The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

 

It was nothing unusual for an actress to suddenly change her usual perfume, but this was the first time Xu Weishuang had smelled a different scent on Yan Muyu, and for a moment, it felt unfamiliar and strange.

 

Along with the new fragrance, Yan Muyu herself suddenly felt like a stranger to her.

 

Xu Weishuang wasn’t the type of person who identified things by smell, but she had been familiar with that previous scent for six years—once deeply intoxicated by it. Now, even though the scent had faded, it still seemed buried somewhere within her body, lingering, never quite disappearing.

 

Xu Weishuang turned her face away, trying to avoid the scent spreading through her breath. Things between her and Yan Muyu were already over; they shouldn’t be sharing this kind of intimacy anymore.

 

Physical contact during acting was unavoidable. Yan Muyu was also very professional—one moment they were gazing at each other affectionately in character, the next, as soon as the scene ended, Yan Muyu would immediately collect her expression.

 

She was still gentle with Xu Weishuang, and no one around them could see anything amiss. But Xu Weishuang could sense the difference—like Yan Muyu was performing only for her to see.

 

Yet Xu Weishuang knew Yan Muyu wasn’t someone who would do something so meaningless.

 

Xu Weishuang restrained her emotions. In the past, whenever Yan Muyu was present, her attention and focus would be involuntarily drawn to her alone.

 

Now, she furrowed her brow slightly, forcing herself to break this habit.

 

Perhaps it was because Xu Weishuang had truly accepted that they were over. Unlike before, when she had claimed it was over but still allowed Yan Muyu to draw near.

 

Yan Muyu’s unfamiliar scent, her attitude devoid of any hidden possessiveness—all of it felt undeniably different.

 

Xu Weishuang was learning to adapt to that difference.

 

The auditions had gone on for some time. Yan Muyu had only come on the first day, and neither Xu Weishuang nor Luo Qin could attend every session.

 

Recently, Director Tao had asked Xu Weishuang to begin training in physical combat and strength building.

 

Though the female detective in the drama mostly relied on intellect, she also had strong physical skills. Xu Weishuang’s frame was still a bit too slender—better than when she had just started appearing on shows, but still not up to the director’s expectations.

 

Xu Weishuang had no objections. After all, aside from a few commercials and Director Tao’s drama, she had not accepted any other work since the variety show ended.

 

After her official divorce from Yan Muyu, the collaboration proposal from Shi Yan had also been shelved.

 

Xu Weishuang wasn’t sure about Shi Yan or Yan Muyu’s current stance. That night between her and Yan Muyu had ended badly.

 

She had lied—because she wanted to cut ties completely. That’s why she had said those things.

 

She still didn’t believe that Yan Muyu truly loved her.

 

Even if there was some affection, it was probably just because Xu Weishuang had been obedient.

 

She hadn’t expected Yan Muyu to look so panicked.

 

It was the first time Xu Weishuang had seen her so flustered. Yan Muyu had tried to keep control, but her trembling fingers, the vulnerability in her eyes, her rushed exit—even her hair was messy.

 

Xu Weishuang had just watched her leave. The heaviness in her chest hadn’t lifted since that night.

 

She didn’t really want to face Yan Muyu, nor could she properly consider Shi Yan’s proposal.

 

But now that she was back to acting, she did need a professional team. So through Teacher Lin, she began connecting with one or two entertainment companies.

 

Nothing was finalized yet, and Xu Weishuang wasn’t in a rush to accept new work. She trained with the martial arts coach every day, right up until the filming began.

 

Director Tao had poured a lot of effort into this drama. The early structure had been finalized long ago, and many roles were already promised to actors in advance. Only someone like Director Tao could pull that off—otherwise, few actors would agree to wait without even signing contracts.

 

From finalizing the female lead to casting and then to filming, it only took a few months. The opening ceremony was held at a temple in Fuling Mountain. The sun was shining brightly that day, and Xu Weishuang saw Yan Muyu again.

 

Yan Muyu was only playing the detective’s lover in flashbacks, with few scenes, and technically didn’t need to attend the ceremony. But she had the biggest name among the cast, and since Director Tao had invited her, she still came.

 

Director Tao even had Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu stand together. Since their divorce hadn’t been made public, everyone naturally assumed their relationship was still close.

 

When the group photo was being taken, they stood shoulder to shoulder. Luo Qin was on the other side, with her hand resting on Xu Weishuang’s shoulder. Suddenly, Yan Muyu’s arm wrapped around Xu Weishuang’s waist.

 

It had been a long time since Yan Muyu had touched her. Xu Weishuang forced herself to suppress her discomfort and turned slightly to glance at her.

 

It was as if Yan Muyu had predicted she would react. She tilted her head slightly and whispered into Xu Weishuang’s ear, “Look at the camera.”

 

This kind of closeness, given their current relationship, was definitely crossing a line. But Xu Weishuang noticed something: when Yan Muyu whispered, she had placed her fingers in front of her lips, blocking the warmth of her breath from touching Xu Weishuang’s skin.

 

She was doing it deliberately. Keeping a respectful distance.

 

Xu Weishuang lifted her eyes toward the camera. In public, they maintained this fake closeness. But once no one was watching, they became strangers—avoiding even the slightest touch.

 

This was what Xu Weishuang had once wished for. She didn’t want to stay friends after their divorce.

 

Yan Muyu’s touch was no longer natural. The warmth at her waist, the deliberate restraint in Yan Muyu’s actions—it all made Xu Weishuang feel strange.

 

The photo session ended quickly. She immediately stood upright, slipped away from Yan Muyu’s hand, and leaned slightly closer to Luo Qin, trying to put distance between them.

 

Her movement was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t watching closely. But Yan Muyu, being so close, immediately sensed it and understood what it meant.

 

Yan Muyu half-closed her eyes, her expression unchanged. She stepped back on her own, pulling the distance even wider.

 

She was more adept than Xu Weishuang at handling these situations. After backing off, she turned to strike up a conversation with another actor nearby—her manner gentle and composed, her actions entirely appropriate.

 

The other actor, delighted by Yan Muyu’s attention, responded warmly. Xu Weishuang glanced at them. She felt a wave of relief—yet an unshakable discomfort lingered in her chest.

 

She looked up at the distant sky. Light smoke curled above the temple—incense burning in the breeze. It looked like the fog clouding her own heart, never truly dispersing.

 

Then she turned to Luo Qin, trying to mimic Yan Muyu—her calm, socially adept demeanor. She took the initiative to start a conversation.

 

She didn’t really know what to say, nor could she think of much to talk about. But she believed she had to learn this—to act like Yan Muyu, to handle things like she did.

 

No one knew about the rift between them—irreparable, perhaps always destined to be.

 

…

 

Once filming began, Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu barely interacted. The scenes between the female detective and her wife in flashbacks were scheduled to be shot together, but by the time Yan Muyu joined the crew, more than three months had passed. It had been nearly half a year since their divorce.

 

Xu Weishuang’s health had improved considerably—likely due to changes in her mindset and her constant physical training on set. With a coach helping her build muscle, she looked far more energetic than she had half a year ago.

 

But when Yan Muyu saw her, she only spared her a glance before looking away.

 

Despite still being “wives” on-screen, the crew arranged for them to share a room, and Xu Weishuang didn’t protest.

 

She had a night shoot that ended after 3 a.m. Returning to the hotel, she opened the door and found the room bathed in soft, warm light. She had a habit of sleeping with a small lamp on, and one had been placed there for her.

 

The room was quiet. Yan Muyu had visited the set that day, and her assistant had informed Xu Weishuang they would be sharing a room from now on.

 

Xu Weishuang stepped inside slowly and, under the warm light, saw Yan Muyu sleeping.

 

She hadn’t known Yan Muyu also slept with the lights on.

 

She paused and stared at her for a long time, not moving.

 

But she only watched—never stepped closer.

 

Even so, Yan Muyu lying there, on the bed where Xu Weishuang rested each day, felt too intimate—as if something between them still remained. The thought made her uneasy again.

 

She stood for a long while before walking into the bathroom. While brushing her teeth, she stared into the mirror.

 

She did not feel at peace.

 

It had been this way ever since the divorce.

 

She knew she still depended on Yan Muyu. She had told herself things would fade with time.

 

But six months had passed, and even though life seemed orderly—training, studying scripts, filming—she hadn’t had a single good night’s sleep.

 

She truly didn’t want to share a room with Yan Muyu. They should no longer be intimate.

 

She didn’t want to go back.

 

After finishing her routine, she tiptoed out of the bathroom. But the moment she stepped outside, she heard a faint rustling.

 

She froze briefly, then walked forward.

 

Yan Muyu was awake—whether because of a restless sleep or the sound of water.

 

She sat leaning against the headboard, eyes downcast. When she heard Xu Weishuang’s footsteps, she slowly lifted her gaze.

 

Xu Weishuang felt her gaze but deliberately avoided it, sitting down at the vanity to dry her hair.

 

The whirring of the blow-dryer broke the silence, but the chasm between them made all sound feel futile—unable to bridge the gap.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t want to speak. Or more accurately, didn’t want to talk in this confined space with only the two of them.

 

She felt so out of place.

 

From seeing Yan Muyu on set, to seeing her asleep on the bed, to now—those calm eyes watching her.

 

It all made her feel like she couldn’t breathe, like something was clamped around her throat.

 

Fortunately, Yan Muyu (煙暮雨) didn’t say anything. She had no intention of reminiscing and quietly sat at the head of the bed, rubbing her eyes.

 

Xu Weishuang (許為霜), sitting at the vanity, noticed the movement in the mirror.

 

Yan Muyu looked exhausted.

 

Xu Weishuang lightly pressed her lips together, but her actions didn’t pause for a second.

 

After she finished drying her hair and got into bed, neither of them spoke a single word.

 

Now that no one else was around, Yan Muyu didn’t bother maintaining her gentle persona. Her expression was cold, and her attitude toward Xu Weishuang even colder. The way she looked at her held no trace of warmth.

 

When Xu Weishuang accidentally met that gaze, she immediately looked away and lay down, turning her back completely toward Yan Muyu.

 

She never imagined they would once again lie on the same bed in silence like this. The absurdity of it hit her unexpectedly.

 

Then, she heard the quiet rustle beside her—Yan Muyu was lying down too.

 

In the silence of the room, Xu Weishuang couldn’t hear anything else—not even the sound of Yan Muyu’s breathing.

 

There was only a faint, unfamiliar scent in the air.

 

Probably the smell of body wash—they both carried it on them. But this scent lingered differently near her nose. Xu Weishuang could sharply detect the subtle variation.

 

She breathed shallowly, as if afraid to disturb the person beside her.

 

She never used to care about such things. But now, she simply didn’t want to make a sound that would let Yan Muyu know how unsettled she felt.

 

I should find an excuse to live apart from her.

 

Xu Weishuang thought to herself.

 

Their scenes together weren’t many. They wouldn’t have to live together long. But even so, Xu Weishuang couldn’t stand it.

 

She thought this night would be more difficult than usual. But in a daze, she eventually fell asleep—and it turned out to be the most peaceful sleep she had had in more than half a year.

 

When Xu Weishuang woke up, she was alone in bed. After scanning the room, she confirmed Yan Muyu had already left.

 

It was only a bit past 7 a.m., and she had no idea when Yan Muyu had woken and gone.

 

She realized she had slept well—just because of the lingering scent from Yan Muyu’s body.

 

Even though that scent was no longer familiar, it still affected her.

 

Xu Weishuang closed her eyes, trying to suppress all her thoughts. She didn’t want to think anymore.

 

She got up, washed up, and texted Xiao Shiyi to come pick her up for the set.

 

When she arrived at the set, she spotted Yan Muyu from afar sitting with Director Tao.

 

Today’s filming focused on scenes between the female detective and her wife. They had already read the script together, so Xu Weishuang knew what they were about to shoot.

 

That only deepened her confusion about why Yan Muyu had taken this role. The script was filled with intimate scenes between them. Given their current relationship, Yan Muyu shouldn’t have agreed to do it.

 

But Yan Muyu never crossed any lines. Aside from what was necessary for appearances, she didn’t do anything intimate.

 

Instead, it was Xu Weishuang who avoided getting close, afraid of ambiguity.

 

When they had to get physically close during a scene, Yan Muyu kissed her on the lips in front of the camera.

 

Xu Weishuang couldn’t stay in character. Her body went stiff. She couldn’t stop herself from resisting the intimacy.

 

“Cut!” Director Tao’s voice rang out. Xu Weishuang immediately pulled away slightly from Yan Muyu’s embrace. Sensing her struggle, Yan Muyu let go and stepped back.

 

“What’s going on? Just act like you normally would with each other,” Director Tao said, not coming over to give specific direction.

 

One, both were known for their acting skills. Two, they were actually a married couple. These scenes shouldn’t be a problem. So Tao simply asked them to make a small adjustment, unaware of the real emotional distance between the two.

 

But after four or five takes with no improvement, not just Tao, but even the staff around them started to notice something was off.

 

“Sorry, Director Tao. I’ll adjust again,” Xu Weishuang bowed her head and apologized. As the makeup artist came over to touch up her look, she desperately tried to ignore the way Yan Muyu was looking at her.

 

She didn’t want to be touched by Yan Muyu at all. That brief embrace, that kiss on her lips, felt like being burned alive. She couldn’t tell whether it was Yan Muyu’s body heat or her own scorching breath.

 

Xu Weishuang feared any closeness to her. She blamed it all on herself—thinking she still wasn’t used to being truly separated from Yan Muyu, that she just needed more time.

 

But reality wouldn’t give her more time. Right now, they had to be intimate—even if her heart raced uncontrollably, even if her breathing grew more erratic.

 

“Did you two have a fight?” Anyone could see something was really wrong between them. Though matters of the heart weren’t for Tao to comment on, she wouldn’t tolerate such unprofessionalism on set.

 

Even if they were enemies now, the kissing scene still had to be shot.

 

Yan Muyu shook her head and answered calmly.

 

“No fight? Then what are you doing? Do you even know what your expression looked like just now? I told you to love her, and you couldn’t even meet her eyes?”

 

Director Tao was strict on set. She didn’t scold people all the time, but she definitely wasn’t easygoing.

 

Xu Weishuang had gotten used to her style. She was one of the few who rarely got scolded. Luo Qin even said Tao really liked her and treated her better than others.

 

Xu Weishuang never expected Yan Muyu to be scolded too. She also didn’t expect that Yan Muyu’s performance had been just as unnatural.

 

So it wasn’t just her who couldn’t adjust.

 

Yan Muyu lowered her eyes and showed a helpless expression. She apologized to Tao and rubbed the corner of her eye. “I’ll get it right.”

 

They started filming again, but despite both saying they would adjust, neither could meet the director’s expectations. Tao’s expression grew more serious.

 

If it had been another director, they might have just told the actors to rest and come back later. But not Tao.

 

Every actor who had worked with her had complained at some point about her pressure-cooker style of pushing performers to grow.

 

If it wasn’t good enough, they would keep shooting. One shot. One frame. Until she was satisfied.

 

That’s exactly how she treated Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu now.

 

If Xu Weishuang stiffened at Yan Muyu’s kiss, if Yan Muyu couldn’t even look at her partner, then they’d keep filming—again and again—until their emotions melted into the performance, until they couldn’t help but fall into the roles of two women deeply in love.

 

Yan Muyu kissed Xu Weishuang over and over again. Her gaze slowly fixated on Xu Weishuang’s lips. Neither of them knew how many times they had kissed. Director Tao never called cut.

 

“Again. One more time.”

 

Her voice echoed in their ears. Xu Weishuang grew more and more rigid. Yan Muyu finally let out a barely audible sigh.

 

Even before Tao said “Action,” Yan Muyu reached out and caressed Xu Weishuang’s cheek. Her fingertips gently brushed across her skin and paused on her lips—already flushed from the repeated kisses.

 

Xu Weishuang was startled. She looked up at Yan Muyu with puzzled and conflicted eyes.

 

“Don’t think about anything,” Yan Muyu whispered as she leaned in, resting her forehead against Xu Weishuang’s, their noses gently touching.

 

At that distance, it was intimate—too intimate. They were no longer in character. This went beyond any safe boundary.

 

But Xu Weishuang didn’t push her away. Right now, they had to cross boundaries. Tao was watching them and wouldn’t let them fudge it.

 

This development was inevitable.

 

So why had Yan Muyu taken this role?

 

Xu Weishuang found herself wondering again. She needed the job. A drama with Director Tao was a huge opportunity. But why would Yan Muyu accept it?

 

She didn’t need to play a minor character who only appeared in the lead’s memories a few times.

 

And nearly all of her scenes were intimate with Xu Weishuang. This was just a kiss. Later, there were more explicit bed scenes.

 

They both knew they shouldn’t be close like this again—so why had Yan Muyu come?

 

Xu Weishuang couldn’t figure it out. Not now—because Yan Muyu had lowered her eyes and leaned in, cupping Xu Weishuang’s face, kissing her softly.

 

This kiss was nothing like the stiff, forced ones from before. Yan Muyu kissed her gently, her teeth grazing her lips, both tender and possessive.

 

Just like they had once been.

 

But there was something different too.

 

Yan Muyu sighed long and low into the kiss. Her fingertips trembled as if it were the first time she had kissed the person she loved—careful, uncertain.

 

Her eyes held no obsession or madness now—only a sorrow deep enough to break your heart.

 

“Respond to me,” she whispered.

 

Xu Weishuang noticed the stares around them—Director Tao had turned to look, and the cameras were back on them.

 

This wasn’t crossing the line.

 

The fire in her chest burned wildly, threatening to consume her, but she knew clearly:

 

They hadn’t crossed the line.

 

This was part of the scene. They had to show attachment, longing, love.

 

She had to surrender to it.

 

Xu Weishuang closed her eyes and finally responded to the kiss.

 

The familiar sensation—the scent, though now changed—stirred everything buried deep in her body back to life.

 

As if they had never been apart for a single moment.

 

So sweet.

 

Yan Muyu’s lips. Yan Muyu’s breath. Yan Muyu’s kiss.

 

All of it, intoxicatingly sweet.

 

She couldn’t resist anymore. Tilting her head back, she wanted to give her body and soul to Yan Muyu completely.

 

But she knew—this was all for the camera.
Xu Weishuang understood that completely.