The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 48

Chapter 48

 

Xu Weishuang cried a lot, and although her fans didn’t know the reason, hearing her sobbing while thanking the girl who gave her flowers moved them so much that they started crying too.

 

In the end, the whole room was filled with tears.

 

Everyone was crying—except Xiao Shiyi. Even the older sister brought in to film the event was secretly wiping away tears, but Xiao Shiyi, though deeply moved, didn’t shed a single tear.

 

She was still focused on maintaining the event. Even though things had turned emotional and chaotic, her work wasn’t done yet. No matter how moved she was, she couldn’t let herself cry. When it came to working part-time, she was extremely professional.

 

Once Xu Weishuang finally stopped crying, Xiao Shiyi immediately began calming down the fans.

 

The fan meeting originally had a strict time limit, but everyone had become so emotional that it went way past the scheduled time. Xiao Shiyi even took the fans out for a late-night bite afterward.

 

Xu Weishuang, still in her feelings, joined them for a few drinks. Xiao Shiyi tried her best to stop her. Celebrities drinking in front of fans? What if she lost control?!

 

If anything went wrong, Sister Shi Yan would definitely kill her tomorrow.

 

But once Xu Weishuang had made up her mind, there was no persuading her. If she didn’t want to listen, nothing could make her.

 

Seeing how sincere her fans were, Xu Weishuang wanted to be sincere in return, even if it was a bit naive.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of maintaining distance between idols and fans in the entertainment industry.

 

But it was her birthday. Someone said she was like a sun that could light up others.

 

So she wanted to be a little selfish.

 

Besides, she didn’t drink much, and the fans were also mindful not to let her overdo it.

 

When they parted, the fans each left her with a heartfelt wish: for her to rest well and stay happy.

 

Xu Weishuang promised them all—anything she promised, she would do her best to fulfill.

 

After the staff escorted the fans away, Xiao Shiyi brought a slightly dizzy Xu Weishuang back to the hotel.

 

In Xiao Shiyi’s hand was a piece of neatly packaged cake. After sharing the birthday cake with the fans earlier, Xu Weishuang had suddenly asked her to box up a slice.

 

Xiao Shiyi assumed she wanted to save it for later at the hotel and considered reminding her that Director Liu wanted her to strictly manage her weight.

 

Just as she was thinking about it, she got distracted for a moment—only to realize that Xu Weishuang, dizzy as she claimed not to be, had gone to the wrong floor and was now standing in front of the wrong room.

 

And she insisted she wasn’t drunk!

 

Xiao Shiyi quickly caught up, only to see Xu Weishuang stop in front of a door.

 

4126.

 

The number rang a bell in Xiao Shiyi’s mind, but she couldn’t quite place it right away.

 

She was about to coax the supposedly drunk Xu Weishuang away from the door, but to her shock, Xu Weishuang raised her hand and knocked on room 4126.

 

“!!!” Sis, do you even know who lives there?!

 

Xiao Shiyi was stunned but quickly composed herself, scrambling to think of a plausible explanation.

 

Before she could come up with one, the door opened.

 

Xiao Shiyi’s eyes widened.

 

Xu Weishuang wasn’t drunk. She hadn’t gotten lost. She hadn’t knocked on the wrong door.

 

This was Yan Muyu’s room.

 

No wonder the number had looked familiar.

 

Realizing this, Xiao Shiyi silently stepped back, doing her best to become invisible.

 

But Xu Weishuang suddenly turned to her—not really at her, but at the piece of cake she’d been holding.

 

Xiao Shiyi caught on immediately. After only a second’s hesitation, she handed the cake over with both hands.

 

Xu Weishuang took it and held it out to Yan Muyu.

 

“This is today’s birthday cake,” she said. “It’s for you.”

 

Yan Muyu stood in the doorway, glanced at the neatly packaged cake, and then looked back at Xu Weishuang.

 

“Happy birthday,” she said, reaching out to accept it and finally saying the birthday wishes she hadn’t managed to speak on set earlier.

 

But Xu Weishuang suddenly pulled her hand back, leaving Yan Muyu grasping at thin air.

 

Startled, Yan Muyu watched as Xu Weishuang stretched out her other hand, palm open. “My birthday gift,” she said.

 

She spoke firmly, as if completely certain that Yan Muyu had prepared a gift for her.

 

Yan Muyu was even more surprised. She hadn’t expected Xu Weishuang to remember—let alone directly ask for it.

 

After a brief pause, seeing that Xu Weishuang wouldn’t hand over the cake without the gift, Yan Muyu lowered her eyes and went back into the room. She returned with a neatly wrapped present and handed it to her.

 

Xu Weishuang took it—and finally gave her the cake.

 

What kind of trade is this?! Xiao Shiyi, watching from nearby, couldn’t help but scream internally.

 

She was a seasoned net surfer and knew exactly what the internet was saying about Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu. Yan Muyu’s intense work schedule from last year until now had raised plenty of eyebrows—especially since it coincided with the announcement that she’d be acting alongside Xu Weishuang.

 

And both of them were divorced. Still happily working together. Making no effort to avoid suspicion. The netizens couldn’t think of any explanation other than reconciliation.

 

Of course, as someone who shipped them hard from extremely close range, Xiao Shiyi could guarantee they hadn’t remarried.

 

But maybe… they were close.

 

She looked toward the two of them again, only to see Xu Weishuang already standing very close to Yan Muyu. Xiao Shiyi had stepped back earlier to give them space, and now, since Xu Weishuang had moved further into the doorway, she couldn’t clearly see what they were doing—but they were definitely even closer than before.

 

Inside, the two were indeed standing very close.

 

After receiving the gift, Xu Weishuang had suddenly leaned in, looking straight into Yan Muyu’s eyes.

 

She had things she wanted to say, but once close, she didn’t know how to begin.

 

Yan Muyu was startled by her sudden proximity but didn’t pull away—even though she knew the distance between them was already crossing a line.

 

She half-lowered her eyes, not smiling, but not cold either. Under Xu Weishuang’s gaze, she reached out and gently brushed the corner of Xu Weishuang’s eye with her fingertips.

 

Xu Weishuang had cried too hard earlier, and her eyes were still a little red.

 

Yan Muyu’s fingertips were cool as they brushed gently across her skin—an ambiguous gesture full of emotion. She looked steadily at Xu Weishuang, not holding back at all.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t avoid her touch. She blinked, and before Yan Muyu could lower her hand, she suddenly grabbed both of Yan Muyu’s hands and pressed them against her own cheeks.

 

Maybe she really was drunk. In a clearer state, she would never have done this or said such things.

 

Staring into Yan Muyu’s eyes—those usually cold eyes now full of tender affection—Xu Weishuang said:

 

“My heart is beating so fast.”

 

Yan Muyu seemed startled by the words. Her fingers curled reflexively, her gaze still locked with Xu Weishuang’s, but she didn’t pull away.

 

“I know,” she replied.

 

Because her own heart was also pounding uncontrollably.

 

Her expression softened, her palm warm against Xu Weishuang’s skin, her heart unable to calm down.

 

“You smell like smoke,” Xu Weishuang added. Her thoughts were a little scattered now, and she was just saying whatever came to mind.

 

“Go get some rest,” Yan Muyu said after a pause. “We have filming tomorrow.”

 

She slowly withdrew her hands from Xu Weishuang’s grasp but then leaned in and hugged her briefly, whispering into her ear like she was comforting her.

 

It was just a hug, but her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. They had shared all kinds of intimacy before, but somehow even a small touch now made her heart race.

 

Yan Muyu wanted to laugh at herself—but the flutter in her chest filled her with an unfamiliar sweetness.

 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to let Xu Weishuang go.

 

Xu Weishuang nodded and stepped back obediently.

 

Everything she had received today was enough. She didn’t dare ask for more.

 

Carrying the gift from Yan Muyu, she left. After closing the door, Yan Muyu slowly returned to the small table inside. There was still a cigarette burning in the ashtray—she had taken up smoking after the divorce, though she always cleaned the smell off before going out.

 

Xu Weishuang’s unexpected visit hadn’t given her time to do that.

 

She remembered that Xu Weishuang used to love the scent of her perfume. Yan Muyu tidied up the table, took out all the cigarettes in her bag, and threw them into the trash.

 

When Xu Weishuang mentioned the smell, she’d furrowed her brow slightly—she didn’t like it.

 

Time to quit, Yan Muyu thought, walking into the bathroom to take another shower, to wash away the smell.

 

…

 

Xu Weishuang asked Xiao Shiyi to buy her a glass vase so she could keep the sunflowers alive for a little longer—even if she knew it wouldn’t last.

 

She still clearly remembered everything from the night before. She really had lost her head, running straight to Yan Muyu like that. Things she would never dare do when sober, she’d done without hesitation.

 

But it wasn’t a mistake. She’d just had more courage than usual. Deep down, she had always wanted to do that with Yan Muyu.

 

And she got her answer—because Yan Muyu had hugged her back.

 

The next day on set, Xu Weishuang glanced at Yan Muyu, who was talking with the makeup artist. She could only see her profile, but her heart still skipped a beat.

 

She thought back to the night before, to how close they had been—close enough to hear each other’s heartbeat.

 

At that moment, Yan Muyu’s heartbeat matched hers.

 

Xu Weishuang had never felt anything like this. She had never been in a proper relationship before, never really fallen for anyone.

 

When she first developed feelings for Yan Muyu, she didn’t even realize it. And there were too many problems between them back then.

 

Now, just seeing her face made Xu Weishuang feel breathless, her heart swelling with the kind of sweetness only found in TV dramas about first love.

 

She didn’t know how to handle these unfamiliar emotions. It was overwhelming and impossible to suppress.

 

She pressed a hand to her chest, telling herself to stay calm. They had scenes to shoot later.

 

Fortunately, Yan Muyu was always very professional on set. She didn’t like personal feelings interfering with acting, and she treated Xu Weishuang no differently than usual.

 

Their scenes so far had been relatively easy. Apart from Director Liu occasionally asking for retakes to perfect some details, Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu had been working together smoothly.

 

…

 

Ling Wei brought Su Xiaole back to her place.

 

Ling Wei’s home was a small studio apartment—just one room. She’d been living frugally for years, saving up to buy a place of her own.

 

Only after bringing Su Xiaole home did she realize that they would have to sleep in the same bed tonight.

 

But they were both women—so sleeping together shouldn’t be a big deal.

 

“Did you bring a change of clothes?” Ling Wei looked up and asked Su Xiaole, who stood at the door looking rather awkward.

 

“Come in. Change your shoes.” Ling Wei pointed to the shoe cabinet, slightly amused by Su Xiaole’s demeanor. This was the same person who had hugged her without hesitation the moment they met—yet now she seemed shy.

 

Snapping out of her daze, Su Xiaole smiled at Ling Wei and changed into the house slippers before stepping inside.

 

“I left in a hurry. I didn’t bring any,” she replied, clutching her backpack tightly—answering Ling Wei’s earlier question.

 

Ling Wei sighed. She had already guessed that.

 

“Go take a shower, and change out of those dirty clothes. I’ll grab something of mine for you to wear.” Ling Wei led her to the bathroom, then explained how to use everything inside, worried she might not know. “You go wash up first. I’ll make something to eat—you probably didn’t eat well on the train.”

 

Su Xiaole listened attentively, smiling and nodding the whole time. When Ling Wei was done speaking, she said with a touch of admiration, “Weiwei-jie, you’re still the same—so gentle and kind.”

 

Ling Wei paused for a moment but didn’t respond. Then she shut the bathroom door, placing a barrier between them.

 

She took a deep breath, feeling a little helpless toward Su Xiaole.

 

They’d been close many years ago, but time had passed—they had grown up and changed. Yet Su Xiaole was still describing her using memories of the past. It made Ling Wei feel awkward.

 

Because the current Ling Wei was no longer gentle.

 

She hated everything around her—her company, her boss, her coworkers, even this lifeless rental apartment.

 

She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts, then found some clothes for Su Xiaole and headed to the kitchen.

 

It was already past midnight, so she made something simple. She finished just as Su Xiaole emerged from her shower.

 

Now clean and dressed in fresh clothes, Su Xiaole looked even more beautiful—delicate and radiant.

 

For a moment, Ling Wei felt a bit dazed. Looking at her now, she wondered how she could have barely remembered what Su Xiaole looked like during her annual visits back home.

 

On reflection, she realized that in recent years, she’d only ever seen Su Xiaole from a distance—or just caught a glimpse of her back as she walked away.

 

“Let’s eat,” Ling Wei said, furrowing her brow, forcing herself to stop overthinking. It didn’t matter anyway. She was just letting Su Xiaole stay for a few days out of sympathy—there was no need to know too much.

 

After dinner, Ling Wei cleaned up and got ready for bed. She had mentally prepared herself for this moment and didn’t feel too awkward now.

 

But as she lay on the bed beside Su Xiaole, she was shocked by how cold the girl’s body was—like an ice block.

 

Ling Wei began to wonder if Su Xiaole had some kind of health issue.

 

Sure, many people had cold hands and feet, but not to this extreme. Even lying in the same bed, Ling Wei couldn’t feel any warmth from her. It was disturbingly cold.

 

She was too tired, though. Despite frowning from the chill, she eventually fell asleep. But in her dreams, she felt like she was trapped in an ice cellar—and the freezing cold haunted her even after she woke up.

 

Unable to hold it in, she asked, “Are you sick or something? Why is your body so cold?”

 

Su Xiaole paused before smiling and shaking her head. “I’ve always been like this. I’ve had it checked—there’s nothing wrong. Probably just poor circulation.”

 

Ling Wei eyed her pale face, not quite convinced. But if Su Xiaole didn’t want to say more, there wasn’t much she could do.

 

Su Xiaole stayed at Ling Wei’s place for several days. She barely went out, and Ling Wei had no idea what she did at home. But every evening when Ling Wei returned, the lights were on, and Su Xiaole would warmly greet her at the door.

 

Ling Wei, who had struggled alone in this city for years, found a sliver of warmth in this unexpected reunion with a once-distant friend.

 

Su Xiaole never mentioned when she planned to leave, and Ling Wei found herself unwilling to bring it up.

 

She knew Su Xiaole would leave eventually—but it was nice to have her around a little longer.

 

On the seventh night, after dinner, Ling Wei collapsed on the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Did you secretly train under a top chef or something? Your cooking is amazing. I’m going to get fat.”

 

Su Xiaole laughed and handed her a glass of water. “Drink some water. Everyone back home knows how to cook—it’s nothing special. You’re the one who didn’t have time to learn because you were studying and working so hard.”

 

Ling Wei took the glass and shook her head with a helpless smile. “I’m not exactly making a fortune here.”

 

She’d noticed over the past few days that Su Xiaole admired her with an almost worshipful gaze. Everyone in their village looked at her that way, the girl who had made it to the capital. But Su Xiaole, who had seen her real life here, still looked at her like she hung the stars.

 

In this city, Ling Wei was nothing—a speck of dust in the crowd, unnoticed.

 

“And stop calling me ‘Weiwei-jie,’” she added.

 

Su Xiaole always said it with a little upward lilt, as if she adored the name. It made Ling Wei blush with embarrassment. She suspected Su Xiaole only called her that because of childhood memories—but it still sounded too sweet.

 

“Nope.” Su Xiaole refused and threw herself onto Ling Wei in a hug.

 

She still acted like a child sometimes, always so clingy. Despite her beautiful face, she often behaved like a spoiled little girl.

 

But her way of cuddling was both beautiful and adorable—like a ragdoll cat. Ling Wei had once wanted to adopt one, but work had made that impossible.

 

She didn’t mind Su Xiaole’s affection—it just made her shy.

 

When Su Xiaole snuggled into her neck, cheeks pressed against her skin, Ling Wei finally had to push her away.

 

It was too ticklish.

 

Not just her neck—her heart.

 

Ling Wei could feel it.

 

Damn it…

 

“Let’s go for a walk to help digest dinner. Just around the neighborhood—not far,” she blurted out, a bit too quickly, like she was trying to change the subject.

 

But she wasn’t just making an excuse. Su Xiaole had been cooped up at home for a week, and Ling Wei had asked if she wanted to go out before. Su Xiaole always said she didn’t feel like it.

 

She looked at her, and Ling Wei was about to say “never mind” when Su Xiaole finally nodded.

 

Ling Wei subtly took a step back, relieved.

 

They quickly cleaned up and went out—no need to dress up since it was just the neighborhood.

 

It was already dark. Most people had returned home, which suited Ling Wei—she didn’t like crowds. She and Su Xiaole strolled slowly side by side.

 

The night breeze was refreshing. Ling Wei let out a long breath, feeling herself relax.

 

This past week had been the most peaceful time of her life in a long while. Before, she lived in numbness, incapable of feeling joy or warmth. But since Su Xiaole arrived, life had been filled with light.

 

Just being near her brought Ling Wei comfort.

 

As they walked closely together, their fingers brushed accidentally—or maybe not accidentally. Ling Wei couldn’t tell, but her attention was consumed by that faint touch.

 

She wanted to hold hands.

 

They were both girls. Holding hands shouldn’t be a big deal… right?

 

The thought crossed her mind, and a second later, she cursed herself for being shameless.

 

If it really meant nothing, why was she so nervous—why did she need an excuse?

 

She shut her eyes and reached out, directly taking Su Xiaole’s hand.

 

“Look, there’s a kitty over there,” she said casually, pretending the hand-hold was just to lead Su Xiaole toward the cat.

 

She knew that cat. It wasn’t a stray—the owner was a middle-aged woman who always said the cat had the energy of a dog. It needed to be walked every day or it’d get restless and act out.

 

It was an incredibly friendly cat—very gentle. Whenever someone came near, it would allow petting and purr happily.

 

Ling Wei had seen it many times and had petted it often.

 

But when they approached, and Ling Wei crouched to pet it, the usually gentle cat suddenly fluffed up, baring its teeth and hissing wildly at her.

 

Ling Wei was startled. She had never seen it behave like this. She tried to calm the cat, saying she meant no harm, but it only got more agitated.

 

The cat’s ears flattened back—a clear sign of fear.

 

Ling Wei stood up and took a step back, confused. She was about to ask the owner what was wrong, but then it happened.

 

The cat lunged—at Su Xiaole.

 

A feral, beastly scream tore from its throat, freezing Ling Wei’s bl00d.

 

She turned to look—Su Xiaole had been startled too and was backing away in fear.

 

Luckily, the cat was leashed. Its owner yanked it back in time, preventing the attack.

 

But the cat kept hissing viciously at Su Xiaole. The sound was terrifying.

 

The owner apologized profusely, scolding the cat, while Ling Wei waved it off, saying nothing.

 

Still, she noticed—when the owner picked up the cat, it instantly turned docile again.

 

Ling Wei found it strange but was more concerned about whether Su Xiaole was hurt. “Are you okay? Did you get scratched?”

 

Su Xiaole quickly shook her head, sensing Ling Wei’s worry.

 

“Let’s go home,” she said, taking Ling Wei’s hand.

 

Ling Wei agreed, eager to leave.

 

As they turned around, Ling Wei caught a glimpse of the cat’s owner still standing there, cradling her pet.

 

She was staring—staring directly at Ling Wei.

 

Her eyes wide, her expression deeply disturbed, as if she were looking at something horrifying.

 

Ling Wei’s heart seized. An icy chill spread through her limbs.

 

“Let’s go,” Su Xiaole called gently, snapping her out of it.

 

Ling Wei’s heart pounded violently, her anxiety mounting.

 

That night, she couldn’t shake that woman’s stare—it gnawed at her, growing more unsettling the more she thought about it.

 

She had a dream—and she knew it was a dream, because it was so bizarre and terrifying.

 

She saw that same cat. She was lying on the ground, paralyzed. The cat was beside her, its mouth dripping with bl00d as it frantically gnawed at her body.

 

The cat’s owner stood nearby, her face obscured in shadow.

 

Ling Wei could hear the wet, horrific sounds of the cat eating, could smell the bl00d from her own torn body—but she felt no pain.

 

Like a corpse.

 

The realization struck her like a bolt of terror. She wanted to scream for help—to cry out.

 

“Ah!” Ling Wei finally screamed and woke up with a jolt.

 

Eyes wide, heart racing—her body still whole. It had just been a nightmare.

 

She tried to calm herself.

 

Then instinctively turned to look where Su Xiaole should be—and froze again.

 

Su Xiaole wasn’t in bed.

 

She was crouching beside the bed, head resting on the mattress, staring at Ling Wei with unblinking eyes.

 

She had no idea how long she’d been there.