The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 15

The production team somehow procured a wheelchair for Zuo Xingning.

As the filming neared its end, Chu Shiyin emerged as the most effortless “champion” in the show’s history. Zuo Xingning, securing second place, chose a basket of purple irises from the remaining glass crafts.

With this segment completed, the official announcement marked the end of filming. After the livestream was shut down, Zuo Xingning left first, escorted back to the hotel by Yu Siya.

Chu Shiyin didn’t return; the guests still needed to film some additional shots that afternoon. As for Zuo Xingning’s scenes, they would have to wait until her foot injury healed.

Having barely eaten anything that morning to look good on camera, Zuo Xingning was ravenously hungry. As soon as she settled into her hotel room, she ordered a mountain of takeout. Unable to open the door herself, she used Yu Siya’s room number for delivery. Moments later, Yu Siya arrived with several bags.

She unlocked the door with her spare room key, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Without a word, she opened the takeout containers and pushed them toward Zuo Xingning.

When Yu Siya was deep in thought, her eyes would unconsciously fixate on moving objects, her brow furrowing more tightly the deeper her concentration. After enduring this intense gaze for five or six minutes, Zuo Xingning set down her chopsticks and sincerely invited, “Sister Siya, want to join me? I ordered way too much.”

“No, don’t buy so much next time. Celebrities need to maintain their figures,” Yu Siya replied without thinking.

“Alright,” Zuo Xingning said, knowing it was just a polite gesture. When refused, she picked up her chopsticks and began to eat heartily. But after only a few bites, those two stern gazes were back on her like shadows.

She set down her chopsticks, wiped her mouth, and asked again, “Sister Siya, if there’s something you want to say, please just say it.”

This is really giving me indigestion.

Yu Siya stared into her eyes, silent for so long that Zuo Xingning began to think she’d misunderstood. Just as she picked up her chopsticks for the third time, Yu Siya finally spoke.

“I understand that young people’s minds tend to wander, but Chu Shiyin is different. Don’t provoke her without being fully prepared.”

So what exactly does that mean?

After Yu Siya left, Zuo Xingning sat with an ice pack on her ankle, pondering her words. “Young people’s minds tend to wander”—on the surface, it sounded harmless. But when combined with the second half of the sentence, it felt like she was being called “fickle.”

As for the latter part… had she provoked Chu Shiyin?

If I’m being honest with myself, I definitely provoked her—and provoked her badly.

There could be nothing more offensive than walking into the wrong room and climbing into the wrong bed on the very first night of meeting someone. But that was only from her perspective. Chu Shiyin, on the other hand, seemed not to have taken it to heart at all.

It was as if she’d been bitten by a few mosquitoes—she’d bandage the bites and move on, forgetting about it entirely after a while.

Even last night… Would Chu Shiyin ever accept someone else’s request to “sleep with her”? Absolutely not.

Upon closer reflection, Chu Shiyin’s behavior toward her couldn’t be simply categorized as “patience.” This was outright indulgence.

Such unguarded indulgence… Was it a good thing?

Zuo Xingning slumped on the sofa, pondering the question without finding an answer. After a few yawns, she slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the southern windowsill was completely devoid of sunlight.

The sun was setting. Someone had drawn the curtains and draped a dark velvet blanket over her. Still groggy from her long nap, Zuo Xingning drifted in and out of consciousness for a while before finally waking up completely.

Several unread messages awaited her on her phone, from both Zuo Minglan and Chu Shiyin. The messages were similar, both expressing concern about her foot injury. Zuo Minglan also asked if the blonde-haired girl from the show was her friend, saying she looked familiar.

Zuo Xingning didn’t know how to describe her relationship with Jiang Shuqing, so she vaguely replied that they might look familiar because she had seen her in the university’s military training group photo.

As she finished typing, the door clicked open, and a sliver of hallway light spilled into the room. Chu Shiyin walked in, holding a spare room key Yu Siya had given her in her right hand and a plastic bag in her left, which she placed on the table beside the sofa.

“Does your ankle still hurt?” Chu Shiyin asked, her voice slightly hoarse, as if she had also been napping.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. When did you get back, Jiejie?” Zuo Xingning sat up.

“A while ago. I came by earlier, but you were still asleep,” Chu Shiyin replied, sitting down and lifting a corner of the blanket. “Is your ankle swollen?”

“I don’t know…” Zuo Xingning suddenly tensed, her body reacting faster than her mind to what was happening. “Don’t touch it! It’s dirty!”

“Don’t move,” Chu Shiyin said, easily restraining her resistance. Her right hand was already tracing the outline of Zuo Xingning’s ankle bone.

Summer ended early in Beicheng, with short days and long nights. The room was dimly lit, making it impossible to compare the thickness of her ankles visually. Instead, Chu Shiyin used her fingertips to trace their contours.

Zuo Xingning’s face flushed crimson instantly. Having adjusted to the darkness earlier than Chu Shiyin, she could clearly see where every tantalizing touch originated, from her ankle to the arch of her foot.

Chu Shiyin, who exercised regularly, maintained hands that were far from rough. Her ten fingers were slender and elegant; even with her eyes closed, Zuo Xingning could trace the contours of their bones in her mind. Yet only today did she realize that these hands, which she had admired countless times, bore a thin layer of calluses on the fingertips. When those calluses brushed against her delicate skin, it didn’t hurt—it only made her tremble.

“It doesn’t seem swollen. When was the last time you iced it? Has it been at least two hours?” Chu Shiyin finished her meticulous examination, seemingly without a trace of ulterior motive.

“Mm-hmm,” Zuo Xingning replied, unsure whether she felt relieved or slightly disappointed. “Yes, it has. I slept for a long time.”

“Perfect. Let’s ice it again.” Chu Shiyin retrieved the ice pack from the plastic bag and handed it to her.

“Okay, thank you, Jiejie.”

Zuo Xingning took the ice pack, wrapped it in a towel, and pressed it against her ankle. The back of her ears flushed red as she asked, trying to make conversation, “How are we going to take the prizes home today? They’re probably fragile.”

“We’ve left our addresses. Director Meng will arrange for the prizes to be delivered in a few days, so don’t worry,” Chu Shiyin said, washing her hands and switching on the lights. “Come downstairs with me later. We’re doing a short livestream.”

Though called a livestream, it was more like a post-show interview with the guests. After the midday broadcast ended, the official Weibo account launched a poll. The guest with the most votes would host a special evening livestream to interact with viewers and generate buzz for the show.

Zuo Xingning’s standout performance during the day earned her the second-highest number of votes, just behind Chu Shiyin.

The livestream was scheduled for 8 PM. Meng Zhi booked a suite and personally oversaw the setup, transforming it into the broadcast venue.

After sleeping in her daytime outfit, Zuo Xingning changed into a simple yet elegant casual outfit. Her sleep-tangled braids proved difficult to restore; unraveling them left her hair even more curled and unruly. The stylist eventually settled on a fishtail braid.

At 7:50 PM, Zuo Xingning sat in her chair, listening to Meng Zhi’s final instructions.

“…Questions like ‘Who is the Evil Dragon’s companion?’ should be avoided. Don’t worry about guessing right or wrong—this information is confidential. If you accidentally read a question you can’t answer, just give a hand signal, and our team will steer the conversation elsewhere.”

“Understood?”

This explanation was primarily for Zuo Xingning, the rookie. She nodded to show she understood.

The livestream started right on time, during prime viewing hours. The number of viewers in the livestream room skyrocketed, and the bullet comments flooded the screen, overwhelming Zuo Xingning. Suddenly, amidst the uniform stream of messages, an unexpected name appeared. Before she could read it clearly, it was buried under a fresh wave of comments.

A few seconds later, as if anticipating being pushed aside, the same user posted the message again. This time, Zuo Xingning caught it:

Ahhh! Jiang Nian! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you on TV! Why aren’t you acting anymore?!

Jiang Nian. Zuo Xingning hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

It was the first role she ever played: a naive and innocent Junior Sister from a martial arts sect, who harbored a secret crush on her Eldest Senior Sister, the female lead. Unbeknownst to her, a bl00d feud between their mothers separated them.

Upon learning the truth, Jiang Nian was consumed by anguish. Through a series of tragic misunderstandings, she found herself in the enemy’s camp, becoming a blade aimed at her own sect. Yet, at the critical moment, she turned against her new allies, securing a sliver of hope for the protagonist group.

This was a character who straddled the line between good and evil—at least, that’s how she was portrayed during the drama’s filming.

Thanks to the inherent popularity of the actress playing the female lead, the drama enjoyed a brief surge in popularity early on. As the actress portraying Jiang Nian, the “utterly villainous” character, Zuo Xingning’s Weibo account was besieged by irrational viewers.

Zuo Xingning had reassured herself that the plot would eventually turn around, that the foreshadowing had been carefully laid out, and that everything would be resolved in the end. However, all she witnessed on television was massive cuts to her scenes, and the fate of her minor character, Jiang Nian, was twisted beyond recognition through endless editing.

The Jiang Nian who had once straddled the line between good and evil was reduced to a naive, ungrateful, and cowardly figure, clinging to life at any cost.

On the day she went offline, Zuo Xingning locked herself in her room, cleared her Weibo account, and stared blankly into space all night. Before dawn the next day, she carried a cardboard box to the neighborhood trash bin and tossed it in.

I was so young and impulsive back then, Zuo Xingning thought, now twenty-two and feeling much more mature, as she ruthlessly judged her self from a year and a half ago.

It was still my own hard work. How could I just throw it away like that? So childish.

Shaking her head, Zuo Xingning carefully switched on the bedside lamp, dimming it to its lowest setting.

She wanted to talk to someone. Chu Shiyin was sleeping soundly beside her, and Zuo Xingning didn’t want to wake her. She pulled her phone from under her pillow, made a quick call, and hung up immediately after the other party answered, switching to WeChat.

Mommy, do you remember that TV drama I filmed in college?

Disturbed from a pleasant dream, Zuo Minglan initially wanted to scold her daughter. But when she saw the message, she froze, replying cautiously with two words:

I remember.

How could she forget? Before filming, Xingning had been a cheerful, carefree child. But after the shoot wrapped, she was a changed person. She took a long leave of absence from school and came home. During the day, she seemed fine, but at night she was plagued by nightmares. Unable to bear her daughter’s distress, Zuo Minglan slept beside her for over a month until the night terrors finally subsided.

At first, Zuo Minglan assumed Zuo Xingning was simply frightened by her suddenly grown fangs, blaming herself for not explaining things properly beforehand. It wasn’t until the drama Zuo Xingning starred in aired that Zuo Minglan realized something was wrong.

Why bring this up?

Zuo Xingning typed much faster, sending another message before Zuo Minglan could even finish reading the first.

Xingning: My character was named Jiang Nian, right? Today, someone called me by that name, and when I looked it up, I realized that even though the editing was terrible, some people really liked her.

Xingning: Some fans even figured out the later plot twists based on the few hints we dropped. And there’s this amazing content creator who edited together a storyline that’s almost exactly what happened! The video has tons of views!

Zuo Minglan turned on the light, put on her glasses, and smiled, her lips pressed together. She knew Zuo Xingning wasn’t finished yet, so she waited quietly.

Xingning: I feel… both happy and sad at the same time, Mom. Was I really that fragile before? I missed out on them for so long.

No, you weren’t.

Zuo Minglan answered silently in her heart: Everyone has moments when they can’t bear it anymore and want to escape. That’s not weakness; it’s healing.

It’s never too late to meet.

Star: If only I hadn’t thrown away those old scripts and things. If I’d known sooner, they wouldn’t have had to work so hard piecing together Jiang Nian’s story.

They weren’t thrown away.

That year, the hinges on their front door had rusted, making a loud creaking sound whenever it opened or closed.

One night, Zuo Minglan, unusually sleepless, tossed and turned in bed like a pancake on a griddle. Suddenly, a clatter outside startled her. Thinking a burglar had broken in, she rushed into Zuo Xingning’s room. The bed was empty, but her slippers lay scattered by the entrance.

It was still hours before dawn. Fearing something had happened to Xingning, Zuo Minglan opened the door and went outside. From the bottom of the stairs, she saw Xingning in her pajamas, tossing something into the trash can. Her hunched figure looked like she’d lost her soul.

After watching Xingning return safely, Zuo Minglan walked over to the trash can and retrieved the box.

The things are still here. Mom put them away for you.