After Filming A Lesbian Movie With The Straight Girl I Like - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: “She Sometimes Calls Me An’an.”

 

On the way to the airport, red lanterns lined the streets, radiating festive cheer, and the airport buzzed with crowds.

 

Xu Ling finally got her Spring Festival break and was headed to a southern city known for its year-round spring-like weather. Her family had already gathered there ahead of her—she, the busy one, was fashionably late.

 

Every year, Xu Ling’s family would pick a warm place to reunite and enjoy a few carefree days together.

 

Her family was very outgoing and loved socializing. By the time Xu Ling arrived, they had already befriended not just the neighbors but also the dogs in the neighborhood.

 

On New Year’s Eve, Xu Ling was dragged out of bed early by her maternal and paternal grandmothers to go hiking.

 

Her stamina couldn’t compare to the two energetic ladies in their seventies. She complained all the way up.

 

When they finally reached the summit, both grandmothers shot her a sideways glance:
“Just look at this—it’s only a few hundred meters high! You climbed it like it was Everest.”

 

Xu Ling said nothing, gulping down water.

 

“Poor stamina, stiff limbs—no wonder the people online make fun of you!”

 

“That’s just for show, part of the variety effect,” Xu Ling protested. “You two need a better sense of humor.”

 

The scenery really was beautiful. No tall buildings to mar the view, and the early spring sun warmed their backs.

 

“If we’d come up earlier to watch the sunrise, it would’ve been perfect. A New Year’s sunrise is something else,” the two old ladies said, glancing at Xu Ling. “Moments like this should be shared with someone you love.”

 

Xu Ling fell silent. So that’s what this hike was really about? No wonder all her cousins managed to dodge it—she was the youngest and still single.

 

But honestly, she agreed. If Qin Cong’an were here to watch this sunrise with her, it would be even more breathtaking.

 

She bounced back quickly, putting an arm around each grandmother.
“No wonder the view looks so beautiful—I’ve got two people I love right here.”

 

“Save it,” her maternal grandmother said, pinching her cheek. “Tell me, Xiaobao—got a partner yet? You’ve been in the entertainment industry all year, met plenty of handsome guys, haven’t you?”

 

Xu Ling pursed her lips. “What, a beautiful woman doesn’t count?”

 

Her paternal grandmother tsked. “You’ve met your fair share of beautiful women. Doesn’t mean we’ve seen you with one.”

 

“I can’t just throw myself at any pretty girl, can I? I have to like her first.”

 

“Oh?” The two grandmothers exchanged glances. “So you do like a pretty girl?”

 

Almost tricked into confessing, Xu Ling dodged, “You make it sound like liking someone guarantees a relationship. What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

 

“Useless,” they shook their heads in unison.

 

“…Let’s not talk about this,” Xu Ling said, pulling out her phone. “Let’s take a photo.”

 

After all that climbing, a photo at the top was a must.

 

As they tidied up for the shot, they asked, “Are you posting this online?” “Hehe, we’ll be stars too!” and beamed for the camera, framed by stunning natural scenery.

 

Xu Ling sent the photo to Yi Huai for approval, then posted it on Weibo, with a standard caption about cherishing family time during the New Year.

 

The past few months of nonstop promotions had done wonders for Xu Ling’s popularity. Her post quickly gained likes and comments—many praising her grandmothers, who were overjoyed.

 

Back at their lodging, the family gathered for a festive local-style New Year’s Eve dinner.

 

When the Spring Festival Gala began, Xu Ling took a full family photo and posted it online. Everyone wore bright smiles, and the dishes were abundant—it radiated happiness.

 

“Xiaobao, think we’ll see you on next year’s Spring Festival Gala?” someone asked.

 

“I mean, it’s not up to me,” Xu Ling replied. “But I’ll work hard. If they don’t invite me, I’ll get on my knees and beg.”

 

“No need for that. If it takes groveling, it’s not worth it. Our Xiaobao doesn’t beg.”

 

Xu Ling was glowing with joy all night. But once she was full and lounging on the sofa, she couldn’t help but wonder what Qin Cong’an was doing now… She hadn’t appeared in the Gala or on any other shows—was she still on set? Had she reunited with family? No matter what, Xu Ling hoped she was happy.

 

On TV, Xie Jing appeared, singing with a few male actors.

 

Xu Ling rolled her eyes. Can he even sing? Lip-syncing? Stealing a professional singer’s spot—seriously?

 

“Hey, this guy’s good-looking,” her maternal grandmother said.

 

“You say that like it’s your first time seeing him. You loved that show where he played the assassin—totally smitten,” her paternal grandmother chimed in.

 

“Oh right! Didn’t recognize him in this outfit. But I still think he looks better in period dramas.”

 

Looks good my ass, Xu Ling thought, rolling her eyes again.

 

Her grandmother caught it. “Xiaobao, what’s wrong? Sleepy?”

 

“Huh?” Xu Ling rubbed her eyes. “A little.”

 

“Hold on a bit longer.”

 

“…”

 

“This guy kinda looks like that girl you acted with,” her grandmother said. “What do you think?” she asked the other.

 

“You know, you’re right! Especially around the nose.”

 

Xu Ling couldn’t take it. Any more and they’d be saying the two looked like a couple. She yawned and stood. “I’m heading to bed.”

 

“Don’t miss the fireworks later!” her mom called out.

 

Meanwhile, New Year’s Eve in Beicheng was quiet—no fireworks or firecrackers.

 

Qin Cong’an’s home was especially silent. She didn’t even turn on the TV. She video-called her mom while eating, then laid on the sofa reading.

 

The production team had given everyone time off. Even if Qin Cong’an didn’t go home for the holidays, others needed to. So she was left to spend the time in her calm, unchanging but comfortable routine.

 

When lost in her book, it felt like returning to her old normal. But once she looked up, thoughts came creeping back in.

 

Even though that light-blue garment had been tucked deep into the closet, without any visual reminders, she still thought about her. Ridiculous.

 

After finishing a chapter, she sat quietly for a moment, then—muscle memory took over—reached for her phone and instinctively tapped into Xu Ling’s profile.

 

Xu Ling had posted twice—once hiking with family, once having New Year’s dinner. Smiles all around.

 

Zooming in on her family members, they looked warm and kind. Just as Qin Cong’an had imagined—Xu Ling had grown up in a loving home.

 

Lucky her.

 

Realizing she was caring again, Qin Cong’an frowned and stuffed her phone between the couch cushions. She picked up her book again.

 

After the New Year, she got herself an old-school phone that only received calls. Back on set, filming entered its final phase. The shoot was almost over.

 

She didn’t want it to end. Once the film wrapped, they’d enter the final promotional period for She, and She, and the Blade. There would be frequent events—and frequent encounters with Xu Ling.

 

Not a good thing.

 

Spring returned.

 

The final trailer for She, and She, and the Blade was released—misty cityscapes, busy street food vendors, rain-soaked nights, and the two leads holding shovels. A gripping montage that piqued curiosity.

 

There was also an action cut—chase scenes through quiet alleys, crisp takedowns.

 

Audiences were stunned. Especially at Xu Ling—such a sharp contrast from her usual ditzy persona. She’d become meme material with all her variety show antics. And now they were supposed to believe she could fight like that?

 

Even with Qin Cong’an’s scarce appearances over the past year, her buzz remained strong.

 

Just those two minutes of trailers gave editing YouTubers tons of material, feeding a massive crop of CP (couple) fans.

 

Mainly, the food they were feasting on came from one pairing: AnLing CP.

 

It accidentally trended on video platforms, made the hot search list, and their fan forum skyrocketed to the top ten.

 

Xu Ling was shocked.

 

This is just the beginning—how did it blow up like this? She was genuinely worried. Once promotion started, people would realize this CP was fake! Totally fake!

 

She’d be crucified online!

 

Every time she saw AnLing content on social media, she panicked. Afraid fans were imagining too much and would end up disappointed.

 

And indeed, backlash came.

 

The promo tour included variety shows—but only Xu Ling and Gu Qi joined. Qin Cong’an didn’t do game-based shows.

 

Some began saying that all this AnLing buzz was one-sided—that Xu Ling’s team was marketing it alone, while Qin Cong’an clearly wasn’t interested.

 

CP fans weren’t having it. They had eyes—of course the chemistry was real!

 

Qin Cong’an’s fans clarified:
[Stop making things up. She just doesn’t do those kinds of shows.]

 

But they also doubted the “major CP marketing” theory.
[It’ll be the same as before—they’re just colleagues.]

 

Then, Qin Cong’an liked a photo of Xu Ling that had nothing to do with the movie promo.

 

Suddenly, CP fans swelled again.

 

Xu Ling couldn’t understand it. Eventually, she concluded:
Qin Cong’an just didn’t want her colleague getting flamed online. She’s just… a really good person.

 

Then came their joint interview on a streaming platform.

 

Before this, Xu Ling had gone all out—hitting the gym, slathering on body lotion, carefully selecting an off-shoulder dress. Even if they were no longer involved, she didn’t want to leave a bad impression.

 

But when she saw Qin Cong’an backstage—just a loose T-shirt and jeans.

 

They greeted each other and went to separate prep rooms.

 

Xu Ling didn’t bother her.

 

Both were in light makeup and changed into matching outfits from the movie—bluish green tones, perfectly coordinated, just like last spring. The simple designs had been custom-styled for the film. Subtle, but deliberate.

 

On the cream-colored three-seater sofa in the studio, the two sat with a bit of distance between them.

 

The host, off-camera, began the interview:
“Could each of you introduce yourselves?”

 

Qin Cong’an looked across the couch.

 

Even though they hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in a long time, Xu Ling instantly got it—she should go first.
“Hello everyone, I’m Xu Ling, and I play Jian Yu in the movie.”

 

“Hello, I’m Qin Cong’an, and I play Wen Xi.”

 

The host asked:
“If you could add an adjective in front of your character’s name, what would it be?”

 

Qin Cong’an answered first:
“I’m Wen Xi, the one who always watches over Jian Yu.”

 

Xu Ling’s heart skipped a beat—even though she knew this was a CP-focused interview.
“I’m Jian Yu, who never feels alone because Wen Xi is there.”

 

The host laughed:
“Do you agree with each other’s answers?”

 

They both nodded.

 

The host continued:
“Now, what adjective would you add in front of your own name? We’re all curious what your relationship is like off-screen.”

 

Xu Ling looked at Qin Cong’an, thinking she’d answer first again. But Qin Cong’an gestured for her to go.

 

With a soft smile, Xu Ling said, “I’m Xu Ling, very grateful to Qin laoshi for helping me a lot during filming.”

 

Qin Cong’an looked away and said flatly, “I’m actor Qin Cong’an.”

 

A beat of silence.

 

Xu Ling’s smile froze for a second. Then she recovered:
“I still don’t really dare call myself an actor.”

 

“Why? You acted very well,” Qin Cong’an replied, looking at her.

 

Xu Ling shook her head.
“No no…”

 

The host had interviewed many CP pairs. Usually just a few questions in, she could tell if something was real or fake off-screen—but with these two? Still unclear.

 

“How would you summarize the relationship between your characters?”

 

Qin Cong’an took a moment. It was hard to answer—their relationship wasn’t something easily described in a sentence. And with the film unreleased, she also had to avoid spoilers.

 

Xu Ling listened carefully, gazing sideways.
She’s still so thin… that jawline, those collarbones, that long neck… so beautiful…

 

“Xu laoshi?”

 

Xu Ling snapped out of it:
“I agree. But to really understand their relationship, please come watch the movie.”

 

The host said:
“And how would you describe your own relationship outside the movie? It’s a tough question, so I’ll break it down. First: what do you call each other off-camera?”

 

Xu Ling looked at Yi Huai behind the camera. Wait—this question wasn’t in the prep notes! I didn’t prepare an answer!

 

What came to mind, naturally, was the real answer. But that couldn’t be aired.

 

“She sometimes calls me An’an,” Qin Cong’an answered first.

 

The host gasped off-camera. Unexpected!

 

“When?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“…Okay,” the host turned to Xu Ling, “And during those times, what does she call you?”

 

Baby.

 

No way she could say that. She wasn’t ready to socially combust today. Her hands fidgeted, scratching her face, wiping sweaty palms on her pants.

 

“Xu Ling. Just Xu Ling,” Qin Cong’an answered for her.

 

The host dragged out the “ohhh”:
“Qin laoshi is four years older, right? And she really gets called An’an?”

 

“Sometimes,” Qin Cong’an repeated. Again.