Pei Yu’s movement was so quiet that Shen Luoxi didn’t hear her. She remained focused on preparing the meal, her actions methodical and orderly.
The broccoli wasn’t overcooked, and the pumpkin reached the perfect level of softness. Once they were ready, she plated them and began seasoning. Based on her understanding of Pei Yu’s recent tastes, she knew the woman preferred lighter flavors, so she used very little seasoning. To be safe, she prepared a separate saucer of dipping sauce on the side, allowing Pei Yu to adjust the flavor to her own liking.
With breakfast ready, Shen Luoxi brought the plates to the table. One portion for each of them.
As Shen Luoxi came out of the kitchen, Pei Yu ducked back into the bedroom, watching through a tiny crack in the door. Her gaze was scrutinizing, yet the sharp edge of suspicion had dulled.
Shen Luoxi was just about to turn and call Pei Yu for breakfast when she stopped. Directly ahead, Pei Yu emerged from the bedroom wearing comfortable casual clothes and walked toward her.
Shen Luoxi looked at her and said, “I was just about to call you for breakfast. I made two portions. If you don’t feel like eating, you don’t have to; I won’t force you.”
“It’s fine,” Pei Yu replied, walking past her to the table.
There were two breakfasts on the table. Pei Yu sat in her usual spot, pulled her plate closer, and used a fork to pick up a piece of the sliced chicken breast. The taste was actually quite good.
Shen Luoxi hadn’t expected Pei Yu to actually eat the breakfast she made. She was surprised that Pei Yu not only didn’t refuse but sat down and ate peacefully without any fuss. She’s being quite well-behaved, Shen Luoxi thought.
Watching Pei Yu eat so diligently, Shen Luoxi felt a strange sense of relief. She removed her apron, hung it on its rack in the kitchen, and sat down opposite Pei Yu to eat slowly.
After the meal, Pei Yu went to her room to change for their outing, while Shen Luoxi loaded the plates into the dishwasher and changed her clothes as well, wanting to wash off the smell of cooking oil before meeting people.
Zhou Jing was scheduled to pick them up at 10:00 AM. Around 9:50 AM, both women stood ready by the elevator.
“Do you really have to go?” Pei Yu asked. Today was just an informal chat with the director and screenwriter; Shen Luoxi’s insistence on tagging along made Pei Yu feel like the woman was up to something again.
Shen Luoxi’s voice remained calm. “Yes, I must go. Besides accompanying you, I need to see Lan Yue. I need to talk to her about what happened last night.”
Shen Luoxi knew she had hurt Lan Yue during the school anniversary, but at that moment, her mind had been entirely occupied by Pei Yu. However, Lan Yue was the second female lead of the novel; Shen Luoxi couldn’t afford to let their relationship sour completely. First, she feared the butterfly effect on the plot; second, she wanted to do it for Shi Xiaoman.
In the original novel’s tragic ending, not only did Pei Yu and the original Shen Luoxi die, but Shi Xiaoman and Lan Yue met a terrible fate as well. According to the book, when Shi Xiaoman learned of Pei Yu’s death, she fainted from grief. Upon waking, a maddened Lan Yue interrogated her, demanding to know if she planned to “follow” Pei Yu in death.
At that time, Shi Xiaoman was so consumed by the news of Pei Yu’s death that she didn’t even process Lan Yue’s frantic outbursts. In a fit of rage, Lan Yue bit and tore at her scent gland. Shi Xiaoman lay on the bed, her hands clutching the sheets, refusing to make a single sound.
When Lan Yue looked up and saw that expression of resigned martyrdom, her sorrow turned into violent indignation. She slapped Shi Xiaoman repeatedly until her cheeks were swollen and her mouth bled, eventually knocking her unconscious. When Shi Xiaoman woke again, she was alone in a cold, desolate hospital room.
That night, Shi Xiaoman thought about many things, but mostly about Lan Yue—about the years of torment, of being trapped in a cage of thorns where every attempt to flee only resulted in more wounds. She pulled the IV from her wrist, stood up with a ghostly pale face, and walked to the window.
The early winter air was cold, but the chill within her was deeper. She looked down at the greenery below, noting there were no pedestrians to be harmed. As she prepared to jump, the door burst open. Lan Yue had returned with a lunchbox and roses, intending to apologize.
The lunchbox and flowers hit the floor. Lan Yue pleaded and threatened her not to jump, but Shi Xiaoman only gave a smile of relief. “Goodbye, Lan Yue. I never have to live in fear by your side again.” She let go, falling backward into the dark. Lan Yue screamed and lunged for the window, but she caught nothing. Shi Xiaoman hit the ground, her blood staining the grey concrete. Lan Yue lost her mind, but Shi Xiaoman was gone, leaving only a cooling body behind.
Ding. The elevator arrived.
Pei Yu stepped in and pressed the button for the first floor, but Shen Luoxi was lost in thought and didn’t notice. Pei Yu had to remind her: “The elevator is here. Aren’t you coming? Or did you change your mind?”
“Oh, no.” Shen Luoxi snapped back to reality and stepped inside.
The elevator reached the basement. Their car was parked nearby, and Zhou Jing stepped out of the front passenger seat to open the door for them. Shen Luoxi sat in the far seat first to allow Pei Yu to get in and out more easily.
The meeting was held at the screenwriter’s studio rather than at the company. On the way, Zhou Jing briefed Pei Yu on the director, the screenwriter, and specific script details. With Shen Luoxi present, the other party likely wouldn’t raise many conditions; they knew an investment from the Shen family was a guaranteed win.
Pei Yu kept her head down, studying the script. She didn’t have the luxury of worrying about whether she was getting the role through her own merit—in this world, Shen Luoxi’s whims dictated reality. She chose to focus on the work.
Shen Luoxi sat beside her, sending a few messages on her phone. Once she received a reply, her brow relaxed.
“Teacher Pei,” Zhou Jing said from the front seat, “internal word is that if you sign on, they want to cast Su Ying for the other lead.”
“Su Ying?” Pei Yu repeated in surprise.
Shen Luoxi recognized the name from the book but couldn’t recall the details of such a minor character. She looked her up on her phone. Su Ying was a rising star who had debuted through an idol survival show. After her limited-time group disbanded, she moved into acting. She had played several small, notable roles but lacked a major hit. Casting her alongside a triple-crown winner like Pei Yu was clearly a move to “boost” her career.
Pei Yu looked up. “Let’s talk to them first. Su Ying is decent; I don’t have a problem with her.”
Shen Luoxi finished reading Su Ying’s profile. She had a good personality and solid acting skills. However, Shen Luoxi remembered a specific scene in the script: Su Ying’s character cornering Pei Yu in a hallway and forcing a kiss on her.
Suddenly, Shen Luoxi felt a wave of inexplicable discomfort. As an actress, kissing scenes were part of the job, but it was one thing to watch a movie and another when it involved her wife… her Pei Yu. The thought of that scene felt incredibly awkward. Can that kiss be deleted? she wondered.
“We’re here,” Zhou Jing announced as the car stopped.
Pei Yu closed her script and stepped out. As she leaned over to exit, her long hair brushed against her pale shoulder, a sight that seemed to tug at Shen Luoxi’s heartstrings.
Shen Luoxi cleared her throat awkwardly and followed her out.
The trio entered the studio. The space looked like a miniature library, filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves housing books on history, science, and literature.
“Teacher Pei, you’ve arrived,” a staff member greeted them.
“The director and screenwriter are studying the script on the second floor. This way, please.”
The wooden stairs creaked softly, emitting a faint, pleasant scent. Pei Yu, wearing heels, gripped the smooth railing for balance. Shen Luoxi followed closely behind, her eyes fixed on Pei Yu’s feet, ready to catch her if she slipped.