Filming had finally wrapped, and after a few days of much-needed rest, Su Yue returned to the university campus.
“Xiao Xue hasn’t been to school lately,” Jin Mingyuan remarked as she walked alongside Su Yue.
The university had intervened to suppress the rumors surrounding Xu Xue, launching an investigation into the source of the leak. It was discovered that Gu Chengfeng’s new girlfriend was behind it. Jin Mingyuan knew of her; she was the daughter of the He family—fiercely possessive and notoriously jealous. Even though Xu Xue was merely an ex who had once borne Gu Chengfeng’s child, she remained a target of He Yuanyuan’s spite regardless.
Jin Mingyuan secretly thought He Yuanyuan was utterly blind; she couldn’t fathom what anyone saw in a zha nan [渣男 – Literally ‘dregs of a man,’ a slang term for a scumbag or player] like Gu Chengfeng.
“Mm,” Su Yue replied noncommittally. She couldn’t spare a shred of concern for Xu Xue.
Noticing Su Yue’s indifferent attitude, Jin Mingyuan wisely dropped the subject. Regardless of whether Xu Xue had truly tried to seduce Jiang Ci, the fact that she had immediately suspected Su Yue of spreading the rumors was heartbreaking. It proved that years of friendship were, in her eyes, worth nothing at all.
“By the way, Yueyue, I saw online that you’ve been turning down all ad offers. Is that true?” While other actors were practically begging for sponsorships, Su Yue seemed to be rejecting everything—even script offers. Jin Mingyuan found her friend’s lack of hustle baffling.
“I only ever planned to do Director Guan’s drama. As for anything else, I want to take a breather,” Su Yue explained. In her past life, she had stayed in the industry to survive and not because she loved the craft. Now, with such immense wealth at her disposal, the drive to grind herself down had vanished. “I don’t want a life of endless commercials and back-to-back gigs. That’s just not my path.”
“Ah, Yueyue, if other starlets heard you, they’d be green with envy and hate you to death!” Jin Mingyuan reached out to pinch Su Yue’s increasingly fair and delicate cheek. “With a face like yours, if you had an ounce of ambition, you could absolutely dominate the industry.”
Su Yue brushed her hand away with a playful glance. “I don’t need to rely on my looks. I can dominate through acting alone.”
“True, true! Your performance is absolutely crushing those xiao hua [小花 – ‘Little Flowers,’ a term for young, popular actresses]!” Jin Mingyuan often scoured the web for Su Yue’s clips. Her acting was impeccable, silencing the netizens who had once accused her of hiring shui jun [水军 – ‘Water Army,’ paid internet trolls or ghostwriters used to inflate someone’s reputation] to fake her talent. “When the movie premieres, I’m booking a hundred screenings just for you!”
Su Yue smiled, though the mention of screenings reminded her of a recent conversation with Jiang Ci. When she had teased him about how many screenings he would buy, the man had merely tilted his chin with an arrogant chuckle. He claimed he wanted to book every theater nationwide—not to support the film, but because he didn’t want so many people looking at her. His extravagant possessiveness had astonished her. It took all of Su Yue’s persuasive “charms” and several sweet promises to finally talk him down from monopolizing the national box office.
Meanwhile, on the neighboring film set, Jiang Xuan’s condition was deteriorating. Ever since Su Yue had appeared nearby, Jiang Xuan had been trapped in a dazed, terrible state that lasted until Su Yue’s production wrapped.
Lacking formal training, Jiang Xuan was forced to reshoot her scenes daily. Resulting in the crew’s resentment , especially as they watched Su Yue’s team finish their work with high efficiency every day. If it weren’t for Jiang Xuan’s gentle personality and the frequent treats she bought for the staff, the simmering grievances would have boiled over long ago.
In the break room, her agent, Sister Fang, was losing patience. “Xiao Xuan, what is wrong with you? Director Wu is losing his temper. You worked so hard for this lead role; stop being so distracted!”
“Sister Fang, I’m sorry… I’ve just been so tired lately,” Jiang Xuan murmured. A heavy weight pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. “I’ll try to adjust.”
“Tired? You haven’t had any other engagements!” the agent snapped, trying to snap her out of it. “The luxury brand Siya was originally interested in you, but they’ve changed their minds. They found a ‘more suitable’ candidate.”
Jiang Xuan felt a pang of loss. She had been desperate for that global ambassadorship; it was a career-defining move that even top-tier celebrities fought for. “Who did they choose?” she asked softly.
“Su Yue. Your sister-in-law.” Sister Fang sighed. Su Yue seemed to be Jiang Xuan’s nemesis; every time they crossed paths, Jiang Xuan was the one who lost. “She has unlimited potential. Even as a newcomer, she’s already secured a global contract with a major house.”
Jiang Xuan bit her lip, her heart a tangled mess of complex emotions. It was Su Yue again. This time, she didn’t feel “kind” enough to forgive. She thought of her mother-in-law, Song Xiaoqing’s recent ultimatum: the Jiang family couldn’t have two daughters-in-law in the limelight. Since Su Yue was disobedient and refused to quit, Song Xiaoqing expected the “obedient” Jiang Xuan to step down instead. This looming threat was the true reason she couldn’t find her character on set.
“Sister Xiao Xuan, someone is outside to see you,” a staff member interrupted. “She said her name is Song Nianyue.”
Jiang Xuan was startled. She remembered Song Nianyue—a younger relative of her mother-in-law who had stayed at the Jiang house for a while. She hadn’t seen her in ages. Curious and needing a break, Jiang Xuan stood up to meet her.
Song Nianyue sat in the lounge, her trembling fingertips finally warming as she sipped her tea. When Jiang Xuan entered, still clad in her delicate, white ancient-style costume, Song Nianyue scrutinized her. She had always despised Jiang Xuan’s “soft” personality—the original female lead of the book who was too weak to retaliate when bullied.
“What do you need?” Jiang Xuan asked.
“Please, sit,” Song Nianyue said with an air of unearned authority. She didn’t respect Jiang Xuan. After all, if Jiang Xuan were truly “kind,” she wouldn’t have schemed to marry the male lead, Jiang Muhang, while pushing Su Yue to marry the “villain” Jiang Ci in her place.
“I won’t beat around the bush,” Song Nianyue said. Ever since Jiang Ci had decimated her family’s business, her life had plummeted. Her father had cut her credit cards, and her dreams of the dance competition were dead. “You must hate Su Yue as much as I do, right.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jiang Xuan replied, frowning.
“Oh, please. She’s suppressing you at every turn. Don’t tell me you aren’t angry.”
“I have scenes to film. Excuse me.” Jiang Xuan turned to leave, but Song Nianyue’s next words stopped her cold.
“You don’t need to pretend with me, Jiang Xuan. I know your secret.” Song Nianyue smiled confidently. “You were chong sheng [重生 – Reborn; a common trope where a character dies and returns to their past to change their fate].”
Jiang Xuan whipped her head around, her face draining of color. “I… I don’t understand.”
“In your previous life, you didn’t marry Jiang Muhang,” Song Nianyue continued, savoring the shock in Jiang Xuan’s eyes. “In this life, you were supposed to be the winner. You were supposed to be the Best Actress. But then you met Su Yue. Who is from the start is suppressing all your luck.”
The secret Jiang Xuan had hidden from everyone—even her husband—was laid bare by Song Nianyue . Panic surged through her. “Who are you? How could you possibly know?”
“How I know isn’t important. What matters is that we share a goal. I want Su Yue gone, and you want your life back.”
Jiang Xuan lowered her eyes, masking the storm within. “What are you suggesting?”
“Without Su Yue, no one will ever surpass you again. So… help me get rid of her.”
Back at the villa, Su Yue had recently discovered that Jiang Ci was becoming quite “creative” in his affections. Ever since the hammock incident at his old rooftop base, he seemed to have developed an obsession. He had even installed a new one in their master bedroom—bigger, wider, and much softer.
He had “invited” her onto it several times already.
When Jiang Ci finally lifted her off the swaying mesh, Su Yue’s limbs were weak and aching. She glared at him, her dark eyes watery and shimmering with a silent protest against his relentless energy.
Lying on the bed, she felt the soreness in her back finally begin to ease. Jiang Ci settled beside her, looking thoroughly satisfied. He placed a large, warm hand on her soft belly, massaging it with surprising gentleness.
“Little Yue’er,” he murmured, his voice deep and rich. “Do you think our daughter is coming this time?”
Su Yue blinked. The thought hadn’t really crossed her mind, but neither of them had been using protection. “I don’t know,” she whispered, turning to look at him with a soft, bright smile. “It could be another son.”
Jiang Ci’s handsome brows furrowed slightly at the thought of another little troublemaker competing for her attention. He gave a firm, stubborn hum. “No. It’s definitely a daughter!”
Author’s Note: Jiang Chou Chou [A playful nickname for Jiang Ci, often implying he’s ‘smelly’ or a ‘brat’ in a cute way]: I want a daughter! I really, really want a daughter!
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