Before Going on a Variety Show, the Actress Lost Her Memory - Chapter 24

Xi Xiuyun desperately wanted to confess to Yu Wenyu: Yes, I remembered everything the moment I woke up in the hospital last time, and I’ve been trying to bridge the distance between us ever since.

But when she saw the emotions in Yu Wenyu’s eyes, Xi Xiuyun’s feverish mind gradually cooled. It’s not the right time yet.

“Remember what? I just feel guilty for not spending enough time with you these past few years. You even stopped taking roles to accommodate me. I feel terrible that you’ve had to sacrifice your passion for me.”

Xi Xiuyun met Yu Wenyu’s gaze directly, her eyes sincere and without a trace of deception.

Yu Wenyu fell silent, carefully scrutinizing the emotions in Xi Xiuyun’s eyes.

She couldn’t tell if Xi Xiuyun was telling the truth. After all, she hadn’t forgotten how Xi Xiuyun had flawlessly concealed her true personality for years. Nor had she forgotten that this woman was the youngest Berlin Film Festival Best Actress in history.

“It wasn’t a sacrifice,” Yu Wenyu finally replied. “The irregular filming schedules in recent years had taken a toll on my health. Taking a break was both to spend time with you and to prioritize my own well-being. There was no sacrifice involved.”

But what was the point of overthinking it? After a moment’s hesitation, Yu Wenyu chose to believe Xi Xiuyun. No matter what, Xi Xiuyun would never do anything to harm her.

Yu Wenyu paused, then continued, “Besides, if we’re talking about sacrifice, you’ve sacrificed far more, Sister Xi.

You could have pursued scientific research. With your talent, I’m sure you would have become a pillar of national development, just like our father, instead of abandoning your passion to become an actress.”

As she spoke, Yu Wenyu felt even more guilty. Xi Xiuyun had inherited her parents’ exceptional intelligence, possessing an unparalleled sensitivity and aptitude for both physics and law.

Someone like her could have achieved extraordinary success in either scientific research or as a judge.

Yu Wenyu had assumed Xi Xiuyun would choose one of those paths for further study, while she herself had chosen acting for two reasons: her genuine passion for it, and the potential to earn a substantial income, allowing her to financially support Xi Xiuyun’s career.

But to her surprise, Xi Xiuyun had chosen acting instead, despite never having shown any prior interest in performing.

Yu Wenyu had always believed she had held Xi Xiuyun back, even wondering if Xiuyun would have pursued scientific research or law if she herself hadn’t become an actress.

Seeing Yu Wenyu starting to overthink again, Xi Xiuyun worried she would spiral into anxiety.

She withdrew her hand from Yu Wenyu’s waist and gently stroked her cheek, drawing her attention back to the present.

Years of typing had left Xi Xiuyun’s fingertips with thin calluses, creating a faint ticklish sensation against Yu Wenyu’s skin.

Yu Wenyu reluctantly set aside her thoughts and looked at Xi Xiuyun, though her mind still seemed somewhat distant.

Xi Xiuyun sighed softly. “Ayu, don’t believe anything others tell you. I’ve never truly been passionate about anything. Research or law—I was good at them, but that doesn’t mean I loved them. Besides, have I really failed so badly in my acting career and company management that you think I dislike them?”

Hearing Xi Xiuyun’s self-deprecating words, Yu Wenyu’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How could that be?” she protested urgently.

If Xi Xiuyun’s acting career counted as a failure, what was Yu Wenyu herself—a mere pebble? And if managing an entertainment company was considered a failure, should all the companies ranked below Yun Yu even bother existing?

Seeing Yu Wenyu finally free from her self-blaming mood, Xi Xiuyun breathed a sigh of relief.

Xi Xiuyun continued, “For me, these are just jobs, Ayu. You know me—I’m not a philanthropist, I don’t have that kind of universal compassion.

Don’t think of me as some noble idealist who believes only scientific research or legal work can truly serve the people.”

“But…” Yu Wenyu still struggled to accept the dismantling of the “truth” she had held dear for years.

“There are no ‘buts.’ For me, wherever you are is where my soul finds its home.

Before I fell in love with you, I felt like I was always drifting on the fringes of society, merely going through the motions with indifferent tasks to avoid unnecessary trouble.

No one cared about my soul, and I refused to let anyone touch it.

But the moment I fell for you, I knew my soul had finally found its sanctuary. You will always be my utopia.”

Xi Xiuyun gazed intently at Yu Wenyu, her dark eyes radiating an overwhelming tenderness when focused on someone.

It was a fatal allure, captivating and soul-stirring, especially when paired with the woman’s magnetic voice confessing such vulnerable and heartfelt words.

When a beauty bares her heart, no one can resist, not even Yu Wenyu.

Yu Wenyu’s breath hitched, a bittersweet emotion swelling in her chest, filling her with a dizzying sensation.

She didn’t know how to respond, only that she desperately wanted to kiss Xi Xiuyun. So, thinking it, she did it.

Warm lips pressed against the woman’s, enveloping Xi Xiuyun in the rich fragrance of roses. Yet Yu Wenyu remained still, her lips resting gently on Xiuyun’s.

This was a kiss devoid of lust, yet more heart-stirring than any passionate embrace.

The two quietly savored the tender moment, as if their hearts had drawn impossibly close.

But neither had forgotten the pajama party ahead. They had already lingered too long.

After a few more moments of cuddling on the sofa, they went to shower together.

The fans watching the live stream had no idea what had transpired during the hour-long break.

They only sensed that the atmosphere between the two women had grown even more intimate, leaving them feeling excluded from their world.

“What’s going on, guys? How did they get so clingy in just an hour? It’s like there’s no room for anyone else!”

“Can a guy analyze this? The doctor doesn’t get it.”

“What might have happened?”

“No, no, no, I think they just had a heart-to-heart. It’s not the kind of magnetic shift that comes from physical intimacy, but rather from a change in their emotional states.

Look at how often they unconsciously glance at each other and the body language they’re using—it all points to an extreme level of trust. And it seems Yu Wenyu is showing it even more clearly.”

“Agreed. In previous episodes, Best Actress Xi was always the one watching Yu Zai, while Yu Zai seemed shy or something, subconsciously avoiding her gaze. But tonight is completely different. They’re making eye contact constantly, and Yu Zai even unconsciously seeks out Best Actress Xi’s eyes.”

“……”

Amidst the flurry of comments, everyone had gathered and taken their seats.

The Director’s lips twitched as he surveyed the heavily bundled-up group.

He’d anticipated they’d dress conservatively, but he hadn’t expected some to go to such extremes.

“Teacher Su, it’s not that cold, is it? What’s with the Northeast floral padded jacket?” the Director asked politely, forcing a smile.

I don’t want to wear this either, Su Junwan thought, but if I didn’t, the trending topics would have already exploded.

Su Junwan would have much preferred trending as a “comedic girl” than for “Su Junwan’s hickey.”

“I have a cold uterus,” she explained innocently. “I have to bundle up after showering, or the cold will cause me pain. Teacher Xiao can vouch for that.”

If Xiao Huili wants to be heartless, then she can’t blame me for being ruthless, Su Junwan thought.

All she needed to do now was shift the attention to Xiao Huili.

But Xiao Huili was prepared. She smiled helplessly, a hint of indulgence in her eyes, and said meaningfully, “Yes, it’s an old problem, isn’t it, Teacher Su?”

Su Junwan choked, forcing a strained smile. “Heh, of course. How could Teacher Xiao not know?”

Despite their forced smiles, fans sensed the tension between them.

“Something’s off. Are they acting weird, or am I?”

“I can practically feel the teeth-grinding tension.”

“Okay, two possibilities: either they’re fighting, or they’re doing it.”

“As a Su Junwan fan, I can confirm she doesn’t have a cold uterus. What does this prove? They’re doing it! How else would you explain that sudden, gaudy padded jacket?”

“Can you CP fans stop obsessing over this nonsense all the time?”

“Mind your own business! I’m shipping them—cut me some slack!”

Yu Wenyu didn’t want to stay up late; her health couldn’t handle it. So, she rarely took the initiative but asked, “Director, we still don’t know what we’re doing tonight.”

The Director readily cooperated, explaining, “We want everyone to get to know each other better, so we’ll play Truth or Dare. We’ll spin the bottle, and whoever it points to chooses Truth or Dare. If they can’t continue, they have to take an unflattering photo based on a prompt from the production team.”

After the rules were announced, the game officially began. The Director spun the bottle first, and afterward, the person the bottle pointed to would take their turn.

Yu Wenyu couldn’t believe her luck—or rather, her lack thereof. The first spin landed on her. Drawing on years of experience, she chose Truth.

But when she saw the question she’d drawn from the Truth cards, Yu Wenyu nearly choked.

What kind of decent person would ask, “How many times a day do you poop?” she thought. I’m a public figure! Don’t I have any dignity?

The moment the question was projected onto the screen, not only the other guests but even the staff couldn’t contain their laughter. Yu Wenyu’s face was a mask of dark lines, but she had no choice but to answer.

“Two or three times,” Yu Wenyu blurted out. Realizing how absurd it sounded, she couldn’t help but laugh.

Eager to escape the awkwardness, Yu Wenyu spun the bottle.

But the bottle slowly pointed to an empty seat—the very one she was sitting in.

Am I some kind of joke? Yu Wenyu thought.

The live stream erupted with sharp laughter, the chat flooding with mockery of Yu Wenyu as a true gaming black hole.

Undeterred but wary of the dreaded truth questions, Yu Wenyu cautiously attempted a dare.

“Sing ‘All of Love’ with the second person to your left.”

The second person to Yu Wenyu’s left was none other than her wife, Xi Xiuyun.

Their seating arrangements had been randomly shuffled, so Yu Wenyu and Xi Xiuyun weren’t sitting together at all.

Yet this very randomness made the situation feel both destined and absurdly coincidental.

Fine, fine, so this is how we’re playing, huh? If you want her dead, just say so! She can just die! Yu Wenyu thought.

Instead of making her answer questions about how many times she’s had diarrhea in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers. Or making her sing ‘All of Love’ with her own wife.