Yun Ni discovered that, perhaps due to observing countless “performances” and reading people in her past life, she could perfectly immerse herself in her character despite this being her first time filming. Occasionally, she could even draw others into the scene with her.
Coupled with the fact that Liang Zhiyou and Tao Ningchu were decent actors themselves, the group managed to finish more scenes on their first day than originally planned.
In contrast, progress for Dong Menglian and Liao Linhang was not as smooth as Director Zhou had expected.
As the leads in a period drama, wire-work (“wire-flying”) was unavoidable. In the sweltering summer heat, ancient robes were stifling enough on their own; adding a harness and being suspended in the air was more than most could bear, let alone the fragile-looking Dong Menglian. Throughout the day, whenever a wire scene came up, Dong Menglian either claimed she needed to rest or insisted on using a stunt double, severely dragging down the production schedule.
Because of this, Yun Ni and the other supporting actors were forced to wait around, finally finishing the day’s tasks at ten o’clock at night.
However, Dong Menglian’s manager clearly knew her artist’s habits. After work, the manager offered to treat everyone to late-night snacks.
Having been exhausted all day, Yun Ni only wanted to rest and had no desire for food. Consequently, aside from Yun Ni, Tao Ningchu, Liang Zhiyou, and the director, everyone else went along—a grand procession of over a dozen people.
Yun Ni let the stylist remove her elaborate hairpieces before starting on her makeup.
“I bet Dong Menglian is holding a grudge against us,” Tao Ningchu whispered, leaning over. “When I came out after changing earlier, she gave me a vicious glare.”
Yun Ni could guess that someone as petty as Dong Menglian would resent them, but she didn’t care. She truly had no interest in these collective social gatherings.
Furthermore, whether before her transmigration or after, she was accustomed to “early to bed, early to rise.” She usually slept around nine and woke up at five or six in the morning. Now that it was nearly eleven, she was struggling to stay awake; she had nearly drifted off while the stylist was undoing her hair.
Giving a yawn, Yun Ni waved her hand dismissively. “Given her personality, she’ll likely play some tricks during filming. Just be careful.”
Tao Ningchu nodded. Seeing Yun Ni’s constant yawning, she knew her friend was tired, so she stopped talking and sped up her packing, grabbing her bag to leave.
The filming location was a distance from their accommodation. Usually, everyone took the crew’s shuttle back to the hotel, a trip that took only five or six minutes.
But since most people had gone for snacks, the shuttle back to the guesthouse wasn’t running. One vehicle took the party-goers, and the other took the director and his team in the opposite direction. Therefore, Yun Ni and the others had to walk back, stretching the commute to nearly twenty minutes.
This caused Tao Ningchu to grumble the whole way. “Even if we didn’t go for snacks, they shouldn’t make us walk back.”
Yun Ni looked at her childish pouting and shook her head.
Whether in her previous world or this one, the essence was the same: the strong are respected. The entertainment industry operated on similar logic. Small stars like them, with no backers or background, had no right to make demands; they could only accept whatever was arranged for them.
Tao Ningchu was a chatterbox and didn’t need much input from Yun Ni to keep going for the entire walk. Encouraged by Yun Ni’s occasional responses, she shared gossip ranging from a certain “Miss L” being a “kept woman” to the specific boy she liked in elementary school—even describing his looks in detail.
Yun Ni wasn’t annoyed. She emptied her mind and, in a half-drowsy state, yawned her way back to the hotel.
Perhaps affected by the events of the day, Lin Zijin had a dream that night that she hadn’t had in a long time.
—It was her past life.
Lin Zijin had three older brothers. Her father was the Great Protector General of the dynasty, and her mother was the niece of the Empress Dowager. Born into nobility, she was treated no differently than a princess.
Her parents doted on their late-born daughter. Influenced by her father, she didn’t care for the zither, chess, calligraphy, or needlework. Instead, she was fascinated by martial arts and warfare, eventually becoming the first female general.
Lin Zijin had forgotten exactly when she fell for Yun Ni. She only remembered their first meeting: a young man as gentle as jade, with a pair of narrow “peach blossom” eyes. Her young heart had surrendered right then. The more they interacted, the more she loved. Even when the other person revealed they were actually a woman, her feelings never wavered; she even helped her ascend the throne.
Lin Zijin wasn’t one for silent sacrifice; everything she did was to win the other person. When she led the army to war, she made a pact: “When I return in triumph, you shall marry me as your Empress.”
She had her mother help embroider her wedding dress, intending to wear it on the day of her victorious return to become Yun Ni’s Empress openly. But just as victory was in sight, she was struck by a poisoned arrow and breathed her last.
Gasps—
In the dark, the woman submerged in the dream snapped her eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
It took a long time for Lin Zijin to react. she fumbled for her phone and saw it was only past four in the morning. After a moment’s thought, she sat up, turned on a small lamp, and opened an app to search for news about Yun Ni.
Although she had transmigrated into this world as a fetus, Lin Zijin’s memories were intact. She had hidden the memories of her past life deep within, trying to forget the people and things of the past.
It wasn’t until she met this person—who looked identical and was even named “Yun Ni”—that she realized even after twenty years, she hadn’t forgotten. Instead, the longing for that person had deepened step by step in her heart.
Unfortunately, even with the same face, a different person was still a different person.
The Yun Ni she loved always wore a mask of smiles, capable of disguising her narrow, alluring eyes with a gentle, jade-like demeanor, while being colder than anyone else at her core. Yet, Lin Zijin loved her anyway—loved her to the bone, enough to die for her.
And this Yun Ni with the same face? She was said to be gentle, but in reality, she was cowardly and weak, lacking her own opinions and held firmly in her manager’s grasp.
But… starting from some unknown point, Yun Ni seemed to have changed.
This was why Lin Zijin had been willing to help remove the hot searches and the related press releases.
Lin Zijin recalled the look in Yun Ni’s eyes in Lin Huaihan’s photo and retraced her recent interactions with her. Her right hand tapped open the official photo released by the crew—a group shot of the staff and actors.
In the center were the director and leads, while Yun Ni stood slightly to the right. The pink petal $huadian$ between her brows made her skin look as white as snow. Her narrow “peach blossom” eyes were slightly downcast, hiding their usual allure and replacing it with a touch of submissiveness.
Staring at those familiar eyes, Lin Zijin’s gaze grew dark and unreadable.
Was it just an illusion?