The Green Tea Actress Has Too Much After-Show Drama - Chapter 30

Upon regaining consciousness, Ran Long recalled Sister Wang’s words from the end of the banquet. After changing into her pajamas, she immediately wanted to confront Qiu An.

Perhaps sensing Ran Long’s intentions, Qiu An had slipped into the bathroom while Ran Long was changing and gathering her thoughts.

She can’t hide in there forever, Ran Long thought, settling onto the sofa with her phone to wait.

To her surprise, Qiu An stayed in the shower for a full hour.

The longer Ran Long waited, the more uneasy she felt. Qiu An had drunk heavily, even more than Ran Long herself, and seemed even more intoxicated. Could something have happened to her in the bathroom?

With this thought, Ran Long rushed to the bathroom door and pounded on it.

“Qiu An? Qiu An! Why are you taking so long?”

The door swung open, revealing Qiu An in a loosely draped bathrobe, the sash barely tied at her waist. Her hair, still wet from the shower, hung damply over her shoulders. Who is she trying to seduce at this hour? Ran Long wondered.

“I was doing my skincare routine,” Qiu An said.

“Skincare takes an hour? You’re lying! Are you feeling guilty? Or just constipated?”

As Ran Long spoke, she reached for Qiu An’s waist. Qiu An startled and recoiled, only to see Ran Long grab the sash and yank it apart with a sharp tug, nearly tearing off the artificial hourglass figure beneath.

The gaping neckline of the robe was now tightly secured, making it much more presentable.

“Are you worried about me?” Qiu An asked.

“I…” Ran Long hesitated, unwilling to admit it. Qiu An had too many pleasure points; Ran Long didn’t want to indulge her. “I just needed to use the restroom.”

“Oh, there’s a bathroom in my bedroom. It’s just a bit small.”

Ran Long: ???

So Qiu An had claimed the master bedroom without consulting her on their first day, and it had its own bathroom?!

And if there was a bathroom, there must also be a shower. Why had Qiu An been hogging the shared bathroom every day?

Just because it was “a bit small”? Did she think she’d transformed from a sparrow into a phoenix, too grand for a cramped shower?

Huh?

Why was Ran Long only finding out about this after filming in Crossing City had wrapped up?

After a brainstorming session, Ran Long was about to scold Qiu An when the curse words caught in her throat and she instead asked, “Where’s the bathroom in your bedroom? I didn’t see it last time I was in there.”

“It’s behind the coat rack, a hidden door. It’s actually quite obvious.”

A pink piglet in Ran Long’s mind snorted sarcastically: Quite~ obvious~

Is she mocking my eyesight? Hmph, I refuse to believe the hotel deliberately placed that coat rack there to block the way.

Ran Long crouched into a sprinter’s stance, ready to bolt, when Qiu An grabbed her wrist. “Xiao Ran, what are you doing? This room is perfectly usable.”

“I want to!” Ran Long wrenched free of Qiu An’s grip. “To see it for myself!”

With that, she dashed into Qiu An’s bedroom, shoved aside the coat rack, and indeed found a hidden door camouflaged against the wallpaper.

Pushing it open, Ran Long eagerly scanned the room. To her disappointment, the bathroom was completely empty, and her eyes clouded with disappointment.

Qiu An followed her into the bedroom and, noticing her crestfallen expression, asked, “What are you looking for?”

“Qiu An, I have a question for you. Answer honestly.”

Qiu An thought Ran Long was going to ask about her investment. Her throat tightened, and she nervously twisted the corner of her shirt.

Having mentally prepared herself, she agreed, “Okay. Ask away.”

Even if Ran Long asked, “Do you like me?” she would have answered, “Yes, I like you.”

Unfortunately, Ran Long hadn’t yet realized this:

“Where do you hang your underwear to dry?”

“Huh?”

Seeing Qiu An’s blank stare, Ran Long repeated the question earnestly. She was genuinely curious.

Qiu An finally answered truthfully, “I haven’t hung today’s yet. Sometimes I wear… disposable ones.”

As she spoke, Qiu An’s face flushed crimson. It was strange—Ran Long’s question was perfectly ordinary, but Qiu An’s detailed answer made it sound suggestive.

“So… where do you usually hang them?”

“On the balcony.”

Oh!

No wonder. Ran Long, accustomed to living like a rat crawling through the sewers, rarely ventured onto the balcony. The clothesline was strung above the doorframe, and small items like underwear were completely hidden from view when looking out from the room.

So, why was she so fixated on this question?

Qiu An was equally curious and kept staring at her.

“Uh, Sister Wang said you invested in The Sound of Falling Leaves,” Ran Long blurted out awkwardly, cutting straight to the chase and catching Qiu An off guard.

“Wait here for a bit. I’m going to dry my hair.”

“Okay, hurry back.”

Qiu An went into the small bathroom to dry her hair, while Ran Long naturally climbed onto Qiu An’s bed to wait.

Qiu An’s hair was long and thick, so drying it took quite a while. By the time Qiu An returned to the room, still holding the hairdryer, Ran Long was nearly asleep from boredom, scrolling through her phone.

“Xiao Ran, you should dry your hair too.”

“I’ll dry it after you tell me.”

“I’ll tell you after you dry it.”

In this silent battle of wills, Ran Long finally relented. She reached for the hairdryer in Qiu An’s hand, but Qiu An dodged her, saying, “I’ll dry it for you.”

She didn’t even phrase it as a question! Ran Long’s temper flared up again.

“What’s with the sudden kindness? There’s always an ulterior motive!”

“I’m not being kind.”

“Then you’re definitely up to no good!”

Seizing the opportunity while Qiu An was lost in her melancholy, Ran Long snatched the hairdryer, plugged it in, and began drying her own hair.

She didn’t actually enjoy constantly bickering with people, but whenever she was around Qiu An, a strange competitive streak always surfaced.

For instance, if she couldn’t hide her underwear properly but Qiu An could, she’d feel a pang of frustration.

So, after Qiu An had dried her hair for so long, Ran Long insisted on drying hers even longer, just to show off how much thicker her hair was.

The result? Her hair was bone-dry long before she stopped, but she stubbornly kept the dryer on, leaving her hair frizzy and damp with sweat.

“Fine,” Ran Long said, switching off the hairdryer. “Start your excuses.”

Qiu An put down the hairdryer, climbed onto the bed, and sat beside Ran Long.

She seemed to have abandoned all pretense of modesty, sitting so close that she nearly pressed against Ran Long’s thigh.

“What do you want to ask me?”

“Did you invest in The Sound of Falling Leaves?”

“The studio invested.”

“What’s the difference? Huh? Isn’t your studio called Qiu An Studios?”

“Yes, but listen—investments need returns. The specific investment plan and proportions were handled by our consultants. They wouldn’t allow the studio to make a losing deal. The Sound of Falling Leaves is Yuan Chengyin and Yao Ling’s first collaboration since winning awards and gaining fame. With both guaranteed buzz and critical acclaim, it’s bound to be profitable.”

“So, you insisted on giving me the role of Shen Zixin?”

“I recommended you to Director Yuan and the producer, but you ultimately earned it yourself.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Sigh… But why did you insist on me playing the role? My reputation is terrible, we have a history, and even your most loyal fans might not accept it. Your studio has plenty of actors—wouldn’t promoting one of your own be the most profitable choice?”

“None of them were as suitable as you. Shen Zixin chose you.”

“…Stop with the empty words. Qiu An, do you think doing this will make up for everything? No matter how nicely you phrase it, it still feels like you’re looking down on me, like you’re doing me a favor, you know?”

“Xiao Ran…”

Qiu An opened her mouth, as if unsure how to explain. After a long pause, she reached out and placed her hand over Ran Long’s.

Qiu An’s hand wasn’t particularly warm, but it wasn’t as cold as usual either.

Probably because she had just finished showering, her bl00d still warm. She had applied hand cream, making her palm smooth and, for once, somewhat soft.

Ran Long didn’t pull away, letting Qiu An hold her hand.

“Since…” Ran Long began, her voice catching in her throat. “Since you’re being so kind to me now…”

No matter how Ran Long tried to rationalize Qiu An’s actions, she couldn’t deny the truth: Qiu An was genuinely kind to her.

It was evident in Qiu An’s unwavering support, defying public opinion to choose her, and in her past tenderness, thoughtfulness, and boundless tolerance.

Whatever Qiu An’s motives might be, she had always been good to Ran Long. She was simply a good person.

“Then why did you treat me so badly back then?” Ran Long asked, her voice trembling. “Do you know? After Ran Cheng’s scandals were exposed, he disappeared. All his debts were dumped on Mom… Legally, she might not have been responsible for all of it, but she insisted on paying everything off, wanting to live a clean, carefree life. Mom… she’d never known a day of poverty in her life. She’d always spent freely on whatever she wanted—food, clothes, travel—but now, when she should be enjoying her retirement, she couldn’t even bring herself to drink a can of milk, thinking of selling it secondhand to pay off the debts…”

“I know it’s not your fault. Ultimately, it’s all Ran Cheng’s fault, and I don’t want to blame you. But seeing you always reminds me of these painful memories… I’m only good at acting. After being blacklisted, I’d even take roles in brainless web dramas—the money from live streaming is about the same anyway. Face, reputation—none of that matters. I just want money, so my mom can live a good life… I’ve never apologized to you for hitting you, never given the public an explanation… because I still wanted to hold onto a shred of pride when I’m around you… Otherwise… what am I even worth?”

Ran Long poured out her heart in one breath, finally releasing years of pent-up resentment.

Her mind was a mess, likely due to lingering alcohol. She grabbed onto whatever came to mind, speaking illogically, focused only on venting her emotions.

Her nose was red, her voice wavered, and tears welled in her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back.

Qiu An’s heart ached as she pulled Ran Long into her arms, holding her tightly.

Ran Long desperately needed a hug at that moment, and Qiu An provided it without her having to swallow her pride and ask. This preserved what little “dignity” she had left.

Ran Long sniffled against Qiu An’s chest, the grief draining her energy. After being held for a long time, Qiu An noticed Ran Long’s breathing growing softer and more even.

Qiu An patted her shoulder gently and asked softly, “If you needed money, why didn’t you take Yuan Chengyin’s film offer earlier? I understand you didn’t want to lower yourself to me, but Yuan Chengyin approached you because he recognized your talent. There was never any ‘charity’ involved, and you know that.”

“Yuan Chengyin… that ivory tower idealist. She doesn’t know… sh1t.”

Ran Long was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open, but her subconscious still cursed Yuan Chengyin.

Qiu An smiled bitterly, pulling out a tissue to wipe away the tears welling in Ran Long’s eyes and the clear snot trickling down her cheek.

“I took the role…” Ran Long’s lips moved unconsciously. “And then no one would invest in her…”

“If you’re in it, I’ll invest. This isn’t charity—it’s because I believe in you, because you deserve it.”

Ran Long seemed not to hear Qiu An’s words, continuing as if speaking to herself: “Don’t fall for…”

But halfway through the sentence, Ran Long drifted into sleep, and Qiu An never heard the rest of her words.

In her dream, Ran Long returned to the days when the three of them had vacationed by the sea.

Seeing Yuan Chengyin intently building a sandcastle, Ran Long pulled Qiu An to a spot out of Yuan Chengyin’s sight.

She whispered to the dream-Qiu An, “Don’t fall for Yuan Chengyin. That woman is no good. She turned a blind eye to my suffering and later broke her promise to me.”

Qiu An agreed.