Driven by a lingering sense of resentment, Gu Ming sent a message to Yao Yi, asking her to look into what exactly was going on between Gu Yan and Yan Ling.
Song Ai was right. She should give Gu Yan a chance to explain herself but she refused to let Gu Yan deceive or placate her ever again.
With outsiders present, it wasn’t convenient for Gu Ming to enter the hospital room. Instead, she waited outside for a while, only leaving once she saw Gu Yan slowly recovering her strength and felt reassured enough to head home.
Investigating someone like Yan Ling was no easy feat. In fact, Yan Ling seemed to have anticipated that someone might dig into her affairs; she had woven multiple layers of deception around Gu Yan’s background. However, none of this was enough to stop Yao Yi. By the following evening, she had meticulously pieced together every detail of their history and sent it straight to Gu Ming.
On paper, under Yan Ling’s careful curation, Gu Yan was a young lady from a moderately wealthy family. With both parents alive and well, her upbringing was picture-perfect, nurtured by love.
Supposedly, she had been discovered entirely by chance by a talent scout from Qian Ceng Media. The reality, however, was that her face simply bore a striking resemblance to Gu Ming’s closer than any other starlet who had previously used plastic surgery to mimic Gu Ming’s features.
Qian Ceng had spent a considerable amount of time courting Gu Yan before convincing her to sign. The moment her photos were released, there was no need for forced marketing; her face alone generated instant buzz, making her an overnight sensation.
Her acting debut was in a web drama produced by Qian Ceng. She played a proud, cold supporting character a role that perfectly matched her looks and shot to stardom immediately.
Yet, rather than burning herself out to cash in on the hype, she had gone abroad for a period to hone her acting skills. It was only after her return that she crossed paths with Gu Ming in Feng Wu Jiu Tian.
Every step Gu Yan took was calculated and steady. Since her debut, aside from the inevitable rumors that she was riding on Gu Ming’s coattails due to their identical looks, her record was virtually spotless.
Yet, this was the most vicious trap Yan Ling had deliberately set for Gu Yan.
The truth of Gu Yan’s background was far from that of a wealthy, pampered daughter with a happy, intact family.
Her parents were dead. She had been left entirely alone, destitute, with no permanent place to live. Before Yan Ling took her in, she had nearly starved to death in this bustling metropolis.
She had no higher education, no specialized skills, and could only survive by working odd jobs.
From the age of fifteen to twenty-one, her work experience stretched across three full pages.
By the time Gu Ming scrolled to the end, she could hardly bear to read the rest.
With a pang of sorrow, she realized she could no longer find it in herself to hate Gu Yan for the deception.
If anything, her heart ached for her even more.
Especially after Yan Ling took her under her wing. On the surface, her living conditions had improved drastically, but the frequent hospital visits, the endless records of injuries, the scars, the X-rays…
“I didn’t end up in the hospital because I have a weak constitution…”
Gu Ming took a deep breath, leaning her head back against the chair. After a long, heavy silence, she dialed Yao Yi’s number.
“Help me keep a close eye on Yan Ling.”
Gu Yan stayed in the hospital for only three days before Qiu Yuan escorted her back to Yan Ling’s place to recuperate.
But her respite was short-lived. Under Yan Ling’s explicit instructions, her manager signed her up for an indie art film.
She wouldn’t receive the script until she arrived on set. Yan Ling had even called her personally, framing it as a pleasant surprise a compensation of sorts for the ordeal on Wilderness Survival.
Gu Yan knew better than to believe Yan Ling possessed a shred of goodwill. She felt a profound aversion to joining the production, but living under someone else’s roof meant she had no choice but to bow her head.
Sure enough, the claim that this project was meant to help her win awards was nothing but a sham. It was just another sickening trap designed to torment her.
Art films loved to drill into societal pain points. The script Yan Ling had chosen for her managed to check the boxes for the most agonizing, high-traffic topics today: domestic violence and same-sex relationships.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she would be playing the victim who gets beaten.
The plot was entirely cliché. It followed two girls who fell in love during their school years, believing that once they entered society, they could spend the rest of their lives together. They thought a relationship between two women would naturally be more harmonious, understanding, and loving than a traditional heterosexual one.
But once they moved in together, they realized their living habits, values, and ways of handling conflict were worlds apart.
Their relationship degenerated from initial sweetness into relentless arguments, culminating in the day her partner struck her across the face for the first time.
Because the feelings ran deep, she forgave her the first time. The partner wept and swore it would never happen again.
But the cracks between them were too deep. No matter how much she endured, and despite her partner’s attempts to be understanding, their love ultimately succumbed to the endless, suffocating pressure of daily life.
They were just two ordinary women, exhausted by the struggle to make a living, constantly strained by the judging eyes and voices of society, colleagues, friends, and parents. The tension mounted, the conflicts escalated, and before long, the violence returned.
Using her taller frame and greater physical strength, the partner beat her until she was bloodied and bruised. Dizzy and disoriented, she tried to escape to call the police, only to be dragged back inside, her phone smashed to pieces.
By the time her partner’s rage spent itself, she was hovering on the brink of death.
Only then did the partner snap out of it, kneeling before her, weeping hysterically and begging for forgiveness.
She held her tightly, repeating over and over how much she loved her. But Gu Yan’s character had already grown entirely cold under the weight of the blows and verbal humiliation.
Who was to say that a same-sex partner couldn’t use the sharpest, most cruel words to cut a person down? The trust they once shared had turned into a blade, gouging out her heart piece by piece. She looked at her lover with eyes that were numb, cold, and laced with quiet hatred.
She hated her lover for making her lose so spectacularly in this game of love.
They clearly had so many larger hurdles waiting for them down the road, yet they were already broken, body and soul, by this tiny speedbump.
She wanted to leave, to give up. But her lover refused to let go, locking her away in the apartment.
She tried calling for help, tried running away, but failed time and again. Each attempt was met with an even more brutal beating.
And every time the violence ended, her lover would hold her, shifting the blame onto her.
If you didn’t try to leave me, I wouldn’t have to lay a hand on you. I love you so much, I can’t live without you.
To make her change her mind, her lover would hold her and kiss her through the night.
The embrace was just as warm and soft as it had always been, but they could never go back to the way things were.
Every time her partner approached, she felt nothing but sheer terror.
All she wanted to do was shrink away.
Her job wouldn’t allow her to take indefinite leave forever, and resigning required her to submit an application to HR in person a month in advance.
Left with no other choice, her partner finally had to let her out.
That final night, neither of them slept.
Her partner seemed to have finally regained her senses, apologizing repeatedly for the madness of the past weeks. She knew that once Gu Yan’s character stepped out of that room, she would never return.
A wave of reluctance washed over her a mourning for the future they had once envisioned and the past they had shared. But for the sake of her own survival, she had to let it go.
They shared a long-overdue embrace, kissing and making love not out of cold coercion or resentment, but with a tragic tenderness.
They stayed together for a long time, until the sky began to pale.
They both cried, each seeing the other’s tears.
But they both knew in their hearts that it was useless. There was no going back.
When the sun fully rose, she picked up her meager luggage and walked out the door—heartbroken, but resolute.
The story ended there.
Honestly, it would be a miracle if a script like this won any awards. Yan Ling’s claim that she wanted her to break into the silver screen was utter nonsense; she was simply finding new ways to torture her.
In reality, being beaten on screen was nothing to Gu Yan. It was routine, an easy performance to deliver. What she truly dreaded and resisted was having to film intimate scenes even a sex scene with another actress.
She had tried discussing it with the director and screenwriter, asking if they could cut the scenes or use camera angles to fake it. They had promised to consider it the day before, only to return the next day with a stern refusal.
They claimed these scenes provided the indispensable conflict driving the entire script. Cutting them would leave the story incomplete, and faking the intimacy would look cheap and artificial. As a dedicated actress, they told her, she ought to understand what it meant to sacrifice for her craft.
Ha. Sacrificing for the craft? More like sacrificing for the investors.
Resentment burned in her chest, but she lacked the power to fight back against Yan Ling.
Her current reality was terrifyingly similar to the character she was about to play.
Except the woman in the script eventually left. She broke free.
But could she?