The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Chen Xin looked toward Xu Weishuang in the center of the room. The warm sunlight from the window happened to fall directly on her.
Her skin—so pale it bordered on translucent—glowed like crystal under the light, dazzling enough to make one mistake her for an angel at first glance.
But Xu Weishuang wasn’t an angel. Except when performing, her expression was usually cold and unreadable. Most of the time, she resembled a winter stream that hadn’t yet frozen over—clear and pure, but icy to the touch.
Chen Xin had never liked her. She thought Xu Weishuang was aloof, arrogant, and ungrateful for the mentoring from Teacher Lin.
Teacher Lin had worked in the theater for years, highly respected in both the acting and drama circles. Chen Xin had come to Xianning Theater specifically because of her. Back then, the theater’s leading actress hadn’t left yet, and Chen Xin was still playing supporting roles.
She had always wanted to become Lin’s disciple, but Lin only took Xu Weishuang—and only ever wanted to take her.
Chen Xin had watched Xu Weishuang perform before. Her skills were good, yes—but Chen Xin was also considered talented. She was someone the theater saw potential in, someone they were investing in. She wasn’t lacking in ability.
She worked harder than Xu Weishuang. She cherished her opportunities more. When she started gaining attention, she even gave it up to get married and step away from the industry. From the very beginning, she didn’t see anything particularly worthy about Xu Weishuang that could earn Lin’s expectations.
Until she saw Xu Weishuang’s performance in Smoke and Rain.
In the entertainment world and in Xianning Theater, everyone who could stay had talent—but talent also had its gradients.
There was only one star performer in the theater. Only one lead.
Chen Xin had seniors too, but she had taken the lead role from them.
And now, Xu Weishuang was here to take that spot from her.
“She’s not going to join the theater.”
Immersed in her own anxiety, Chen Xin suddenly heard a voice beside her.
She looked up at Teacher Lin, who seemed slightly helpless. Lin didn’t even look at her—her gaze remained fixed on Xu Weishuang.
Chen Xin envied Xu Weishuang—but she hated even more that she was capable of feeling this way.
“She probably won’t enjoy repeating the same role over and over again,” Lin said with a small smile, before her tone turned serious again. “You can see her acting style, can’t you?”
Of course Chen Xin could. She had felt it clearly when acting opposite Xu Weishuang earlier.
Xu was that rare kind of performer—someone completely immersed in the role, dissolving her own identity into the character.
Not everyone can do that. Not everyone deserves to.
That kind of talent is dangerous—but deeply enviable.
“You know I don’t like formal teacher-disciple relationships,” Lin said. In their industry, those titles meant something—once you took a student or called someone your mentor, it shaped your access to resources and networks.
Lin had always rejected that system—yet she had made an exception for Xu Weishuang.
“I just don’t want to see someone with such potential destroy herself.” Lin once had a classmate who acted just like Xu Weishuang—but lacked her luck.
That woman hadn’t had the kind of striking looks that attracted attention. She hadn’t found a good mentor to teach her how to keep her emotions in check. She never got famous. After acting in a low-budget horror film, she completely collapsed.
All that remained of her was a vague rumor—a lead actress who went mad after being tormented by a director, then vanished from the industry.
Lin didn’t want Xu Weishuang to meet the same fate. That’s why she had broken her own rule.
Chen Xin understood. She suddenly lifted her head and looked at Lin with wide eyes.
“You shouldn’t compare yourself to her. You two are not the same.” Lin continued, her voice firm. “The theater wants to nurture you because you’re worth nurturing. Don’t lose yourself over petty emotions.”
“You both have your own paths to follow.” Lin’s words echoed in Chen Xin’s ears. She wasn’t ready to let go just yet—but something inside her had begun to loosen.
She looked back toward Xu Weishuang. The other woman still stood bathed in warm light, flawless as ever.
Xu Weishuang seemed to notice the shift in Chen Xin’s gaze and turned her head to look at her.
Chen Xin instinctively wanted to look away—but stopped herself. Their eyes met.
After a pause, Chen Xin gave Xu Weishuang a friendly smile.
Xu Weishuang was surprised by the sudden warmth—but she never cared much about these things. If Chen Xin wanted to show goodwill, there was no reason to reject it.
So she nodded slightly in return.
Their brief interaction was seen by Yan Muyu. She glanced at Chen Xin, remembering what she’d seen earlier when she entered. Her smile hardened ever so slightly.
But no one noticed the change. She always wore her mask well.
The impromptu performance had only been part of the theater’s practice session. Since everyone knew Yan Muyu had come to see her wife, Teacher Lin simply gave Xu Weishuang the rest of the day off.
…
“Xiao Shuang, do you like acting?”
The two of them were sitting in a quiet corner of a café across from the theater.
Yan Muyu was actually very busy. Her manager Shi Yan had already called several times to hurry her along—but looking at Xu Weishuang, she didn’t want to leave just yet.
Xu Weishuang thought about the question for a moment, then said:
“I think… I do.”
Her answer wasn’t exactly firm—but she rarely expressed her desires clearly. So that level of affirmation was already a lot.
“I can help you,” Yan Muyu said with a smile. That was exactly what she wanted to hear.
If Xu Weishuang wanted to act, then she’d need resources. And that gave Yan Muyu a reason to stay involved in her life. A reason to stay close.
Ever since Xu Weishuang had mentioned divorce, Yan Muyu had been haunted by the fear of losing her. She couldn’t accept it—and she certainly wouldn’t let it happen.
Outside, the rain began again—a fine, drizzling mist. Drawn by the sound of it, Xu Weishuang turned to look out the window.
Yan Muyu continued watching her, waiting patiently for her reply.
But no response came. Time passed in silence.
Eventually, Yan Muyu lowered her gaze, also turning to look outside. The street had emptied quickly in the sudden downpour. The cold had arrived with it.
The hot coffee in front of them couldn’t drive away the chill—nor could it soften the indifference between Xu Weishuang’s brows.
At last, Xu Weishuang turned to face Yan Muyu again.
Their eyes met—and Yan Muyu already knew what her answer was.
“I don’t want to be friends after the divorce,” Xu Weishuang finally said.
She didn’t want any more contact with Yan Muyu. Didn’t want a so-called friendship to tie them together after everything.
Because Yan Muyu’s presence made her feel suffocated.
Like the rain yesterday. Like the intimacy of last night.
She had lost control.
Yan Muyu hadn’t noticed.
Or maybe she had—and just dismissed it as a moment of excitement.
Last night, Xu Weishuang had seen herself in the mirror—her expression lit with joy from Yan Muyu’s touch. She had always liked it. Even when her body was bound, even when the coarse rope bit into her skin and made her gasp.
She had wanted to scream in ecstasy—but made no sound.
She had seen herself in that mirror, unable to even control her physiological responses. Had seen Yan Muyu behind her—possessing her.
Her bare skin against the cold sink. Her mind sharp and aware even in the heat of passion.
And she knew—it wasn’t just the s3x that thrilled her.
It was Yan Muyu’s appearance. That presence stirred something in her.
When Yan Muyu kissed her, she had finally felt something like peace.
But she had already decided to start over. And in that new life, she could not let Yan Muyu remain.
She didn’t want to admit that she still depended on her.
Like she did six years ago—dependent on Yan Muyu to soothe her through pain and comfort.
So, in the world she was building now, Yan Muyu had no place.
Hearing those words, Yan Muyu held her warm coffee cup. There was a heart-shaped design on it. When the server had brought their drinks earlier, she’d even mentioned these were couple mugs.
Yan Muyu smiled faintly, didn’t look away.
She straightened slightly in her seat and stared into Xu Weishuang’s eyes.
“Then I don’t want to divorce you either.”