“Sorry. I probably haven’t been sleeping well these past few days, but I’ll push through and get back on track,” Gu Ming said, rubbing her face tiredly.
“Is it because of Gu Yan?” Song Ai asked bluntly.
Gu Ming’s expression shifted slightly. She let out a dry, forced chuckle. “Why does everyone keep saying that? Can’t it just be because the new show format is stressing me out?”
“Is it, though?”
Gu Ming pressed a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t realize we were on a talk show.”
“You can pretend we are. I don’t mind playing the host for a bit.”
Gu Ming didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Give me a break, please.”
Seeing that Gu Ming clearly wanted to drop the subject, silence fell between them. Song Ai waited patiently. Eventually, feeling too uncomfortable under the steady gaze, Gu Ming gave in with a sigh and unclipped her mic.
Seeing this, Song Ai turned off her own mic as well, watching her quietly.
Gu Ming rubbed her temples. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me, and honestly, I don’t want to dig too deep into it. All I know is that right now, I am furious. Every time I think of her, I just—” She rubbed her forehead again, her voice laced with frustration, confusion, and helplessness.
“What did she do?”
“Strictly speaking, it’s nothing huge. She lied to me. It’s not like I haven’t been deceived by people of her crowd before. But with her… just the thought that she lied to me makes me—” Gu Ming couldn’t control herself anymore. She stood up, pacing around the tent in sheer agitation.
“Maybe she had her reasons?”
“Ha! What reasons could she possibly have? People like her, that kind of crowd—”
“But do you really think she’s just like the rest of them?” Song Ai interrupted gently. “Don’t you want to hear her explanation, even just a little?”
Was she like them?
No, she wasn’t.
It was true that Gu Yan had debuted under the label of “Little Gu Ming,” but whether it was on set or behind the scenes, Gu Ming had been the one to initiate contact.
It was Gu Ming who had first approached her at the sinks to show some warmth. It was Gu Ming who had noticed her fainting from low blood sugar on set. From the very first moment she saw Gu Yan, she had been drawn to her, curious about her.
Gu Yan wasn’t like those other body doubles. She had never used their physical resemblance to climb social ladders or force a connection. In fact, she had always seemed overwhelmed by Gu Ming’s extra care, repeatedly trying to decline it out of politeness.
If Gu Ming hadn’t actively sought her out, Gu Yan would have likely remained in her corner, watching her from afar.
“But she still lied to me,” Gu Ming muttered. “She had so many chances to tell me the truth…”
“Then why don’t you ask her yourself? Why condemn her so quickly?” Song Ai countered. “Gu Ming, whether Gu Yan’s feelings for you are genuine or fake…even those of us who have only known her for less than a week can see it clearly.”
Gu Yan and You Sa were polar opposites. You Sa was bubbly and talkative, while Gu Yan was a girl of few words. Most of the times she did speak, it revolved around Gu Ming.
She was used to doing things quietly. Wherever Gu Ming was, Gu Yan could usually be found close by, shadowing her.
No one had thought much of it before, but now that she was gone, a collective awkwardness hung over the group. It felt like something vital was missing from Gu Ming’s side.
Song Ai hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with Gu Yan, but she had eyes. She could see that Gu Yan cared for Gu Ming to an absolute fault.
Whenever Gu Ming, acting as the team leader, took on the responsibility of gathering firewood or foraging for food, Gu Yan was always the most anxious one left behind. She tried her best to hide it, but her nervous tics gave her away. Only when she saw Gu Ming return safely would she quietly let out a breath and rush over to help.
She often clung to Gu Ming, but the moment Gu Ming integrated into the larger group, Gu Yan would voluntarily retreat into a corner to watch over her silently.
Song Ai wasn’t sure if that counted as jealousy, but she could tell that Gu Yan wasn’t happy in those moments. It was just that her unhappiness, like everything else about her, was entirely silent.
Gu Ming fell quiet. Knowing she needed space to process her thoughts, Song Ai silently slipped out of the tent.
Not long after she left, however, the production crew announced that tomorrow would be a rest day.
When Song Ai casually strolled past Gu Ming’s tent a short while later, she found it entirely empty, just as she had suspected.
She shook her head with a helpless, knowing smile.
Gu Ming rushed back to the hospital through the night.
By the time she arrived, Gu Yan was already awake. Qiu Yuan was standing by the bedside with a stiff, cold expression, informing her that she wouldn’t be returning to the wilderness survival show.
Gu Yan had tried to fight it. She had even attempted to call Yan Ling, but Yan Ling had ignored her calls until, growing annoyed, she finally dialed Qiu Yuan. “Tell her to behave herself,” was the only order.
While Qiu Yuan was utterly deferential to Yan Ling, she showed no such courtesy to Gu Yan. She said bluntly, “President Yan is never going to let you go back, so you might as well give up on that idea. You know how President Yan feels about Miss Gu. Why do you insist on constantly displeasing her?”
“Even if things don’t work out between President Yan and Miss Gu, it’s not the place of a mere substitute like you to fill the gap. Be smart, Gu Yan. You really don’t want to find out how President Yan deals with social climbers who try to use their looks.”
“Is it a crime for me to like someone?” Gu Yan’s voice trembled.
“You can like anyone you want, except Miss Gu.” Qiu Yuan’s voice was ice-cold. She added one final blow: “Furthermore, Miss Gu already knows about your relationship with President Yan.”
Gu Yan’s face drained of all color. “What did you say? How could Gu Ming know? What did Yan Ling do? She—”
Agitated, she tried to bolt upright, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit her, sending her crashing back onto the bed.
Her ears rang loudly for a long moment before she managed to push herself up again, her hands and feet completely numb with dread.
Gu Ming knows. She knows…
No wonder she hadn’t seen her since waking up. Does she… does she hate me to death now?
[Gu Ming, do you have any preferences? Or rather, anything you dislike? Don’t misunderstand, I just… want to return the favor for the meals you brought me.]
[If you ask me out of the blue like that, I don’t really know what to say. Dislikes… I guess I hate being lied to. I’ve fallen into that trap way too many times.]
[I meant food flavors…]
[Ah, I see! Sorry, sorry, completely misread that, haha. Does not eating onions, ginger, or garlic count? Actually, I don’t have any severe dislikes; it mostly depends on the chef’s skill.]
[Uh, this… is this really edible? It won’t give me food poisoning, will it? Haha.]
[Forget it, I’ll just keep bringing you food from now on. If you really feel bad about it, you can handle washing the lunchboxes.]
[Honestly, your prep work looked so professional. How did the actual cooking turn out so… Never mind, let me teach you.]
[Well, it seems cooking really does require a bit of natural talent. It’s fine! Nothing is impossible if you’re willing to give up. Let’s just pivot to a different path. Anyway, we only shoot the prep phase for the camera; the final dishes are just props.]
[Gu Yan and I are basically real sisters. You can tell just by looking at our faces.]
[Yes, in my heart, Gu Yan is a highly dedicated actress. I even have photos on my phone of her intently reading her script on set. But those are part of my personal collection, not for the public!]
[What do you mean ‘hyping up a sisterhood CP’? We are great friends both on and off-screen.]
[Gu Yan isn’t that kind of person. If anyone dares to spread rumors about her using me to climb the ladder again, I’ll see every single one of you in court.]
Gu Yan’s eyes burned and throbbed, tears threatening to spill over. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her hands into tight fists in a desperate bid to soothe the soaring agony and panic in her chest.
But it hurt so badly.
Even though she had envisioned this day coming eventually, she still couldn’t hold back the crushing wave of sorrow.
When Gu Ming arrived at the door, this was the exact scene she witnessed:
Gu Yan, pale as a ghost, sat with her eyes clamped shut and her jaw tightly clenched, clearly enduring some immense internal torment. Moisture gathered on her eyelashes. The moment Gu Yan realized it, her body went rigid and she hung her head low, letting two silent tears plunge onto the blanket.
Yan Ling’s assistant, Qiu Yuan, merely stood by the bed, completely indifferent to her heartbreak.
As much as Gu Ming tried to convince herself that Gu Yan deserved this…that this was the price she had to pay for choosing to be a plaything for Yan Ling…the moment she saw those tears, her heart softened. An involuntary, aching urge to step forward and comfort her surged within her.
Gu Ming let out a silent, bitter self-deprecating laugh. I really am a hopeless bleeding heart.
She had been deceived so many times, yet she never seemed to learn her lesson.
Besides, Gu Yan should be happy. She had played Gu Ming like a fiddle. What was she crying for now, and who was she even crying for? How could Yan Ling or anyone around her ever truly care about the feelings of a mere substitute?