Then I’ll hang up.”

Jiang Chenyin nodded. Bo Muyu did not show the disappointment in her heart on her face and quietly hung up the video.

After she turned off the lights and got under the covers, the question from just now was still lingering in her heart. She didn’t get an answer this time, and she didn’t know when she would. If she asked again next time, what would the nature of their relationship be?

Bo Muyu shook her head and snuggled under the covers.

It was late at night. She was not yet asleep, but she was already sleepy, her heart wondering if Jiang Chenyin had finished her work.

Just then, the phone she had casually placed on her bedside table lit up. From the side, she could see that a message had come in.

She immediately became alert, a little hopeful, and also a little cautious, hoping yet afraid of being disappointed.

Her body, huddled under the covers, was already moving towards the bedside table. Finally, she gritted her teeth, reached out, and took the phone, which had already gone dark, and lit it up again.

The WeChat message displayed on the screen made her eyes shine exceptionally brightly in the dark, quiet room.

“Of course I miss you.”