Lady By The Pillow - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: A New Relationship (One)

Lips Getting Closer

After the interview, Shi Qing still had to remove her hairstyle, change out of her costume, take off her makeup, and return the clothes and accessories to the styling and wardrobe departments. By the time she was done, the entire interview team had left.

Wei Jiuzhen’s look was much simpler, so she had finished early, but she waited for Shi Qing.

The RV was parked conspicuously right in front of the building. Zhang Yulan jumped out of the car as soon as she saw them, waving her arms and hands at Shi Qing and Dong Ya with a zeal that made one wonder if her entire livelihood depended on it.

“Yulan,” Shi Qing said with a faint smile, her hair gently swept by the evening breeze, a stray strand brushing across the bridge of her nose. “Why didn’t you go back so late? It’s so cold out here.”

Zhang Yulan laughed heartily. “I’m not cold. I’ve been in the car with the AC on! It’s just that it’s getting late, and it might be hard for you to get a taxi back, so Sister Qi said she’d wait for you. She’s waiting inside, Shi-laoshi. You two go on up, it’s warm in the car!”

Shi Qing didn’t want to accept the favor, for too many reasons. Because her neck had reacted to a simple touch through her clothes. Because of the ambiguous answers in the interview that were deliberately crafted to create a CP dynamic. Because of the seemingly intimate ease with which Wei Jiuzhen held the microphone for her. Because she had opened the cap of the lemon-flavored drink, a flavor Shi Qing had only mentioned in passing.

There were so many “becauses” that made her afraid to face Wei Jiuzhen alone.

Wei Jiuzhen was like an irrational mist, clouding Shi Qing’s clear and pristine world until she couldn’t even see herself.

She didn’t want to get lost in a world that seemed beautiful but was actually a swirling abyss.

She decided to get in the car and make things clear with her.

Shi Qing got into the RV while Dong Ya, minding her own business, climbed into the front passenger seat.

The RV’s interior was spacious. Across from the door was a full-length bookshelf with a wide variety of books, from online novels to acting textbooks, from historical epics to romance short stories.

Wei Jiuzhen was sitting on the long sofa opposite the bookshelf, which could fit four people side by side. Wei Jiuzhen was in the innermost seat.

To be more precise, she was slumped against the innermost seat.

Her body was crooked, her head tilted back, and her mouth was slightly ajar. She was fast asleep.

For a while, Wei Jiuzhen would often sleep with her mouth open. When Shi Qing woke up in the middle of the night and saw this, she would gently close her lips. But the other person’s jaw would remain slack, and her lips would part again soon after.

Shi Qing would then roll over to grab her phone to take a picture, but as soon as she moved, Wei Jiuzhen would tighten her grip and snuggle closer, calling out, “Ah Qing,” in a sleepy voice.

You could say she was awake, but after she snuggled close, her breathing would quickly become deep and even, and she wouldn’t respond when Shi Qing called her.

You could say she wasn’t awake, but if Shi Qing made even the slightest movement, she would immediately sense it and hold her tighter while whining playfully.

Shi Qing stood in front of her, silent and still, just watching. The RV’s lights were turned to the lowest setting, shaped like orange peels, casting a warm, golden glow that spread across the cabin, fading into shadow in the distance. The light fell on Wei Jiuzhen, covering her in a thin golden veil, making her whole frame radiate a divine aura.

The kitten that used to snuggle and act spoiled in her arms had transformed into a divine sculpture resting on the earth.

For some reason, Shi Qing inexplicably pulled out her phone from her coat pocket and took a picture of the scene.

Perhaps it was because she had never been able to take one before.

She didn’t know why she was being stubborn or if she felt a sense of resentment. She hadn’t been able to capture this for a whole year, and now that it came so easily, it felt like a waste not to. But what would she do with the picture on her phone? What was the point? She didn’t know.

“Shi-laoshi! Hold on tight, I’m driving!”

Zhang Yulan’s voice came from the front partition, and Shi Qing was suddenly pulled back from that surreal world.

“Oh, okay.” She answered Zhang Yulan in a rush.

Wei Jiuzhen was startled awake by Zhang Yulan’s shout. Her eyes fluttered open in a daze, and her unfocused pupils centered on the bookshelf across from her. She scanned her surroundings and her gaze landed on Shi Qing.

Her sleeping body instantly came to attention. She sat up straight, quickly ran a hand through her hair, and said, “You’re here.”

Shi Qing pursed her lips and nonchalantly put her phone back in her pocket. “Mm.”

Wei Jiuzhen gestured to the spot next to her. “Sit down.”

So Shi Qing sat down.

The studio they were filming at this month was far from the hotel, a 40-minute drive. At Zhang Yulan’s naturally cautious pace at night, it would probably take an hour.

Wei Jiuzhen turned and switched on the main lights, flooding the cabin with a bright glow. The clear visibility, however, made the space feel more cramped than the dim lighting.

Shi Qing pressed her knees together, leaned back against the sofa, and half-lowered her gaze. Her raven-like eyelashes cast a shadow over her lower eyelids, obscuring her emotions.

After a silent standoff that lasted nearly half a minute, Wei Jiuzhen finally broke the silence, her tone cheerful and relaxed, as if she were chatting with a normal colleague.

“It’s going to be really late when we get back. It’s been a tough day.”

Shi Qing nodded slightly. “I’m alright. You have to film action scenes, so you’re probably more tired.”

Wei Jiuzhen smiled. “Nah, it’s just a bit more physically draining. You’re doing dramatic scenes; memorizing those classical lines takes a page or two at a time. It’s mentally exhausting too.”

They managed a couple of sentences, but her heart felt as if it had been sealed in plastic wrap all night, so suffocated that it felt like it would explode with a single movement.

Shi Qing stared at the book Men Explain Things to Me on the bottom shelf, constantly reminding herself of the reason she got into the car tonight. But her mind wouldn’t cooperate, constantly flashing back to the image of Wei Jiuzhen sleeping with her mouth ajar.

Every time it happened, her focus would falter, and she would have to use even greater resolve to remind herself of the topic she needed to discuss with Wei Jiuzhen tonight.

“That’s just how filming is,” she acknowledged Wei Jiuzhen’s previous words, then continued, “But you seemed very energetic during the interview.”

Wei Jiuzhen’s answer was matter-of-fact. “It’s work, after all. You have to give it your all so they’ll come back and ask you to do more events. I remember once you had a fever and were still pushing yourself to attend an event. I told you not to go, and you said the exact same thing to me.”

She was acting so composed, as if she would say the same thing to Fang Fei, Guo Xi, Lü Zhen, or any other colleague on set, if they were sitting in front of her instead of Shi Qing.

As she spoke, she braced herself and stood up, asking, “Want some orange juice? I’ll squeeze some.”

Shi Qing wanted to end this relationship where Wei Jiuzhen was always doing things for her. “No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”

Wei Jiuzhen opened the overhead cabinet as she spoke. “Then I’ll just make one for myself. I talked so much during the interview, I’m thirsty.”

Shi Qing pursed her lips. “Okay.”

So she wasn’t deliberately trying to make juice for her. She was just thirsty herself and asked as a courtesy.

She had been overthinking it.

Wei Jiuzhen took three fresh oranges from the refrigerator, cut them in half, and placed them on top of the juicer. She used the heel of her hand to press and twist the orange, her forearm perpendicular to the ground. The muscles in her arm flexed into clear lines, a smooth line extending from her elbow to her wrist, branching into fine bones on the back of her hand, and finally to her long, curved fingers.

Her gaze naturally fell on the raised callus on Wei Jiuzhen’s middle finger. Her eyelids felt hot, and she quickly looked away.

Wei Jiuzhen had beautiful handwriting, and that callus, worn down by a fountain pen, was its finest badge of honor.

The night before they broke up, they hadn’t used protection. Wei Jiuzhen had deliberately used the thickest part of her callus to repeatedly rub against Shi Qing’s sensitive areas. In the end, Shi Qing bit down on her pillow as she reached her climax, her physiological tears soaking half of the pillowcase.

Humans have an animalistic nature, but what makes us human is that our willpower should be above it.

Yet, her mind and body constantly reminded her of that crazy, absurd memory. The harder she tried to forget, the clearer she remembered.

Shi Qing hated this feeling.

The juice from three fresh oranges was too much for one glass. Wei Jiuzhen took another glass and filled it halfway.

“Ugh.” A headache. She turned to Shi Qing. “Shi-laoshi, why don’t you have a glass? Even if you’re not thirsty, it’s good for vitamins.”

It all seemed perfectly natural. She wasn’t squeezing orange juice specifically for Shi Qing, nor was she worried that she was thirsty or parched. She was simply squeezing juice for herself and “accidentally” had an extra half a glass.

It was so polite that Shi Qing had no reason to refuse. “Okay, thank you.”

She got up to go to the drink area, but Wei Jiuzhen turned and took another fresh orange from the fridge, cutting it in half.

“I’ll squeeze another one for you. Half a glass isn’t enough.”

Shi Qing reached out to take the cut orange. “I’ll do it.”

Wei Jiuzhen held the orange back. “I’ll do it. You go sit down, it’s—”

Just as she was speaking, the RV suddenly braked sharply. The loss of balance was sudden, and both of them were thrown forward by inertia.

“Ah!”

“Watch out!”

Wei Jiuzhen wrapped one arm around Shi Qing and used the other to grab a support in front of her. The instant stop made them lurch back and forth. Zhang Yulan’s curses came from the other side of the partition.

“Running a red light this late at night! Are you looking for a fight?!”

Dong Ya also cursed. “I hope you only get matched with bots! And lose 20 games in a row!”

The two assistants, still shaken, knocked on the partition. “Sister Qing, Wei-laoshi, are you two okay?”

In the back cabin, Wei Jiuzhen was using one hand to brace herself against the refrigerator in front of them and the other to hold Shi Qing’s waist, her palm pressing into the curve of her lower back, afraid that her old injury would flare up.

“We’re fine.”

Wei Jiuzhen replied to Dong Ya, then looked down at Shi Qing.

They were close. Shi Qing’s back was against the refrigerator, and her body was only a few centimeters from Wei Jiuzhen’s, almost touching. Shi Qing didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the floor diagonally below them. From Wei Jiuzhen’s perspective, she could only see her thick eyelashes.

“Are you okay?” Wei Jiuzhen asked.

Their breaths were so close it was impossible to tell them apart. All she could hear was the rush of air from her own throat and the heartbeat that she didn’t want anyone to hear.

“Mm.” Shi Qing’s reply was very soft. She moved her waist slightly, and the palm on her lower back felt like it was scorching her skin.

“Thank you.”

As a composed adult, she had said her piece, and Wei Jiuzhen should have let go.

But Wei Jiuzhen didn’t. Not only did she not let go, but she also pressed her palm harder, closing the last few centimeters between them.

“You!”

The moment their soft bodies met, Shi Qing jerked her head up, putting her hands between them. However, Wei Jiuzhen had pressed the space between them so tightly that her action looked more like a provocative tease.

“Let me go.”

Wei Jiuzhen gazed at her, not making any further moves, but her eyes had shed all pretense of politeness. She stared at Shi Qing’s reddening earlobes and whispered, “Your ears are red.”

Shi Qing was taken aback. That’s impossible.

She knew what her reddening ears meant. Wei Jiuzhen had even deliberately pulled her in front of a mirror to show her. She knew her body was weak and that the slightest hint of emotion would make her ears turn red. But she never expected it to be this weak.

“I was just startled,” Shi Qing said, turning her head away, unwilling to admit it.

“That’s not it.” Wei Jiuzhen’s voice was almost a charm. “You get pale when you’re startled, not red ears. Your red ears only mean one thing… Ah Qing, you’re moved.”

Wei Jiuzhen’s voice was special. It wasn’t the delicate sound of a typical woman, nor the deliberate roughness of a fake one. It was like a wind instrument in an orchestra, creating a resonant and penetrating sound as the air moved through the reed.

That magic was captivating, drawing people in, one step after another, into a distant, beautiful deep sea.

She knew her vocal advantage and she knew Shi Qing liked to hear her speak in a low voice from up close. So, as she spoke, she slowly leaned in, her hand caressing Shi Qing’s cheek, gently tilting up her beautiful face.

Just inches apart, their lips slowly drew closer.