All the Female Protagonists Who Have Been Saved Have Become Obsessed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 28.2

Zhang had worked with them on commercial films, finding their deep pockets refreshing then.

Now, it was just as stifling.

He wanted to make a good film, not a market-pleasing popcorn flick, so he refused to compromise. Compromise wouldn’t make a good movie.

But starting out, Zhang realized the challenge. A good script didn’t guarantee good funding or market favor.

He sighed, “No, I’ll find another way.”

“Really going head-on?” the screenwriter asked.

Zhang said, “I heard in the industry that Li Xia declared no Leading Entertainment commercial activities can invite Chunshui, including film projects. I worry her goal isn’t just lead ranking but to replace Chunshui.”

The screenwriter was shocked, “Is that possible?”

Zhang sighed.

Zhou Xi heard the nearby whispers, nudging Chunshui, “Everyone’s talking to Director Zhang. Not going? Don’t you want to know what’s up?”

Chunshui set down her chopsticks. The actress-special chicken br3ast and salad tasted awful.

Stretching, she said leisurely, “I’ll pass. Seeing me might annoy Director Zhang more.”

Zhou Xi was puzzled.

Not wanting her to worry, Chunshui asked, “Done eating? I have a gift for you.”

Zhou Xi asked, “What gift?”

Chunshui pulled her up, “I can tell you don’t want to eat. Let’s go, you’ll see when you get it.”

Chunshui had Zhou Xi wait outside the nanny van, then handed her a delicate gift box.

Zhou Xi held it up, “So mysterious?”

Chunshui gestured to open it. Zhou Xi untied the ribbon, revealing a perfume bottle nestled in raffia.

Chunshui smiled, “The perfume I always use. You liked it, right? I said I’d give you one when I got back.”

Zhou Xi blushed, recalling that drunken night in Spain. She quickly rewrapped it, shoving it back, “I don’t need it.”

Chunshui didn’t take it, “Didn’t you like it? I already have one. Or do you not want it?”

Zhou Xi stammered.

Chunshui smiled, “Even if we can’t be lovers, Doctor Zhou, I’d like to be friends. Or do you look down on me?”

“No,” Zhou Xi finally kept it.

Chunshui opened the van’s door, sitting at the edge with plenty of space, patting the spot, “Doctor Zhou, come, sit.”

Zhou Xi hesitated.

Chunshui didn’t push, leaning back on her hands, looking at the blue sky. She spoke slowly, “These past two weeks, I’ve wanted to apologize to you, Doctor Zhou. But picking up the phone, I didn’t know how to start, worried I’d disturb your work.”

She looked at Zhou Xi, sitting up sincerely, “I’m sorry for startling you, Doctor Zhou.”

Zhou Xi opened her mouth, fingers tightening on the gift box. The perfume felt heavy. Awkwardly, she said, “It’s fine. No reporters bothered me.”

Chunshui’s gaze flickered, “Do you think I deliberately confessed in front of reporters, that my actions were just using you, not genuine?”

Zhou Xi scratched her cheek. Her thoughts seemed laid bare by the female lead. Chunshui, the actress, was too perceptive, leaving her exposed again.

Chunshui lowered her eyes, forlorn, “Doctor Zhou’s smart. My confession was planned, as you guessed.”

Zhou Xi’s hand dropped. Chunshui looked up, “Someone like me isn’t worth your liking.”

Zhou Xi’s lips moved, finally voicing, “Why tell me?”

Chunshui smiled, “I want you to see the real me before deciding if you like me. Doctor Zhou, in our time together, have you ever, even once, felt your heart stir for me?”

Zhou Xi froze. Chunshui’s phone rang untimely. She answered, “Okay, I’m coming.”

Chunshui smiled, “Guess I won’t hear your answer today.”

Zhou Xi caught the scent of white tea as Chunshui passed. Turning, Zhou Xi’s mind was a mess, two knots becoming three, bouncing in her heart.

That afternoon, the system returned, saying to Zhou Xi, “Li Xia has a temporal mark. She may have briefly glimpsed the future.”

Zhou Xi frowned. She knew the future—Chunshui was meant to be the world’s female lead, earning her honors, standing at its pinnacle. That’s why the Fast-Travel Bureau sent her to save Chunshui. If someone glimpsed it, “Li Xia sent someone to hit Chunshui,” Zhou Xi concluded.

The culprit behind Chunshui’s accident was found.

System: “Yes. After leaving, Li Xia sent someone to visit the driver, Wang Yongan, in prison, warning him to stay quiet after release or be sent back. The female lead likely knows the mastermind. A month ago, Wang Yongan told her about an account tied to a Leading Entertainment employee, which had large transfers to his wife.”

Zhou Xi still didn’t understand why Li Xia targeted Chunshui. Knowing the future, wouldn’t most try to ally with the world’s chosen? Why act against her, even trying to eliminate her?

System: “Li Xia harassed Chunshui, who rejected her.”

It made sense. Fearing Chunshui’s retaliation after glimpsing the future, Li Xia had her replaced in that film with Litchi, a Leading Entertainment artist, and suppressed Chunshui for three years to fade her from public view.

One thing puzzled Zhou Xi, “Who suppressed Chunshui’s coming-out news at the festival?”

System: “Leading Entertainment, on Li Xia’s orders.”

That didn’t add up. Such negative news could ruin someone. Why would Li Xia intervene?

Zhou Xi pondered as work wrapped up.

Director Zhang was still troubled. Litchi performed well, a lucky charm, and the industry was superstitious.

But Leading Entertainment was too overbearing.

He refused to compromise on this film, polished for years with the screenwriter, earned after many commercial projects.

Director Zhang beckoned Litchi after a scene. She said respectfully, “Director.”

Zhang Xiu asked, “Litchi, how many years in the industry?”

Litchi replied, “Three.”

“Not easy to get here in three years,” Zhang mused. “What do you think of our film?”

Litchi didn’t grasp his intent, “I think it’s great.”

Zhang said, “I think so too. You’ve been out three years, but our script’s been honed for five. This film is my heart’s work. Finding the right actors is hard, especially for Tang Huai. Many can play Fule, but few can be Tang Huai.”

Litchi’s heart tightened—Fule was her role.

Zhang waved, “Think it over tonight. No scenes for you now. Rest.”

Litchi’s face fell, lips pursed, leaving the set dazed.

Director Zhang shouted through a megaphone, “Night scene crew stays. Others can leave!”

The crew cheered. Zhou Xi stood from her stool, stretching. Zhang Xiu approached, “Doctor Zhou, you worked hard today. The main crew’s having dinner later. Want to join?”

Chunshui had a night scene and went to change. Zhou Xi nodded hesitantly.

Lights were set, cameras ready, and the night scene began.

In this scene, Tang Huai sends Fule off. Her husband, who tricked her to America, stumbles in drunk, having lost at gambling again. He demands money from Tang Huai.

When she refuses, he tells her to sell, steal, or rob, viciously humiliating her.

Zhou Xi cried, standing outside the lights, tears unstoppable.

Chunshui’s performance was too real, too oppressive, as if she were the broken Tang Huai, championing priceless love, defying arranged marriage, fleeing abroad with her beloved, only to fall into another trap. Here, their dignity was trampled, scraping by with cheap labor. Her once-vibrant husband, crushed by life, fell to gambling. Forced by money, Tang Huai took a path she despised, until meeting Fule.

Zhou Xi wiped her tears, moved by both the acting and the story.

The crew wrapped up.

Chunshui exited her role quickly. The male actor who hit her was still in it, called twice before waving weakly, “I’m fine.”

Chunshui’s exaggerated makeup was a mess, almost comical. Planning to remove it, she spotted Zhou Xi from afar, thought, and waded through the crowd toward her.

“Why’re you crying?” Chunshui teased.

Zhou Xi’s nose stung at her voice, “You acted too well.”

She wiped her eyes, looked up, and burst out laughing, “I didn’t see from far. How’s your face such a mess?”

Chunshui leaned closer for a better look, “That funny?”

Zhou Xi nodded, forgetting her sadness. Chunshui was always pristine, never this sloppy. Smeared eyeliner streaked black from her tears, mixing with overly red blush on her cheeks, absurdly funny.

Chunshui pinched Zhou Xi’s face, pulling outward, “Stop crying. That’s Tang Huai, not my life.”

Her life wasn’t controlled by others. She owned it.

Zhou Xi sniffled, murmuring, “I know.”

Chunshui let go, patted her head, “Instead of this, think about my earlier question, Doctor Zhou.”

Zhou Xi’s cheeks blazed, stammering as Chunshui pinched again.

Chunshui cupped her face, smiling, “That hard to answer? I’ll give Doctor Zhou more time.”

Zhou Xi pried her hands off, pushing her.

“Go remove your makeup. With that face out at night, you’ll scare kids!”

“Scare which kid? Doctor Zhou?” Chunshui teased. Zhou Xi’s blush lingered. Thin-skinned, she reddened after a few jabs, staying silent, pushing Chunshui away, dodging, “Director Zhang said there’s a gathering. I want to mooch a midnight snack. Hurry.”

Chunshui good-naturedly followed Zhou Xi’s push into the makeup room. Zhou Xi sighed, unconsciously biting her thumbnail, nibbling.

Saying she didn’t like her was easy, no burden, as she truly didn’t like Chunshui that way. But whether her heart stirred? Zhou Xi couldn’t lie—she had felt it for Chunshui.

Hua Yun: Come apprentice, I’ll teach you to chase!

Chunshui, devout: Teacher.