After Swapping Bodies with the Movie Queen, She Ended Up with Me (GL) - Chapter 43

On set, the director and producers had been waiting for them since early morning. When they saw Rong Qing arrive, they immediately went to greet her, pushing Mu Lingwan aside in the process.

The director excitedly said to Rong Qing, “Lingwan, how’s your health been lately? You look thinner—must be tough filming that show, huh?”

The producer took Rong Qing’s hand and said, “When we heard you were reshooting, we came first thing in the morning. Let us know if there’s anything you’re not satisfied with—we’ll make changes!”

Mu Lingwan stood to the side with her arms crossed, watching coldly as Rong Qing broke into a nervous sweat. Smiling, Rong Qing said, “No need for such trouble. Let’s just stick to the original plan. Time is tight and the workload heavy—getting the scenes right is what matters most.”

Hearing this, the director and producers nodded in unison, praising, “Teacher Mu is absolutely right. This production can’t do without you! You must be exhausted—come sit down. I’ll call the makeup artist! Scriptwriter, where’s the scriptwriter? Come review the scenes with Teacher Mu—after being away so long, we definitely need to go over everything again!”

The junior scriptwriter came running with her tablet, only to be stopped by Mu Lingwan’s outstretched hand.

Recognizing her as Rong Qing, Mu Lingwan’s girlfriend, the scriptwriter asked quietly, “Teacher Rong, is there something you need?”

Mu Lingwan glanced at her and said, “No need for you to review the scenes. Give me the script—I’ll handle it.”

The junior scriptwriter looked anxiously toward the director and producers, but they were too busy fussing over Rong Qing to notice. Unsure what to do, she hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” Mu Lingwan said, understanding her concerns. In film crews, apart from assistants, scriptwriters had the lowest status—unless they were famous senior writers, most had to defer to others. “I’ll take responsibility if anything happens. Just give me the script.”

Reluctantly, the junior scriptwriter handed it over. Mu Lingwan took it and headed toward Rong Qing, who was struggling to deal with the director’s attention. Spotting Mu Lingwan, Rong Qing’s eyes lit up, and she quickly excused herself: “I need to go get made up and review the script. You two should attend to your own work—no need to hover around me.”

With that, she hurried over to Mu Lingwan, who pulled her into an embrace and led her toward the makeup room. In a low voice, Mu Lingwan said, “Use the makeup time to familiarize yourself with the script. You’ve already studied it at home—just don’t freeze up in front of the camera.”

Rong Qing nodded repeatedly.

In the makeup room, the artist was already waiting. She greeted Rong Qing warmly—Mu Lingwan had previously briefed Rong Qing about her. She was Mu Lingwan’s exclusive stylist and makeup artist, responsible only for her. Fortunately, she wasn’t overly talkative. After exchanging greetings, she sat Rong Qing down and began applying makeup.

The ticklish sensation of the brush against her cheeks made Rong Qing squirm slightly as she studied the script. Though she had memorized it thoroughly at home, she still felt nervous on set, afraid she might forget her lines.

“Teacher Mu, don’t clench your teeth so tightly,” the makeup artist said softly while applying contour. “Are you nervous? It affects the angles. Try to relax.”

Rong Qing looked at her in surprise, quickly relaxing her body as she explained, “It’s been a while since I last acted, so I’m a bit nervous.”

The makeup artist smiled with crescent eyes as she applied blush: “So even Teacher Mu gets nervous sometimes? I thought you were invincible.”

Rong Qing: “Huh?”

“Never mind, lift your chin a little. Yes, your left cheek is more photogenic. I’ll go lighter on the blush here to keep it natural.”

As the makeup artist expertly pointed out the unique features of her face, Rong Qing secretly thought how fortunate it was they had actually swapped bodies. If this were just an act, they would have been exposed during the makeup process.

It turned out a personal makeup artist truly knew every detail of their client’s face.

After makeup came styling. Mu Lingwan had been sitting on the sofa behind them the whole time, watching as Rong Qing’s chin was tilted up by the artist’s hand, observing the fair neck revealed by lifted long hair, and noticing the slight tremble of eyelashes during eye makeup application.

Though it was her own body—a sight Mu Lingwan had seen countless times—she felt an inexplicable flutter in her chest.

Her heart pounded so violently it made her eardrums throb, as if she hadn’t seen a beautiful woman in eight hundred years.

She discreetly pressed a hand to her chest, thinking Rong Qing’s body was remarkably healthy—her palm was going numb from the strong heartbeat.

Completely unaware of this, Rong Qing focused on reviewing the script. When makeup and styling were complete, they dressed her in Mu Lingwan’s costume.

“All done,” the makeup artist said, taking a reference photo with her phone to check for continuity errors before putting it away satisfied. “We’re ready to start filming.”

At the word “filming,” Rong Qing tensed up and glanced back at Mu Lingwan.

Mu Lingwan rose from the sofa with her usual composure and approached, saying, “This is just a test shoot. Don’t be nervous.”

The makeup artist gave them a curious look, realizing she was intruding, and quickly excused herself with a smile: “I’ll go attend to other matters. Call me if you need anything.”

Watching the artist leave without her equipment, Rong Qing awkwardly said to Mu Lingwan, “I think she misunderstood something?”

“…No misunderstanding,” Mu Lingwan replied casually, naturally taking Rong Qing’s hand. In a low voice, she reminded, “We’re supposed to be lovers now, remember?”

“Oh right, we’re lovers now.” Rong Qing only felt her palm grow warm, not daring to meet Mu Lingwan’s gaze.

When they emerged from the makeup room, the entire crew had assembled. Though this was just a test shoot, everyone treated it seriously—even Teacher Ge Dong, visibly pregnant, stood ready in full costume reviewing her lines.

Seeing Ge Dong transported Rong Qing back several months—it was while substituting for the pregnant actress in a water scene that she and Mu Lingwan had fallen into the river together. The reunion now felt like seeing someone from another lifetime.

Ge Dong’s belly was unmistakable now, her four-to-five-month pregnancy bulging like a small watermelon beneath the loose costume.

Mu Lingwan’s eyes also lingered on the pregnant belly, meeting Ge Dong’s gaze directly.

“Lingwan.”

Ge Dong walked over with her belly protruding, standing in front of Rong Qing and greeting her: “Long time no see, are you feeling better now?” Only then did she raise her eyes and notice Mu Lingwan beside Rong Qing, smiling as she said, “Rong Qing, right? It’s been a while for us too.”

Mu Lingwan nodded, showing respect for this senior colleague: “Teacher Ge.”

Rong Qing also greeted her: “Teacher Ge, how many months along are you now? Is everything safe?”

“Over five months now,” Ge Dong replied, gently stroking her prominently rounded belly with a beaming smile. “Once the pregnancy stabilizes, it’s fine. Plus, I have a stunt double—she’ll handle all the full-body shots, while I only need to film close-ups and medium shots.”

“You should still be careful,” Mu Lingwan said with concern. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just speak up. There’s no problem using a stunt double.”

Ge Dong shook her head. “Today’s scenes are all dialogue-heavy, no action sequences, so it’s manageable. Thankfully, the water scenes are already done—there’s no way I could film those with this belly.”

The three chatted for a while longer before the director called Rong Qing over, and they parted ways.

“Teacher Ge Dong is really dedicated,” Rong Qing remarked with admiration. “Still filming at over five months pregnant—that can’t be easy.”

“Mm,” Mu Lingwan agreed approvingly. “Actors should be professional. How else can we deliver good work?”

Rong Qing nodded, then asked curiously, “Who is Teacher Ge Dong’s husband? I remember her profile still lists her as single, and her pregnancy hasn’t been made public.”

“No idea,” Mu Lingwan replied. “In this industry, children can appear out of nowhere. There are things you shouldn’t ask about in the future—it’s easy to land yourself in trouble.”

Land in trouble… huh?

Rong Qing gave a firm “Mm,” indicating she’d taken the advice to heart.

During the first official take, Mu Lingwan stood behind the director, watching Rong Qing’s performance through the monitor. She noticed Rong Qing still struggled with camera awareness, often failing to position herself accurately within the frame.

“This blocking… tsk.” The director, seated on a small stool, had been clicking his tongue for over ten minutes. He’d been frowning since Rong Qing started filming, and after two takes, he decisively called her over, handing her a cup of hot water.

“Teacher Mu, are you nervous?” the director asked with a smile. “Your performance isn’t quite there yet.”

Rong Qing froze, clutching the cup anxiously. “Wh-what’s wrong with it?” she asked, confused.

The director flipped through the script to the current scene and explained, “Here’s the situation: Your character, Rong Wan’er, sees her brother’s fiancée—your future sister-in-law—marry the Marquis who colluded with the enemy, leading to your country’s downfall and your family’s ruin. Your expression shouldn’t just show anger, understand, Teacher Mu? It can’t be only anger. You need sorrow, pain—after all, your own brother was killed by the Marquis, and now your sister-in-law is marrying him. You have to feel agony.”

Rong Qing nodded. “Alright, I’ll show the pain.”

The director continued, “But it can’t just be anger and pain either. You also need to recall your brother dying on the battlefield, and when you look at your sister-in-law, there should be bewilderment in your eyes.”

Rong Qing was getting flustered. “I-I’ll add some bewilderment.”

The director explained some specific feelings and emotions to her, even demonstrating the sensation of being choked with grief and inconsolable sorrow right in front of her. Rong Qing watched with wide eyes, feeling like she was beginning to understand.

Ge Dong, playing the role of Chu Xiangjun, sat on a soft couch reading a prop book. She looked up to see Rong Qing approaching again and smiled, saying, “Another retake?”

“Yes,” Rong Qing replied sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, Teacher Ge. You’ve already done three takes with me.”

“It’s fine,” Ge Dong reassured her, patting the cushion beside her to invite Rong Qing to sit. Once Rong Qing settled next to her, Ge Dong spoke softly, “Actually, acting isn’t that difficult. I can tell you really want to do well, but the more you push, the harder it gets.”

Ge Dong patted Rong Qing’s hand, comforting her like an older sister. “Just relax. This is the kind of scene you excel at—you can definitely do it.”

“The kind I excel at…?” Rong Qing wanted to ask why, but reason held her back. She simply nodded and said, “I understand. Let’s try one more time.”

The fourth take began.

This scene took place earlier than the drowning sequence. Rong Wan’er, the fallen princess, had disguised herself to sneak back into the occupied imperial palace. Her plan was to set traps in the secret passages before the final assault, preventing the usurpers from escaping. Everything had gone smoothly until she was nearly discovered while trying to leave. In her panic, she fled into a peach grove—only to realize that the person residing there was none other than her brother’s betrothed, Chu Xiangjun.

Chu Xiangjun sat in a pavilion, an open scripture resting on the couch before her. Her delicate features were lowered, her long hair cascading over her shoulders and onto the pages. A breeze stirred, sending a flurry of peach blossoms swirling into the pavilion.

Rong Wan’er stood frozen by the wall, staring in shock at her sister-in-law in the distance—and suddenly, she understood.