Whoever Falls in Love First is the Dog - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: What’s this? Miss Chen is ready to fulfill her duties?

Shen Mengke seemed to have been crying non-stop these past few days. She cried while filming yesterday, cried when she couldn’t deliver the emotional scene and got scolded by Director Qing, cried while drinking at night, and even cried while tangled in bed with Chen Yanxing.

She should’ve run out of tears by now—but the pain still lingered.

Shen Mengke never thought she had any sort of natural talent. She was classically trained, a product of the academy, and even now, she still didn’t know how to act.

She couldn’t portray the feeling of being abandoned by her motherland like her character, a princess from a defeated state. All she knew was the feeling of being abandoned by her mother.

Her inability to exit the emotional state of the role surprised both Director Qing and Xu Shinian.

The production had been shooting for nearly a month. Shen Mengke was usually quick to get into character—and just as quick to snap out of it. So quick that sometimes it wasn’t Lin Shutang (her character) acting on screen—it was simply Shen Mengke performing as herself.

Xu Shinian walked over with a tissue, gently patting her back and pulling her into a soft embrace.

With the other hand, she wiped away Shen Mengke’s tears and spoke gently, like a kind and supportive senior.

Shen Mengke was simply overwhelmed. She didn’t even know why she could cry this much, especially in front of the entire crew. She felt embarrassed.

She shook her head, took the tissue from Xu Shinian, and said softly, “I’m fine.”

Xu Shinian was about to say something more, but Director Qing stopped her.

He gestured for her to give Shen Mengke some space—time to recover on her own.

He had worked with enough actors to tell, just from a glance, what kind of environment an actor needed.

Xu Shinian gave Shen Mengke’s shoulder a reassuring pat before walking away.

The room was suddenly empty.

With the door half open, it created a kind of sound barrier. The noise outside was reduced to a distant hum, muffled and indistinct.

Shen Mengke took a deep breath, sat up straight, and slowly exhaled. Only then did she wipe her tears away completely.

She looked around with blurred vision, breathing slowly.

The drama they were shooting was set in the historical palace of Jiangcheng, recreated meticulously from real historical references. Even nighttime scenes were filmed without artificial lights.

Once the door was closed, the only light source in the room was the small candle in front of her. As she sat at its center, the room darkened in an ever-widening circle until everything was swallowed by blackness.

She sighed, blew out the candle, stood up, and walked out.

As soon as she stepped out, Xiao He came rushing over.

She handed Shen Mengke a water bottle and her phone. “Director Qing said you’re done for the night. They’re shooting the last scene now—it’s the envoy’s secret meeting with the young monarch, Xu Shinian and Jiang Ranjan’s part. Once they finish that, we wrap.”

“He also said you should go home and get some good rest. These recent scenes have been emotionally draining. But Xu Shinian said she wants to see you after.”

Shen Mengke nodded, glanced at her phone, and said, “You can go ahead. I’m going to meet Yuan Yushan with Xu Shinian.”

“Yuan Yushan?” Xiao He blinked in surprise. Everyone knew Shen Mengke had a crush on Yuan Yushan.

But—

“You’re meeting her with Xu Shinian?”

Xiao He was stammering, but Shen Mengke understood. Yuan Yushan was reclusive. Aside from filming, she rarely appeared in public, and there had been no reports of her being close to anyone.

Shen Mengke smiled. “Xu Shinian doesn’t need to lie to me. It’s late, go on home.”

Xiao He hesitated but nodded. “Okay. Call me if anything happens.”

Shen Mengke nodded and watched her leave. She then sat down and replied to Chen Yanxing’s message.

Shen Mengke: “Just got done filming, missed your message. Let’s meet tomorrow.”

Chen Yanxing replied quickly: “Still filming this late?”

Shen Mengke paused, realizing it was already 8 p.m.

She smiled faintly and teased: “What’s this? Miss Chen is ready to fulfill her duties?”

Then quickly added: “I’ve got plans tonight.”

Chen Yanxing looked at her message, then turned to Ren Zhou, who was inspecting her new apartment. “Ah Zhou, can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“If someone… says they have plans at night—what kind of plans would that be?”

Ren Zhou raised an eyebrow, turning back with a sly smile. “Someone? Who are we talking about?”

Chen Yanxing frowned slightly. “Someone… I’m kind of involved with.”

“What kind of involvement?”

“A contractual relationship… Never mind. You wouldn’t get it. When are you leaving?”

Ren Zhou narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I get it? What kind of plans could someone have at night? It’s not likely to be a purely friendly hangout, is it? And why should I leave?”

Chen Yanxing ignored the first half of that and said, “It’s late. You staying here? This place barely fits one person.”

Ren Zhou laughed and walked over. “Miss Chen, have you forgotten whose birthday it is today? And really, you’re going to stay here? It’s so… basic.”

She glanced around the small rental apartment—barely furnished, with just a mattress on the floor.

“I’m broke,” Chen Yanxing shrugged.

Ren Zhou laughed. “Miss Chen, boss Chen, if you’re broke, then the whole world’s bankrupt.”

“Enough with the sarcasm. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

Ren Zhou gave her an exasperated look. “Were you not listening to me at all today?”

She leaned in and shouted dramatically, “DU JUNYI! Birthday! TODAY!”

Chen Yanxing winced, pushing her away. She finally remembered Ren Zhou mentioning that earlier.

They were close in age and grew up in the same circles—though Chen Yanxing, being often absent from Jiangcheng and having had a difficult childhood, didn’t have many friends. Ren Zhou was one of the few.

“I’m not going,” she said flatly.

“You are going,” Ren Zhou insisted, pulling her up. “I already told the group you’re coming.”

“Plus, there’s no way I’m going alone to face Ren Qi!”

Chen Yanxing didn’t resist being pulled up.

Ren Qi was Ren Zhou’s sister. The two never got along—though their rivalry wasn’t nearly as hostile as the one between Chen Yanxing and Chen Xingxing.

“Who else will be there?”

Ren Zhou rolled her eyes. “Did you not check the group chat? Not too many people—it’s low-key tonight. The big party’s in three days. Chen Yanqing, Ren Qi, and… you know, those ones.”

Chen Yanxing didn’t need her to finish the sentence. “Those ones” referred to the rowdiest, most chaotic troublemakers in their circle—Chen Xingxing and her cronies.

Hearing that made her want to go even less.

“You could just not go,” she offered.

“And miss Du Junyi’s birthday? No way.” Ren Zhou pulled her toward the door. “Where’s your key? Hurry up and change. Let’s go!”

While Chen Yanxing changed her shoes, Ren Zhou explained quickly, “Word is, Du Junyi’s grandmother doesn’t have long. Her mom’s never involved in family affairs, always off touring. The rest of the Du family has been eyeing the main seat for years.”

“Right now, Du Junyi is the only one holding it together. All the major families in Jiangcheng are betting on her. If she makes it through this, her status will be untouchable.”

“Getting close to her now could really pay off.”

“You’re betting on Du Junyi too?”

Ren Zhou raised a brow. “It’s Du Junyi we’re talking about.”

If Chen Yanqing was the outstanding one in their generation, then Du Junyi was extraordinary—completely surpassing her peers.

She had sharp business acumen, decisiveness, courage, and strategic thinking. Even when dealing with elders in business, she was poised, capable, and respectful without being deferential.

Du Junyi had leaped ahead academically and professionally, entering the market earlier than most and quickly establishing her influence.

If the Du family weren’t so divided, if her mother’s generation hadn’t failed to maintain control, they could have surpassed the Chen family.

But fate wasn’t on their side. The Du family lacked someone like Chen Zhiyu, and unfortunately, Chen Yanqing could still rival Du Junyi in some arenas.

Everyone saw the Du family as unlucky—but no one doubted Du Junyi’s potential.

Ren Zhou said, “Chen Yanxing, you are her lucky break.”

Ren Zhou had always placed blind faith in her childhood friend. Chen Yanxing found it over-the-top but still followed her to the gathering.

Meanwhile, Shen Mengke noticed Chen Yanxing had disappeared again. She frowned at her phone, took a deep breath, and reminded herself they weren’t even officially dating. Chen Yanxing was the legendary second daughter of the Chen family—out of reach.

“Mengke!”

It was almost two hours later when Xu Shinian finally finished filming. It was already late, the sky completely dark.

Hearing her name, Shen Mengke looked up to see Xu Shinian waving at her, already out of costume. “Let’s go.”

Shen Mengke nodded, hurriedly finished the last bite of a small bun, and stood up to greet Director Qing.

As she turned to leave, she noticed Jiang Ranjan pulling Director Qing aside. She couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Xu Shinian was your classic rich second-gen in the entertainment world—well-connected, generous, and sociable—but her reputation was messy.

Then again, reputations in showbiz were fragile. Even a hint of a relationship sparked endless rumors. Shen Mengke herself was living proof of that.

Once in Xu Shinian’s car, she was handed a black brocade box. “For you,” said Xu Shinian.

Shen Mengke was stunned, accepting the box with both hands. “What is it?”

“Open it,” she replied with a smile.

Hesitantly, Shen Mengke did. Xu Shinian even turned on the car light to help her see clearly.

Inside was a brooch—similar to the one Chen Yanxing had given her, but not quite the same.

It was also a design of an orchid, but the structure and arrangement of diamonds were completely different.

This one was black—far more striking than Chen Yanxing’s understated white version—but it looked cheaper, less luxurious.

Good things show their worth in comparison. In that moment, Shen Mengke realized the 790,000-yuan brooch really was worth it.

She stared at it in silent contemplation, but to Xu Shinian, she looked stunned.

Smiling modestly, Xu Shinian said, “It’s our first time working together. You’re a very spirited actress—I really like your vibe.”

Shen Mengke looked up at her—spirited. That had become a cliché compliment in this industry. Whenever an actor lacked actual achievements, people praised their appearance, spirit, and work ethic—never their results.

She smiled politely but didn’t respond. To her, it felt more like mockery.

Oblivious to Shen Mengke’s discomfort, Xu Shinian continued, “This is a membership pin for Yaozhou.”

Yaozhou—a private club. Shen Mengke had heard of it. Many influencers posted pictures from there, but she’d never had the chance to go.

Just being able to enter Yaozhou was brag-worthy—like a badge of honor.

Only true VIPs had direct access. Entry was by invitation only.

Shen Mengke hesitated. From what she knew, members could bring guests. She didn’t need her own pin.

But before she could say anything, Xu Shinian leaned in and, without asking, took the pin from the box and pinned it to her chest.

They were very close. Shen Mengke could smell Xu Shinian’s perfume—strong and a little choking. She instinctively held her breath.

As she looked up, their eyes met—and for a moment, she felt as though Xu Shinian’s gaze was predatory.

Like she was the prey, and Xu Shinian the experienced hunter.

She quickly looked away.

From the start, Xu Shinian had been nice to her. Shen Mengke noticed but didn’t dare respond.

Xu Shinian was an actor—and actors were the best at pretending. Shen Mengke was still inexperienced and couldn’t tell who was real and who was just acting. So, she kept her distance.

She preferred sincerity from non-actors—raw and unpolished. Like Chen Yanxing. If she liked you, she showed it. If she didn’t, she made it clear. Even if she was faking it, it never felt this real.

The rejection she meant to voice got stuck in her throat. In the end, Shen Mengke only lowered her eyes and said quietly, “Thank you.”

She had to admit—she had her own selfish motives.

No matter how pretty she was, looks alone weren’t enough.

Without resources, she had nothing.

She needed a stepping stone.

Xu Shinian was one.

So was Chen Yanxing.