After Filming A Lesbian Movie With The Straight Girl I Like - Chapter 41

Chapter 41: Unconsciously Following Behind Her

 

In the conference room of Oak Entertainment.

 

Xu Ling posted photos from the Starlight Night event—some solo, some with other celebrities.

 

If she could, she really wanted to hide the one of her and Qin Cong’an in the 10th spot—just after the nine-grid collage, tucked away in that “+1” position. But she’d be dead if she tried that—not just from netizens, even Sister Huai alone would be enough to give her a hard time.

 

In the end, the photo of her with Qin Cong’an ended up dead center in the nine-grid post. And it just had to be the one where she was wrapping her arm around Qin Cong’an’s waist. But it was the most attention-grabbing shot, already widely circulated.

 

Xu Ling stared at her own inexplicably trembling hand. It was as if her own paw was shy—heating up, sweating… She could still feel that smooth touch from last night.

 

Qin Cong’an liked the post.

 

Xu Ling clutched her chest and opened Qin Cong’an’s account. There wasn’t anything posted on her personal page, but her studio had posted solo shots—and one photo of them holding hands.

 

Xu Ling nearly had a heart attack. Qin Cong’an had taken so many photos with others last night, yet the only one posted was with her? And the two of them hadn’t even taken any solo shots together. The picture had been cropped from a group photo!

 

Hold on a minute, no one told her the promotion would start this early!

 

“Go like her post too,” Yi Huai said from the side. Qin Cong’an’s studio had sent the photo in advance, as part of a future promo strategy. Naturally, they had to respond on their end too.

 

“…Oh.” It was a direct order—Xu Ling could only obey. After liking the post, she didn’t even dare look at her phone. “Sis… is this going to stir up a storm?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Just… a lot.”

 

Yi Huai suddenly slapped the table, startling Xu Ling. “What are you thinking? A storm isn’t a bad thing! You want to keep floating along peacefully, invisible and ignored? Do you think you can follow Qin Cong’an’s path after working with her? It won’t work. You’re not her.”

 

That wasn’t what Xu Ling meant, but she couldn’t explain it either.

 

Yi Huai handed her a tablet. “Look—happy now?”

 

Xu Ling looked at the densely packed schedule and was stunned. “This is mine?”

 

“Of course. Lots of invitations—events, shows. I even turned some down,” Yi Huai said, clearly pleased. She added more seriously, “It’s going to be exhausting, no doubt. But you can’t miss any opportunity to get your face out there.”

 

Xu Ling nodded.

 

Seeing she wasn’t very excited, Yi Huai glanced at her and said, “Didn’t you say you didn’t want to fake a CP with Ming Yao? Well, now’s the time. He’s still busy filming and promoting elsewhere. You need to use this time to raise your profile. Only then do you earn the right to say no.”

 

“Got it! I’ll work hard!” Her motivation kicked in again.

 

Online discussions quickly picked up—people talking about Qin Cong’an pulling Xu Ling close to the center position in group photos, about Xu Ling wrapping her arm around Qin Cong’an with a smug expression—Hey, she wasn’t smug at all!

 

Xu Ling was going crazy. That was just her default expression management. How did it get interpreted as “proud to have a wife”…? Okay, on second look, maybe it did look a little like that.

 

Scary. Netizens are so scary.

 

It felt like they were analyzing every single facial muscle. Xu Ling began to fear they’d see through her pitiful feelings.

 

But the buzz didn’t last long. The entertainment industry churns out news every day. On slow days, someone will even manufacture drama. Since the two hadn’t had any public interaction since, the heat was quickly overtaken by other topics.

 

Xu Ling began attending all sorts of events, flying across the country. Big events, small gigs—she took them all. She even did a cameo as a famous actress in a drama crew.

 

Qin Cong’an had entered a new filming project.

 

Fans were wailing—months of not seeing her again—but still happy. They loved how she brought different roles and stories to life.

 

At the same time, a drama Qin Cong’an filmed the previous year began airing.

 

It was a suspense series. Her character was killed in the first episode, but the entire show revolved around uncovering the truth behind her murder, with many flashbacks and non-linear storytelling. She had scenes from start to finish and was considered one of the leads.

 

There was a romantic subplot—brief but emotionally deep. Just a few scenes, yet audiences were hooked. Because the love was doomed from the start, it made them even more obsessed with it.

 

Knowing there’d be no happy ending, but falling anyway—Xu Ling understood that feeling well.

 

Despite her hectic schedule, she always caught the episodes the moment they aired. She watched every promotional clip too.

 

For some reason, Qin Cong’an looked a bit unfamiliar. Different from when they were together. Also different from before they’d ever met.

 

When she watched Qin Cong’an interact with the male lead in the romantic subplot, she noticed a kind of emotional detachment. Even when she smiled or responded, she seemed distant.

 

Xu Ling didn’t feel jealous watching their scenes. Instead, she wondered if Qin Cong’an was doing okay. Was she unhappy?

 

She even felt like Qin Cong’an had grown distant from the entire world.

 

A sharp netizen comment: “Qin Cong’an’s CPs in dramas are as shippable as ever. Her real-life CPs, though? Deader than ever.”

 

The ceiling for suspense dramas isn’t high. Even with a traffic-generating actress like Qin Cong’an, even with great reviews and high ratings, even with breakout memes—it couldn’t reach peak popularity.

 

After the drama ended, it held on to niche popularity but faded from the mainstream. It became one of those “cult classic” shows.

 

As promotion ended, Qin Cong’an once again disappeared from public view, fully immersed in her new filming project.

 

Meanwhile, Xu Ling became increasingly present. From small appearances to national TV, she seized every possible opportunity to stay visible.

 

Her biggest viral moment came from an outdoor variety show. In one game, contestants had to stretch their legs to grab an object. Xu Ling, with visibly the longest legs, was expected to ace it—but ended up one of the worst.

 

Her flexibility was hilariously bad. She overdid it and pulled a muscle, getting carted off awkwardly.

 

Sister, this isn’t funny.

 

Xu Ling was embarrassed. Her flexibility shouldn’t be this bad—at least, not before. She really hadn’t trained recently.

 

She lost the game and got injured, but ironically ended up on the trending page.

 

Xu Ling was surprised. She didn’t get why.

 

“It’s because you look like a flawless CGI model, but act like a real person. And that scream—you sounded like a pig getting slaughtered,” Yi Huai explained.

 

“…Real person? More like dead pig.”

 

When Xu Ling pulled the muscle in her inner thigh, she couldn’t hold back the shout. The other artists, seasoned with great variety instincts, turned it into hilarious memes, boosting her popularity.

 

Xu Ling asked, “Where’d the clip go?”

 

“Probably the entire country has seen it by now,” Yi Huai replied, eyeing her with approval. “Not bad. You’ve unlocked a new identity—can’t act? No problem. Funny-pretty girl route is open.”

 

Xu Ling didn’t mind being laughed at by the whole country. She just didn’t want Qin Cong’an to see it. Even if they had nothing to do with each other anymore, she still had some pride left.

 

What if—just what if—Qin Cong’an still had lingering feelings and was preparing to break up…?

 

“Oh right, sis,” Xu Ling recalled something thanks to the muscle strain. “When we filmed She and She and the Knife, I remember there was a scene in the script where Wen Xi pulled a muscle and Jian Yu helped her take a medicinal bath. Why didn’t we shoot that?”

 

She had thought about it earlier. Maybe the reason Qin Cong’an was so keen on bathing together back then was because of that scene. But later she got caught up in other thoughts and just followed the director’s arrangements, forgetting all about it.

 

“Qin Cong’an cut it ages ago,” Yi Huai said. “You really have a delayed reaction. Alright, time to officially debut your ‘dumb beauty’ persona.”

 

Nooo—Xu Ling didn’t want that image.

 

But she didn’t say anything to refute it. No point—besides, she sighed… it really was a pity Qin Cong’an cut that scene.

 

The official trailer for She and She and the Knife was released. Character posters and setting stills followed.

 

This meant the promotion period had entered the mid-stage. The main cast would start appearing together again.

 

Xu Ling had been drinking Chinese medicine to recover. Even though she was exhausted and under pressure from the company and her own racing thoughts, her sleep was okay, so she wasn’t in terrible shape.

 

She made up her mind. When she saw Qin Cong’an again, she’d maintain a professional, composed demeanor—as if they were just former colleagues.

 

But she didn’t expect Qin Cong’an to look so thin.

 

Xu Ling unconsciously started following behind her—almost stepping into her backstage room.

 

It wasn’t until she saw Gao Quan coming around the corner that she snapped out of it and quickly turned to flee.

 

Back in her own dressing room, Xu Ling’s heart pounded wildly. The intense workload had made her think she’d moved on. But just the sight of that slim back was enough to make her fingers tremble.

 

How did she lose so much weight? Was the current filming too hard on her? But during Knife, she was exhausted every day and never got this thin.

 

Now that winter had come to the northern city, the biting wind was terrifying. Xu Ling was afraid she might get blown away.

 

She stepped out of her room—and opened the door just as Yi Huai was about to come in.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m going to greet a senior.”

 

“Good timing. I was about to call you. Let’s go together,” Yi Huai said, carrying the gift they planned to give.

 

Xu Ling didn’t know if Yi Huai’s presence made her more or less nervous—but there was no way she could leave her out in a situation like this.

 

Knock knock knock. Three knocks—Xu Ling’s usual rhythm.

 

The door was opened by Gao Quan from inside. She smiled at them, “Long time no see, come in.”

 

“Long time no see, Sister Quan,” Yi Huai greeted her, handing over the gift. “Xu Ling was in Fushi recently for an event and bought some local bird’s nest. Thought it’d be good for Teacher Qin since filming in the north is so dry—helps nourish her a bit.”

 

“Thank you,” Gao Quan said, accepting the gift and politely inviting them to sit.

 

Yi Huai shook her head. “We just came to say hi.”

 

“Hello, Teacher Qin.” Xu Ling looked at Qin Cong’an sitting on the couch, holding a script and gazing up at them. Her face looked thinner, worn out. “Have you been… really tired lately?”

 

“It’s fine.” Qin Cong’an answered calmly, still not looking away—continuing to stare at Xu Ling.

 

Xu Ling looked away first, uncomfortably, unsure where else to focus. But her eyes circled back, landing on Qin Cong’an’s hands this time instead of her face.

 

But what now? The conversation was clearly shut down by Qin Cong’an.

 

The two managers exchanged a glance. What was this weird tension? Like something was stirring under the surface.

 

Gao Quan broke the awkwardness. “She’s filming a single-mother role right now. It’s been a rough emotional arc recently. She lost quite a bit of weight—dropped a lot of muscle. I’m heartbroken. Who knows how long it’ll take to recover after filming ends.”

 

Xu Ling sighed in relief. So it was for the role… not because she was unhappy.

 

But at the same time, her heart felt strangely empty. Part of her still wondered—could it be possible she lost all that weight… because of her?

 

And just like that, they left Qin Cong’an’s room.

 

Qin Cong’an set the script aside and rubbed her eyes.

 

“Tired?” Gao Quan asked.

 

“Mm.”

 

“It’s hard, I know. But once the fan meeting ends, you can go straight home. You haven’t been back in a while—get some rest tonight.”

 

Qin Cong’an began rubbing her temples. It wasn’t because of the work. Just…

 

Seeing Xu Ling made her exhausted.

 

This all started the day after Starlight Night.

 

That day, both sides had posted their joint photo. Qin Cong’an knew Xu Ling only put that photo in the center for promotional reasons. Still, the atmosphere between them before Xu Ling ran off had been… nice.

 

Qin Cong’an didn’t want a sad ending. The fanfics painted everything so beautifully. They said Xu Ling loved her so much. That gave her just a shred of hope.

 

So she messaged Xu Ling. Yes, just one more step forward—what did she have to lose?

 

And got a response immediately—not from Xu Ling, but a system message:

 

[You are no longer in the other party’s contacts]

 

A rejection that couldn’t be clearer.

 

She didn’t know when Xu Ling deleted her—maybe the night she ran away. But upon seeing that, Qin Cong’an didn’t dwell. She calmly removed Xu Ling too.

 

Luckily, she was about to start filming. She even moved up her schedule by a week—arriving early to blend in with locals, to immerse herself in the setting.

 

Every now and then, she’d catch glimpses of Xu Ling attending some new event, smiling brilliantly, bending slightly at the knees for fan photos. Gorgeous enough to burst through the screen, yet soft and kind.

 

Qin Cong’an knew Xu Ling had a sunny personality—very likable. She had a charm that made people love her. She would be adored by many.

 

But why… why did she wish it wasn’t that way?

 

It should be a good thing.

 

Watching videos and photos of Xu Ling, Qin Cong’an would smile too. But when they ended, and she sat alone in a cold, empty hotel room—

 

—she just felt so, so tired.

 

She closed her eyes for a nap. Her senses drifted. She could hear faint sounds—the door opening, closing, opening again.

 

Someone sat beside her. The couch dipped.

 

A mix of citrus and green tea scent floated by.

 

Qin Cong’an’s eyes flew open. Xu Ling, startled, flinched slightly.

 

“…Hi,” Xu Ling said.

 

Qin Cong’an lifted a hand to fix her hair and asked coolly, “Why are you in here?”

 

“I saw Sister Quan left… so I came in.”

 

That answer explained nothing. Qin Cong’an, her voice tinged with annoyance, asked, “I mean—what are you here for?”

 

“I came to…” Xu Ling, flustered and unsure, caught sight of the brand-new script on the couch and blurted, “…go over the flow.”