Zhu Lexing: “……”
Yan Mian suddenly spoke up, catching even Qiao Qiao by surprise.
Under Zhu Lexing’s stiff gaze, Qiao Qiao arched an eyebrow and said, “Nothing much. I was just wondering—how long have you known Zhu Lexing?”
Yan Mian: “……A few months, that’s all.”
Qiao Qiao’s question was innocuous enough that Zhu Lexing had just started to relax when the other girl added, as if offhand, “Oh? Really? You two seem pretty close.”
“Just classmates,” Zhu Lexing cut in, to spare Yan Mian any awkwardness. “What’s there to be close about? Are you on bad terms with your classmates or something?”
Qiao Qiao: “Yeah, pretty much.”
Zhu Lexing: “……”
Zhu Lexing decided the conversation was going nowhere fast.
Back in the rehearsal room, Xu He was rubbing her ears and grumbling, “What was up with that bell today? So damn loud—it scared the hell out of me.”
Song Yingying patted her shoulder consolingly. “Probably some newbie who doesn’t know the drill.”
Xu He: “If you can’t handle it, just don’t bother—Zhu Lexing! Why are you only getting back now? What’s this ‘one-third wicked charm smile’ crap in the script?!”
Her voice pitched up sharply the moment she spotted Zhu Lexing, grating like nails on a chalkboard.
Yan Mian glanced up to see Zhu Lexing raising a hand in a hush gesture toward Xu He.
Xu He, oblivious, repeated herself. Zhu Lexing could only heave a long sigh and step closer to explain.
Yan Mian turned to Li Nian. “How long was Zhu Lexing gone?”
Li Nian: “She left right after Qiao Qiao did. Did she come to hassle you?”
That off-the-cuff “only getting back now” was enough for Yan Mian to piece together that Zhu Lexing must have been waiting out there for ages.
She fell silent for several seconds before murmuring, “I see.”
The second period was devoted to running lines. Midway through, Xu He’s milk tea order arrived—one cup for everyone. Most of the group knew her well and thanked her with easy grins.
The cup passed to Yan Mian was full ice, full sugar.
Yan Mian rarely touched iced, sugary drinks for the sake of her health.
Still, it was a kind gesture from Xu He. Awkward or not, she figured she’d pass it off to Li Nian on the way out and politely decline next time.
The end-of-class bell rang once more, back to its normal volume.
Yan Mian was packing up her things to leave with Li Nian when hurried footsteps echoed from the hall, followed by an exasperated voice: “Why? Why? Why! So many issues—how am I supposed to fix them all by myself?”
Another group had arrived for their rehearsal slot, already bickering over problems.
Li Nian, a hopeless gossip, bolted for the scene, dragging Yan Mian along for the ride. In the chaos, the milk tea got left behind by the makeup mirror. By the time they circled back for it, the iced fruit tea had been swapped out for a sealed cup of warm milk tea.
A scrap of paper bore messy scrawl: 【I like ’em sweet. Swapped with you—sorry!】
Twenty yuan was tucked underneath.
Whoever had done the switch must have figured it was rude to just snatch it outright, so they’d left payment for a cup.
Suspicion was Yan Mian’s default mode, but she didn’t know enough people here to guess who’d be so considerate.
Li Nian drew a blank too and could only console her: “Must be Mercury Direct—you’re on a money streak. Don’t sweat it. Next time, just grab one for her too and leave it there—”
Yan Mian supposed she’d have to roll with that.
In the classroom, Zhu Lexing clamped down on her straw. The first sip hit so sweet it made her scalp tingle, like the flavor was blasting straight to the top of her skull.
As a professional in the industry, Zhu Lexing maintained a strict diet for her figure and never touched stuff like this.
Not touching it didn’t mean she couldn’t stomach it, though.
Yan Mian was a different story—fragile health aside, she plain didn’t like the stuff.
The onus fell squarely on Zhu Lexing’s shoulders.
Before Yan Mian got back, she’d even peeled the label off the cup.
She nursed the fruit tea for ages before draining it. For efficiency’s sake, she’d copied a handful of solved problems from Song Yingying. On the ride home, she knocked out the multiple-choice section, her pen flying across the page.
To the driver, it looked like Zhu Lexing hard at work.
The System saw things differently: 【Ten questions. One correct.】
Zhu Lexing: “……”
These past few days had been all scripts and no real classes; she wasn’t shocked her grades hadn’t budged.
But one out of ten? That felt downright brutal for your average, underpowered high school girl.
System: 【One right is pretty damn good.】
Considering she’d scored zero just days ago.
She stewed on it, the irritation building.
Zhu Lexing shot back indignantly: 【How can you be like this? You make me do problems with zero hints, then rub the wrongs in my face.】
System: 【This is the Host’s personal—】
Zhu Lexing: 【Don’t care! System accountability! Teach me how to solve them, or I quit cold turkey—】
It was just a Hail Mary, no real expectation it’d stick. But after a brief pause, the System actually started piping in online tutorial clips on problem-solving strategies.
Zhu Lexing pressed her palms together. “Listen to Me Say Thank You…”
The driver glanced over on reflex. “Lexing? You okay? Voice sounds off—are you coming down with something?”
Zhu Lexing knew her pitch was atrocious, like a monk droning sutras. She hadn’t realized it was quite this rough, and the reality stung. “…Something I picked up today. Just messing around singing. I’m fine.”
Reassured, the driver added before she hopped out, “Mr. Zhu’s flight lands tomorrow afternoon. Dinner’s booked for that restaurant you liked last time—”
News of Zhu Lin’s return hit like a thunderbolt.
It felt worlds apart from a voice on the phone versus facing him in the flesh.
Zhu Lexing started out jittery, prodding the System for reassurance. It replied: 【Zhu Lin and Zhu Lexing aren’t close. He has no clue how to handle you.】
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have routed the message through the driver like this.
In the original work, Zhu Lin and the original host barely spoke more than a few times a year. There was some father-daughter affection there, sure—but not much.
Zhu Lexing felt a wave of relief wash over her. As long as she didn’t stray too far from the original host’s persona as a “bad-tempered young miss,” anything went.
Comforted, she turned her attention to studying her lines.
Tomorrow marked the first official rehearsal for 《Snow White》, with some off-duty teachers coming to watch as the inaugural audience.
Performing on stage held no embarrassment for Zhu Lexing.
Yet the thought of sharing it with Yan Mian filled her with an inexplicable awkwardness. She almost wished her character wasn’t just taciturn but outright mute—no lines at all.
After lying on her bed like a corpse for a while, Zhu Lexing received a friend request. The profile picture showed a hand snapping a photo in the sunlight, flashing a peace sign, with the note 【Qiao Qiao】.
She’d barely approved it when Qiao Qiao messaged: 【?? What is this?】
She followed up with a photo of the script, which read: 【The Queen stands before the mirror, stroking her silky long hair, and sighs: For sponsorship inquiries, contact xxxxx… Magic Mirror, oh Magic Mirror, tell me who is the fairest one of all?
Magic Mirror: The Queen’s beauty is one that only East Asians can truly appreciate. It is… But in this world, there is one fairer than you.】
When Zhu Lexing had written that Magic Mirror praise for the Queen, her mind had overflowed with the over-the-top fan gushing from her previous life. It fit perfectly, so she’d dashed it off casually—and even cited the source.
Her offhand lines hit Qiao Qiao like a thunderbolt.
Even with the citation, a full web search turned up nothing. Original or not, it didn’t matter.
Qiao Qiao had expected praise from Zhu Lexing, but not flattery this masterful.
Her brain itched. Love-struck fool mode incoming.
【Just word-padding. Don’t you fluff up your essays?】
After firing that off, Zhu Lexing remembered Qiao Qiao’s earlier question and hammered out: 【Besides, these are the lines we locked in today. Rehearsal’s tomorrow, and you’re only seeing them now?】
Qiao Qiao: 【……】
Those six dots made Zhu Lexing feel like she’d gotten one over on her. Satisfaction bloomed.
She rolled over—and there was Qiao Qiao again: 【So, you and Yan Mian a thing?】
“Thwack—” The phone smacked her right in the face.
Zhu Lexing: “……”
The next day.
Zhu Lexing arrived at school still absently rubbing her cheek, the phantom sting lingering.
Qiao Qiao strolled into the dressing room. “Reducing swelling isn’t rubbing your face—it’s slapping it—”
“Mind your own business,” Zhu Lexing shot back.
“Feisty temper you’ve got there.”
Their banter crackled with tension, but the vibe stayed light and easy—downright harmonious.
Qiao Qiao plopped down beside her, pondered for a few seconds, then opened her mouth. Zhu Lexing cut her off: “She and I have nothing going on. Drop it!”
“…Who said I was gonna ask about that?” Last night, after a barrage of one-minute voice rants from Zhu Lexing, Qiao Qiao had wisely backed off. “I meant, how’d you come up with those killer flattery lines?”
Zhu Lexing shrugged. “Off the top of my head?”
Qiao Qiao leaned in, intrigued. “Oh? Like how?”
Zhu Lexing paused mid-breath. “You’re hitting me up for advice without so much as a thanks?”
Qiao Qiao grinned. “You haven’t spilled yet. I haven’t learned squat. Saying thanks upfront would just screw me over.”
For all her talk, Zhu Lexing still rattled off a few examples of that “unhinged lit” she’d seen before. Qiao Qiao’s face cycled through shock, dawning realization, and deep thought.
By the end, she sat back calm and collected, brimming with confidence. “Nailed it. Thanks.”
“Planning a confession?” Zhu Lexing asked offhand.
Qiao Qiao: “Kinda, not really. You’ll see soon enough.”
Zhu Lexing: “……”
No arguing with a riddle-master.
As the group assembled, Zhu Lexing took charge on stage, directing prop placement.
People trickled into the auditorium. Just before showtime, the other team arrived—with Zhou Yang blending into their ranks, claiming a front-row seat.
Kicked out once, he clearly wasn’t done. Too chicken for a direct confrontation, Zhou Yang hid among the newcomers, hoping to seethe everyone with his sneers from afar.
Plenty in the new group had bought into his pitch: Zhu Lexing and Qiao Qiao’s play was a trainwreck of epic proportions. They’d come to gawk and jeer up close.
Then the curtain dropped. Music swelled.
From Qiao Qiao’s opening line, Zhou Yang’s eye-rolls vanished from everyone’s notice. The crowd hung on every twist of the leads and supports.
Still, the rehearsal hit snag after snag.
Zhu Lexing held her breath the whole time—not for her own part, but fretting over everyone else’s flubs.
The Seven Dwarfs each had their quirks: one loved grub, another snoozing, a third fishing. But the sleepyhead actually dozed off for real, and the angler couldn’t find his rod. Backstage, Zhu Lexing nearly cracked up in frustration.
The one silver lining? Yan Mian’s performance was flawless. Draped in that heavy pure-white gauze gown, her hair simply tied back, she glowed under the lights—delicate, utterly captivating.
Qiao Qiao sighed. “She’s seriously stunning.”
A gorgeous female protagonist like that? She deserved the world—worshipped on high, life a bed of roses!
Zhu Lexing beamed with shared pride.
“No wonder you like her—” Qiao Qiao started.
Zhu Lexing clammed up.
She ignored her.
Curtain call done, they swapped spots with the other team. Time to play audience.
Qiao Qiao clocked Zhou Yang in the throng and waved. “Yo, long time no see. Here to pick up some new vocab and strut your stuff?”
Zhou Yang choked. The rest, clueless on their beef, chimed in: “You killed it—”
“Ditch the dancing. Hit the entertainment industry—you’d smoke a hundred boy idols easy.”
“Autograph me first! If you blow up, I hawk ’em—eighty-twenty split!”
Qiao Qiao fielded it all breezily while Zhu Lexing settled beside Song Yingying. The girl’s cheeks flushed pink with excitement. “You were amazing!”
Zhu Lexing swelled with pride.
Acting? She was a pro.
But Zhu Lexing still remembered to be humble. With a delighted smile, she said to the people around her, “Everyone was amazing! What do you want to eat tonight? It’s on me—”
At the same time, Yan Mian had already changed back into her casual clothes and was walking over alongside Li Nian.
Hearing this, Yan Mian paused. “Lexing, tonight—”
Zhu Lin was coming back.
With two “daughters,” she naturally had to notify both of them.
Yan Mian had assumed Zhu Lexing had forgotten, so she spoke without thinking.
She was used to calling her “Lexing” in front of Zhu Lin just to keep up appearances. But the moment the name left her lips, Yan Mian realized her mistake and bit her lower lip.
The group sitting in the middle row immediately burst into cheers. “Wow—”
“Lexing, tonight? What’s going on tonight? Got a date?”
“You two are such a couple, on stage and off! Lexing?”
Qiao Qiao arrived fashionably late, but her teasing came right on cue without missing a beat. “Zhu Lexing? Cat got your tongue? Feeling shy?”
Zhu Lexing had never imagined Yan Mian would call her that in front of outsiders. Her ears flushed crimson beneath her hair. “What nonsense are you spouting? Why would I be shy? It wasn’t even me who said it—”
The moment the words left her mouth, she realized she’d slipped up and was about to backpedal when Qiao Qiao pounced. “Yan Mian? Why’d you call her over like that?”
“You call her Lexing—what’s she supposed to call you?”
~~~
