Chapter 9: —It’s Yours.

Wen Chu vaguely knew he had returned, but she was too sleepy. She only murmured a few words.

He replied, and she fell back asleep.

Gu Cheng changed into a suit and went back to the company.

She woke up after six in the evening, ate, cleaned up, and then went out.

The driver stayed to pick her up and dropped her off at the Film Studio.

The studio was noisy.

They had just switched to a new set, and everyone was packing up.

Wen Chu went inside to put on makeup and change clothes.

This set was smaller than the previous one, with more than a dozen people crammed inside.

It didn’t take long for everyone to start sweating, and the various smells mixed together, making it hard to call the atmosphere pleasant.

After touching up her makeup, Wen Chu heard the Costume Designer say:

“Teacher Qi took the largest Makeup Room on the opposite side, so we’re squeezed in here.”

Wen Chu followed the resentful gaze of several actors.

The door opposite was wide open, the inside spacious. There were three dressing tables, but they served only Qi Yuan.

At this moment, she sat in a chair, a cigarette between her fingers, with several Costume Designers applying makeup and adjusting her clothes.

“I heard Director Fang Yi is coming to visit the set tonight, so Teacher Qi is in a good mood.”

A few people whispered behind her.

“Is that so? No wonder she looks so radiant.”

Their tone was both mocking and amused.

Everyone in the crew knew about the entanglement between Qi Yuan and Fang Yi, and sometimes they gossiped about it, though certainly not in front of the main subject.

After her makeup was done, the Stage Manager came to urge her. Wen Chu lifted her skirt and walked out, just as Qi Yuan came out from the opposite side.

The two of them were wearing the same Cheongsam, meeting face-to-face—one alone, the other followed by several assistants.

Qi Yuan glanced at Wen Chu, turned the corner ahead of her, and blocked the path.

Wen Chu could only wait in place. After Qi Yuan’s group passed, she walked toward the studio.

As soon as she arrived, the Stage Manager called her name. Wen Chu looked up.

The Stage Manager was holding a dessert and some food, rushing over.

Wen Chu was surprised.

“What’s this?”

The Stage Manager handed her the items.

“Your driver just brought this in and asked me to give it to you. Said Gu Shao ordered it for you.”

Wen Chu paused, noticing a note on top.

She opened it.

Gu Cheng’s handwriting was beautiful, flowing like a dragon and phoenix.

Don’t go hungry.

Wen Chu’s eyes curved, lips lifting in a smile. She accepted the items, thanked the Stage Manager, and placed them beside her seat.

Qi Yuan and her group were nearby.

Shu Mei was speaking to Qi Yuan.

Several pairs of eyes subconsciously glanced at Wen Chu.

Qi Yuan watched as Wen Chu carried the food, her gaze filled with a smile, a happiness that overflowed from within.

Shu Mei held a small fan, blowing air toward herself and Qi Yuan. Her voice was low.

“It’s nothing worth paying attention to. It should’ve been…”

Yours.

She didn’t finish the last three words, but Qi Yuan understood perfectly.

Her gaze cooled, and she looked away.

The Sub-director came forward to discuss the scene.

With Wen Chu present, they could split up the shooting. For example, Wen Chu could handle the Martial Arts Scene while Qi Yuan only needed to film the Literary Scene.

But for a few movements in the early scenes, they needed Wen Chu to help.

Wen Chu stepped in for Qi Yuan.

Qi Yuan crossed her arms behind the camera, watching Wen Chu.

“Didn’t I tell you to move left? Why are you going right?”

Wen Chu frowned and looked back at the Director.

The Director moved his lips, then raised his hand, signaling her to try moving left, though Wen Chu’s previous position was actually correct.

Without a word, Wen Chu moved left.

The Director signaled the cameraman to shift left as well, to find the right angle.

Qi Yuan tapped her arm with her finger.

“Even standing positions can be wrong. A Substitute Actress is just a Substitute Actress.”

She was on edge tonight.

Wen Chu said nothing.

The Director and others were helpless. They finished the blocking with Wen Chu, then the Deputy Director took her to film the Martial Arts Scene.

That scene was completed in one take.

Qi Yuan’s side had to pause repeatedly.

Jiang Ran kept yawning, drinking American Coffee to stay awake.

During the break, Fang Yi finally arrived.

He strolled in, and even the Director turned to greet him.

He wore a gray suit, holding a folding fan.

Many admired him; after all, he was a famous gold-medal Scriptwriter in the industry.

Qi Yuan bit her cigarette, staring at him with resentment in her eyes.

Fang Yi approached, closed his fan.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Qi Yuan narrowed her eyes.

“You could have come even later.”

Fang Yi laughed, pulled over a chair, and sat down.

“Visiting the set, does it matter when? Be glad I came at all.”

Qi Yuan held the thin cigarette between her fingers.

Seeing him stirred a fire in her heart, but she didn’t want to lose her temper in public.

“Go to my Rest Room.”

“No. I’ll just watch from here.”

Fang Yi crossed his legs, eyes scanning the set, finally fixing on Wen Chu’s area, where she was still filming Martial Arts Scenes.

Wen Chu wielded Qingping’s Soft Sword, suspended by wires, the wind whistling as she sparred in midair with other actors, each move swift and precise.

It was a long shot—her face wasn’t visible, but every movement was captured.

Fang Yi raised an eyebrow, stood, and walked over, watching Wen Chu from behind the camera.

As Scriptwriter, he naturally had influence.

“This Substitute Actress is interesting. She did well.”

The Director turned, smiling.

“Right, Scriptwriter Fang? I think so too.”

Fang Yi looked up at Wen Chu.

“She filmed the final scene of my Jianghu Hero, didn’t she? Only by filming seriously can you get the effect I want.”

The Director recognized the mention of Jianghu Hero and knew it had recently gained popularity everywhere.

Their own drama would air next year. If Jianghu Hero was a hit, it would bring them attention as well.

He praised, “It was indeed Teacher Wen who shot it. The Jianghu Hero script is excellent.”

“I wrote it—of course it’s good,” Fang Yi replied.

Behind him, Qi Yuan stubbed out her cigarette.

She stared at Fang Yi and the spot where his gaze landed.

Her suppressed anger threatened to burst.

She took a deep breath.

Fang Yi’s praise for Wen Chu reached her ears.

Qi Yuan’s anger was mixed with bitter laughter, but only coldness remained in her eyes.

She stepped forward.

Shu Mei immediately blocked her.

“We’re on set, everyone’s watching. Arguing with him over the phone is one thing, but don’t do it here. Hold back.”

Qi Yuan turned to Shu Mei.

“Did you hear what he said? This is my scene. Wen Chu is just a Substitute. How does she get all the credit?”

Shu Mei narrowed her eyes, looking at Wen Chu’s figure.

“She can’t stir up much trouble. Your priority is dealing with your relationship with Fang Yi. Decide whether to continue or end it. You need a plan. The Qi Family and our Company are strong—there’s nothing to fear.”

Qi Yuan trembled with anger, staring at Fang Yi’s back.

Memories flashed by.

Back then, they were both newcomers, but Fang Yi became famous first.

His suspense film became a hit, earning him the Best Scriptwriter Award that year, while she was just starting out, not yet established.

They grew close through work, but over the years, something changed. The feelings of their early days faded.

Fang Yi’s heart had shifted; he no longer belonged to her.

She had come to believe all men were like this, until she saw Gu Cheng and Wen Chu together for four years, unchanged, as devoted as ever.

It almost made her laugh.

Some people really could remain constant.

Shu Mei handed her phone to Qi Yuan.

“Look where he stayed last night? And these photos—I saved them all. His romantic exploits in the industry are well-documented.”

Qi Yuan glanced at the photos.

Last night, Fang Yi stayed with a young actress from another crew—a male Scriptwriter spending the night in a female Actor’s room.

What could that mean?

Not to mention the other photos—bars, parties, close together.

Qi Yuan pushed the phone away, lit another cigarette, and smoked with trembling hands.

Shu Mei comforted her, patting her shoulder.

Fang Yi finished watching Wen Chu’s scene and walked out, fanning himself.

He watched Qi Yuan smoke.

Their gazes met, both eyes empty of light.

Fang Yi laughed.

“I’ve finished my visit. I’m leaving.”

“You came to see me? More like to see someone else.”

Qi Yuan mocked.

Fang Yi didn’t answer, just smiled and left, driving his sports car out of the Film Studio.

In the second half of the night, the scenes grew heavier.

Qi Yuan had two Literary Scenes and let Wen Chu stand in for her.

Wen Chu stood in front of the camera; Qi Yuan smoked, watching her film.

Everyone could sense Qi Yuan was in a bad state—Wen Chu felt it most, as Qi Yuan picked fights several times, only held back by the Director.

Wen Chu kept track of the time.

Filming made her hungry.

She opened the food Gu Cheng had sent—her favorites, plus some drinks, and a Latte.

After eating, she returned to the studio, suspended on wires, filming new scenes.

Staying up late dulled the mind.

By the second half, many curled up and slept on set.

Qi Yuan also returned to the Rest Room.

Only Wen Chu remained, suspended midair, continuing the shoot.

Not until dawn broke did the scene end.

Wen Chu’s back was soaked with sweat.

She changed clothes, slung her bag over her shoulder, and left the studio with her phone.

She saw the morning glow in the sky—and Gu Cheng’s car.

At that moment, Wen Chu ran toward him.

Gu Cheng had just looked up from his phone and saw her running to him.

He reached out.

Wen Chu threw herself into his arms.

Gu Cheng held her tightly.

Wen Chu nestled against him.

He placed his hand on the back of her head.

“Tired?”

He asked softly.

She nodded against his neck.

“Let’s go home and sleep.”

He said quietly, opening the passenger door and helping her into the car.

The two embraced in the morning light, becoming a scene in the parking lot.

Other Actors leaving the set saw this and felt a mixture of pleasure and envy.

Qi Yuan’s Baomu Car drove to the entrance to pick her up. From inside, she also saw Gu Cheng closing the car door for Wen Chu.

As the Baomu Car drove past, her gaze lingered on Gu Cheng’s figure.

After getting in, Wen Chu dozed off.

The Porsche drove smoothly.

At that moment, her charged phone rang.

Wen Chu opened her eyes—the call was from her Mother.

She pulled herself together and answered.

“Chu Chu, just woke up?”

Ye Qifang’s gentle voice came through.

Wen Chu shook her head lightly, smiling.

“Mm, I just woke up.”

“I thought calling this early might wake you, but you answered anyway.”

Since her surgery for Ruxianai, Ye Qifang had trouble sleeping these past years, often waking early and relying on medication.

Wen Chu knew this.

She smiled.

“Mom, sometimes I wake up early, too.”

Ye Qifang chuckled.

She took her clothes to the balcony, gazing at the morning sky.

“Have you been busy lately? Did your Company arrange any roles for you? Didn’t Teacher Qi say a few years ago she’d find a role for you? Has she done it yet?”