After the Breakup, the Crazy Movie Queen Clings to Me Every Day (GL) - Chapter 26.1

The dressing room was semi-open, and Tan You stared at Lan Jingli and the other woman’s intimate gestures for a long moment before realizing her fingers were bleeding.

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“Chairman Tan, should we tend to your wound?”

The woman wore a meticulously tailored custom suit over a black silk camisole, exuding a cold, austere elegance with an undeniable, forbidden sensuality.

The director, about to ask a question, fell silent under Tan You’s oppressive silence.

Inside the dressing room, the woman who claimed to be a makeup artist gazed at the black opal necklace on Lan Jingli’s wrist, then glanced at the necklace Lan Jingli wore around her neck, the one she had braided herself and smiled teasingly.

“So, what do you think? Isn’t the necklace I made beautiful?”

“It’s very beautiful. Thank you.”

The makeup artist pouted her glossy lips, feigning dissatisfaction, which only made her look even more charming and adorable.

“Such a perfunctory thank you! I can’t feel any sincerity at all.”

Lan Jingli was genuinely grateful. For the past two days, she had been in a daze, only remembering to tell Aunt Wan that she hadn’t touched the house or car Tan You had given her. She had completely forgotten to return the necklace to its rightful owner.

“Hmm? Then what kind of thanks wouldn’t be so perfunctory?”

“Let me think,” the makeup artist said, her voice rising at the end. Her gaze swept across Lan Jingli’s cold, beautiful face, lingering on her lightly pursed lips. “How about a kiss as an apology?”

Lan Jingli instinctively tried to back away, but the makeup artist caught her by the collar.

“We’re not close. Don’t joke around.”

“So,” the makeup artist leaned closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “if we were closer, it would be okay?
Lan Jingli stared at her, speechless.

The makeup artist giggled coquettishly. “Alright, I won’t tease you anymore.”

“Thank you,” Lan Jingli said, relief washing over her. Her long lashes lowered, giving her a somewhat docile appearance.

“I’ll let you off on one condition: tell me who gave you this necklace. Black opals like this are incredibly rare and expensive. Even if you found a top-quality one, you’d need special connections to buy it.”

Lan Jingli had already wiped off the foundation smudged on the Koi Necklace. She tucked it into her pocket and said awkwardly, “Someone I know.”

“Who is it? What’s your relationship with them? A necklace like this must have cost a fortune, not something just anyone could afford.”

“It’s nothing,” Lan Jingli replied calmly, her eyes a little bloodshot from a sleepless night. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?”

Lan Jingli looked up at her. “You’re asking too many questions.”

“Of course I am! I’m worried you might fall for the person who gave you the necklace.”

“I won’t,” Lan Jingli said, turning her face away. She just wanted to find a chance to return the necklace to… Aunt Wan, or better yet, have her pass it on.

“That’s good, that’s good. I can relax now.”

“Relax about what?” Lan Jingli frowned. When Wei Yixi had introduced her to this “co-star” yesterday, she’d described her as gentle and reserved, not… this forward.

The makeup artist, holding a bean-paste-colored lip gloss, leaned in again, her hand brushing Lan Jingli’s neck. She whispered in her ear, “Relax about me being your co-star, or deciding whether to fall for you.”

Lan Jingli was about to say something when the lipstick blocked her words. The makeup artist continued smoothly, “Focusing on our co-star relationship is our professional code of ethics, isn’t it?”
Outside the dressing room, the show’s director stood awkwardly beside Tan You, script in hand. He didn’t dare speak up, finding it strange that she would stand coldly in the darkness, staring at… the young star inside the dressing room.

Could she be interested in the young star?

The director stroked his chin thoughtfully. That can’t be right. Tan You is about to get engaged, isn’t she? To her first love, no less; a relationship that’s come full circle, stronger than ever.

Besides, Chairman Tan didn’t strike him as the type to keep mistresses or caged birds. She seemed so upright and composed.

In the flickering light, he sensed something odd about Tan You’s expression—both icy and turbulent, as if she were forcibly suppressing something volcanic. But upon closer inspection, it might have been just his imagination.

Instinctively lowering his voice, the director feared awakening whatever lay dormant within her. “Chairman Tan, our show is about to start. Are you looking for something? If you don’t mind, we can help you find it or have it brought here.”

He couldn’t help but wonder: with the Tan Family’s resources, why would she need to search for anything herself? Anything she wanted could be delivered instantly, even a person.

Under the unstable light, Tan You’s face was as pale as paper, yet her brow bore a sickly flush.

She stared intently into the dressing room, watching the sensual woman who claimed to be a makeup artist fasten a new necklace around Lan Jingli’s neck. The silver chain was adorned with hand-woven cloud charms.

The two women wore matching necklaces, their postures intimate. They stood close together as the makeup artist applied lipstick to Lan Jingli, creating a scene both pleasing to the eye and thick with unspoken tension.

Meanwhile, Lan Jingli casually held the koi necklace in her hand, as if it were an insignificant trinket.

“Chairman Tan, she’s an artist from Yunshu Entertainment, a subsidiary of your Tan Group,” the director said, trying to gauge Tan You’s intentions. I’m so clever, he thought. If I can just get her to remember me, climbing the corporate ladder will be a breeze.

Seeing the deep, enigmatic glint in Tan You’s eyes, the director moved to push open the door, intending to interrupt the subtle intimacy between the two women. But before he could act, Tan You spoke, as if snapping out of a trance:

“There’s no need.”Ah, but… you…” The director froze, utterly confused. Does she like her or not? “Don’t worry, our confidentiality protocols are airtight… If you’re interested, you could invite her for dinner or coffee. No need to force anything.”
Tan You stood silently in the shadows, her brows as faint as ink, her skin as pale as snow. Her breathing was so shallow it was almost imperceptible, her frail frame seemingly unable to bear the weight of her clothes. Yet her gaze remained fixed on the makeup room, an unsettling presence that refused to dissipate.

Suddenly, she regained her usual dignified composure.

“I have no such intentions.”

“Of course, of course. You’ve always been so principled. You would never force anyone to do anything. My apologies for the misunderstanding,” the director stammered, relieved that Tan You had no such plans. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why she was standing there watching others. It was rather unnerving. “Perhaps… perhaps you should go rest for now?”

“Youyou, what are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Come on,” Shu Su called out, approaching with a cup of coconut coffee in hand, her face beaming with excitement. “I planned this whole show just so you could see it! It starts in half an hour—you can’t leave now.”

Seeing the two women engaged in conversation, the director immediately relaxed.

Eager to avoid being a nuisance, he quickly retreated, but not before instructing his staff to treat both women with utmost courtesy and importance from now on.

“I just happened to be passing by,” Tan You replied, her voice slightly strained, a subtle nuance only discernible upon close listening.

“Did you just happen to wander over here?” Shu Su asked, sipping her coffee. Knowing Tan You only drank water, she hadn’t brought her any. She glanced up and saw Lan Jingli, offering a faint smile. “My new protégé is quite promising, isn’t she? Beautiful and talented—just look at her! I’ve always had high hopes for her. She’s got the looks and the voice.”

“Not interested,” Tan You replied, her dark lashes lowered, her expression aloof and indifferent.

“Then how about we take a stroll through the botanical garden? Didn’t you mention a rare flower was about to bloom?” Shu Su knew Tan You’s disinterest in romance and her ascetic nature. Otherwise, in the cutthroat entertainment industry, with her power and status, she could have anything she wanted.

To date, Tan You had only kept one young lover, maintaining a remarkably chaste reputation.

“The Silver Thread Plum. Past its peak bloom,” Tan You said, her voice languid. In the dimly lit corridor, her expression remained unreadable.
Shu Su chuckled awkwardly. “Alright, let’s go see the Silver Thread Plum. We’ll take my Ferrari—keep it low-key.”

Tan You paused for a moment, as if utterly exhausted, before asking, “Aren’t we supposed to be watching this show?”

“But you just said you weren’t interested! How did you change your mind so quickly?”

“Staying to watch wouldn’t hurt.”

Shu Su stared in disbelief. “This woman is both demanding and unpredictable. So strange.”

Seeing Tan You casually glance at the makeup room before striding away, Shu Su hurried after her, confirming again by phone that the observation room for the show was cleared of all personnel.

“Someone was standing outside watching us earlier,” the makeup artist murmured, chuckling softly. Her amber eyes focused intently on Lan Jingli, noticing a small white scar at the corner of her eye, like a tear, in addition to the bruises.

It gave her an oddly poignant yet pure beauty, a striking contradiction.

Unaccustomed to having lipstick applied, Lan Jingli subtly dodged the brush several times. Hearing the makeup artist’s words, she gave a self-deprecating smile. “No one would come looking for me.”

“Poor thing. Then I’ll come find you later.”

“Thank you.”

“So cold,” the makeup artist pouted. “Hey, what’s that scar by your eye?”

Unable to handle such excessive warmth, Lan Jingli forced a few polite replies. “How much does this necklace cost? I’ll transfer the money to you.”

“You’re being so distant with me! I’m hurt,” the makeup artist said, dramatically clutching her chest. “Doesn’t something that represents true feelings have immeasurable value? It can only be exchanged with genuine sincerity.”

Genuine sincerity? Lan Jingli’s gaze drifted momentarily, her fingers touching the scar at the corner of her eye. She found herself thinking of that woman again, for no apparent reason.

Exchanged with genuine sincerity?

What was the worth of Lan Jingli’s sincerity?

She had carried her heart across mountains and rivers, through vast landscapes, but no one had cared.

She had always believed it was a love reciprocated after years of mutual longing, only to realize it was a one-sided delusion.

It wasn’t Tan You who was ill; it was Lan Jingli herself, and her illness ran deep.

In truth, she had been indulging in fanciful daydreams, a wild child from the mountains foolishly aspiring to reach the moon in the sky.

She had known all along that this affection was like a gambling game. The dice rattled in the cup, clattering back and forth, and with each roll, she clung to a fragile hope of victory.

That fleeting hope had sustained her, allowing her to deceive herself into continuing until Tan You pressed the stop button, finally forcing her to acknowledge that she was merely an option to be chosen.

She had lost from the very beginning.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t think of her anymore, but wasn’t this already a good start?

People who crave love often mistakenly believe that by showering others with affection, they will receive it in return.

But she had already removed the Koi Necklace and would gradually forget.

She felt herself finally returning to being a measuring cup brimming with self-respect, the water level slowly rising to the marked lines.

After checking the prices of similar necklaces online, Lan Jingli opened WeChat and typed, “I’ll transfer 600 yuan to you.”

The girl shrugged, rolling her eyes playfully, as if utterly exasperated by Lan Jingli’s stubbornness.

“You’re so rigid,” she teased, “it just makes me want to tease you more—to see your helplessness, your frustration, and your indulgent affection.”

“Send me your QR code,” Lan Jingli said, tilting her head, her bangs falling low over her forehead. She smiled casually and beautifully. “Thank you for the compliment.”
“Ugh, you’re so hard to win over!”

The show hadn’t even started yet, and it began to rain outside again. Early summer rain arrived suddenly and fiercely. Only after entering the soundproof studio did the noise and commotion fade away.

The show’s producer began briefing them on the schedule, explaining every detail. First, Lan Jingli and Wei Yixi would perform two songs from their band, followed by a duet with the Lock Girl Group, singing a love song together.

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Later, the host will chat with everyone to keep things light and fun. For the sake of variety show appeal, try to relax and not worry too much about appearances.

As for audience call-ins, neither of our groups has a huge fanbase, and we didn’t want to fake it, so we’re skipping that segment for now.

Before putting on her headset, Wei Yixi nudged Lan Jingli with her elbow, winked, and pointed in a direction.

“See that girl in the white dress? That’s Wen Fei, the one they’re pairing you with for the show. Our temporary concept is: ‘A reclusive, eccentric, and fickle rock girl saved by a pure, otherworldly, and studious art student…'”

“Who are you talking about?” Lan Jingli grabbed Wei Yixi’s wrist, her already strained voice hoarse. “The girl in the white dress is my ‘couple’? Then who’s the one in the red and black gothic dress?”

“That’s her teammate, Chen Jiayang. She’s the group’s ‘sexy siren,’ the visual center, or something like that. She’s super outgoing, charmingly flirty, and has tons of fans.”

“Isn’t she supposed to be my ‘couple’?”

Wei Yixi couldn’t help but size Lan Jingli up and down. She cleared her throat and said:

“She’s not, but is that your type? Tan You isn’t really…”

Wei Yixi quickly stopped herself from saying that Tan You and Chen Jiayang were polar opposites. Glancing sideways, she saw Lan Jingli’s expression darken as expected.

That little brat is so good at hiding her emotions. Ever since they drank beer together that day, Lan Jingli had been quiet and withdrawn, acting like everything was normal. But Wei Yixi knew she couldn’t sleep at night.

It was like being pricked by a thorn. Lan Jingli couldn’t quite feel the pain yet, just an emptiness, as if she had returned to a starless, moonless night where all the lights in the world had been extinguished.

“I didn’t mean it that way. Don’t overthink it,” Wei Yixi apologized hastily.

“Mm, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Lan Jingli replied, her empty gaze drifting until it met Chen Jiayang’s.

The girl pretending to be a makeup artist made a face and blew a kiss at her from across the room, clearly pleased with herself for fooling Lan Jingli.

“Wait a minute,” Lan Jingli said, belatedly catching the odd note in Wei Yixi’s words. “Why do you think I’m weird, aloof, and promiscuous?”

Wei Yixi gave her a what do you think? look. “With your looks and that all-black electric guitar, who would believe you haven’t had at least a dozen relationships?”

Lan Jingli fell silent.

“You just have that heartbreaker look, you know? Might as well accept it. Even your manager’s branding you as a playboy. Face it—being too good-looking comes with its own set of problems.”

As the crew made final preparations for the show, a few bored staff members scrolled through their phones, noticing the engagement buzz hadn’t completely died down.

“Wasn’t Wei Xueyin supposed to be on our show? What made her back out at the last minute?”

“She’s getting engaged and married to Tan You! Who’d have the mind for filming a show with a fiancée like that? You’d be rushing to plan the banquet and bring her home. Wei Xueyin’s so lucky—born into wealth, beautiful, and now this perfect marriage. Her future’s set for a lifetime of happiness.”

“Tsk, all this sour talk! You’re just jealous, aren’t you? Open your eyes—Wei Xueyin comes from a powerful family, has an impressive education, and she’s worked hard for her success. Just look at that engagement blessings video she organized. Could you have gotten so many influential people to offer their blessings?”

“Hahaha, I couldn’t possibly get them to come. I don’t have that kind of influence. Wei Xueyin and Chairman Tan’s love story is so moving. I might not witness something like that again in my lifetime.”

“They’ve already booked the wedding venue, apparently. Wei Xueyin bought an entire lavender field in France, and they’re chartering private jets to fly guests over for the ceremony.”

“When is it?”

“Not set yet, but probably in six months to a year. The wealthy always have so many arrangements to make.”

Lan Jingli rubbed her eyes, not because they were tired, but because an old scar suddenly throbbed faintly.

Probably just psychological, she thought.

It was like a little fish, already sunk to the bottom of the river, being forced to listen to the singing and dancing on the shore. She desperately wanted to cover her ears and shut out the noise, only to realize that fish don’t have hands.

“What do you think? I picked some pretty good-looking girls, right? Chen Jiayang is an amazing dancer. She’s from a dance academy. I’ll take you to see her perform sometime.”

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