After Filming A Lesbian Movie With The Straight Girl I Like - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Flirting the Moment You Open Your Eyes

Xu Ling washed her face, wiping away the tears she’d shed from reading the novel.
Seriously, why did the author have to write it so well? Even someone like her—who’s never had an ex—felt like she could completely relate.

She came out of the bathroom and saw Qin Cong’an leaning against the doorframe, waiting for her.

“Why didn’t you go down first?” Xu Ling asked.

Qin Cong’an didn’t answer, just curved her lips into a smile.

Xu Ling immediately felt a chill run down her spine. “What’s going on?”

“…Nothing.” Qin Cong’an opened the door and walked out, rubbing her face.
Was her smile really that unnatural?

Every director she had worked with, awards show juries, and even internet commenters all said her acting was natural—she had great control over her expressions and body language.
Never overdone, never underwhelming.

She could analyze a character’s psychology with an outsider’s perspective and deliver a precise performance. But when it came to her own emotions… she completely flopped?

Qin Cong’an had thought it through while Xu Ling was washing her face:
The fact that Xu Ling couldn’t forget her ex was undeniable. Getting angry over it wasn’t going to help. Acting cold would only push her further away.

If she wanted Xu Ling to forget her ex, she needed to replace those memories—with new, better ones.

That’s why she smiled like that when Xu Ling came out.

But apparently, she hadn’t quite managed to hide her frustration and jealousy over Xu Ling crying because of a “second-chance romance” novel.
Instead, she just ended up scaring the girl.

Xu Ling really was startled. She’d never seen Qin Cong’an smile like that before—it was a pure kind of joy, the kind that made the tip of her nose crinkle, like a child seeing a beloved toy.

And soon, she realized why Qin Cong’an had smiled at her like that.

Today, they weren’t filming a burial scene. Instead, they were shooting a dream sequence in a forest.
Well—“forest” was a stretch. It was sparse and bleak. And “dream” didn’t quite capture it either.

It was almost the final scene of the film. The two characters drove to an unnamed location, down a wide, empty road flanked by camphor trees.

Sometimes Wen Xi drove. Sometimes Jian Yu did.
They blasted music—death metal, Jian Yu’s choice—but neither of them liked it, so they listened while plugging their ears and laughing.
Other times, they played serene or classical music—gentle piano melodies, the occasional sudden burst of strings.

They parked by the roadside, caught a wild rabbit nearby, roasted it, and then sat silently staring at the flickering embers in the wind.

Tonight’s scene was a big challenge for both actors.

Jian Yu had already killed the man who murdered her parents. What now?
Should she keep being a killer alongside Wen Xi? She had no future, no purpose. It was like living itself no longer had meaning.

Wen Xi had lost an arm. Being an assassin now would be nearly impossible. But what else could she do? It was her only skill.
Still, she had Jian Yu.

Jian Yu seemed to be spiraling into emptiness, and Wen Xi was caught in the storm of her emotions.

Chang Ning smiled and said, “You’re both dead.”

The script was clear—the two protagonists died at the end. How wasn’t important, and it wasn’t going to be shown. Death was more of a feeling.

They were simply on the road now—clean, whole, unblemished.
Their fuel tank would never run dry, they’d meet no one else, only each other and the music. They laughed and talked like nothing mattered.

Chang Ning said, “Just relax. It’s like you’re free now, like you’ve entered heaven. Got it?”

Xu Ling kind of understood. And now, she understood why Qin Cong’an had smiled at her like that—she was already getting into character.

That bright, carefree smile, without a trace of baggage, directed at someone you liked—that’s what Wen Xi was supposed to show Jian Yu.

In this scene, both Wen Xi and Jian Yu were already dead.
They’d shed everything from their past—their careers, relationships, responsibilities.
They were like two carefree little forest spirits who’d just popped into existence.

Driving through a twilight world, filled with laughter and music, they kept glancing at each other, their clear eyes locking again and again.

During the rehearsal, Chang Ning wasn’t satisfied. She frowned.
“You’re both not quite in the state I want. Pretend you’re brand new to this world. And your companion is the only other person like you.”

Xu Ling glanced at Qin Cong’an. She’d been in the right state earlier—why was she struggling now?

“Talk it over between yourselves,” Chang Ning said. “No rush. We’ll take our time.”
But her tone said she was rushing.

The two of them took the script into the car to try and find the rhythm.

Xu Ling wasn’t sure how to “find it.” She just read Jian Yu’s lines, hummed along to the songs in the script, and tried to settle into the mood.

Qin Cong’an was quiet for a long time, then finally said, “It’s like a first love.”

“Oh, yeah,” Xu Ling nodded. First love… She hadn’t even had one yet.
“But isn’t first love kind of bittersweet? Their mood here isn’t bitter at all.”

“True,” Qin Cong’an glanced at her. Bittersweet, huh? Yeah, it really was.

Chang Ning threw them a tablet. It was a cartoon—about a little girl going on an adventure.
“Like this kind of feeling,” she said.

They watched the animation together, and slowly started to get it.

Once filming started, they shot Wen Xi’s driving scenes first.
Jian Yu fumbled with the stereo, and suddenly blasted the music—so loud it startled them both. They exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.

They’d thought it would be hard to film, but once the feeling clicked, everything went smoothly.

Once they were in that headspace, the rest was easy.
The car turned into a moving karaoke box. They sang terribly but didn’t care—because the other person was just like them.

Two people weighed down by a tragic fate were suddenly carefree for the first time.

By 2 AM, they were done with the car scenes and started filming the rabbit roasting.

It went well, and Chang Ning got more and more excited.

She called them over to review some footage, gave them feedback, and said confidently, “One more take, and we’ve got it!”

Xu Ling watched Qin Cong’an on the monitor.
She was so good.
So this is what it’s supposed to feel like…
No pretenses, just pure emotion. The look she gave Jian Yu was filled with sincere, glowing affection—simple and clean.

Xu Ling sat by the fire and imagined:
I like her. I don’t know if she has someone else outside of me. I just like her. I like looking at her.

Qin Cong’an looked back across the fire, their gazes locking—like raindrops merging into a stream.

Chang Ning, nudged by Liang He, looked up and froze for a moment.
Then she silently started filming—this eye contact was just too beautiful.

She remembered why she had cast Xu Ling as Jian Yu.

At a past event, Xu Ling and Qin Cong’an were seated far apart.
Xu Ling was staring at Qin Cong’an with wide deer-like eyes—like she wanted a bite of the delicious cake that was her.

Qin Cong’an noticed, and glanced back—expression icy. The poor deer got scared off.
It was a dangerous cake.

Chang Ning had seen it all—and smiled. She’d known casting Xu Ling was the right call.

Qin Cong’an, ever the pro, sensed that filming had started.
She immediately pulled Xu Ling into the scene, prompting her to keep going naturally.

Xu Ling quickly followed.
Emotion, dialogue—everything was on point.

“Cut!” Chang Ning shouted excitedly.
That was it!
She wanted to edit the film right now and show it to the world.

After filming some shots from other angles, they wrapped up for the day.

Xu Ling got into the car, emotionally drained. She was exhausted.
Getting into Jian Yu’s mindset—shutting out the real world—was so tiring.

Back at the hotel, she went to shower first.

But halfway through, her vision went black. She clutched at the wall but still couldn’t stay steady.

With the last of her strength, Xu Ling wrapped herself in a towel, opened the door, and called out, “Qin Cong’an…”

…

She felt like she’d slept forever. Not a peaceful sleep, but a deep one—like her mind had been scattered and was slowly pulling itself together.

She dreamed of a cabin in the mountains, Jian Yu and Wen Xi cooking inside while it rained.
The sky was bright. It didn’t seem like the real world.

She woke up to see Qin Cong’an sitting beside her, reading a book.

Xu Ling thought dreamily, This must still be a dream… She scooted closer under the blanket.

“Hungry?” Qin Cong’an put the book down.

“Yeah.” Xu Ling burrowed into her clothes.

Qin Cong’an pulled her out. “If you’re hungry, get up and eat. Otherwise, you’ll faint again tonight.”

Faint?
Xu Ling suddenly remembered—she almost blacked out in the shower last night.
Wait. She thought she’d finished showering and gone to bed on her own… didn’t she?

Qin Cong’an brought over a thermos. Xu Ling was still confused, so she shoved the straw into her mouth.
“Drink.”

Xu Ling obediently sipped a few mouthfuls, and then it hit her.
The last thing she remembered—she was still in her towel, opening the door—She never put clothes on and went to bed!

She looked down.
Her pajamas were neatly on.
Qin Cong’an must have dressed her.

Wait—she was still on her period…

Help. I don’t want to live anymore.

Qin Cong’an picked up the thermometer and held it to her forehead.
“You were just too tired last night. Plus your period, plus the flipped schedule. You fainted. Even had a slight fever.”

“….”
Xu Ling wished that thermometer were a real gun so she could just end it.

Qin Cong’an showed her the normal temperature on the screen.
“You’re fine now. I didn’t need the reading to know. Flirting the second you opened your eyes?”

“…” Xu Ling gave up. “So, wanna flirt back?”

Unbelievable.

“I’ll go get you food. Stay put,” Qin Cong’an said, getting out of bed and leaving the room.