She really was cursed when it came to Ruan Qingxiao today.
Li Mengjue thought this with a growing headache. After a moment of silence, she replied to her friend: “That was six years ago.”
Who waits six years to get revenge for someone else?
Li Mengjue thought about it, deleted the words “I don’t know her” from the chat box, and added: “We aren’t close. We’ve barely even spoken.”
Friend C: “Oh, really? I felt like she liked you quite a bit.” She sounded somewhat disappointed. “I think you two look great together. Are you really not considering a collaboration? A lot of fans are looking forward to it.”
Li Mengjue slowly deleted the words: “That’s just your imagination.”
Li Mengjue: “Have you been watching strange things again lately?”
Friend C: “How did you know? But it’s not ‘strange.’ A kid asked me to draw some fanart, so they showed me a video of you and Ruan Qingxiao.”
Li Mengjue: “…”
Li Mengjue: “I get it now.”
—It was a CP fan (Couple Fan).
Given her reality of desperately trying to avoid the eldest Miss Ruan, there were actually zero videos of them in the same frame. In the fan community, this was called “Crackshipping”—pairing two people who have no actual on-screen interaction.
Being in the industry, very few people are truly ignorant of what “CP” means. Li Mengjue had long since heard rumors of this crackship between herself and Miss Ruan. The reason was simple: their faces.
Every other supposed “sense of destiny” was just a point of comparison forcibly dug up by fans. Whether in public or private, they weren’t even friends, let alone romantically entangled.
No one in the industry dared to use Miss Ruan for clout, but companies didn’t usually interfere with spontaneous fan shipping. Since Li Mengjue had a clean background and high popularity, Ruan Qingxiao’s manager was actually quite happy to let it happen. As long as Miss Ruan didn’t explicitly demand to draw a line in the sand with Teacher Li, the manager simply played dumb.
Li Mengjue could only clarify to her misled friend: “It’s all fake. It’s all post-production editing and forced perspectives. I’ve never even acted opposite her; my lines were all spoken to other people.”
—It would be a miracle if Miss Ruan didn’t hate her.
Friend C replied sluggishly: “Is that so?” Then she continued: “But I wasn’t watching a drama edit. It was a video of you and Ruan Qingxiao at an awards ceremony together.”
Friend C: [Link—’Qing-Meng’ (Pure Dream): The way you look at her…]
Friend C: “Is this a forced perspective edit, too?”
Li Mengjue slightly regretted clicking the link so quickly. Aside from the background music, there were no traces of editing; it was entirely raw footage from real life.
The moment she saw the venue layout, Li Mengjue remembered which ceremony it was. Back then, Ruan Qingxiao had just debuted. She wasn’t trying to be low-profile, but she hadn’t shown much ambition either. Others had only heard rumors of her background and assumed she was just an heiress playing around on a whim.
That night, she had likely secured a seat due to her status as the Ruan family’s daughter, and she had sat quietly in a corner the entire time. Only a few people recognized her immediately and went over to exchange pleasantries.
At that time, Li Mengjue hadn’t realized her identity. As she walked past Miss Ruan, she felt a gaze on her. She turned back and gave a habitual smile, but the other woman turned her face away, refusing to look at her.
Perhaps she was shy, or perhaps she disliked her; in the dim light of the corner, Li Mengjue couldn’t see her expression clearly. A friend beside her had nudged her arm, using body language to warn her not to offend this person. Li Mengjue understood then—she couldn’t offend her, but she couldn’t easily climb that social ladder either.
Li Mengjue wasn’t one for aggressive social climbing, so she simply walked past Miss Ruan and, guided by the staff, took her seat on the other side of the hall.
At that ceremony, Li Mengjue won an award. When she was called onto the stage, the audience in the front rows cheered. Her friend was so excited they nearly jumped out of their seat to hug her. That was her entire memory of that night.
The ceremony hadn’t been packed with A-listers, and the award wasn’t the most prestigious. After trending for a night, it was quickly buried by other celebrity gossip. Li Mengjue had never re-watched the footage, so she had never noticed the details hidden in that corner.
Later, someone discovered something from a different camera angle.
Li Mengjue muted the melodramatic background music and watched the process of her winning from this new angle. It was only at this moment that she realized Ruan Qingxiao had actually stood up to applaud her. And when the event ended, they had actually shared a brief moment of eye contact.
Back then, Li Mengjue had struggled in the industry for years without becoming famous. She had gambled everything on acting rather than just appearing on variety shows to build popularity based on her looks. She was certain her choice would pay off, but the award was a different level of validation.
The moment her name was called, she was naturally overjoyed. Even after coming off stage, her eyes were incredibly bright—brighter than the crystal chandeliers—filled with pure delight. She hugged her friends one by one and even hopped in place.
Outside the video, Li Mengjue rested her chin on her hand, her lips curling into a slight smile. She had almost forgotten she used to be so… lively.
Then she noticed Ruan Qingxiao’s gaze in the corner of the video. From the moment Li Mengjue stepped onto the stage, Ruan Qingxiao’s eyes never left her until the very end.
As the crowd rose to leave, they bid brief goodbyes to Miss Ruan, who remained in her seat. No one asked why she wasn’t leaving. Reporters were waiting outside.
Li Mengjue, holding her flowers and trophy, walked at the back of the crowd. To avoid the most congested exit, she passed by Ruan Qingxiao’s side once again.
Ruan Qingxiao had whispered “Congratulations,” a sound almost swallowed by the noisy background. Li Mengjue must have heard it, as she turned with a smile and said “Thank you.”
But in her excitement, she hadn’t truly taken the words to heart. She turned back immediately to continue talking to a friend. The video ended the moment she turned away.
As Li Mengjue walked toward the exit, Ruan Qingxiao’s gaze remained fixed on her back. The viewers of the video, unable to know what happened next, wailed about the “angst,” screaming for Li Mengjue to turn around and lamenting that her “passionate glances were wasted on the blind.”
Old memories slowly flooded back. Li Mengjue couldn’t help but touch her nose, feeling a rare sense of guilt. She remembered what happened next.
That day, Ruan Qingxiao had actually followed not far behind her, but Li Mengjue was so busy talking to her friend that she never once looked back. Of course, it wasn’t entirely her fault; she didn’t know the person’s identity then, only that she looked vaguely familiar. To Li Mengjue, “vaguely familiar” but without a name or status was the same as being a stranger. She wasn’t keen on socializing with strangers.
Finally, they parted ways in the underground parking lot. Ruan Qingxiao’s driver was waiting. Before getting into her car, she seemed to have asked Li Mengjue if she wanted a ride. Li Mengjue had naturally said “No thanks” and turned to get into her friend’s car.
It was over a year later before they met again in a formal setting. Li Mengjue had been busy with training and filming, working non-stop in a semi-secluded state. She had long since forgotten that little episode after the awards ceremony.
Aside from Ruan Qingxiao, countless people had said similar things to her. No one keeps polite pleasantries etched in their mind forever.
Probably… right?
At this moment, Li Mengjue suddenly felt a flicker of uncertainty. Every time Miss Ruan saw her later, she acted so annoyed—could it be because Li Mengjue had unconsciously ignored her at that awards ceremony?
Would the dignified eldest Miss of the Ruan family be that petty?
Li Mengjue recalled the actions of the “villainous supporting actress” in the original plot…
Well, maybe she would.
But she couldn’t be blamed, Li Mengjue thought. If she had realized it was Ruan Qingxiao back then, she would have run even faster than she did in the video. Even if Miss Ruan had rushed up and said, “I’m your fan,” it wouldn’t have worked. She would have just quit the industry on the spot.
The best way to avoid a bad ending is to never start. To have no involvement at all.
Li Mengjue tried to exit the video but accidentally clicked into the comment section. The top pinned comment completed the thought the title had left unfinished:
“The way you look at her is anything but innocent.”
No one looks at someone they hate with such focused intensity.
Li Mengjue’s finger paused for a moment before she finally closed the video.
Friend C: “Still there?”
Li Mengjue: “Yeah.”
Friend C: “If you really can’t accept it, I’ll turn down the fanart request. It was going to be free anyway.”
Li Mengjue: “No need. Do whatever you want. It’s all fake anyway.”
Li Mengjue’s final words were: “She and I won’t have any intersection in the future.”
Li Mengjue suspected she had awakened some sort of “jinx” talent.
The morning after discussing the CP fan issue, her manager, Sister Ling, called early, saying there was something important to discuss.
Li Mengjue was on the balcony watering flowers. She put the phone on speaker and asked, “What is it?”
Sister Ling played coy. “There’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
Li Mengjue felt her right eyelid twitching—a bad omen. She chose cautiously: “Give me the bad news first.”
“The second female lead for your next drama, Zeng Qianqian, resigned from the cast yesterday morning,” Sister Ling said.
Li Mengjue was stunned. “Did something happen to Qianqian?”
Zeng Qianqian was a newcomer actress and Li Mengjue’s junior from the same academy. Li Mengjue had seen her graduation performance, thought she was talented, and recommended her to the director. The new drama wasn’t a massive production, so a second lead role was a great start for a fresh graduate. More importantly, Qianqian was a “stan” of Li Mengjue.
From the day the contract was signed, Qianqian had been bragging to everyone, counting down the days until filming began. She had even been pestering Li Mengjue for acting tips and script analysis. From a logical standpoint, there was no way she would quit without a reason, especially since she’d have to pay a penalty fee.
“Nothing happened,” Sister Ling replied. “I was confused too, so I did some digging. Basically, she got a better opportunity she couldn’t pass up, so she had to drop this one. I expect she’ll call you to apologize soon.”
“What ‘better opportunity’?”
“The second female lead in Director Shen Qingyi’s new movie. Apparently, the audition was a success. No wonder she’d ditch her idol.”
Director Shen was a prestigious, idiosyncratic director. A role in one of her films was a golden ticket for any newcomer. However, Li Mengjue guessed this wasn’t why Sister Ling sounded so calm.
“So,” Li Mengjue asked calmly, “who is the new second lead?”
Sister Ling cleared her throat. “Well, that movie is primarily funded by the Star River Group. And… the new person coming into our drama paid off Qianqian’s penalty fee and even added a massive sponsorship to our production.”
Li Mengjue: “…”
The Star River Group’s entertainment branch signed many celebrities. But there was only one person rich and bold enough to do something like this personally—
Ruan Qingxiao. Miss Ruan herself was also a major shareholder of the Star River Group.
It was a bolt from the blue.
Li Mengjue: “I—”
Sister Ling: “Resigning requires a penalty fee, and the lead actor’s fee is the highest tier.”
Li Mengjue: “I have—”
Sister Ling: “You also owe Director Li a favor. Everyone has been working around your schedule to prepare for so long. Would you really have the heart to quit now?”
Li Mengjue was silent for a while. Then, she asked in despair, “If I said I just developed a terminal illness—late stage—would you believe me?”
Sister Ling: “What illness?”
Li Mengjue: “A severe Ruan Qingxiao allergy.”
Sister Ling: “…”