Reborn! Entangled with the Obsessive Best Actress - Chapter 8

Before Song Qingxing could explain, Yu Zhi had already left the room. Xie Jingcheng chuckled softly in resignation and settled onto the hotel sofa.

“I thought if I woke up early, you might not have had breakfast yet. But I suppose I was overthinking it.”

Xie Jingcheng had a dedicated nutritionist and rarely overindulged. Unlike some celebrities who secretly snacked, her self-control was terrifyingly strong.

“You didn’t need to prepare so much. I can’t possibly eat all this.”

Song Qingxing naturally had a bird-like appetite, though she envied those who could eat voraciously without gaining weight. She loved food, but her tiny stomach could only hold a few bites.

Moreover, to maintain her figure, she could only sniff at high-oil, high-fat, and high-calorie dishes, nibbling at a few meat crumbs.

“By the way, are you going to kiss me again today?”

Song Qingxing hadn’t forgotten her duties. She decided to satisfy Xie Jingcheng first, hoping it would make her feel more comfortable asking for a favor later.

“Tonight,” Xie Jingcheng replied, rising to leave.

“Xie Jingcheng, even though you’re my patron now, I still have to ask: is this really all you want from me?”

Xie Jingcheng understood Song Qingxing’s concern. In this industry, it was an unspoken rule: to get resources, you had to offer something in return.

Of course, exceptional actors were the exception.

She extended her hand, its back pale and smooth. Xie Jingcheng’s fingers were slender and well-defined, her nails neatly trimmed and rarely adorned with anything beyond occasional cuticle oil.

She tapped Song Qingxing’s upturned nose with a playful smile.

“Don’t worry,” Xie Jingcheng said, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’m not short on money or resources. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. I just have a few… quirks.”

People often said the wealthy had peculiar tastes.

Song Qingxing was witnessing this firsthand today.

Well, at least it’s not something outrageous like collecting nose hairs, she thought. I can handle this.

In the end, Song Qingxing kept the sandwich Xie Jingcheng had brought her. After all, her subconscious soul was already nearing thirty.

At least she knew how to make her partner happy.

Even if she secretly disliked the gift, she had to pretend to love it.

She only took a couple of sips of the porridge and one large bite of the sandwich.

The rest she gave to Yu Zhi.

Surprisingly, the sandwich was quite delicious, as if made by a five-star chef. She wondered where Xie Jingcheng had gotten it.

But with her family’s vast wealth, they probably had a five-star chef on staff.

Song Qingxing felt like she’d struck gold eight lifetimes over, landing such a generous patron who didn’t demand s3x but showered her with food and resources.

What a sucker!

Ahem… I shouldn’t think of my patron that way, she scolded herself inwardly. After tidying up, she and her assistant, whose belly was now round from the meal, took the elevator downstairs.

The hotel was conveniently located just a short drive from the film studio—less than fifteen minutes.

Thankfully, the hotel was specifically built for the film studio. Otherwise, Song Qingxing estimated it would have taken two or three hours by car to reach the nearest hotel.

Before long, they arrived in Hengdian. Filming was nearing its final stages, and everyone’s spirits were high. After months of shooting in this godforsaken place, they could finally leave.

Xie Jingcheng had already arrived.

Her long hair was tied up.

She wore a baseball cap to shield her from the sun, her eyes slightly narrowed, and her lashes curled upward.

With one leg crossed, she flipped through the script, even though she could recite the lines by heart. A pen was clutched in her hand, and she occasionally jotted down notes about her character’s inner thoughts and areas for improvement in her performance.

Song Qingxing’s face flushed crimson as she watched.

She felt deeply embarrassed.

Xie Jingcheng was far more dedicated than she was. No wonder she had remained a top star for so many years.

Perhaps the rumors online—that her success was solely due to her family connections—weren’t entirely true.

Xie Jingcheng clearly had talent. Song Qingxing had seen her films before, and her eyes conveyed a depth of emotion, a longing that words couldn’t capture—a level of performance few actresses could achieve.

Moreover, her striking, androgynous looks had allowed her to play many male cameo roles, resulting in numerous popular fan-made videos showcasing her handsome clips online.

Every time, her performances left many viewers with nosebleeds.

Her gentlemanly demeanor, striking looks, and impeccable character had laid a solid foundation for her reputation.

Song Qingxing couldn’t fathom why someone like Xie Jingcheng would ever be interested in her.

It wasn’t self-deprecation; the gap between them felt like an insurmountable chasm. Even if Xie Jingcheng were to fall to her lowest point, breaking her legs in the process, Song Qingxing was certain she would crawl back to the top on her shattered limbs.

“She’s here,” Xie Jingcheng announced, setting down her script and striding forward with decisive steps, her mind churning with conflicting thoughts.

The truth was, she had dreamed last night.

Her doctor had advised her to find a female companion to relieve stress and release pent-up emotions.

But… Xie Jingcheng didn’t want to fall in love so quickly. She merely sought someone who stirred her desire, someone to temporarily satisfy her urges.

Hence her recent, unusually attentive behavior.

This sudden shift in character stunned the crew. Their eyes widened in disbelief, and they abandoned their tasks to gawk.

One worker, carrying a milk tea, didn’t notice the iron pole ahead and crashed into it with a resounding bang that echoed across the set.

The collision erupted in laughter.

Song Qingxing was speechless. Couldn’t these people show some restraint?

Gawking so openly felt inappropriate.

Under a large parasol nearby sat a man, the male lead of the drama. However, this art film primarily told the story of two women.

Calling him the male lead was merely a courtesy.

His total screen time didn’t even match the combined duration of the two female leads’ bathing scenes.

Peng Zhi’en had taken this role primarily to pursue Xie Jingcheng, whose family background was exceptionally prestigious.

Climbing such a high branch would make him more than just a “phoenix man”—he’d become a golden phoenix man!

Yet, with the filming nearing its end, he had barely exchanged a few words with Xie Jingcheng. Still, he stubbornly refused to leave, clinging to the hope of obtaining her contact information.

Now, his last hope had been shattered. Who could have imagined that Song Qingxing would pluck this delicate flower before he could?

He had even watched the hotel video from that day.

Xie Jingcheng had never done such things herself; she was always surrounded by three or four assistants.

Though she was approachable, her obsessive cleanliness and refusal to handle trivial tasks were undeniable.

In short, she had no eye for practical matters.

These were all remnants of her pampered upbringing, but her exceptional acting skills naturally overshadowed these minor flaws.

No, this can’t continue.

Peng Zhi’en narrowed his eyes, a plan forming in his mind.

Peng Zhi’en was no slouch himself. Though only in his mid-twenties, he had already been nominated for Best Actor multiple times, earning him the nickname “the uncrowned king of cinema.”

But he knew the truth.

It wasn’t that he lacked the talent to win Best Actor.

The award was simply monopolized year after year. Even the world’s most prestigious ceremonies were undoubtedly rigged.

What he lacked was money and connections. That’s why he had to win Xie Jingcheng over.