After Being Bitten By Top-Tier O, Flop A Went Viral - Chapter 27

27: The Imbalanced Bad Mood

“Still not working.”

After the third rehearsal of the final scene, Qin Que sat up dejectedly.

After Yan Qing’s reminder, she had started paying deliberate attention to her physical state, hoping to relax.

But no matter how hard she tried, the moment Yan Qing’s presence drew near, all her efforts collapsed. Her body tensed up instantly, like a machine on full alert—completely beyond her mental control.

“Hmm, this really is a problem.” Yan Qing rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought.

The success of this play largely depended on their acting. If two professional actors couldn’t even handle this, it would be laughable.

“I’m sorry.” The alpha on the table hung her head low. Yan Qing could almost picture the flattened airplane ears pressed tightly against her scalp.

It wasn’t entirely her fault—maybe it was because of the mark.

She was truly terrible. Yan Qing had emphasized repeatedly that she wouldn’t actually kiss her, so why was she still so nervous?

Just as Qin Que was drowning in self-blame, someone suddenly ruffled her hair, forcibly interrupting her thoughts.

“In that case, how about we switch roles?” She looked up and met Yan Qing’s gentle, smiling eyes. There wasn’t a trace of reproach in them. “If you take control of the scene as the hero, you probably won’t be as tense.”

“But… didn’t you want to play the hero?” Qin Que hesitated. She didn’t want to inconvenience Yan Qing because of her own shortcomings.

“I’ve already had my fun. Come on, we don’t have much rehearsal time left.” Yan Qing pulled her off the table and shoved the hero’s sword into her hands before hopping onto the table herself. “You remember the earlier lines, right? Let’s start directly from the final scene.”

—

The hero enters the cave and discovers the unconscious princess.

Qin Que walked to the wooden table and gazed at the unconscious figure lying there.

Yan Qing’s body was relaxed, her expression serene, her breathing slow and steady. Even with that ridiculous crown and school uniform, she looked every bit like the sleeping beauty from fairy tales, waiting for her prince’s kiss.

Qin Que’s eyes lingered on her lips—soft, pink, trembling slightly with each breath, like peach petals swaying in the spring breeze.

In her dreams, she had kissed them many times. Even in the haze of unconsciousness, the sensation was intoxicating.

But now, she was filled with trepidation—not for herself, but for the role.

Did the “hero” really have the right to do this?

The hilt of the sword pressed into her palm. Using it for support, she slowly leaned down.

She wasn’t tense anymore, but the expression on her face was far from resolute.

If anything, it was sorrowful. Guilty.

Yan Qing’s face grew larger in her vision, and everything else seemed to fade away. Qin Que’s world narrowed to just the sleeping woman.

Still unaware, still waiting for salvation.

Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Her lips brushed past the woman’s cheek, landing on the soft strands of hair near her ear.

From a distance, no one would doubt that they had kissed.

The narrator’s voice rang out.

“The princess was awakened by the hero’s kiss.”

Qin Que straightened up and took a small step back.

Yan Qing slowly opened her eyes and sat up on the table.

Her gaze truly resembled someone waking from a long slumber—first dazed and unfocused, then gradually sharpening until the hero’s figure was clearly reflected in them.

A look of joy spread across her face.

“Was it you who saved me?”

The hero didn’t need to say anything else. Qin Que nodded.

“Thank you! You are the bravest person in the kingdom!”

Yan Qing jumped off the table and grabbed her hand, pressing it to her chest.

Qin Que could feel the warmth of her skin through the school uniform and the delicate texture of her palm.

The princess’s face was full of admiration and love.

This was the final image of the story. All that remained was the last line of narration.

“The hero and the princess returned to the kingdom and lived happily ever after.”

But Qin Que never heard that line.

Yan Qing released her hand and instead cupped her chin.

Frowning, her eyes filled with skepticism, she asked, “Why do you look like that?”

Qin Que: “…?”

She stared back blankly. Yan Qing raised an eyebrow and tapped her finger between Qin Que’s brows.

The cool touch lingered for only a second. Qin Que covered her forehead and retreated, realizing she had been frowning the entire time.

Now she understood without Yan Qing having to explain. What kind of hero would wear such an expression after slaying the dragon and winning the beauty?

“Sorry.” She could only apologize. She had ruined it again, wasting Yan Qing’s brilliant performance.

But Yan Qing didn’t seem inclined to scold her. Instead, she looked at her calmly. “It’s the same reason you struggle with romantic scenes, isn’t it?”

Qin Que didn’t answer, merely averting her gaze and nodding slightly.

But she didn’t know how to explain her feelings to Yan Qing. The other woman was a top-tier actress—she might even find these thoughts unprofessional.

Unexpectedly, Yan Qing voiced exactly what was on her mind. “Even in a simple fairy tale, you feel the princess shouldn’t fall in love with the hero so carelessly, right?”

Qin Que’s eyes widened. For a moment, she wondered if Yan Qing could read minds. “Y-yes. After all, they’ve only just met…”

Even if he saved her life, that was the hero’s duty. Why should the princess have to devote her entire life to him?

“What if the hero was some drooling idiot with boils on his head? The princess’s standards couldn’t possibly be that low, could they?” Yan Qing grinned, finishing the unspoken thought for her.

“Mhm.” Qin Que couldn’t help but laugh, though her expression remained guilty, as if she had done something wrong. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Don’t be like that.” Yan Qing couldn’t stand her pitifully obedient demeanor and lightly bonked her head with a rolled-up script. “An actor’s personal values will always influence their understanding of a role. That’s normal. It just means you’re very cautious about love—not a bad thing.”

Too cautious.

She didn’t voice the rest. In truth, she had found it odd when watching Qin Que’s past dramas. Nowadays, scripts varied wildly in quality, and Qin Que, unlike her, couldn’t pick and choose what she wanted to perform. Many of the plots she acted in—not just romantic ones, but also those involving family and friendship—had forced, illogical resolutions.

Yet Qin Que had performed them all flawlessly—except for the romantic scenes.

If Qin Que truly judged roles solely based on her own values, she shouldn’t have been able to perform those either.

Unless she had experienced some deep trauma in this area, something that had left an indelible mark on her subconscious, something she couldn’t defy.

When they first met, how had a straightforward person like Qin Que immediately recognized those people’s malicious intentions?

Unless she had witnessed the horrors of omega-inducing drugs firsthand.

A shadow flickered through Yan Qing’s eyes, but she didn’t press Qin Que further.

If she wanted to know something, she could investigate it herself. There was no need to reopen old wounds.

Meanwhile, Qin Que just stared at her blankly, likely unaware of the whirlwind of thoughts in Yan Qing’s mind. Her lips trembled slightly before she finally managed a soft “Thank you.”

Tch. The thought of someone bullying this honest kid is really pissing me off.

“Normally, in cases like this, we’d just refine the script—like establishing that the princess and hero were childhood sweethearts who were already in love,” Yan Qing redirected her focus to the matter at hand, flipping through the thin script. “But obviously, we don’t have time for that now.”

“Then what do we do?” Qin Que grew anxious. She was even more invested now than Yan Qing, after all, it would be a shame if Yan Qing’s stellar performance was dragged down by her.

“Well, there’s a little trick we can try. Want to give it a shot?” Yan Qing’s lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“Wh-what is it?” Qin Que felt a twinge of foreboding but asked anyway.

Yan Qing smiled sweetly at her, her red lips parting as she uttered:

“Do you want to marry me?”

Qin Que: “……Huh?”

The question was so absurd that her first reaction wasn’t even embarrassment—just pure confusion.

“It’s always easier to act when you ground it in reality,” Yan Qing mused, thoroughly enjoying her reaction. “Just imagine this: we fell in love during the dating show, and not long after, we got married. How would you feel then?”

“N-no, that’s too…” Qin Que wanted to say that this hypothetical was just as absurd as the princess falling for the hero at first sight, but her brain automatically conjured up the scenario anyway—and, predictably, her face burned red.

But she wasn’t frowning anymore. In fact, though she’d never admit it, there was a hint of joy in her expression.

How improper. We’ve only known each other for a few days.

Yan Qing was thoroughly amused by her reaction, studying her face with delight. Qin Que, unable to bear it, covered her face like a socially anxious introvert dodging a camera.

“That expression of yours right now is perfect. Remember this feeling—it shouldn’t be too hard to replicate, right? Just hold it for a dozen seconds, and we’re golden.” Yan Qing finally took pity on her, flicking her forehead lightly. “Don’t overthink it. It’s all for the sake of acting.”

“Mm.” Qin Que lowered her hands and nodded slightly. Yan Qing had practically held her hand and walked her through solving the problem. If she still couldn’t get it right, she’d be hopeless.

But at the same time, she felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy.

She stared into Yan Qing’s smiling eyes—bright and guileless, filled with nothing but guidance for a junior and amusement at an interesting situation.

How could Yan Qing say these things so casually? How many people had she said them to before?

It seemed like Qin Que was the only one flustered and nervous.

Was this a gap in professionalism, or just a difference in personality?

“Well, I wanted to do one last rehearsal, but it looks like we’re out of time.” Yan Qing checked her phone, removed her prop crown, and grabbed Qin Que’s hand. “Let’s go eat.”

Qin Que barely tasted her lunch, her mind entirely occupied by the upcoming play and the illusory future Yan Qing had forcibly implanted in her head.

After lunch, everyone gathered in the classroom again. The desks had been pushed to the sides, leaving the center open as a stage. The first to perform were Yan Yuzhen and Jin Shuo.

The two had somehow procured a flickering floor lamp, and with the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed, the entire room’s attention was naturally drawn to the stage illuminated by the erratic glow.

Both had shed their school uniforms, their fitted T-shirts outlining their youthful, healthy figures—Yan Yuzhen in white, Jin Shuo in black. As the intense, rhythmic music started, the two moved like magnets with shifting polarities, alternately repelling and attracting each other. Every motion was like a thread pulling the other along, their gazes locked in a battle for dominance.

Qin Que watched as Jin Shuo’s hand traveled from Yan Yuzhen’s ankle to her neck, gripping it firmly and forcing the girl to meet her eyes.

The usual gloom in Jin Shuo’s expression was gone. Her dark eyes burned with intensity, her lips curled in a predatory smirk, like a beast about to devour its prey.

Yan Yuzhen, too, was nothing like her usual bubbly self. Her expression hovered between playful and pitiful—both the prey begging for mercy and the hunter who had laid the trap long ago.

The song was in a foreign language Qin Que didn’t understand, but the performance alone told her it probably wasn’t child-friendly.

This was her first time seeing an idol performance up close. She sucked in a sharp breath. “They’re amazing.”

Yan Qing chuckled softly beside her. “Right? They’re the best idols.”

Qin Que glanced at Yan Qing. The woman wore a faint smile, watching the two on stage with a knowing look.

The same look she gave Qin Que when she was being shy.

You’re the best actress too.

Qin Que turned back to the stage, her focus wavering.

Actually, she had noticed earlier—Yan Yuzhen’s expression right now somewhat resembled Yan Qing’s.

Not exactly the same, but there was a similar confidence, that certainty that the other person would follow their lead and step right into the trap.

But Yan Yuzhen’s gaze was too direct, too blatant. Her eyes were fixed solely on Jin Shuo, demanding a response.

Yan Qing, however, was always ambiguous, elusive—even purely indifferent, never laced with the kind of temptation that could be mistaken for something more.

Like a cat that casually brushes against someone’s leg but walks away the moment they try to pet it, utterly unconcerned with their feelings.

After all, there were far too many people who loved cats. Even with treats in hand, you might not even make the waiting list.

The dance ended with their faces frozen close together, as if on the verge of a kiss.

Qin Que watched as their expressions gradually cooled, the light in Jin Shuo’s eyes dimming.

The stage was over. Just like this dating show, everything would eventually come to an end.

The audience erupted in applause, and outside the classroom, the popularity of Livestream #1 unexpectedly caught up to Livestream #2.

Comment #1: A once-in-a-lifetime moment! The instant-noodle couple is back together! Rejoice!

Comment #2: Not sure if I should say this, but were those two making love with their eyes on stage?

Comment #3: I hereby order the “Fate’s Arrangement” production team to release the clips immediately! I need to watch this a hundred times!

Comment #4: Same old flavor, same old chemistry. I knew you hadn’t forgotten! Neither have I!

Comment #5: Why pretend you’re strangers? You’re a match made in heaven—locked in, and I’ve swallowed the key!

Comment #6: Don’t let go of her hand! Where’s the superglue? Stick them together—no letting go!

Comment #7: Qin Que looks so distracted. Doesn’t seem like she’s really watching.

Comment #8: Probably getting a taste of her own medicine. What goes around comes around~

Comment #9: Don’t get too cocky. It’s their turn next—weddings, passionate love, the hero’s kiss… I don’t even dare imagine how intense it’ll be.

After a quick set change, Qin Que and Yan Qing began their performance.

From the moment Yan Qing made her entrance as the dragon, Qin Que—serving as the narrator—noticed the same reaction from everyone in the room.

They wanted to laugh. They tried to hold it in. They failed. At the very least, they managed not to burst out loud.

Every face twitched violently, as if they had all coordinated it.

But Yan Qing on stage remained completely unfazed, roaring and destroying the makeshift castle like a true dragon.

So Qin Que didn’t let herself get distracted either. Even when she heard Yan Yuzhen’s poorly suppressed giggles as she donned the princess crown and rushed onstage, she didn’t falter.

Yan Qing was still acting. She couldn’t afford to drag her down.

Slowly, the audience stopped laughing.

The shoddy props and set could only provide momentary amusement. Once that passed, the audience could finally appreciate their earnest performance.

The dragon collapsed with a mournful wail, and Qin Que’s greatest worry finally arrived.

She steeled herself, using every ounce of her skill to appear solemn and righteous.

At the very least, don’t frown.

She approached Yan Qing’s prone form and slowly leaned down.

The woman’s expression was as serene as during rehearsals.

Their breaths mingled, the scent of wine enveloping her.

She was the only one drowning in it.

The thunderous pounding of her heart was hers alone to hear.

Those pink lips were right before her. A single thought flashed through her mind.

She didn’t know if it was the mark’s side effect or just her own imbalanced bad mood.

If I really kissed her…

Would Yan Qing still be as calm as she is now?