The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Xu Weishuang had rarely seen Yan Muyu like this before, and her instincts told her something was off.
She knew that Yan Muyu was looking at her, but she instinctively didn’t want to meet her gaze.
The air around them felt suffocating.
She knew this feeling was brought on by Yan Muyu’s presence, yet she still reflexively avoided it, blaming it instead on the persistent rain and the muggy, oppressive weather.
“Let’s get out of here first.” The two stood on the steps in front of the theater. Though there was no one else around due to the rain, it wasn’t ideal to just keep standing there.
Besides, even though Yan Muyu had an umbrella, she’d walked through the rain and was partially soaked — her clothing far too thin for such weather.
Yan Muyu’s gaze remained fixed on Xu Weishuang, then she finally gave a small nod.
Seeing this, Xu Weishuang felt her strangeness even more keenly, but still took the lead and brought her to where she was staying.
Xu Weishuang had been at the Xiá Níng Theatre for half a month already, staying in the staff dormitory — a small single room. Though modest in size, it was tidy and neat, organized with care.
As Yan Muyu stepped into the room, she was immediately surrounded by signs of Xu Weishuang’s daily life.
Even though she was no longer in the so-called “marital home,” it seemed Xu Weishuang was doing just fine.
Everything in the room was warm and cozy. Xu Weishuang had even lit a scented diffuser, and a light, elegant fragrance greeted Yan Muyu at the door.
The only thing that seemed out of place was a large mirror by the window. Yan Muyu, being an actress herself, instantly knew what it was for.
Many young actors, when first learning the craft, had to go through basic training in voice, body movement, and facial expression.
It was common to keep a mirror nearby in their living space, so they could constantly observe and adjust their expressions and posture.
This was standard practice in acting classes — to ensure actors could accurately recognize the emotional expressions tied to every feeling.
But that kind of foundational training was mostly done in school. Yan Muyu had seen Xu Weishuang’s performances — she was the type blessed with innate talent. She didn’t need that kind of basic practice anymore.
“You still do facial expression training now?” Yan Muyu asked, both out of curiosity and as a way to spark conversation.
After entering, Xu Weishuang had taken off her coat, hung it on the rack, wiped the damp ends of her hair, and went to the bathroom to get a towel for Yan Muyu, who was more thoroughly soaked.
Just as she handed the towel over, she heard the question.
She paused before replying, “Teacher Lin told me to start over.”
Since coming to Xiá Níng Theatre, Xu Weishuang had only been doing basic exercises. Teacher Lin hadn’t allowed her to do anything else, checking her daily with a stern face.
But Xu Weishuang had no complaints. What she was practicing wasn’t the fundamentals — those had long since become second nature to her. Rather, this was Lin’s way of tempering her — a small punishment, even.
“Teacher Lin Mian?” Yan Muyu knew of her relationship with Lin.
Teacher Lin Mian was a veteran actress with high standing in the industry. In later years, she transitioned to theater and achieved great success. The fact that she had once taken a disciple wasn’t widely known to the public, but those in the industry had heard of it.
It was just that the disciple had quickly disappeared from the scene, and few paid attention after that.
“Yes,” Xu Weishuang answered simply.
She glanced at Yan Muyu’s soaked sleeves and back, hesitated for a moment, then said, “You should take a shower. I have clean clothes you can change into.”
She said this calmly. Though their six-year marriage had largely revolved around physical intimacy rather than emotional connection, there had been moments of ordinary life between them.
Rare as they were, after so many years of marriage, there had been shared routines.
Even in intimate moments, Yan Muyu was never rushed or impatient — she often prolonged every experience with careful intent.
Right now, Xu Weishuang simply didn’t want her to keep wearing soaking wet clothes. But when Yan Muyu heard her suggestion, she averted her eyes, lowered her head slightly — a subtle, awkward gesture that made Xu Weishuang feel unexpectedly awkward too.
Xu Weishuang instinctively took a breath, and finally, Yan Muyu softly replied, “Okay.”
Yet the breath still didn’t come easy.
Yan Muyu turned and walked into the bathroom. Xu Weishuang paced to the window, where she saw her own reflection in the large mirror.
Because of Teacher Lin’s requirements, Xu Weishuang had been observing herself in this mirror daily.
Studying every emotion, every tiny change in her expressions.
A good actor had to master themselves completely before they could fully inhabit the emotions required by a role.
Looking now at her own face, Xu Weishuang saw that her expression was far from calm.
Many people thought she was cold and indifferent, emotionally numb. But someone who could dive into a character’s heart so quickly and grasp emotions with such precision couldn’t possibly be emotionless.
Xu Weishuang’s feelings had simply been suppressed for too long — numbed, dulled.
She was more sensitive than anyone — which was why Yan Muyu’s presence stirred her emotions, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Even if she tried to hide it well, the truth was now staring back at her in the mirror.
She turned away, unwilling to look further. As always, she buried her feelings and gazed out the window in silent evasion.
Fine rain fell like threads, tapping rhythmically on the windowsill, rendering the city outside misty and vague. The Xiá Níng Theatre’s iconic spire loomed faintly in the rain and fog.
Xu Weishuang stared blankly at the raindrops trickling down the glass, but her heart couldn’t find peace.
Not until the sound of water from the bathroom ceased did she finally close her eyes, turn, and go to the closet to find clothes for Yan Muyu to change into.
She knocked lightly on the door and asked, “I brought you some clothes — can I come in?”
After a short wait, there was no verbal reply, but the bathroom door opened from the inside.
Warm steam poured out, and in the hazy mist, a graceful figure appeared before Xu Weishuang’s eyes.
As the air in the room and the bathroom mingled, that figure grew clearer.
Yan Muyu was undeniably beautiful — her bare skin tinged faintly pink from the warmth, her smooth body flawless.
Xu Weishuang stood at the doorway watching her, and Yan Muyu didn’t shy away at all, calmly meeting her gaze.
It wasn’t the first time they’d seen each other naked, but the steamy fog wrapping around Yan Muyu made her seem almost surreal to Xu Weishuang’s dazed eyes.
After a moment, she finally extended her arm, offering the clothes she held.
But Yan Muyu didn’t take them. Her eyes flicked toward the clothes, then returned to Xu Weishuang’s face.
The slight frown in Xu Weishuang’s brow, her cool demeanor — under this damp, misty air — now seemed tinged with something faintly ambiguous.
“Do you want to shower together?” Yan Muyu asked, reaching out to grab her wrist and pulling her into the bathroom. The door shut behind them.
Xu Weishuang was pulled into her embrace, her body instantly dampened by the water clinging to Yan Muyu.
She hadn’t even had time to speak before Yan Muyu’s hands slid around her waist, her breath close against her neck as she whispered:
“I missed you so much, Xiaoshuang.”
Xu Weishuang tilted her head slightly, forced by the closeness. At her ear was the soft lilt of Yan Muyu’s voice, tinged with a smile.
The turmoil in her heart — abruptly fell silent.
Yan Muyu always had a way of calming her.
It had been this way for all six years.