After Swapping Bodies with the Movie Queen, She Ended Up with Me (GL) - Chapter 44

Chu Xiangjun seemed to sense something and looked up. When she saw Rong Wan’er standing beneath the peach blossom tree in disguise, her expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and finally to panic. She appeared frightened, her face deathly pale.

Realizing she had been recognized, Rong Wan’er snapped out of her thoughts. She stepped forward, crushing the peach blossoms that had rotted into the mud with each step, her hatred growing deeper with every movement.

Memories flashed through her mind—scenes of her childhood playtime with Chu Xiangjun, of plucking a peony and placing it in Chu Xiangjun’s hair, telling her that only the future queen could wear peonies, that one day, when Xiangjun married her brother, she would become the crown princess of this kingdom.

Then came the images of being dragged away by palace eunuchs as flames engulfed the palace behind her. Black-armored guards had suddenly appeared, slaughtering the eunuchs, staining Rong Wan’er’s pristine white dress and her pale face with bl00d.

The memory of being locked in a prison cart, of her brother’s severed head being presented before her.

The deaths of her family, the betrayal of her uncles.

The pain and grief of walking three thousand miles surged over her like a storm. As Rong Wan’er stared at Chu Xiangjun, her eyes burned with hatred—yet also with agony.

“Wan’er…?” Chu Xiangjun stood up in disbelief, descending from the pavilion to face her.

She remained as elegant as ever on the steps, while the woman below was covered in mud, her eyes bloodshot.

Chu Xiangjun’s own eyes were wide with shock. Flustered, she smoothed her hair before turning to Rong Wan’er, stepping down and pulling her aside.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were dead!” Chu Xiangjun scrutinized her childhood friend from head to toe. Though relieved to see her alive, her joy quickly gave way to a frown. “You shouldn’t have come back. You need to leave—now. I’ll arrange for someone to escort you out of the palace immediately!”

“Xiangjun-jie.”

Rong Wan’er shook off her hand, staring at the richly dressed woman before her. “Why are you here?”

Chu Xiangjun’s pupils trembled. “I—”

“I heard the current emperor has a Noble Consort Chu. At first, I thought it couldn’t possibly be your family—but then, I couldn’t think of any other Chu family with a lone daughter who commands such military power.” Rong Wan’er pressed, “Tell me, sister. When the traitors divided the Nine Provinces, did your family also profit from it?”

Chu Xiangjun couldn’t meet her gaze, her thick lashes quivering as she nervously clenched her sleeves.

“Did you also see it? The moment my brother, believing you were imprisoned in the capital, charged in to save you—only to be riddled with arrows?”

“Wan’er, I failed your brother,” Chu Xiangjun admitted. “His death is partly my fault. But this isn’t the time to discuss it. You must leave now, before anyone discovers you. It’s too dangerous.”

Rong Wan’er watched her coldly.

Chu Xiangjun pleaded, “If your brother knew you were alive, he would be overjoyed. Please, don’t stay here. Let me arrange a safe place for you, and then I’ll send you away.”

Rong Wan’er sneered. “And where exactly would you send me, Your Highness the Noble Consort?”

“Cut—”

The director looked at the two people on the screen, stroked his chin, and said, “Keep this take. Let’s take a break and shoot it again later.”

Upon hearing they had to reshoot, Rong Qing’s heart immediately became unsettled. Ge Dong’s eyes also subtly changed as he glanced at Rong Qing with a mix of surprise and resignation, giving a light chuckle before being helped by his assistant to sit and rest on a nearby chair.

The director was also scratching his head in frustration. When he saw Rong Qing approaching, he carefully chose his words before saying, “Teacher Mu, your performance in this take was…”

“Terrible.”

Mu Lingwan suddenly appeared from somewhere, holding the script as she walked over. Turning to the director, she said, “Let me talk to her. We’ll reshoot after our conversation.”

Before the director could respond, Mu Lingwan had already taken Rong Qing to the car.

Sitting side by side in the back seat, Rong Qing adjusted her headpiece, feeling that if she sat up straight, the hairpin would hit the roof, so she had to slightly lower her head.

After waiting for a while without Mu Lingwan scolding her, Rong Qing curiously turned to look and found Mu Lingwan calmly staring ahead. Rong Qing cautiously asked, “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Mu Lingwan glanced at her and let out a long sigh.

“Don’t sigh like that—it scares me,” Rong Qing said hesitantly. “I know I didn’t act well. The director already made me do four takes. If the fifth one still isn’t good enough…”

If the fifth take still wasn’t good enough, she really wouldn’t know what to do.

When she used to watch dramas, she thought acting looked easy—just talking and chatting, nothing difficult. But now that it was her turn, Rong Qing realized it wasn’t that simple.

First, there was blocking, then memorizing lines, learning to empathize with the character, understanding their thoughts and actions, and finally conveying those emotions outwardly.

It was so hard.

It didn’t seem like something someone like her, without formal training, could master.

“Honestly, your acting really wasn’t good,” Mu Lingwan said solemnly. “The director might sugarcoat it out of respect for me, but as the main investor in this project, the success of this drama depends on me. So I have to be blunt with you.”

Rong Qing lowered her head.

“But there are still some positives,” Mu Lingwan continued. “Your sense of framing is good, and your delivery of lines is on point. The only real flaw is that your emotions weren’t convincing enough.”

“Emotions?”

“Mm. The main appeal of this drama lies in Rong Wan’er’s emotional journey. If you don’t portray that well, it’ll come across as stiff.”

Mu Lingwan hadn’t pulled Rong Qing aside just to scold her. After all, Rong Qing had been thrust into this role by her. If the first day of shooting went like this, she bore some responsibility too.

Problems needed solutions, and anger wouldn’t fix anything.

“Have some water first. You must be tired after shooting all morning.” Mu Lingwan took out a bottle, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her. “Later, I’ll walk you through the scene and help you connect with the character.”

In those few minutes of rest, Mu Lingwan broke down the role piece by piece, explaining it in detail to Rong Qing.

When it was revealed that Rong Wan’er learned her brother was killed by stray arrows while trying to save Chu Xiangjun, and that Chu Xiangjun knew all along yet did nothing to stop it—coupled with the Chu family’s collusion with foreign powers to steal the nation—these heavy burdens all fell upon the female lead at once. The emotions in her eyes when she saw Chu Xiangjun again were profoundly complex.

“There were genuine feelings between them, yet they suffered the deepest betrayal,” Mu Lingwan said to her. “First came shock, then understanding, and finally, overwhelming hatred.”

Rong Qing nodded, but Mu Lingwan could tell she still didn’t fully grasp it.

“Xiao Qing,” Mu Lingwan set down the script and looked at her. “Do you have any close friends or classmates?”

“Hmm?” Rong Qing didn’t understand why Mu Lingwan was asking but thought carefully before answering, “I did, but we don’t keep in touch anymore. They all have their own circles now. After graduation, we just drifted apart. The only one who could be considered a friend… I haven’t spoken to her in months either.”

Having changed her number, Rong Qing didn’t dare reach out to her former roommate Ye Junjun from AG, so currently, she had no friends at all.

After a long pause, Mu Lingwan turned slightly toward Rong Qing and said, “Then let me tell you a story. Maybe it’ll help you understand Rong Wan’er’s feelings better.”

Rong Qing straightened up attentively.

“You probably know a little about Ming Qiao and me, right?” Mu Lingwan brushed aside the long hair falling over her shoulder and continued, “Then I’ll tell you some things you don’t know.”

“My first meeting with Ming Qiao was on a film set,” Mu Lingwan began. “Back then, I was playing the female lead’s rival, while Ming Qiao was just an extra—dusty and plain-looking, nothing like the beauty she is now. She seemed completely ordinary.”

“After finishing my scenes, I was heading back to my car to rest when I heard someone crying near the rear. That’s when I found Ming Qiao. She was just a starry-eyed girl of eighteen or nineteen, squatting by the wheel, stuffing her mouth with the crew’s boxed lunch between sobs, her face smeared with greens and tofu—utterly pitiful.” Mu Lingwan chuckled at the memory. “I really should’ve taken a photo and posted it online. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so smug these days.”

This was the first time Rong Qing had heard Mu Lingwan speak about Ming Qiao, and she couldn’t help widening her eyes slightly. “What happened next?”

Leaning on her hand, Mu Lingwan continued, “Later, I learned that while working as an extra, Ming Qiao had been harassed by one of the actors. But with her low status and no connections in the city, speaking out would’ve cost her the job. So she could only hide and cry while eating. Hearing her story made me both furious and heartbroken. Seeing her reminded me of my own days as an extra, so I decided to help her.”

“After that, Ming Qiao followed me from set to set. Whenever I had a role, I’d find her a small speaking part too. She latched onto me, sticking by my side. Back then, she’d come to my place every day with meals, cook for me, do my chores, and discuss what projects I should take next.”

“Later on, I starred in a hit drama, and my resources kept getting better. I had so many scripts that I couldn’t possibly act in them all, so I picked out some well-funded ones for Ming Qiao and even gave her some likable roles in my own dramas. She became increasingly popular too.”

Mu Lingwan sighed at this point. “Fame brings trouble. Back then, my reputation was soaring as I competed with other rising stars for top-tier status. Just when I needed support the most, Ming Qiao took my entire studio team and jumped ship. When I returned, the office was completely empty—nothing left but desks and chairs.”

Rong Qing listened quietly, her heart tightening as if she could already picture the desolate office and the things Ming Qiao had done to her in the past.

“…Don’t you hate her?” Rong Qing asked softly.

“I did back then. I gave her everything I could—even secured the rights to a trending IP at the time, planning to tailor a hit drama just for her. But before I could even tell her, she had already run off with my employees, resources, and connections.” Mu Lingwan’s eyes darkened as she smoothed the creases on her knees, speaking slowly. “Because of this, I lost my chance to break into the top tier. No projects came my way, and endorsements terminated one after another. I don’t know if Ming Qiao was behind it, but all the capital that once favored me shifted to her.”

Rong Qing felt a suffocating weight in her chest. Back then, she was still in school and unaware of these events. She remembered Mu Lingwan disappearing for a year or two, assuming she was just taking a break—never imagining she had endured so much.

“And now?” Rong Qing’s voice turned hoarse. She recalled how Mu Lingwan had fallen silent for a long time upon learning Ming Qiao was also on Heartbeat in Progress. What had she been thinking then?

She must have regretted joining the show.

Yet Mu Lingwan had stayed for Rong Qing, tolerating Ming Qiao’s presence right in front of her—something Rong Qing had known nothing about.

“Now, I’ve let it go.” Mu Lingwan glanced at Rong Qing and froze. The girl beside her had reddened eyes, gazing at her through teary lashes that trembled as if about to spill over.

Mu Lingwan looked at her in surprise, a flicker of panic rising. Cupping Rong Qing’s face, she gave a bitter smile. “Why are you crying? I didn’t tell you this to earn your pity—just to help you get into character.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know any of this.” Rong Qing clutched her hand, whispering guiltily, “I even talked to Ming Qiao on the show. You must have been so annoyed with me, right?”

“Never.” Mu Lingwan murmured, “I’ve never disliked you.”

As she brushed her thumbs over Rong Qing’s tear-warmed cheeks, watching the droplets trail down, an inexplicable urge to kiss her suddenly surged within her…