The Ice-Queen Actress Used Her Acting Skills to Reel Me In! - Chapter 20

Having been friends for so long, Qiao Qiao could easily distinguish between Qin Zhaoman’s anger and displeasure.

Right now, she seemed more displeased than outright angry.

Qiao Qiao’s voice gradually softened. She genuinely liked Shen Niannian, but still said, “If Niannian hadn’t gotten injured, given her capabilities, taking over Yahe wouldn’t have been an issue. But now that she’s caught their attention and doesn’t have her father’s backing, she’s being tossed around like a pawn. It’s so pitiful.”

In reality, it wasn’t that pitiful at all. Even if Yahe’s F-country branch were completely stripped away, as long as Shen Niannian didn’t insist on seizing power, she could comfortably rely on the remaining domestic shares and Zhao Medical Engineering without any problems.

A centipede dies but never falls—the Shen family’s wealth could sustain both Shen Niannian and Shen Sui Sui for the rest of their lives.

But when pleading for someone, the more tragic the story, the better. Even though Zelmer probably knew more than she did, the emotional weight of her words was different!

Qin Zhaoman didn’t show whether she was listening or not. She set down her wine glass and asked, “Whose friend are you, exactly?”

Seeing that she hadn’t slammed the glass down, Qiao Qiao got the hint.

She immediately softened her tone. “Of course I’m your friend. But I also think Niannian is great, so I just want you two to get along.”

Phoebe, sitting between them, had enjoyed the show long enough and asked, “What’s so great about her?”

Qiao Qiao glanced at Phoebe. She wasn’t sure about Phoebe’s stance, but she had full confidence in Shen Niannian. “Everything about her is great. Can you name a single flaw Neve has?”

Phoebe picked up the wine bottle and poured a glass on herself, clinking it against Qin Zhaoman’s on the table.

With a faint smile, she looked at Qin Zhaoman and said, “Her flaw is that she’s insincere when she should be tactful, and tactless when she should be sincere. Does that count?”

Qin Zhaoman turned to look at her, her expression unreadable.

Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh. Qin Zhaoman had never suffered setbacks since childhood—seeing her occasionally annoyed was truly entertaining.

Qiao Qiao sensed the dangerous tension between them and cut in, “What do you think about me taking care of Neve? I don’t want anything in return—I just think being around her is pleasing to the eye and lifts my mood.”

Qin Zhaoman found Qiao Qiao particularly noisy today. She hadn’t remembered her being this talkative before.

She wanted to tell Qiao Qiao to shut up, but saying so now would only confirm her interest in the topic. Instead, she fixed her gaze at the movie, pretending not to hear anything.

Phoebe asked the question Qin Zhaoman wanted to ask: “Are you going there to have Neve take care of you?”

Qiao Qiao didn’t mind at all. “I’ll take care of her! Neve injured her hand, right? How is she supposed to apply medicine to her own hand? I’ll go every day to dress her wound and bring her meals—how about that?”

She lounged on the soft sofa and pulled out her phone. “No matter what you say, I’m texting Neve to ask. What if she actually needs help?”

Phoebe chuckled but didn’t continue teasing her. Qin Zhaoman stayed silent, still watching the movie.

She speared a piece of fruit with her fork. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Qiao Qiao typing furiously—they had already been chatting for five minutes.

She hadn’t realized Shen Niannian and Qiao Qiao were so close before.

Qin Zhaoman glanced at her own phone. It remained silent, with no new messages. She popped the piece of fruit into her mouth only to realize it was guava, which she didn’t particularly like.

Qin Zhaoman grabbed a tissue, spat it out, and tossed it into the trash can.

On the big screen, the plot was reaching its climax, with interlocking clues full of twists and turns. The male and female leads delivered brilliant performances.

Phoebe watched with great interest and turned to share her thoughts: “Do you guys think Angelina is the killer?”

When no one responded after a while, she glanced to her right—Qiao Qiao was still chatting away. She then turned left and saw Qin Zhaoman watching intently. “Zelmer, do you think Angelina is the killer?”

Qin Zhaoman kept her eyes on the screen, distracted. “Angelina?”

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “The female lead. Weren’t you just watching?”

Qin Zhaoman let out an indifferent “Oh,” then said, “Probably.”

Just as Phoebe was about to tease her, Qiao Qiao let out a sorrowful sigh from the other side. “Neve rejected me. She said no!”

She squeezed onto Phoebe’s couch. “Even though I expected it, I still feel a little sad.”

Phoebe nudged her away. “If you expected it, why did you even ask?”

Qin Zhaoman picked through the fruit platter again, this time accurately selecting the cherries she loved.

Her phone buzzed. A quick glance revealed a message from Shen Niannian.

Neve: Can you come help me apply medicine?

Neve: [pitiful cat emoji]

Qin Zhaoman’s fingertips were stained with cherry juice, but she didn’t bother wiping them before typing: Are you joking?

Had Shen Niannian already forgotten she’d just rejected her two nights ago? What was with the sudden act of helplessness now?

The words sat in the message box, but Qin Zhaoman deleted them one by one before tossing her phone back onto the table.

Why should she reply? Sending that retort would only make it seem like she cared.

The black screen, smudged with red juice stains, silently mocked her—You do care, just a little.

Qin Zhaoman scoffed in frustration and poured herself another glass of wine.

As if she’d ever bother with her.

After sending the message, Shen Niannian waited five minutes but received no reply. Unfazed, she set her phone aside and methodically worked through the files on her computer.

Since her hand wasn’t in the best condition, she handled what she could from home, avoiding unnecessary trips to the office. Meetings were conducted via video calls whenever possible.

After two or three hours of work, her eyes grew tired. She blinked a few times and stood by the window to rest them.

Her gaze eventually settled on Qin Zhaoman’s yard.

The yard was barren, devoid of any plants—even the small trees that had originally come with the garden had been uprooted. The ground was paved entirely with black glass tiles, giving it a sleek but desolate look.

It matched Qin Zhaoman’s usual cold, aloof demeanor.

But not entirely.

Qin Zhaoman was actually quite warm toward her friends. Her yard could use a few flowers.

The doorbell chimed. Shen Niannian walked over and checked the monitor—it was the neighborhood concierge. She opened the door, and the concierge handed her two large bouquets of roses from a small cart.

These were just the latest in an endless stream of roses she’d received over the past two days. The concierge, now accustomed to it, simply informed her which two gentlemen had sent them before politely closing the door and leaving.

Shen Niannian carried the flowers upstairs, unwrapping them as she walked. She tossed the wrapping paper into the trash and unceremoniously dumped the roses into the laundry hamper in the bathroom.Against the wall, three laundry baskets were filled with fresh roses. The crimson of the roses contrasted beautifully with the white marble tiles, creating a scene that could be captured in a single photo as a perfect example of decadent aesthetics.

Shen Niannian didn’t spare it a second glance. She picked up her phone—four hours had passed since she sent Qin Zhaoman a message, and there was still no reply.

Sitting in her chair, she wondered: Could she really not be coming?

The sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention. Shen Niannian looked out the window and saw Qin Zhaoman’s Ferrari. Qin Zhaoman stepped out but didn’t head home—instead, she started walking toward Shen Niannian’s house.

Shen Niannian immediately stood up, searching for the small mirror on the table. When she couldn’t find it, she hurried toward the bedroom.

She had noticed more than once that Qin Zhaoman would sometimes stare at her, lost in thought.

This face has always been useful, but it’s even better that Qin Zhaoman likes it too.

Qin Zhaoman stood at Shen Niannian’s doorstep when she suddenly noticed another person waiting there—a man in a tailored suit, holding a bouquet of roses.

“What are you doing here?”

The man flinched at her abrupt voice. When he turned and saw Qin Zhaoman, he froze for a moment before quickly stepping forward with a respectful greeting, “President Qin.”

Qin Zhaoman didn’t recognize him at all. She glanced at the flowers in his hands and repeated impatiently, “What are you doing here?”

The man didn’t dare protest her harsh tone and answered politely, “I came to visit Miss Shen.”

Qin Zhaoman had already guessed as much but hearing it out loud made her voice drop even colder. “How did you get in?”

Seeing her reach for her phone to call someone, the man hastily explained, “I live in the back. I heard Neve was sick—”

Qin Zhaoman cut him off, uninterested. “Neve doesn’t want to see anyone this week. Understood?”

The man’s expression shifted before he finally nodded. “Understood.” Clutching the roses, he hurried away.

Qin Zhaoman watched him for a moment, noting how he immediately pulled out his phone as he left, before turning her attention back to the house.

She raised her hand to ring the doorbell—but just then, the door swung open from the inside.

Qin Zhaoman’s finger didn’t retract in time, hovering just millimeters from Shen Niannian’s lips.