Lin Zijin was used to eating alone, but facing those familiar peach-blossom eyes, she found herself helpless. By the time she snapped out of it, she had already picked up her utensils and sat down opposite Yun Ni.
Yun Ni glanced at the person across from her unobtrusively. “I thought President Lin preferred dining alone.”
Lin Zijin: “Mm.”
Yun Ni was instantly choked up. This conversation was impossible to sustain.
After a moment’s thought, she quickly changed the subject. “I heard from Director Zhou. I haven’t had the chance to say thank you yet.”
Lin Zijin looked up at her. “You can say it now.”
Yun Ni: “…”
“Thank you.” The gratitude felt incredibly stifled.
“You’re welcome.” Lin Zijin crossed her hands over her lap and leaned back against the chair. “And don’t flatter yourself. We were already planning to axe the actress playing Princess Dong’er; you just happened to pick up the slack.”
Yun Ni’s smile stiffened. This was the second time she’d been told this, and both times it came from Lin Zijin. Once in the elevator for no reason, and now after a thank-you. It was a perfectly normal social interaction—why did the other woman always twist it?
How exactly had the “original” soul of this body offended her?
Could Lin Zijin find it disgusting that the original owner, a woman, confessed to her? Yun Ni pondered Lin Zijin’s attitude, and the more she thought, the more she felt she had hit the truth.
Thinking this way, she felt it necessary to clarify. Whether the other party believed her or not, she had to take a stand; otherwise, every future meeting would be a source of great distress.
Reaching out to take the bowl and chopsticks in front of Lin Zijin, Yun Ni skillfully rinsed the utensils for her and spoke up: “President Lin, I think there have been some misunderstandings between us. I wonder if you could give me a chance to clarify?”
Lin Zijin’s gaze drifted away from those slender, fair fingers. “Go ahead.”
Yun Ni was genuinely worried she would snap back with something like “There is no misunderstanding,” so seeing her willing to listen brought a sigh of relief.
Weighing her words, Yun Ni spoke slowly: “President Lin, do you know how many people in this company like you?”
“I don’t know the exact number.” Lin Zijin looked at her calmly. “But you are the only woman who dared to confess to me.”
Listening to that calm tone, combined with the reactions from earlier today, Yun Ni sensed a deep-seated revulsion.
She knew from her memories that the original owner did indeed have feelings for Lin Zijin because Lin Zijin was the one who insisted she be the lead in her debut drama. Everyone whispered that Lin Zijin was interested in her, and the original owner eventually believed it. Combined with being dazzled by beauty and drinking too much at a wrap party, she confessed, only to be rejected utterly.
If it were Yun Ni herself, she would have wanted to take the other person’s head off for such an attitude. But since she had taken over the body, she didn’t want the original owner to be branded a “creep” in this person’s heart. More importantly, she didn’t think liking the same sex was a big problem.
Her gaze sharpened. “President Lin, do you hate homosexuals?”
Lin Zijin: “…Hm?”
Seeing that reaction, Yun Ni felt even more certain of her guess. She pushed the utensils over, crossed her arms, and leaned back just like Lin Zijin. “Why did you designate me as the female lead when I debuted? I was a newcomer then, and my acting wasn’t good.”
Lin Zijin looked at that radiant face, her eyes darkening slightly. “I had private reasons.”
Meaning she couldn’t say.
Yun Ni shook her head. “Do you know what everyone was saying back then? They said President Lin likes Yun Ni; otherwise she wouldn’t have let Yun Ni replace a Film Queen.”
As a result, when the drama aired, the original owner’s acting was trashed. Especially since the Film Queen she replaced starred in a massive hit at the same time, leaving the original owner to suffer the brunt of the media’s and the fans’ attacks.
Yun Ni looked up at the person across from her. She knew she couldn’t blame Lin Zijin for giving a newcomer a chance, but she still felt a pang of injustice for the original owner. “The rumors spread until even Yun Ni believed them. That’s why she got the courage to confess after drinking.”
Lin Zijin found the third-person phrasing strange, but she was drawn into the content. Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t know about those rumors.”
She had seen that Yun Ni’s face was identical to that person’s, which led to her initial testing. Unfortunately, people are different, and she had stopped paying attention afterward. She hadn’t realized there were so many twists and turns—or rather, she hadn’t cared enough to look into it for Yun Ni’s sake.
She looked up. Seeing Yun Ni’s indifferent gaze, time seemed to flash back to her memories before she crossed into this world. After that person ascended the throne, she often had that same look in court—as if she were a detached observer.
Returning to the present, she saw Yun Ni had lowered her head. Lin Zijin rubbed her temples, chalking the vision up to exhaustion.
“So,” she asked, “you confessed to me because you misunderstood my intentions after hearing the rumors?”
Yun Ni recalled the memories and nodded. Based on the history, the original owner didn’t even know Lin Zijin; she only looked into her after hearing rumors for half a month. The “love” wasn’t necessarily deep; the original owner was just tired of being lonely and wanted someone to be good to her.
Lin Zijin lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”
Yun Ni didn’t speak. This apology was for the original owner.
Lin Zijin added: “I have no feelings for you, but I do not discriminate against same-sex love.”
Hearing this, Yun Ni asked the question that had bothered her all day: “If you don’t discriminate, why do you have such a big problem with me?”
Lin Zijin naturally disliked seeing that specific face show weakness or cowardice. She felt a sense of “hating that the iron wouldn’t turn to steel.” Hearing the question, she pressed her lips together. “I misunderstood.” Thinking of the impact on Yun Ni, she paused and added, “I’m sorry.”
Misunderstood? Misunderstood what—that because the original owner confessed, everything she did was to get Lin Zijin’s attention? Isn’t that a bit narcissistic? Yun Ni couldn’t guess the real reason, so she settled on the most likely answer.
Hearing the second apology, she laughed. “President Lin, I’ve heard those two words three times today.”
Lin Zijin: “There won’t be a chance for it in the future.”
“Let’s hope so.” Now that everything was out in the open, Yun Ni felt a sense of relief for the original owner. No one wants to be misunderstood regarding their feelings.
The food at this restaurant was exquisite and the portions were generous. Since neither of them ate much, they didn’t order anything else. When it came time for the bill, Yun Ni was about to pay, but Lin Zijin pulled out two hundred-yuan bills and handed them to the waiter.
“We go halves.” Yun Ni was short on money, but she didn’t want to take advantage. She took out her phone. “President Lin, what’s your account? I’ll transfer my share to you.”
“If you still had feelings for me, I’d say you’re just asking for my contact info.” Lin Zijin stood up. “Consider this my apology. Don’t decline.”
With that, she left Yun Ni behind. Her departure was elegant, but she didn’t see the helpless look in Yun Ni’s eyes.
Yun Ni had already discovered that Lin Zijin was inherently narcissistic; otherwise, she wouldn’t frame every action as a way to get close to her. She genuinely wanted to transfer the money, yet the other woman thought she was digging for a phone number. If that wasn’t narcissism, what was?
After a moment of annoyance, Yun Ni picked up her umbrella. She still had to go to the supermarket; she couldn’t waste time.
As soon as Lin Zijin returned to the company, she ordered her secretary to investigate the old rumors. By the next morning, a file detailing the process was on her desk. She scanned it and realized Yun Ni hadn’t just been blacklisted because she replaced a role; someone had intentionally used her as a stepping stone to gain fame.
She closed the file. She didn’t intend to bring up the past. If Yun Ni was capable, she would find out eventually. If she wasn’t, giving her the information wouldn’t help.
That same day, the production crew of Dreaming Back to Late Autumn began releasing the cast list.
Zhang Lingyu, Yun Ni’s manager, received the notification as soon as she started work—detailing the filming time, location, and even the script. Zhang Lingyu lost her cool. She remembered Yun Ni saying the maid role was gone. Why was she suddenly joining the cast? Had Yun Ni lied to her?
She opened the script, scanned the cast list, and quickly found Yun Ni’s name. Then she saw the role: Princess Dong’er.
Zhang Lingyu rubbed her eyes several times. It really said “Yun Ni,” and the company affiliation was indeed theirs. She couldn’t help but gasp, “How is this possible? Wasn’t this role meant for Xu Dieyu?”
She had insider info and knew which roles were “reserved,” which was why she sent Yun Ni to audition for the reserved role of Shu Sheng. By the same logic, she knew Princess Dong’er had been taken by Vice President Lin’s new companion, Xu Dieyu. Yet now, Xu Dieyu’s name was gone, replaced by Yun Ni.
Who was Yun Ni? An 18th-tier actress whose every project flopped, labeled a “pretty face” and mocked by the public. To suddenly replace the Vice President’s woman—Zhang Lingyu wouldn’t believe it wasn’t fishy. But she couldn’t figure out the angle. She had tried to introduce the girl to old bosses and investors, but Yun Ni had ignored them completely.
She called a contact on the crew to ask what was going on. The contact didn’t have much authority but had heard the rumors. “I heard Director Zhou went to President Lin. Originally, Zhou wanted to give your artist the role of Shu Sheng, but President Lin specifically named her to play Princess Dong’er.”
“President Lin?” Zhang Lingyu’s face paled. “The President of our company?”
“Who else but her could axe the Vice President’s woman? Anyway, it seems Yun Ni is being covered by President Lin now. You’d better watch yourself.”
The contact hung up, leaving Zhang Lingyu trembling. She had heard many rumors about Lin Zijin—her iron-fisted methods and lack of sentimentality. Anyone who crossed her didn’t end up well.
Zhang Lingyu wasn’t high-ranking enough; she’d only seen Lin Zijin a few times during Yun Ni’s first shoot. Back then, she also thought Yun Ni had landed a “big thigh,” but when the drama flopped and resources dried up without Lin Zijin lifting a finger, the rumors died. Now that Lin Zijin had given Yun Ni a role again, she wasn’t sure if it was a one-off or if she was truly protecting her.
If it was the former, she knew Yun Ni’s acting skills; the ending would be the same—no, maybe worse. But if it was the latter, Yun Ni might tell Lin Zijin about the “investors” Zhang Lingyu had tried to set her up with.
Thinking of Lin Zijin’s methods, Zhang Lingyu broke into a cold sweat. After a long time, she finally thought of a plan that wasn’t really a plan.