Acting Out of Character (GL) - Chapter 9

Luo Jingyi didn’t sleep well; she had a habit of being unable to adjust to unfamiliar beds.

Even though Xiao Zhao had replaced the hotel’s sheets, covers, pillows, carpets, and toiletries with Luo Jingyi’s personal belongings, as long as she was in a hotel, she could feel herself surrounded by the lingering, grimy, and foreign aura left behind by others. It would take time to adapt.

At six in the morning, Luo Jingyi woke up on time. After some light stretching, she took out her laptop. This suite included a study where Xiao Zhao had already confirmed the height of the desk and chair were a perfect fit for her. She placed the laptop on the desk, facing a wide window that overlooked green mountains shrouded in thick mist—a timely relief for her dry eyes, which suffered year-round from blue light exposure.

Morning was Luo Jingyi’s golden hour for writing. Her mind was sharp, and her creative desire was strongest in the early hours, a routine she had maintained for years. Not only was it efficient, but it often sparked unexpected inspiration.

When her thoughts slowed in the afternoon, she usually watched movies or read; if she felt tired, she’d take a fifteen to thirty-minute nap. In the evening, she exercised, showered, and then spent the night replying to friends’ WeChat messages or video calling her mother. Since entering the industry, this set of habits had remained virtually unchanged.

Luo Jingyi was highly self-disciplined. She followed her own pace and loathed being disturbed. Consequently, she remained single to this day. Being difficult to serve was one reason; another, more important factor was that she refused to coordinate her life with anyone else’s rhythm.

She was exceptionally good at observing people. No matter how well a man or woman hid themselves, she could easily detect their flaws. Once she spotted a flaw, she lost interest and distanced herself. Thus, at thirty-four, she had no desire for a partner and poured all her energy into work. Romance offered no sense of achievement, but a script did.

Luo Jingyi liked her current life. However, her professional path had hit a bottleneck. The script she was currently writing had seemed promising to both her and her investors during the early stages—a topic likely to garner attention, awards, and steady box office returns. Unexpectedly, she had hit a major hurdle. A faulty logical chain is fatal to a story. She needed to tear down everything she had built and reconstruct the narrative from scratch. The script had become a “strange child,” and she didn’t know where to begin.

The hotel room Xiao Zhao found was supposed to be a quiet environment for writing. But when she opened the laptop, she spent an hour deleting and revising without producing a single complete sentence. Looking at the messy document, Luo Jingyi took a deep breath, stopped forcing it, and closed the laptop.

After returning from breakfast at the hotel restaurant, Luo Jingyi found Feng Yunxin and several staff members sitting in the lobby. Seeing her, Feng Yunxin jumped up immediately.

“My goodness, I sent you so many WeChat messages! Why didn’t you reply? I thought you were lost!”

Feng Yunxin was as boisterous as ever. Luo Jingyi headed toward the elevator, saying as she walked, “I just went down for breakfast and didn’t bring my phone. Weren’t we supposed to meet at eight? Why are you so early?”

“Because I was worried about you! I haven’t seen you in two months and missed you, so I came early to pick you up.”

As they entered the elevator, Luo Jingyi gave her a sidelong glance. “You’d better actually be worried about me.”

In reality, Feng Yunxin was terrified the “Grand Empress” would cause some trouble at the last minute; if something went wrong, she wanted time to adjust. She kept this thought to herself.

While the staff waited downstairs, Feng Yunxin followed Luo Jingyi up to the room. Once inside, Luo Jingyi changed clothes and prepared to leave with only a small bag. Feng Yunxin stopped her.

“Why don’t we just bring all your luggage and stay with the crew? If anything happens, I can look after you.”

“With the crew? You mean Li Village? You want me to live in the village?”

Luo Jingyi fired off three rhetorical questions. Feng Yunxin quickly countered: “If you agree, I’ll arrange a villa for you immediately! You’ll live there alone—clean, bright, and spacious!”

“A villa? Compared to this place?”

“…It’s a bit of a step down.” Feng Yunxin relied on her silver tongue to survive. Her brain spun faster than a top. “But wouldn’t it be good to spend every day with a group of young people?”

Luo Jingyi put on her sun hat, sunglasses, and cooling sleeves. “How would that be good?”

“You can feel the vitality of youth every day! It prevents aging!”

The corner of Luo Jingyi’s mouth twitched. “To prevent aging, young people are useless. Sun protection, however, is useful.”

Feng Yunxin: “…”

On the way to Li Village, Feng Yunxin asked if the “kid” who picked her up last night had served her well.

Luo Jingyi: “Listen to you, as if I’m some feudal landlord. Next time, don’t make a young girl run out in the middle of the night. I have arms and legs; I can find the hotel myself.”

Feng Yunxin gave a sly grin. “Our Teacher Luo actually knows how to feel bad for someone? That means she must have served you well. So, that partnership is settled then…”

Halfway through, Feng Yunxin realized something was wrong. “Young girl? What young girl?”

Luo Jingyi was even more confused. “Wasn’t she the CP you assigned to me? Why are you asking me?”

“No! The one I found for you is named Qian Yu, a young boy! Which girl picked you up last night?”

“I think her name is Chen Ge. Tall, and looks a bit cold.”

“Her… I think I recall the name. But Xiao Chen already has a CP! Why would she go pick you up?”

The loud shouting made Luo Jingyi’s ears ache. She frowned. “How should I know? You’re the one who failed to coordinate things. What, is Xiao Chen not my CP?”

“You, a senior ‘homophobe’? How could I not know? How could I possibly give you a girl for a same-sex CP? Do I want to die?”

Feng Yunxin was exaggerating slightly. Luo Jingyi had never explicitly stated she was homophobic, but given the past, Feng Yunxin drew her own conclusions.

Luo Jingyi’s parents divorced when she was very young. A few years later, her mother changed her sexual orientation and found a girlfriend. They were soon passionately involved, and a teenage Luo Jingyi witnessed her mother in bed with another woman. At the time, Luo Jingyi was focused entirely on her studies and knew little of the adult world. Having only had a few hygiene classes and no first love, she was suddenly thrust into the adult world by her own mother’s demonstration.

It was a significant blow to her then-innocent mind. She ran to Feng Yunxin’s house for three days. After being pestered, she finally revealed the truth. Feng Yunxin was also shocked, asking, “Who is she? What does she look like?”

Luo Jingyi loathed her friend’s gossipy curiosity. “My mom’s former student, a famous musical theater actress. Of course she’s beautiful.”

Luo Jingyi’s mother was a professor at an arts college. Luo Jingyi remembered this woman, surnamed Qiao; even as a student, she loved organizing parties and bringing classmates to their house. What they did behind closed doors, Luo Jingyi didn’t know or care. As long as they didn’t bring it in front of her, she was indifferent. She had her own things to do and no time to interfere with anyone’s life.

Unfortunately, a lapse in caution led her to stumble upon them.

Feng Yunxin was enthralled by the story. “A former student? A musical theater actress? Isn’t she much younger than your aunt?”

“Only six years older than me.”

“Holy crap, your mom’s got game!”

Luo Jingyi’s cold gaze silenced her. It was clear back then that she didn’t like her mother being with Xiao Qiao.

Later, both entered the film industry, surrounded by all kinds of people and diverse lifestyles. Lesbians were as common as “crucian carp in a river.” But Feng Yunxin never mentioned a specific “carp” to Luo Jingyi, fearing she hadn’t moved past her mother’s shadow.

Ironically, despite her history, Luo Jingyi’s looks and personality made her “catnip” for the lesbian community. Coupled with her status as a gold-medal screenwriter, a group of bold young girls once threw themselves at her one after another. They either pursued her desperately or tried to jump into her bed, treating it like a fortress to be stormed.

Feng Yunxin knew of one girl who pursued Teacher Luo to the point of desperation but failed to move her heart of stone—instead, she ended up smashing Luo Jingyi’s favorite Limoges ceramic ashtray. Since then, Feng Yunxin never dared mention the word “homosexual” in front of her.

After all that caution, she hadn’t expected such a massive mix-up last night. Luo Jingyi was filling the non-celebrity spot, who was originally supposed to be paired with Qian Yu. Naturally, she should have been with him. That’s why Feng Yunxin sent Qian Yu to pick her up.

Instead, Chen Ge went? Feng Yunxin figured Qian Yu had been lazy and coaxed Chen Ge into going for him. Chen Ge, being honest and naive, probably didn’t realize what was happening, leading to Luo Jingyi’s misunderstanding.

Feng Yunxin quickly explained: “Don’t worry, Sister Yi. I wouldn’t dare pull that on you! It was all a misunderstanding. Your partner is a young boy, very energetic. Let me show you a photo.” She pulled out a selfie of Qian Yu.

Luo Jingyi glanced at it. “A bit messy.”

“That’s just your high standards. In terms of looks, he’s the most handsome guy in our crew.”

Luo Jingyi replied, “I don’t know about handsome, but he certainly has a lot of schemes.”

As she spoke, the car arrived at the farmhouse. As soon as they stepped out, they saw Chen Ge and Song Ruyu sitting together nearby, recording an interview.

The assistant director asked if they got along well in their daily lives. Song Ruyu, well-versed in the art of shipping, leaned giggling onto Chen Ge’s shoulder. She blinked and said cooingly, “Why don’t you guess?”

Chen Ge sat there like a wooden board, her back stiff, a forced and uncomfortable smile on her lips. Dissatisfied with the reaction, Song Ruyu sat up and slapped her arm.

“Oh, say something! It’s so awkward with just me talking!”

Luo Jingyi crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her head, and asked Feng Yunxin, “That’s Xiao Chen’s CP?”

“Yeah…”

“Why is she so touchy-feely?”

“That’s just how you ship a CP.”

Luo Jingyi’s voice grew colder. “Aren’t they both fakes? Can they still flirt and tease to this extent?”

“You don’t understand. This is ‘Socialist Sisterhood’.”

Luo Jingyi glanced at Feng Yunxin. “You didn’t arrange for me to understand either.” With that, she walked away.

Feng Yunxin: “??”

What now? Wasn’t I just explaining fandom operations to her? Where did I mess up this time?

The Author has something to say:

Luo Jingyi: So annoyed.

Feng Yunxin: This is so hard for me…