After Transmigrating into the Role of the Villain Forced to Pamper the Heroine of an Angsty Novel - Chapter 23

Gu Ruolan found the business card Meng Qiuran had given her during the set visit. She stared at the number on it for a long time, unable to press the call button. She had already decided on the way: she would simply ask why Meng had suddenly decided to invest.

But at the moment she was actually about to dial, she became inexplicably conflicted. She was… a bit worried about hearing the answer. If it truly was because of her, what kind of reaction should she have?

Gu Ruolan realized it wasn’t that she didn’t want to know Meng Qiuran’s motives; it was that she hadn’t decided how to deal with them.

She wanted to finish filming this drama. The reason she insisted on refusing the script changes was that she didn’t want to ruin her original expectations for the project. When things reached a stalemate, she had already lost hope; otherwise, she wouldn’t have started considering termination.

Terminating a contract proactively is not easy, but she would rather be misunderstood and lose money than film a movie with a misleading agenda.

Lost in these thoughts, over half an hour passed. The corner of the business card had been pinched and wrinkled, yet the call was never made. Gu Ruolan did, however, save the number into her phone. When it came to typing the name, she paused.

If she wrote “Meng Qiuran” directly and someone else saw it, it might cause a misunderstanding. Not writing a name felt impolite. She suddenly remembered that name tag; the woman had shown it to her quite openly back then but said she wasn’t allowed to photograph her face. The feeling was quite similar to the conflict she felt now.

The corners of her mouth curved slightly as she saved the contact under the name: Bai Qiu.

The Meng Qiuran she met in Berlin (Berlin/Bai).

Gu Ruolan figured that since Meng Qiuran had taken over the investment, the crew would receive new instructions soon, and she would have her answer. She even imagined that Meng Qiuran might show up on set again.

But strangely, after waiting for a full five days, she still hadn’t seen Meng Qiuran. Not only was the person missing, but there wasn’t even a sound from her.

Xu Anying had visibly deflated. Lately, she had been honestly filming according to the script and had stopped making things difficult for Yu Yimeng. Occasionally, she showed a bit of hidden aggression during scenes with Gu Ruolan, but Director Xie rejected those takes for not fitting the narrative and demanded reshoots.

There was already a gap in their acting skills; now, without the director’s favoritism and the “highlight” scenes from the revised script, Xu Anying’s advantage in front of the lens was dwindling.

As today’s filming ended, she hurried away with her assistant, claiming she was tired. Gu Ruolan wasn’t in a rush. She took the thermos Xiao Yan handed her and slowly drank about half of it.

Xie Qingxu was watching the playback while discussing tomorrow’s shoot with several assistant directors. He was surprised to see Gu Ruolan still there.

“Ruolan, why haven’t you headed back?” The Director’s attitude had returned to the warmth he showed at the start of production.

Gu Ruolan held her thermos and waited for the people around him to disperse before walking over unhurriedly. “I wanted to know if there are any changes to the upcoming filming schedule?”

Xie Qingxu paused, then realized. “Are you worried about delaying your next project?”

He hadn’t heard of her taking a new role, but she was a Movie Queen; she likely had no shortage of other activities. He couldn’t pry into the details, but it was a fact that time had been wasted over the script issue. He felt some guilt but had to speak the truth: “Boss Meng hasn’t made the final call yet.”

Gu Ruolan caught something unusual. “What does she need to finalize?”

Xie Qingxu’s expression shifted, and his brow furrowed. “The location shooting plan might change.”

According to the original plan, the crew was supposed to visit several cities for exterior shots, including a half-month stay in a rural village.

“Is the duration being extended?” Gu Ruolan felt that the Director’s hesitation wasn’t about the time.

Xie Qingxu’s hands, yellowed from years of smoking, tapped against the armrest of his lounge chair. Finally, after hesitating for a long while, he still didn’t speak plainly: “Wait a few more days. Let Boss Meng announce it herself.”

With that, he picked up his large tea mug—now mostly just soggy tea leaves—and walked away.

Gu Ruolan waited a few more days and finally learned what “Boss Meng” was going to announce.

Meng Qiuran didn’t come to the set, but she formally relayed her decision through Xie Qingxu.

Filming for “The Starlight is Like You” is terminated. The crew will disband within a week, and all compensation will be paid out according to the contracts.

Strangely, although it should have been a somber occasion, most of the crew breathed a sigh of relief. They got their money early without the work. Although there wouldn’t be the potential bonuses from a successful release, the accident-prone filming process hadn’t given anyone high hopes for the box office anyway. This was a very good outcome.

Meng Qiuran received the latest gossip from Xing Qu: Xu Anying had gotten into a huge fight with Ding Shenhai over this, which resulted in Ding breaking up with her on the spot. They were still arguing.

Meng Qiuran wasn’t interested in such things. Her mind was currently occupied by two things: making money fast and Gu Ruolan.

This time, spending a large sum of money had helped preserve Gu’s reputation, but the “no work to film” state was driving Meng Qiuran crazy—it meant the next Best Actress award was still far away.

She called Yuan Yi in. “Has the online sentiment regarding Gu Ruolan started to improve?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘improve,’ but it’s definitely much quieter than the peak. Most of them were just bystanders looking for gossip. Since no new drama appeared to replace the old one, they dispersed.”

This fit Meng Qiuran’s expectations. She suppressed the “dead” movie, retracted all the related publicity, and minimized exposure. Naturally, public interest waned. People are busy; if they don’t have new gossip for a few days, they turn around and forget.

She rested her cheek on her hand, clearly thinking. Yuan Yi tilted her head. “You called me in just for that?”

“Not entirely. I mainly want to ask what expectations you have for Gu Ruolan’s next movie?”

As a die-hard fan, Yuan Yi surely knew Gu Ruolan better than she did. Meng Qiuran decided to listen to her opinion first.

Yuan Yi was surprised. “You’re asking me?” She was just a fan; what right did she have to dictate her idol’s next project?

Meng Qiuran pointed to the chair opposite her. “Sit down and tell me. You’ve liked her for so many years; you’ve witnessed her growth and success. How could you not be qualified?”

Yuan Yi snapped out of it. “Sister Qiu, do you want to keep investing?”

Meng Qiuran didn’t commit to an answer, only giving a small smile. Yuan Yi didn’t fully understand her previous decision—she couldn’t see why she’d take over The Starlight is Like You only to end it immediately. She could only attribute it to “rich people don’t need reasons to spend money.”

But now that she seemed interested in investing again, Yuan Yi naturally hoped the money would be spent effectively. “In my opinion, there’s no need to rush the investment. A good script is much more interesting than those ‘IP’ dramas built on marketing hype.”

Meng Qiuran clearly didn’t want to hear that. “I’m a bit in a hurry. I really want to invest.”

Yuan Yi pouted and gave another suggestion. “Then you should ask Gu Ruolan first. Invest in whichever drama she likes.”

Meng Qiuran toyed with the fountain pen in her hand, feeling helpless. “You think I haven’t asked?”

I couldn’t get it out of her, which is why I’m asking you!

Yuan Yi’s mouth fell open. She was truly stunned this time. After a long while, she took a deep breath and asked tentatively, “Sister Qiu… have you fallen for Gu Ruolan too?”

Meng Qiuran gave her a sharp, yet measured glare. “Nonsense.”

“Then why are you chasing her to invest?” Yuan Yi was a bit worried for her idol. She had heard some internal rumors in the fan groups that both Meng Xiayan and Xie Yuzong were pursuing Gu Ruolan. “You aren’t… helping Boss Meng pursue her, are you?”

The fountain pen slammed onto the table with a loud, crisp crack, enough to snap anyone to attention. “Absolutely impossible.” Her attitude this time was much more resolute than before.

Yuan Yi eventually mentioned several famous screenwriters, and Meng Qiuran noted them down one by one, but ultimately decided to ask Gu Ruolan’s opinion first. Her money was plenty, but it couldn’t withstand reckless spending.

After the crew of The Starlight is Like You disbanded, Gu Ruolan returned home from Qujiang. She had over two months of her reserved schedule left and didn’t plan on doing anything else besides focusing on choosing a script.

But the industry was not at peace. Meng Qiuran’s image as someone who “throws money away mindlessly” was reinforced, and this time, it was linked to Gu Ruolan. Although Meng Qiuran hadn’t publicly said a single word in Gu Ruolan’s defense, discerning people in the circle had started connecting the two.

In short, whether Gu Ruolan liked it or not, she was now associated with the Meng family. After much consideration, Gu Ruolan finally took the initiative to send Meng Qiuran a message.

Unknown Number: [Hello, Miss Meng. This is Gu Ruolan. Sorry to bother you. I would like to speak with you. I wonder when it would be convenient?]

The moment Meng Qiuran saw the message, her first instinct was to reply immediately. She had been worrying about how to ask Gu Ruolan out to talk about scripts.

Bai Qiu: [I’m free anytime.]

Right after that sent, she added another: [No need to be so formal. You can call me by my name.]

Gu Ruolan looked at the name “Bai Qiu” on the screen and read it silently in her mind. She sent back a few time slots for Meng Qiuran to choose from. Saying “anytime” might just be a politeness; offering choices showed her sincerity.

The time was set for 7:00 PM the next evening, but they ran into trouble choosing a location. Qidu Mansion was clearly unsuitable; it was too easy to run into Meng Xiayan’s crowd. Yisheng Tea House was also inconvenient, given the rumors circulating.

Finally, Meng Qiuran chose a place: Sister Lin’s Café.

Upon hearing that Gu Ruolan was coming, Sister Lin readily posted a “Closed for a happy occasion” sign and suspended operations.

When Gu Ruolan arrived at the café, Meng Qiuran was already there. Sister Lin suppressed her excitement as she led her idol inside. “Miss Meng is inside. Please… please enjoy.” The usually brisk and capable boss was stuttering today.

Gu Ruolan knew she was a fan, and Meng Qiuran had explained why she chose this place. She understood what they had done for her previously. “Thank you. I appreciate your hard work,” Gu Ruolan thanked her with a sincere smile.

The private room was small, with a minimalist log-style decor. Meng Qiuran wore a loose, grey, chunky-knit sweater with a white undershirt, paired with slim-fit black cotton trousers and soft sheepskin flats—very casual and relaxed. Gu Ruolan, despite being low-key, had come with the intent of thanking her, so she wore a semi-formal suit.

She had a natural grace that made anything look good. The transition from a coarse floral shirt to a light brown wool stand-collar jacket was seamless. Today she wore medium heels, making her about the same height as Meng Qiuran.

“Since it’s this time, let’s skip the coffee and just eat,” Meng Qiuran handed her the menu. Gu Ruolan chose two of the most popular sets; she clearly didn’t plan on overthinking the food.

As the person who initiated the meeting, it was naturally her turn to start the conversation. Facing the leisurely Meng Qiuran, Gu Ruolan found herself feeling a bit unsettled. She looked up to see Meng Qiuran leaning back comfortably on the sofa, a faint, barely-there smile on her face, looking very at ease. She even saw the other woman lift an eyebrow slightly, as if encouraging her: Say whatever you want.

Gu Ruolan’s fingers lifted twice against her lap before she spoke: “I wanted to understand personally… why did you decide to disband the crew?”

Meng Qiuran acted as if she had expected the question. “I calculated the cost of continued filming against the projected box office. It wasn’t worth it, so I cut my losses in time.”

Gu Ruolan nodded, indicating she understood, but her regret was obvious. It was a pity for a good film.

However, she had another question she wanted to ask even more. Before she could find the words, she heard Meng Qiuran say: “The next movie will be better, so you can hurry up and choose a script.”

A flash of confusion crossed Gu Ruolan’s eyes, followed by a realization of what she meant. “You still intend to continue investing?” What Gu Ruolan didn’t say was: Invest in me?

“Of course.”

Meng Qiuran didn’t look at all pained by the losses from the previous film, as if her money was inexhaustible.

(Meng Qiuran: Oh, look, my wife is even giving me a nickname/The money was worth it!)