After Filming A Lesbian Movie With The Straight Girl I Like - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Xu Ling Is Going To Throw Her Away.

 

Speaking of getting some air, the muggy, humid air outside was far less pleasant than the hotel’s interior. Where could she even go to breathe? Chang Ning could tell—Qin Cong’an had gone to find Xu Ling.

 

Qin Cong’an waited outside the restroom, not even pretending to look at her phone. She was just standing there, waiting.

 

Yi Huai tidied up her appearance in the mirror and came out first. When she saw Qin Cong’an, she was startled.

 

“Where’s Xu Ling?”

 

“She’s inside.”

 

“You left her in there alone?” Qin Cong’an frowned.

 

Her tone was cold and fierce, catching Yi Huai off guard. She replied, “She’s fine.”

 

How could she be fine? Qin Cong’an saw how Xu Ling could barely walk earlier. What if she slipped in the restroom? What if she hit her head?

 

Qin Cong’an was about to go in when Xu Ling came out. At least at that moment, she was moving just fine.

 

Their eyes met. Xu Ling’s face stiffened, then she looked away, walked over to Yi Huai, grabbed her arm, and mumbled unclearly, “Huai-jie…”

 

Yi Huai didn’t quite understand her either. She walked straight, refused her offer to go with her—didn’t seem fully drunk. But her words were slurred and her eyes unfocused.

 

Qin Cong’an watched them return to the banquet hall. Her feet felt like they were filled with lead—so heavy she couldn’t lift them. What did Xu Ling mean by this? Was she pretending to be drunk just to avoid her?

 

Her heart chilled halfway through. Why? Everything was fine earlier—before the wrap party, everything had been fine.

 

Now it felt like Xu Ling was building a wall between them—and making it thicker by the second.

 

Was she angry? But Xu Ling didn’t get angry like this. She’d said it so many times—not to do things like this. But what if… what if all of that had been fake? What if every second she’d spent with her had been a lie?

 

Something inside Qin Cong’an started to crack. Her impression of Xu Ling regressed to the very beginning.

 

Qin Cong’an was someone with a strong guard.

 

She didn’t trust people easily, didn’t get too close, always kept her distance—even with family.

 

Before the filming of Her Blade started, Qin Cong’an had done her homework on Xu Ling, wondering why Chang Ning had chosen a newcomer to act opposite her.

 

It wasn’t that Qin Cong’an looked down on newcomers—it was just her habit, to be cautious against potential trouble.

 

Xu Ling’s background was straightforward. Middle-class family, studied fashion design abroad, became a fashion model—some recognition in the industry but nothing globally prominent. No impressive connections. It seemed Chang Ning had simply thought she fit the role.

 

That night when Xu Ling came to find her—that was something Qin Cong’an had never expected.

 

She’d been immediately suspicious, but Xu Ling was too beautiful. And in her eyes, there was a certain glow that made Qin Cong’an’s chest tremble…

 

Qin Cong’an still remembered the first time she saw Xu Ling—at an event. She had felt a gaze and looked over. That’s when she saw her—wearing a bright fuchsia long dress, fitted and flamboyant. Red suited her—it made her the only one in sight.

 

That unfamiliar face stuck in her mind, and now that same gorgeous woman was telling her she wanted to sleep with her—giving a perfectly reasonable excuse: for the sake of smoother filming.

 

She didn’t know why, but she made a decision even she couldn’t believe—she said yes.

 

Afterward, she regretted it a bit. She’d become one of those actors who hooked up with their costars.

 

In this industry, even if she didn’t want to know, she’d heard the stories—relationships turned ugly, public drama.

 

Qin Cong’an knew she should have been more cautious. She had too many endorsements—if something leaked, the fallout would be huge. She shouldn’t have agreed so easily.

 

Maybe Xu Ling had bad intentions. Maybe she was out to ruin her. Maybe she’d secretly taken pictures while she was sleeping—ready to upload them any time.

 

Qin Cong’an double-checked all of Xu Ling’s social media. Found nothing suspicious. Just lots of photos with beautiful women.

 

She found her in a group chat and added her on WeChat, but couldn’t see her Moments. She didn’t use her main account—worried Xu Ling might screenshot their chats.

 

So she created a small alt account and added her. Finally, she saw her posts. Xu Ling hadn’t blocked her. Everything looked normal—she had lots of friends, liked to go out.

 

Even with all these doubts, Qin Cong’an ended up sleeping with Xu Ling several more times. Sometimes Xu Ling initiated. Sometimes she did.

 

The first time was impulsive. What did the second, third, and fourth times mean?

 

She realized she liked her.

 

Qin Cong’an kept observing Xu Ling. She seemed to be hiding something, but not in a malicious way. She was obedient, and the way she looked at her—it disarmed her.

 

Gradually, Qin Cong’an stopped doubting her. She believed she had no ill intent, believed she wouldn’t betray her. She even felt guilty for having suspected her.

 

The only thing she still worried about was whether Xu Ling truly liked her—or just liked sleeping with her. But it was fine. A relationship that began with physical attraction could still grow into something more.

 

Qin Cong’an was sure she liked Xu Ling—and was willing to believe Xu Ling liked her too.

 

She’d acted in love stories, but this was the first time she truly felt like she was in love. It was unbelievable. She even started thinking about a future.

 

And now? She didn’t understand anything anymore.

 

The moment filming wrapped, Xu Ling seemed like a different person. Even the way she looked at her no longer held that glow.

 

Qin Cong’an couldn’t wrap her head around it. Surely she hadn’t really meant what she’d said in the beginning—that it was all for the project? If their romantic scenes were over, why did she still insist on coming to sleep in her arms every night? Saying she couldn’t fall asleep otherwise?

 

So was her initial fear correct? That Xu Ling had just been lonely on set and wanted someone to sleep with—and now that filming was done, she wanted to cut ties?

 

Could’ve been anyone—not necessarily her? Gu Qi or someone else?

 

What was it really? What was Xu Ling thinking?

 

Qin Cong’an returned to the banquet hall. Her frustration made her want to drink, but when she saw how much Xu Ling had already had, she held back.

 

Xu Ling had been faking it before. But at this rate, she’d get genuinely drunk soon.

 

Qin Cong’an desperately wanted to talk things out. To ask her everything. But she felt powerless. Her desperation was completely blocked by Xu Ling.

 

Xu Ling stuck to Yi Huai’s side the entire time. Even switched seats to be farther away from her. Even if she looked really drunk, she still clung to Yi Huai—like Yi Huai was the only one she trusted in her foggy state.

 

When the banquet ended and people returned to their rooms—some rushing to catch flights, others planning to explore Mist City a bit—Qin Cong’an followed Xu Ling, who was still draped over Yi Huai, into the same elevator.

 

Yi Huai felt the pressure from her presence. She kept sneaking glances at Qin Cong’an—whose expression was incredibly grim.

 

Normally, Qin Cong’an looked aloof—people often mistook her for cold, but once you got to know her, she was just calm. But not now. Her expression may have been still, but the air around her was suffocating.

 

Lin Xinnuo, standing behind them, shrank like a frightened quail.

 

The elevator doors opened. Qin Cong’an got out first but stopped outside Xu Ling’s room.

 

Yi Huai helped Xu Ling over and gave Qin Cong’an a glance before fishing out her keycard.

 

After opening the door, Yi Huai said, “You must be tired. Get some rest.”

 

“Xu Ling.” Qin Cong’an ignored her and tugged Xu Ling’s arm, only to be brushed off like she was some annoying drunk woman.

 

Xu Ling nearly collapsed into Yi Huai’s arms—clinging to her like she was the only person she could rely on.

 

Yi Huai said quickly, “Thanks for taking care of her when she fainted last time. But today, don’t trouble yourself. I’ve got her. Thank you, and congrats on the wrap. Let’s keep in touch for future events.”

 

Qin Cong’an said nothing, just stared at Xu Ling.

 

If Xu Ling were truly unconscious, there’s no way Yi Huai could carry her so effortlessly. She clearly had some strength left. She wasn’t that drunk—not as much as she was pretending to be.

 

Qin Cong’an stood there with a blank face as the door shut in front of her.

 

Lin Xinnuo nearly burst into tears beside her. On the car ride back to the hotel, she’d seen her smiling in bliss. Now she was radiating a chill, her eyes red with rage she couldn’t contain.

 

Lin Xinnuo had worked with her for two years and had never seen her truly angry before. Even when she was nice, her natural aura was intimidating. Now, it was downright scary.

 

Qin Cong’an stood there a long while before finally turning and heading to her room.

 

Lin Xinnuo followed. At the door, she was stared down. She said quickly, “Sister Quan asked me to help with your luggage.”

 

“No need.” Qin Cong’an opened the door and walked in.

 

“Jie!” Lin Xinnuo called out, “Remember your flight’s at 9:05 a.m.!”

 

The door slammed shut.

 

Qin Cong’an leaned against it, struggling to calm her breath. But her heart still felt like something had it in a vice. She suddenly understood what it meant to be crushed by the cold force of the universe.

 

She walked into the bedroom, legs heavy as lead, and searched for Xu Ling’s room card—planning to go find her once Yi Huai left.

 

But it was gone.

 

Qin Cong’an always kept it in her nightstand or drawer. But it was nowhere. She searched every pocket, even flipped through the script—nothing.

 

She was always careful with her things—never lost anything. There was only one explanation.

 

Her mind was a mess, but a memory surfaced—clear and sharp.

 

Xu Ling had said, “I’m going to the restroom, you go ahead.”

 

At the time, nothing felt off. But now, she realized—that must’ve been when Xu Ling took the card.

 

After that, they shot the motorcycle scene by the river, laughed in the wind, ate croquettes. Xu Ling had said over and over how happy she was.

 

Back at the hotel, they’d made love until dawn. Xu Ling cried while they kissed.

 

Qin Cong’an had kissed her tears for a long time. Xu Ling had held her so tightly—so, so tightly—Qin Cong’an could still feel the burn on her back from the grip.

 

But after the final shoot the next day, Xu Ling just… let go.

 

Qin Cong’an didn’t understand. If it was all just for filming—just loneliness—why had she cried? Why had she acted so reluctant?

 

Her chest was cold—so cold even her sweat felt icy.

 

Her family often told her not to close herself off, but when she felt bad, she still liked to be alone.

 

Xu Ling had scolded her for going silent when upset—told her that wasn’t okay. Said it many times. And Qin Cong’an had listened.

 

She changed out of her sweat-drenched clothes and went to grab another—when she saw a sliver of pale blue in her closet.

 

It looked like a piece of still water.

 

Qin Cong’an didn’t own anything in that color. She pulled it out—it was Xu Ling’s.

 

In that moment, she could breathe again.

 

She looked down and realized she was missing a half-sleeved shirt—Xu Ling must’ve taken it.

 

Good. Their connection wasn’t completely broken.

 

Maybe she had misunderstood. Maybe Xu Ling had just gotten too happy and drank too much at the party. Maybe she was just drunk—not avoiding her.

 

It didn’t matter.

 

Qin Cong’an folded the blue tank top and placed it on her pillow. Then she started packing her closet—mechanically, over and over—until she calmed down.

 

After a shower, she set her alarm. At dawn, she’d go find Xu Ling.

 

The sound of a WeChat call woke her. Qin Cong’an realized she was clutching that pale blue fabric.

 

Her chest tightened. She answered immediately.

 

She only ever switched to her main WeChat account when she was with Xu Ling. The rest of the time, she stayed on her alt. So this call could only be from Xu Ling.

 

“Xu Ling,” she answered, urgently.

 

“Mm.” The voice on the other end was muffled—unclear if from alcohol or tears—but calm. “Qin Cong’an.”

 

Tears immediately dropped onto her hand. Qin Cong’an looked down—watched them seep into the blue fabric.

 

Then—those tears suddenly stopped.

 

Because of what Xu Ling said next.

 

“Thank you for everything during this time.”

 

Xu Ling said, “It’s finally over. Finally.”

 

Finally… what did that mean? You were waiting for this to end? You’re finally free?

 

Did you feel trapped from day one? Was all this just a professional sacrifice for art?

 

Is your “thank you” just for smooth filming?

 

Or… did you love me, but you’re not over your ex?

 

You pretended to be drunk to avoid me. You wouldn’t face me. And now this is your goodbye?

 

Your clothes are still with me. Don’t you want them?

 

Qin Cong’an knew her heart had gone completely cold. All these questions flashed through her mind, but she no longer cared about the answers.

 

There was only one truth—Xu Ling was throwing her away.

 

Qin Cong’an had to summon enormous strength to suppress the flood of emotion—but she could barely speak.

 

She coldly forced out one word: “Get lost.”

 

She hung up immediately and threw her phone onto the bed. She tossed Xu Ling’s shirt to the floor.

 

Her chest was tight. Her stomach churned. She started dry heaving—ran from the bed, limbs giving out, collapsing to the floor.

 

She had never been this pathetic.

 

If her body hadn’t instinctively wanted to avoid making a mess, she might’ve thrown up on herself.

 

She stared at her face in the mirror—puffy, ugly.

 

Why had she cried like this?

 

Because she didn’t want to break up. She didn’t want her to “get lost.”

 

After cleaning herself up, drying her hair—she tried to look less frightening.

 

She wanted to find Xu Ling. But before she left, she remembered the bread in the fridge she had bought for her—so she grabbed it too.

 

She regretted it, okay? She was sorry, okay?

 

She hadn’t meant it—she didn’t want her to go.

 

Qin Cong’an knocked on Xu Ling’s door. No response.

 

She banged on it—still nothing.

 

Her banging was so loud it woke the neighbor—a fellow actress she’d bumped into before.

 

“You’re looking for Xu Ling, Qin laoshi?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I saw her earlier with luggage. Said she was catching the earliest flight. Already left for the airport.”

 

Everyone had seen how drunk Xu Ling was at the wrap party—like a puddle on the floor. So when the girl saw her up before dawn, still looking awful, it had shocked her.

 

“…Are you okay?”

 

“Mm. I’m fine. Sorry for disturbing you.” Qin Cong’an walked over and handed her the bag of bread. “I saw a long line at this bakery yesterday. Thought it might be good. I bought extra. Here—take some.”

 

“Ah… o-oh… thank you, Qin laoshi.” The girl had never heard her say so many words before—much less seen her smile. But it was a smile without soul, her face pale, eyes swollen.

 

Qin Cong’an shook her head and turned back to her room.

 

Oh, so this is what deep sorrow feels like. She finally understood.

 

Next time she had to act heartache—she wouldn’t even have to try.

 

Another life experience gained. Good. Thank you, Xu Ling.