The Paranoid Film Queen Hooked Me, and I Fell in Love. (GL) - Chapter 23.2
By the time Shen Buhui finished filming, Xu Zhiyan still hadn’t snapped out of it.
Shen Buhui frowned, shooting a glance at Zeng Yue—who was smiling slightly and nodding at her from across the set—then shifted her attention back to Xu Zhiyan with concern. “What did Zeng Yue say to you just now?”
Xu Zhiyan rubbed her temples. “Just some confusing nonsense. Nothing important.”
Shen Buhui didn’t believe her, but seeing that Xu Zhiyan didn’t want to talk about it, she reluctantly held back from pressing further.
Her eyes flickered slightly as she recalled her earlier conversation with Zeng Yue and confirmed to herself that she hadn’t revealed anything significant. Only then did she feel at ease.
She reached out and tousled Xu Zhiyan’s hair gently. “If you can’t make sense of what irrelevant people say, then don’t dwell on it. Go get ready—the director’s calling you.”
…
Back at the hotel after filming, Zeng Yue found herself thinking about the question she had asked Shen Buhui earlier that day. What kind of expression had she worn then?
Her face had been calm, her eyes dark and deep, like an ink-black sea without end—just as they had been in many of their past encounters.
Shen Buhui hadn’t answered that question, but Zeng Yue already understood.
She still loved that person.
Submerging her head in the bathtub, Zeng Yue only emerged when the suffocating sensation of near-drowning overwhelmed her. Gasping for fresh air, she inhaled deeply, as though she had come back to life.
It doesn’t matter if you have someone you love—as long as you don’t belong to anyone.
At the same time, Shen Buhui was glaring at Zhao Yue with clear displeasure.
Zhao Yue gave an awkward smile. “The original model, Shang Qi, had to cancel the magazine shoot due to a scheduling conflict, so the magazine reached out to Zeng Yue as a last-minute replacement. I just got the news myself.”
Zeng Yue again.
Shen Buhui felt that the name—and the person—had been surfacing far too often today.
Zhao Yue couldn’t understand why Shen Buhui was particularly irritated this time. When they found out they’d be working on a film together with Zeng Yue, she hadn’t reacted like this. Why was a simple magazine shoot so aggravating now?
Annoyed, Shen Buhui tapped the table sharply. The crisp sound rang out alongside her voice: “She still hasn’t given up on me.”
Zhao Yue was mildly shocked. “It’s been over a year—how is she still not over it? I even heard recently that she’s with President Huang…”
She trailed off, but Shen Buhui thought the same. If she’s with President Huang, why is she still hung up on this?
Leaning back on the sofa, Shen Buhui took small sips from her cup, finishing the last of her ginger jujube brown sugar tea.
Over a year ago, Zeng Yue had confessed her feelings to her. But Shen Buhui’s heart had long been devoted to Xu Zhiyan, so she had simply turned her down. After that, Zeng Yue hadn’t pursued her further. Their interactions were purely for work, so Shen Buhui hadn’t given it much thought.
Or rather, apart from Xu Zhiyan, nothing and no one truly mattered to her.
She hadn’t expected Zeng Yue to ask about her private life today—and to seek out Xu Zhiyan too.
Watching Shen Buhui curled up on the sofa in deep thought, Zhao Yue couldn’t figure it out. “If you don’t want to do it, just cancel the shoot. One magazine isn’t a big deal.”
Though Zhao Yue still felt a little regret about the lost paycheck, Shen Buhui’s mood was more important.
Shen Buhui waved her hand decisively. “It’s already confirmed—let’s just go through with it.”
Zhao Yue nodded, making a mental note to be more careful when accepting jobs in the future.
Her thoughts shifted, and she asked, confused, “Buhui, since you already have someone you like, why do you seem so attached to Xu Zhiyan?”
Zhao Yue knew Shen Buhui had harbored feelings for someone for years, but she was baffled by how, in just half a month, this usually cold and detached person seemed to be completely softened by Xu Zhiyan.
She truly didn’t get it.
Shen Buhui shot her a side glance. “Are you saying I’m fickle? That I’ve committed the mistake all women are said to make—falling in love with two people at the same time?”
“…I wouldn’t dare,” Zhao Yue said, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow.
Shen Buhui let out a light scoff. Being teased like this improved her mood a bit. “Haven’t you noticed? I’ve only ever liked Xu Zhiyan.”
Zhao Yue: ???!!!
“You… you…” Zhao Yue pointed at her, fingers trembling. It took her a long moment to gather herself before exclaiming, “I didn’t know you had that kind of preference?! You like minors?!”
Shen Buhui: “……”
She rubbed her forehead, stopping Zhao Yue before she could deliver a full-on scolding. “I do not have that kind of fetish. When I first developed feelings for her, she wasn’t of age yet, but she wasn’t some naïve child either. I’m not some kind of pervert.”
Her initial attention to Xu Zhiyan hadn’t stemmed from romantic feelings. It had quietly transformed into love over time.
There was no way to explain this to Zhao Yue in detail. Besides, this was something only between her and Xu Zhiyan. Shen Buhui simply emphasized again, “I don’t have a twisted fetish. Relax—you won’t see me featured on a crime documentary.”
Hearing that, Zhao Yue finally felt at ease.
You couldn’t blame her for being cautious. In recent years, it was as if fate had it out for the entertainment industry—scandals surfaced one after another. Stars were constantly exposed for underage abuse, drug use, or tax evasion. Fans were strict, and managers were even more so, doing everything possible to keep their artists in line.
Zhao Yue might not have the power to fully control Shen Buhui, but she couldn’t just watch her walk into a trap, either.
In short—thank goodness.
Shen Buhui chuckled. “Look at you, all terrified.”
Zhao Yue replied, “Of course I’m scared! You’re my boss—my golden goose. If I don’t look out for you, who will?”
But Shen Buhui’s explanation only made her more confused.
“If you’ve had feelings for her for so long, why haven’t you made a move? I think that girl’s pretty fond of you too.”
Shen Buhui was silent for a moment before answering, “You wouldn’t understand.”
Zhao Yue had no words. Of course she didn’t understand—she’d never fallen for anyone, least of all Xu Zhiyan.
Maybe something happened today that caught Shen Buhui off guard, because, for once, she seemed inclined to open up.
“I know Xu Zhiyan. When it comes to emotions, she’s… fickle.”
Zhao Yue frowned, puzzled. She doesn’t seem that way to me?
Shen Buhui smiled faintly. “Of course you wouldn’t know. Even she herself probably hasn’t realized it.”
Zhao Yue: “……”
Now you sound proud of it.
Shen Buhui sank into memories.
She had always possessed a sharp memory. The events of her life—from the alcoholic man, to the spineless woman, to the child radiating purest malice—were etched into her heart.
But the clearest memories were of Xu Zhiyan in her childhood.
Shen Buhui clearly remembered that Xu Zhiyan had always been someone who easily changed in matters of the heart. When she was a child making friends, Xu Zhiyan often displayed a tendency to be fickle, quickly losing interest in one friend and moving on to another. As a teenager, her relationships were much the same—sparked by fleeting interests, ending swiftly in breakups. They were the naive romances of a curious child, but there was no denying how quickly her feelings changed.
Later, she became a fan of celebrities. At first, she focused on just one idol, but that quickly shifted—her favorites constantly changed. Eventually, she began shipping fictional couples, jumping from one pairing to another. The newest obsession always seemed to burn hotter than the last, even if she refused to admit it.
One instance after another made it clear to Shen Buhui: Xu Zhiyan’s emotions, whether it be friendship, love, or fandom, were fleeting.
Tilting her head back, Shen Buhui drank the final sip of tea and said coolly, “Her feelings are too unstable, and I’m not looking for fleeting pleasures.”
What Shen Buhui had always sought was enduring love—steadfast and unwavering.
Zhao Yue seemed to grasp what she meant.
“So, you’re trying to bait her?”
Like some people who believe that the unattainable is always more alluring, that what can’t be easily had is most cherished—whereas what’s easily gained is taken for granted.
Shen Buhui’s eyes lifted slightly at the corners, and she nodded in acknowledgment.
Zhao Yue leaned back with a sharp inhale. “You’re… you’re truly playing the long game.”
Could Xu Zhiyan escape Shen Buhui’s grasp? Zhao Yue thought the chances were slim.
Shen Buhui was too smart for that. And more importantly, she was carrying out her plan with a rare and genuine heart. Anyone caught in her web of affection would find it hard to leave the warmth it promised.
Shen Buhui didn’t respond to Zhao Yue’s evaluation. She simply reminded her, “Don’t let this slip.”
Zhao Yue nodded emphatically.
…
By chance, Shen Buhui had no scenes scheduled that morning. In a generous mood, the director had waved her off, approving her request to take the magazine shoot leave.
It was only then that Xu Zhiyan learned Shen Buhui’s photoshoot partner for the day was Zeng Yue.
Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to a few days ago when she had taken promotional photos with Shen Buhui—the intimate poses they had shared resurfaced vividly, leaving her too distracted to focus on studying.
Qi Helin, unusually, appeared at Xu Zhiyan’s side today, sitting with her on a small stool to observe and learn.
He waved his hand in front of her face. “What are you thinking about? Snap out of it!”
Xu Zhiyan shot him a silent glance, then quietly scooted her stool away.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Keeping my distance to avoid gossip,” Xu Zhiyan answered seriously.
Besides, she wasn’t close with Qi Helin—there was no need to sit so near.
Qi Helin raised his eyebrows. “Fine, we’ll sit like this.”
He added, “It’s rare to see you alone. Usually, you and Senior Shen are glued at the hip. It’s hard to see either of you without the other.”