After Rebirth, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessive - Chapter 27
“Director Tan’s script-I think you should give it serious consideration. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I hope you can see things clearly.” In the end, Ning Xuan spoke to her with earnest persuasion.
“Let me know if you agree to the audition. I’ll fight for more time for you.”
An Yu clutched the script, lowered her head, and after a moment of thought, turned the doorknob and stepped out of the office.
The moment she closed the door behind her, she came face-to-face with an unwelcome guest.
“An Yu, long time no see.” The trendy man across from her greeted her with a lazy smirk. Despite being inside the company, where the lighting was entirely artificial, he wore a pair of sunglasses.
An Yu forced a smile. “Indeed, Young Master Qi. It has been a while.”
“Oh my, look at that tone. You’re our Sister Ning’s treasure now-can’t just call you An Yu anymore, gotta call you Sister An.” The man An Yu addressed as “Young Master Qi” removed his sunglasses, feigning surprise. His gaze fell on the script in An Yu’s hands, and for a moment, he froze before letting out a contemptuous chuckle.
“Can’t deny our Sister Ning’s sharp business sense. The moment you start gaining a little popularity, she shoves a script at you. Now that you’ve managed to ride someone else’s coattails to a bit of fame, of course you’ve got to milk it for all it’s worth, right, Sister An?”
The undisguised disgust in Qi Qi’s eyes was unmistakable. Every word he spoke carried a veiled jab at An Yu for leeching off Lin Duxi’s rising fame. The same person who had once trampled her underfoot, doling out scraps as charity, now found himself overshadowed by An Yu overnight. He couldn’t stand it.
Moreover, he had once insinuated that he’d take her under his wing in exchange for resources. After An Yu rejected him, he had deliberately blocked her opportunities. Now, with the tables turned, he was determined to reclaim his bruised ego. He was certain An Yu would ignore him as she always had, so his words grew increasingly venomous.
“Honestly, to make it in this industry, you’ve really got to have no shame-your chances of blowing up skyrocket. But my face matters too much for that. After all, I still have to go home for dinner once a week. Don’t you agree?”
An Yu stared at him calmly, then suddenly raised her hand and slapped him across the face.
Smack.
The entire floor fell silent. Nearby staff pricked up their ears.
Qi Qi hadn’t seen any anger on her face and thought he’d stunned her into silence. Just as he began to relish the moment, a searing pain exploded across his cheek. His head snapped to the side, and he clutched his face in shock.
An Yu had actually hit him. In his over twenty years of life, no one had ever dared to strike him. An Yu had truly lost her mind!
“Oh, sorry. There was a mosquito on your face. I was afraid it would suck your blood, so I killed it.” With that, An Yu raised her hand. Qi Qi instinctively flinched, only to see the corpse of a squashed mosquito in her palm, its remains smeared with his blood.
Qi Qi was livid. The force behind An Yu’s slap had definitely not been meant for a mosquito-it was meant to take him out along with it. Furious, his cheek bore a vivid red handprint, yet he had no way to retaliate.
“You’re absolutely right. Now that I’ve hitched a ride, I’d better hold on tight. After all, following behind a superstar like Lin Du, you’re bound to get some scraps. Unlike some people who get drained by mosquitoes and still act smug about it.” An Yu took a wet wipe from her assistant and wiped her hand disdainfully before turning to leave.
“It’s not clean enough. Xiao Song, let’s go wash our hands. Bring me the strongest antibacterial soap you can find.”
Qi Qi had never been humiliated like this in his life. An Yu had the audacity to speak to him like this? In this company, everyone obeyed him without question. He-he was going to call his dad. An Yu had to be blacklisted!
Clutching his phone, Qi Qi’s face and neck flushed crimson with rage. The slap mark on his cheek had swollen, making him look even more pathetic. “What are you all staring at? You want to get fired too?!”
Xia Song followed behind An Yu, listening to Qi Qi’s hysterical screams. Only when they turned into the restroom did she finally speak up.
“Sister An, you were so cool just now! You should’ve put him in his place ages ago. But… what are you going to do now? Qi Qi’s dad is a company shareholder. If you’ve offended him, the company might cut off your resources-or even freeze you out. What’ll happen then?” Xia Song’s initial amusement quickly gave way to worry as she looked at An Yu anxiously.
An Yu smiled faintly. She pumped a dollop of soap into her palm and scrubbed away the traces of blood. “I’m not even scared, and you’re already panicking? Don’t worry, your salary will come on time. There’s always a way out.” As she spoke, she dried her hands and turned her gaze to the script resting on the sink.
This opportunity-she had to seize it.
The company she was currently signed to was small-scale and notorious in the industry. Most of the artists under its management had faced unfair treatment at some point. In her past life, it had gone under not long after she was blacklisted. An Yu had no intention of staying here any longer.
After the show wrapped up, according to the system, the male and female leads would have already sparked a romance. An Yu’s role would naturally become obsolete. She had to lay the groundwork for her future-at the very least, she couldn’t end up like her past self, dying with nothing, not even the truth behind her parents’ deaths uncovered.
An Yu clenched her fists, resolve hardening in her heart.
She would earn enough in the next few years to live somewhere alone, far from prying eyes, and slowly uncover the truth of what had happened.
This world, after all, revolved around the male and female leads. People like her didn’t matter.
With the airing of the first episode of Hello, Friend , discussions about the show hadn’t died down. Instead, as the recorded broadcast went live, the buzz only grew louder.
【This is the first dating show in such a long time where romantic pairings aren’t limited to heterosexual couples, right? The director is really bold.】
【I originally thought the same-sex dating aspect was just a gimmick for the show, but I actually ended up shipping a couple-it’s just too good.】
【I’d call it a chaotic mix of CPs, but I’m only here for Yu Xi. Seeing them pick the wrong pictures at the end and potentially not being paired together next episode has me heartbroken.】
【Don’t rush to cry yet, upstairs! Come check out our Yu Xi super topic-we’ve got all kinds of fanfics to satisfy your cravings. We’ve got magnifying glasses to zoom in on the tiniest crumbs of sugar, and top-tier fanart by the amazing @DidYouSleepToday. Don’t miss out!】
DidYouSleepToday: 【Why the tag?】
【Big sis, it’s been three days since I last ate your fanworks, and it feels like a century has passed. For you, I haven’t eaten in what feels like an entire era.】
【Ma’am, hungry, food please.】
【Grandma, the artist you love just posted!】
An Yu looked at the flood of comments begging for content and couldn’t help but tilt her head in amusement, scratching her temple in slight bewilderment.
She had just impulsively drawn a piece of fanart a few nights ago-herself and Lin Duxi-never expecting it to become a beacon of hope for their shippers. The post was later highlighted as a top contribution and even gained some traction outside the fandom.
An Yu felt a headache coming on, but the sweet pleas and relentless flattery in the comments reignited her creative spark.
DidYouSleepToday: 【Alright, I’ll try to finish a new piece tonight.】
【Ahhhh! Thank you, ma’am!】
【Having you is a blessing for our ship!】
Watching the comments flood in, An Yu’s lips curled into a smile. Then, one particular comment caught her eye-
Sleep24Hours: 【Please take care of your health, ma’am. Don’t stay up too late.】
An Yu instantly recognized this user. Their unique demeanor had stood out to her before-their profile picture was an old still from one of her dramas, unchanged to this day. Even their username seemed to play off hers.
An Yu liked the comment and replied: 【Thanks for your concern, I’ll be careful.】
Her curiosity piqued, she clicked into the user’s profile.
Their page was sparse, as if barely used, save for a single like on a post about An Yu-a still from her debut drama, which matched their profile picture. So they’d taken it from there.
Just as An Yu was about to exit, she noticed a private message from them:
【My friend used to draw too. She’d work late at night and end up too exhausted to attend classes the next day. Please take care of yourself, ma’am.】
Ah, so they were a student.
【I just draw as a side gig, so it’s not too frequent. But tell your friend to prioritize her studies-don’t let it affect her classes.】 An Yu advised.
【We graduated a long time ago, and she doesn’t draw anymore.】 Sleep24Hours replied. 【You’re just doing this as a side gig? Your art is amazing.】
An Yu responded: 【Yeah, my main job isn’t drawing. But lately, work’s been throwing me some curveballs, so I might not be able to draw as often.】
For some reason, she found herself opening up to this stranger. Maybe it was because, in this vast sea of people, her words would just be fleeting chatter-no one would ever know who she really was.
【If you’re facing challenges at work, maybe you could ask someone with experience for advice? They might be able to help.】 the user suggested.
Experience?
An image of Lin Duxi flashed through An Yu’s mind. Lin Duxi was undoubtedly the most experienced when it came to acting-should she ask her? The thought lingered.
Would Lin Duxi even agree to rehearse with her?
Lost in thought, An Yu didn’t realize her phone had gone dark. She hurriedly unlocked it, worried the other person might think she’d suddenly logged off, only to see a goodbye message from Sleep24Hours.
【Bye, ma’am. (Kitty waving.jpg)】
DidYouSleepToday: 【Bye.】
An Yu tossed her phone aside, her mind involuntarily circling back to Lin Duxi. Objectively-and subjectively-Lin Duxi was the best candidate to help her sharpen her acting skills and secure the audition. But if she approached Lin Duxi, the System would undoubtedly grow suspicious and start interrogating her.
She didn’t want to waste energy dealing with the System.
An Yu sighed, sinking back into indecision. She glanced at the drawing tablet on her desk-first, she needed to finish that artwork.
The curtains in her bedroom were drawn, casting the room in darkness. The only light came from the dim glow of her desk lamp, flickering faintly against her long lashes as she sat in her chair.
An Yu opened the drawer to retrieve her stylus but accidentally brushed against something cool and smooth. She paused, then pulled out a red silk ribbon, its rough texture glinting faintly under the light.
Such coarse fabric-wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?
Her chestnut-brown eyes darkened. She twirled the ribbon between her fingers, the fabric teasing her skin with every movement. A faint smile played on her lips as she wrapped the ribbon around one hand, the vibrant red stark against her pale skin.
Under the dim light, her gaze softened as she studied her bound hand-then, in an instant, turned sharp and unyielding. With a sudden tug, the ribbon tightened, biting into her flesh, turning her skin white where it pressed and red where it strained.
An Yu smiled, her long lashes casting shadows over her unreadable expression.
Golden twilight spilled through the windows, painting the hallway in a warm glow. At the center of this radiant scene stood a lone figure, pulling the ethereal beauty back into reality.
An Yu hesitated outside Lin Duxi’s door, watching as the sunlight faded into dusk. Her outstretched hand trembled slightly with uncertainty.
I’ll just check on her hand. She knocked twice.
The sound echoed sharply in the quiet hallway. When no response came, An Yu recalled the agent’s earlier remark about the neighbor rarely being home.
Lin Duxi must be out. She turned to leave.
Just then, the door clicked open.
Lin Duxi stood there in a thin nightgown, her skin pale against the fabric, hair tousled, eyes still hazy with sleep.
“A-Yu!” The moment she saw An Yu, she brightened. “What’s wrong?”
Noticing how lightly Lin Duxi was dressed, An Yu’s ears flushed pink. A breeze drifted down the hallway, and she instinctively stepped forward, shielding Lin Duxi from the draft.
“I came to check on your hand,” she said quickly.
Lin Duxi blinked at her, still half-asleep. “My injury?”
An Yu softened. “Yes, your hand. It’s been a day-how is it healing?”
Her gaze locked with Lin Duxi’s, but in her periphery, she missed the way Lin Duxi’s hands subtly shifted behind her back-one thumb pressing deliberately into the freshly scabbed wound.
“It… split open again when I got home,” Lin Duxi said calmly, extending her hand for inspection. “I’ll have to trouble A-Yu again.”
An Yu glanced down and immediately noticed the blood seeping through the bandage. Her breath caught.
“How did it reopen? Wait here-I’ll grab fresh bandages.” She handed Lin Duxi the script she’d been holding and hurried back to her apartment.
Since she’d just returned, her luggage was still unpacked, making it easy to find the medical supplies. She rushed back, only to find Lin Duxi still waiting in the doorway.
“Let’s go inside,” An Yu urged. “It’s drafty out here.”
This was her first time entering Lin Duxi’s home. The layout mirrored her own, but the furnishings were more minimalist, the colors muted-lifeless, even.
The living room was meticulously tidy, as if reflecting its owner’s disciplined nature. Every door except the entrance was shut, amplifying the sterility of the space.
“It probably reopened while I was unpacking,” Lin Duxi explained as she settled onto a chair. “But it doesn’t hurt. Don’t worry, A-Yu.”
An Yu knelt before her, carefully unwrapping the bloodied bandage. With each layer, her frown deepened. The sight of the wound twisted something in her chest, distracting her from the fact that Lin Duxi’s nightgown-thinner than anything she’d worn on set-left little to the imagination.
Having done this twice before, An Yu worked efficiently. As she secured the fresh bandage, she expected Lin Duxi to say something-but the room remained silent.
She glanced up.
Lin Duxi was engrossed in the script.
An Yu: “…”
Noticing her gaze, Lin Duxi looked up. “Is this for your next role?”
An Yu nodded. “Yes.” She stood, putting distance between them. “Actually, I didn’t just come to check on your hand. I was wondering if you’d have time to rehearse with me.”
She recalled the advice from earlier: “You have more experience with acting. You could point out my weaknesses, help me improve.”
She met Lin Duxi’s eyes, expecting surprise-but instead found them brimming with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips. The warmth in that gaze was too layered for An Yu to decipher.
Lin Duxi’s smile deepened, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she studied An Yu. You’ve given yourself away, A-Yu.
For all your aloofness, you still draw those kinds of pictures. Some things never change-and I was right about you all along.
Her heart swelled with affection, and she couldn’t help but gaze at An Yu with undisguised tenderness.
“Of course,” she said softly.
Poor An Yu, still oblivious to Lin Duxi’s thoughts, found herself momentarily dazed by that look. The faint scent of perfume hung between them, masking the synchronized pounding of two hearts.
“But A-Yu has to agree to one condition,” Lin Duxi added.
An Yu blinked. “What condition?”
Lin Duxi pretended to think. “I haven’t decided yet. But shouldn’t I get some reward? Let’s table it for now-I’ll tell you when I think of it.”
It sounded reasonable, so An Yu agreed.
As Lin Duxi flipped through the script, An Yu couldn’t help but notice how her nightgown-even flimsier than her filming wardrobe-clung to her frame. The thin fabric barely covered the essentials, leaving too much to the imagination. Her hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, exposing the delicate curve of her neck and collarbones. One strap of her gown teetered precariously, but Lin Duxi seemed indifferent to whether it stayed or slipped.
An Yu averted her eyes. “Where’s the AC remote? It’s a bit cold.”
“On the table,” Lin Duxi said without looking up.
An Yu turned off the AC and returned to her side, but from her higher vantage point, she caught glimpses of skin beneath the gown.
Flushing, An Yu fixed her gaze on the floor. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should rehearse tomorrow.” She made to leave, even forgetting about the script.
Lin Duxi didn’t look up, simply reaching out to catch An Yu’s wrist. “I’m busy tomorrow. Let’s do it now-we both have time.”
She gently tugged An Yu’s hand, not using any force, yet An Yu didn’t take another step forward.
“Let’s rehearse the scene now. I’ll play the female lead in the script, and Ah Yu, you’ll play the role you’re auditioning for, okay?”
An Yu: “Okay.”
Lin Duxi’s usual demeanor toward An Yu was one way-gentle as water, seemingly devoid of any strong emotions. But when it came to studying, her approach was different-strict yet indulgent. She would say, “No, An Yu, that’s not right,” while secretly allowing exceptions, whispering, “Just this once.”
These methods worked all too well on the younger An Yu back then, to the point that the spoiled, willful temperament she developed took a long time to unlearn after their breakup. What An Yu hadn’t expected was that even after all these years, Lin Duxi still treated her the same way.
Lin Duxi had a deep resonance with the characters she portrayed, always able to immerse herself quickly and embody the protagonist’s state.
Compared to Lin Duxi, An Yu’s performance seemed somewhat lacking. Thanks to her experience as an extra in her past life, acting came naturally to her, but when performing opposite Lin Duxi, her shortcomings became glaringly obvious.
During their rehearsal, the two had many moments of physical contact. Every time Lin Duxi touched her or stood close, An Yu caught a whiff of that faint, lingering fragrance-more intoxicating and rich than during the show’s recording, mixed with a hint of perfume. An Yu didn’t dislike the scent.
In the confined space where only the two of them existed, the fragrance grew bolder, drifting into her nose, stirring chaos in her mind, leaving her dazed.
Noticing her distracted state, Lin Duxi would gently guide her back on track. But Lin Duxi wasn’t wearing much, and her movements in front of An Yu only further scattered An Yu’s already unfocused thoughts. Combined with that maddening fragrance, their first rehearsal didn’t go well.
An Yu sighed, silently cursing herself for squandering such a hard-won opportunity.
Seeing An Yu visibly dejected, Lin Duxi couldn’t help but ruffle her hair in reassurance. “It’s okay, Ah Yu. I should have time tomorrow night. Let’s continue then.”
She handed the script back to An Yu and stood at the doorway, smiling as she bid her goodbye. Only after watching An Yu enter her room did she turn and close the door.
The living room was empty again, though traces of An Yu’s presence still lingered faintly in the air. Lin Duxi lowered her gaze and suddenly noticed the sleepwear she had on. She froze-this nightgown was something she had always considered too revealing and had never worn before. In her haste earlier, she must have grabbed it without thinking. No wonder An Yu had been so distracted today.
A small smile tugged at Lin Duxi’s lips. So that’s what was bothering Ah Yu. Then, her eyes drifted toward the bedroom. She let out a quiet breath and walked over, turning the handle.
The door opened, and a few beams of light spilled into the dark room. The air inside was thick with a rich, sweet fragrance, fermenting an ambiguous tension that filled the entire space. On the disheveled bed lay a black coat, carelessly tossed onto the blankets. A cup had tipped over somewhere, leaving a damp stain on the fabric, darker than the rest.
After returning to her room, An Yu sent Ning Xuan a message, saying she had agreed to attend the audition.
Ning Xuan replied quickly-the audition was scheduled for next week, right after she finished filming the second episode of the show. An Yu acknowledged it.
Ning Xuan: “See? If you pass this audition and the filming goes well, we’ll move up in the ranks!”
An Yu smiled. “Hopefully.” Ning Xuan had been so good to her, yet she was already planning how to leave the company. Logically, she knew it was just business, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty.
“An Yu, just go for it! Isn’t your Ning-jie here for you?”
Ning Xuan’s sudden, seemingly random remark made An Yu realize-she already knew. She was saying this deliberately.
“Okay!”
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An Yu took the bait