Su Yue, adorned in her costume, presented a vision of delicate beauty. Her upper body was encased in a raven-blue, stand-collar shirt, adorned with tiny, exquisite buttons shaped like two small bamboo leaves, meticulously crafted from coiled silk thread. The shirt, once perfectly tailored, now seemed to hug her figure more snugly, a subtle testament to the changes in her form. Yet, the cleverly designed slim waist on either side of her torso only served to accentuate her already slender waist, making it appear even more impossibly narrow.
Below, a plain white calf-length skirt billowed softly, embroidered with the same delicate bamboo leaf motif as the buttons. It was a picture of pure elegance, the dense stitches bringing the leaves to life with a vibrant, almost ethereal aura.
“Okay,” Su Yue announced, turning to face Jiang Ci. Her gaze immediately locked with his. The man who had vowed to keep his eyes closed now stared at her unabashedly , his eyes bright with an almost predatory obsession, like a wolf hungrily eyeing its prey. “I knew you weren’t honest,” she chided, a playful anger in her voice.
Jiang Ci fought to steady the frantic rhythm of his heart. His lips twitched, with a voice little hoarse as he drawled, “Xiao Yue’er, come here and give me a kiss.” It was the first time he had seen Su Yue so elegantly dressed, a girl so gentle and vibrant, beautiful as a fragile flower hidden deep within a valley. He found himself consumed by an overwhelming desire to possess her, to crush her close.
“Don’t cause trouble. The makeup artist is still waiting outside,” Su Yue warned, glancing towards the tent flap. Her body was acting strangely these days; she couldn’t risk him approaching her casually in public, or she’d make a fool of herself.
Jiang Ci felt an inexplicable itch in his bandaged hand. He wondered if his wounds were beginning to heal, or if it was simply a desperate longing to touch Su Yue. His lips pulled into a thin line, his eyes darkening. “Su Yue, don’t bully the disabled. This disabled man wants a kiss. Can you give it to me?”
Su Yue couldn’t help but laugh. “Disabled?” The very notion was absurd. When he was near her, he was quick to touch, agile and full of mischief. Still she obediently walked over, her soft, red lips pressing gently against the scar on the left side of his face. “Be good. I’ll call the makeup artist in.” After the brief kiss, she immediately retreated.
Jiang Ci’s gauze-wrapped fingers lightly brushed the scar on his face, a scoff escaping him. She was treating him like a child.
Once the makeup artist re-entered, she began Su Yue’s makeup. After more than a week, she noticed that Su Yue’s complexion seemed to have become even fairer, so smooth and tender that it felt almost a waste to apply anything. Nevertheless, she had to follow the director’s instructions. The makeup artist finally applied a layer of dark yellow foundation to Su Yue’s face, attempting to mask her radiant, natural complexion, and even added “plateau red” to her cheeks, hoping to temper the innate aura that emanated from her. Yet, it had to be admitted, even with her striking beauty deliberately subdued, Su Yue remained breathtaking.
Xu Shen, the male lead, was also present for his scenes. Originally, Chu Mengyun was supposed to act alongside him, but with her replacement, they could only film Xu Shen’s parts first and edit them in later. He politely greeted Su Yue, then nodded to Jiang Ci, who stood silently beside her, before heading off with his assistant for makeup.
“They’ll shoot my scenes first. You wait here for me, I’ll ace it in one take. It won’t take long,” Su Yue boasted to Jiang Ci. “You haven’t seen me film yet, so pay close attention. My acting is really good.”
Jiang Ci raised an eyebrow, keeping to himself the fact that Sheng Yan or Sheng Tian consistently recorded her filming sessions and sent them directly to his phone. He was well aware of her acting prowess.
The weather, which had been tempestuous, had finally cleared. According to the script, artificial rain would be used to simulate the scene’s grim atmosphere.
In the play, Ji Yao, clad in the beautiful dress her grandmother had personally sewn, yearned to celebrate Fang Licheng’s birthday with him. She cautiously made her way out the door. Before long, she encountered Aunt Fang at the edge of the village. “Oh, Yaoyao, you’re dressed so beautifully today!” Aunt Fang exclaimed, her voice a mix of admiration and pity. She couldn’t fathom why such a well-behaved, sensible girl would associate with Fang Licheng, who seemed to be a shiftless rascal.
“Today is Licheng’s birthday. I want to buy him a birthday cake,” Ji Yao explained. She had initially planned to bake one herself, but knew it wouldn’t taste good. So, she decided to buy him a cake to celebrate.
“Ah? Buy a cake for Fang Licheng?” Aunt Fang’s voice rose in surprise. “I just came down the mountain and saw him with Ms. Li Xiao, the teacher who came to our village. He was carrying his luggage, saying he was going to the city. Didn’t that boy tell you?”
Ji Yao’s face went blank, her dark eyes losing their focus. “When did he leave?”
“Just now.” Aunt Fang looked at Ji Yao’s suddenly pale face, shaking her head. Fang Licheng, that boy, was truly something else.
Ji Yao clutched the small purse in her hand, containing the money she had diligently saved from embroidering for others—money that meant for Fang Licheng’s cake. She gathered her skirt and hurried away, her pace quickening.
“Yaoyao, he’s far away! Stop chasing him! It’s going to rain today, don’t run around, it’s dangerous!” Aunt Fang called out to the retreating figure of Ji Yao, her voice filled with concern. Seeing the young girl stumble back, a pang of sadness pierced her. This child, even her playmate had left; she would be truly alone now.
The sky grew heavy, a misty drizzle began to fall, quickly intensifying into faster, stinging raindrops. Several villagers rushed home for shelter. Along the way, they spotted Ji Yao, staggering blindly through the downpour, groping for her path. From a distance, they shouted, urging her to go home. Ji Yao responded to no one. Fang Licheng had left without a word, about to depart with Li Xiao.
The raven-blue shirt clung to Ji Yao’s delicate form, the plain white skirt now soaked and clinging. Her dark hair plastered to her small face, making her look both helpless and pitiful. Since becoming blind, Ji Yao rarely left the house. She had long forgotten the familiar routes, and every stone on the road became a potential trip hazard, every branch a threat to scratch her face.
Standing on the set, Jiang Ci watched silently from the sidelines. He saw Su Yue being drenched, saw her fall, mud splattering across her face. His dark eyes narrowed, his hands clenched tightly, ignoring the fresh pain from his bandaged wounds. When he saw Su Yue’s eyes redden, and soft sobs escape her as she lay on the ground, he could no longer control himself. His face cold with fury, he strode towards Su Yue.
“Stop filming!” Jiang Ci commanded, his voice dark as he stood over Su Yue. He couldn’t bear to see her cry, especially not for another man, even if it was just acting. “Get up!” he growled, his brow furrowed fiercely at Su Yue, who lay in the mud.
Su Yue looked up in astonishment, her face streaked with rain and tears. “Jiang Ci?”
Jiang Ci bent down and lifted Su Yue from the ground, oblivious to the mud from her skirt staining his own clothes.
“Wait a minute, no!” Su Yue protested, kicking her feet, struggling to get free. She looked towards Director Guan. “Director, how was that take?”
Director Guan, who had been engrossed in the monitor, was momentarily startled when a tall figure inexplicably stormed into the frame. He was about to yell, but then he recognized the man as the investor, and quickly stifled his anger. He hadn’t realized the investor had any connection to Su Yue.
“It’s good,” Director Guan replied.
Su Yue let out a sigh of relief. “Aao, let me down. I’ll walk by myself. The camera’s off.”
Jiang Ci remained unmoving. Su Yue twisted his arm; his muscles were firm, and her fingertips ached. “Hurry up,” she urged. The entire crew was watching, and the strange sensations in her body were starting to emerge. She couldn’t let Jiang Ci hold her like this.
With pursed lips and dark eyes, Jiang Ci finally lowered Su Yue to the ground.
Su Yue walked over to Director Guan, reviewed the recent scenes, and, confirming everything was in order, bid him farewell. She then returned to Jiang Ci. “Let’s go. We need to go back and change.”
Jiang Ci looked at Su Yue, studying her expression. He had expected her to be angry that he had rushed in and interrupted the filming. What Jiang Ci didn’t know was that Su Yue understood his actions. She knew he must have been distressed seeing her fall and cry. In the past, whether she’d fallen off a horse during filming, bruised her waist, or gotten hurt from wirework, no one had cared about her pain, except for her assistant, who would ask a few extra questions and help apply medicated oil. Now, Jiang Ci loved her so much, cared for her so deeply, he couldn’t bear to see her tears. She felt only happiness. How could she possibly be angry with Jiang Ci?
Su Yue had originally planned to return to the tent to change her wet clothes, but Jiang Ci’s clothes were also soaked and muddy from her. There were no clothes for him in the dressing room, and Su Yue worried his injury would flare up again. So, she quickly returned to Granny Ping’s house with Jiang Ci.
Inside, with the door closed, Su Yue handed Jiang Ci his clothes. “Hurry up and change, or you’ll get inflamed again, and the fever will come back.”
Jiang Ci didn’t reach out to take them. “My hand hurts, I can’t change.” He held out his wet hands to Su Yue. From his earlier clenching, the white gauze was already soaked crimson with fresh blood, a clear sign the wound had reopened.
“It’s bleeding! How did you do this?” Su Yue frowned, her snow-white face etched with distress. “We’ll have to go to the hospital to change the dressing later.”
Jiang Ci seemed unconcerned. He gazed at Su Yue’s reddened eyes, still swollen from her on-screen tears, and slowly said, “I’m mad at you.” His eyes then dropped to her wet skirt, which clung tightly to her, revealing her curves, an unconscious allure. He let out a choked breath, his tone tinged with impatience. “Your clothes are ugly. Why aren’t you changing quickly?”
Su Yue glanced down at herself. Indeed, her raven-blue shirt was smeared with yellow mud, and her skirt was equally soiled. She truly didn’t look presentable. But her primary concern was Jiang Ci’s injury; how could she possibly focus on herself? As she approached him, the familiar strangeness in her body began to stir, but she pushed it aside, reaching out to help him change.
“lift your hand.”
“Don’t move, lift your feet.”
“Jiang Ci, control yourself…”
The corners of Jiang Ci’s lips curled. He lowered his eyes, observing her diligently helping him change, and sneered, “Su Yue, aren’t you shy now?”
Su Yue’s snow-white face was flushed. She tried to ignore the arrogant and embarrassing thoughts that had just flickered through her mind, and suppressed her growing urge to get closer to Jiang Ci. “Don’t talk. Turn around. I want to change clothes.” In the days Jiang Ci had a fever, she had wiped him down. After a few times, she had grown accustomed to it, and looking at his body no longer overwhelmed her as it once had.
Seeing that Jiang Ci had turned, Su Yue also turned her back to him, took off her soiled skirt, and put on a loose, smoky-gray knitted jumper with a wide neckline that gracefully exposed her delicate collarbone. She paired it with a white calf-length skirt, giving her an ethereal yet somewhat languid appearance.
Turning back around, Su Yue noticed that Jiang Ci hadn’t peeked this time; he had obediently kept his back to her. She walked over and rewarded him with a kiss on his thin lips. “Come on, let’s go to the hospital to change that dressing.”
However, at the hospital, just after the doctor finished changing Jiang Ci’s medicine, he received a call from City B: Jiang Haoyan was injured.
Both Jiang Ci and Su Yue’s faces fell. They immediately rushed into a car and sped towards the airport. The atmosphere in the car was heavy, laden with unspoken worry. Su Yue’s heart tightened at the thought of little Haohao being injured, and neither she nor Jiang Ci being by his side. She turned to look at Jiang Ci. His profile was sharp, handsome, yet etched with a chilling coldness. Though he remained silent, she knew Jiang Ci was deeply worried.
“He’s not my son,” Jiang Ci suddenly stated, breaking the tense silence.