The Paranoid Film Queen Hooked Me, and I Fell in Love. (GL) - Chapter 15

The two of them stood at opposite ends of the long corridor, gazing at each other.

Xu Zhiyan was utterly dazzled, caught off guard by an overwhelming sense of awe.

She unconsciously clenched her throat, no longer feeling the tingling on her tongue, but the dryness in her throat was impossible to ignore.

What she didn’t realize was how she looked at that moment—dressed in a meticulously buttoned black military uniform, exuding an air of strict composure. Every button was fastened up to the collar, her white fingers contrasting starkly against the dark fabric, radiating an icy elegance.

That same pale hand briefly traced her own slender neck, the sharp arch of her brows tightening slightly as she narrowed her clear, piercing eyes. The subtle motion carried an inexplicable allure.

Shen Buhui’s breath hitched for a fleeting moment.

A wave of emotions surged within her, colliding chaotically in her chest. She turned her gaze away in a near-panicked retreat.

To Xu Zhiyan, it simply looked like Miss Shen had given her a cold glance before indifferently turning away.

A pang of disappointment settled in her chest.

I didn’t even do anything…

With that one action, whatever strange thoughts had surfaced in her mind were swiftly brushed aside. Xu Zhiyan lowered her gaze, standing still as if nothing had happened.

Yet, when Shen Buhui finally approached with her graceful, swaying steps, Xu Zhiyan couldn’t help but speak.

“Miss Shen…”

She didn’t even know what she wanted to say—just that she wanted to call out to her.

Shen Buhui smoothed her hair behind her ear and responded with a soft, “Hm?”

Her gaze, deep and unreadable, rested on Xu Zhiyan, as if waiting for her to continue.

Xu Zhiyan bit her lip, debating whether to ask if she remembered what had happened last night.

But that question felt too awkward.

After all… nothing really happened.

Instead, she blinked and said, “You look beautiful in this outfit.”

For a brief moment, a hint of pink dusted the corners of Shen Buhui’s eyes.

She lowered her hand from her temple and, without warning, hooked a single finger under Xu Zhiyan’s tightly cinched belt.

A slight pull.

A sudden rush of cool air.

Then, just as unhurriedly, she let go.

A soft snap rang out as the belt recoiled into place.

“You look beautiful too.”

The air between them seemed to shift subtly, thickening with something unspoken.

A thin layer of sweat formed at the tip of Xu Zhiyan’s nose—so faint it was barely noticeable.

She instinctively leaned back just a fraction, trying to put some space between them. But before she could ask the question that had been lingering in her mind all day—

“Miss Xu, Miss Shen! We’re ready to shoot!”

A loud call from the photographer shattered the moment.

Shen Buhui’s expression flickered with brief annoyance, but she quickly composed herself. Taking a slow breath, she turned back to Xu Zhiyan.

“What were you about to ask?”

Xu Zhiyan shook her head abruptly. “Let’s finish the shoot first!”

Then, without waiting for a response, she practically fled, as if something was chasing her.

Shen Buhui watched her retreating figure in silence.

Her fingers absentmindedly stroked the smooth fabric of her handkerchief, her thumb brushing over her own index finger—clean, dry, warm.

So very different from the sensation of last night.

She lifted her hand, pressing a single fingertip against her lips, lost in thought.

I still want to hear her sweetly call me ‘Jiejie’…

So I can’t keep avoiding this.

Once both of them were ready, the photographer adjusted the lights and guided them into different poses.

“That’s right… Miss Shen, move in a little closer. Yes, lean your back against her chest.”

Shen Buhui followed the direction effortlessly, letting her body relax against the plush chair.

Xu Zhiyan wrapped an arm around her slender waist, the soft curve of her body fitting against her own.

A slight tension stiffened her spine.

The photographer frowned.

“Miss Xu, you need to relax. Lean back a little—make it look effortless, more languid.”

Xu Zhiyan tried her best to follow the instruction, but how could she possibly relax in this position?

Their proximity was suffocating.

So close that every breath she took was filled with Shen Buhui’s subtle fragrance.

How could she possibly act natural like this?

Finally, when the shot was done, she exhaled deeply in relief.

Shen Buhui, noticing this, smiled lightly. “Am I too heavy? Sitting on you like this—was it exhausting?”

Xu Zhiyan glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention, then quickly shook her head. “Not at all, Miss Shen.”

And yet, despite her firm denial, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to the sensation of that moment—

The way their bodies had pressed together, with no space in between.

The way her arms had wrapped around that impossibly soft, delicate waist.

A soft blush crept up Xu Zhiyan’s cheeks. It wasn’t until she felt the heat rising that she snapped back to reality.

What am I even thinking?! It was just a photoshoot!

I must be losing my mind these past couple of days—my thoughts keep drifting in all sorts of strange directions.

She stole a glance at Shen Buhui, but for some reason, found herself unable to meet her gaze directly.

Shen Buhui tilted her head slightly, a trace of curiosity flickering in her eyes.

Then, as if realizing something, a knowing smile curved her lips.

She pretended not to notice, giving Xu Zhiyan enough time to regain her composure.

Yet, the quiet joy bubbling in her chest was impossible to conceal.

The next pose required them to stand facing each other. Without the chair from before, Xu Zhiyan felt noticeably more at ease.

But when the photographer described the pose, she was momentarily stunned.

It was the exact same motion Shen Buhui had made earlier—the one she had done while complimenting Xu Zhiyan.

A slight hook of her finger, tugging at the leather belt cinched around a slender waist. The stark contrast of black and white. Their bodies barely touching, with just the right amount of distance. Half-lidded eyes, an unmistakable air of flirtation.

A flush crept up behind Xu Zhiyan’s ears.

That same sensation from before—the heat, the rush, the quiet thrill—came surging back.

Only this time, they weren’t alone.

This time, they were in front of cameras, in front of an entire crew, performing these gestures with full awareness of an audience.

Her heart pounded violently, so fast she swore it might burst out of her chest.

Luckily, the shoot for this pose went smoothly.

Only one final set remained.

Once they completed this last sequence, they would change outfits and move on to another theme.

Xu Zhiyan clenched her slightly damp palms, steadying herself.

Her face was still tinged with a faint flush.

Yuanyuan, mistaking it for the heat, quickly handed her a cup of tea.

“Zhiyan, have some iced tea to cool down.”

“Mm.” She took it without explaining, gulping down a generous sip.

Meanwhile, Shen Buhui, relying on years of self-discipline and refined acting skills, suppressed the emotions she shouldn’t be feeling. Outwardly, she remained perfectly composed.

It was Xiao Fang, sitting beside her, who muttered under her breath, “This movie’s promotional shoot is way too intimate.”

She wasn’t even the one in front of the camera, yet just watching them made her heart race.

That director really knows how to pose them.

More importantly, the atmosphere between them was absolutely electrifying.

Shen Buhui remained outwardly unbothered, but the way she tightly gripped the handkerchief in her lap betrayed her true thoughts.

Xiao Fang sighed. “Good thing Yue-jie isn’t here. Otherwise, she’d be going on and on about CP rumors again.”

At the mention of Zhao Yue’s tendency to overanalyze, Shen Buhui couldn’t help but nod in agreement. If Zhao Yue were here, she would definitely start fussing over this supposed couple dynamic.

But then, Shen Buhui recalled the last time they had trended online—how the comments had been full of skepticism and dismissiveness.

Her lips pressed into a slight frown.

How do we not match?

She thought to herself.

But it wasn’t as if her thoughts alone mattered. With a silent exhale, Shen Buhui smoothed out the creases in her handkerchief and returned to the set.

“I-I… isn’t this pose a little too intimate?” Xu Zhiyan asked, eyes wide.

The moment she realized she was about to hold Shen Buhui’s delicate chin and pose for a kiss, her nerves skyrocketed.

The photographer waved a hand dismissively. “Your characters are already deeply intimate. We’re not asking you to actually kiss—just pose for it. You can handle that.”

She knew Xu Zhiyan was still adjusting to performing such gestures in front of a crowd. As a newcomer, it wasn’t easy, so she patiently reassured her.

Afterward, she turned to Shen Buhui, who remained unreadable.

“Miss Shen, you might need to guide her a little.”

“Mm.” Shen Buhui nodded, her tone as calm as ever.

“Alright. Let’s begin.”

There was no escaping what was set in stone. Xu Zhiyan could only brace herself and do her best.

Lowering her voice, she murmured to Shen Buhui beside her, “Pardon me, Miss Shen.”

Shen Buhui’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, her response vague. “Mm…”

In this pose, Xu Zhiyan was in control. The photographer wanted a scene brimming with tension—two people locked in a standoff, sparks flying, an atmosphere charged with raw intensity and undeniable allure.

Having never done a shoot like this before, Xu Zhiyan steeled herself, giving the photographer a small nod before beginning.

In an instant, her expression shifted, and with it, her entire presence.

Gone was her usual warmth. Instead, she exuded sharpness and command, like a blade unsheathed—radiating a chilling edge, cutting through the air with an icy precision. Yet, the contrast was stark. Her gloved fingers, wrapped in sleek black leather, grasped the delicate curve of Shen Buhui’s chin. A slow, deliberate touch—tracing over the pale skin with an unmistakable sense of possession. Black and white intertwined, a striking collision of dominance and surrender, restraint and temptation.

Cold and desire intertwined.

Seduction and danger clashed.

The photographer’s eyes were locked onto the scene, her finger pressing the shutter repeatedly, capturing every moment.

“Now, move into the kissing pose,” she instructed, never taking her eyes off the screen.

Xu Zhiyan’s gaze flickered slightly, but she quickly obeyed the director’s guidance.

Shen Buhui’s face, tilted upward by force, remained unreadable. Her expression was impassive, her dark eyes tranquil, as if untouched by the intimacy of the moment.

Xu Zhiyan couldn’t tell if this was the result of her exceptional acting, perfectly embodying the character’s indifference, or if it was simply… who she truly was.

But there was no time to dwell on the thought.

Lowering herself further, Xu Zhiyan felt the crisp military fabric press against the soft silk of the cheongsam. The contrast of textures sent a shiver down her spine.

Her gloved fingers remained firm on Shen Buhui’s chin, her own lips inching closer.

The distance between them shrank.

Closer.

And closer still.

Their breaths intermingled, the warmth of their exhales wrapping around them like an invisible thread.

Heat pooled between them, lingering in the space where their lips hovered—just barely apart.

Xu Zhiyan held herself back, summoning every ounce of restraint, every fragment of control, to embody Lin Yin to perfection.

Her gaze was laced with disdain, yet beneath the surface swirled something far more potent—a storm of emotions, thick with an unnamed, unshakable intensity.

Yet, the woman in front of her remained detached.

Despite the way her body softened against Xu Zhiyan’s hold, despite the undeniable tension pulling them together, Shen Buhui’s eyes remained distant, indifferent—as though she were an outsider to the very moment unfolding between them.

So distant. So untouchable.

Was this still acting?

Or was it something else entirely?

Something inside Xu Zhiyan burned—hot and unrelenting. A fire licking at the edges of her composure, pushing, clawing, desperate to break free.

She closed her eyes for a brief second—

And in the next moment, her lips pressed down.

A firestorm of desire and destruction ignited.

Burning.

Unstoppable.

Consuming everything in its path.