Wen Chu was pulled back by him and lifted her eyes to look at him.
“Yes, originally it was said to be her, but Director Tang asked me to audition, I don’t even know why…”
Her voice lowered somewhat, and seeing his expression, suddenly a wave of emotion surged within her. She asked back, “So, this role can only be hers, and I can’t even hope for it?”
Gu Cheng was momentarily stunned. He instinctively replied, “No, Wen Chu.”
But once emotions rise, they’re hard to suppress. She spoke softly, “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“Wen Chu, I…” Gu Cheng gripped her wrist tightly. Wen Chu twisted her wrist and instinctively stepped back. Her voice was very low:
“Actually, I know myself — even if Director Tang lets me audition, I’m not necessarily going to get it. There’s that contract blocking everything, I can’t do anything. But I’m still very happy that someone noticed me, gave me a chance.”
She looked at Gu Cheng: “But I still want to try. Even if you think I shouldn’t, Gu Cheng, I’m really afraid of comparisons. I’m scared of the day when I and Qi Yuan are placed on a scale together, and you have to choose.”
Gu Cheng’s pupils constricted slightly.
Wen Chu saw his expression, and in her mind, the scene from eight years ago floated up again — when they danced together.
At that time, she was drinking alone in the corner, worried about her mother’s illness, but the moment of their dancing felt beautiful. He held Qi Yuan in his arms, spinning her round and round, a smile playing at the corner of his eyes. She remembered then, he was genuinely gentle.
Her mind also recalled the image of him giving Qi Yuan a cigarette, the light shining on both of them, and the heavy atmosphere by the bar where the two had spoken.
She even remembered Xi Ning’s words — that they were from two different worlds, and once it came down to choosing between them, who would he pick?
She had no confidence. Not a shred.
In fact, all along, the kindness he showed Qi Yuan she had attributed to the good relationship between their two families, and that she herself had only entered their lives halfway through.
So whether it was him sending a lawyer’s letter to Xi Ning because of Qi Yuan, or remembering those tiny things like bringing her a cigarette, or the celebration party when Qi Yuan broke up — celebrating her escape from emotional entanglements — she never judged or quibbled.
Because their bond was truly close, she dared not compare herself to Qi Yuan.
He really was very good to her. He gave her a home in Jing City, a place that sheltered her from the storms outside, a place where she could take refuge.
In the long periods of Qi Yuan’s neglect, his gentleness, care, and love allowed her to keep holding on.
Gu Cheng squeezed her wrist tightly, his fingertip brushing the tears at the corner of her eyes: “Wen Chu…”
Wen Chu dodged slightly, wiped her eyes, moved the cake on the table closer, and said, “Let’s eat cake.”
Gu Cheng stared at her back for a few seconds, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, softly saying, “Give me some time.”
Wen Chu felt his warmth.
She whispered, “Alright.”
Though she didn’t know exactly what he meant by “give me some time,” she had always felt that drifting through Jing City, having him was enough. Truly enough.
Even if Qi Yuan was untrustworthy, bullied her repeatedly, acted high and mighty, and looked down on her, she could endure it.
As long as she had Gu Cheng, that was enough.
***
The cake was cut and shared between them. Gu Cheng didn’t like sweets, but he said nothing this time.
Wen Chu saw that even though he didn’t like it, he still accompanied her in eating.
Her heart softened a little, even if it wasn’t that bright.
After the cake, she nestled into his arms. Gu Cheng bent his head to kiss her, his tongue tasting sweet with cream.
Wen Chu hooked her arms around his neck, tilted her head up, her fingertips tracing into his collar. Later, he loosened his shirt, pulled her close, and she blushed deeply, her chest rising and falling as she gripped the sofa, wrinkling it.
He kissed her lips silently, with a hint of destructive desire.
Afterwards, Gu Cheng carried Wen Chu to the bathroom. When they came out, Wen Chu was exhausted.
She lazily lay on the edge of the bed, picked up her phone, and opened it. It showed that Director Tang had accepted her friend request and sent a message.
Wen Chu opened the message.
Tangren Studio: Teacher Wen, are you free tomorrow morning at nine?
I’d like to meet.
Wen Chu paused, then replied a few seconds later: Director Tang, where shall we meet?
Tangren Studio: Sunset Cafe in Nancheng.
Wen Chu: Okay, I will be there on time.
After replying, Wen Chu put down her phone, glanced back at Gu Cheng who was working with a tablet on his lap. She turned and nestled into his arms.
Gu Cheng freed one hand to wrap around her and tucked the blanket around her.
Wen Chu had shot a full night of scenes the night before, had a delayed wrap in the morning, and with Director Tang’s matter, her emotions had been stirred up and she couldn’t sleep.
But she still had a night shoot ahead. It was already past three in the afternoon, and she was getting sleepy.
Gu Cheng hadn’t gone back to the company but stayed at home with her.
On the tablet screen, aside from reply emails, there was communication with the CEO of Xingyao — he was a director on their board.
At sunset, Wen Chu was woken by the alarm, groggily got up, and collapsed into his embrace. Gu Cheng gently stroked her hair, “Why don’t you just take a day off? Rest tonight.”
Wen Chu shook her head: “Tonight is the continuation of last night’s scenes, almost done. Taking a day off would delay progress.”
Gu Cheng silently helped her put on clothes. Wen Chu was still very sleepy, holding her hair aside and feeling his fingertips brush her scalp while he helped her put on underwear.
Her body shivered slightly as he stood behind and fastened the buttons. He took a skirt and slipped it on her, then she blushed and went to the bathroom to freshen up.
Coming out again, her long hair was tied up. Gu Cheng put on his shirt and took her hand to go out for a meal. The housekeeper arrived silently and quietly prepared dinner.
Seeing the rare sight of them eating at home together, she simmered a delicious soup and cooked Wen Chu’s favorite dishes.
Having indulged in cake that afternoon, Wen Chu ate lightly for dinner. Gu Cheng coaxed her to drink more soup, but she only ate one sugar-controlled pill and didn’t dare drink too much. In the end, Gu Cheng had to finish the last sips for her.
Afterward, he grabbed the car keys and drove her to Dongcheng Film City.
Night had fallen, and everywhere the lights were bright. The car stopped. Wen Chu unbuckled her seatbelt. Gu Cheng glanced at her and leaned in to kiss her lips gently: “I’ve prepared some food and coffee in the trunk. Remember to eat tonight.”
Wen Chu looked into his eyes and nodded: “Okay.”
After getting out, she carried the items he prepared, including an expensive mini fan, and entered the studio. Qi Yuan hadn’t arrived yet. The door to the makeup room was firmly closed.
The makeup artist had specifically kept it free for Wen Chu to get ready first. The news that Director Tang had asked Wen Chu to audition had already spread at the studio during the day.
Everyone’s looks toward Wen Chu changed somewhat. Even the makeup artist treated her more specially, though she had always been kind to Wen Chu before — this time it was even more obvious.
Wen Chu could feel the curious, envious gazes from others, mostly envy, especially the change in their attitude toward her — no longer ignoring her.
The assistant handed her a glass of water. Though he said nothing, his attitude was clearly different.
Such subtle shifts, all before filming had even started — this kind of butterfly effect was already taking place. Wen Chu lowered her eyes, allowing the makeup artist to work. Xi Ning had been right.
In this circle, adjusting with the wind is an everyday occurrence.
She gripped her phone tightly.
Watching Wen Chu’s figure disappear into the studio, Gu Cheng returned to the car and started the engine, driving out of the film city gate. A nanny van passed by. Qi Yuan rested her chin on her hand, looking out the window, noticing Gu Cheng’s sports car.
She also saw his hand gripping the steering wheel, the other rolled-up sleeve revealing a blue-veined hand.
She rested her face on her palm and stared.
***
Tonight’s scenes were particularly difficult, mostly because Shu Mei was watching closely, and the director was much stricter — for reasons unknown. But Wen Chu gritted her teeth and finished.
Qi Yuan had kept her spirits up the whole time and seemed to perform well. People on set whispered quietly: “Get rid of the love-struck brain, and your mind clears up. Teacher Qi really has talent.”
Wen Chu said nothing, keeping her head down to film.
The sky lightened. The busy night shoot was over. Wen Chu changed out of her soaked costume, quickly wiped herself, changed into a dress, and left the studio.
Uncle Chen came to pick her up. Wen Chu said she wouldn’t go home for a meal and would have breakfast outside first.
Uncle Chen drove her to a private restaurant. Wen Chu liked the breakfast there; Gu Cheng had brought her a few times before.
She leisurely ate breakfast, then asked Uncle Chen to drive her to Sunset Cafe in Nancheng. It took a bit of time to get there.
Wen Chu arrived early.
After getting out of the car, she adjusted her skirt, carried her bag, and walked in to find a window seat to quietly wait for Director Tang.
At 8:50, Director Tang arrived wearing traditional Tang clothing. Wen Chu saw him and instinctively stood up, “Director Tang.”
Director Tang smiled and raised a hand: “Sit, sit, don’t be nervous.”
Wen Chu was naturally a little nervous but smiled and calmed herself, handing him the menu on the table: “Director Tang, what would you like to drink?”
She called the waiter over.
Director Tang casually ordered a latte.
After the waiter left with the menu, Director Tang looked at Wen Chu seriously. Up close, she did resemble Qi Yuan by about sixty percent, but her features were softer, with a smile on her lips. Qi Yuan, when not smiling, carried a high and aloof demeanor.
They say that one’s face changes with their status and position. Qi Yuan was born high-born and debuted at the peak of her career; her status enhanced her appearance.
Her temperament naturally developed alongside, which was why her face lacked a certain warmth. She didn’t have a particularly approachable aura.
People in the industry all said Qi Yuan was professional — and she was — but they also knew her temper; being high and mighty tended to hurt others.
The Wen Chu before him, however, Director Tang thought, was a jade waiting to be carved. Particularly given her persistence with Wei Ya, though that wasn’t the main reason he invited her to audition.
The real reason was the heroine’s final sword dance. He had privately messaged a blogger from the Bu Luo group asking if they knew any inside story — was the heroine’s final sword dance performed by Qi Yuan, who had a waist injury?
The reply was: No, it was performed by Qi Yuan’s stunt double, Wen Chu.
Only then did he realize.
He smiled and said, “The other night I visited the Qingping Chronicle set, mainly to see you. Today I wanted to talk to you — are you interested in auditioning for Wind and Moon at Dusk?”
Wen Chu tightened her grip on the coffee cup, looked at Director Tang, and nodded, “Of course I’m willing.”
Director Tang looked a bit pleased, saying, “As far as I know, you also graduated from Jingshi Film Academy. How did you end up becoming a stunt double?”
Wen Chu pressed her lips, speaking quietly: “There was some trouble at home at the time and money was needed. Sister Shu Mei happened to offer me the opportunity, so I took it.”
“I see. That’s a pity — being a stunt double for so long. Now that you’re twenty-seven, the choices for roles will be somewhat limited. But the role in Wind and Moon at Dusk fits well. The original character is about twenty-four, so a three-year difference isn’t a problem.”
Listening to him, looking at Director Tang’s gentle expression, she asked her doubt, “Director Tang, could you tell me how you knew about me?”
“That’s something I’ll tell you once you pass the audition.”
Director Tang smiled playfully, teasing her. He opened the original Wind and Moon at Dusk novel on his phone and placed it on the table, saying, “Before the audition, I hope you can read the original novel, understand the character, then come to audition.”
Director Tang’s approach was different from other directors she had met before. Most only handed out the script. From what she knew, Qi Yuan rarely read the original novels.
Wen Chu glanced down, not touching her phone — that would be rude. She looked up and said, “Okay.”
Director Tang smiled, sipping his coffee.
“Then I look forward to seeing you on screen.”
Wen Chu’s fingertips stiffened. She unconsciously pressed the coffee cup. Looking at Director Tang, she hesitated before saying, “Director Tang, there’s something I need to tell you.”
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