Substitute Lover [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 92

In the end, the two parties exchanged cars.

Luo Yan’s manager said the color of her gown was too vivid and the car was too conspicuous; the two together would be too flashy and likely invite gossip, making it an unsafe choice.

Exchanging it for Jiang Cha’s black car seemed just right.

This logic was both somewhat reasonable and completely unreasonable.

However, exchanging cars was a minor matter, seemingly not worth fussing over. After a brief negotiation, they agreed.

To get from the seaside hotel to the Palais des Festivals, one had to pass through a secluded mountain road.

There wasn’t much traffic. Once in the car, Yang Yan began briefing her on the general process, and Jiang Cha responded softly.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s okay if you don’t win. At least you were nominated.”

“Mm.”

Yang Yan glanced at the traffic outside and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good thing. We absolutely cannot be late today.”

“Are the consequences of being late very serious?”

“Of course. In exceptional circumstances, the power to decide lies with the Jury President. There was an actress once who missed the awards ceremony because of an accident on the road. She was originally set to win Best Actress, but they replaced her at the last minute.”

“They can do that?”

“Yes. So no matter what happens, you must not be late, and definitely cannot be absent. You must enter when it’s time to enter. Even if you get into a car accident, you have to be carried in on a stretcher.”

The driver in the front couldn’t help but chuckle a few times upon hearing this.

The atmosphere in the car was quite relaxed. Jiang Cha leaned against the window, relaxing slightly as she watched the blue sea glimmering through the tree branches behind the light gray glass.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

Jiang Cha looked down; it was Ji Fan.

“Hello?”

The usually calm Ji Fan sounded somewhat tense on the other end: “Where are you?”

“On the road.”

Jiang Cha smiled gently: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bit worried.”

“Worried about what?”

As Jiang Cha spoke, she happened to glance at the rearview mirror and froze instantly.

Her pupils contracted, and a sudden chill ran down her spine.

“He’s back.”

“Who?”

Jiang Cha’s fingers grew cold and clammy with sweat. She turned around. Through the thick glass of the car, that inconspicuous silver-gray Audi was following behind them, neither too far nor too close.

As if sensing Jiang Cha’s gaze, the man removed his sunglasses, his cold, grim eyes staring straight at her.

Besides him, the men in the passenger and back seats were also wearing T-shirts, their expressions dark and cold.

“There’s more than one… there are others, a lot of people.”

Jiang Cha’s voice trembled slightly.

Yang Yan looked back, and her face instantly turned deathly pale.

In that moment, she finally began to think—why did Luo Yan suddenly want to exchange cars with them?

“What if something happens to Jiang Cha and the others?”

Luo Yan sat in the car that originally belonged to Jiang Cha, feeling slightly apprehensive. “They won’t… kill anyone, will they?”

“No.”

Chen Mo said indifferently: “Even if someone dies, it won’t be traced back to you.”

Luo Yan was still worried.

Chen Mo glanced at her: “Fortunately, she looks like you. Otherwise, the one in trouble today would have been you.”

“No,” Luo Yan said. “If something really happens, they’ll definitely find us.”

“We are victims too,” Chen Mo said coldly. “Who knows whose people those are following us? Maybe they belong to Jiang Cha’s side.”

“Impossible.” Luo Yan frowned. “It’s more likely Zhang Zifeng…”

“Regardless of whose people they are, you must understand: you must attend this awards ceremony on time. If you don’t go, the award will belong to someone else.”

Indeed, on the day of the opening ceremony, that gray car had clearly been following Luo Yan’s red car.

The people they were targeting weren’t Jiang Cha at all.

It was Luo Yan!

If nothing happened, it would be fine, but once an accident occurred…

No, even if an accident happened, Luo Yan wouldn’t suffer.

The victim would be Jiang Cha, and Luo Yan wouldn’t even have to bear any responsibility.

After all, she hadn’t sent those people.

Even if a real tragedy occurred, the police wouldn’t be able to trace it back to them.

Jiang Cha and Luo Yan looked so similar; this time—

Bang!

The silver-gray car suddenly swerved at a curve, scraping against them from the rear diagonal. The sound of colliding metal pierced their eardrums. Jiang Cha was jolted by the impact; her phone fell from her ear and slammed against the window.

“Help!”

Yang Yan screamed shrilly.

The red Maserati, hit by the impact, slid toward the guardrail and smashed into it out of control. The glass shattered into a spiderweb, obscuring the view outside. The driver was terrified and jerked the steering wheel hard, trying to return to the road, but the man in the car behind them floored the accelerator, circled in front of their car, and blocked the path sideways.

The two cars collided violently with a thunderous bang.

Jiang Cha was pinned to her seat by her seatbelt, panting heavily.

She was shaking all over, trying to unbuckle her belt to escape, but she saw the door of the car in front open. Four or five men stepped out, their hands reaching toward their waists.

The leader’s gun was cocked; he pulled the trigger.

Bang!

On the other side.

The venue was nearly full. The lights on the golden stage surged to life, and the giant Palme d’Or sculpture shimmered. Below, the dense crowd of guests and spectators had taken their seats. Amidst the rustling sounds, the host walked slowly onto the stage holding a microphone.

Ji Fan sat in her seat.

It was empty.

“Excuse me?”

He approached.

People shook their heads, indicating they didn’t know. Song Baiwei stood up immediately to talk to the staff, her expression grim.

The staff understood the situation, nodded, and headed backstage.

Luo Yan looked at the still-empty seat, her heart skipping a beat.

What if something really happened—

Backstage.

The host frowned slightly.

He looked at the winners’ list, feeling very conflicted—the Best Actress was actually absent from the ceremony. Did she intend to voluntarily forfeit the award?

Similar situations had occurred in previous years. The Jury President’s decision then was to give the award to the actress with the second-highest number of votes.

If this one forfeited, who was the runner-up?

What a pity.

The bullet veered off course, hitting the side window and leaving a bullet hole.

It had flown almost right past her face.

Jiang Cha gasped for breath, looking out through the webbed, shattered glass.

The leader in the gray T-shirt had his arm grabbed by another person who appeared out of nowhere. The two began to scuffle. Then, someone among the group fired again, hitting the first man’s arm. A spray of blood splattered across the ground in a grisly red. Through the car’s side mirror, she saw a space-gray Porsche pull up behind them. The doors flew open, and three or four men ran out in a hurry.

The last to emerge was a woman.

“Jiang Cha—!”

She ran forward frantically, pressing against the spiderwebbed window and desperately trying to look inside. Jiang Cha began pounding on the glass, shouting: “Here! I’m here—!”

A blurry silhouette was reflected on the glass. Ji Fan’s legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed to her knees.

Ji Fan pulled the door handle with all her might. The door had been severely deformed by the crash. After pulling for a long time, the door finally flew open with a clack.

Jiang Cha’s eyes were full of tears. Ji Fan reached out to wipe them, pulling her into a tight embrace, her own breath trembling. She soothed her by her neck:

“The police are called. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Jiang Cha huddled in her arms, her nose catching the faint, crisp scent of Ji Fan. Though cool, it provided a warm, grounding touch that was both safe and relaxing.

The bodyguards Ji Fan brought were clearly more agile than these men. The groups tangled together, the smell of blood filling the air. Intermittent gunshots made their hearts ache with blunt pain, but looking out the window, it was impossible to tell who was who anymore.

“Thank God you came.”

Yang Yan clutched her chest, scared half to death. “This is the first time in my life I’ve encountered such a thing! They fired guns! We almost died!”

The driver leaned over the steering wheel, covered in a cold sweat.

Jiang Cha’s forehead was bruised and red, but fortunately, there were no major injuries. Ji Fan relaxed slightly, took a wet wipe from her bag, and wiped her temple. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

Jiang Cha shook her head.

Yang Yan sighed, looking at the wreckage outside, wondering if they could still make it back.

“What happened?”

Ji Fan asked. “Why was the car changed?”

“Luo Yan wanted to change it. Who knows why.”

Yang Yan said crossly, “Maybe she knew she was going to be targeted and did it on purpose.”

Ji Fan frowned, falling into silent thought.

The sound of sirens echoed from behind.

Soon, a group of police cars cordoned off the scene. Several SWAT officers exited their vehicles, drawing their pistols from their waists.

Inside the Palais des Festivals.

The jury was discussing the list: whether to switch the Best Actress to the runner-up, Luo Yan, or have the director accept the award on behalf of the actress.

The Jury President stated that, referring to previous awards, it was better to replace the winner.

The others chimed in in agreement.

The host then crossed out Jiang Cha’s name on his script and replaced it with Luo Yan.

“Can you reach them?”

Luo Yan asked Song Baiwei with feigned concern. “Did the call go through?”

“No.”

After several attempts, the phone remained turned off. After a while, Song Baiwei switched to calling Jiang Cha’s manager.

This time, it went through.

Jiang Cha’s phone was smashed, but Yang Yan’s was still intact. In the car, the phone rang a moment later.

She answered.

“Hello? Where are you guys?” It was Song Baiwei’s voice.

“There was an accident on the road. Jiang Cha hit her head; she has a headache, so she might not come.”

“Not coming?”

Song Baiwei frowned. “If she wins, who will accept it?”

“Wins?”

Yang Yan didn’t dare think about it.

At most, the film would win, or the director. As for the actors?

While she hoped Jiang Cha would win, the Cannes jury typically favored experienced actors over novices; the probability of it being Jiang Cha was low. Furthermore, the selection for Best Actress is independent of whether the film wins the Palme d’Or. Among the 19 films, there were many actresses with great performances; it wasn’t necessarily her.

Besides, it was already so late. Would they make it in time?

“Her performance in this movie was truly brilliant,” Song Baiwei frowned, explaining stubbornly. “What if she really wins? She won’t come?”

Jiang Cha vaguely overheard the conversation and hesitated, but Ji Fan gently pushed her shoulder: “Go.”

Jiang Cha then leaned toward the receiver: “I’m coming. Director Song, please wait!”

Half an hour later.

The staff guarding the entrance saw a woman in a long gown approaching from a distance.

She was walking in a great hurry.

Her hair was messy, the styling long gone. Her makeup was smudged, and there was a red bruise on her forehead, looking as if she had just escaped a brawl.

The staff spoke English. After a difficult few minutes of gesturing, the staff still wouldn’t let her in.

“Jiang Cha!”

A familiar woman appeared at the door.

Song Baiwei.

“What happened?” She frowned. “How did you end up like this?”

Song Baiwei was followed by another staff member. That person pointed at Jiang Cha and questioned Song Baiwei; Song Baiwei nodded. Jiang Cha was then led backstage in a daze. A woman pressed her shoulders down, made her sit in front of a mirror, tidied her hair, and touched up her makeup.

After a while, the host came backstage with a microphone to hurry them.

“OK.”

The makeup artist lifted her chin to admire her for a moment, then pushed her shoulder to send her onto the stage.

Jiang Cha: “?”

Brilliant white light hit her face. For a long moment, she was blinded.

Amidst the white void, she saw a woman standing at the entrance behind the rows of seats, watching her quietly.

Ji Fan.

Across many, many silhouettes, Jiang Cha looked in her direction.

The person was far away, her features indistinguishable. Yet, for some reason, Jiang Cha felt she must be smiling right now.

Suddenly, applause erupted from the audience.

It came like a tidal wave.

The host was speaking French, mixed with simultaneous Chinese translation; it sounded very chaotic. Jiang Cha didn’t understand until the very last sentence of the delayed simultaneous interpretation pierced her eardrums:

“……Best Actress, Jiang Cha—!”