After Being Bitten By Top-Tier O, Flop A Went Viral - Chapter 25

25: I Was Indeed Thinking of You

If the others in the classroom were politely choosing to silently watch, the barrage of comments had already gone into full swing.

Comment 1: Just when I think I’ve had enough sweetness, Qin Que always manages to surprise me with something new. What’s this about her coming here to learn how to date? Shouldn’t she be teaching us how to date?

Comment 2: Yan Qing, why are you smiling so happily? She’s completely obsessed with you—are you that pleased with yourself?

Comment 3: Qin Que, your life is over. The moment you met her, you were already lost. Your brain can only run one program now—Yan Qing. You’re doomed to become her plaything.

Comment 4: And you seem to be enjoying it, huh? I think she’s smiling even more happily than Yan Qing.

Comment 5: But it’s Yan Qing we’re talking about. Do we even have a chance to become her plaything?

Comment 6: Get in line with your number. Right now, we’re at No. 1,000,086. Maybe you’ll get your turn in the next life… or the one after that.

Before Dai Yuchen’s team began their turn, Mi Sike specifically emphasized that they couldn’t use the same words as the previous contestants—clearly to prevent these two from pulling the same stunt and tormenting the innocent bystanders.

Qin Que returned to Yan Qing’s side and noticed the other woman looking at her with a faintly amused smile. After checking herself over and finding nothing unusual, she finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

Yan Qing leaned in with a grin. “How did you come up with such a sneaky trick? Look how flustered they all are.”

Though she had immediately understood Qin Que’s meaning, she didn’t assume, like others, that Qin Que was deliberately flaunting their CP for the audience.

The woman didn’t have that kind of scheming mind. Besides, if she had genuinely meant it that way, her face would have turned red long ago—she wouldn’t be this composed.

“Well… because it was the most straightforward solution. I… I don’t know enough about you.” Qin Que admitted sheepishly, scratching her head. She had initially considered hinting at their scents, but worried it might be picked up by sharp-eyed viewers. Other clues, like food preferences, weren’t specific enough. But this word was direct—after all, she had been staring at Yan Qing the whole time. Yan Qing would definitely understand.

“Hmm?” Yan Qing narrowed her eyes, feigning disappointment. “So that’s all it was? I thought you really missed me—that you couldn’t bear to be apart for even a moment.”

Qin Que: “……”

Only now did she fully realize how shameless her earlier behavior must have seemed to outsiders. Her face burned as she lowered her head and muttered, “I was thinking of you, though.”

Yan Qing was right in front of her—who else would she be thinking about?

When no response came after a few seconds, Qin Que looked up to see Yan Qing rubbing her temples, looking torn between speechlessness and exasperation.

Was it her imagination, or were Yan Qing’s ears slightly red?

“Yan Qing…” She was about to ask when Yan Qing grabbed her chin and turned her face away.

“Maybe you should stop talking for now.” Yan Qing said, her voice tinged with annoyance—though not genuine anger. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose.”

The third group was Nie Sijun drawing for Dai Yuchen to guess. After much deliberation, Nie Sijun wrote on the board:

“Fated Love.”

Qin Que clearly heard Yan Qing scoff beside her.

Dai Yuchen hesitated before asking, “An engagement ring?”

Nie Sijun shook her head. Though her usual expression was melancholic, the light in her eyes dimmed further.

Dai Yuchen scratched his head impatiently and rapid-fired guesses: “A painting? Cake? Love letter? Or chocolate?”

Yan Yuzhen couldn’t help but comment, “How many people has he been ‘fated’ with? He’s guessed so many and still hasn’t gotten it?”

Nie Sijun, by this point, had completely given up. For the first time, she proactively ended the game and took the board from Mi Sike to show Dai Yuchen.

On it were two simple words:

“Rainy Night.”

She remembered it clearly.

Back then, she had just finished filming an emotionally draining arthouse movie, her mind filled with surreal, fragmented thoughts. Medication could alleviate the symptoms but also left her perpetually exhausted.

Terrified of this state and unwilling to rely on pills, she took on a new project, hoping a change of pace would help.

That film was directed by Dai Yuchen. From the moment she joined the crew, he had pursued her relentlessly. Unlike now, the Dai Yuchen of that time was more attentive and considerate than anyone else in her life.

But she hadn’t been moved at first—nor did she have the energy to entertain him. She could only avoid him as much as possible.

Until that rainy night.

Most of the crew had left, but she stayed behind for a night shoot.

A sudden downpour disrupted filming. Everyone scrambled for shelter, but she found the sensation of rain against her skin strangely soothing. Ignoring her assistant’s calls, she stood alone in the rain, letting it wash over her weary soul.

That was when Dai Yuchen approached her—without an umbrella.

He gazed at her gently and said just one sentence:

“You must be exhausted.”

Nie Sijun remembered it vividly because, in the countless days and nights of her marriage, she had to replay those rare moments of tenderness to keep herself from breaking down.

She often felt that was the beginning of losing everything—except Dai Yuchen.

Including her friendship with Yan Qing.

When news of her engagement broke, Yan Qing, who was filming abroad, flew back overnight just to meet her and beg her not to marry Dai Yuchen.

It was the first time Nie Sijun had seen Yan Qing so serious. Before, Yan Qing had always smiled and called her “Sister Nie,” and she had genuinely adored this friend three years her junior. Unlike her own brooding nature, Yan Qing possessed a strength and vitality she could only envy.

But she hadn’t listened.

Even when Yan Qing laid out the fates of Dai Yuchen’s dozen-plus ex-girlfriends in front of her, she had only said, “He treats me well. I believe he’s changed.”

Perhaps, by then, she had already latched onto Dai Yuchen as her only lifeline—the sole person who seemed to understand her.

People shouldn’t pin their hopes on others. So all of this is what I deserve.

She would never forget the look in Yan Qing’s eyes when she left that day—a mix of sorrow and resignation, as if she no longer recognized her.

Yan Qing had said, “I hope you’re right. But if you ever need help, call me anytime.”

Nie Sijun never did.

In fact, she deliberately ignored many of Yan Qing’s invitations afterward. Because every time she saw Yan Qing on screen—still as radiant as ever—she was reminded of those sorrowful eyes.

As a friend, Yan Qing had done more than enough.

How could she bear to trouble her again?

And now, she couldn’t even bring herself to keep lying.

Dai Yuchen was still rambling excuses, likely feeling guilty for once—because aside from the engagement ring, none of the things he listed had ever happened between them.

Nie Sijun couldn’t even muster the energy to argue. She simply said, “I know,” because she knew it would shut him up faster.

All she wanted was silence.

In the end, Qin Que and Yan Qing guessed their word the fastest. Without hesitation, they chose dramatic performance as their reward, only for Mi Sike to pull out a script from the desk drawer with a sly smile.

“Here’s your script.”

“Aren’t we supposed to pick our own scene?” Qin Que’s heart sank as she took the script and read the bold black title on the white cover:

“The Warrior vs. The Dragon.”

Her hand twitched, nearly dropping the script.

Even for high schoolers, this script was too childish.

“Wait,” Yan Qing, ever composed, skimmed the script and asked Mi Sike, “There are more than two characters in here, right? How are we supposed to perform it with just the two of us?”

“That’s part of the challenge,” Mi Sike replied cheerfully. “You’re both professional actors. Even if you have to play multiple roles, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Easy for her to say.

Twenty minutes later, the two pushed open the door to the storage room. Since they were performing a fairy-tale-style play, they’d need at least some basic props. Mi Sike had assured them they’d find useful items here.

The storage room had clearly been tidied up by the crew—cluttered but not dirty.

“King, warrior, dragon, princess—four characters in total,” Yan Qing flipped through the script. “The lines are short, so it shouldn’t be hard. But since the princess has to play both the king and the dragon, we can’t split the roles evenly. Which one do you want?”

“Either is fine. You pick first.” Qin Que rummaged through a drawer and pulled out two boxes of crayons. “We can probably use these as props.”

“Then I’ll be the warrior.” Yan Qing grabbed a wooden baseball bat from behind the door and swung it at Qin Que like a sword. “Surrender, dragon! I am the greatest swordsman in the kingdom!”

After delivering the line, she mused, “That sounds both ridiculously chuunibyou and like something a cannon fodder character would say. Was this script written by a kid for a school project?”

Qin Que stifled a laugh and raised her hands. “Spare me, great warrior! I don’t even have hands to surrender with.”

If she was a dragon, shouldn’t it be claws?

The two stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, taking a while to calm down and focus on prop-making.

The baseball bat Yan Qing had picked could easily be turned into a warrior’s sword with some paint. They found an old banner, cut out a blank section to serve as the warrior’s cape, and improvised the rest with crayons and cardboard.

Qin Que handled the cutting and assembly while Yan Qing took charge of coloring. The storage room was soon filled with the sound of scissors snipping away.

“Feels like we’re doing arts and crafts,” Qin Que remarked as she handed Yan Qing a freshly cut crown. She noticed the other woman frowning intently as she painted the warrior’s sword—anyone seeing the serious expression on the award-winning actress’s face would think she was contemplating something profound.

Qin Que watched for a long time. She loved seeing Yan Qing’s curiosity about the world. Even the most mundane things became fascinating when Yan Qing was involved.

After finishing the crown and running out of things to paint, Yan Qing finally glanced at Qin Que—only to find the alpha staring at her with a gaze so tender it could make any young girl’s heart flutter.

Without a word, Yan Qing picked up the crown and plopped it onto Qin Que’s head. The lopsided, golden cardboard crown sat crookedly atop the alpha’s head, paired with Qin Que’s bewildered expression—equal parts ridiculous and adorable.

Yan Qing laughed for a good while before managing to deliver her line:

“Oh, my dear king! When will the dragon’s claws be ready?”

Qin Que, still smiling, took off the crown, her face flushed as she replied, “Great warrior, I’m working on them now. Please be patient.”

Two hours later, they had finally finished all their props.

As Qin Que organized the leftover cardboard, she heard a low growl behind her.

She turned to see Yan Qing already wearing the dragon’s head and claws, peering at her through the lopsided nostrils of the makeshift mask. Hunched over in a dragon-like stance, Yan Qing let out another menacing roar.

Her acting was impeccable. Qin Que had no doubt that, with proper special effects, Yan Qing could convincingly play a dragon.

The problem was, their props were too crude.

This lopsided, derpy-looking dragon didn’t seem particularly intelligent.

Qin Que averted her gaze, afraid she’d laugh if she kept looking.

But Yan Qing was fully committed now. The ridiculous dragon head inched closer, and she growled playfully:

“Rawr!”

At this point, the only option was to play along.

At this moment, Yan Qing was completely addicted to the game. Her foolish yet somewhat comical dragon face leaned in close to Qin Que and roared, “Evil dragon’s roar!”

Qin Que grabbed the hero’s sword lying nearby, threw the cape around her neck, and pointed the sword at Yan Qing. But she struggled to come up with a move name, stammering, “Take this—my, my, my… Dynamic… Dynamic Light Wave?”

The evil dragon immediately collapsed, laughing so hard that the headpiece fell off.

Qin Que finally broke character too. If anyone had passed by the storage room at that moment, they would have witnessed a bizarre scene—the evil dragon and the hero sitting across from each other, shaking with laughter.

To an outsider, it might have looked like they were preparing for a wedding ceremony.