Angie hadn’t initially considered herself so fragile that a single session of media interviews would warrant returning to rest. Having experienced it so many times before, the routine discomfort usually faded just like always; yet, seeing the deep concern brimming in Yunjun Ye’s sparkling eyes resembling the scholar’s intense anxiety and heartache whenever the female lead encountered the slightest mishap in the script her heart suddenly softened.
That long-standing habit of bracing herself to be strong unexpectedly melted away, overtaken by the quiet, creeping warmth of being cared for and cherished. A sour sting bloomed in the bridge of her nose as she experienced a sense of unprecedented peace found in the company of someone so young.
“Alright! I’ll go ask the director for some time off in a moment,” Angie said, offering Yunjun Ye a gentle, fragile smile. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Do you want me to keep you company?”
“No need. If both of us ask for leave, Director Yin will probably explode.”
“But all the remaining scenes today are our dialogue scenes,” Yunjun Ye pointed out after pulling out the call sheet and inspecting it closely.
“I’m truly fine. I can manage on my own,” Angie insisted, genuinely reluctant to delay the crew’s shooting schedule on her account.
“I’ll go talk to Director Yin.” The moment the words left her mouth, Yunjun Ye bolted out the door.
Watching Yunjun Ye hurry away, Angie’s composed facade instantly crumbled.
Ever since she had been dragged out by the publicity team for interviews, her heart had remained suspended in her chest. No matter the setting, reporters’ questions had never once been entirely friendly from start to finish.
There had been a time when she could face the media and converse with effortless poise and laughter.
That was before she married her current husband, Mai Jianhua.
Back when Angie and her ex-husband had not yet divorced, though they weren’t particularly deeply in love, their relationship hadn’t deteriorated to the point where divorce was an absolute necessity especially since they shared a young son. For the sake of the child, Angie had been fully prepared to endure and keep the family together.
Then she and Mai Jianhua collaborated on a television series as the male and female leads. Believing that filming and promotions would mark the end of their professional intersection before moving on to the next project, she was caught completely off guard during a promotional press conference. When asked about his impressions of his co-star, Mai Jianhua dropped a bombshell by publicly declaring that he had fallen in love with Angie through the production.
From that moment on, Angie’s first marriage plunged into a severe crisis. Her ex-husband, inherently suspicious by nature, had never truly believed that the entertainment industry could be a pristine place.
Consequently, negative headlines emerged one after another in a relentless stream. Seizing the opening, Mai Jianhua frequently lingered around Angie, offering meticulous warmth and solicitude everywhere she turned, playing the part of the consummate, attentive gentleman.
Things culminated during an event where both were present, when Mai Jianhua high-profile announced his love for Angie and his profound respect for every aspect of her life.
Intrigued, sensationalist gossip reporters unleashed their full storytelling faculties, embellishing and blowing incidents out of proportion to fan the flames to the utmost. Riding the wave of high popularity surrounding several of Angie’s hit projects, they fabricated seemingly plausible details about her private life out of thin air.
From that day forward, Angie never managed to escape the reporters’ prying gossip. Even after marrying Mai Jianhua, the questioning never ceased. While Mai Jianhua stood by her side seemingly fearless as reporters pressed forward, holding microphones with an ostensibly thoughtful demeanor, whenever things grew too intense, he would simply flash a bright smile and say, “Everything is subject to my wife’s wishes; my wife comes first.”
And today, Yunjun Ye had casually lobbed out the topic of a “same-sex scandal.” Angie pressed a hand to her forehead what a foolish child!
She knew the girl was merely trying to deflect and rescue her from an awkward spot, but pulling such fire onto her own head was hardly a wise move.
What would the media say about Yunjun Ye? And how would they spin stories about herself?
Massaging her aching temples, she thought to herself, Forget it, no use dwelling on it. I’ll just go back, sleep it off, and deal with whatever comes later by remaining calm. After all, after enduring so many years of entertainment reporting without finding any real defense against it, paying it no mind was the only viable recourse left.
“The director said we can both take time off,” Yunjun Ye announced, rushing back in after successfully securing the leave. “Pack up your things, let’s head back.”
“Is there really no negative impact?” Angie asked, finding it hard to believe.
“Director Yin said it’s fine. Our daily progress has been so fast that a day or half isn’t going to make a difference,” Yunjun Ye replied earnestly.
“Alright then,” Angie conceded, choosing not to bicker further over the decision.
“Would you like to go out for a stroll?” Yunjun Ye suddenly suggested on an impulse, hoping Angie might agree to step out and clear her mind.
“I think not. If we happen to be photographed, it’ll only lead to unnecessary trouble,” Angie rejected the proposal.
“Okay!”
The entire drive back passed in silence. Frowning, Yunjun Ye cast anxious, worried glances toward Angie, who sat quietly with her head lowered in deep thought. Though Angie was never one for excessive chatter, she had never appeared this profoundly subdued before.
Watching Angie trudge listlessly into her own room to rest, Yunjun Ye felt as though she had been infected by a strange poison her heart felt utterly hollow, and she found an urgent, desperate need to witness Angie safe, sound, and undisturbed before she could settle her own mind.
The sudden absence of this attentive friend who usually shared every waking moment left her feeling completely disoriented, as if every aspect of her surroundings had turned askew.
Returning to her own room to drop off her belongings, she marched across the hall and knocked firmly on Angie’s door.
After a lengthy wait, Angie finally opened the door, one hand still holding a telephone receiver. Seeing Yunjun Ye standing outside, Angie paused for a fraction of a second before her lips curved into a faint, forced smile. Raising the hand holding the phone slightly, she stepped sideways to clear the entryway.
Yunjun Ye stepped inside behind her, yet instantly grew at a loss for what to do. Settling awkwardly onto the sofa, she watched as Angie continued her phone conversation standing by the window.
Though Angie’s expression carried a rare, chilling aloofness, her tone remained soft and gentle, evidently discussing domestic matters back home.
A sudden realization struck Yunjun Ye like a bolt from the blue: the person on the other end of the line was likely Angie’s husband. What on earth am I doing here?
They were no longer the scholar and his wife from inside the world of the script.
She was Angie an actress, a married woman with a husband and a child.
Family worries were naturally matters for her beloved partner to concern themselves with. For herself to be so completely consumed with worry and tied up in knots over another woman hadn’t that crossed far beyond the boundaries of mere friendship?
An inexplicable panic surged straight from the depths of her chest. I’ve gotten way too deep into character.
Similar things had happened before; once a shoot wrapped, she would briefly feel as though her co-star remained the romantic partner to whom she had poured out her emotions. But where were they in the timeline now? They had barely even started!
Was it simply because they spent every waking hour glued to each other’s sides that she had fallen prey to such an authentic illusion?
In a daze as she gazed at Angie, Yunjun Ye felt as though she were sitting on a bed of needles.
Seized by an abrupt jolt of alarm, she sprang to her feet and fled headlong out the door, leaving behind a bewildered, utterly mystified expression on Angie’s face.
Once inside her own room, she slammed the door shut, pressed her back against the wooden panels, and drew in ragged, gasping breaths.
Fumbling frantically in her pocket, she retrieved her phone and located Guo Nianhong’s contact name. The sight momentarily steadied her chaotic heartbeat.
Without a second thought, she dialed the number, letting it ring continuously until the call dropped automatically without an answer.
The room was deathly quiet so quiet that Yunjun Ye could distinctly hear the pounding of her own frantic heartbeat and her disordered respiration.
Her mind flashed back to the bridal chamber sequence: how she had loosely encircled Angie in her arms, the synchronized drumming of their heartbeats, and their ragged, out-of-rhythm breaths of tension how terrifyingly similar it felt to this exact moment.
An all-encompassing, suffocating panic closed in around her from every direction. Never before had she experienced moments of silence feeling so suffocatingly airless.
She couldn’t stay here a moment longer.
Pulling herself together, Yunjun Ye grabbed her backpack, donned a protective face mask and a baseball cap, cast a single lingering glance toward the locked door across the hall, and quietly slipped out of the hotel.