The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Xu Weishuang had thought it was merely a moment of indulgence, but since she had already become entangled with Yan Muyu, how could it end so easily?
She did find silence—but only the kind born from total surrender to desire, utterly controlled by Yan Muyu, unable to think of anything else.
Yan Muyu was also skilled at psychological manipulation. Afterward, her retreating yet persistent attitude lowered Xu Weishuang’s guard, drawing her back into a cycle of entanglement again and again.
Xu Weishuang wasn’t blind to Yan Muyu’s tactics, but she also knew that she herself had compromised in the tug-of-war between her heart and reality.
She had nowhere else to go.
Yan Muyu once said they were merely using each other—Xu Weishuang was her outlet, and she was Xu Weishuang’s tool for escaping pain.
Their marriage was just a way to appease the Yan family, who disapproved of their daughter getting involved in the entertainment industry’s scandalous habits. If she was going to be with Xu Weishuang, marriage had to come first.
Neither of them cared much for such formalities. Even the vows at the wedding felt empty to them.
All Xu Weishuang remembered from their wedding night was the “reward” Yan Muyu finally gave her—an experience filled with both pain and pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known.
It made her realize how much Yan Muyu had restrained herself before they got married—perhaps out of fear of scaring her away, perhaps afraid she couldn’t handle it and would flee.
Only on their wedding night did Yan Muyu fully reveal her true nature.
She recounted every time Xu Weishuang had resisted her, punishing her over and over again, demanding her repentance, demanding her submission.
Xu Weishuang knelt on the living room coffee table, blindfolded. Yan Muyu hated seeing her eyes at such moments. Xu hadn’t known this before, but later she found out: her eyes reminded Yan Muyu of someone else—someone from her heart.
She treated Xu Weishuang as a stand-in, yet couldn’t bear to look into her eyes.
Was it because what she did to Xu Weishuang felt like a betrayal to that person?
Xu Weishuang found it laughable, but didn’t really care what Yan Muyu was thinking anymore.
Her mind could no longer function rationally—kneeling there, naked, on the coffee table, was Yan Muyu’s punishment.
And punishment was never supposed to be easy.
Yan Muyu pried her lips open and fed her water. She had been kneeling there for a long time—her knees were numb with pain, her body cold and uncomfortable.
Yan Muyu would kiss her from time to time, or strike her. Xu Weishuang didn’t know if she liked it or hated it—but she never once asked for it to stop.
Nor did she ever beg for mercy.
It was as if she instinctively knew what kind of submission would please Yan Muyu—and so she obeyed, unconsciously.
It would take Xu Weishuang years to realize that she had always lived in an environment where pleasing others was a survival instinct—and over time, it had become second nature.
At that time, Yan Muyu stared into her eyes, half-guiding, half-forcing her to speak the truth.
For six years, they had used each other, needed each other—but love had never been part of it. They never crossed that line. So when Xu Weishuang brought up divorce, she never thought Yan Muyu would refuse.
…
Now, in the restaurant, Yan Muyu stood in front of her. Xu Weishuang suddenly brought up the first time they met, as if to remind them both that there had never been any real feelings between them.
It was also because she noticed something strange in Yan Muyu’s smile—and instinctively backed away.
“I’ll work around your schedule for the divorce,” Xu Weishuang said, avoiding her gaze. “PR and the Yan family will cooperate as best as they can too.”
Even though she was sure Yan Muyu wouldn’t object, the latter’s prolonged silence filled her with a faint sense of doubt and unease.
She looked at Yan Muyu again, but before she could read her expression, a sudden knock at the door interrupted them.
“Excuse me, would you like your food served now?” the waiter’s voice came from outside.
Xu Weishuang paused for a moment. When she looked back at Yan Muyu, her face had already returned to its usual calm.
“Please bring it in now,” Yan Muyu said as she walked over to the door and spoke with the waiter.
“This is the pianist’s program list for tonight’s performance,” the waiter said, handing her a sheet.
This restaurant wasn’t a place just anyone could reserve, and while the performers weren’t famous, they were undoubtedly professional.
Yan Muyu casually picked a song. Soon, the food and pianist arrived together.
The soft piano music filled the room pleasantly, but neither of them had the heart to appreciate it.
Yan Muyu still hadn’t responded to the divorce matter Xu Weishuang had brought up earlier, and with others now present, Xu didn’t ask again.
After the meal, Yan Muyu dropped her off at the hotel and left in a rush due to work—never giving Xu Weishuang a chance to speak again.
Watching her leave so hurriedly, Xu Weishuang felt a strange pang in her chest.
But it was just a passing feeling—nothing she dwelled on.
They had always been like this for six years. Nothing to be surprised about.
Yan Muyu really was busy, and since Xu Weishuang had already brought up the divorce, she assumed Yan Muyu would handle it in due time. She’d cooperate when the time came.
What she didn’t expect was that a video of Yan Muyu visiting her on set would be leaked online—shattering the recent rumors about Yan Muyu and Xu Xia, and putting Xu Weishuang back into the spotlight.
When she had first debuted, she had stunned everyone—winning Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actress. People thought she was a rising star in the entertainment world.
But no one expected her to marry Yan Muyu and disappear completely from the scene.
That was a long time ago now, and people’s memories had faded—only her true fans still remembered her dazzling presence.
Seeing her reappear, and even filming again, some fans felt nostalgic. Others just pitied her. Still others no longer cared at all.
But none of that mattered to Xu Weishuang. She barely looked at social media while on set.
The following weeks passed with her focused solely on work, and Yan Muyu hardly contacted her again. They returned to their old, distant rhythm.
Yan Muyu still hadn’t mentioned any updates about the divorce. Though Xu Weishuang was curious, she wasn’t in a rush. She assumed Yan was just too busy and figured she’d bring it up again once filming wrapped.
So she let it go.
After more than two months, filming finally ended. On wrap day, she received a red envelope and a gift from Shan Keke.
Shan Keke had given a gift to everyone, so Xu Weishuang wasn’t surprised.
“Miss Xu, this is just a small token—congratulations on finishing the shoot,” Shan Keke said. She didn’t give the gift in public but waited until the workday was over to find her alone.
Xu Weishuang paused as she accepted the gift, sensing that it was different from the ones Shan Keke had given the others.
“You’re amazing, Miss Xu. I’m your fan now. I really hope you’ll keep acting,” Shan Keke said, a bit nervously. She was sensitive and could tell Xu Weishuang didn’t usually welcome such warmth—but this time she wanted to say it anyway.
She was sincere. These small web dramas didn’t demand real acting skills—this era valued hype and shipping couples more than talent. Shan Keke never felt bad about playing the game to earn money.
But Xu Weishuang’s passion and precision during every performance had left an impression on the entire crew.
Shan Keke didn’t necessarily think Xu’s way was the only “right” way—but when she heard others mocking Xu Weishuang’s hard work, she’d felt furious.
Later, she’d mustered the courage to ask Xu for guidance—and Xu Weishuang had taught her without holding anything back.
“Miss Xu, I’ll work hard to improve my acting. I really want to be good at this.”
She had overheard the director say that Xu Weishuang didn’t plan to return to acting—Shan Keke thought that was a real shame.
Xu Weishuang seemed to sense the unspoken meaning in her words and wasn’t sure how to respond.
After a long moment, she finally gave a soft answer: “Alright.”
She held the gift from Shan Keke in her hands but couldn’t bring herself to accept the hope and sincerity behind it.
After saying goodbye to the crew, she drove home alone, feeling oddly disoriented.
She truly hadn’t planned to return to acting—but Shan Keke’s eyes, filled with expectation, lingered in her mind.
Someone else had once looked at her that way too—full of admiration and joy for her talent.
But she had let that person down.
When Xu Weishuang arrived at the villa, she found Yan Muyu was already there—and then remembered she had mentioned she’d be back the day filming ended.
Yan Muyu was working out in the home gym. When she heard the door, she guessed it was Xu Weishuang.
Wiping her sweat casually, she walked out and saw her.
Xu Weishuang stood frozen at the door, staring blankly at her. Yan Muyu noticed her odd reaction and was about to ask—but Xu spoke first.
“Do you think I can still keep acting?”
Her question came out of nowhere. Yan Muyu was only slightly surprised, then walked toward her with a smile.
“You’ve never needed me to make decisions for you.”
Standing in front of her, Yan Muyu reached out and gently caressed her cool, pale face, her eyes lowering, her voice soft:
“You’ve never been obedient.”
“Same goes for the divorce.”