Chapter 10: The Film Empress Who Jumped Off a Building to Commit Suicide (10)

Bai Qian had zero interest in any of that.

Fortunately, she’d watched plenty of period dramas. After a moment’s thought, she picked up the thread seamlessly. “Miss Jiang, before I take you through the wedding gates, Zhen would never commit such a rude and reckless act. It’s getting late, Miss Jiang. Zhen will come find you tomorrow.”

By the time she’d spoken the final word, much of her drowsiness had vanished.

Seeing no reaction from the other woman—probably lost in the scene—Bai Qian withdrew her hand from where it rested on her waist and got out of bed without a shred of mercy.

No one stopped her all the way out of the room.

The next morning.

At the breakfast table.

Bai Qian casually brought up Shao Zizhi’s script, feigning nonchalance.

“Tell me about this drama of yours?”

The young woman had completely dropped her character. There was no trace left of last night’s tormenting “Empress Jiang.” Curious, she asked, “What’s up? Suddenly interested in my show? I tried talking to you about it before, but you never really wanted to listen.”

After last night’s ordeal, forget the drama—Shao Zizhi had developed full-blown PTSD at the mere mention of “Dugu Han.”

“Not at all. Just killing time. Might as well hear you out.”

The Little Princess, epitome of perfect table manners, shook her head in disapproval. “But we’re eating right now, Bai Qian. You should be like me: no talking at meals, no talking in bed.”

Bai Qian chuckled inwardly. The little one had some nerve. No talking at meals? When had she ever been this quiet? Which meal went by without her chattering away to herself?

“Don’t look at me like that, Bai Qian. Fine, fine, if you want to hear it, I’ll tell you. What do you want to know?”

“No need. Let’s eat first.”

Shao Zizhi pouted. “Bai Qian, are you mad at me? Just because I won’t talk about the script? How can you be so petty!”

Bai Qian: ? Women were terrifying.

Especially the women of the Shao Family. Extra terrifying!

“You’re really ignoring me? Bai Qian, how could you? It’s not like I really refused to tell you. I said you want—mmph.”

Bai Qian successfully silenced her with a shrimp dumpling. Meeting the young woman’s innocent gaze, she said, “Can you shut up now? If you don’t quiet down, I’ll really get mad.”

Shao Zizhi closed her mouth, clearly reluctant.

In the end, Bai Qian never did hear about the script. The moment breakfast was over, she had to rush off to the set.

As she left, the young woman was still puffing out her cheeks, sulking, not even bothering with a proper goodbye.

Amused by the expression, Bai Qian reached out to ruffle her hair and sighed. “Who knows where you picked up this temper from. Even Little Kitty is easier to placate than you.”

“Hmph! You’re the one in the wrong this time, and you say I have a bad temper? Bai Qian, your temper isn’t any better!”

“Alright, alright, my fault. I apologize, little one. Happy now?”

Shao Zizhi had been ready to chew her out for the perfunctory attitude, but when she looked up into those smiling, indulgent eyes, the words caught in her throat. Flustered, she ducked her head and clammed up.

“Then I’m off. What do you want for dinner tonight? I’m off tomorrow, so I can make whatever you’re craving.”

Shao Zizhi’s head snapped up, her eyes sparkling. “Sweet-and-sour fish! Spicy chicken! And that strawberry cake from Guan Street—Bai Qian, bring me one!”

“Got it. Stay home and wait for me. I should wrap up around four. I’ll call you early, and we can go pick it up together.”

“Okay!”

The little one’s temper was fierce, but coaxing her was a breeze.

~~~

The final scene wrapped, and Bai Qian called the cake shop to reserve the one Shao Zizhi wanted.

As Zhao Tong, now changed into casual clothes, called out to her.

“Bai Qian, I’ve got something to talk about. If you’re not in a rush, want to grab coffee?”

She had an hour before pickup, and factoring in the bus ride, it wouldn’t take more than half an hour from here. Bai Qian figured the timing and nodded. “Sure.”

In the coffee shop.

Slender fingers tipped with scarlet-red nail polish gently stirred the coffee, where a cube of sugar had just dissolved.

“Bai Qian, we’ve worked together for a while now. We’re not super close, but we can call each other ‘friends,’ right?”

Zhao Tong’s voice was cool and clear, at odds with her alluring, glamorous looks—like a crisp winter stream.

She spoke unhurriedly, her demeanor carrying an air of aloof elegance.

“Just say it. I reserved a cake; I’ve got to pick it up soon.”

Zhao Tong’s poised expression softened at her words. She let out a soft laugh, which made her seem less icy, like she’d shed a cold mask to reveal a gentler side underneath.

“Alright then, I won’t waste any more of your time. According to the schedule, this drama should wrap up by late November. Before that, I hope our relationship can get a bit more intimate than what’s actually on screen.”

Bai Qian got the hint immediately.

“You’re suggesting we hype up a CP later on?”

In most film and TV productions these days—especially romances—not a single lead pair skipped out on the whole CP marketing game.

Hype the CP, and you get the buzz, the hot topics, the free promotion from fans and shippers without shelling out for ads. The drama fans and CP stans would spread the word for you.

Bai Qian knew the drill inside out. She just hadn’t expected Zhao Tong to go there.

She wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Why?”

Zhao Tong’s looks could hold their own against any actress her age in the industry.

There was that one candid shot from a rainy night—her glancing back under a black umbrella—that went viral for its sheer stunning beauty. Countless casual fans turned it into wallpapers or profile pics.

Her fans adored her face, but they were frustrated that their idol was so obsessed with acting. Sure, passion for the craft was great, but she’d aced her classes, put in the work, and yet when the camera rolled, she just couldn’t let loose. Her expressions were either over-the-top distorted or stiffly unnatural. So, despite starring in over a dozen dramas since debuting, none had truly blown up.

She’d co-starred with plenty of male actors but never hyped a CP with any of them. Zhao Tong just focused on filming, kept interactions strictly professional, and ruthlessly nipped any budding shipper dreams in the bud.

Refusing to play the game was, besides her acting chops, another reason her shows tanked.

Who wanted to watch a drama where the leads were all lovey-dovey on screen but ice-cold strangers off it? No sugar to scrape together.

In that way, the original host had been a lot like her.

The difference? Zhao Tong had Shao Liangrong in her corner. The young miss of Shao Enterprises was willing to throw money at roles and resources. Even if this one flopped and lost cash, no big deal—the heiress had deep pockets to bankroll the next.

The original host, though? Just your average no-name eighteenth-tier actress. She’d blown her few lucky breaks, and turning things around was a pipe dream.

Now here was Zhao Tong—the girl who kept a ten-foot safety buffer from her on-screen partners off-set—coming to her about hyping a CP. Bai Qian was floored.

“Because it’s you, Shao Liangrong’s on board.” Zhao Tong explained without reservation. “You probably don’t realize it, but she gets a little jealous.”

Bai Qian stared straight at her, catching the fleeting shy flush when the woman mentioned “jealous”—gone in a blink, her face snapping back to that cool, detached poise.

“Then why me?”

Zhao Tong shot her a look that said, We both know the score, so why spell it out?

Bai Qian: “…”

How did the Shao family’s wild imaginations rub off on the Zhao family too?!

Seeing she wasn’t biting, Zhao Tong continued, “Shao Liangrong’s not so childish that she’d get jealous of her cousin’s girlfriend.”

“I told you, there’s nothing between me and Shao Zizhi.”

Zhao Tong nodded agreeably. “Got it. That’s the line you want me to run with, right?”

“…”

Back on track: “So, what do you think of my proposal?”

“No awkward almost-kisses or anything, right?”

Zhao Tong nearly fumbled her coffee spoon, her usual icy composure cracking visibly. “You seem to have some serious misconceptions about our characters’ relationship.”

“Hm?”

“The CP we’re hyping is a friendship one, not a romance.”

Bai Qian: “Then why make such a formal sit-down? Isn’t friendship shipping easy?”

Zhao Tong: “Web dramas these days are all about that girl-crush vibe, you know?”

Seeing her blank look, the woman sighed and elaborated. “We’re marketing it as sisterly love, but we still need to sprinkle in that subtle, ambiguous tension for the shippers—the kind that feels just a whisper away from something more. Get it?”

“Sort of. So, how exactly?”

“Whenever we’re together, keep it ambiguously close—more than friends, less than lovers. Share those fleeting glances. When apart, drop casual mentions in the right moments. That’s the gist. Just remember: hazy like mist over flowers, where every bloom looks its most beautiful.”

“Sounds doable. But we’re still filming—why plan this far ahead?”

Zhao Tong’s lips curved. “Fans love digging for crumbs. And when they find not just fresh sugar but old sugar too? That double hit of sweetness can spark some real magic.”

The partnership was happily sealed.

Bai Qian followed Zhao Tong out the door one after the other, only to spot Shao Liangrong’s car parked by the roadside.

The young woman poked her head out the window with a grin. “Finally done chatting? Bai Qian, where are you headed? Want a ride?”

Bai Qian had no qualms about sparing her wallet and hopped right in without a second thought.

“Where to? Just send me the location on WeChat.”

Shao Liangrong pulled up the app and glanced at the address, her curiosity piqued. “A cake shop? Is it your birthday today?”

“My sister had a craving for cake, so I’m grabbing one on the way.”

The car let out a piercing screech as Shao Liangrong slammed on the brakes, yelling in disbelief, “You’re already living together with my sister?!!”

Bai Qian rubbed her ear. “She’s just putting me up for now—it’s not like we’re shacking up. Why are you so shocked? Didn’t she tell you?”

“My sister puts on two completely different faces—one for you, another for me. She knows every little thing about my life, down to the tiniest detail, but I’m always the last to hear about hers. Oh, right—Bai Qian, does my uncle and his wife know you’re dating my sister?”

“…”

“Aiya, you’re about to start shipping CP with our Zhao Tong, so things are different now. And I can keep a secret—if you tell me not to say anything, my lips are sealed. I won’t breathe a word to another soul.”

Bai Qian let out a dry chuckle. “I wonder who it was that spilled every detail about her relationship with Zhao Tong to me the very first day we met.”

“That was—ow, wuwu! Tong Tong, why are you pinching me? I’m driving here—it’s dangerous!”

Zhao Tong sneered. “I thought Shao Zizhi and Bai Qian had brought it up, but it turns out it was you, you idiot, who blabbed. Spill it—who else have you told?”

“No one, no one, I swear! Just Bai Qian, really. Wuwuwu, I didn’t mean to—it was a total brain fart. It won’t happen again, promise!”

Bai Qian quietly lowered her window, letting the mild evening breeze wash over her face. The cold dog food being shoveled her way was leaving her stuffed to the gills.

The car pulled up to the destination, and Zhao Tong hopped out with her to pick up a ready-made cake from the shop.

As they said their goodbyes, Zhao Tong couldn’t resist one last reminder. “Don’t forget to post on Weibo at six sharp. No need to @ me—just get the angle right and make sure the cake shop’s logo is visible.”

“Got it. Is all this hustling really worth it?”

Zhao Tong looked profoundly knowing. “You have to immerse yourself first if you want the audience to buy in. Right now, we’re just rehearsing. Once the interactions ramp up later, it’ll feel like the real show.”

Shao Liangrong chimed in. “Baby, you make it all sound so wise and sensible. So how come you forget every bit of it the second you’re on set?”

The nosy Shao Liangrong paid for her big mouth with a swift smack.

She stumbled back toward the car, ear pinched tight, grimacing in pain as she waved frantically at Bai Qian. “Bai Qian, I’ll keep your living situation with my sister under wraps! For my sincerity, next time something’s up with her, give me a heads-up, yeah? Oh, and I ordered you a little surprise—no need to thank me!”

Bai Qian blinked in confusion. She’d only taken a couple steps along the curb when a horn blared right beside her.

She jumped in fright again and whipped around, ready to ask why Shao Liangrong had circled back—only to lock eyes with Shao Zizhi’s warm, smiling gaze.

Shao Liangrong’s surprise had arrived.

“Didn’t I say I’d let you know when I was almost home? Why’d you come out so soon?”

Shao Zizhi looked thoughtful. “Something Shao Liangrong said just struck a chord with me.”

“She told you to come pick me up?”

The young woman shook her head, her smile radiant. “She said a proper partner never lets their girlfriend take the bus home.”