The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 39

Chapter 39

 

Yan Muyu felt her whole body go cold, like she was drowning in a bottomless pool, unable to breathe, every inch of her flesh wracked with searing pain.

 

Her heart felt as if it had been torn to shreds in an instant, completely beyond repair.

 

Yan Muyu had never loved anyone this deeply. The Yan family environment never allowed her the luxury of affection. She didn’t know how to love—until she poured every ounce of herself into Xu Weishuang, using every tactic, all her strength.

 

But Xu Weishuang didn’t love her.

 

After losing Xu Weishuang, Yan Muyu didn’t seem any different on the outside—she was too good at hiding her vulnerability.

 

Her fragility, her loss of control, her breakdowns—she only ever showed them in front of Xu Weishuang. Only Xu Weishuang could hurt the real her, hidden behind the mask.

 

But was it really hurt?

 

Not loving her was just that—Xu Weishuang didn’t love her, and everything she did was reasonable. It was Yan Muyu who caught feelings, who broke the agreement between them. It was her who hurt Xu Weishuang.

 

It was her jealousy that drove her to snatch the role in the drama—just so no one else could act out intimate scenes with Xu Weishuang.

 

The longing for Xu Weishuang drove her to the brink of madness. Not a moment of peace had followed the divorce.

 

She was jealous of everyone on set who got to spend time with Xu Weishuang. She couldn’t let go, yet had to pretend to be indifferent.

 

But now, all she could see was darkness, suffocation, and cold.

 

She could no longer feel anything. Everything around her had warped.

 

Or maybe she herself had warped. Maybe she was never normal to begin with.

 

Yan Muyu let out a hoarse laugh. She couldn’t control herself. Everything she had foolishly assumed—the idea that Xu Weishuang might have feelings for her—was laughable.

 

Yan Muyu, you really are laughable.

 

She didn’t want to cry. That was the last shred of dignity she had left. She didn’t want to shed tears in front of Xu Weishuang ever again.

 

So she sidestepped Xu Weishuang, walked to the window, and pushed it open.

 

The cold night wind rushed in, filling her body, but she couldn’t even feel the chill. Her heart had already frozen, her body numb.

 

Leaning against the windowsill, she lit a cigarette. Her eyes were hidden behind the smoke—hazy, unreadable. At last, she spoke, laughing coldly, her sorrow masked:
“You never loved me. So why worry?”

 

She looked at Xu Weishuang with a calm that was almost eerie—so peaceful it felt like everything inside her had died. It made Xu Weishuang deeply uneasy.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind had been a mess for days, caught in the endless tug-of-war between temptation and restraint.

 

She had desperately wanted to escape the turmoil, which is why she’d asked Yan Muyu that question.

 

Yan Muyu said she didn’t love her, so there was no need to worry.

 

But something about it felt wrong to Xu Weishuang.

 

Still, they were no longer in a place where they could speak casually. She couldn’t ask, and there was no reason to keep probing.

 

Fortunately, there weren’t many scenes left. In a few days, Yan Muyu would leave the set.

 

But what Xu Weishuang didn’t expect was for Yan Muyu to leave even earlier.

 

Claiming poor sleep, Yan Muyu moved to a different hotel room. Her assistant and the logistics team knew about it, and word quickly reached Director Tao and the rest of the crew.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t know how to respond. When Luo Qin and Director Tao asked her about it, she simply replied coldly: that was the reason they were no longer sharing a room.

 

It was a flimsy excuse—nobody would believe it—but Yan Muyu had said it, so Xu Weishuang could only go along.

 

Yan Muyu didn’t even pack her things herself. The next day, her assistant came to collect them. By the time Xu Weishuang realized, there wasn’t a single trace of her left in the room.

 

She should’ve been glad. She didn’t want to be around Yan Muyu anyway.

 

But looking at the empty room, she felt a stabbing pain in her chest.

 

She wasn’t glad. The feeling was the same as when she’d seen Yan Muyu smoking alone by the window the night before. It felt like something was choking her.

 

When did Yan Muyu learn to smoke?

 

In the six years they were together, Xu Weishuang had never seen her light a cigarette.

 

Was it after the divorce?

 

Had Yan Muyu really developed the habit of carrying cigarettes in just half a year?

 

Xu Weishuang kept thinking about these things. She wanted to erase Yan Muyu from her mind, but couldn’t.

 

“Ms. Xu, we need to confirm something with you. This is the prop knife you’ll be using shortly.” A crew member came over, pulling her from her thoughts.

 

She looked up and slowly recognized the person—it was Xiao Gao, who had previously helped her with props. She nodded and shifted into work mode.

 

Filming continued. Without any more intimate scenes, even though their relationship had chilled completely, their acting skills carried the performance smoothly.

 

But people on set had noticed the tension between them. Rumors were flying.

 

Yan Muyu no longer pretended in front of others. After each scene, she left without a word. She remained polite to everyone—except Xu Weishuang, to whom she was cold and indifferent.

 

This was the first time she’d acted like this publicly. Xu Weishuang didn’t ask why—she already knew the answer.

 

So when Shi Yan called to suggest they begin faking tension or conflict between the two of them to justify a future breakup narrative, Xu Weishuang wasn’t surprised.

 

Yan Muyu wanted a clean break.

 

Xu Weishuang agreed, but as soon as she hung up, a sharp pain pierced her chest. A shadow fell over her expression, and she remained silent.

 

The heavy mood persisted in the days leading up to Yan Muyu’s wrap. Since neither of their PR teams denied the divorce, rumors spread like wildfire.

 

Then someone made a post.

 

It claimed that Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu’s marriage was a transaction—that Xu Weishuang had been Yan Muyu’s kept woman, a stand-in for Siyu, and their so-called love was all an illusion.

 

These rumors had surfaced before, but back then they were already married, and public opinion couldn’t shake it.

 

Now, with divorce in the air, the new post added “evidence”: Xu Weishuang had been doing well in her career—Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actress—until Yan Muyu allegedly pulled her out of the industry, helped her enter high society, and then replaced her with newcomer Xu Xia.

 

Skeptics noted Xu Xia resembled Siyu—a clear pattern.

 

The post suggested they had been divorced for a while and kept it secret to avoid backlash. Xu Weishuang, in exchange, got resources—variety shows, Director Tao’s film, Shi Yan’s support—all tied to Yan Muyu.

 

Now that she’d benefited, she gave up the “wife” title for a newcomer. Hence, neither side denied the divorce—it wasn’t a rumor, it was a deal.

 

The post was well-written, backed with timelines and resource charts. It quickly went viral.

 

Shi Yan moved to contain it immediately, but with Yan Muyu’s reputation at stake, the media had a field day.

 

Of course, not everyone believed it.

 

Some defended Yan Muyu. Others took the opportunity to stir the pot.

 

The entire crew was aware. With Yan Muyu’s cold treatment of Xu Weishuang now public, people couldn’t help but watch them closely.

 

Yan Muyu knew too. But she didn’t care—Shi Yan would handle it professionally.

 

She ignored the gossip during filming. Her attitude toward Xu Weishuang remained unchanged.

 

After shooting wrapped, they didn’t even ride back to the hotel together.

 

Xiao Shiyi, Xu Weishuang’s assistant, grew increasingly concerned. Xu Weishuang had always seemed aloof, but lately she looked weighed down by sorrow.

 

Shi Yan had instructed Xiao Shiyi not to bring up the rumors unless asked. If Xu Weishuang inquired, she could answer or direct her to Shi Yan—but otherwise, silence.

 

Xu Weishuang hadn’t asked a thing. Xiao Shiyi didn’t even know if she’d seen the news.

 

The online rumors grew more vicious. Yan Muyu had a good reputation, but even she couldn’t avoid backlash now.

 

Xu Weishuang got it worse. She’d already been accused of using connections, and now—claims of being a kept woman, pretending to be affectionate on-screen while divorced in reality—audiences felt deceived.

 

Xiao Shiyi saw how cold and distant they’d become. Aside from scenes, they didn’t talk at all.

 

But she didn’t believe they had already divorced. They weren’t always like this.

 

She remembered how, back on The Actress, Yan Muyu would always call Xu Weishuang over for a kiss before going on stage—they used to be inseparable.

 

Now, their relationship was in ruins.

 

“Ms. Xu…” Xiao Shiyi couldn’t help calling out as Xu Weishuang stepped into the elevator. But when Xu Weishuang turned around, she froze, not knowing what to say.

 

“…Please rest well,” she finally offered.

 

Xu Weishuang nodded coolly and walked out, not looking back.

 

She’d seen too many of those glances lately. Everyone had figured out that something was wrong between her and Yan Muyu.

 

Even though she didn’t browse much online during shoots, she’d seen some of it.

 

The post was malicious, yes—but it wasn’t entirely wrong.

 

She and Yan Muyu… where had there ever been real love?

 

Xu Weishuang returned to her room alone, closed the door, and didn’t turn on the light. She stood in the darkness for a long time.

 

She thought asking Yan Muyu that question would bring clarity. She thought keeping her distance would bring peace.

 

But the pain only grew deeper. Her heart felt shredded by emotions she didn’t understand.

 

What should she do? How could she be free of this?

 

She slumped onto the bed, utterly drained. Her expression, colder than ever, had lost all life. She closed her eyes, hoping time would stop—that nothing would bother her anymore.

 

She wasn’t trying to escape.

 

She just didn’t know what else to do.

 

Her whole life, she’d been afraid of making mistakes. And it seemed, over and over, she always had—losing her mother, losing Liu Yuebai, losing her job, disappointing everyone.

 

Xu Weishuang tried to move forward, but the shadows of the past clung to her relentlessly. It was as if countless voices screamed at her from all directions, feeding the uncontrollable desire she held for Yan Muyu, whispering that one day, she too would hurt Yan Muyu.

 

Just like Liu Yuebai.

 

Just like the time when Liu Yuebai, no longer able to stay calm, screamed at her with bloodshot eyes, saying they should die together—tormenting her in a fit of emotional collapse.

 

She and Liu Yuebai had been like patients who couldn’t save each other. The same was true for her and Yan Muyu.

 

Xu Weishuang took a deep breath, feeling as if those voices were delivering her sentence.

 

Voices?

 

Xu Weishuang suddenly paused.

 

Her mind was in chaos, but she had indeed heard a strange noise.

 

Just now, buried under the blanket, she’d heard a faint, hissing sound from underneath her.

 

It was extremely subtle, but Xu Weishuang had definitely heard it.

 

Her heart plummeted. She immediately climbed off the bed.

 

She turned on the light and threw back the covers—nothing on the bed. Then the sound had to have come from…under the bed.

 

Just the thought of that possibility made Xu Weishuang’s face turn pale, her hair standing on end. She didn’t dare check and immediately stepped backward, trying to leave the room.

 

But in her panic, she bumped into a nearby chair, making a loud noise. In the stillness of the room, it sounded jarringly loud, and Xu Weishuang flinched instinctively.

 

As she tried to steady the chair and cover her mistake, an even more disturbing sound came from beneath the bed.

 

Something was coming out!

 

Xu Weishuang held her breath, glancing instinctively toward the source of the sound while scrambling for the door.

 

In the light, a human head suddenly emerged from beneath the bed.

 

Even though she had anticipated something, seeing an actual human head appear startled Xu Weishuang so badly she nearly screamed.

 

The person crawled out from under the bed, their sinister gaze made even more eerie by the light.

 

Xu Weishuang held her breath and stared at them as they stood up and walked toward her—she surprisingly found herself calming down.

 

She was still a distance from the door, so instead of bolting, she slowly backed away while scanning her surroundings for anything to use as a weapon.

 

The person was not tall, and looked familiar. Xu Weishuang stared for a moment before realizing who it was.

 

It was Xiao Gao from the props team. Xu Weishuang had spoken with her a few times before, confirming props during work.

 

She hadn’t expected it to be someone from the crew—and that shocked her even more.

 

She didn’t relax just because it was someone she knew. After all, Xiao Gao had hidden under her bed and was now staring at her with such a creepy expression. If anything, being a familiar face made the act feel more premeditated. Xu Weishuang hadn’t noticed any signs of forced entry earlier when she opened the door.

 

There were cameras in the hotel hallway. If Xiao Gao had acted suspiciously, security would’ve already noticed. It was likely she had swiped in or unlocked the door—being from the crew, she could’ve easily found a way in.

 

Xu Weishuang pressed her lips into a tight line. When she noticed a fruit knife in Xiao Gao’s hand, a chill ran through her bl00d.

 

“Don’t move another step,” Xiao Gao suddenly shrieked when she noticed Xu Weishuang inching closer to the door. Her voice was sharp and jarring.

 

Startled, Xu Weishuang froze, not daring to provoke her further.

 

But she wasn’t about to stand there waiting to be attacked. She clenched her fingers, using the pain to stay calm and think fast.

 

She kept her face cold and emotionless as she asked, “Why are you here?”

 

Her voice, like her demeanor, was cool and even, rarely showing emotion. Only when facing Yan Muyu did she display more feeling, but even now, her tone remained more composed than most people’s.

 

“Shut up! Shut up!” Xiao Gao snapped, her face twisting in fury. She looked deranged, clearly mentally unstable.

 

“It’s all your fault! She was scolded to death—it’s all your fault! You ruined her reputation! She’s been so unhappy lately—all because of you!” Her words were jumbled and incoherent, emotions spilling out in a frenzy. Xu Weishuang couldn’t understand much and quickly gave up on trying to reason with her.

 

This wasn’t Xu Weishuang’s first time dealing with someone like this. Liu Yuebai had been the same when in crisis, though perhaps not as extreme—and Liu Yuebai often fought hard to stay in control.

 

Xiao Gao, however, held a knife. This was far more dangerous.

 

Xu Weishuang tensed every muscle, unwilling to go down without a fight.

 

She began moving toward the door again. Xiao Gao immediately noticed and became even more hysterical, shrieking as she charged at Xu Weishuang with the knife.

 

At that moment, Xu Weishuang could barely breathe. She grabbed whatever she could nearby and hurled it at Xiao Gao.

 

She silently thanked the action scenes in the drama—they’d made the director put her through fight training and physical conditioning. Now that strength was her only defense.

 

Xiao Gao was shorter and no stronger than her. In her madness, she lacked clear judgment. Seeing Xu Weishuang close to the door, she panicked, thinking Xu Weishuang was going to escape, and rushed forward.

 

Xu Weishuang remained calm. Xiao Gao was very close now. If she turned to open the door, she would expose her back—and the knife was still a threat. She couldn’t take that risk.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a decorative stone statue on the shoe cabinet near the door. Just as Xiao Gao lunged, Xu Weishuang grabbed it and smashed it hard against Xiao Gao’s head.

 

Xiao Gao didn’t expect a counterattack and couldn’t dodge. The statue hit her directly.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t hold back. The blow landed near Xiao Gao’s eye. Instinctive pain and fear caused her to scream and clutch her face.

 

This was the moment Xu Weishuang had been waiting for. She flung open the door and sprinted down the hallway toward the security camera, waving her arms for help.

 

Hotel security noticed her distress from the monitors and rushed to the scene.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t know Xiao Gao’s condition and didn’t wait. She took the emergency stairs and moved to another floor before finally stopping, ensuring she wasn’t being followed.

 

Security staff eventually reached her.

 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Should we call the police?” a female guard asked as she supported her.

 

It was only then that Xu Weishuang realized her legs had gone weak.

 

Because Xiao Gao was part of the crew, and because she hadn’t followed her, Xu Weishuang frowned, a bad feeling rising.

 

“Room 310, 8th floor—someone may be seriously hurt,” she reported. She’d hit with full force and used what she learned in martial arts—the statue had landed at close range. She was worried Xiao Gao might be seriously injured.

 

“She had a knife,” she added quickly as the guard radioed for backup.

 

The guard nodded gravely.

 

She recognized Xu Weishuang—plenty of celebrities were part of this production. At first unfamiliar, a quick search online had made everyone recognizable.

 

“Please inform the others,” Xu Weishuang said after regaining some composure.

 

Though her heart still pounded, Xiao Gao’s condition remained uncertain. Once everyone arrived, she would have to explain everything. Whether to call the police, how the crew would handle it—she needed to stay sharp.

 

Standing tall again, she followed the guard back upstairs. A small crowd had already gathered outside her room.

 

Xiao Shiyi arrived first—she was staying just one floor down. Xu Weishuang immediately noticed the worry etched into her face, the first time she’d seen her so anxious.

 

Xu Weishuang hurried over. Xiao Shiyi hesitated before grasping her hand tightly—only for a second, remembering Xu Weishuang didn’t like physical contact, and quickly let go.

 

Director Tao and Luo Qin soon arrived, followed by other crew members—including Yan Muyu.

 

As soon as Yan Muyu appeared, Xu Weishuang saw her at once. Yan Muyu always drew attention—wherever she stood, others faded.

 

Xu Weishuang’s calm cracked the moment she saw her. She stared at Yan Muyu’s face, which carried no trace of a smile.

 

Everyone could feel it—Yan Muyu was furious.

 

Normally she was gentle, elegant, polite—always poised. People called her the perfect goddess, high in status, hard to approach.

 

But after getting to know her, the distance would fade.

 

Not now. Now her aura was sharp and overwhelming.

 

She walked up to Xu Weishuang and locked her gaze on her.

 

Xu Weishuang wasn’t afraid—she’d seen worse. What surprised her was how openly furious Yan Muyu was in front of everyone.

 

“Injured?” Yan Muyu’s eyes fixed on Xu Weishuang’s elbow, where bl00d had stained her sleeve. Yan Muyu’s breath caught.

 

Xu Weishuang hesitated, finally raising her arm. In her state of tension, she hadn’t felt the pain—but now she noticed the cut, likely from the statue or something sharp.

 

She frowned and instinctively reached to touch the wound—but Yan Muyu stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch it!”

 

Yan Muyu’s lips pressed tight, fury flooding her brows. Looking at Xu Weishuang’s pale face, the anger had nowhere to go.

 

“You need to go to the hospital.” She held Xu Weishuang’s wrist, lowering her arm—but didn’t let go.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t reply.

 

They were already divorcing. Shi Yan had even leaked the news.

 

They had no ties anymore. Why did Yan Muyu look so worried?

 

The pain and love in her eyes overflowed with each glance—impossible to ignore.

 

Didn’t Yan Muyu realize?

 

Xu Weishuang turned her head, refusing to look at her. But she didn’t pull her hand back either, letting the warmth of Yan Muyu’s skin seep into hers.

 

Police and paramedics soon arrived. Security had checked the room—Xiao Gao was badly hurt, unconscious, bleeding heavily. They called it in immediately.

 

There was no hiding this. Because of their high-profile divorce drama, paparazzi had been on them constantly. The flashing sirens drew their attention, and they rushed to capture breaking news.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t care. She got in the ambulance, treated her wound, then went to the police station to give her statement.

 

Yan Muyu followed her throughout—but when Xu Weishuang was taken by medics, she let go of her hand.

 

Xu Weishuang blinked. She noticed the deliberate release.

 

Yan Muyu still followed, but kept her distance.

 

Xu Weishuang couldn’t ignore her—but couldn’t ask her to stay close either.

 

She handled everything—calm, composed, not looking like someone who’d just faced life and death.

 

Perhaps news had already spread—gossip moved fast, and even though Yan Muyu had called Shi Yan to suppress it, it was too late.

 

Even Liu Yuebai had found out. She called, nervously asking if Xu Weishuang was okay.

 

Liu Yuebai had always been the protector—her words full of love, always trying to do everything for Xu Weishuang.

 

Suddenly reminded of their past, Xu Weishuang softened her tone and reassured her that she was fine.

 

She truly was calm—even Xiao Shiyi looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to stay so composed.

 

Xu Weishuang had always been like this—chaotic in love, but decisive in action.

 

She had forcibly kept Liu Yuebai, married Yan Muyu, returned to acting, and divorced Yan Muyu.

 

Once she decided on something, no one could stop her.

 

Everyone was surprised by her calm—everyone but Yan Muyu, who never doubted her choices.

 

Yan Muyu didn’t try to comfort her—she came with blazing rage and worry, but never once seemed surprised by Xu Weishuang’s composure.

 

Xu Weishuang suddenly remembered something Yan Muyu had once said:

 

“You’re never obedient.”

 

Back then, she hadn’t understood what Yan Muyu meant by “disobedient.” Now she did—Yan Muyu had always known she wasn’t the kind to be tamed.

 

Xu Weishuang stopped breathing for a moment.

 

She knew Yan Muyu’s obsessive need for control, her love for obedience.

 

Their six-year relationship—marriage, everything—had been built on mutual need. Yan Muyu’s need was for Xu Weishuang to be docile and pliant.

 

But if she was never obedient…

 

Then why had Yan Muyu gone so far, losing all control, just to keep her?