Exchange of Movie Queens - Chapter 20

For so many years, Lu Qingming naturally understood Xi Mo’s temperament.

But he didn’t know that Xi Mo’s body had already changed hands. Ruan Yesheng’s disguise was flawless—in Lu Qingming’s eyes, she was Xi Mo. Even if there had been some unusual behavior lately, like not returning home, he would only suspect that Xi Mo herself was dealing with something. How could he possibly think of anything else?

Who would dare imagine such a thing?

So when Ruan Yesheng answered coldly, with a hint of arrogance and willfulness, Lu Qingming actually felt more at ease. This was how Xi Mo usually responded when it wasn’t anything serious—she would throw a tantrum for a while and then settle down. She was just in a mood, and someone as tactful as him wouldn’t pry into the reason. After all, women had their off days every month, but Xi Mo had thirty of them.

Lu Qingming said, “I was just worried earlier, so I asked. It’s fine now—as long as you’re happy.”

Though Ruan Yesheng wasn’t particularly fond of Lu Qingming, she couldn’t help but admire his emotional intelligence. He knew exactly how to handle things—no wonder he was Xi Mo’s gold-standard agent. Her tone softened slightly as she asked, “Anything else?”

“Director Lin’s arrangements are almost finalized. You’ll be joining the set soon, and since your role is the most demanding, filming will naturally be exhausting. Rest up these next few days—go over the script if you want. I’ve already pushed back some of your scheduled appearances for you.”

After the hotel incident not long ago, Lu Qingming had seemed unaffected on the surface, but deep down, he was still shaken. He had been more attentive toward Xi Mo than usual.

Ruan Yesheng gave a slight nod.

Lu Qingming, ever the consummate professional, went over some of the more important matters before adding at the end, “The promotional campaign will start before you enter the set. Media attention on you will naturally increase, and there’ll be all kinds of discussions online—it’ll drag on for a while. But like I always say, don’t take it to heart.”

Ruan Yesheng’s expression remained unchanged. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Lu Qingming, however, smiled—a rare sight. “If it really doesn’t bother you, then don’t go browsing Weibo or Tianya for gossip about yourself. You know it’s all nonsense, but you’ll still get mad after reading it.”

Ruan Yesheng’s eyes flickered with amusement, as if she had stumbled upon a rather interesting little secret. For a moment, she looked almost fox-like.

But her voice remained cold and stubborn. “When have you ever seen me get mad?”

Lu Qingming’s smile deepened, though it was tinged with helplessness. After a pause, he simply said, “Get some rest. I’m off work now.”

He turned and left without another word. Once he was gone, Ruan Yesheng’s lips curled meaningfully before she shut the door and returned to the room.

This was Xi Mo’s temporary resting place at the company—spacious and well-appointed. Though Xi Mo had rarely stayed here, traces of her presence lingered. A room, once lived in, carries the essence of its occupant. Every table, chair, bed, and cabinet bore witness to the person who had once called it theirs.

So these past few days, staying here, Ruan Yesheng couldn’t help but think of Xi Mo and the unbelievable situation between them. The experience had left her with mixed emotions. She wandered around the room, once again taking in the traces of Xi Mo’s life, until her gaze landed on the open script for Sui Ting lying on the sofa.

Deng Sui had the most lines and the most complex character. Out of professional dedication as an actress, she decided to go through the script once more to memorize her lines thoroughly. It had been years since she’d worked on anything substantial, submerged in obscurity. At times, she’d wondered if she’d grown numb, forgetting what it felt like to be an actor. Now, holding the script, the long-dormant passion within her gradually rekindled. She sensed a genuine joy in this process and wanted to perfect her portrayal of the role—even if it meant doing so as Xi Mo.

Earlier, Ruan Yesheng had left her phone in the bedroom. Engrossed in the script, she didn’t notice any message notifications.

Xi Mo emerged from her shower feeling much more refreshed. After days of turmoil, she had gradually grown accustomed to Ruan Yesheng’s body. True to her habits, she kept it meticulously groomed, never skipping her nightly skincare routine.

In the past, her busy schedule left little time for relaxation. Now, everything had turned upside down—time suddenly seemed endless. While her body had somewhat adjusted, she still hadn’t figured out how to fill these hours. The sudden abundance of free time, like a relentless tide, left her—someone accustomed to a tightly packed work life—feeling somewhat unprepared.

Watching TV held no appeal, and browsing the internet only irritated her. Left with no choice, Xi Mo picked a book from the shelf and began reading.

Her phone lay nearby, its screen dark. Before her shower, she had sent Ruan Yesheng a text and then turned it off.

After flipping through a few pages, Xi Mo cast a sidelong glance at the phone.

She scoffed and returned to her book.

A few minutes and several pages later, Xi Mo thought, I sent a text—the least Ruan Yesheng could do is reply. That’s basic courtesy.

So she decided to turn the phone on to check whether Ruan Yesheng had any manners.

Upon powering it up, she did find a new message—but it was from Yan Tinghuan. Not deeply drunk, Yan had sent a casual greeting, likely just looking for amusement.

Xi Mo’s expression darkened further. Though their interaction had been brief, she had already sized up Yan Tinghuan’s personality. Both Yan and Ruan Yesheng were cut from the same fox-like cloth. At least Ruan occasionally had some sense of shame, but Yan was the type to latch onto anyone she fancied without a care for propriety. If Xi Mo replied now, the texts would likely flood in nonstop, robbing her of peace.

To nip Yan’s potential message barrage in the bud, Xi Mo decisively typed: “Really tired, heading to bed now. Goodnight. You had some drinks—rest early too.”

Before sending, she recalled Ruan Yesheng’s usual texting style and added an excessively cute emoticon for good measure. Satisfied, she sent it off. This is Ruan’s signature touch—disgusting, but necessary to maintain the act, she thought.

The message worked—Yan Tinghuan, bored as she was, could only bid her goodnight and leave it at that.

Logically, Xi Mo should have felt relieved after handling Yan. Yet, for some reason, her mood only soured further, as if something were lodged in her chest, leaving her unable to catch her breath.

She had condescended to inform Ruan Yesheng about passing the audition, yet the woman hadn’t shown the slightest reaction.

Had Ruan Yesheng gone deaf or blind after all this time?

Wait—wouldn’t that be cursing herself?

Pah! Doesn’t count.

The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. After pacing around the living room with a book for several rounds, her gaze fell back on her phone. Realizing that she had, in fact, been waiting for Ruan Yesheng’s reply, that irritation surged straight to her throat. She marched over and turned off her phone again, coldly declaring, “Not replying to a message—what a rude person. No need to bother with her.”

With that, she went to bed, stewing in displeasure.

Ruan Yesheng only snapped out of her script-reading daze when exhaustion crept in. Walking to her bedroom, she picked up her phone and saw Xi Mo’s text from several hours ago—just two simple words: “You passed.”

Standing there, she smiled at the message, pondering what mindset Xi Mo might have had when sending it. Her eyes shimmered with a playful, almost coquettish light.

She typed out a long response, then deleted it. After a moment’s thought, Ruan Yesheng narrowed her eyes and replied, “Congratulations. See you on set then. I’m looking forward to it.”

When Xi Mo turned on her phone the next morning and saw Ruan Yesheng’s reply, she scoffed and decided not to respond.

The filming of Sui Ting was officially announced, shifting from secrecy to full public exposure—the more, the better. In this era of social media, promotional strategies had evolved drastically. Hype had to be generated long before filming even began, capturing attention early and sustaining it throughout production. Leveraging the rapid spread of information in the digital age, marketing and publicity became crucial from pre-production all the way to the show’s finale.

Thus, the official Sui Ting TV series account was established. Lin Qitang was no pushover, and with Xi Mo’s investment backing the project, along with her company’s support, drumming up hype was effortless.

Entertainment sections of major and minor media outlets ran preliminary features on Sui Ting. Marketing accounts, paid for their services, reposted and promoted the news. The first wave of publicity didn’t reveal the lead actors but announced several high-profile supporting roles—played by well-known actors with massive fanbases. Their fans rallied behind them, fueling the promotional momentum. Seeing such a stellar supporting cast, along with the production company’s strong financial backing and track record of hit shows, netizens quickly recognized this as a lavish, high-budget production. Interest skyrocketed, pushing Sui Ting to the top of trending topics.

Then, the production team dropped their next big move—teasing fans with the mystery of the lead roles.

The male and female leads remained shrouded in mystery during the initial announcement, inevitably sparking a tidal wave of speculation. Media outlets further fueled the fire with exaggerated descriptions and veiled hints, quickly propelling several currently popular idols onto the shortlist—Xi Mo and Shen Qingbie being among the potential female leads. Fans of these celebrities became wildly excited, rallying online to champion their favorites. Even before the production team released any official character stills, fan wars had already erupted over who would land the coveted roles, with Xi Mo and Shen Qingbie’s supporters clashing most fiercely. A casual scroll through social media would reveal endless debates about the casting.

Having seen such tactics countless times before, Xi Mo couldn’t be bothered to engage. She either focused on studying the script or accompanied Yan Tinghuan to meetings with Lin Qitang to prepare for filming.

Times had changed. Now she often had to swallow her pride, playing nice and adapting to circumstances. Protected by Ruan Yesheng’s identity—since no one knew she was actually Xi Mo—she gradually mastered the art of playing the coquettish seductress. Smiling on the surface while seething inside, she honed her skills to new heights, achieving an unprecedented level of acting prowess that bordered on a split personality.