After getting ready, the two women left the hotel.

Feng Zhimei paused when she saw the person beside Lin Wanqing. “Jiang You?”

Shi Mi nodded. She was dressed in black from head to toe—black clothes, black pants, a black baseball cap, and a black mask—completely covered up and radiating a “keep away” aura. No wonder Feng Zhimei hadn’t recognized her.

Feng Zhimei teased, “You look like a bodyguard.”

Shi Mi tipped her baseball cap, revealing her bright eyes, and corrected her. “Not a bodyguard. I’m a tea-pouring, shoulder-massaging, leg-kneading little follower.”

“Right, Madam Patron?”

Lin Wanqing’s heart fluttered with a mix of sweetness and bitterness at being called “Madam Patron.” She lifted her chin slightly, feigning arrogance. “Of course.”

“Aiyo!” Feng Zhimei chuckled, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “Jiang You sent Cheng Yun to the hospital with just two slaps. Isn’t shoulder-massaging and leg-kneading a bit of a waste?”

“Let’s get in the car.”

Before bending to enter the car, Lin Wanqing turned to Feng Zhimei and said, “Sister Zhimei, I don’t want to see Song Wei in the industry anymore. Take care of it.”

“Got it.”

Sensing the icy tone in Lin Wanqing’s voice, Feng Zhimei understood that Song Wei had truly crossed the line this time.

On the bright side, Song Wei always brought her plenty of work. This year’s year-end bonus was going to be exceptionally generous.

Hearing this, Shi Mi’s eyes curved into a warm smile. She tucked Lin Wanqing’s hair behind her ear, leaned close, and whispered, “Madam Patron really has my back. Guess warming your bed isn’t enough, huh? How about I offer myself as payment?”

How about I offer myself as payment? The words were soft and teasing, carrying a hint of seduction.

Lin Wanqing turned her head, catching the mischievous glint in Shi Mi’s eyes. Her face flushed uncontrollably, her heart pounding. She pushed Shi Mi away, protesting, “Dream on! Get away from me!”

“But how can I? As Madam Patron’s little follower, I have to stick close.”

With that, Shi Mi took Lin Wanqing’s hand.

The tickle in Lin Wanqing’s ear and Shi Mi’s shamelessness left her utterly helpless.

She’s supposed to be my little follower, so why do I feel like the one being followed? And why am I the one being teased?!

Lin Wanqing’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Sister Zhimei is still here!”

Feng Zhimei: “Just pretend I’m not here.”

She finally understood. She’d thought Jiang You was a fresh, innocent little cabbage, but it turned out Wanqing was the flower waiting to be plucked.

She’s definitely going to fall into Jiang You’s hands.

Seeing Lin Wanqing’s face flush with embarrassment, Shi Mi’s heart stirred. A smile tugged at her lips. I can’t tease her any further.

If I tease her any further, she’ll blow her top.

The drive from the hotel to the film set was short, only about ten minutes.

Feng Zhimei, ever the pragmatist, said, “Then I won’t come with you. Be careful and don’t get caught.”

“Okay.”

After greeting Lin Wanqing, the crew’s gazes naturally shifted to Shi Mi behind her. It wasn’t hard to see why—Shi Mi’s all-black attire was strikingly unusual.

Curiosity followed the initial appraisal. Lin Wanqing always arrived on set with her manager, Feng Zhimei. Why wasn’t Feng Zhimei here today? Who was this woman?

Dressing Room.

The Costume Designer wheeled a rack of costumes over. “Sister Wanqing, these are your costumes for today’s scenes. They’ve been washed and pressed.”

The Legend of Autumn Splendor was a female-lead drama, with costumes meticulously recreated based on historical texts. Each set was exquisitely crafted and surprisingly heavy.

Lin Wanqing picked up an inner garment and turned to enter the changing room, only to find Shi Mi following her. She stopped. “I need to change.”

Shi Mi placed her hands behind her back, leaned in slightly, and whispered in a low voice, audible only to the two of them, “I’m your little assistant, remember? What if you can’t zip up your dress?”

Her words involuntarily brought to Lin Wanqing’s mind that earlier remark: How did you know I like black lace? Wear it for me in bed later, okay?

“Zippers in ancient costumes? You bastard! This is definitely intentional!”

Lin Wanqing angrily shoved her aside. “Get out of my way!”

Inside the dressing room, the Costume Designer and her two assistants were stunned. Were they seeing things? Was that really Lin Wanqing?

The industry gossip claimed Lin Wanqing came from a noble lineage, the daughter of a prominent family. But they were too far removed from the upper echelons of society to know which family.

Lin Wanqing used a stunt double for all kissing and intimate scenes, but otherwise, she was remarkably dedicated, a skilled actress who endured hardship without complaint.

Off-screen, she was a completely different person—not temperamental like a spoiled heiress, but aloof and reserved, keeping even her co-stars at arm’s length.

Was that just Lin Wanqing having a spat with her partner?

They exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued by the figure in black.

Slightly taller than Lin Wanqing, with a slender frame, the all-black attire exuded an air of mystery and depth. A few strands of hair clung to the nape of their neck, and a baseball cap was pulled low over their face.

Though their features were obscured, the slender, clearly defined knuckles of their hands were striking.

Perhaps sensing their gaze, the figure tilted the cap slightly, revealing a pair of bright, sharp eyes.

The assistants hastily averted their eyes.

Lin Wanqing quickly changed into her next costume: a white inner robe and trousers. She tucked her long hair behind her ears, exposing her delicate earlobes, giving her a fresh, refined appearance.

The costume designer and her two assistants took the costumes and began dressing Lin Wanqing piece by piece.

A light blue, high-collared long robe featured pink plum blossoms embroidered on its sleeves and hem. A deep blue horse-face skirt, nearly six meters long, was wrapped twice around her waist, its hem embroidered with lifelike white cranes in meticulous detail.

A dark blue cloud-patterned shoulder cape completed the ensemble, lending her an air of dignified grandeur.

After she was dressed, the stylist and makeup artist entered to work simultaneously.

The makeup artist, Liu Zhi, was known for her cheerful personality and often chatted with Lin Wanqing. After glancing at Shi Mi, she asked, “Wanqing, aren’t you going to introduce her?”

Everyone in the room perked up their ears, their curiosity piqued.

Lin Wanqing’s lips curled into a slight smirk. “Oh, her? She’s just my little errand girl—fetching tea, massaging my shoulders, that sort of thing.”

As if to prove her point, Lin Wanqing stretched out her long legs and lazily propped them on a footstool. “I’m thirsty.”

Shi Mi lowered the brim of her hat, a faint smile curving beneath her mask. “What would you like? Coffee?”

Lin Wanqing’s voice was equally languid. “Surprise me.”

The stylist chimed in, “Do you even know where the coffee shop is?”

Shi Mi’s eyes, visible beneath her hat, met Lin Wanqing’s. “My efficiency is top-notch.”

Just an errand girl? Why had Lin Wanqing suddenly acquired one?

The news spread like wildfire, from one person to ten, then to a hundred, engulfing the entire film crew in less than ten minutes. Their gossip-hungry hearts burned fiercely.

“If Sister Wanqing says she’s just a follower, then she’s just a follower.”

“You actually believe that? In all these years, when have you ever seen Lin Wanqing with anyone besides Feng Zhimei? Their relationship must be something special.”

“Exactly! The way Sister Wanqing looks at her is different. The atmosphere between them is so strange… Maybe she’s Sister Wanqing’s lover?”

“Whoa, that’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think? Lovers are kept at home like caged birds, not made to be followers! That’s just absurd.”

“Well, you never know. Isn’t sneaking around more exciting?”

“All of you! Stop gossiping and get back to work! What are you all doing here?!”

After eight takes, the scene was finally approved. Lin Huanhuan, drenched in sweat, collapsed into a rocking chair to rest. Hearing the crew’s murmurs, she asked her assistant, Chang Bing, “What’s going on?”

Chang Bing replied slowly, “Lin Wanqing came to the set today with a new follower. Everyone’s speculating about their relationship.”

Chapter 22: Shi Mi

Upon hearing this, Lin Huanhuan paused, then burst into laughter.

Lin Wanqing? The eldest daughter of the Lin Family, so refined and unattainable, like the moon in the sky.

A mere assistant, a lowly worker, probably temporarily assigned by Feng Zhimei to look after Lin Wanqing.

What connection could the moon in the sky possibly have with the mud on the ground?

Yet the sudden appearance of a new face has caused such a commotion, with everyone gossiping wildly.

Lin Huanhuan felt nothing but contempt for their gossip, a faint sense of superiority rising within her.

She was related to the Lin Family, not a distant relative, and could even call Lin Wanqing “Cousin Wanqing.”

This simple title earned her preferential treatment from many insiders who knew the truth.

Well, I can’t blame them for their ignorance. How many people in the entertainment industry truly know Lin Wanqing’s real identity?

It was a muggy summer night. Lin Huanhuan, sweltering in her heavy costume, was drenched in sweat. The industrial fan only gave her a headache; a hand-held palm-leaf fan would have been much cooler.

Lin Huanhuan reclined comfortably in her rocking chair. “Haven’t you eaten?”

Chang Bing remained silent, switching to fanning with both hands, the increased speed sending a refreshing breeze her way.

Lin Huanhuan glanced at her. “If you hadn’t met me, you’d probably still be begging for food somewhere.”

“Thank you, Sister Huanhuan.”

Lin Huanhuan scoffed. “No need for thanks. I just took a liking to you back then. Call it fate. I’m a bit thirsty.”

Chang Bing set down the palm-leaf fan and scurried off to pour a glass of ice water.

Lin Huanhuan took a sip, the icy chill sliding down her throat with a slight sting. She frowned. “Too cold.”

Chang Bing hurried back to fetch a glass of ice water without ice. This time, Lin Huanhuan didn’t complain. She picked up the palm-leaf fan and began fanning herself.

Holding the glass, Lin Huanhuan recalled how her cousin Wanqing, a woman of noble lineage from the late Qing dynasty, used to drink water—her every gesture exuding elegance and refinement.

Just then, she spotted Shi Mi emerging from the dressing room. “Isn’t that Cousin Wanqing’s little follower?”

Chang Bing glanced over, her hands still busy. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Stop fanning. Go fetch her.”

Chang Bing nodded and ran to Shi Mi. “Sister Huanhuan wants to see you.”

Ever since leaving the dressing room, Shi Mi had felt an intense gaze scrutinizing her. She ignored it, never expecting to encounter a roadblock.

Sister Huanhuan?

“I don’t know her,” Shi Mi said, trying to sidestep Chang Bing.

But Chang Bing blocked her path. “Sister Huanhuan is Lin Wanqing’s cousin.”

She emphasized the words “Lin Wanqing’s cousin.”

Upon hearing the name “Lin Wanqing,” Shi Mi paused, following the intense gaze to find a woman in a crimson, gold-embroidered horse-face skirt reclining in a rocking chair.

As the chair swayed, the bells on her hairpin jingled. She sipped from a glass, her posture striking Shi Mi as familiar—a clumsy imitation of Lin Wanqing, bordering on the absurd.

Yet the woman met Shi Mi’s gaze without flinching, a smug smile playing on her lips, as if she had stumbled upon something immensely amusing.

Shi Mi averted her eyes, tugging her hat lower. “Oh, tell Sister Huanhuan I’m still Lin Wanqing’s little errand girl.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Chang Bing hesitated, then let her go, hurrying back to relay the message verbatim to Lin Huanhuan.

Lin Huanhuan took a sip of her iced water, her smile icy. That little errand girl is just like Feng Zhimei—a mere manager acting like half the owner, meddling in Cousin Wanqing’s affairs.

What right does she have?

Following her memory of the route, Shi Mi found a café and ordered an iced Americano. The place wasn’t crowded, and her drink was ready in about ten minutes.

As she walked back with her iced Americano, she overheard someone say, “Sister Song Wei, what are you looking at?” She tugged her hat lower.

Across the street, Song Wei watched the figure in black clothes and pants, thinking the silhouette vaguely resembled Jiang You. But after a moment’s consideration, she dismissed the idea as unlikely.

Jiang You was undoubtedly besieged by paparazzi at home, terrified and unable to eat or sleep, her cries for help unanswered.

It was only a matter of days before the entertainment reporters would break the story.

The thought filled Song Wei with satisfaction.

When Shi Mi returned to the dressing room, Lin Wanqing was already fully made up, her hair styled into an elaborate updo. A crimson floral hudian adorned her forehead, and a jade hairpin wrapped in silver and gold secured her hair.

The moment Shi Mi saw her, her gaze shifted. The Lin Wanqing she knew had always been either aloof and elegant or coy and alluring. Now, her features radiated a heroic spirit, dignified and majestic, her bearing regal and graceful—a true embodiment of worldly splendor.

Lin Wanqing took the coffee, playfully complaining, “Why did it take you so long to get coffee?”

It had been less than twenty minutes. Liu Zhi was stunned, glancing at Lin Wanqing. They say a day apart feels like three autumns, but you’ve been gone less than twenty minutes and it feels like three lifetimes!

Standing behind her, Shi Mi gazed at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes brimming with admiration and affection. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in ancient drama attire. It suits you perfectly.”

In the dimly lit dressing room, their eyes met in the mirror. Shi Mi’s tone was calm, devoid of any flirtation, yet sincere and heartfelt.

That single sentence surpassed countless declarations of love.

Lin Wanqing’s eyes curved slightly, but her tone remained composed. “My shoulders are sore.”

“Mm, I’ll massage them for you.”

Through the heavy layers of her costume, Shi Mi’s touch was firm yet gentle, easing Lin Wanqing’s discomfort. Her eyes narrowed slightly, like a cat basking lazily in the sun.

Though physically relaxed, Lin Wanqing’s mind wandered. Her technique is so skilled—did she practice? she couldn’t help but ask.

“How did you become so proficient at this?”

Shi Mi chuckled softly, leaning close to whisper in her ear, “I’ve been preparing for a long time to serve Madam Patron well. I’ll massage you every day from now on, okay?”

Lin Wanqing immediately adopted a haughty tone. “It’s… alright. Nothing special.”

Soon, a production assistant called Lin Wanqing to prepare for filming. Her costume and headdress were heavy, so Shi Mi helped her walk out.

Lin Huanhuan spotted Lin Wanqing and rushed over, her voice dripping with flattery. “Cousin Wanqing!”

Lin Wanqing responded with a cool acknowledgment.

Lin Huanhuan was accustomed to Lin Wanqing’s aloofness. While she fawned over Lin Wanqing, her gaze toward Shi Mi was filled with disdain.

After the pair left, Chang Bing asked, puzzled, “Sister Huanhuan, why didn’t you tell Lin Wanqing about what happened earlier?”

Lin Huanhuan tapped Chang Bing’s forehead with a crimson-tipped finger, the scarlet nail striking against her snow-white skin. “Are you stupid? If I did that, wouldn’t I be a petty person?”

Besides, asking Cousin Wanqing to avenge her? That’s insane.

Chang Bing looked confused. “Then why are we making trouble for the little follower?”

“Are you really stupid or just pretending? That little follower doesn’t know her place, prancing around in front of Cousin Wanqing.”

“Cousin Wanqing might not care about such things, but I can’t let it slide. Of course I need to teach that little follower a lesson. Learn from me.”

Chang Bing nodded.

After resting briefly, Lin Wanqing was called back to set.

The chaise lounge still retained Lin Wanqing’s warmth. Shi Mi lay down, feeling the lingering warmth, and propped her hands behind her head, squinting contentedly as she watched Lin Wanqing filming nearby.

Once Lin Wanqing was in character, her entire aura sharpened, like a sword drawn from its sheath.

She sat regally on a carved red sandalwood imperial chair, leaning against a golden silk cushion. Palace maids prostrated themselves on the ground, trembling in fear.

Shi Mi’s gaze remained fixed on Lin Wanqing’s face, her heart swelling with joy. My wife is beautiful no matter how I look at her.

Suddenly, darkness fell over her eyes as a flash of crimson fabric filled her vision. It was Lin Huanhuan.