After Filming A Lesbian Movie With The Straight Girl I Like - Chapter 47

Chapter 47: Melting in Her Hands

 

Qin Cong’an knew Chang Ning was filming them—her hand rested properly on Xu Ling’s waist, but the breath she’d exhaled against Xu Ling’s neck had tickled her, making her limbs go slightly numb.

 

She glanced at Wen Qianning, who passed by with a sullen look and sat quietly back in her seat. Then Qin subtly nudged Xu Ling’s waist, urging her to stand up.

 

Ling moved like a ghost, head bowed—especially aware of the entire table watching her.

 

Liang He laughed uncontrollably: “Your relationship is really close. When Xu Ling tried to dodge, she didn’t pull the chair back—she burrowed right into Xiao Qin! Who could have guessed you two were this close?”

 

Yi Huai looked most nervous, worried Xu Ling had drunk too much. Soon she’d have to apologize to Cong’an—but Cong’an didn’t seem upset at all.

 

Chang Ning finally finished filming, took a big gulp of wine, and said, “Luckily I filmed that moment—replay-worthy!”

 

Gu Qi, serious-faced, asked: “You two… really nothing going on?”

 

Xu Ling cut her off firmly: “Of course not!”

 

But Gu Qi didn’t laugh—she just said, “Something’s off here.”

 

Cong’an could practically feel Xu Ling’s heated cheeks across the table. She lifted her glass. “Stop joking around.”

 

Xu Ling was finally released and headed to the kitchen in a slump, pulling out Wen Qianning’s dessert. When you’re down, you need something sweet.

 

Soon, Qin Cong’an followed her to portion out slices.

 

Yi Huai and Lin Xinnuo came in too, but Cong’an said, “Just the two of us—this kitchen’s small.”

 

Xu Ling didn’t look up. She focused intently on the desserts, unsure why—or how—Cong’an was acting strangely tonight. She had a feeling Cong’an might stay over.

 

While portioning dessert for the seven others, Xu Ling moved to grab an eighth—Cong’an stopped her.

 

“I’m not eating.” Cong’an frowned. “Don’t you know?”

 

“Well, just have a little. Qianqian bought it as a thank-you gift for you. It’s rude if you don’t touch any.”

 

Cong’an turned around and delivered a serious look to Xu Ling.

 

Xu Ling’s face tightened. “What is it?”

 

“Do you know them well? ‘Qi’, ‘Qianqian’—what kind of names are those?”

 

“Oh? They’re just nicknames.”

 

“So why do you call me ‘An’an’?”

 

Xu Ling lowered her head and put a half-slice of tiramisu onto her own eighth plate. “If you don’t like it, I won’t call them that anymore.”

 

Cong’an frowned. “I said I don’t like it?”

 

“You heard me — I won’t do it anymore,” Xu Ling said quickly, glancing at her face. Surprisingly, she sounded passionate. “Did you drink too much?”

 

Cong’an paused before replying, “Fine. Say whatever you want.”

 

She was so well-behaved, agreeing not to use those names—she must be drunk indeed. Xu Ling thought she was almost adorably good. But she wasn’t cute—actually, she was massingly infuriating, teasing her and making her go dizzy.

 

Cong’an took the dessert plates out, giving to everyone and letting Xu Ling hold theirs.

 

Before eating, pictures were taken again.

 

From across the room, Wen Qianning shouted at Cong’an: “An-jie, are you eating that little?”

 

“Mm. I don’t like it much.”

 

“Really? That day you gave me so much. I thought you loved it!” Wen Qianning asked curiously. “How much did you buy?”

 

Cong’an nibbled on her tiramisu: “Forgot.”

 

Xu Ling looked sideways repeatedly, wanting to know why she’d even bought it—but she clearly didn’t want to answer.

 

Wen Qianning, who needed cake with wine, was suspected of losing taste. She was the first to leave—her manager came and ushered her out, though she lingered at the door.

 

Liang He and Chang Ning’s ride arrived—they left too.

 

Cong’an had already finished her small cake but didn’t move. Once Chang and Liang left, she got up—but instead of heading to the door, she moved to the sofa and turned on the TV, as if this were her own home.

 

Lin Xinnuo broke into a sweat, stepped over, and whispered: “Jie, should I go first?”

 

“You want to call it a night? Sure.”

 

Lin didn’t really want to leave—just didn’t want to be a burden. Was Cong’an hinting she wasn’t staying? So confused. “Okay… then I’ll wait. We leave together?”

 

“Yeah.” Cong’an agreed.

 

Meanwhile, Yi Huai had finished sending Gu Qi home.

 

“Ling!” Gu Qi exclaimed sadly. “Let’s get together again soon!”

 

Xu Ling almost said “Qi” by reflex, then caught herself with a look at Cong’an. She restrained it. “Sure—bye bye.”

 

Yi Huai carried out the trash and closed the door. Instantly, the apartment grew silent save for the TV.

 

Ling lingered, wondering why Lin wasn’t gone yet, but then Lin said she was going to the bathroom (“sudden stomachache”) and closed the door with a click.

 

Ling sat at the side of the sofa, inches away from Cong’an, who stared at the TV unresponsive.

 

On-screen was Xu Ling herself, appearing in a variety show they’d forgotten was airing tonight. She’d been confident and outgoing then—very different from her current shy demeanor.

 

On TV, Xu Ling was making others laugh with ease. Off-screen, the room was still.

 

“By the way,” Ling found a topic. “That pudding was delicious. I finished it.”

 

“Oh.” Cong’an looked surprised she’d eaten it all after just one bite and put it aside. So obedient.

 

“Was it hard to make?”

 

“Pretty simple. Haven’t you tried?”

 

“No.” Ling admitted. The first time she helped Li Yan make pudding, Li Yan had said, “Maybe you should just watch.” Ling assumed she was too clumsy to help.

 

Cong’an finally glanced at her. “Must be thanks to your roommate who makes it for you. She’s nice.”

 

Ling rubbed her nose sheepishly. “She’s very nice. But, um… why did you make pudding?”

 

Cong’an rotated her left hand, admiring the ring. “I was bored.”

 

“Oh.” Just as Ling thought she’d ask about dancing too, she was cut off by a low laugh.

 

“You really believe that? When I’m bored I read more books.”

 

Ling sat tensely, hands on her knees like a kid. “So… why? Because of me?”

 

“Because of you? Because what about me?”

 

Ling was caught off-guard—self-conscious. “Well, like, because I like sweet food—or something… I read online someone guessed that.”

 

Cong’an listened and suddenly laughed, faster this time. “Am I the only person you think loves sweets?”

 

“Fine,” Ling snapped defensively, but inside she felt uneasy. “Let’s forget about that.”

 

Cong’an draped a leg over the sofa and faced the TV. Her voice sounded sweet: “What do you mean ‘forget about that’? It was because of you.”

 

Outside, a flash of lightning struck through the heavily curtained window, followed by thunder that rattled for two seconds.

 

Ling’s laughter froze. “Not even heaven believes this?”

 

“It’s just thunder season. And if I said ‘I love you’—would you want thunder too?” Cong’an said impulsively. She startled herself, but didn’t look away from Ling’s reflection on-screen. She calmly waited for the next boom.

 

Another flash cracked.

 

“Qin Cong’an.” Ling called softly.

 

Cong’an turned. Ling pointed at a male actor on the screen. “That Zhou guy? Don’t talk to him.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I worked with him before. He acts like a teacher or mentor to get close to you, giving ‘advice,’ but it’s just groundwork for sleazy intentions,” Cong’an said harshly. “Did he add you on WeChat?”

 

Ling took a deep breath, grabbed her phone from the table, seated on the sofa, and opened their chat thread to show it. “Yes—he added me and sent messages, telling me how to perform better. I barely replied.”

 

Cong’an scrolled: “Good. Keep it cold. He’ll give up when he can’t get traction.”

 

“Okay, thanks.” Ling closed the chat and opened a group chat with Cong’an. She handed the phone to Cong’an.

 

Cong’an glanced—and realized she used an old flip-phone without WeChat. Ling asked awkwardly, “Aren’t you going to switch back?”

 

“This is fine. Keeps folks from bothering me.” Cong’an put the phone back.

 

“Okay. I’m heading out now.” She stood.

 

Ling panicked and grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto her lap. She pressed a hand on Cong’an’s stomach, the warmth from her palm spreading—her fingertip lightly grazing the edge of Cong’an’s soft skin, unguarded.

 

“Qin Cong’an, I have so many questions,” Ling whispered in her ear, brushing up against her gently—careful not to push too hard.

 

Cong’an sat on her lap. Ling’s neck tingled. Cong’an closed her eyes, shifted slightly, placed a hand on Ling’s shoulder, her tone edged with anger: “Why do you feel you can ask whatever you want?”

 

“Why are you still so thin?” Ling looked into her eyes. “You barely ate earlier—are you not eating well lately?”

 

Cong’an paused: “Is that what you care about most?”

 

“Yeah. Why? Mood bad?”

 

Cong’an turned away, placed her palm over Ling’s hand at her stomach, intertwined their fingers, and pinched from knuckle to fingertip. Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing. When Ling’s grip eased, she shoved her off and stood up.

 

“Lin Xinnuo,” Cong’an called as she headed toward the door.

 

The bathroom shut, then Lin Xinnuo opened the door and hurried out.

 

Ling rubbed her face and followed to the entrance, knowing Cong’an was leaving—because Lin wasn’t coming out yet.

 

But that didn’t stop the surge of signals: searching for condoms, toys, interest in her s3x life—they dared say pudding was because of her, or that she made it because of her, and worse.

 

“Goodbye.” Ling stood at the door.

 

Cong’an walked away without looking back, ignoring her entirely.

 

“Bye, Ling‑jie!” Lin Xinnuo waved, catching up. The elevator doors were closing.

 

Inside the elevator, the air felt thin. Lin said, “Jie, the ring looks beautiful.” She had just arrived and saw it—obviously a gift from Ling. Compliments guaranteed.

 

Cong’an held up her left hand to the light, shook it mockingly. “Yes, it’s pretty—but too bad I didn’t get the one I wanted.”

 

“Oh…” Lin said supportively. “Must hold special meaning.”

 

Cong’an shot her a piercing look. Lin’s nostrils flared. “Did… did I say something wrong?”

 

“No.” Cong’an folded her arms tightly.

 

She realized that, yes—currently she wasn’t seeing anyone; not involved with exes or ambiguous.

 

Cong’an remembered how warmly Ling had held her, looked at her, as though she cared only about her—if she was eating, if she was okay, nothing else mattered.

 

Liar.

 

Cong’an didn’t want to feel used again—it was just a game Ling played for publicity, a bit of payback… but she nearly… did so many things that weren’t just payback.

 

The books say: when you hate someone, you can’t stop thinking about them; you become their slave. The same applies to love. She knew it and yet couldn’t break free from the emotion.

 

But starting tomorrow, she’d eat properly.

 

…

 

Ling returned to the sofa. Laughter from the gathering still echoed in her ears—it made the silence more painful.

 

She turned up the TV volume, stared at herself smiling so cheerfully—though she had no idea why she was smiling then.

 

She got up, opened the wine Cong’an had given her, inhaled the familiar aroma—the bottle had a hint of toasted bread.

 

Another signal?

 

She wrinkled her nose, poured a glass, and stored the rest.

 

Back on the sofa, Ling opened the group chat from Director Liang. Photos from the gathering were posted.

 

She selected a few—including the shoulder-cuddling one with Cong’an—and posted them on Weibo with the caption: [Close bestie bonding with my dear sisters 🌹]

 

In the nine-grid, the center image was a sweet “bestie bonding” meme—clearly meant to reframe her accidental like as finger-holding friendship.

 

After posting, she set her phone down, sipping the wine and savoring the memory of tasting it before.

 

Drinking alone felt like a waste. The plan was supposed to be half social, half fun—but the fun had left without her. She thought people must’ve commented already. When she tapped to see, another thunderbolt struck. She nearly fainted.

 

Her account would surely be confiscated by Jing‑jie; her life might be forfeited.

 

In her rush to post, she’d forgotten about the candid shot of their joined hands. She posted it without realizing.

 

The very top five comments were screencaps of them holding hands—some with question marks, others asking: “Did you say ‘besties’ walk hand-in-hand?”

 

Ahhhhhh!!!

 

Xu Ling panicked, trying to erase it all. But if she deleted or edited now, it would look even weirder. And it had already been screenshotted and shared—those couldn’t be removed.

 

In her terror, she saw the comment count jump. With trembling fingers, she clicked and saw a reply—from Qin Cong’an.

 

Two words: “Bonding”

 

Paired with a photo from before dessert—both about to lean closer, holding the cake together.

 

Nearby, Gu Qi also shared a photo of them leaning side-by-side, but the mood felt different—warmer.

 

“M‑m‑my heart was just born.”
“Feels so real—I saw in the mini‑clip that An‑an’s eyes were going all glassy; felt like they could just… do it anytime 💛”
“Everyone calm down—have straight girls never fooled you with non-romantic affection? Let’s see what happens when the film promotion ends.”
“Upstairs, can I die alone? I don’t care, I’m here for it!”