The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 8
Chapter 8
“Yan Muyu, who is Xu Xia to you?”
“And what exactly is your relationship with her?”
Yan Muyu didn’t answer immediately upon hearing these questions. She stared into Xu Weishuang’s eyes for a long time.
Then she brushed aside Xu Weishuang’s hand that was pushing against her, curled her lips into a charming smile, and said, “What does Xiaoshuang think my relationship with her is?”
She didn’t wait for Xu Weishuang to respond. Instead, she raised her hand to hook Xu Weishuang’s chin and leaned in close.
“Why do you want to ask?” Her eyes no longer held the tenderness from earlier—only a probing, intense gaze.
“Do you care?” Yan Muyu’s words landed directly by Xu Weishuang’s ear.
Did she care?
If she did, what exactly was she caring about?
Xu Weishuang herself didn’t understand, so how could she answer Yan Muyu’s question?
Seeing Xu Weishuang silent, Yan Muyu didn’t back down. She locked eyes with her, as if demanding an answer.
“If you care, then I’ll tell you.” As she said this, there was a shimmer in her eyes. When she met Xu Weishuang’s gaze, it felt as if she were the one desperately seeking answers.
She knew full well that I couldn’t answer.
Xu Weishuang already had her answer in her heart.
She lowered her gaze, avoiding Yan Muyu’s eyes.
“I don’t care,” she replied.
Yan Muyu wasn’t surprised. She let out a soft chuckle and then bit lightly at the corner of Xu Weishuang’s lips.
She didn’t bite lightly—but mindful that Xu Weishuang still had filming tomorrow, she left no marks. After the bite, she gently licked and kissed the spot, like an animal soothing another.
“I know you never really cared.” After the kiss, Yan Muyu stepped back and left her with that line.
Xu Weishuang remained silent. She couldn’t refute it—and instinctively wanted to agree with it.
She didn’t even notice the way Yan Muyu kept her eyes fixed on her for a long moment afterward.
By the time Xu Weishuang looked up again, Yan Muyu had returned to her usual self—smiling politely, the way she did with everyone.
“Since Xiaoshuang has no work today, why don’t you come eat with me? There’s a new restaurant I quite like,” Yan Muyu said, looking right at her.
Xu Weishuang instinctively wanted to agree, then suddenly remembered she had filming tomorrow, and opened her mouth to decline.
“Don’t worry—it won’t be late. I’ll get you back in time,” Yan Muyu said, her tone warm but with that familiar assertiveness Xu Weishuang knew so well.
Xu Weishuang didn’t argue further. She said nothing, which meant tacit consent.
Yan Muyu walked to the driver’s seat, clearly planning to drive herself.
Only then did Xu Weishuang notice Yan Muyu’s makeup: reddish-brown tones around her eyes that made her light brown irises—already a few shades paler than others—shine like translucent amber, soft and luminous like a flowing stream.
Xu Weishuang guessed she must have rushed over after finishing a job.
She looked for a moment longer, then turned her gaze to the scenery passing outside the car window.
The sky was cloudless, the road ahead quiet and empty—even the breeze brushing her fingers felt tinged with sorrow.
The shadows of trees rushed past on either side of the road. Their autumn form was already showing—leaves falling in swirling patterns, the withered yellow painting a picture of life in decay.
Xu Weishuang said nothing the entire ride. Only when the car pulled into the outdoor parking lot of a music-themed restaurant did a flicker of emotion cross her face.
Yan Muyu led her into a private room, though it was more like a small ballroom than a dining space.
After marrying Yan Muyu, Xu Weishuang had withdrawn from the entertainment industry. Aside from gatherings with the Yan family or Yan Muyu’s friends, she hadn’t stepped foot in places like this. She was quietly surprised to see a grand piano placed in the room.
“The owner here is a friend of Zhizhi’s. Media people aren’t allowed. We won’t be photographed,” Yan Muyu said.
A friend of Fu Zhizhi’s?
That meant they were from the same elite circle.
Xu Weishuang wasn’t particularly interested in these things—she heard Yan Muyu, but didn’t take it in.
She sat casually on the sofa, still confused about what all of this was for.
If this were some staged outing to be photographed and posted online to clear up rumors, there was no need for such closeness in the car, or to bring her out here now.
Unless there was a hidden camera somewhere.
But Xu Weishuang didn’t believe Yan Muyu would resort to that kind of trick. Their relationship had never needed such manipulation. That made everything happening now even more perplexing.
Yan Muyu clearly had a new substitute—so why keep tangling with her?
It was the question Xu Weishuang could never figure out.
“Xiaoshuang, do you remember what day it is today?” Yan Muyu asked then, standing before the piano, her fingers brushing the keys, her eyes cast down.
Xu Weishuang frowned slightly, trying to remember. Nothing came to mind. She shook her head at Yan Muyu in confusion.
Then, noticing that Yan Muyu hadn’t looked at her, she added aloud, “I don’t know.”
Yan Muyu gave a soft chuckle, her head still bowed, hiding her expression.
“It’s not any special day,” she said gently, her voice smiling—but the end of her sentence carried a sigh that Xu Weishuang couldn’t quite place.
Before Xu Weishuang could dig into the meaning behind it, Yan Muyu spoke again.
“I’ll be playing a pianist in an upcoming role, so I’ve been revisiting some old pieces. Xiaoshuang, want to hear how I’ve been practicing?” Without waiting for a reply, she sat gracefully at the piano and placed her fingers on the keys.
The lights in the room were dim, except for a bright white spotlight over the piano. Yet even that light wasn’t as dazzling as Yan Muyu herself in that moment.
Her fingers landed on the keys, bringing forth elegant, melodic notes.
The piece was flowing and sorrowful—its sadness subtle, but lingering.
Xu Weishuang wasn’t especially well-versed in music, but even she could feel the waves of sorrow hidden in the melody.
Her gaze was drawn to Yan Muyu—the hands that danced across the keys like butterfly wings, elegant and breathtaking.
Those amber-like eyes remained lowered, but Xu Weishuang could still see the starlight glimmering in them.
This was the Yan Muyu she had known most of the time—radiant beyond compare, even stars couldn’t rival her.
As she sat quietly on the sofa, the piece came to an end. Xu Weishuang asked what it was called.
Yan Muyu didn’t answer right away. Instead, she rose gracefully and walked toward her.
She reached out and pulled Xu Weishuang into a hug.
“Tears.” Yan Muyu’s voice whispered against her ear, along with a faint, wistful smile.
In her arms was the softness of Yan Muyu’s body. The embrace was firm, yet unlike before—it didn’t feel suffocating.
Tears.
Xu Weishuang’s breath caught for a moment before returning to normal.
She suddenly couldn’t understand Yan Muyu—couldn’t make sense of her behavior today, or the expression on her face now.
That smile—gentle, loving, filled with joy—yet Xu Weishuang still sensed a sadness radiating from her.
Just like the piano piece.
Tears.
Xu Weishuang thought of this and instinctively looked into Yan Muyu’s eyes.
There was no trace of tears—only that ever-present soft smile.
In that moment, Xu Weishuang felt as if Yan Muyu were a mist—something elusive and undefined. She had thought she understood the real Yan Muyu, thought she’d seen everything.
But now, she wasn’t sure anymore.
She couldn’t help but reach out and touch beneath Yan Muyu’s eyes—wondering, curious about what truly lay beneath the surface.
Yan Muyu seemed to wear a thousand masks, mysterious enough to make anyone want to uncover them.
But once Xu Weishuang’s fingertips glided past those eyes, she let them trail down the side of Yan Muyu’s cheek without lingering.
None of it mattered anymore, did it?
She and Yan Muyu had already reached their ending.
Yan Muyu had Xu Xia. And for the first time, Xu Weishuang was beginning to consider her own future. She had found the courage to walk forward on her own.
She pushed Yan Muyu away, her icy gaze locking onto hers.
In a cold, steady tone, she delivered the final sentence of their relationship:
“Yan Muyu, let’s get a divorce.”