The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 49

Chapter 49

 

Ling Wei had just woken from a nightmare, still shaken, when she saw that scene—so terrifying she nearly lost her breath again.

 

She stared at Su Xiaole dumbfounded, unable to say a word.

 

Su Xiaole, however, stood up just then, which made Ling Wei even more nervous—until she saw Su Xiaole simply walk to the bedside and turn on the light.

 

The white light came on, and Ling Wei saw Su Xiaole’s face appear pale under the brightness, but her sparkling eyes completely dispelled the horror brought by the previous darkness.

 

Ling Wei exhaled slowly, finally calming down a little, and hesitantly asked, “Why are you squatting there in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?”

 

She asked this while staring intently at Su Xiaole, trying to detect a hint of truth in her expression.

 

Su Xiaole frowned slightly, looking down with a hint of grievance. “My stomach hurts… I thought squatting might ease the pain a bit, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

She said this cautiously, because during dinner she had insisted on drinking cold water even though Ling Wei told her not to. She’d promised that she was perfectly healthy and wouldn’t have any problems.

 

Now, she was squatting by the bed in pain, regretting that decision.

 

Ling Wei hadn’t expected that answer. Now, seeing how pale Su Xiaole looked—her brows tightly knit as if enduring something—her suspicion vanished. She felt both frustrated and amused, and quickly got out of bed to find medicine. “Seriously… I don’t even know what to say to you. You could’ve just woken me up to get you medicine instead of sitting there suffering!”

 

She mumbled as she moved, clearly getting more irritated the more she thought about it. She found the medicine, brought a glass of warm water, and even came back with a heating pad.

 

Seeing Su Xiaole still squatting in place, she felt both angry and distressed.

 

“Lie down.” She circled around to Su Xiaole’s side, waited for her to take the medicine, then gently placed the heating pad on Su Xiaole’s belly.

 

After taking the medicine, Su Xiaole obediently lay back under the covers, her misty eyes fixed intently on Ling Wei.

 

Ling Wei couldn’t ignore that gaze. She pressed her lips together and reached out to smooth Su Xiaole’s slightly messy hair, her expression soft and tender.

 

Su Xiaole quietly gazed at her, so intensely that Ling Wei grew shy. Just as she was about to pull away, Su Xiaole suddenly leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her.

 

“So warm. Weiwei-jie, you’re so warm.” Su Xiaole buried her face in Ling Wei’s neck and gently rubbed against her, murmuring in a spoiled tone.

 

It wasn’t the first time Su Xiaole had acted clingy, and it wasn’t the first time they’d embraced like this.

 

But the atmosphere at this moment made Ling Wei feel it was too intimate.

 

Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest, heat rising through her entire body.

 

Instinctively, she wanted to push Su Xiaole away—but the girl’s body was so cold, and those arms around her held so tightly, like she was clinging to her with every ounce of strength.

 

Ling Wei suddenly felt that she couldn’t push her away.

 

After hesitating for a moment, she raised her arms and hugged Su Xiaole back.

 

“Next time you’re sick, just tell me. Don’t try to tough it out alone,” Ling Wei said softly.

 

That gentle voice drifted into Su Xiaole’s ears. She closed her eyes, as if her body and soul were wrapped in Ling Wei’s warmth.

 

Her Weiwei-jie was still as gentle as she’d been when they were kids.

 

“Mm, I know I was wrong,” Su Xiaole replied obediently.

 

But Ling Wei suddenly felt dazed. She had said “next time”. Was she planning to let Su Xiaole stay here long-term?

 

That possibility made her feel a surprising flutter of joy.

 

In the days that followed, Ling Wei never mentioned Su Xiaole moving out, nor did she ask about her home situation. Since Ling Wei didn’t bring it up, Su Xiaole never explained—just stayed in her house for over half a month.

 

Ling Wei’s life finally gained some color. Every day, she looked forward to coming home from work and seeing Su Xiaole. She bought a lot of items for two, because she noticed that whenever she bought matching things, Su Xiaole would get very happy.

 

But despite everything, Ling Wei still felt uneasy. The longer Su Xiaole stayed, the more nervous she became. After all, Su Xiaole had run away from home, and by now, her family was likely searching for her.

 

She couldn’t live here forever. Ling Wei’s mom visited sometimes, and every year she had to return to her village for New Year.

 

As the days passed and they grew even closer, as Su Xiaole’s affection and intimacy grew bolder, Ling Wei’s anxiety only worsened.

 

Until she realized—she didn’t want to be separated from Su Xiaole. She wanted her to stay by her side forever. And so, she had to face those unresolved issues.

 

“Why did you run away from home?” That night, Ling Wei held Su Xiaole’s hand and finally asked.

 

Su Xiaole was leaning against her as they watched a movie. To set the mood, all the lights were off except for the soft blue glow of the TV screen.

 

At the question, Su Xiaole sat up slightly and turned to look at Ling Wei.

 

She didn’t speak—just stared, unmoving, for a long while.

 

Ling Wei met her eyes—but they held such complex emotion that she couldn’t read them at all.

 

“Weiwei-jie, do you like me?” Su Xiaole finally spoke, but instead of answering Ling Wei’s question, she asked one of her own.

 

Her voice was serious, her gaze unwavering, as if she was desperate for an answer in that moment.

 

Ling Wei didn’t want to lie to herself. Under Su Xiaole’s intense gaze, she nodded.

 

Yes, she liked her. The bond from childhood, the curiosity after their reunion, and the attachment after spending time together.

 

The villagers always said Su Xiaole wasn’t right in the head, but to Ling Wei, no one in the world was kinder or more lovable.

 

Su Xiaole’s eyes lit up. It was the answer she wanted. Smiling with joy, she wrapped her arms around Ling Wei and leaned close to her lips, murmuring, “Weiwei-jie, do you want to kiss me?”

 

Her voice carried a seductive undertone, so flirtatious that Ling Wei nearly wanted to run away, but Su Xiaole held her tightly, her breath mingling with Ling Wei’s at such close range.

 

Su Xiaole didn’t move in for the kiss, stopping just a finger’s width from Ling Wei’s lips. At that moment, Ling Wei felt like her heart might stop. She held her breath, not daring to exhale.

 

“Don’t want to?” Su Xiaole lowered her gaze, her expression turning slightly downcast.

 

They were so close that Ling Wei could clearly see every small change on her face—even the flutter of her lashes.

 

How could she not want to?

 

Holding back for so long, Ling Wei couldn’t take it anymore. She leaned in and kissed Su Xiaole.

 

She’d never dated before and didn’t know how to kiss. Despite her cool, mature appearance, she had no experience at all.

 

But Su Xiaole had seduced her to the point she nearly lost her soul. The moment their lips touched, it felt like she was drowning—so happy she could barely breathe.

 

Luckily, neither of them had experience. Just their lips pressing together was already overwhelming, and they stayed like that, shyly frozen, for quite a while without doing anything more.

 

Yet their hearts pounded so loudly, it felt like drums beating inside their chests—so intense it was impossible to ignore.

 

Ling Wei shut her eyes and heard the rhythm clearly, not sure if it was her heartbeat or Su Xiaole’s. Probably both.

 

Because she could feel Su Xiaole trembling, her arms tightening around her more and more, lips pressing against hers with a longing that wouldn’t let go.

 

Su Xiaole didn’t even try to hide the soft, breathy gasps escaping her throat—tiny sounds of pleasure that she couldn’t control.

 

Ling Wei blushed even more at the sound. She felt just as good—so good she was melting.

 

But she wanted more.

 

Opening her eyes slightly, she saw Su Xiaole’s flushed face, her eyes heavy with desire. Ling Wei felt her chest burn hotter.

 

“Open your mouth,” she whispered—and only then noticed how husky her voice had become.

 

After a slight pause, Su Xiaole obediently parted her lips and stuck out the tip of her tongue.

 

Ling Wei, watching it all, was shaking with emotion. She lost control and leaned in to kiss her again, tasting that bit of tongue.

 

She thought their earlier kiss had already felt amazing—but the moment she tasted Su Xiaole’s tongue, an even stronger wave of pleasure overwhelmed her.

 

Soft, wet, sweet, hot.

 

Ling Wei couldn’t describe her feelings. She just felt like she was being completely consumed.

 

She instinctively opened her own mouth and explored Su Xiaole’s, neither of them having any skill—just instinct, passion, and an uncontrollable desire.

 

They kissed for a long, long time—until they were both breathless, overheated, their throats letting out involuntary moans that made them both embarrassed.

 

…

 

“Cut! Great job, take a break,” Liu Yuebai called out at that moment.

 

Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu separated after that take.

 

The kiss had been so intense, and since they had to portray innocent inexperience, it took multiple tries before Liu Yuebai was finally satisfied.

 

By the time they parted, both their lips were flushed—too many takes, too intense. Even the staff nearby were starting to blush.

 

Xu Weishuang hadn’t yet come down from the emotions. As they separated, she instinctively grabbed onto Yan Muyu.

 

That scene hadn’t been easy for her. The more emotional the scene, the deeper Xu Weishuang tended to fall—and it was even more difficult when it came to kissing Yan Muyu.

 

“Still not out of character?” Yan Muyu noticed and turned back to ask her.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t answer, only held tightly onto the corner of her clothing, clearly reluctant to let go.

 

That reaction alone said she was still lost in the scene.

 

Xu Weishuang rarely showed her feelings on set, so such an obvious gesture meant she hadn’t sorted out the emotions in her head and was seeking comfort—whether from Ling Wei or Yan Muyu.

 

Yan Muyu paused for a moment, then sat down in front of her. Ignoring the gazes around them, she gently pulled Xu Weishuang into her arms.

 

Whether Xu Weishuang wanted the character or the real her—Yan Muyu was willing to offer both.

 

Right now, that didn’t matter to her anymore.

 

She just held her tightly, letting Xu Weishuang bury herself in her embrace—let her rely on her.

 

This time, there were no schemes, no calculations—not even possessiveness.

 

Yan Muyu was simply there, giving her everything.

 

She simply wanted to give Xu Weishuang what she needed, to satisfy her in that moment.

 

Yan Muyu exhaled deeply, feeling Xu Weishuang wrap her arms tightly around her in return.

 

The two of them were pressed so closely together, their body heat melding into one. It wasn’t the kind of youthful, fiery contact like between Ling Wei and Su Xiaole in the drama. What their fingertips and bodies felt was a deep, familiar intimacy that could never truly be forgotten.

 

Holding Xu Weishuang close, Yan Muyu realized the people around them had all taken notice, but she didn’t care anymore. It didn’t matter what others thought of them now.

 

Director Liu Yuebai had only told them to rest for a bit—they still needed to reshoot some scenes later. She glanced at them embracing but said nothing, only signaling the makeup artist to touch them up.

 

At that, the two had to separate. Perhaps it was the comfort of the hug, but Xu Weishuang’s condition improved significantly, and she performed well once filming resumed.

 

Yan Muyu had always admired Xu Weishuang’s talent, and working closely with her this time had only deepened that admiration.

 

After filming wrapped for the day, Xu Weishuang remained unusually quiet.

 

Even when Xiao Shiyi brought up an upcoming event in her schedule, she barely listened.

 

Her mind was consumed with Yan Muyu’s embrace.

 

Compared to their touching scenes in the drama, it was that off-camera hug—when Yan Muyu still held her tightly after the scene ended—that made her heart flutter.

 

She really hadn’t fully come out of character yet, which wasn’t unusual. She always immersed herself deeply in her roles, and her emotional recovery was often slower than Yan Muyu’s.

 

But after all this time acting, she was used to that feeling. The emotional attachment to the character wouldn’t usually bleed into real life.

 

It was only because it was Yan Muyu that she let herself go.

 

Maybe a little of Su Xiaole’s emotions still lingered, but most of what she felt now was Xu Weishuang’s own longing.

 

Or maybe she just wanted to use the pretext of the role to do things she normally wouldn’t dare do.

 

She had never been in a relationship, had no idea how to express her feelings for Yan Muyu. Her heart was always full of emotions for her, but she never knew how to release them.

 

But with a reason—like being drunk, or playing a character—it became a little easier.

 

She carefully tested the waters of Yan Muyu’s heart, always afraid she would be pushed away.

 

But Yan Muyu didn’t. She had prepared a gift, hadn’t pushed her away, had even embraced her first.

 

More than physical closeness, it was Yan Muyu’s repeated tolerance and acceptance that made Xu Weishuang feel her sincerity.

 

She liked it so much.

 

She loved how Yan Muyu held her, loved how she silently accepted her need to be close.

 

Her heart felt like it was swinging, teased by every moment—elated one second, anxious the next.

 

Her mind was so caught up in the novelty of this closeness that she completely forgot they were divorced, that both of them were trending topics with huge online followings. Any small movement could be magnified on the internet.

 

That day’s shoot was indoors, but someone still managed to leak a photo of their tight embrace.

 

It quickly went viral, trending on social media and sparking a wave of discussion.

 

Liu Yuebai was furious. At the time, only the production crew had been present, and leaking the photo violated both contracts and professional ethics.

 

The producer held a meeting in the group chat and soon tracked down the person responsible.

 

Her name was Xiao Ruan. She’d never had issues at work, but her younger sister happened to be a hardcore CP fan of Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu. Since joining the crew, her sister had been messaging her constantly, asking for updates on the two of them, so Xiao Ruan started paying close attention too—almost obsessively, like she was sugar-hunting for her sister.

 

Usually, Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu kept things professional. But that day’s kiss scene had already been heart-racing enough—and then they embraced like that afterward.

 

Xiao Ruan was so shocked she immediately snapped a photo. Influenced by her sister, she had almost become a CP fan herself, and in the heat of the moment, her heart pounding, she sent the photo to her sister.

 

She never imagined her sister would share it publicly. When the producer confronted everyone in the group chat, she admitted to it and kept apologizing.

 

This was a serious breach—leaking from the set. And the two stars hadn’t confirmed any rekindled relationship. The photo could easily be manipulated by marketing accounts to push a narrative, creating trouble for both of them.

 

But on the other hand, it wasn’t unmanageable. The photo was taken while they were still in costume. If they wanted to downplay it, it could just be dismissed as a behind-the-scenes moment. If the crew didn’t want to press charges, it could even serve as free publicity.

 

It all depended on Xu Weishuang and Yan Muyu.

 

“Let’s clarify it. I’ll have Shi Yan take care of it,” Yan Muyu said after glancing at Xu Weishuang.

 

Xu Weishuang agreed, offering a soft confirmation.

 

They hadn’t reconciled yet, and Xu Weishuang didn’t want to deceive fans again like during the divorce announcement.

 

They now shared the same manager, and fans already knew that—releasing a joint statement wouldn’t be hard.

 

Online reaction wasn’t too bad either. Some people dragged up their affectionate appearances during The Actress Within, accusing them of using relationship rumors for attention again.

 

But the majority were CP fans celebrating ecstatically under the photo.

 

“I knew it!!! I KNEW IT!!! They’re definitely getting back together!”

 

“Same! The day Yan posted about the divorce, she looked like she was smiling through pain. I’ve never seen her like that in all my years as a fan. It broke me.”

 

“Remember during The Actress Within, when they picked each other as mentors? Everyone screamed it was rigged, but they still chose each other. They hadn’t divorced then—maybe they were already trying to make it work again?”

 

“They have to reconcile! Yan’s been working so hard just to get this drama with Weishuang—everyone knows it. Our queen won’t stop until she wins her wife back!”

 

“But I’m team Weishuang-as-the-dominant one…”

 

“Yesss. Our Weishuang looks so cool and aloof—totally the top.”

 

“You fools. Cool and aloof makes the perfect bottom.”

 

“Switch. SWITCH. It’s mutual!”

 

“…We’re already discussing roles?? Don’t jinx it—what if they deny everything?”

 

Sure enough, not long after, Shi Yan posted an official clarification. That last comment immediately shot to the top of the thread.

 

“…Shut up. You cursed us.”

 

“Are you from Yan’s PR team or something?? Did they brief you early??”

 

“I didn’t mean to!! I was just speaking casually! I’m a CP fan too!!!”

 

“…”

 

The frenzy didn’t last long. If it weren’t for Yan and Xu’s high profiles, it wouldn’t have caused such a stir at all.

 

Once clarified, the buzz faded quickly, and only CP fans remained lamenting.

 

After the situation was handled, Xu Weishuang received a call from Shi Yan. She hadn’t planned to call her, but given the evening’s events, she was worried that paparazzi might be lurking the next morning and wanted to give a heads-up.

 

That’s when Xu Weishuang remembered—she was scheduled to leave the set tomorrow.

 

She had a two-day event in another city. The plan had been in place for a while, and she’d already asked the production for time off. Earlier that day, Xiao Shiyi had even reminded her again.

 

But her mind had been entirely filled with Yan Muyu. She hadn’t heard a word.

 

After hanging up, Xu Weishuang sat on the bed, feeling like there was something she still needed to do.

 

She stared at the ceiling. The strong desire in her heart made it very clear what that “unfinished business” was.

 

So she got up, changed clothes, and walked to Yan Muyu’s door.

 

It was late, but the group meeting had just ended. Yan Muyu likely hadn’t gone to bed yet.

 

She knocked, and sure enough, the door opened shortly after.

 

Yan Muyu raised her eyes to look at her. She didn’t ask why she was here so late, just looked at her, waiting.

 

“I want to come in,” Xu Weishuang said, pointing inside. What she wanted to do couldn’t be done at the doorway.

 

Yan Muyu chuckled softly, her gaze suddenly gentle to the extreme. She stepped aside, inviting Xu Weishuang in.

 

Xu Weishuang heard that laugh, and her heart was tickled—so itchy.

 

She walked in and sat on the sofa on her own. Her expression remained cool, but inside, her emotions were anything but calm.

 

Yan Muyu sat across from her, gaze fixed steadily on her.

 

Xu Weishuang didn’t know what to do for a moment. After a long pause, she finally said, “I’m leaving the crew tomorrow for an event.”

 

She was just informing Yan Muyu of her schedule. But then she realized—of course Yan Muyu already knew. Their scenes were connected. With her gone, they couldn’t film. Yan would’ve known from the schedule.

 

“Mm. Two days,” Yan Muyu replied. She not only knew from the schedule but also from Shi Yan.

 

She always knew Xu Weishuang’s schedule.

 

And she also knew why Xu Weishuang had come tonight. She had been waiting for her to come too.

 

She watched as Xu Weishuang lowered her head after speaking, clearly awkward. Yan Muyu found it so endearing that she didn’t say a word—just kept waiting.

 

Just looking at Xu Weishuang and waiting like this brought her immense joy. She never thought they’d have moments like this again.

 

This thing she had longed for all these years—she didn’t want to break it by speaking first.

 

“Yan Muyu, do you want to kiss me?” Xu Weishuang finally gathered her courage and asked.

 

Yan Muyu paused for just a moment, instantly recognizing the line—it was Su Xiaole’s line from the scene they’d filmed earlier.

 

She couldn’t help but laugh again.

 

She was so cute.

 

That thought kept surging up in her heart.

 

She looked at Xu Weishuang, who was still trying to keep a calm face, but her eyes were watery as she stared at her.

 

She had clearly struggled to say the words, yet once she had, she didn’t look away, demanding an answer with unwavering resolve.

 

She was just so incredibly adorable.

 

And in that moment, Yan Muyu’s vision suddenly blurred—tears welled up in her eyes uncontrollably.

 

For Xu Weishuang to choose her so firmly, it felt like a dream—so blissful, it frightened her.

 

What if it really was just a dream?