The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 45

Chapter 45

 

“You loved me. You weren’t lying back then.”

 

When Yan Muyu suddenly heard those words, her emotions were already stirred, and Xu Weishuang’s sudden statement struck her without warning.

 

Yan Muyu didn’t know how Xu Weishuang had connected this current moment to that conversation in the past. But once Xu Weishuang said it, it clenched Yan Muyu’s heart tightly. All her emotions froze in place.

 

Back then, Yan Muyu had tried to use that love to hold Xu Weishuang back, to make her stay.

 

But she had gambled wrong, and ended up pushing Xu Weishuang away completely.

 

Now, what meaning could that love possibly hold?

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t love her at all. Aside from some physical dependence, there was nothing left between them.

 

And even that pathetic dependence was something Xu Weishuang was trying hard to get rid of.

 

So why would Xu Weishuang suddenly bring this up? Why mention it now?

 

Unless—Xu Weishuang had never believed her before.

 

Yan Muyu abruptly took a step back, eyes wide with shock, staring at Xu Weishuang’s expression.

 

As expected, Xu Weishuang looked as if she had just now realized that Yan Muyu had loved her all along—her face full of undisguised surprise.

 

Xu Weishuang had never believed her.

 

Yan Muyu clenched her fists in disbelief. She had always thought Xu Weishuang just didn’t love her, had never loved her.

 

She thought it was simply a matter of feelings.

 

That night, she had laid herself bare before Xu Weishuang, stripped away all her defenses, revealed everything.

 

Xu Weishuang had said, “People like them are sick. They’ll never truly fall in love.”

 

Yan Muyu had thought Xu Weishuang simply didn’t return her feelings. But now she realized Xu Weishuang hadn’t even believed her love was real.

 

Yan Muyu’s mind suddenly felt heavy, like an old machine stuck in place, unable to turn properly.

 

She bit the tip of her tongue on instinct, trying to use the pain to snap herself awake.

 

But once she was awake, everything around her was just more painful.

 

The world around her seemed to change colors in an instant, becoming pitch black, like a dimly lit room—leaving Yan Muyu unable to see anything clearly.

 

She should have known—Xu Weishuang didn’t trust her and didn’t love her. These two truths together made it even harder for her to accept.

 

All this time, how had she appeared in Xu Weishuang’s eyes?

 

All the self-pity and the involuntary concern—did Xu Weishuang find it all just laughable?

 

Was that why she kept avoiding her, why she always looked so troubled whenever she saw her?

 

“Yan Muyu.” Xu Weishuang finally spoke, her voice filled with joy.

 

Yan Muyu had loved her.

 

Just thinking about that filled her heart with uncontrollable happiness.

 

She had seen Yan Muyu retreat in panic, but the surge of emotion in her chest left her no time to analyze what Yan Muyu might be feeling.

 

She only instinctively felt something was wrong and immediately called her name.

 

But Yan Muyu said nothing in response.

 

She had lived wearing masks, survived the Yan family with deception and pretense burned into her bones. It wasn’t Xu Weishuang’s fault—there may have been no more truth left in Yan Muyu at all.

 

It had all become instinct.

 

Now, she looked up and smiled at Xu Weishuang.

 

It was the smile she had practiced countless times: gentle, elegant, pleasing. Every curve of her lips perfect.

 

But in her eyes, there was no longer any affection.

 

She was just smiling—empty and soundless.

 

She said, “We’ve never been in love. And we never will be.”

 

Those were the words Xu Weishuang had once said. Now, Yan Muyu was saying them back to her.

 

So there’s no misunderstanding. She never loved her. Everything she ever said was a lie.

 

There was no need for Xu Weishuang to be troubled by those old lies.

 

Yan Muyu kept stepping back, wanting to retreat to a place where she was alone, holding onto the last shred of dignity, not wanting to hear any more rejection.

 

But Xu Weishuang, caught up in the realization that Yan Muyu had loved her, was flooded with overwhelming emotion.

 

She could hardly even hear what Yan Muyu was saying—if she did hear, she couldn’t process it.

 

Yan Muyu had just repeated her old words: “We’ll never love each other.” But now, Xu Weishuang had fallen in love with Yan Muyu, and Yan Muyu had loved her long before.

 

She couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out to take Yan Muyu’s hand. Once she did, she started to panic, unsure of what to do.

 

She stared into Yan Muyu’s eyes, elated.

 

Her heart was full of sunshine—completely immersed in this joyful revelation. She gripped Yan Muyu’s hand tightly, as if the contact could pass her emotions to the other woman.

 

But Yan Muyu was only confused by her behavior.

 

She couldn’t understand why Xu Weishuang was getting close to her like this, why her eyes were suddenly so full of passion.

 

Xu Weishuang had always been cold, except when acting or in moments of intimacy. Her eyes were always indifferent, as if she were disconnected from the world.

 

Never like now—burning with joy, as if they were on fire.

 

Yan Muyu couldn’t understand.

 

Could the fact that she had loved Xu Weishuang make her this happy?

 

A desire suddenly rose in her heart. She wanted to know the reason behind that joy.

 

But she only wondered for a moment—then didn’t dare to think any further.

 

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted them.

 

Yan Muyu immediately snapped back to reality. They were still filming the show. They had taken off their microphones and stayed in the bedroom for too long.

 

“Come out and eat. What are you two doing in there? Don’t stay inside too long.” Director Tao’s voice called from outside the door.

 

Yan Muyu quickly pulled her hand away from Xu Weishuang. Xu Weishuang paused, and only came back to herself after hearing Yan Muyu respond to the director.

 

“Let’s go out,” Yan Muyu said, handing Xu Weishuang the microphone she had removed, gesturing for her to put it back on.

 

Xu Weishuang realized what was going on too. Their behavior must have worried the production team.

 

If it weren’t for the fact that this was Yan Muyu, someone with influence, the crew probably would’ve interrupted long ago.

 

Director Tao must have been sent after the team had run out of patience with them staying inside so long.

 

Yan Muyu opened the door, and Director Tao was standing right outside, glancing at them both with a knowing look.

 

With someone else present, the heat in Xu Weishuang’s eyes disappeared completely. Her expression returned to its usual coolness.

 

Director Tao didn’t see anything out of the ordinary on their faces. As Yan Muyu approached, he gave a subtle smile and whispered, “So even you have moments like this.”

 

Moments that were imperfect, undignified, impulsive—driven by Xu Weishuang to lose her usual control, even in front of the cameras.

 

When the crew had asked Director Tao to interrupt them, he had been shocked.

 

Only after seeing the slight red tinge at the corner of Yan Muyu’s eyes did he finally believe it.

 

It was indeed surprising.

 

Yan Muyu felt a bit helpless at his comment—he said it like a whisper, but the microphones would’ve picked it up.

 

She glanced at his amused gaze and gave a gentle smile. “Affairs of the heart are always like this. It’s nothing.”

 

Then she remembered something and tilted her head slightly, her voice taking on a warning tone: “But this part will be cut, right?”

 

She’d need to talk to Shi Yan later. Thankfully, this wasn’t a live broadcast.

 

If it had been, Yan Muyu wouldn’t have allowed herself to lose control like that.

 

Back in the courtyard, the head director finally breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing them come out and quickly sent staff to reattach their mics.

 

She also heard Yan Muyu’s warning and wouldn’t dare to air that footage.

 

Clearly, even the gentlest person—once they’re at the top—was not someone you could afford to cross.

 

The rest of the evening passed with the group chatting and relaxing. Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu had no more time alone.

 

The next day, filming ended. Both had work and flew to different destinations.

 

Time helped them cool down.

 

Yan Muyu began to nervously wonder about the joy she had seen in Xu Weishuang’s eyes—but no matter how she guessed, she didn’t dare to hope.

 

She knew clearly—they were already divorced.

 

That was their reality. Their ending.

 

And Xu Weishuang, whose mind had been clouded by joy, now watched as Yan Muyu walked away.

 

Only now did she fully register Yan Muyu’s words. Back then, she couldn’t think straight. Now she could. She remembered what they had said that night.

 

And she finally understood her feelings completely.

 

She had once said to Yan Muyu: “We’re both sick.”

 

It had been true.

 

Even back then, she had cared about Yan Muyu. She hadn’t understood it at the time, but she had instinctively feared what might happen if they ended up like Liu Yuebai.

 

Her love always seemed cursed—her mother, Liu Yuebai…

 

She feared that future, feared that Yan Muyu would end up the same.

 

They parted ways at the foot of the mountain. Didn’t even finish their goodbyes—work rushed them off in different directions.

 

Xu Weishuang clearly saw Yan Muyu’s retreating figure. Her heart ached with sudden sorrow, and she had an urge to call out to her.

 

She suddenly wanted to hug her, feel her warmth again, imprint that unfamiliar fragrance deep in her memory.

 

But she didn’t move.

 

“Teacher Xu, we need to go,” Assistant Shi called.

 

She snapped out of it, the light in her eyes dimming as Yan Muyu walked away.

 

Shi glanced at her, suddenly feeling like Xu Weishuang was colder than before, as if a layer of frost had settled over her face—her gaze sharp and emotionless.

 

Her boss’s moods really did change quickly. She had seemed fine just moments ago.

 

But Shi didn’t dwell on it. After all, Xu Weishuang had never confided in her before—why would she now?

 

…

 

In the days that followed, Xu Weishuang kept busy with work. She and Yan Muyu didn’t meet or speak again.

 

Xu Weishuang’s schedule soon returned to normal. Though the variety show buzz faded, she had a drama with Director Tao waiting to air. That would bring a fresh wave of attention.

 

“You have five days off after today,” Shi Yan said after accompanying her to an event. She’d been staying close lately, as Xu Weishuang still wasn’t familiar with industry politics and could easily say the wrong thing.

 

Besides, Yan Muyu had joined a new production, with a full team of pros around her. Shi didn’t need to shadow her anymore.

 

“Five days?” Xu Weishuang responded softly while tidying up her things backstage.

 

“Get some proper rest. It’s been a tiring stretch lately,” Shi Yan said.

 

Shi Yan was quite satisfied with Xu Weishuang’s performance so far. She was obedient and never questioned her work—if told to learn something, she learned it without resistance, unlike some celebrities who just went through the motions.

 

Their schedule had been packed for a long time, and even Shi Yan herself was exhausted from keeping up, yet she had never heard a single complaint from Xu Weishuang.

 

“By the way, I’ll send you a few scripts later. You can pick the ones you like and go for auditions. If none of them appeal to you, that’s fine too. Once Director Tao’s series airs, more scripts will come your way.”

 

Shi Yan saw her off at the airport. Xu Weishuang had said she was going home. Shi Yan couldn’t immediately recall where “home” was—after Xu’s divorce from Yan Muyu, she hadn’t bought a new place. During this hectic time, she’d been staying in hotels.

 

It was only after watching her pass through security that Shi Yan remembered—Xu still had a sister. “Going home” most likely meant going to Liu Yuebai’s place.

 

And indeed, Xu Weishuang was heading home—and yes, Liu Yuebai was there.

 

She didn’t even bring Xiao Shiyi with her. She went back alone.

 

The keys had been given to her by Liu Yuebai. When she opened the door, everything inside looked the same as last time. Only a few of their mother’s photos had been taken down. On one wall, there was still a collage of pictures of the three of them as a family, lovingly arranged and decorated by Liu Yuebai to give a warm, cozy feeling.

 

“You’re back already? I haven’t even finished cooking yet,” Liu Yuebai called from the kitchen when she heard the door open, a spatula in hand.

 

She had cut her hair—what used to be medium-length now barely reached her neck, softly curled. Xu Weishuang thought she looked more mature and put together.

 

Xu changed her shoes, set her luggage down, and didn’t respond to Liu Yuebai’s greeting.

 

Liu Yuebai was used to that. She shook her head with a smile and asked, “What do you think of my new hairstyle?”

 

Xu Weishuang still wasn’t used to being this close with Liu Yuebai. She pursed her lips and, after a long pause, finally managed to say, “It’s nice.”

 

Liu Yuebai chuckled. Xu, feeling awkward, quickly retreated to the bedroom to change into comfortable loungewear.

 

When she came back out, Liu Yuebai was already busy in the kitchen again.

 

Xu Weishuang walked to the kitchen entrance and glanced around. “Do you need help?”

 

“You know how to cook now?” Liu Yuebai asked, surprised.

 

Naturally, she didn’t.

 

Xu shook her head honestly.

 

Back when their mother was alive, neither of them cooked. Then, after marrying Yan Muyu, Xu had even less reason to learn. But now Liu Yuebai could cook.

 

Back in school, even her instant noodles tasted awful. Watching her now move about the kitchen with ease, Xu Weishuang thought—both of them had changed a lot over the years.

 

“Go wash the dishes. Food’s almost ready.” Knowing Xu wouldn’t be much help otherwise, Liu gave her a simple task.

 

Xu obediently followed instructions, still quiet and withdrawn. Liu glanced at her and lowered her gaze slightly.

 

During dinner, Xu still didn’t say much—it was Liu Yuebai who carried most of the conversation. The food was delicious. Xu didn’t know if Liu had learned those recipes on purpose, but some dishes tasted just like their mother’s cooking.

 

When Liu had called and asked her to come home if she had time, Xu hadn’t really wanted to agree.

 

Though they’d mended some of the distance between them, they hadn’t lived together in six years, and Xu didn’t know how to navigate things anymore.

 

But thinking of their mother and the idea of family, Xu couldn’t bring herself to say no.

 

Because if she refused, then perhaps they really would remain nothing more than legal sisters.

 

She could still remember their mother’s dying face, covered in bl00d, gripping her hand and pleading with her to get along with Liu Yuebai.

 

Xu feared hurting Liu again and tried to keep her distance. But part of her hoped—maybe the Liu Yuebai of today wouldn’t be hurt so easily anymore.

 

So in the end, Xu came back.

 

After dinner, Liu Yuebai told her she wanted to take her somewhere in the afternoon.

 

Xu didn’t have much expectation about the destination. She actually just wanted to rest—she was truly exhausted from all the recent work. But since Liu had already mentioned it, she didn’t want to decline.

 

Liu drove them to a cat café in a shopping district. Before they left, she gave Xu a once-over and frowned. “Maybe you should wear a hat, just in case someone recognizes you.”

 

Xu was already in disguise, but if Liu said it wasn’t enough, she listened and put on a hat as well.

 

When they entered, there were a few other customers, and the staff greeted them warmly: “Welcome! Please wash your hands and put on shoe covers first.”

 

Both wore sunglasses, and Xu also had a hat and mask on, drawing some extra glances.

 

“I’m here to see Shen Li,” Liu Yuebai said casually while washing her hands.

 

“You’re here for the owner?” the staff asked, surprised. But since Liu knew the owner’s name, she probably wasn’t bluffing. The staff went to fetch her.

 

Shen Li was making drinks at the front counter. Hearing her name, she looked up and immediately recognized Liu Yuebai.

 

“You have time to come by?” Shen Li rushed over, greeting Liu with enthusiasm. Knowing her special status, she led them into a private room.

 

“Brought my little sister to hang out,” Liu said, pulling Xu along.

 

“Sister?” Shen Li didn’t get it at first—then it hit her. Liu Yuebai’s sister was…

 

“!!!”

 

Once inside, Shen Li quickly shut the door. When she turned around, her voice was barely under control. “Xu Weishuang?!”

 

She was a fan of Yan Muyu. Recently, she had become obsessed with the short film featuring Yan and Xu in The Actress Within. Though news of their divorce followed soon after, that didn’t matter—angst made it even better. She loved those painful, tragic aesthetics.

 

Now in person, Xu took off her mask and sunglasses. When Shen Li heard her voice, she bowed her head slightly in greeting.

 

“Goddess…” Shen Li covered her face, her eyes glued to Xu Weishuang.

 

When she was into Yan Muyu, she’d thought she was the most beautiful actress in the industry. But then Xu stood next to her—cold and gentle side-by-side, a feast for the eyes.

 

Of course she became a CP fan.

 

“Nice to meet you, I’m a fan,” Shen Li said, grinning like an auntie and even using formal language with someone younger than her.

 

“Nice to meet you. Thank you for your support,” Xu replied politely.

 

She had been trained by Shi Yan—never ignore a fan, even if you don’t smile. Always respond at least verbally.

 

Though Xu was still not used to the interaction, she had become fluent in this kind of polite exchange.

 

“Alright, enough fangirling,” Liu interrupted, sensing Xu’s discomfort. “I’m here to see Nian Nian. Heard she’s been sick.”

 

She then introduced Shen Li: “We met when I was getting treatment overseas. Her cat helped me a lot emotionally, and she introduced me to an animal therapy hospital. Later, she came back to open a cat café, and I invested.”

 

Liu spoke about her treatment days with ease. Xu, hearing “treatment overseas,” felt her chest tighten.

 

“How could it be the cat’s doing?” Shen Li smiled. “You were the one who wanted to heal.”

 

She’d gotten to know Liu quite well. At first, Liu was guarded, but they’d grown closer through the cat. Liu had eventually confided a bit of her past.

 

Shen Li thought the person Liu was healing for must have been someone she loved deeply.

 

Turns out it was her sister.

 

Since Xu and Liu’s familial relationship was public, and Xu was Yan Muyu’s ex-wife, Shen Li never suspected anything beyond that.

 

“I’ll bring Nian Nian. Poor thing hasn’t been doing well—maybe seeing you will lift her spirits. Do you want anything to drink?”

 

“Coffee,” Liu and Xu replied.

 

“Nian Nian was the cat who helped me during recovery,” Liu explained once Shen Li left. “She’s old now and sick again. I heard and wanted to visit. I know you’ve never shown much interest in animals—will this bore you?”

 

Xu shook her head. Watching Liu with friends, owning part of a cat café, smiling as she petted kittens earlier—it was all beautiful.

 

Liu Yuebai seemed genuinely happy.

 

And that made Xu feel a sudden pang of sorrow.

 

More than anyone, she hoped Liu would live well. More than anything, she feared she’d hold Liu back.

 

She had promised to try again, to fulfill their mother’s wish for them to be a family again.

 

Xu longed deeply for that warmth—for their days as a trio. That’s why she came back.

 

But it was painful. She feared repeating the same mistakes as six years ago.

 

Then she said, seemingly out of nowhere: “I once took care of a snake.”

 

“A snake?” Liu blinked, surprised.

 

“Yan Muyu’s snake. I looked after it before our divorce. It was white, beautiful,” Xu said, her expression calm as she described it. “The housekeepers couldn’t touch her, but she was affectionate toward me. Even if I put my hand near her mouth, she wouldn’t bite.”

 

“She was like Yan Muyu,” Xu added.

 

Then she fell silent again.

 

Liu paused, surprised Xu would suddenly say so much.

 

But she understood—Xu’s story was actually an answer to her earlier question. Every word was laced with that person’s name.

 

Even the snake was a way to talk about Yan Muyu.

 

Xu was too transparent.

 

Liu smiled and waved at her. “Go on. I’m family now, right? Family wants to hear about the one you like.”

 

She said it so naturally. Xu looked up at her—her eyes held only encouragement.

 

But Xu hesitated and ultimately shook her head, unwilling to say more.

 

She hadn’t meant to talk about any of it. Her mind just spiraled, and the words came out.

 

She thought about Yan Muyu constantly.

 

Seeing Liu’s happiness, she couldn’t help but wonder: if her love didn’t hurt others, could she love Yan Muyu again?

 

Her love had always burned hot—reckless and consuming. That’s how, six years ago, she forced Liu to stay and ultimately broke her.

 

She feared she might do the same to Yan Muyu, dragging them both into that fiery abyss.

 

So even when she didn’t fully understand her own feelings, she tried desperately to suppress them.

 

But now, Shen Li returned with Nian Nian. The old cat looked tired, droopy-eared. Liu gently cradled her and cooed softly.

 

The cat seemed to recognize her scent and responded weakly.

 

Seeing the cat respond, Liu’s eyes lit up—like all shadows had vanished. A soft glow appeared in her gaze.

 

Xu felt she was seeing that radiant, sun-like person again.

 

If… if her love wouldn’t hurt anyone…

 

Xu suddenly raised her hand to cover her eyes, trying to stop the tears.

 

But she had lost control. She couldn’t stop the sorrow or the tears welling up.

 

She tried to hide it—but the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

 

She couldn’t control her emotions anymore. She had suppressed them for too long. Just a hint of possibility—and all her longing to embrace Yan Muyu surged out violently.

 

If her love wouldn’t hurt Yan Muyu, could she then hold Yan Muyu in her arms?

 

Could she then confess her love to Yan Muyu?

 

Just thinking of this possibility made Xu Weishuang unable to restrain herself any longer.

 

The walls in her heart were constantly being broken down, and she could no longer stop these thoughts from forming.

 

Xu Weishuang’s love was always passionate.

 

Beneath her cold exterior hid a fervor even more scorching than flames.

 

She found Shi Yan and asked for the address of Yan Muyu’s film crew. On the second day of the holiday, she bid farewell to Liu Yuebai and went to see Yan Muyu.

 

When Xu Weishuang arrived, Yan Muyu was still filming. It was Shi Yan who came to receive her and led her to the set.

 

She saw Yan Muyu in costume, acting with someone. Xu Weishuang’s gaze followed her and never once left.

 

When she called Shi Yan earlier, she had asked her not to tell Yan Muyu she was coming, so at this moment, when Shi Yan brought her to the set, Yan Muyu—still immersed in acting—was completely unaware.

 

Yan Muyu was extremely focused while filming and didn’t notice Xu Weishuang standing at the side of the set for a long time. It wasn’t until other crew members noticed Xu Weishuang and began casting curious or meaningful glances at Yan Muyu that she sensed something.

 

After all, it was quite surprising for a famous actress’s ex-wife to suddenly show up on set—anyone would be curious.

 

Even the assistant director noticed, and Yan Muyu finally became aware.

 

She turned and saw Xu Weishuang. It had been a long time since they last met—since that parting in the mountains, she had almost stopped looking for any news about Xu Weishuang.

 

Shi Yan occasionally reported on Xu Weishuang’s recent activities, but Yan Muyu no longer wanted to hear about them. She told Shi Yan not to tell her anything about Xu Weishuang’s schedule anymore.

 

She had thought about it for a long time, guessed a lot, but Xu Weishuang’s obvious avoidance had already said everything.

 

Yan Muyu found herself laughable and, after mocking herself, finally decided to let go.

 

But feelings are hard to sever. So she had Shi Yan arrange a lot of work for her. Once she joined the filming crew, she wouldn’t have the energy to dwell on things anymore.

 

She never thought Xu Weishuang would suddenly show up. How did she know she was here? How did she get in?

 

Yan Muyu glanced at Shi Yan, her eyes dark. When she saw Shi Yan smiling at her, she knew—Shi Yan had sold her out.

 

She found it funny that Shi Yan would go along with such a childish act.

 

She looked again at Xu Weishuang. The latter didn’t seem to have changed. Her makeup was light, her hair loose and dark like ink, wearing a plain blue-white outfit, standing alone, making her seem even more cool and serene.

 

Xu Weishuang’s expression didn’t show anything unusual. They were standing a bit apart, so Yan Muyu couldn’t see clearly—couldn’t understand.

 

She didn’t go over to greet her, simply lowered her gaze and signaled to the director that filming could continue.

 

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” the actor playing opposite her asked, thinking Yan Muyu was going to take a break.

 

“No need.” Yan Muyu’s eyes were firm as she spoke.

 

The actor could only nod, silently admiring Yan Muyu’s professional dedication to acting.

 

Filming continued until nightfall, with some night scenes as well. Xu Weishuang waited by the side the whole time, even making Shi Yan anxious, but she stayed rooted.

 

Finally, when the shoot wrapped, the crew was abuzz with curiosity. People slowed down their packing, hoping to catch a glimpse of the drama.

 

But Yan Muyu didn’t want to put on a show for others. She smiled and said goodbye to everyone, then called Xu Weishuang and Shi Yan over. Her performance was perfect—no one could see that she and Xu Weishuang were divorced.

 

Some even started to wonder if it was really possible for ex-wives to remain friends.

 

She brought Xu Weishuang into the car, but there were others present, so she said nothing and didn’t want to hear anything either.

 

Once they got back to the hotel and were alone in the room, Yan Muyu finally spoke: “Why are you here? Is there something you want?”

 

Without outsiders, her voice shed its polite facade, now cold and sharp—startling Xu Weishuang for a moment before she quickly composed herself.

 

“I came to see you,” Xu Weishuang answered.

 

Though Yan Muyu let her in, she only opened the door and turned on the light by the entrance, leaving the rest of the room in darkness, confining their space to that narrow threshold, not allowing Xu Weishuang further in.

 

Xu Weishuang suddenly realized something, her fingertips clenching, heart tightening.

 

“I know you came to find me,” Yan Muyu exhaled tiredly.

 

Didn’t Xu Weishuang avoid her? Why now?

 

She didn’t know how to face Xu Weishuang anymore—not just from the physical exhaustion of filming, but the pain and helplessness of seeing her again.

 

Xu Weishuang stared at Yan Muyu’s face. Her visible fatigue made Xu Weishuang speechless for a moment.

 

For the first time, she resented her own poor communication skills. But now that she had come all this way, she didn’t want to back down.

 

She had thought for a long time before stepping forward and gently grasping Yan Muyu’s hand. Just lightly—Yan Muyu could easily pull away if she wanted.

 

Looking straight into her eyes, Xu Weishuang gathered all her courage and said: “I want to act with you.”

 

She spoke with the utmost sincerity, as if she wasn’t talking about acting, but using the act as a way to express something more.

 

Yan Muyu, sensitive as she was, felt the significance the moment their fingers touched, the moment she heard those words.

 

There was no trace of concealment in Xu Weishuang’s eyes—only raw, burning emotion.

 

Yan Muyu immediately realized what it was. Her heart trembled violently.

 

She was in disbelief, completely thrown into chaos.

 

Xu Weishuang… how could it be possible?

 

She couldn’t even control her expression, stunned, yet too emotionally exhausted from long suppression to feel anything clearly.

 

It was as if her thoughts no longer belonged to her—she couldn’t control anything.

 

Xu Weishuang, seeing Yan Muyu remain silent, lowered her head slightly.

 

She was afraid Yan Muyu would reject her. She believed Yan Muyu still had feelings, but was terrified those feelings might be gone.

 

If Yan Muyu no longer loved her, she would immediately give up.

 

She could not become a burden to her again—she couldn’t make the same mistakes as before.

 

“Liu Yuebai’s drama has confirmed me as one of the leads. There’s still one other female lead. I want to act with you.” Xu Weishuang’s grip on Yan Muyu’s hand unconsciously tightened, as if to give herself courage.

 

“If you reject me, that means you don’t want anything more to do with me. I won’t bother you again. I’ll never come back to disturb you.” She spoke slowly, with difficulty, staring directly into Yan Muyu’s eyes, refusing to look away, laying everything bare.

 

She wasn’t threatening her. She was simply saying: if you reject me, I’ll leave. I’ll no longer be your burden.

 

But if you don’t reject me, even if you don’t agree outright—I will keep moving closer.

 

Yan Muyu understood this clearly. Instinctively, she gripped Xu Weishuang’s hand tightly in return, her grip strong enough that Xu Weishuang could clearly feel it.

 

Though she still didn’t respond, and seemed too lost and overwhelmed to know what to say.

 

Xu Weishuang felt that response. That was enough—she didn’t need a verbal answer just yet.

 

She only wanted a little indulgence, a little permission to come close.

 

She had made her feelings clear—Yan Muyu would understand. But she didn’t confess her love directly this time, because this time, Xu Weishuang wanted to take it slow.

 

Six years ago, they didn’t truly know each other. They never even experienced a real relationship—it had all been a transaction.

 

Now, if their feelings were mutual, Xu Weishuang hoped they could spend time together slowly, really get to know each other, and make a sincere choice.

 

She wanted, with Yan Muyu, to experience what real lovers did—to feel true love.

 

Even if both of them were broken, even if they were different from the rest of the world, they could still love each other well.

 

“I’ll wait for your answer.”