Hearing those words, Lin Zixi turned her gaze to Ye Can.
She took in the perfectly tailored white shirt and black suit pants hugging Ye Can’s frame, then lifted her eyes to that severe black short haircut sharpening her aura. She reached out, smoothed the collar of Ye Can’s shirt, and smiled.
Lin Zixi eyed Ye Can’s deliberately angular eyebrows, then said, “Not at all. Back in school, I never saw anyone as captivating as you.”
Ye Can arched a brow and huffed smugly.
Lin Zixi beckoned her over. Ye Can leaned in, bringing her ear close to Lin Zixi’s lips to hear her whisper.
Lin Zixi’s lips parted like soft cherry blossom petals, spilling words sweet as honey: “If I’d met you back then, I probably would’ve fallen for you hard.”
If she’d met Ye Can as a teenager, maybe those ten years would’ve been spent rising up and hustling to build her fortune. She’d have become a rich woman ages ago.
After all, someone as dreamlike as this needed to be kept penned up and raised herself for any sense of security.
Ye Can felt oddly awkward for once and just gave a cool “Oh.” She scratched her cheek, mumbling embarrassedly, “Should I go cut my hair then?”
Lin Zixi laughed until her eyes curved, reaching up to ruffle Ye Can’s head. “No way. You look great with long hair right now.”
Especially playing Xiao Shi. She’s just so adorably obedient.
But Ye Can had other ideas. “I think cutting it would be better. This wig is killing me—it’s so uncomfortable, and I’m sweltering.”
She pointed to the sweat beading at her temple. “See? I’m sweating buckets.”
Lin Zixi frowned and sure enough, spotted the sweat trickling from Ye Can’s hairline. Seizing the moment, Ye Can pressed on: “I’m playing dual roles anyway. I can knock out all of Xiao Shi’s solo scenes first, then do the Ghost Prince stuff.”
Lin Zixi raised a hand, her long fingers gently wiping the sweat from Ye Can’s forehead. “Are you really that afraid of the heat?”
Ye Can nodded vigorously. “Totally.”
Lin Zixi smiled and said to her, “Alright then, let’s cut it. After we wrap Xiao Shi’s solo scenes, we’ll chop the hair. Sound good?”
Ye Can nodded like an excited pup with a bone. “Yes! Yes! Perfect!”
Over the next few days, Ye Can toughed it out with that glossy black long hair, filming nearly all of Xiao Shi’s solo scenes.
Xiao Shi’s life was ordinary and mundane—until that boy appeared like a beam of light piercing her dark reality.
After taking the boy’s umbrella, Xiao Shi made her way home under it.
Outside, the sky hung heavy and overcast; inside, the room was dank and dim. She propped the black umbrella by the door and stared at the messy dinner table, feeling the cold autumn rain seep into her very soul.
Life was harsh, especially for a child not yet grown, without a birth mother’s care—it was even tougher.
Dinner was still on Xiao Shi to make. Her father had brought home shrimp, unaware that her half-brother was allergic, landing him in the hospital.
While waiting for the ambulance, the stepmother unleashed a torrent of blame on Xiao Shi—dragging up the past, the house, calling her an ungrateful brat who wasn’t even blood. The words cut deep.
Xiao Shi endured it silently. Finally, the ambulance arrived, whisking her brother away, with her father following to the hospital.
The living room echoed empty. Xiao Shi sat there, gazing at the desolate sky outside, and took a deep breath. She stood, cleared the dishes, then retreated to her room to do homework.
The next morning, the stepmother packed her bags and stormed back to her parents’ house, declaring that if Xiao Shi wouldn’t leave, she would.
That day was actually Xiao Shi’s seventeenth birthday—but it turned out miserable.
Rattled by the morning chaos, Xiao Shi wandered to school in a daze. On the way, the school’s heartthrob—gorgeous as he was—struck up a chat with her, only for the class delinquents who crushed on him to spot it.
That evening, those girls cornered Xiao Shi in the bathroom.
The assaults of youth were always blunt as knives, sharp and unrelenting. They pinned her against the door, hurling the vilest insults. Every “I didn’t” from Xiao Shi rang hollow and powerless.
She clenched her fists, her frail body trembling like a sapling in a gale. Her rage, her unwillingness—they crumbled so easily before life.
The delinquents snatched her bag, dumping her neatly noted books onto the filthy floor. Satisfied, they strutted off.
Xiao Shi, hair disheveled, crouched down and slowly gathered her things.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” A clear teenage boy’s voice rang out. Xiao Shi looked up to see him perched on the bathroom railing, swinging his long legs, leaning forward with hands clasped, staring intently at her on the ground—his eyes sparkling.
Xiao Shi paused but said nothing. As she stuffed the books back into her bag and passed him, she murmured softly, “Thanks for the umbrella yesterday.”
The boy braced one hand on the rail and hopped down, saying to her, “No need to thank me. Xiao Shi wanted to do it herself, right?”
He turned to her with a grin. “Why didn’t you act like you did yesterday?”
“They went too far. Why not fight back?”
He stepped ahead, facing her while walking backward with hands behind his back, chattering on: “Because it’d cause trouble at school? Fighting back would drag in your parents, burden the teachers? Just endure it, and it’ll pass soon, right?”
“These things only need you to tough it out alone, and poof—they’re gone, yeah?”
He’d pierced the secret turmoil deep in the girl’s heart. She halted, her dark eyes locking onto him. The boy grinned sheepishly. “Hey, don’t get mad! Even if I’m right, no need to be upset.”
“You kids like you are so quick to empathize with others.”
The boy trailed Xiao Shi all the way home. At the building entrance, he called out to her: “Happy birthday, Xiao Shi!”
“You’ll get a super awesome gift!”
But this birthday was awful for Xiao Shi. Back home, her father called—he was picking up the stepmother from the hospital and wouldn’t be back for dinner. Hearing that, Xiao Shi eyed the meal she’d prepared, grabbed a lighter, and approached the table.
She flicked off the room lights. With a snap, she lit the lighter. Staring into its ghostly blue flame, Xiao Shi closed her eyes and silently made a wish.
She hoped her eighteenth birthday would come soon, ending this agonizing teenage hell.
But life didn’t spare you just in youth. Adulthood brought torments a thousand times worse.
Life never treated anyone kindly—it toyed with you endlessly.
Xiao Shi’s days dragged on amid these petty harassments. The stepmother never returned, but strange, menacing figures started lurking in the stairwell, asking after her by name.
Soon after, Xiao Shi came home to find the place stripped bare.
Her father’s call was rushed: some family emergency meant they were relocating out of town. Considering her senior year, they’d leave her to fend alone.
Backpack slung over her shoulder, Xiao Shi stared at the barren, cluttered living room and realized it crystal clear: She’d been abandoned.
The call ended. Clutching her phone amid the wreckage, she fought back tears—but they spilled uncontrollably.
As soon as the scene wrapped, Ye Can choked back her tears and scanned for Lin Zixi. Spotting her, Ye Can pulled her into a fierce embrace, clinging tight.
Lin Zixi froze at first, then felt the tears dripping onto her neck. She patted Ye Can’s back softly. “What’s wrong? That rough on you?”
Ye Can said nothing, just held her tighter.
The crew knew Ye Can was only eighteen and figured she’d immersed too deeply to shake it off. Portraying an ordinary, archetypal girl was tougher than a flashy character—subtlety demanded more.
So far, Ye Can had nailed it, thanks mostly to Lin Zixi’s scene breakdowns.
Everyone on set but Lin Zixi herself knew Xiao Shi was Lin Zixi.
Everything Xiao Shi endured in the film had happened to her for real.
Ye Can burned with unwillingness. She clutched Lin Zixi, voice choking: “What kind of rotten fate would toy with you like that?”
Lin Zixi went still, silent. She just hugged back a little harder.
After wrapping the day’s shoots, Ye Can and Lin Zixi rode back to the hotel in Tong Lin’s car. Along the way, Ye Can ranted nonstop: “People bullied you in school like that? Ripping your books? Hitting you? How shameless!”
“If I ever see them, I’ll beat them senseless.”
Lin Zixi eyed her puffed-up outrage, amused and exasperated. “Did you lose yourself in the role completely? Why assume the script’s events happened to me?”
Ye Can huffed: “You wrote the script! Didn’t you say art comes from life? Stuff like this definitely happened!”
She stared intently, dead serious. “Tell me—did things like that ever go down before?”
Lin Zixi paused, then admitted, “Fine, yeah, they did.”
Ye Can gnashed her teeth. “Knew it! Knew it!” Damn, if I’d been there, I’d have flattened them.
Lin Zixi watched her raw emotion, laughing till her eyes teared. She reached up, ruffling Ye Can’s hair. “But I fought back back then.”
Lin Zixi wasn’t one to take it lying down. She went on: “Yeah… I remember throwing punches, then tattling to the teacher.”
She’d been lucky—her high school teachers were solid. And those kids’ backgrounds weren’t big enough to corrupt them. After that, it never happened again.
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