Chapter 76: 076 – The Mute Courtesan’s Plea to Retain Her Patron

The scene of the mute prostitute desperately trying to keep her patron was a segment from Carving Jade, set after the female lead had been sent to the army camp as a camp follower.

Her beauty was so extraordinary that on her first night, she was delivered straight to the great general’s tent. In a desperate bid to protect her chastity and her life, the female lead planned to hurl grenades at the general, seize him off guard, and escape the camp. But her scheme was seen through in an instant, leaving her life hanging by a thread.

Fragrant warmth in the soft tent, cradled in a beauty’s arms—intending to survive the spring night with a hairpin turned murder weapon.

Song Guiya had read the full script and remembered this pulse-pounding game of wits all too well. It reminded her of her past life, when she had disguised herself as a brothel girl to assassinate Prince Liang’s Heir.

The only difference was that Prince Liang’s Heir had ultimately died beneath her blade.

She just never imagined she’d one day perform this scene opposite Xi Tongyue.

Putting on the seductive airs of a brothel girl in front of her was a little embarrassing, no matter how she sliced it.

But with things having come this far, she had no choice but to throw herself into the role completely. Only then could she secure the part without letting Xi Tongyue down.

“Teacher Xi, are you ready too? Let’s get started, then.”

At the vice director’s cue, Song Guiya snapped out of her reverie. She knelt before the desk, her fingers dancing over the qin strings. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze had transformed entirely—not her usual cool detachment, nor the resolute steel of the female general from moments before, but the raw grief and defiance of someone whose life had been upended.

Yet in the instant the tent flap was thrown open, that emotion sank deep into her eyes, replaced in a flash by gentle composure.

Xi Tongyue strode into the tent, standing tall and imposing. Her jet-black hair was tied high atop her head, and with the lipstick wiped away, her lips revealed a pale pink hue, pressed into a firm line that spoke of a battle-hardened veteran’s cool austerity.

The Western Expedition General had been enfeoffed as a king and granted command at a young age. He was always calm and self-possessed, with no interest in women. But whenever camp followers arrived, his officers never failed to silently select the most beautiful one and send her over—whether the general made use of her or not—as a gesture of respect.

Xi Tongyue glanced up and spotted the extra woman in her tent. Her handsome brows furrowed slightly, the little mole at the corner of her eye betraying a hint of displeasure.

She was on the verge of summoning someone to cart the intruder away when the beauty, who had been kneeling, rose slowly to her feet. Her loose hair tumbled down her back, framing features of breathtaking clarity. Without a word, a faint smile playing at her lips, she approached. Her eyes, clear as spring water, held no ripples, and in the cold light, her alabaster skin seemed dusted with a thin layer of frost.

Xi Tongyue watched her approach without a flicker of emotion in her dark eyes.

It wasn’t until the woman reached her, laying a hand on her belt to loosen her robes, that Xi Tongyue seized her slender wrist in an iron grip and flung it away. “This King’s tent requires no attendants. Out with you.”

Song Guiya lowered her gaze to the red mark blooming on her wrist, her expression one of helpless uncertainty.

Xi Tongyue let out a soft scoff. “Are you still not leaving?”

Song Guiya lifted her head, revealing a face as pure and ethereal as a lotus blossom emerging from clear water. A mist seemed to gather in her eyes, softening the heart of anyone who looked upon her.

The two women locked eyes in silence, neither uttering a word.

Xi Tongyue’s gaze was profound, her brows tightly knit, her tone laced with mockery as she murmured, “A mute, is she?”

In the early days, the Western Expedition General had disguised himself to pay court to the previous dynasty’s emperor. They had crossed paths once before, albeit separated by a veil—but she had heard the general’s voice. So from the moment she was sent to the camp and realized it was the Western Expedition’s stronghold, she had pretended to be a speechless mute.

Song Guiya ignored the mockery as if she hadn’t heard it, reaching out insistently to tug at Xi Tongyue’s belt once more.

Xi Tongyue sidestepped her hand and wasted no more words, opening her mouth to call out. “Come—”

The single syllable was cut short by a finger as soft and boneless as cotton pressing against her lips. Song Guiya’s eyes shimmered with desperate entreaty, as though summoning anyone would spell her doom.

When the general made no further move, terrified of squandering her one chance, a glint of resolve flashed in Song Guiya’s eyes. Beneath that piercing stare, she began to shed her garments, piece by piece.

Xi Tongyue’s black pupils stirred faintly, but in the end, she did not stop her.

As her fingertips worked their delicate dance, glimpses of the beauty’s slender, exquisite shoulders and neck came into view—snowy skin gleaming like polished jade beneath. Her waist and abdomen were taut and willow-slim, her legs below long and straight, porcelain-pale. Step by step, she moved in rhythm with the flickering candlelight, like a dancer entranced.

In the silent expanse of the large tent, the young woman danced like a blooming flower, graceful and poised. Her cool, refined features traced a mesmerizing picture, from which invisible threads seemed to weave outward, ready to bind and draw people in—threads that could make anyone willingly drown forever within their grasp.

Her movements were a touch stiff, yet they lost none of their beauty. Instead, they carried an unwitting allure.

Everyone watched, utterly entranced.

Xi Tongyue subtly blocked the view from behind her, then reached out and drew the swaying flower into her embrace. In an instant, their bodies pressed tightly together.

Xi Tongyue could clearly feel the softness before her, stirring a restless impulse deep within.

At the same time, a familiar yet unfamiliar perfume wafted to her nose—one that had nothing to do with Song Guiya.

In that moment, she understood the reason for Song Guiya’s cool demeanor upon entering.

Xi Tongyue wanted to laugh, but with the scene still in play, she kept her expression neutral.

She scooped the other woman up into a horizontal carry and laid her upon the bed, leaning down as if to lose herself in the moment. She remained oblivious to the flash of ruthless determination in the eyes of the woman beneath her.

Song Guiya kept her composure as she raised the Biluo Hairpin high and plunged it straight toward the other’s back.

Just as she thought her ploy had succeeded, a scornful chuckle sounded in her ear.

The next instant, the hairpin snapped in two.

Golden silk soft armor?!

Song Guiya’s amber eyes reflected the general’s icy gaze. The woman looked back at her with a mocking half-smile, as if she were nothing more than an ant that could be crushed without a second thought.

So, she had been found out from the start.

Shock, confusion, fear, and despair filled Song Guiya’s eyes, each emotion building with vivid clarity and intensity. It tugged at everyone’s heartstrings without them even realizing it.

After a long moment, Song Guiya closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were perfectly clear.

The performance was over. The director was the first to applaud, his praises spilling out in a torrent.

Though Xi Tongyue had blocked one fleeting expression, the emotional arc and overall feel of the scene had been conveyed flawlessly.

Chen Mobai was already itching to start filming it.

Xi Tongyue pulled herself out of the scene, leaned down to whisper something in Song Guiya’s ear, then rose and returned to her seat.

Whatever she said, it left Song Guiya’s earlobes flushed a deep crimson. When she stood, she couldn’t bring herself to meet Xi Tongyue’s eyes.

The others assumed she was still too immersed and needed time to recover, so they let her be while they discussed the performance among themselves.

No one had expected Song Guiya—with her utterly unimpressive resume—to deliver such a stunning surprise.

The vice director glanced at Zhao Zimu, whose eyes were glazed over, and smiled. “President Zhao, what do you think?”

He had to be dumbfounded.

She wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the test.

Seeing that everyone was set on giving the female lead role to Song Guiya, Zhao Zimu showed no trace of anger. Instead, he gave her a look laced with hidden meaning and smiled amiably. “I was the fool earlier for not seeing it. Miss Song’s performance was brilliant.”

Relieved that he wasn’t going to push further, the vice director exhaled.

“Then…”

“Hold on.”

“Does President Zhao have any other concerns?”

The vice director had thought Zhao Zimu would finally relent in the face of such undeniable talent, but this last-minute snag tested his patience—even if he couldn’t afford to offend the investor.

Zhao Zimu brushed it off casually. “No need to get tense. The audition still has the talent demonstration segment. I hear Miss Song excels at lightness skill. Why not indulge my curiosity with a little display?”

His expression and tone dripped with an arrogance that made everyone itch to punch his smug face. The vice director and the others wore looks of open anger.

What did he think this audition was, some kind of circus?

If Li Xingchen hadn’t deliberately pulled his funding and roped Zhao Zimu into the mix at the last minute, Xi Tongyue could have covered everything herself. Then none of this nonsense would be happening.

The thought filled the producer with regret.

Back then, a few words from Li Xingchen had been enough to rile him up. He’d decided it was too risky to let Xi Tongyue’s side control all the funds—if she pulled out at the last second, the entire production would grind to a halt. Even a single day’s delay would bleed them dry.

But with two investors on board, even if one pulled out, the other could still cover basic filming costs for a while—plenty of time to line up a new backer.

Still, upon reflection, this kind of safety net really depended on the person!

Xi Tongyue might act flamboyantly and without restraint, but she was always upfront about everything, laying her cards on the table and seeing her commitments through to the end.

Zhao Zimu, on the other hand, had forced his people onto the production and seemed eager for some under-the-table favors. He was a demanding sort, and there was always the risk he’d drag the crew’s reputation through the mud.

Sigh. He really had been foolish!

Seeing no one speak up, Zhao Zimu tossed in a casual remark, not too light or too heavy. “You have to make me happy first if you want me to part with my money willingly, right?”

At that moment, Xi Tongyue narrowed her phoenix eyes, a cold, imposing aura gathering between her brows. She didn’t need to raise her voice to command respect, and the air on set grew thick and tense.

Just a second earlier, Zhao Zimu had been smugly posturing when he suddenly felt a chill run through him. Before he could pinpoint the cause, Song Guiya spoke up. “Sure.”

Xi Tongyue turned to look at her, her gaze filled with disapproval.

Song Guiya met her eyes with a reassuring glance, then turned back to Zhao Zimu. “Right here?”

“How’s that supposed to show off Miss Song’s skills?” Zhao Zimu checked his watch and jerked a thumb toward the window. “It’s wrapping up soon anyway. Let’s head outside so Miss Song can really put on a show.”

“Very well.” Song Guiya inclined her head.

Everyone headed downstairs together and arrived at a grassy expanse.

Zhao Zimu shoved one hand in his pocket and scanned the area. Spotting a man-made lake nearby, he grinned. “This spot’s nice and open. Why doesn’t Miss Song try flying from this side to the other?”

The lake wasn’t as vast as a natural one, but it was far from tiny. Crossing it—even on a wire harness—would be a challenge, let alone with some mystical Lightness Skill.

Zhao Zimu had watched the video of Song Guiya’s so-called Lightness Skill. It was impressive, sure, but pulling off a lake crossing? Pure fantasy.

Song Guiya followed him calmly to the water’s edge and turned with an invitation. “Doesn’t President Zhao want to experience it for himself?”

Zhao Zimu halted, ready for a spectacle, and blinked. “Experience what?”

“The sensation of flight,” Song Guiya said earnestly.

Zhao Zimu eyed her suspiciously, saying nothing as he wondered what game she was playing.

“Is President Zhao afraid?” Her voice carried a note of regret—loud enough for everyone present to hear clearly. “That’s understandable. Most people would be. I just didn’t expect President Zhao to feel the same.”

Zhao Zimu’s brows furrowed, some nerve clearly stung. “Who said I’m afraid?”

He knew she was baiting him, but he figured she was doing it now to give him an out. If he refused the “experience,” it would prove the Lightness Skill couldn’t make the crossing. Then she could bow out gracefully using his words, and he’d have no grounds to push further.

Like hell he’d let her get away with that.

Seeing through her ploy, Zhao Zimu flashed a roguish smile. “So how exactly does Miss Song plan to let me experience it?”

What, was she going to carry him straight into the drink?

Absurd.

In front of all these witnesses, no way she’d dare dunk the investor.

Song Guiya’s lips curved in a smile that never reached her eyes. With that, she grabbed the back of his collar in one hand and leaped. The two soared toward the lake’s center before the stunned gazes of the crowd, Zhao Zimu’s panicked screams of “Aaaahhhh!” echoing behind them.

Less than ten seconds later, Song Guiya and Zhao Zimu touched down safely on the far shore. At the same moment, two uniformed security guards on patrol came hurrying toward them.

Fearing a misunderstanding, the group rushed over to the opposite bank, explained the situation, and sent the guards on their way.

Zhao Zimu had been terrified out of his wits. His legs wobbled like wet noodles doing a jig, his pupils shrunken to pinpricks, his face a mask of horror. He stared at Song Guiya in utter disbelief.

The Vice Director asked with genuine concern, “President Zhao, are you all right?”

Zhao Zimu stayed silent for a long stretch.

For an instant, he’d been convinced Song Guiya was out to get him.

But when he met those clear, unclouded eyes—brimming with absolute sincerity—doubt crept into his suspicions. He found himself studying her a little longer.

Eyes like that were a rarity in the industry.

Zhao Zimu suppressed the discomfort wracking his body and said with lingering fear, “It’s nothing. Miss Song is exceptionally talented—she’s more than capable of handling the female lead in Carving Jade.”

Only upon hearing those words did everyone finally breathe a sigh of relief, their admiration for Song Guiya turning to complete conviction.

They had been navigating the cutthroat world of showbiz for years, yet this was the first time they’d seen an actor not only weather an investor’s deliberate sabotage but actually leave the meddler red-faced and humiliated.

It was downright satisfying.

Song Guiya offered a calm word of thanks, then casually glanced at Xi Tongyue.

Xi Tongyue caught the sly flicker in her eyes and couldn’t stifle a laugh.

She’d almost forgotten: the woman before her might be all soft compliance in her presence, but she knew how to bare her teeth and bite when facing enemies.