Chapter 20: ◎So Soft.◎ Part 2

Having committed the script to memory, she delivered it virtually extempore. Ignoring the crowd’s stares throughout, she focused with the intensity of an exam-taker in the room.

Only at the end, with a slight bow amid thunderous applause from below, did Yan Mian dazedly refocus. Down in the audience, Zhu Lin clapped with unrestrained glee, while Jiang Yue beside him wore a faint smile, her eyes brimming with encouragement.

After them, quite a few people were still holding their phones, snapping photos and videos.

Yan Mian paused for a moment, then flashed a slight smile at the nearest camera.

With her speech concluded, half the burden on her heart lifted. As she turned to step off the stage, an extremely faint light from below drew her attention.

She glanced sideways. It was a dark patch where no light reached, the curtain casting vague shadows that seemed to conceal something. But when she looked more closely, it felt like nothing more than an illusion.

Zhu Lexing never would have imagined that the original host’s phone camera came with a built-in flash.

By the time she realized it was leaking a faint glow and hurriedly covered the lens, Yan Mian had already noticed their direction. Fortunately, her reaction had been swift, so Yan Mian showed no excessive curiosity and simply descended from the stage.

On the way back to the dressing room, the more Zhu Lexing thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. She asked the system: 【Why didn’t you warn me about something this minor? Getting picked by you as a host is bad luck enough already. If you won’t even optimize my transmigration experience, I’ll keep teetering on the brink of social suicide every day. If I actually die for real, where will you find another host as hardworking and complaint-free as me?】

The system was unusually at a loss for words.

After venting her frustration, Zhu Lexing didn’t hold out hope for any improvement on its part. She pushed open the door to the dressing room, only to find it completely empty. She drew her sword and scanned the room in bewilderment, pondering where Qiao Qiao and the others might have gone, when Yan Mian emerged from the changing area—already dressed in her costume.

The girl’s hair swayed lightly with her movements. Under the lights, her bright eyes and pearly teeth gleamed even more strikingly, her red lips a vivid crimson.

Zhu Lexing stared, momentarily stunned.

Yan Mian resisted the urge to purse her lips, mindful of her lipstick, and took the initiative to break the silence. “Were you… outside just now?”

Zhu Lexing snapped back to reality, her mind racing. Not bad for 20 favorability! Yan Mian wasn’t shying away from her like before—instead, she was the one starting the conversation.

It was downright heartwarming!

But that face was just too beautiful. Zhu Lexing averted her gaze and mumbled, “Just stepping out for some air. What, I can’t?”

“…No, of course you can,” Yan Mian replied hastily.

Yan Mian started toward the door, but Zhu Lexing was blocking it, forcing her to sit down nearby instead.

It was a public space, after all… Even if they were the only two in the dressing room, Zhu Lexing wouldn’t try anything.

“Where’d everyone else go?” Zhu Lexing finally asked after a long pause.

Yan Mian shook her head. “No idea.”

Being alone with Yan Mian always left Zhu Lexing feeling awkwardly tongue-tied. At this stage in their relationship, anything she said risked sounding strange.

It took her a while before she managed a casual tone. “The school anniversary’s being live-streamed in full. I popped into the live stream room on a whim and saw a bunch of people saying… you’re really pretty.”

Her voice grew quieter and more embarrassed the further she went.

Yan Mian only caught about half of it and frowned. “…Saying what?”

That she was… ugly? Or that she’d made a fool of herself?

Zhu Lexing met her eyes and murmured, “That you’re really pretty.”

The girl before the mirror blinked slowly, her clear eyes brimming with innocent bewilderment—like a lost little fawn.

So adorable.

That was Zhu Lexing’s inner thought, but she worried Yan Mian might peg her as some sleazy scum A, so she hurriedly added, “That’s just what the netizens are saying. Nothing to do with me.”

Yan Mian: “…Mm-hmm.”

“…A bunch of them were asking for your Star Net handle too.” Zhu Lexing stole a glance at her. Seeing Yan Mian’s expression remain calm and unsurprised, she let out a quiet breath of relief. “They seem to like you quite a bit. If you’re interested, you could make an account and chat with them.”

It took Yan Mian a moment to register that this was a suggestion.

A suggestion… from Zhu Lexing.

Remembering what Zhu Lexing had said in the car last time, Yan Mian realized this might be a variation on urging her to go independent.

Build up a fanbase, nurture it steadily, and eventually, she wouldn’t need to rely on the Zhu Family’s resources.

Her past experiences had taught Yan Mian to always brace for the worst.

But this time, even the worst version of Zhu Lexing’s advice wasn’t so terrible.

On the contrary, it served as a reminder.

If…

If her mother truly wanted her to enter the entertainment industry…

Then why not seize this opportunity and make it on her own merits?

Yan Mian didn’t dwell on it long. “I understand. Thank you.”

The more polite Yan Mian became, the guiltier Zhu Lexing felt. She was fumbling for an excuse to slip away when footsteps echoed down the corridor. Xu He poked her head in. “Yan Mian! You’re up—come on, let’s go!”

Zhu Lexing’s role as the neighboring kingdom princess didn’t appear until much later, so Xu He ignored her entirely and grabbed Yan Mian’s hand to drag her off.

Watching their cozy retreating figures, Zhu Lexing felt a sour twinge in her chest but kept up her cool facade as she called after them, “Don’t blow your performance.”

This time, Zhu Lexing had every reason to stand on the side stage beside the main one—an area hidden from the audience, reserved for actors to wait and change costumes.

The curtain dropped. The host’s voice rang out, sweet and melodic, as she announced: “Next up is the stage play 《Snow White》, performed by the sophomore Must Win Zhou Yang Team.”

The audience of students went blank for a split second at the team name before cheers and whoops exploded in waves.

As the curtain rose amid the uproar, the first scene featured Qiao Qiao facing off against the Magic Mirror.

Qiao Qiao couldn’t wrap her head around it—why would a queen go to such murderous lengths over mere jealousy of her stepdaughter’s beauty?

By the same token, why was a kingdom princess—so obviously royalty—utterly helpless, surviving only on the pity of others?

Lack of self-defense skills was one thing, but why no impulse to fight back at all? Just endless fleeing.

Cowardice! Utter cowardice!

After her vehement insistence, blended with the rest of the team’s ideas, Zhu Lexing had thrown in elements from every web novel genre she’d ever read.

The result, presented to the audience, was a full-blown tale of European-style vengeance.

The Queen was the only daughter of a remote border town’s prominent family, yet that family had been utterly destroyed because of a single offhand remark from the King. She regarded him as her mortal enemy for it, biding her time for years. She married into the royal family and secretly built up her own power until it was finally strong enough for her to seize control for herself—

And plunged a knife into the King.

Qiao Qiao yanked out the dagger. The actor playing the King, clutched at his chest and staggered back several steps before letting out an exaggerated “Ah—!” and collapsing to the floor.

Beneath the stark, chilly lighting, Qiao Qiao was dressed in opulent finery with her hair pinned up in an elegant coil, her expression icy and remote. She stood at the edge where light met shadow, the brightly lit half of her face smeared with stage blood from the prop.

She had been holding her breath the whole time, but the King’s lines had nearly made her crack and ruin her expression.

“…Magic Mirror, oh Magic Mirror.” Qiao Qiao bit her tongue to stifle a laugh, idly twirling the bloodied dagger in her hand as she turned toward Song Yingying, who was playing the Magic Mirror not far away. “Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?”

Song Yingying replied, “Your Majesty’s beauty is renowned far and wide, but I have seen a young maiden who is the fairest of them all—Snow White.”

Snow White was the daughter of the King and his previous Queen. She was strikingly beautiful, with hair like polished sandalwood and skin as fair and smooth as a peeled egg.

At the thought of that girl, Qiao Qiao let out a cold sneer. She tossed the dagger down beside the sprawled form of the King and summoned her most trusted aide, the Hunter.

“Kill her.”

With that, the first act drew to a close.

As stagehands hurriedly cleared the props amid the chaos onstage, the audience below and the viewers in the live stream room reacted with muted indifference. Revenge dramas like this one were a dime a dozen these days. Apart from lacking the second-gender elements and boasting some exceptionally attractive actors, this production of Snow White was no different from all the rest.

In the live stream room, Qiao Qiao’s fans had flooded the barrage comments with screams and praise the moment she appeared on camera. But now that she had left the stage and the initial excitement had worn off, the fans inevitably drifted back to their earlier chatter.

– So, has anyone found Yan Mian’s Star Net? She’s seriously gorgeous.

– My focus is more on whether anyone’s got a screen recording. I was too hyped up earlier and forgot.

– I recorded it! I’ll upload to Z Station later—go search for it yourselves.

– Good person goes a long way! But… when did the live stream get this many viewers??? Five hundred??

– Looks like someone bought a promo slot for the stream. Who was it? So generous!

Before Qiao Qiao could reach her, Zhu Lexing quickly closed the payment interface and modestly kept her good deed to herself.

Still riding high on the thrill, Qiao Qiao hadn’t noticed the swift motion. She grinned at Zhu Lexing. “Acting’s pretty fun, huh? You gonna direct again? Sign me as the female lead next time.”

Zhu Lexing thought she was getting ahead of herself.

Qiao Qiao’s stage presence had been impressive, though—chillingly ruthless to the core. Not wanting to pick a fight, Zhu Lexing brushed her off. “Sure, sure. Next time for definite.”

Qiao Qiao picked up on the evasion, but Zhu Lexing’s attention was fixed entirely on the stage. Her eyes lit up. “Here she comes.”

Qiao Qiao glanced over. Yan Mian had already taken the stage on the side platform opposite them.

The girl wore a jeweled crown atop her head, her long skirts swaying gracefully. The moment she appeared in frame, the live stream chat exploded.

– Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap! Mianmian!!! Take me with you!!!

– I was just wondering who could live up to that shamelessly perfect description… Turns out someone actually can.

– Just tuned in—who’s this actress? She’s stunning.

– Real talk: Does a school anniversary stage play really need to go this hard? Qiao Qiao as supporting, some random beauty as the lead? This is wild!

– Y’all hyping too much? She’s just average at best. And she hasn’t even acted yet—what are you freaking out about? She might butcher her lines.

But those sour comments crumbled the instant Yan Mian spoke.

Her voice was soft and gentle, yet her lines were delivered with crisp precision and commanding power.

Every word carried emotion; every gesture and glance brimmed with the character’s fire.

She was a natural-born performer.

For Snow White’s character arc, Zhu Lexing had boldly rewritten her as a girl who had trained under a swordmaster from childhood, granting her exceptional sword skills, a sharp mind, and a decisive nature.