After Flirting with the Wrong Stand-in, I Overturned (GL) - Chapter 36

“Miss Ren.” The words were out of Lin Shuyan’s mouth before she could stop herself and change them. Ren Xuan only gave a slight glance in her direction upon hearing the title; while she looked no different than before, she appeared vastly different in Lin Shuyan’s eyes.

Ren Xuan seemed about to say something, but the phone in her pocket vibrated. She gave Shuyan a nod, patted Ren Ke’s small head, and walked out of the living room.

“Yinman.”

“I say, Eldest Miss Ren,” Ning Yinman said, idly stroking her freshly polished nails, “If I don’t call you, you’ll never contact me, will you?”

“Tell me, how long has it been since you last got in touch?” Ning Yinman asked aggressively, like someone demanding an explanation.

“Shouldn’t the Great President Ning be even busier lately?” Ren Xuan countered airily. Even though Ren Xuan wasn’t in the entertainment industry herself, she hadn’t missed a single one of Ning Yinman’s exploits. Photos with this celebrity today, supporting that singer tomorrow, or attending another star’s birthday party.

“Ahem, ahem.” Ning Yinman gave two awkward coughs. “I’m doing that for my career, for my career.”

“You should know in your own heart what it’s for,” Ren Xuan reminded her kindly.

“I’ve always known, alright?” Ning Yinman brushed the topic aside. “I heard from Xiao Ke that there’s a ‘sister’ staying at your house. So, how are things going? Want to introduce her to us?”

“Jianhua even mentioned it last time.” Jian Rong, like Ning Yinman, was one of ‘Ren Xuan’s’ close friends who had grown up with her.

“She’s busy,” Ren Xuan declined decisively.

“Tsk, fine,” Ning Yinman said. She had seen the person anyway, so it didn’t matter. She could still “brag” about it in her social circle, so she dropped the subject. She simply had a vague, inexplicable feeling; she had looked at Lin Shuyan’s period photos for a long time but still couldn’t put her finger on it.

Their chat was put aside for the moment. Ren Xuan’s words proved prophetic—the excuse she had casually made came true a few days later when Lin Shuyan truly became busy.

When Ren Xuan knocked and entered, her eyes were met with a desk covered in scripts and notebooks. They were spread densely across the table, topped with Shuyan’s easily recognizable small handwriting.

“I—” Lin Shuyan couldn’t even stand the sight of it herself and looked down to tidy up, but Ren Xuan stopped her. “Don’t move, it’s fine like this.”

Lin Shuyan processed this for a second, smiled, and stopped cleaning. Ren Xuan had told her she could be more free in her presence. Shuyan didn’t dwell on it and sat directly on the sofa; Ren Xuan sat beside her, examining the materials closely.

“Shuyan really likes this script?” Ren Xuan deduced. For Shuyan to take notes and study a script to this extent, she had to truly love it.

“I do.” Lin Shuyan made no effort to hide the joy in her heart. “It’s my first time trying a script like this.”

“What’s it about?” Ren Xuan asked casually.

Lin Shuyan went silent.

“Can’t say?”

Lin Shuyan shook her head, twisting her fingers in a state of conflict. She really should seek Ren Xuan’s opinion on whether she could act in this play. She was so delighted and loved the script so much that she hadn’t managed to tell Ren Xuan yet.

“Then tell me about it?” Ren Xuan took an attentive stance and looked at Shuyan with a smile.

Shuyan hesitated for two seconds. Under Ren Xuan’s expectant gaze, she slowly raised her hand.

…

There was a moment of silence. Ren Xuan looked at the serious expression of the person before her—she looked exactly like a child in class, obediently raising her hand and waiting for the teacher’s permission before speaking. This was a move Ren Ke was most skilled at, usually when she had done something wrong or caused trouble.

Influenced by her surroundings, Ren Xuan was impressed. She had thought that after spending more time together, Ren Ke might learn some of Shuyan’s quietness. But right now, this seemed rather nice.

“Ahem,” Ren Xuan cleared her throat. “Tell me then.”

Lin Shuyan suddenly felt even more embarrassed. Subtle influence was indeed terrifying. Over the past few days, she had spent a lot of time with Ren Ke, who told her everything and even specifically taught her what to do if her sister got angry.

And then…

Ren Ke had even demonstrated it several times. It was clear that Ren Ke was almost intimately familiar with Ren Xuan’s various moods and emotional changes. Lin Shuyan had only learned a fraction of it.

Since she’d already done it, Shuyan put her hands down, placing them properly on the edge of the table. She closed her eyes, steeled herself, and blurted it out: “This script has emotional scenes.”

“With the male lead?”

Lin Shuyan shook her head and spoke tentatively, “It’s with a… woman.”

“A woman?” Ren Xuan was surprised for two seconds. This world was friendly toward heterosexuality with no restrictions, but it also produced a large volume of “dual male lead” or “dual female lead” dramas. Subject to viewership numbers, they were only enjoyed by a niche audience, so not many were filmed.

“Yes.” Lin Shuyan looked up cautiously, trying to gauge Ren Xuan’s expression.

“Are there kiss scenes?” Ren Xuan asked curiously.

Lin Shuyan’s expression turned odd.

“There really are?”

“It… it doesn’t really count,” Lin Shuyan stammered in denial.

“Are there or aren’t there?” Ren Xuan found it strange and began to dig deeper.

“Just,” Shuyan raised her hand, rubbing her thumb and index finger together to show a tiny gap, and said in a small voice, “a little bit.”

“Oh.” Ren Xuan elongated the sound, giving the illusion that she had suddenly reached full understanding. She heard Ren Xuan say, “Like that one time someone did.”

“No!” Lin Shuyan obviously remembered her bold act of kissing Ren Xuan a few days ago. Half her face turned crimson as she blurted out a denial.

Ren Xuan’s eyes curved with laughter. Knowing what the girl was worried about, she leaned forward and patted Shuyan’s head. “Your career is your own; you make the decisions.”

“But…” Shuyan blinked. She felt as though Ren Xuan didn’t care at all about what scripts she filmed, nor did she care who she acted with or filmed kiss scenes with.

As her partner, shouldn’t Ren Xuan care a lot about such things? In her confusion, a thought surfaced in Shuyan’s mind, but she quickly dismissed it.

Ren Xuan was unlike anyone else; she was better than everyone. She certainly wouldn’t be like those people she saw in the news or the entertainment industry who, after dating or marrying, didn’t allow their partners to act or appear in public.

“But now you have a girlfriend,” Ren Xuan said, finishing the thought for her.

“As your girlfriend,” Ren Xuan said with a smile, “I’m very gratified that my girlfriend tells me everything.”

“Love isn’t a shackle. Once you’ve made up your mind, I’ll support whatever you do. Besides,” Ren Xuan raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, whispering into Shuyan’s ear, “I know there’s a term called ‘camera angles’ (faking a kiss).”

Shuyan’s heart trembled violently. Ren Xuan thought exactly the same way she did. It turned out she didn’t “not mind” Shuyan filming these scenes; she just trusted her completely. She knew Shuyan would find ways to handle those kiss scenes properly.

“Ren Xuan.” Shuyan could no longer help herself; she shrank directly into Ren Xuan’s embrace, burying her head in her chest. “You’re so good.”

“Not looking at the script anymore?” Ren Xuan looked quietly at the girl who was so full of contentment. Lin Shuyan shook her head in her arms, suddenly losing the desire to study. She just wanted to stay by Ren Xuan’s side like this—ideally, forever.

A few minutes passed. After lounging lazily for a bit, Lin Shuyan obediently picked up her script and shyly emerged from Ren Xuan’s arms. The latter didn’t tease her, checked the time, and left the quiet room to her as she went out.

This script was a personal invitation from Director Wu—Wu Wenshan, the director of The Dragon Emperor. Lin Shuyan had only filmed two dramas so far. Neither had aired, so she had little visibility. The scripts seeking her out were either supporting roles or low-budget web dramas.

Director Wu was filming a low-budget project this time. Neither dual female leads nor dual male leads were mainstream or hit genres. Few actors dared to try them, and even fewer directors did.

When Sister Zheng called Shuyan, she could hardly believe that a director as famous as Wu Wenshan would try this genre. But looking closely at Wu Wenshan’s resume, it began to make sense. She had spent her life trying all kinds of lifestyles.

At first, Shuyan still had doubts. Given her experience, she shouldn’t be cast as a lead in Director Wu’s drama.

“You don’t need to feel pressured,” Wu Wenshan said over the phone, quite unlike her strict demeanor on the set of The Dragon Emperor. Or rather, this was her true self in private. “This drama has very little investment.” No matter how capable Wu Wenshan was, investors wouldn’t put up capital if they didn’t see a return. In their words, the probability of recouping costs for this genre was too low.

“We are adopting a model where we film and air half, then film the rest. Frankly, I liked your performance on set, but given the genre and this filming model, you should consider it carefully before giving me an answer.”

Shuyan listened with doubt until she saw the script: “The Princess of Qin”—a period drama with a female-female theme.

She thought she wouldn’t be immersed in it, but after reading the whole story and projecting herself into it, Shuyan knew she didn’t want to miss this role.

Makeup tests, contract signing, and joining the crew. Wu Wenshan and the screenwriter of The Princess of Qin had been polishing this script for years, only held back previously because the environment wasn’t right.

Shuyan studied it for nearly a month before telling Ren Xuan, with great reluctance, that it was time to join the crew.

“What’s wrong? Unhappy?” Even though Shuyan was the one leaving, it was Ren Xuan who held her hand in private and asked.

“Mhm.” Lin Shuyan nodded. She felt she had been spoiled by Ren Xuan and Uncle Wang. No matter what time she woke up, breakfast was sent from the kitchen, and a glass of hot milk was prepared at night. Someone reminded her to exercise, and she had even gone to the stables with Ren Xuan in her spare time.

Filming xianxia dramas didn’t require horse riding, and neither did most modern ones, but The Princess of Qin happened to require it. In over a month, Shuyan couldn’t be called an expert rider, but she could manage a slow trot on a gentle horse.

Shuyan felt that she was already missing Ren Xuan before she had even left.

“Then,” Ren Xuan said teasingly, knowing full well the contracts were signed and Shuyan had to leave today, “Stay here?”

Lin Shuyan shook her head.

“Shuyan,” Ren Xuan said helplessly, “I’m really not omnipotent.”

Shuyan burst into a giggle. Seeing her smile, Ren Xuan tapped her soft cheek and felt relieved. “Contact me when you arrive, and get in touch immediately if anything happens.”

“Ren Xuan,” Shuyan obediently noted down the instructions. Watching Ren Xuan talk to her as if teaching a child, she murmured shyly, “Am I being very pathetic like this?”

“Is it pathetic?” Ren Xuan countered easily.

In front of Ren Xuan, Shuyan thought, she was more than happy to be so.

“Alright, Princess. It’s time to set off,” Ren Xuan reminded her with a smile.