Strategy to Conquer the Vicious Female Supporting Character [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 24

The atmosphere was unbearably awkward for a moment.

Seeing someone’s photo on file and meeting them in person were two completely different things — Zhou Qingyi in real life looked much more attractive than in the picture. The instant Xuan Wu got a clear look at Zhou Qingyi’s face, his cheeks flushed red, yet he still forced himself to sneer sarcastically, “Well, well, speak of the devil and she appears. What timing.”

Zhou Qingyi was momentarily stunned, then acted as if she hadn’t heard or seen anything. She smiled warmly at the team members and said, “Hello seniors, I’m Zhou Qingyi. I’ve just joined and still don’t know much. I hope you’ll be patient with me. From here on, we’ll have to rely on our joint efforts for a lot of things.”

Composed, poised, neither servile nor arrogant — that was Ye Ling’s first impression of Zhou Qingyi.

But the other team members didn’t take it well. Most of them treated Zhou Qingyi like air, going about their business without even acknowledging her, clearly intending to isolate her through cold indifference.

A few, with tempers as short as Xuan Wu’s, even smirked mockingly or rolled their eyes outright. Their disdain for Zhou Qingyi was practically tangible.

Zhou Qingyi, however, didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable. By reasoning through the clues, she figured out which desk was hers and sat down to familiarize herself with the files left by the former team leader.

Naturally, the Special Operations Unit’s files weren’t something just anyone could understand at a glance. Some were classified, and Zhou Qingyi couldn’t hope to fully grasp them right away. The other members were more than happy to watch the new parachuted-in leader struggle; not a single one was willing to lift a finger to help.

In the end, it was Ye Ling who couldn’t stand it anymore and came forward of her own accord. “Team Leader, would you like me to help you take a look?”

Zhou Qingyi was well aware of her awkward position, but she could only pretend she didn’t notice, feigning ignorance until this period passed. After all, the members’ resentment toward her for replacing the old leader also reflected something else about them, loyalty, a sense of brotherhood, and sincerity. They disliked her openly, right on their faces, rather than smiling politely while stabbing her in the back. That alone was far preferable.

She had braced herself for the worst, yet unexpectedly, someone was willing to lend a hand. For a moment, she was both surprised and grateful, smiling as she said, “Then I’ll trouble you, senior.”

And so, Ye Ling became the first member of the Special Operations Unit Zhou Qingyi truly remembered.

Over the next year or two, the Operations Unit resolved several cases that had remained unsolved under the old leader. Time and again, they brushed shoulders with death, and these experiences gradually eased the tension between Zhou Qingyi and her teammates. Her impressive investigative skills, decision-making ability, and operational competence finally made the members realize that the higher-ups had replaced the old leader with this young, beautiful woman for a reason — and a very sound one.

Even Xuan Wu, who had owed his life to the old leader and thus held a particularly strong grudge against Zhou Qingyi, eventually, albeit grudgingly, acknowledged her. He even started a romantic relationship with her.

As the team took on more and more dangerous missions, some members were killed, injured, or reassigned, while new ones joined. Under Zhou Qingyi’s leadership, the reputation of the Special Operations Unit grew louder and louder.

Among all the members, the ones closest to Zhou Qingyi were still Xuan Wu and Ye Ling. With Xuan Wu, she had a “frenemies” dynamic — they bickered and teased each other constantly, but in critical moments, they could entrust their backs to one another without hesitation.

Ye Ling, on the other hand, was more of a guide. It was her gentle patience that helped Zhou Qingyi slowly get to know the team. When Zhou Qingyi hit a wall in a case, Ye Ling often guided her toward new ideas. Even in daily life, Zhou Qingyi enjoyed sharing her doubts and questions with her.

Though Ye Ling’s intellect was even sharper than Zhou Qingyi’s, an old injury from her early missions had severely limited her mobility. As such, she rarely took part in missions directly, instead handling intelligence and logistics support from the rear.

On-screen, audiences often saw Zhou Qingyi fighting at the frontlines while Ye Ling coordinated from the office, the two of them piecing together the truth step by step from different angles and perspectives.

Just when everything seemed to be running smoothly, disaster struck.

Ye Ling’s family, blinded by greed, became entangled in an underground market. To protect them, Ye Ling was forced to make deals with the shadowy organizations that lurked below.

Her extraordinary intelligence quickly drew the attention of high-ranking figures in that underworld. They wanted nothing more than to see her sink deeper and deeper into the mire until she could no longer escape — so that she could be theirs to use.

No matter how smart she was, Ye Ling was still only one person. How could she stand alone against so many ill-intentioned forces working together with careful planning?

And so, in the end, things unfolded just as they had wished. Ye Ling was swallowed by that murky darkness, her body and soul stained with filth that could never again be washed clean.

The audience could see that Ye Ling lived with two faces, on one side, she was the gentle, reliable strategist of the Special Operations Unit; on the other, she was a devil in the underground market, killing people without batting an eye.

There are no walls that cannot be pierced through, and paper can never fully hide fire. A few years later, the Special Operations Unit still ended up taking on a case committed by Ye Ling.

The victim had been a person of high status and influence. The case was of great importance, and the pressure from above was immense — leaving the Special Operations Unit very little time.

But the killer’s methods were far too sophisticated. It was a flawless high-IQ murder. Aside from a dagger at the scene, completely devoid of fingerprints, almost no usable evidence could be found.

Zhou Qingyi felt an unprecedented sense of difficulty.

Before the Special Operations Unit had even found any leads, Ye Ling struck again, killing another prominent figure of equal standing. Once again, a fingerprintless dagger of the same style was left by the body.

Now the case was not only even more confusing, but also of far graver nature. Out of habit, Zhou Qingyi tried discussing it with Ye Ling, only to be led astray by Ye Ling’s deliberately ambiguous words.

At this point, the Unit was under even heavier pressure and in a far more desperate situation. Several team members had already lost their lives in the line of duty.

Among them was Zhou Qingyi’s boyfriend, Xuan Wu.

The grief, exhaustion, torment, and anxiety Zhou Qingyi had been bottling up for days — together with the anguish and fury of losing both comrades and lover — finally exploded during Xuan Wu’s funeral.

Zhou Qingyi cried hysterically, to the point of collapse, kneeling in the rain with nothing left in her heart and eyes but despair.

She was ready to give up.

In the end, it was Ye Ling who rushed into the rain, holding up the crumbling Zhou Qingyi, comforting her for a long time until Zhou Qingyi finally calmed down.

After the funeral, Zhou Qingyi never smiled again. She became like a machine stripped of emotions, throwing herself recklessly and relentlessly into investigating the case.

If not for Ye Ling constantly being by her side, Zhou Qingyi might not have lived long enough to solve the case — she would have followed her comrades and lover into death first.

The third murder came as expected, after some time had passed.

Once again, the victim was a person of great power and status. Once again, a fingerprintless dagger was left at the scene.

But Zhou Qingyi, being an exceptionally skilled special police officer, managed this time to discover several suspicious points through her own ability.

When Ye Ling accidentally revealed a flaw, Zhou Qingyi followed the trail and finally uncovered the truth.

Her shock at that moment was indescribable. If there were anyone in the world she would never have suspected, the very first name on that list would have been Ye Ling.

Yet the person she trusted most was precisely the sole perpetrator behind this entire string of serial murders.

Zhou Qingyi nearly broke down.

All this time, it was Ye Ling — comforting and supporting her on one hand, while orchestrating the killings on the other; grieving over the comrades’ deaths, while personally creating even more deaths?!

Zhou Qingyi couldn’t even tell if what she felt more strongly was disbelief, sorrow, or disappointment.

She almost wished she had never discovered the truth at all.

But she was an outstanding officer. In the shortest time possible, she adjusted her emotions.

After all, this time, there would be no one rushing in to hold her and comfort her when she fell apart.

When Zhou Qingyi finally led her people to arrest Ye Ling, they found her already dead.

Beside the body lay a dagger that Zhou Qingyi knew all too well.

The fourth dagger… For a moment, Zhou Qingyi actually felt a little relieved. Maybe she had miscalculated earlier, maybe Ye Ling wasn’t the killer after all — otherwise, how could she have become a victim herself?

But very quickly, she realized that wasn’t the case.

The fourth dagger bore fingerprints. They were Ye Ling’s.

Ye Ling had died by suicide.

And the letter Ye Ling left behind for Zhou Qingyi finally revealed the whole truth.

Primitive methods of communication are often more secure than high-tech ones, and Ye Ling knew this well.

The letter was handwritten, on thick stacks of paper.

In a calm tone, Ye Ling explained the reasons and process that led her into the black market. She then told Zhou Qingyi that the first victim and the dagger found beside him had merely been a coincidence. At that time, she had no intention of creating a serial murder case. Even the fact that the case attracted the attention of the Special Operations Unit was beyond her expectations.

It was only after the Special Operations Unit took over the case that she conceived the idea for the next two daggers.

Ye Ling wrote that she had been trapped in the darkness for far too long — and she was exhausted.

The second and third victims that followed, no matter how prestigious they appeared in public, were equally powerful and infamous in the black market. They were the main culprits who had dragged Ye Ling into the darkness in the first place.

Ye Ling’s killings had been acts of revenge.

Originally, she had planned to ride this wave and kill as many of those who had wronged her as possible. With the intervention of the highly capable Special Operations Unit, the black market had fallen into a state of alarm. The guilt-ridden grew panicked, and the more nervous they became, the easier they were to expose themselves. That was how Ye Ling found her opportunities.

So in the beginning, the clues she handed over to Zhou Qingyi were vague, deliberately misleading her into the wrong conclusions.

But after personally witnessing comrades who had risked their lives beside her fall one after another, and after seeing her cheerful, openhearted best friend Zhou Qingyi collapse in despair, Ye Ling’s thoughts began to change.

She was human, after all. And humans have emotions. When you care about someone, your heart softens.

That was why the third dagger appeared a little later — she was waiting until Zhou Qingyi’s mental state had somewhat recovered.

The flaw that appeared afterward had also been deliberately planted by Ye Ling. In fact, many of the “accidental” discoveries Zhou Qingyi stumbled upon had all been Ye Ling’s doing.

Ye Ling wrote, Squad Leader, I’m sorry.

She also wrote that she chose to end her own life with the fourth dagger instead of waiting for the law to judge her, because the former was much quicker than the latter.

She was simply too tired — she couldn’t bear to endure even one more second.

Ye Ling included in her letter a trove of classified intelligence she had gathered over the years from the black market, enough for the Special Operations Unit to achieve countless merits.

It was, at most, a meager attempt at compensation — for Zhou Qingyi, and for the comrades in the Operations Unit who were still alive.

At the very end of the letter were words meant only for Zhou Qingyi.

Squad Leader, I chose to lay out the whole truth — not because I want your pity, not because I want you to feel guilty for not noticing my abnormalities sooner and helping me, and certainly not to shirk any responsibility.

After all, every step of the road beneath our feet is walked by ourselves. From the beginning, I had chances to escape. Later, I even had the option to wash my hands clean and walk away. But I was blinded — by the thrill of killing, the easy and enormous wealth, the admiration and fear from others. It was only after I was worn down to the bone that the first stirrings of regret surfaced.

All I want is to tell you, completely and without hiding or embellishing a single detail, that in this world, there are people like me — people who have lived through what I lived through.

Squad Leader, no matter how much grief and despair you’ve experienced before, and no matter how many hardships and obstacles you may face on the road ahead, it can’t possibly be worse than what I’ve been through.

So, Squad Leader, you must keep going. Live well. Eat properly, rest properly. There will definitely be better people and better things waiting for you in the future.

I don’t want to see you like a walking corpse anymore.

Alright?

You’ve always listened to me — I’ll take it as your promise.

Otherwise, even in the eighteenth level of hell, I won’t be at peace.

Squad Leader, farewell forever.

Zhou Qingyi had to summon every last ounce of strength just to keep her tears from soaking through the important letter that contained top-secret intelligence.

In the film’s final act, Zhou Qingyi led the special operations team to destroy the underground market where Ye Ling had once been active.

That place, swallowed in darkness for so long, finally saw a few rays of sunlight.

But Ye Ling could never see it again.

According to Ye Ling’s last wishes, Zhou Qingyi had her body cremated and scattered the ashes in a remote mountain forest, letting them drift away with the wind.

Not to mention Qi Lin, who had begun studying “The Fourth Dagger’s” script shortly after arriving in this novel world — Dong Zheng herself had carefully studied the script long before joining the crew.

For a while, the two of them had even trained together, rehearsing many confrontation scenes. Coupled with their top-tier professionalism and skill, the presence of both leads pushed the efficiency of “The Fourth Dagger’s” crew to an almost unreal level.

Perhaps it was because people in love tend to lose their sharpness, but even someone as perceptive as Dong Zheng didn’t notice Qi Lin’s unusual behavior on set at first. It wasn’t until Qi Lin performed the scenes where Ye Ling stumbled into the underground market by accident and spiraled step by step into ruin, that Dong Zheng finally sensed something was wrong.

Qi Lin was pushing herself too hard.

Saying that Qi Lin was overexerting herself this time didn’t mean she hadn’t been serious before. If Qi Lin’s past work ethic could be described as giving her all, then during the filming of “The Fourth Dagger”, she was burning herself out, running far beyond her limits.

Everyone in the crew knew why “The Fourth Dagger” had been planned and produced, and the outside world knew it too — it was made with the Golden Film Awards in its sights.

Dong Zheng understood Qi Lin’s devotion to acting, and how the Best Actress Award at the Golden Film Awards was every actress’s lifelong dream. So when Qi Lin said she wanted to move behind the camera within five years, for the sake of making their relationship safer, what Dong Zheng felt wasn’t just touched, but also deeply shaken and surprised. She quickly stopped Qi Lin from making that decision.

No matter the relationship, sacrifices are never perfectly equal. One person always gives more. Between the two of them, it had always been Qi Lin who sacrificed more.

Dong Zheng couldn’t allow her to sacrifice even more than she already had.

But no matter how determined and ambitious Qi Lin was, Dong Zheng knew her too well. Qi Lin was someone who excelled at planning ahead, who was highly capable, who should always have been confident and in control.

Or rather — this kind of work, the kind that drove Qi Lin into burnout, was something she would normally calculate the risks of and avoid, not charge into headfirst like she was doing now.

Unless she had no choice but to do it.

Dong Zheng couldn’t figure out why Qi Lin had to take on “The Fourth Dagger”. To her, who didn’t know the original storyline, it was simply a film with a high chance of winning an award — not a guaranteed one. There were other films being made at the same time with even better odds. Qi Lin had plenty of options.

But Dong Zheng could still identify at least one reason why Qi Lin was pushing herself this hard.

The other female lead of “The Fourth Dagger” was none other than Dong Zheng herself.

It was common knowledge, not just among outsiders, but also between the two of them, that Dong Zheng and Qi Lin were each other’s strongest rivals. Now that they were in the same crew, the contrast was even starker.

No matter which of them ultimately won the Best Actress Award at this year’s Golden Film Awards, the other would inevitably face endless belittling, ridicule, and even personal attacks.

There has never been a shortage of people who criticize without thinking, and nowadays, with keyboard warriors, it’s easier than ever for them to shout.

Dong Zheng could feel the pressure coming from Qi Lin, but she hadn’t expected the pressure she herself exerted on Qi Lin to be this overwhelming.

So overwhelming that Qi Lin had begun pushing herself past her limits.

Upon realizing this, Dong Zheng couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. Since the two of them were practically inseparable both on and off-screen these days, she took advantage of a break to seek Qi Lin out, ready to talk it through properly.

Communication was important — especially for lovers. It could prevent so many unnecessary conflicts.

This was something Qi Lin had been teaching her all this time, not to keep everything bottled up, but to speak out whenever something was on her mind.

So Dong Zheng was simply doing as she was taught.

The filming schedule for “The Fourth Dagger” was even longer than that of “The Bl00d-Stained Hairpin“, the drama they had collaborated on years ago. Spring had slipped away before they could even catch its tail, the weather was growing hotter, and watermelons were starting to hit the market.

When Dong Zheng stepped into the nanny van they shared, Qi Lin was just instructing her assistant, Xiao Sun, to buy half a watermelon.

Dong Zheng knew perfectly well that her girlfriend loved watermelon.

Tilting her body slightly, she gave way to Xiao Sun, who was about to head out.

But as soon as she reached Qi Lin, she was pulled straight into her arms.

The kiss that followed was lingering and tender — not fierce, but more like a gentle play of lips and tongue.

After nearly half a year together, even if Dong Zheng had been shy and inexperienced at first, Qi Lin, the seasoned one, had already taught her how to grow more at ease.

Dong Zheng’s responses were as mild and reserved as she was, yet she matched Qi Lin’s advances seamlessly, obedient and sincere.

When the kiss finally ended, Dong Zheng didn’t forget why she had come.

Still, sitting in this posture made everything she said carry a playful undertone, hardly fitting for the serious conversation she intended. She loosened her arms from around Qi Lin’s neck, ready to rise from her lap, but Qi Lin held her too tightly, clearly unwilling to let go.

With no other choice, Dong Zheng straightened up in her embrace instead.

“Xiaoxiao,” she said.

Though her tone was as even as ever, Qi Lin instantly caught the gravity, the earnestness, and even the hint of worry hidden in those two short syllables.

Qi Lin sat upright at once, putting on the look of someone ready to respectfully listen to her wife’s every word.

In truth, she had a good guess as to what Dong Zheng wanted to say. And sure enough, Dong Zheng’s next words confirmed it, this was all about her unusually intense behavior during the filming of “The Fourth Dagger”.

Qi Lin leaned down to press a kiss to Dong Zheng’s eyes — eyes that had been fixed on her while she spoke, steady and a little stubborn, so endearingly earnest it made Qi Lin’s heart stir.

Dong Zheng let her girlfriend fool around for a moment, but she still reached behind Qi Lin’s head to gently squeeze the back of her neck, urging her to give a serious answer.

“Alright, alright, it’s fine,” Qi Lin said with a smile in her voice as she held Dong Zheng close. “Darling, don’t worry. It’s true I’ve been pushing harder than usual this time, but I haven’t pushed myself past my limits.”

Qi Lin looked into Dong Zheng’s eyes, eyes that she had just kissed moments ago, and her tone grew much more serious,

“Of course, I really want the Best Actress Award at the Golden Film Awards. But compared to that, being able to act in the same drama as co-leads with Ah Zheng, this kind of exhilarating experience captivates me even more. It makes me instinctively want to bring out all my best skills — otherwise I’d be completely crushed by Senior Ah Zheng, who has so many more years of acting experience than I do!”

Qi Lin blinked her big, sincere eyes at Dong Zheng.

Dong Zheng: “…”

Even though a part of her subconscious still felt doubtful, when she was being looked at with such admiration and reverence by her own girlfriend’s beautiful big eyes, Dong Zheng couldn’t help but cave in and believe her.

Especially those words—“Senior Ah Zheng.” Weren’t they just used last night in bed? Why was she still calling her that now…

A faint blush uncontrollably crept across Dong Zheng’s face.

“But Ah Zheng, I still want to say this.” Qi Lin leaned closer, rubbing her nose against Dong Zheng’s. “Don’t go easy on me just because you feel sorry for me, okay? Even if my Ah Zheng only used ten percent of her strength, she’d still be absolutely amazing — but what I love most is seeing you when you’re giving your all. That’s the most captivating thing of all!”

Dong Zheng’s face was flushed: “…Mm.”

At this moment, Xiao Sun returned with the watermelon. Seeing the two big stars so lovey-dovey, looking like they might start doing something not-so-child-friendly at any second, she wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Compared to the very first time she saw Qi Lin and Dong Zheng kissing — when she was so shocked she froze on the spot and couldn’t move, until Dong Zheng’s assistant Xiao Zheng dragged her away and she finally snapped out of it — she had already made a lot of progress.

Xiao Zheng’s rule of thumb was very effective, silence is golden, minimize your presence.

As long as the two stars are happy, that’s what matters.

Calmly placing the watermelon on the little tea table in front of them, Xiao Sun just said, “Sister An, I bought the watermelon,” then immediately retreated from the blinding waves of dog food (public displays of affection), shut the door of the nanny van, and went off to find Xiao Zheng, who had wisely slipped out of the van earlier, to borrow some mosquito repellent.

Summer was almost here, and the mosquitoes really were everywhere!

Inside the van, however, things didn’t go the way Xiao Sun had imagined. Instead of driving off, Qi Lin gently set Dong Zheng down, then stood up and went to the little kitchenette in the van. She fetched a spoon, scooped out the sweetest center bite of the chilled half-watermelon, and fed it to Dong Zheng.

“How is it?” Qi Lin smiled brightly. “Sweet?”

Dong Zheng nodded.

…Of course it’s sweet. You’re the one feeding it to me.

“Ah, but credit where it’s due, Xiao Sun is really good at picking watermelons.” Qi Lin dug out another spoonful for herself. “These past few years, every time I wanted watermelon and had her pick one, not once has it failed to be sweet!”

Dong Zheng: “…”

Why does that sound like your assistant was basically hired just to pick watermelons for you?

Off in the distance, Xiao Sun was spraying the mosquito repellent Xiao Zheng had given her onto her arms and legs, when she suddenly sneezed.

Eh? Did the repellent choke her?

The filming of “The Fourth Dagger” had wrapped up completely before the full summer heat set in, and its official release was timed perfectly for the summer holiday season. Just like in the original novel, the box office shot up like a rocket, screenings kept increasing, attendance rates reached record-breaking highs, and rave reviews poured in from every direction. The rare “dual female lead” format also brought the film a ton of buzz.

It was almost universally agreed that this movie would soon become the biggest winner at the upcoming Golden Film Festival.

People were praising the plot, praising the production, praising the director, praising the acting, praising the cast’s looks — basically, when it came to reviews of “The Fourth Dagger”, there was nothing that wasn’t praised.

Of course, there were always a few groups of viewers whose focus was… let’s just say, rather unconventional.

EvenTheNameIWantedWasTakenSoMad: 

– Aaaa it’s my Xiao!!! It’s my Zheng!!! They’re on screen together!!! They’re double female leads aaaah!!!

AnDongPromotion,Interested?: 

– Been waiting eight hundred years, and finally the two goddesses can work together again! Why are my eyes always full of tears? Because my love for AnDong¹ runs so deep!

kaka: 

– Two goddesses² on the same stage, it’s just amazing!

YuFamilyIsPoor: 

– Thinking back to the last time Goddess An and Queen Dong collaborated in “The Bl00d-Stained Hairpin“, same excellent script, same outstanding production, same male lead who was supposedly dating Queen Dong but felt nonexistent and then died, same Goddess An character who sacrificed so much for Queen Dong and then died too, same cruel plot where no matter how you shipped the three leads there wasn’t even one that could barely count as HE³, same tragic ending where only the first female lead survives, same blinding spark|ling|chemistry from the two actresses, same overflowing dogfood⁴, same me eating that dog food while crying.

LoveXiaoxiaoLoveZhengZheng: 

– Oh my god hahahaha are you trying to make me laugh to death? Hahahaha! But seriously, the CP⁵ vibe between Xiaoxiao and ZhengZheng just bursts off the screen no matter the time or setting. Even with such a tragic plot, I spent the whole movie laughing like an idiot dog, while my bestie who watched with me cried so hard she almost broke up with me hahahaha.

WholeheartedlyZheng: 

– Let me add something — same feeling that my Zheng and Goddess An picked up the wrong scripts but ended up slapping faces 23333⁶. Why do these two always play characters that feel more like each other’s? Some kind of special kink?

IsEatingIceThickOrNot?: 

– Back when the cast was announced, the moment I saw the names of the two female leads, I already knew I should light a candle for the poor guy playing the male lead. Now watching the actual film — sure enough, he’s buried under the AnDong dog food with zero presence in the romance. But don’t be afraid, don’t be sad, look forward! You’ve got Brother Li Kai to keep you company!

KaiKaiWhenWillYou PostonWeibo!: 

– What did my Kai do wrong to get dragged out even at a time like this? My Kai is aggrieved!

roseyoujump: 

– Ah, this male lead x Brother Li Kai — double lightbulb⁷ CP, I’ll take it!

LightBoat: 

– Wtf can you guys chill? What kind of ridiculous CP is this hahahaha. The male lead’s acting and looks are actually solid, feel a little sorry for him!

GardeniasGrowInTheSouthernLand: 

– I just want to rave about my Xiao’s acting and beauty — absolutely god-tier. And the AnDongsugar⁸ is so sweet!

LoveZhengForLife: 

– I just want to rave about my Zheng’s acting and beauty — absolutely god-tier. And the AnDong sugar is so sweet!

LittleLazyForever: 

– I just want to rave about how the plot is perfect. And the AnDong sugar is so sweet!

NoWayOut: 

– I just want to rave about how the production is a feast for both the eyes and ears. And the AnDong sugar is so sweet!

Won’tChangeMyNameUntilILose10Jin!: 

– I just want to rave about how sharp the director’s style is — so satisfying to watch! And the AnDong sugar is so sweet!

AnDongForeverStan: 

– Enough raving! I’m going to edit an AnDong “past lives and this life” video from “The Bl00d-Stained Hairpin“ and “The Fourth Dagger”!

SuSuJustLittleSusu: 

– Goddess, I’m waiting for you! Knocking on my bowl!

ZhimianFanfictionHomepage: 

– Goddess, I’m waiting for you! Knocking on my bowl!

Snooker: 

– Goddess, I’m waiting for you! Knocking on my bowl!

LittlePuddingoftheZhengFamily:

– Eh, wasn’t the one before me an An fan? Whatever, doesn’t matter, welcome to the pit! Now line up — Goddess, I’m waiting for you! Knocking on my bowl!

The Golden Film Festival finally opened under great anticipation.

Just like last time, Qi Lin and Dong Zheng entered together with their film’s cast and sat next to each other, waiting for the results to be announced on stage.

Only, the male lead forced to eat dog food beside them was no longer Li Kai.

Li Kai was sitting with the neighboring film crew. He glanced at the actor playing the male lead Xuan Wu in “The Fourth Dagger”, and for some reason felt a gloating sense of “I’m not alone.”

Dong Zheng’s posture was still composed and elegant. She watched the two hosts warming up the atmosphere on stage, then suddenly grew sentimental. She whispered softly to Qi Lin,
“Four years ago I said I wanted to be your award presenter… looks like I can’t make it happen this time.”

Qi Lin leaned in and replied,
“Don’t worry about that. In the future, maybe I’ll still get the chance to be Ah Zheng’s award presenter instead!”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Dong Zheng’s lips as she nodded. “Mm.”

The male lead beside them felt something was off.

That feeling had cropped up often back when they were filming too.

As if… he was just a little too dazzling?

Like a lightbulb, shining where it shouldn’t…

Li Kai, sitting next door, almost burst out laughing.

But in the end, everyone who came here tonight had clearer goals in mind, and these little side episodes didn’t draw much attention from the people involved.

One by one, the awards were handed out, the hosts deliberately keeping the suspense alive. Li Kai received the Best Supporting Actor Award — already a tremendous honor for someone so young.

Qi Lin clapped enthusiastically at the announcement.

It was a very lovable supporting role, and he was an excellent actor.

“The Fourth Dagger” won both Best Screenplay and Best Director at the Golden Film Awards — a huge harvest. The director’s smile was so wide it left only narrow slits for his eyes.

Next up was the announcement for Best Actress.

Qi Lin’s palms were slightly damp with sweat.

She was certain the Best Actress title this year would go either to her or to Dong Zheng.

If she won, then all of her dual-line missions in this world would be complete. She would leave this world, Ji Huaixu’s spiritual fragment inside Dong Zheng would return to Ji Huaixu’s body in the real world, and Qi Lin would have to move on to the next world to search for the remaining fragments.

But if Dong Zheng won Best Actress, Qi Lin would still have four more years — time to work toward the next Golden Film Awards and its Best Actress title.

Qi Lin felt torn.

On one hand, she wanted to finish her task quickly, to restore Ji Huaixu as soon as possible, so she hoped she herself would win.

On the other hand, the uncertainty weighed on her — what if the next world had no fragment of Ji Huaixu? And even if it did, how long would it take to find it? Because of that, she wanted to stay with Dong Zheng longer, without parting. So she also hoped Dong Zheng would win Best Actress.

Qi Lin forced herself to relax. If she kept up this tension, Ah Zheng would notice and start worrying.

Looking at it another way — no matter which of them won, wasn’t it something worth celebrating?

Do your best, leave the rest to fate.

Though she had tried hard to hide it, Dong Zheng still noticed Qi Lin’s nervousness.

Without a word, she reached over and clasped Qi Lin’s hand.

The soft warmth of her touch spread through Qi Lin’s fingers, startling her.

And then, as if some kind of magic had been cast, all of Qi Lin’s tension melted away.

Dong Zheng whispered, “It’s okay.”

Qi Lin whispered back, “Mm.”

Both Qi Lin and Dong Zheng were in the running for Best Actress. At last, after stretching the suspense to its limit, the host announced the winner.

“Dong Zheng!”

“Let’s congratulate Film Queen Dong! After eight years, she has once again taken home the Golden Film Award for Best Actress!”

The entire venue erupted in applause as every gaze and every camera turned toward Dong Zheng and An Xiaoxiao.

Dong Zheng was still a little dazed when Qi Lin, overjoyed, shouted, “Ah Zheng, you’re amazing!” and leapt up to give her a bear hug.

This year’s Best Actress title belonged to Ah Zheng — wonderful! That meant they still had four years left together.

Upon hearing the results, Qi Lin didn’t feel the regret she had expected about leaving her ‘career storyline’ unfinished. Instead, her heart was filled only with pride and happiness.

Qi Lin nudged Dong Zheng lightly. “Hurry, go up and accept your award, Queen!”

That old nickname, “Film Queen,” had been around between them for quite some time. When Dong Zheng heard it again, she clearly froze for a moment, then smiled at Qi Lin before preparing to head toward the stage.

“Wait, wait a moment!” the host on stage suddenly interjected in a rush. “Film Queen Dong, don’t be in such a hurry! This time, the Best Actress Award isn’t going to just one person — there are two! It’s a double Best Actress!”

The whole hall was in an uproar.

No way — a double winner?!

In the history of the Golden Film Festival, there had never been such a tie before. Were they about to witness history being made?!

Qi Lin and Dong Zheng were both stunned.

Could it be…

“The other winner of Best Actress at the 52nd Golden Film Awards is—”

“An Xiaoxiao!”

“Let’s congratulate Film Queen An! She has broken the record previously set by Film Queen Dong, becoming the youngest Best Actress in Golden Film history!”