Fake Love with the Movie Queen - Chapter 27

Neither Sikong Yuan nor Yu Qianxue had any idea what was going on.

Due to the high insurance costs, no reporters dared to get too close to Zhu Ningyue.

The remaining reporters all swarmed around Ge Jiang.

Faced with a barrage of microphones and cameras, she responded politely, “It’s probably just a coincidence.”

Her words were carefully chosen.

The phrase “probably” made it seem as though she either didn’t know the full story or knew but couldn’t say.

Ge Jiang was a respected actress with a solid reputation, so her words naturally carried weight.

The reporters, well-versed in the entertainment industry, immediately understood the implications of her statement.

The articles that were eventually published subtly hinted at her ambiguous stance.

When the public saw the reports, all sorts of speculations began to surface.

In the end, most people concluded that the dating show’s producers were likely trying to stir up publicity.

As for whether there was a script, that remained unconfirmed. Still, the show’s reputation took a hit, and its follower count dropped noticeably.

After reviewing the backend data, Xiang Ying felt the decline was still within manageable limits and called Zhou Mei.

“When would be a good time for you to resume filming?”

“At the very least, we should wait until the hype dies down, right?”

Zhou Mei peered through the gap in the hotel curtains. A crowd of reporters had gathered downstairs, intently watching everyone who came and went.

She closed the curtains and said to Xiang Ying over the phone, “You should probably contact the hotel manager to reassure the guests. There are too many reporters here, and it’s affecting the guests.”

“Got it.”

Xiang Ying moved the phone away and relayed Zhou Mei’s words to her assistant.

Then, she put the phone back to her ear. “The hype should die down in a few days. I’m planning to resume the live broadcast in three days.”

“Three days?”

Zhou Mei exchanged a glance with Qiu Qing’an, who nodded in agreement before she continued, “Alright, three days it is.”

The two discussed a few more details over the phone, confirmed everything was in order, and then hung up.

Zhou Mei set down her phone and asked Qiu Qing’an, “Isn’t three days too short?”

Qiu Qing’an replied, “Director Xiang is probably considering the overall schedule of the dating show. My contract only covers thirty days, whether we’re live or not.”

With three days passing now, plus the three days already spent on the live broadcast, only twenty-four days remained in the total schedule.

The original program arrangements would have to be adjusted, and some segments might even be cut.

Three days was likely the most Xiang Ying could compromise.

“Even so, giving us only three days is still too little.”

Zhou Mei didn’t interfere too much with Qiu Qing’an’s decisions, but she always tried to consider every angle for her.

In three days, the trending topics might fade, but public attention wouldn’t have time to fully dissipate.

Qiu Qing’an said, “I understand your concerns. But if I delay too long, the other guests’ schedules will be affected too.”

“This situation started because of me. The production team has already taken the blame once—I can’t refuse to help with something this minor.”

“Alright, as long as you’ve thought it through.”

Zhou Mei picked up her phone to check the messages she’d received.

“My laptop’s been delivered. I’ll handle some work here first.”

With that, she headed for the door.

Outside the door, Gu Nanxuan, holding a laptop, saw the door open from the inside and lowered her hand, which had been poised to ring the doorbell.

“Why are you the one delivering it?”

Zhou Mei raised an eyebrow at her and stepped aside to make way.

Gu Nanxuan walked in. “I ran into your assistant in the elevator just now. She said she forgot something and asked me to bring the laptop over first.”

Both she and Chou Qing’an were artists under Zhou Mei’s management, so Zhou Mei’s assistant naturally knew her.

Zhou Mei sighed. “She still hasn’t shaken off her scatterbrained habits.”

But there wasn’t much reproach in her tone.

After closing the door, she followed Gu Nanxuan back into the room.

Gu Nanxuan placed the laptop on the table and walked over to Chou Qing’an, sitting down beside her in the middle of the sofa.

“Are you hungry? I just asked the hotel to prepare some food. It should be delivered soon.”

Before Chou Qing’an could answer, Zhou Mei interjected, “This hotel serves dinner?”

When checking in, she had asked the front desk and was told the hotel only provided breakfast, not dinner.

Gu Nanxuan replied, “I’m not sure. But the hotel’s name looked familiar, so I asked a sister I know, and she helped arrange it.”

Zhou Mei opened the laptop and realized the external hard drive that went with it hadn’t been brought over.

Hearing Gu Nanxuan’s words, she looked up in surprise. “Nanxuan, you know so many people? I’m really curious about what your family does.”

On previous outings, Gu Nanxuan had often provided various conveniences.

Though she didn’t seem like the type to socialize widely, she somehow knew so many people who were willing to help.

Gu Nanxuan didn’t respond, her expression darkening slightly.

Chou Qing’an held her hand and said to Zhou Mei, “It’s not a good topic.”

“Sorry.”

Zhou Mei hadn’t expected it to be a sensitive subject. “I was just curious, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” Gu Nanxuan’s expression softened slightly. “I don’t have a good relationship with them, but it’s not something that can’t be asked about.”

“Is it the one I’m thinking of?” Zhou Mei glanced at Chou Qing’an.

Chou Qing’an nodded. “Yes.”

Zhou Mei suddenly understood. “Ah, I see.”

The surname Shen wasn’t uncommon, but in City A, there happened to be a mayor with the same surname.

“But I thought her spouse’s surname was Liu?”

Gu Nanxuan said, “I took my grandmother’s surname.”

This tacitly confirmed Zhou Mei’s guess.

Gu Nanxuan’s mother had grown up in an extremely traditional family.

After enduring long-term prejudice and discrimination, she developed a deep resentment toward her father and even once wanted to change her surname.

But due to various complicated reasons, she never succeeded.

To fulfill her mother’s unfulfilled wish, Gu Nanxuan took her grandmother’s surname instead.

“No wonder I couldn’t figure it out at all.”

Zhou Mei prided herself on knowing a lot of people—no matter the industry, she had some connections.

With even a hint of information, she could usually deduce someone’s background.

But Gu Nanxuan’s origins had stumped her—because she hadn’t taken her parents’ surname.

“So how did things end up like this between you and your family?”

She had never seen Gu Nanxuan return home, not even during the New Year.

Seeing Gu Nanxuan hesitate, Zhou Mei quickly added, “If it’s inconvenient to talk about, forget I asked.”

She was purely satisfying her own curiosity and didn’t intend to pry relentlessly.

Gu Nanxuan pressed her lips together and said, “My mom doesn’t like that I draw comics. She thinks I’m wasting my time.”

Gu Nanxuan’s mother loved her deeply, but it was precisely because of this excessive love that her expectations were extraordinarily high.

Every aspect of Gu Nanxuan’s life was subjected to extreme scrutiny—her clothing, food, living arrangements, personal style, even the path she was to take in the future—all had to be executed exactly as her mother dictated.

She was allowed to study art, but only as a hobby, never as a career or profession.

Otherwise, she would face harsh reprimands and discipline.

The first time Gu Nanxuan encountered painting, she fell in love with it.

Her mother noticed this and initially indulged her.

But when she realized Gu Nanxuan was straying from the path she had envisioned, she went into a frenzy, tearing up all of Gu Nanxuan’s artwork.

At sixteen, Gu Nanxuan was already beginning to understand what she truly wanted.

So she refused to continue following the rigid path her mother had set for her.

She secretly kept learning to paint and eventually discovered she could earn money by taking commissions and drawing comics online.

When she received her first payment, she excitedly shared the news with her mother.

But all she got in return was a dark, stormy expression and a heart-wrenching scolding.

She was locked away, all her painting tools confiscated, along with her computer and phone.

For an entire year, she was confined to only two places: school and home.

When it came time to apply for college, her mother forcefully filled out her applications for her.

Gu Nanxuan didn’t resist—until the very last day of the deadline, when she secretly changed her application and ran away.

She sold her phone and anything else of value she had, found a place to work, and saved up enough money to start painting again.

She never went back home. Even her college acceptance letter was secretly mailed to her by a classmate.

Only when she saw the name of the school she had dreamed of did she finally let out a sigh of relief.

Four years of university, up until now—she had never once reached out to her family.

And her mother had never contacted her either.

Zhou Mei hadn’t expected Gu Nanxuan to have such a past and wasn’t sure how to comfort her.

“You don’t need to comfort me,” Gu Nanxuan said, as if reading her thoughts. “I think things are fine the way they are now.”

Besides, even without contact, they both still knew about each other’s lives.

And so, they tacitly agreed to maintain the status quo.

“Alright.”

Zhou Mei gave up on finding the right words of comfort.

She asked instead, “So all the money you spend now is what you’ve earned yourself?”

“Of course. Since college, I haven’t taken a single cent from my family.”

Gu Nanxuan had realized early on that if she couldn’t become independent, she would never break free from her family.

“What’s your pen name for your comics?”

Zhou Mei got the impression that Gu Nanxuan wasn’t short on money—she could even afford limited-edition merchandise.

She guessed Gu Nanxuan must be a fairly well-known comic artist.

Gu Nanxuan answered, “NX.”

“Why does that sound familiar?”

Zhou Mei thought for a moment, then turned to Qiu Qing’an. “Isn’t that the author of that manga adaptation you starred in before?”

Qiu Qing’an: “So you do remember.”

“Of course I remember,” Zhou Mei said. “No wonder you suddenly wanted to take on that script back then.”

Manga adaptations were usually risky—they often faced backlash for failing to live up to the original work.

If the acting was subpar, it would only invite more criticism.

At the time, Qiu Qing’an’s career was on the rise, and Zhou Mei had advised against taking the role. The pay was also much lower than Qiu Qing’an’s usual rate.

But Qiu Qing’an herself insisted on taking the role.

After some investigation and discussion, Zhou Mei reluctantly gave in.

“So you two knew each other that long ago?”

Zhou Mei had only learned about their marriage a year ago. But the manga adaptation drama was filmed four years prior.

Gu Nanxuan: “To be precise, we met on June 1st, 2017.”

“So you’ve known each other for six years?”

Zhou Mei thought back.

Six years ago, Qiu Qing’an had just graduated from university. Gu Nanxuan, on the other hand, must have just started college around that time.

“How did you two meet?”

“Are you asking too many questions?” Gu Nanxuan shot her a glance.

Zhou Mei coughed lightly. “Just curious, that’s all.”

She didn’t press further.

Just then, the doorbell rang. She went to answer it.

The assistant outside handed her a hard drive and confirmed, “Should I buy meals for all three of you later?”

“No need. Go book another room for me instead,” Zhou Mei said.

Originally, she had planned to have the assistant buy food from nearby, but since Gu Nanxuan had already taken care of it, there was no need to bother.

The assistant nodded in understanding and took her ID card to go downstairs again.

Hearing her words, Qiu Qing’an asked, “Didn’t you just say you were staying here to work? Why suddenly book another room?”

Zhou Mei returned with the hard drive and placed it next to the computer. “Just giving you two some private space as a couple.”

Truthfully, she didn’t want to stay and endure their affection.

From the moment they arrived until now, the two had been exchanging subtle intimate gestures nonstop. She wasn’t blind, nor could she pretend not to notice.

After packing up her things along with the computer, Zhou Mei sat nearby, waiting for the assistant to return.

The assistant was quick. Soon enough, she returned with the room key.

Zhou Mei left with the assistant.

Now, only Gu Nanxuan and Qiu Qing’an remained in the room, and for a moment, it felt unusually quiet.

Qiu Qing’an gently squeezed Gu Nanxuan’s hand and asked softly, “Are you okay?”

Ever since their conversation with Zhou Mei, she had sensed something off about Gu Nanxuan’s mood. Even now, she seemed to be forcing herself to stay composed.

“I’m fine,” Gu Nanxuan exhaled lightly. “Actually, talking about the past again doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.”

When they first got together, she had already shared her past with Qiu Qing’an.

Back then, the memories had felt overwhelmingly painful. Now, they just left her with a sense of melancholy.

Her heart felt hollow and lost.

As if she wasn’t sure whether all her persistence and sacrifices over the years had been worth it.

Qiu Qing’an tenderly touched her face. “Your mother hasn’t interfered in your life anymore. Maybe she’s come to accept your choices.”

Given her position, it would have been all too easy for her to control Gu Nanxuan’s life completely.

But the fact that she chose to let go during Gu Nanxuan’s college years—wasn’t that a form of silent approval?

Gu Nanxuan understood what she meant, but her heart was still unsettled.

Finally, she leaned into Qiu Qing’an’s embrace, slowly closing her eyes. With firm resolve, she whispered, “I don’t regret my decision.”

On the contrary, she was deeply grateful for her own courage.

If she hadn’t run away, she would never have met Qiu Qing’an, and they wouldn’t have the life they had now.

With that thought, her heart grew a little steadier.