Chapter 11: Play Within a Play (3)

Upon arriving at the filming location, Lu Zhiyu spotted Du Yueze and Gu Yinsu from afar, sitting side by side on two folding lounge chairs. They leaned slightly toward each other, maintaining a polite distance as they exchanged smiles and conversed in low voices. Bodyguards stood rigidly around them, unmoving.

Lu Yuan hesitated in place for a moment before nudging Lu Zhiyu with her elbow. “Sis, President Gu is over there too. Should we go say hello?”

Lu Zhiyu pondered for a few seconds. “No need to rush. President Gu has a bad impression of me, and she’s deep in conversation with Du Yueze. Butting in abruptly would backfire. Later, when I’m shooting, go thank her on my behalf. Express gratitude for her support in getting me this great script and role. Don’t say anything else—be as respectful as possible.”

She then slipped a pack of pocket tissues into Lu Yuan’s hand. “Give this pack of tissues to Gu Yinsu. If she asks, say it’s what I owed her, and I’m returning it. I’ll settle everything else with her one by one.”

“Sis, just this…? Will President Gu even accept it?”

Lu Yuan took the tissues in bewilderment and looked at Lu Zhiyu in confusion, only to find that the person beside her had already walked away.

Lu Zhiyu entered the filming area, where a staff member kindly held her script for her.

She straightened her appearance, then bent down to pick up the folded prop oil-paper umbrella from the side. She opened and quickly closed it to check that the prop wasn’t damaged, then quietly stood holding the closed umbrella, waiting for her scene.

Lu Yuan clutched the pocket tissues with a conflicted expression and couldn’t resist sniffing them. The tissues had a nice fragrance, reminiscent of Chanel No. 7, but pocket tissues… no matter how expensive, they weren’t worth much. Giving them to President Gu seemed too shabby.

She glanced nervously at Lu Zhiyu, who was watching from the side, bit her lip, and steeled herself. It was her artist’s decision, and she couldn’t interfere. If the proud President Gu berated or humiliated her, she’d just have to take it.

With that thought, a practiced, shallow smile of flattery appeared on Lu Yuan’s youthful face as she approached Gu Yinsu, who was chatting animatedly with Du Yueze.

Noticing that the two showed no sign of ending their conversation, Lu Yuan popped a mint candy into her mouth to steady her slightly anxious mood. She sat bored on a stool, legs crossed, her gaze shifting from Lu Zhiyu to the two intimidating figures, waiting for their talk to conclude.

At that moment, the set was filming a scene where, amid the chaos in the Great Liang Dynasty, the End Dynasty’s Second Princess Duan Shu—held as a hostage in Liang for years and played by Bai Xirou—endured countless hardships to return to the End Dynasty’s capital, Le Du, and arrived at Qiong Garden, her childhood residence.

Lu Zhiyu’s character, Eldest Princess Duan Hua of the End Dynasty, appeared in the scene shortly after.

A thin mist veiled the slanted moon, its cold light trickling down the deep palace corridors amid a patter of fine rain.

Hurried footsteps echoed on the stone bricks, growing lighter as they approached. Startled birds perched on the frost-white pear blossom branches fluttered away in a flurry.

The wind swayed the octagonal palace lanterns hanging from the eaves. Gradually, two travel-worn figures appeared at the vermilion copper gates of Qiong Garden.

After five long years as a hostage in the Great Liang Dynasty, far from her homeland, Duan Shu stood transfixed outside the gates, her heart surging with emotion, lost in a dreamlike daze.

After a while, her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the copper knocker on the red-lacquered door and gently pushed. The doors slowly swung open on both sides. She lifted her tattered skirt hem and stepped over the threshold, followed closely by her maid Ru Yu, who quickly shut the door behind them.

Clusters of pale yellow flowers bloomed profusely in the Qiong Palace gardens, their petals clinging to the damp soil, dotted with dew. The slender stems swayed delicately—precisely the Moon-Seeing Grass she had planted as a child.

“Princess, look—the Moon-Seeing Grass you planted when you were young is blooming.”

Ru Yu squatted down, joyfully and surprisedly gathering the vibrant cluster of tender yellow flowers. She flashed a charming smile toward the camera, carefully plucked a branch, and approached Duan Shu. With her big, sparkling eyes fixed on Duan Shu, she playfully twirled the flower stem and said coquettishly, “The flowers have grown so beautifully. Someone must have been taking care of them.”

Duan Shu’s expression froze for a moment before quickly recovering, as if recalling the past. Her phoenix eyes grew distant, a faint smile curving her lips. “Before I left, my royal sister said she’d take care of these flowers for me. I didn’t expect her to remember after all these years.”

The director didn’t call “CUT” and seemed very satisfied with the actors’ performance in this segment.

Lu Zhiyu watched the on-set performance but frowned slightly. She always prepared thoroughly for her roles, even memorizing her co-stars’ lines. She distinctly remembered that this dialogue about the Moon-Seeing Grass wasn’t in the script.

In the script, the Moon-Seeing Grass was Duan Shu’s recollection, with the camera focused on Bai Xirou. But Qin Yue, playing the maid Ru Yu, had deliberately blocked the shot while moving sideways, forcing Bai Xirou’s positioning farther from the frame. It was clearly scene-stealing and ad-libbing.

Bai Xirou was young and inexperienced, so it was normal for the more seasoned Qin Yue to pull such tricks.

Lu Zhiyu’s eyes flashed. Unfortunately for Qin Yue, her opponent was Lu Zhiyu, and Bai Xirou was her key observation and protection target. Bullying her right under Lu Zhiyu’s nose required her permission first.

It was time for the third act—her entrance.

Under the director’s direction, Lu Zhiyu entered the frame holding a plain oil-paper umbrella. Artificial fine rain pattered crisply on the umbrella surface. She raised her eyes to gaze at the half-built interior set and took a step forward.

When she looked straight ahead again, her mild demeanor vanished abruptly, as if she had become another person.

The beauty in tan robes under the umbrella furrowed her brows in light sorrow, her eyes tinged with weariness. Her slender frame, draped in ornate robes, exuded resilient cold pride and noble isolation.

Her steps seemed unhurried, yet her figure moved with slight urgency along the long palace wall corridor, flashing past. The candle flames in two tall palace lanterns flickered, their curved light trembling uneasily on the palace walls.

Chief Director Chen Wen watched the monitor under the camera and patted Executive Director Meng Heng’s shoulder. “Old Meng, this newbie is pretty good. She got into character so quickly, and it actually looks convincing. See? She seems to have calculated our camera’s path perfectly. The route she took positioned her profile at the strongest angle for lighting, shadows, and visual impact—right on the golden ratio of the frame.”

He joked, “If it weren’t a fluke, I’d suspect this girl who just turned twenty was a veteran actor with ten years under her belt.”

Executive Director Meng Heng nodded from the side. “I was wondering why Film Queen Gu would recommend a vase like Lu Zhiyu—it’d tarnish her own reputation. But now, her acting techniques seem somewhat enlightened. Not as eye-searing as that web drama.”

He chuckled darkly with insinuation. “Maybe the girl has some connection with Film Queen Gu, who gave her private coaching.”

Chen Wen tsked and glanced toward Gu Yinsu and Du Yueze. “You idiot, watch your mouth. How could Du Yueze’s person have anything to do with Film Queen Gu? Even if Gu Yinsu were desperate, she wouldn’t go after someone so troublesome.”

Not far away, Gu Yinsu sipped her black tea, impatiently brushing off Du Yueze’s invitation for a meal the next day. Her gaze caught the round-faced girl glancing their way repeatedly.

The girl seemed to notice Gu Yinsu’s attention, hesitated, then approached.

“President Gu, thanks to your support and care for my artist Lu Zhiyu, she landed a role in General’s Tomb. She asked me to thank you on her behalf. She’s busy shooting right now and didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with President Du, so she couldn’t come herself. My apologies.”

Lu Yuan flashed a fawning smile, bowed tensely and rapidly to Gu Yinsu, avoiding her striking deep blue eyes—now without the gray contacts—and timidly placed the pack of pocket tissues on the folding round table.

“President Gu, my artist said this is for you. She doesn’t want to owe you anything, and she’ll repay everything else in the future.”

Gu Yinsu watched Lu Yuan flee in panic, as if she were a ferocious beast, and amusingly fiddled with her sunglasses. This naive teenage upstart clearly lacked worldly experience. What was such a young girl doing as an actor’s manager in the entertainment industry? Could she handle all sorts of people?

She picked up the limited-edition pocket tissues from the table, recalling that time she was hounded by those pesky S Agency reporters and ran into Lu Zhiyu. The annoying woman had clumsily gotten a nosebleed and handed her tissues from this exact brand.

Gu Yinsu sneered disdainfully, tempted to toss the pack in the trash, but then a spark of interest made her slip it into her handbag instead.

In her eyes, Lu Zhiyu was just an ambitious, loose woman—a dirty public bus anyone could board. Playing at being aloof while repaying her “favors” was suspicious, who knew what ulterior motives she harbored.

Regardless, since the woman wanted to get close—and she was Du Yueze’s bedside companion—she did have some utility.

Gu Yinsu found it odd; she actually cared enough to ponder an insignificant extra’s thoughts. She was bored out of her mind.

Irritably ruffling her slightly long, light golden short hair, she noticed Du Yueze unusually silent, not tossing out topics. Turning, she saw the handsome man’s attention fully captivated by an actress on set.

That actress was none other than Lu Zhiyu, whom Gu Yinsu had just been musing about.

Pear blossoms like frost danced in chaotic shadows, rain fell into the mud, shattered petals fluttered like snow. At the open doors of Qiong Palace, an umbrella-holding woman stepped slowly inside. She gently lowered and closed the umbrella with her slender hand, brushed the dust from her skirt hem, and crossed the threshold.