The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Yan Muyu was very busy. After that day, she and Xu Weishuang hardly saw each other again. As for the Yan family matters, Xu Weishuang couldn’t get involved, so she simply distanced herself, waiting for Yan Muyu to handle things on her own.
Yan Muyu did explain to her that there really was nothing between her and Xu Xia — Xu Xia was merely the younger sister of someone from her past, and also a new talent the company was planning to promote. That was why Yan Muyu had been keeping her close.
Xu Weishuang understood clearly. That person from the past — wasn’t it Yan Muyu’s deceased white moonlight, Si Yu?
No wonder the two looked so alike.
But as for the divorce, Xu Weishuang had no intention of retracting it. It was no longer about Yan Muyu’s actions. She had made up her mind — she didn’t want to stay stuck in the past anymore. She wanted to move forward.
Over the next few days, Xu Weishuang stayed home sorting out her belongings. Meanwhile, the web drama she had acted in was released — and unexpectedly, it became a modest hit.
Many of Yan Muyu’s fans — people who usually wouldn’t watch a mindless web drama — tuned in just to support her.
Xu Weishuang only realized this after checking her social media, where she saw that Yan Muyu had reposted the official promotion for the drama.
Senior Sister Li, excited by the drama’s popularity, called Xu Weishuang to thank her. After all, someone of Yan Muyu’s stature wouldn’t casually promote a small web drama unless it was for someone important.
Whether it was because Xu Weishuang had asked, or because Yan Muyu had done it on her own, the reason was clearly her — so it was reasonable for Li to express gratitude.
She also took the opportunity to mention something about Teacher Lin.
“Teacher Lin said, since you’re willing to act again, go find her.”
Xu Weishuang didn’t know how to respond right away. She pressed her lips together and stayed silent for a long while before quietly replying, “Okay.”
“Oh, remember to call first — lately Teacher Lin has been rehearsing dances with Professor Ye from the Dance Department. She’s not home often,” Li added cheerfully before hanging up.
Xu Weishuang was left sitting silently, listening to the dead tone from the other end.
She hadn’t contacted Teacher Lin since marrying Yan Muyu. Back then, her breakout film role had been thanks to Lin — by then, their relationship was no longer just teacher and student at university.
Teacher Lin had never married, never wanted children, and had planned to devote her life to cinema. But when she met Xu Weishuang, something changed — she suddenly wanted to nurture someone, to pass on her knowledge. So she formally took her as a disciple and brought her into the industry, intending to raise her as a successor.
But after winning an award, Xu Weishuang abruptly retired from acting and got married, angering Teacher Lin so much that she didn’t even attend the wedding and cut off all contact.
If it hadn’t been for Senior Sister Li’s mention of how much Lin still cared about her all these years, Xu Weishuang would’ve thought she was still furious and would never forgive her.
Of all the people she owed in life, besides that person’s mother, the one she felt guiltiest toward was Teacher Lin, who had devoted herself to her. She had trapped herself for far too long. Now, she finally wanted to break free.
She dialed the number. The brief wait felt excruciatingly long in her mind — she couldn’t imagine what Lin’s first words would be. Until the call was picked up, and that familiar voice rang out:
“With acting that bad, you still dare to call me?”
Teacher Lin was already in her fifties, but her voice was still full of strength, coming clearly through the receiver.
Xu Weishuang hadn’t expected their first words after reconnecting to be like this. She was momentarily speechless — but somehow, it felt incredibly familiar.
And though Lin was scolding her poor acting, it meant she had seen her latest performance.
Xu Weishuang felt a pang of guilt and softly accepted the scolding.
“Come to the Xiá Níng Theatre and start again,” Lin said over the phone.
Her tone wasn’t as forceful as before.
Xu Weishuang understood what she meant — going to the theater meant she truly intended to return.
Teacher Lin didn’t ask what she’d been doing for the past six years, nor did she blame her for quitting back then. She only cared that if she was willing to come back, she would train her again.
All her life, Xu Weishuang had walked the path others chose for her. This time, she wanted to choose for herself.
“Okay, I understand, Teacher,” she replied softly.
It was a promise to her teacher — and to herself.
“…When will you come?” Lin was probably surprised that she agreed so quickly. She paused for a while before asking again.
“In three days. I need to pack some things,” Xu Weishuang answered.
After saying it, she suddenly felt an unfamiliar sense of relief. She looked up toward the window — the floor-to-ceiling glass in the villa’s living room revealed a clear view outside.
Golden sunlight, like tiny stars, filtered through the trees in the front yard and spilled into the room, casting warm, dappled patches of light.
Her heart — it felt like it had come alive again. It felt warm.
….
Three days passed quickly.
Xu Weishuang stood with her packed luggage, taking a final look around the villa.
Before leaving, she went to feed the little white snake. The housekeeper was terrified of it, so feeding it had always been her job.
At first, Xu Weishuang hadn’t understood why Yan Muyu would keep a snake as a pet.
But once, she saw Yan Muyu let the white snake coil around her hand, her expression cold as she watched it crawl along her arm — and Xu Weishuang had vaguely understood.
Yan Muyu wasn’t as gentle and warm as she appeared. She was like this snake — beautiful and pure white, with none of the usual danger associated with snakes, looking like an elegant, harmless pet.
But its scales were cold, its eyes fixed steadily on you, its tail coiled tightly around you.
Touching its body gave an inevitable chill, and when it flicked its tongue, it still triggered an instinctive fear.
Yan Muyu had hidden it well — her beauty, her calm demeanor — all of it, like the snake, was a disguise.
The little white snake was smart. It recognized Xu Weishuang. Every time she approached the glass enclosure, it would slither over.
It seemed to really like her — aside from Yan Muyu, she was the only one it allowed to touch it.
But Xu Weishuang never knew whether that affection meant it saw her as a kindred spirit — or as prey.
She stared at the snake for a while, but couldn’t find the answer. After all, the snake couldn’t speak.
And from now on, she probably wouldn’t be the one feeding it anymore.
Going to Xiá Níng Theatre wasn’t just about work — it was a new beginning.
The divorce was merely paperwork to mark their separation. But from the moment she brought it up, they were supposed to honor their original agreement and end this relationship.
That’s why she hadn’t told Yan Muyu in advance about her departure — it was only when she fed the snake and suddenly remembered it would need a new caretaker that she sent a message to inform her.
She had no idea what Yan Muyu felt upon receiving that message.
Not until a few days later, when outside Xiá Níng Theatre, she suddenly saw Yan Muyu walking toward her through the steady rain, holding a black umbrella.
The rain had been falling all day, the sky gray and dull, the air thick with dampness — cold and oppressive.
Yan Muyu walked up to her, alone, wearing only a thin top. Her sleeves were half soaked from the rain.
She closed her umbrella. Since there were others around Xu Weishuang, she smiled and greeted them politely.
Everyone, charmed by her gentle smile, understood she had come for Xu Weishuang. Not daring to interrupt, they quickly made themselves scarce.
But Xu Weishuang sensed the coldness radiating from her.
Colder than ever before. Colder than this relentless rain.
“Why did you come?” Xu Weishuang looked down and asked.
But she didn’t answer.
Now that there were no others around, she no longer smiled. She simply looked at Xu Weishuang quietly — behind her, rain poured from the sky, gray and heavy, without a hint of light.
It was as if the whole world had been swallowed by gloom.