Chapter 48: Their eyes all seemed to say—come kiss me. Part 2

Qu An’ge had no choice but to go home.

This time, even the deductive method didn’t work. Qu An’ge mulled it over and could only guess it was because they kissed in the living room, almost seen by Tan Zhenzhen and the others, so Xu Mi felt shy.

Or maybe she was still unhappy about her going to act.

Somewhat troubled.

Yet thinking back to the soft, moist sensation from a few hours ago, she couldn’t help pressing her lips.

My wife is so sweet…

But why exactly is my wife angry?

She tossed and turned all night in this manner, only dozing off a little just before the alarm rang. When she woke, she groggily rushed to the docks.

She promptly fell asleep on the boat, only feeling a bit better after disembarking. The docks were bustling, the incense table for the ceremony already set up.

When a film crew starts shooting, it’s customary to pay respects.

But which deity to worship depended on the director and others. Director Fan always paid respects to Tang Xianzu. She said Tang Xianzu was the founding master of the opera world, and his plays have been passed down through the ages, making it auspicious.

From this, you could tell Director Fan wasn’t a particularly commercial director; she truly had a heart for leaving behind a classic.

She was also easygoing. Seeing Qu An’ge exhausted, she told her, “After the ceremony, you can go rest. I’ll have them set up a sunshade first.”

Qu An’ge hurriedly said, “No need, no need. I’m already awake.”

Her gaze swept over and she spotted someone approaching—a future acquaintance. A man around thirty, with thick brows and a tall nose. Just looking at his brows and eyes, he radiated righteous heroism, but his narrow face and thin lips somehow gave off a sense of gloom.

Shen Hai. In 2018, he would win the Golden Statue Awards Best Actor for Return of the South.

Since her awakening, Qu An’ge had lost her aesthetic sense for men, but according to many, Shen Hai was handsome. Importantly, he possessed a deep, melancholic aura, setting him apart from the crowd of equally handsome actors and giving him a unique charm.

Qu An’ge admitted Shen Hai had a unique charm in films, but couldn’t see it in real life anyway. The man smiled, narrowing his eyes. “Well now, Director Fan, is this our leading lady?”

With his narrowed eyes, he had a creepily cultured yet villainous vibe. Qu An’ge couldn’t help saying, “If you’re nearsighted, just put on your glasses.”

Indeed, what many fans called his “killer sexy gaze” was actually just severe nearsightedness coupled with a dislike of wearing glasses.

Shen Hai froze, fumbled in his pants pocket for his glasses, put them on, then looked Qu An’ge up and down. “You could tell that?”

Qu An’ge smiled innocently. “I used to have a friend like that. Because he didn’t like wearing glasses, he’d always squint.”

Director Fan exclaimed, “So that’s why you squint! I thought…”

She stopped abruptly. Shen Hai asked, “Thought what?”

Qu An’ge couldn’t help laughing, because she knew the answer.

Director Fan muttered, “I thought you were just trying to look cool.”

Shen Hai speechlessly pressed his forehead.

This man played the behind-the-scenes villain, more or less the male lead.

A while later, another group rushed hurriedly to the docks. In their midst was a young woman with fair skin and long, slender limbs. She ran straight up to Director Fan, saying, “Sorry, sorry, I got up late.”

Director Fan wasn’t very pleased she’d gotten up late, but because of her good temper, she still smiled. “It’s fine, we’re still in time.”

Then she introduced to Qu An’ge, “This is your ‘best friend’.”

Qu An’ge extended her hand in greeting. “Qu An’ge.”

The other girl took off her hat, her face flushed red. Fine, long eyes and brows, faint eyebrows, and a small, rounded nose formed a delicate face that was unremarkable at first glance but very pleasing upon closer inspection. She lightly grasped Qu An’ge’s hand, then quickly let go, murmuring softly, “Yi Nandie.”

This person was the core of the movie, the deceased “best friend” of the female lead.

Qu An’ge vaguely remembered her. Her resources in the past two years had been quite good, but despite having resources, she couldn’t become popular. It seemed later she changed her name to “Yi Nannan,” but remained a second-tier figure.

Her looks were of the fresh, youthful type, theoretically appealing to audiences. With good resources too, it was unclear why she remained lukewarm.

Two cameras were set up beside the incense table, both covered with red cloth. After the crew, director, actors, and others paid their respects one by one, Director Fan pulled Qu An’ge along to unveil the red cloth. Then everyone took a group photo in front of the incense table. With that, the opening ceremony was complete.

Qu An’ge secretly took a photo and sent it to Xu Mi, saying—【Opening ceremony】

Xu Mi quickly replied—【May everything go smoothly.】

Starting with that, Xu Mi proceeded to send a string of auspicious phrases.

When Qu An’ge said, “I’m about to shoot the first scene,” Xu Mi replied, “Hope it goes swimmingly.” When Qu An’ge said, “The director praised my performance,” Xu Mi said, “May all your wishes come true.” By the second day, when Qu An’ge said she had to go into the sea, Xu Mi said, “Stay safe and sound.”

That night, in her bedroom, Qu An’ge stared at the chat log, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Finally unable to bear it, she asked—【Can you say something else?】

Xu Mi replied—【So demanding. Not replying anymore.】

Qu An’ge immediately begged for mercy. Xu Mi seemed to be just talking, quickly replying,【Get some rest early, good night.】

Qu An’ge took a photo of the night view outside her window and sent it to Xu Mi.

The alternate account called “Let’s Get Married Tomorrow” started updating again, continuing from before—【@Let’sGetMarriedTomorrow: Day one of not seeing the wife again, missing her.】

Filming progressed like wildfire.

Though most of the time was spent soaking in the seawater, which was really quite cold in the autumn weather.

Shen Hai left right after the opening ceremony because his schedule was busier, his scenes pushed to later. For now, filming mainly focused on the daily life of the female lead and her “best friend,” mostly scenes between Qu An’ge and Yi Nandie.

Having had little contact in her previous life, Qu An’ge didn’t understand her. After a few scenes together, she more or less figured it out.

The girl’s looks were fresh, and her personality was also rather fresh—neither hot nor cold, without much ambition or drive.

This role was secured by her company; she herself had little interest. For the first few scenes, Director Fan had a huge headache. Even with her good temper, she scolded, “Are you a block of wood? Can you put some emotion in your eyes?”

Although Yi Nandie lacked drive, she had a sense of shame. Being young, she performed even worse after being told off. Director Fan told her to go adjust her state, so Yi Nandie hid in a corner, secretly shedding tears, too afraid to let anyone see by making the slightest noise.

Now familiar with Director Fan, and with Director Fan appreciating her, Qu An’ge jokingly said, “Director Fan, she’s just a young girl, you’re too fierce.”

Director Fan rolled her eyes at her. “You’re only one year older than her. What are you pretending to be an elder for? If she were half as worry-free as you, I could save some storage space.”

Qu An’ge felt a bit dazed. She was still largely stuck in the mindset that girls in their early twenties were all her juniors.

Her eyes glanced to the side, seeing Yi Nandie squatting not too far away, impossible to tell if she had heard Director Fan’s words.

She secretly frowned, thinking, if she did hear, it wouldn’t create a grudge, would it?

With that thought, during lunch, Qu An’ge tried to make conversation with Yi Nandie. They talked about the weather, the scenery, and finally, online trending topics. Yi Nandie grew a bit awkward here, because the hottest topic recently was “Jiang Yuan Get Out of Showbiz,” and many people knew Jiang Yuan had almost been the lead for this movie.

She didn’t dare make a sound, because before coming, her agent had warned her to be very careful interacting with Qu An’ge, saying she herself had no brains while Qu An’ge was clearly someone with methods.

Yi Nandie knew she wasn’t very smart, so she became too afraid to speak, and the conversation died.

This attempt at small talk wasn’t very successful. The more they talked, the more awkward it got, so they just dropped it. That evening, Qu An’ge was squatting at the side, scrolling through Xu Mi’s videos. Yi Nandie passed by and suddenly exclaimed in surprise, “You also like Honey Xu?”

Qu An’ge felt a jolt in her heart and turned around, shocked.

What did this person just say?

She quickly realized, through Yi Nandie pointing at her screen, that this “Honey Xu” wasn’t that “Xu Mi.” Yi Nandie liked the online food blogger Honey Xu.

She heaved a huge sigh of relief and nodded. “Yes, yes, I’m a loyal fan.”

Yi Nandie crouched down, also opening her own phone and pulling up her Weibo favorites, which were full of Xu Mi’s videos. Yi Nandie clicked on the first one where Xu Mi showed her back, saying, “I like this one the most. I don’t know why, but I cried watching it.”

She murmured, “So I actually really like this role and this movie. I also want to be part of a story by the sea…”

As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes again. She wiped them with a tissue, secretly glancing around as if checking no one had seen.

Qu An’ge saw that the girl was emotionally delicate, which reminded her of Xu Mi, so she couldn’t help consoling her. “Cry if you want, what does it matter.”

Yi Nandie shook her head, saying nothing.

The afternoon shoot was a scene of the two running through an empty alley. For Qu An’ge, this alley run appeared twice: once here, to show the female lead’s bright cheerfulness, and once in the final few scenes, when she was being chased by the killer.

Qu An’ge naturally only had to show happiness, but Yi Nandie needed some complex expressions. Yet Yi Nandie, forget complex expressions, could barely avoid panting for breath even while running. Director Fan lost her temper, throwing down her megaphone, “Forget it.”

At the start of November, the weather grew colder day by day. Director Fan had planned to finish all sea scenes by mid-November so the actors and stunt doubles wouldn’t suffer too much. But delays with Yi Nandie meant it was looking impossible.

The atmosphere on set was inevitably grim and somewhat oppressive.

It was at this start of November that Tan Zhenzhen, looking at the fallen leaves outside the window, felt the oppressive clouds and the difficulty of work.

Because the boss had been in low spirits for a long time. Even when she handed in material and looked up, she had a lethargic expression.

Affecting recent videos, the atmosphere got gloomier and gloomier. A comment said—【Although I know it’s a style, seeing too much of it really gets aesthetically tiring.】

This wouldn’t do.

She stretched lazily, then suddenly turned back and said to everyone, “We’re running low on material. I suddenly have an idea. Let’s switch maps.”

Yue Mei rolled her eyes. “Speak like a normal person.”

Tan Zhenzhen said, “Let’s go to the island.”

Xu Mi’s brow jumped. She heard Tan Zhenzhen say, “How about Little Sand Island? I heard a certain someone is there filming too.”