The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Senior Li eventually agreed to the matter.

Coincidentally, the preparations for this web drama were almost complete. The female lead had already been cast, and Xu Weishuang was playing a love-hate supporting antagonist.

These days, short videos are everywhere, and web dramas edited into short clips have quickly become a part of everyday life.

Senior Li had done her research—funny, bossy CEO-style dramas featuring same-s3x couples were the ones that really went viral. As long as the two leads were attractive, making money wasn’t a problem.

This time, she cast a very popular CP (couple pairing) from the web drama circle and tailored the script specifically for them.

For Xu Weishuang, who had been out of the industry for a long time and wasn’t even that famous back then, this villain role was already a great opportunity. Still, when she received the script, she was speechless for a while at the absurdity of the plot.

The story begins thousands of years ago, when a koi spirit was caught by a fisherman. Back then, the villagers weren’t afraid of half-transformed koi spirits. In fact, rumors spread that they were full of treasures and could fetch a high price if sold to rich families.

The koi spirit, Xiaobai, was curious about the world on land and was immediately captured by a fisherman and sold to a wealthy family in the city.

Luckily, that family was relatively kind-hearted. The rumor described the koi spirit more like a medicinal herb, not resembling a person at all—they thought it would look like a ginseng root or something.

To their surprise, the little koi spirit had a half-golden fish tail and a human-like upper body.

She couldn’t speak and couldn’t survive without water.

The family pitied her and considered setting her free. But their ten-year-old daughter insisted on befriending the koi spirit.

They doted on their daughter, and since she was so insistent, the idea of releasing the koi was shelved.

Unexpectedly, the rich girl really did become friends with the koi spirit. She even had a luxurious pool built for her and stopped playing with her human friends, spending every day by the pool with Xiaobai.

Her family thought it was just a phase. But ten years passed, and the young girl blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Many came to propose marriage, yet she stayed by the koi spirit’s side.

Her family began to suspect that the koi had bewitched their daughter. When she said she never wanted to marry and would rather stay home forever, they were convinced the koi had used some kind of sorcery.

So, they tricked the girl and threw the koi back into the river.

They thought once back in the river, she would be gone for good. But the koi spirit had also fallen in love. She refused to leave, waiting by the riverbank every day for the girl to find her.

But to others, she was still seen as a valuable commodity. Soon, she was caught again—and this time, there was no kind family.

Her skin was used for medicine, her bl00d to nourish lungs, her bones to strengthen vitality, and her heart to prolong life.

When the rich girl finally found her, the koi had already been butchered, leaving behind only a pile of golden fish scales tossed into a dirty cesspool.

Devastated, the girl ended her life as well.

Up until this point, the script was still fairly normal—a tragic supernatural romance. But short web dramas need to be funny and attention-grabbing, so something so heavy wouldn’t work.

Plus, historical dramas are hard to shoot.

So, the real story begins thousands of years later in modern times, where the koi spirit is reincarnated… still as a koi spirit.

Now, with advanced technology and more enlightened human minds, even demons enjoy a better era.

There are machines that help young demons transform into human forms. With enough money, they can skip cultivation entirely—instant transformation, painless and side-effect free.

The rich girl, having died with resentment, became a vengeful ghost. She reincarnated quickly, fueled by her grudge.

The koi spirit, using technology to take human form, lives among humans without any magical powers, completely unaware that her boss at the jewelry company she works for is the reincarnated girl—who now uses the company to feed off humans.

When she sees the koi spirit’s fish-scale jewelry, she becomes intrigued. After a series of events, she realizes that this is the koi from her past.

You’d think they would live happily ever after, but no—Xu Weishuang’s character enters the story as the villain who wants to exorcise the ghost girl.

And not only that—her motivations are twisted. She secretly has a crush on the koi spirit and wants to exorcise the ghost out of jealousy.

Even more bizarrely, despite the ghost girl causing havoc for years, no one has tried to stop her—until she wants to turn over a new leaf and reunite with the koi spirit. That’s when the villain appears.

Xu Weishuang didn’t know what to make of the script, but she had already agreed to it and didn’t intend to back out.

A week later, filming began. When Xu Weishuang arrived on set, she felt a little out of place—it had been years since she’d been in an environment like this.

And it was understandable. She came alone, without even an assistant. The director sent someone to meet her, and she followed them to the makeup room, still unsure what she was supposed to do.

Fortunately, one of the lead actresses recognized her immediately and excitedly pulled her over to chat.

“You’re Xu Weishuang, right?!”

This person was Shan Keke, with silver-gray wavy long hair, bright eyes, perfect teeth, and a warm smile that naturally made people want to be close.

Xu Weishuang had looked up the two leads beforehand. They had worked together several times and marketed themselves as an onscreen and offscreen couple, with a dynamic of “cool older sister and playful puppy.” Fans were obsessed.

And now Shan Keke was acting just like the bubbly puppy she portrayed. She leaned close to Xu Weishuang, her tone sweet and endearing, like a big dog eager for attention.

Xu Weishuang pursed her lips silently, not used to such close contact from a stranger, and subtly stepped back.

But her cool appearance and quiet eyes often gave people the impression that she was intentionally aloof and hard to approach.

She realized this as she stepped away, hesitating for just a second before still choosing to create distance.

She had spent years trying to please “that person” and now focused all her energy on pleasing Yan Muyu. She was exhausted and had no strength left for others.

Shan Keke’s public persona was a clingy, sunshine-y puppy who adored her “sister” and co-star Guan Shuxin. Fans loved it.

But in reality, Shan Keke had grown up in a single-parent household, forced to mature early. She was observant and sensitive.

She noticed Xu Weishuang’s subtle discomfort and hesitation.

She was a die-hard fan of Yan Muyu. Though many Yan Muyu fans once disliked Xu Weishuang, even accusing her of using tricks to win Yan Muyu over—

But it had been six years of marriage without divorce. Since their wedding, Xu Weishuang had stayed out of the limelight, and Shan Keke chose to believe their love was real.

Besides, Xu Weishuang was stunning.

A flawlessly beautiful face, cool and serene aura—truly one of a kind in the entertainment world.

Shan Keke had watched her debut film and had been deeply moved by her pure, innocent performance in the first half and the explosive emotional delivery in the latter half.

She could understand why a “drama fanatic” like Yan Muyu would fall for someone like Xu Weishuang. A complete newbie who won Best Supporting Actress—it was clear she had talent.

Now, loving Yan Muyu meant loving everything about her—including Xu Weishuang.

Seeing her discomfort, Shan Keke stepped back a little but kept the distance just close enough to show friendly intent.

“Xu-jie, I watched your old drama back in the day. I loved it so much—it made me cry like crazy,” she said sincerely, with genuine admiration that warmed the heart.

As the saying goes, it’s hard to be cold to someone who smiles at you.

Xu Weishuang blinked, her tone softening as she responded, “Thank you for liking it.”

She barely remembered filming that movie—but it was surprising that someone still did.

“Keke’s always calling people ‘jie’ (big sister) like that,” the makeup artist teased from the side.

Shan Keke and Guan Shuxin were known as an inseparable CP. They were always together, both at work and in private, so the crew often joked about their “relationship.”

“Don’t let Xiao Shu know, okay? She’s super jealous—she’ll torture me on set later!” Shan Keke quickly joked back, as if truly afraid her “girlfriend” would find out. It was all very couple-like.

The makeup artist laughed and promised to keep the secret.

“You’re here for costume photos too, right?” Shan Keke turned her attention back to Xu Weishuang, who nodded—her manager Li Yun had told her as much.

“No makeup artist?” Shan Keke seemed to notice her confusion and quickly volunteered, “I’ll ask my assistant to help you check.”

She sent her assistant out, and not long after, Li Yun came in person to arrange things.

After makeup and costume, the two leads had their photos taken first. By the time it was Xu Weishuang’s turn, it was nearly 8 p.m.

She stood quietly by, watching as Li Yun, once a mediocre actress, now directed with real skill.

When it was finally her turn, someone called her over—but her phone suddenly rang.

There weren’t many people in her contacts, and even fewer who ever called.

Her steps paused as she took out her phone.

It was Yan Muyu.

Xu Weishuang was a little surprised.

They usually only talked at fixed times. Yan Muyu rarely called first.

She picked up, holding the phone to her ear. A familiar voice came through.

“Where are you?”

Yan Muyu’s voice was gentle, seemingly full of concern. Xu Weishuang pressed her lips together and replied, “On set.”

“Which set? You’re acting again? Why so suddenly?” Her voice sounded surprised, tone slightly raised.

“I’m at home now,” she added quickly before Xu Weishuang could respond.

Listening to her speak, Xu Weishuang knew her too well—perhaps better than Yan Muyu realized.

That intentionally gentle voice wasn’t even a proper disguise. She was at home, and with Xu Weishuang, so her sweet mask had slipped.

Maybe she was just used to Xu Weishuang’s six years of obedience. Her tone now carried a trace of annoyance.

Xu Weishuang saw people ahead gesturing for her to hurry, lowered her eyes, and calmly asked, “Do you need me to come home now?”

Silence fell on the other end of the line. But Xu Weishuang knew she was still there.

After a long pause, Yan Muyu finally spoke again. Her voice had regained its usual calm and warmth, as if her earlier tone had never existed.

“No need. I won’t be home tonight. Xiaoshuang, focus on filming. Call me when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay.” Xu Weishuang’s eyes drifted forward, her voice faint.

She hung up and walked quickly toward the set.