Chapter 41

Jian Shichu gave her a brief glance but said nothing, shifting her gaze back to her phone to finish the incomplete message.

Being ignored didn’t sit well with Tang Qin. Though not a top-tier star, she was still a big celebrity who got along with everyone.

“We met once before shooting when we had dinner. There was a little misunderstanding back then—do you remember?” Tang Qin kept her smile in place as she nudged the fruit plate toward the center a bit.

Jian Shichu remained unmoved until she hit send. Only then did she slowly look at her. “I remember.”

The word was simple, and her tone seemed normal at first listen. But as the sunset gradually sank, the shadows stretched, pulling at the mild smile on Tang Qin’s lips.

Tang Qin wasn’t pleased with her attitude but forced a smile anyway. “I think you might have some misunderstanding about me, Miss Jian. I haven’t had a chance to explain what happened that time. Teacher Wen and I were talking about the script. I have a bad memory and was afraid I’d forget, so I recorded it.”

Jian Shichu slipped her phone into her pocket, leaned back in her chair, and met her gaze levelly, her expression unchanging.

Seeing that Jian Shichu was at least listening, Tang Qin continued. “I heard from Director Wang that you and Teacher Wen were university classmates. With so many people in the crew gossiping, it’s inevitable that some unpleasant rumors will spread when you’re seen together so often. But I don’t believe them. I don’t mean anything by it. I just want to say that what happened before was all a misunderstanding—don’t take it to heart.”

Her words sounded like a business negotiation; in another setting, she’d be toasting with baijiu to seal the deal.

Jian Shichu watched her, slipping her own hands into her pockets as she leaned forward from the chairback. “I’m not taking it to heart.”

With things said this far, Tang Qin’s face stiffened. She suppressed a scoff, and the scene fell silent for a few seconds.

“Miss Jian, I’m not joking. If you really don’t care, then why do I feel like your eyes on me every time you visit the set are a bit strange?”

Jian Shichu’s eyes didn’t leave her. Tang Qin came off like someone used to constant flattery, radiating arrogance.

Jian Shichu said flatly, “Oh, that’s just because I don’t like you.”

With that, she stood up, her gaze shifting from level to looking down at her. “You came over to me and laid all this groundwork just to tell me what the crew’s saying, right? I’m not in a hurry, so why are you? Can you stop acting like the nice guy?”

“Miss Jian, it seems your misunderstanding of me runs deep.” Tang Qin stood as well. “Or did someone say something about me that made you think poorly of me?”

Jian Shichu let out a scoff. “Say what about you? Like how you signed the contract but backed out at the last minute, spread rumors to kick the screenwriter out of the crew to satisfy your hypocrisy? Or how you want to add scenes now that the market’s shifted, chasing both fame and profit? You think I’d have such a low opinion to fall for your attempts to drive a wedge between us?”

In just a few sentences, Jian Shichu left Tang Qin’s face ashen, her makeup unable to hide the pallor.

She had no intention of lingering. As she hooked her foot around the chair leg to turn and leave, Tang Qin forced a dry laugh. “You can’t just say things like that…”

Jian Shichu glanced back, cutting her off. “Oh, right—be careful what you say to me next time. I’ll be recording.” A smile played at her lips as she pulled out her phone.

As for the crew rumors Tang Qin mentioned, Wang Yun hadn’t asked her about them, but she knew full well what they were about—nothing more than her being seen getting close to Wen Zhixu without discretion lately.

So people gossiped. With a crowd, that’s how it went—one sentence from each person, and it snowballed beyond control.

Jian Shichu waited for Wen Zhixu not far away. Wang Yun was upstairs in the restaurant going over lines with Su Yun; she hadn’t seen them but heard it from the lighting guy.

Ten minutes later, Wen Zhixu emerged. Jian Shichu pocketed her phone and went to meet her, slinging an arm around Wen Zhixu’s shoulders and pulling her close.

In broad daylight, under the watchful eyes of the entire crew, without a hint of avoidance—this was something even good friends might do, but the look in her eyes gave it away.

Wen Zhixu froze, her shoulder twitching in reminder. “What are you doing?”

Wen Zhixu wasn’t worried about anything else; the crew already knew about her connection to Wang Yun, and there had been some nasty rumors about them before.

But Jian Shichu not only didn’t let go—she tilted her head with a smile. “Nothing. Just want to start some scandal rumors with you.”

“Let go. I’m telling you, there’s already enough gossip in the crew right now.” Wen Zhixu lowered her voice, her face flushing red as her eyes scanned the surroundings.

Passing extras and crew members glanced over, but everyone tacitly looked down, pretending not to see, though their darting eyes betrayed them.

“That makes it even better—let’s make it real.” Jian Shichu didn’t care, speaking casually.

Wen Zhixu couldn’t win against her. She glanced sideways and spotted the bandage on Jian Shichu’s wrist, the edges still bruised.

“How did you get hurt?” Wen Zhixu turned to her, taking her hand to look. There were three bandages on her wrist.

Jian Shichu didn’t pull away, letting the back of her hand rest in Wen Zhixu’s palm. “Fell. It’s not a big deal.”

Wen Zhixu looked up sharply, her hand brushing Jian Shichu’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. Jian Shichu immediately twisted away with a hiss of pain, her brows slowly furrowing.

“Wasn’t it just a cramp?” Wen Zhixu eyed her.

“How did you fall? I didn’t use much force just now, so why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Wen Zhixu tried to rein in her impatience.

Her words jumped around, but Jian Shichu knew Wen Zhixu was worried. She relaxed and said, “It’s not serious. What’s the point of going?”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go to the hospital.” Wen Zhixu turned away, releasing Jian Shichu’s hand.

When she got anxious, she got angry, but she could hold back her temper. Before, she’d thought she wasn’t good at caring for others, unsure how to express many things properly.

Over time, she’d grown a bit, or maybe Jian Shichu’s straightforward ways had changed her—her way of expressing herself had gradually improved.

On the way, Wen Zhixu gave Jian Shichu the cold shoulder. At the hospital, the checkup showed no damage to muscles or bones; Jian Shichu had just hit a rock. Seeing the report, Wen Zhixu finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The doctor was especially nice, prescribing some topical meds and patiently explaining how to use them over and over.

Back home, Wen Zhixu still wasn’t speaking to her. She slammed the door shut with a bang, set the plastic bag of meds on the table, and went to the bar counter to pour water—all in one fluid motion.

Water filled the bottom of the glass. Wen Zhixu’s gaze stayed on it.

Jian Shichu sidled up beside her. “Xiao Xu, the doctor said there’s no muscle or bone damage. Can you talk to me?”

Wen Zhixu stayed silent, picking up the glass and downing half of it in one go before setting it down with a slow exhale.

When she finally looked at Jian Shichu, she said nothing, silently pulling out her phone. Her wrist hung limp as she turned the screen toward Jian Shichu.

It was the chat with Wu Yang, the same conversation from before.

Jian Shichu read it straight-faced, then met Wen Zhixu’s serious expression. She seemed to read something into it.

The quiet standoff slowly turned into a sense of helplessness. Fortunately, there was no anger throughout.

Jian Shichu cleared her throat and drawled, “So, that’s it—you saw me change clothes this afternoon, didn’t even ask, and just assumed, pinning the blame on me?”

“You didn’t tell me beforehand. You said it was a cramp, and you were fine when we went out at noon. How was I supposed to know what happened?” Wen Zhixu pocketed her phone. Wu Yang had said it, and while she couldn’t think of anyone else, she wouldn’t suspect Jian Shichu.

That said, Wu Yang might very well be lying. Showing it to Jian Shichu was just to remind her: not telling the truth could lead to misunderstandings over certain things someday.

“Do you want to hear what you said?” Jian Shichu took a deep breath, feeling both amused and helpless.

Wen Zhixu didn’t argue with her, tossing her phone on the bar counter and brushing past her to the bathroom. The pajamas from last night hadn’t been washed before they left, and the bathroom light flicked on.

Jian Shichu followed close. “Xiao Xu, don’t be mad. I won’t do it again next time.”

Wen Zhixu ignored her, grabbing the clothes and heading to the balcony. She half-squatted to toss them into the washing machine, which beeped in response.

What was she mad about? Not Wu Yang’s message or the misunderstanding, but that offhand remark. She was scared—scared something had happened to her.

Being sick didn’t feel good, and she hated taking medicine.

After closing the washing machine, the faint sound of running water started, growing quieter as she shut the balcony door.

Wen Zhixu reached the bedroom doorway, but Jian Shichu blocked her path, left hand on the doorframe, looming over her to assert her presence.

“Move. I need to change.”

Jian Shichu bent down and hugged her. She was better at coaxing than Wen Zhixu—or rather, she could do it very well.

“Don’t be mad, okay? I promise I won’t do it again next time.”

Wen Zhixu didn’t push her away. Jian Shichu’s arm was badly bruised, stark against her pale skin.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. That won’t work on me.” Wen Zhixu’s tone was flat.

Just as she finished speaking, the other’s lips pressed against hers. Her hand slowly slid upward, resting on her spine, the thin fabric letting her feel the warmth of those fingertips.

Wen Zhixu froze for a second before Jian Shichu pressed in even tighter, lightly biting and grinding against her while seizing her breath. It was as if she herself had sunk entirely into the sound of that breathing.

Then, catching her off guard, the tip of her tongue slipped inside, hooking her bit by bit and teasing her blood into a frenzy. Wen Zhixu’s breathing fell into chaos, that tentative probing swiftly overtaken by utter possession.

Wen Zhixu had no strength left to resist and could only try to steady her breathing. Her hot, humid breaths were like a valve suddenly opened—as reason drowned, her breathing grew heavier too.

The delicate kisses trailed slowly over her cheeks, the scorching intimacy assaulting her most vulnerable spots. By now, she had even forgotten she was still mad.

Jian Shichu had a real knack for sweet-talking people, but it wasn’t nearly enough for Wen Zhixu. Even as the searing breaths teased her until her whole body went numb, she clung to a shred of reason and gave her a light push.

The push did nothing—Wen Zhixu’s strength was utterly spent. Jian Shichu tightened her grip, engulfing her earlobe in wet heat, refusing to let even the fabric keep them apart anymore.

The bandage on Jian Shichu’s wrist scraped against her back, itching a little. Wen Zhixu was just about to say something when the breaths at her ear grew heavier. Her eyelashes fluttered—she wasn’t buying this coaxing tactic.

Wen Zhixu tamped down her racing heart and reached out to push again.

But amid the ragged breaths, she heard Jian Shichu’s voice: “Don’t be mad. I’ll let you top.”