CHAPTER 289: Qin & Tang Extra 63

The director of Missing Person, Jiang Shangxian, was fair-skinned and plump, with a kind and benevolent face. When he smiled, his round face resembled the Maitreya Buddha. His personality was equally pleasant, creating a relaxed atmosphere on set.

Tang Ruoyao adapted well to the crew. The male lead she acted alongside was surnamed Liang, a twenty-eight-year-old handsome and cheerful man with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes. He was also an alumnus of the Capital Drama Academy, so Tang Ruoyao called him Senior Liang.

The very first day of shooting was a major scene.

Films usually aren't shot in chronological order but are filmed scene by scene and edited into the final product later. The first scene they shot was the moment the female protagonist, Chang Huan, finally accepted the truth of the male lead's disappearance after days of futile waiting. She started following the address on his last letter, asking people in the vicinity one by one. The scene captured the light and hope in her eyes, the way her shoulders slowly slumped after each denial, and her standing at the end of the street in the bleak twilight, her back thin and fragile, looking around lost, her eyes brimming with tears she stubbornly refused to let fall.

She would keep searching.

With that first scene, Tang Ruoyao silenced those on set who had shared the same prejudices as online critics.

The rest of the filming went smoothly.

Until it was time for her scenes with Senior Liang—flashbacks of their sweet romance.

Tang Ruoyao was somewhat slow to warm up in this regard. The day before shooting int!mate scenes, she had to immerse herself in the emotions so she could channel them naturally the next day.

In other words, she had to become Chang Huan and fall in love with the male lead in the story—now embodied by Senior Liang, who had been around her on set these past few days.

The night before, she already felt strained. She struggled to separate Chang Huan from Tang Ruoyao, especially when a message from Qin Yinong popped up, asking what she was doing. For some reason, her heart fluttered nervously.

[Reading the script], she replied.

Qin Yinong: [Should I not disturb you, then?]

Tang Ruoyao: [No, go ahead and disturb me.] Suppressing that inexplicable unease, she typed, [I miss you a little.]

Qin Yinong: [Then I'll keep you company for a bit.]

Qin Yinong called.

Tang Ruoyao answered but stayed silent.

"Not in a good mood?" Qin Yinong could already detect something off from her quiet breathing.

"A little."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just a temporary low, I guess."

"If I cheer you up, will you feel better?"

"Maybe? Try saying something nice."

Qin Yinong thought for a moment and said, "You're really pretty."

It wasn't the most sophisticated way to comfort someone, but Tang Ruoyao burst out laughing anyway.

"You're so easy to please." Qin Yinong teased.

"Being easy to please is good. Means we won't argue in the future."

"What if we do argue?"

"I'll wag my tail for you?"

Qin Yinong laughed too. "Hahahaha."

But after laughing, her expression stiffened. Tang Ruoyao had become so bold with her suggestive remarks—no longer the shy, blushing little rabbit she once was. The night before she left for the set, she had even tried to get Qin Yinong to "wag her tail" too.

Tang Ruoyao's approach to int!macy was fixed and predictable—you could define her as upright or inflexible—the most adventurous thing she'd do was sit in Qin Yinong's lap and use both her hands and mouth. Qin Yinong, however, was full of tricks. Now that Tang Ruoyao was finally learning her bad habits, Qin Yinong was a little nostalgic for the pure girl she used to be.

Humans are such contradictory creatures.

After exchanging some flirtatious words, time slipped away unnoticed. Qin Yinong, worried about delaying Tang Ruoyao's script reading, urged her to get back to work. Reluctantly, Tang Ruoyao ended the call.

The next day on set, she imagined Senior Liang as Qin Yinong, pretending their sweet daily life was unfolding before her. She managed to get through the scene without a hitch.

But little did she expect that the subsequent scenes with her co-star would become increasingly difficult.

Relying solely on imagination—this crude method—was no longer effective. She switched to her usual approach. Holding the photo of Wei Xueqin, the character Chang Huan's boyfriend in the film, she stared at it all night. During breaks on set, she often sat alone in a corner, repeatedly caressing the slightly yellowed old photo until her eyes reddened, fully immersing herself in the role.

When she saw Senior Liang again, she was almost dazed—was he the real-life Senior Liang or the fictional Wei Xueqin?

Was it Chang Huan who loved him? Or was it herself?

Senior Liang had far more acting experience than her. Occasionally catching Tang Ruoyao's bewildered, lovestruck gaze on set, he understood perfectly. He knew there were actors like her—those who poured their very souls into their performances, burning themselves to embody their roles. Such people were usually geniuses in the acting world. He envied her a little, because this was an innate talent, something effort alone couldn't achieve. But as her senior, he felt obliged to remind her, lest she truly lose herself in the role.

Actors were open and honest—they dedicated themselves to art, so there was nothing they couldn't discuss frankly.

Senior Liang pulled up a small stool and sat beside Tang Ruoyao, despite her evasive gaze.

When Tang Ruoyao first arrived, she had been polite yet distant, composed and graceful. Now, her entire demeanor had shifted—she seemed smaller, more emotional, weathered by life's hardships, much like the character Chang Huan.

Senior Liang suddenly felt even more envious.

D@mn it...

Comparisons really were the thief of joy.

Clearing his throat, Senior Liang began, "I have a girlfriend."

Tang Ruoyao glanced at him, then lowered her eyes and replied, "I have a girlfriend too."

Senior Liang choked.

Was he here to compete over girlfriends?

After struggling internally—after all, it was awkward for a man to bring this up, and he risked coming across as presumptuous—he finally said, "I've noticed you've been looking at me a bit... differently lately?"

Tang Ruoyao nodded. "I've noticed too."

Senior Liang exhaled in relief—at least she wasn't snapping at him. He continued, "Are you letting the character affect you too much? Let me tell you, I have tons of bad habits—smoking, drinking, picking at my feet, and I'm lazy as hell. I never do housework..."

To shatter any idealized image she might have of him, Senior Liang didn't hesitate to dump buckets of metaphorical filth on himself. He concluded, "Perfect boyfriends only exist in movies and novels. In real life, if someone has even a tenth of that, it's a miracle. I don't even have a tenth."

Tang Ruoyao chuckled.

Senior Liang panicked. Had he accidentally made things worse? What if she now thought he was refreshingly different from other pretentious men and fell for him even harder?

Scratching his head in frustration, he said, "Anyway... just think about your girlfriend more often. Off set, live your real life." If all else failed, he could just avoid her until filming wrapped—she'd naturally detach from the role then.

"Got it. Thanks for the reminder, Senior." Tang Ruoyao smiled, sweeter than ever.

Senior Liang was panicking so hard his scalp was tingling when he saw Tang Ruoyao stand up and look behind him, her lips curving into a dazzlingly bright smile.

Senior Liang turned his head to look, nearly toppling off his stool in shock.

Stammering, he said, "Q-Qin, the award-winning actress."

Qin Yinong glanced down at him coolly. "Hello."

Senior Brother Liang and his stool vanished instantly.

Tang Ruoyao gazed steadily at the woman she had been longing for and said softly, "You came so fast."

In such a public setting, Qin Yinong didn't immediately embrace her. Instead, she took her hand and led her to the break room. Once the door was closed, she pulled Tang Ruoyao into her arms and indulged in a thorough bout of affection, leaving traces of her lipstick on Tang Ruoyao's collar.

Qin Yinong buried her face in the crook of Tang Ruoyao's neck, inhaling deeply as if intoxicated by her scent.

The way she did it reminded Tang Ruoyao of the fox spirits from the Strange Tales TV dramas she watched as a child—those who fed on the life force of men.

Tang Ruoyao cradled Qin Yinong's head, pulling her even closer.

She had missed her too.

But the reason Qin Yinong had come to visit the set was a phone call Tang Ruoyao had made to her the night before.

Tang Ruoyao had realized her problem even faster than Senior Liang. She had tried to find a way to resolve it, but the effect was minimal. Forcing herself to withdraw would have affected her filming, so she turned to Qin Yinong for help.

Before making the call, she had been a little nervous. Even though it was for the sake of acting, there was still the suspicion of emotional inf!delity. She had already prepared herself—no matter how Qin Yinong wanted to punish her, whether it was making her wag her tail or take the initiative, she would fully cooperate.

If Qin Yinong scolded her, that would be fine. But if she ended up hurt because of this, Tang Ruoyao would feel like the worst sinner in the world.

Who would have thought Qin Yinong wouldn't say a word about it, only telling her to wait for her at the set because she would come soon? Less than twelve hours after hanging up, Qin Yinong was standing right in front of her.

Qin Yinong spent the entire afternoon on set watching Tang Ruoyao film.

With her official girlfriend present, Tang Ruoyao didn't spare Senior Liang a single glance off-camera. Senior Liang, meanwhile, was so mortified by the thought that Qin Yinong had overheard his earlier words that he wished he could vanish into the ground. He avoided both of them, and the rest of the day passed peacefully.

After wrapping up in the evening, Tang Ruoyao took Qin Yinong back to the hotel, with Guan Han trailing behind with the luggage.

In the ascending elevator, Tang Ruoyao asked quietly, "Are you staying here?"

Qin Yinong watched the flickering floor numbers and said, "Isn't it only natural that I stay with you?"

"That's not what I meant. Don't you have work?"

Qin Yinong turned to look at her. "Work isn't as important as you."

Tang Ruoyao lowered her gaze.

She wasn't the type to expect her lover to neglect her duties for her sake. She wanted both of them to remain independent individuals, drawn together by mutual attraction, making decisions together and sharing burdens. They might indulge occasionally, but they would never let it interfere with each other's lives.

Qin Yinong pinched her cheek and smiled. "Don't worry, I've arranged everything. It won't affect my work. If you don't believe me, ask Guan Han."

Tang Ruoyao looked at Guan Han.

Guan Han's solemn expression at that moment was particularly convincing.

The crew had arranged a queen-sized room for Tang Ruoyao. Qin Yinong didn't book another room and instead moved straight in with her. Being publicly together had its perks—they could be open and natural anywhere, without worrying about cameras in the elevators or hallways capturing their intimacy.

Guan Han's room was next to Tang Ruoyao's, each with their own space—living more luxuriously than their boss.

Qin Yinong lifted the electric kettle on the table, found it empty, and went to the bathroom to fill it before returning to boil water. Meanwhile, Guan Han was organizing the luggage Qin Yinong had brought—bedding sets, some spare clothes, perfume, jewelry, and skincare products.

The room had a balcony with a wicker chair. Qin Yinong sat there, holding Tang Ruoyao on her lap, her chin resting on the younger woman's shoulder, her lips brushing against her skin now and then, stealing kisses with quiet delight.

Guan Han took slightly longer than usual to finish unpacking before tactfully excusing herself and closing the door behind her.

Tang Ruoyao traced the back of Qin Yinong's hand where it rested around her waist and murmured, "Aren't you angry?"

"Why would I be angry?" Qin Yinong nibbled lightly at the delicate skin beneath her lips, her voice muffled.

Tang Ruoyao rephrased, "Aren't you jealous?"

"I've been jealous this whole time."

The spot where Qin Yinong's teeth grazed tingled with a cool, slick wetness, sending a shiver down Tang Ruoyao's spine. Her limbs weakened, and she nearly lost her balance.

Qin Yinong continued teasing her slowly.

Tang Ruoyao instinctively squirmed, her breath uneven as she gasped, "The balcony... someone outside... might see... us... mmm—"

Qin Yinong silenced her with a kiss, then carried her back inside and drew the curtains.

......

The room was dim, the only light filtering faintly through the sheer curtains. Tang Ruoyao was damp with sweat as Qin Yinong's pale fingers combed through a lock of her dark hair before burying her face against her once more. Tang Ruoyao bit her lower lip, suppressing a moan, her only recourse being to cling tightly to Qin Yinong.

Qin Yinong's jealousy had simmered for a long time—and it was fierce.

Lost in the sensations Qin Yinong evoked, Tang Ruoyao forgot all about shame.

"Why did you call him Senior Brother?" Qin Yinong scattered light kisses along her lover's lips.

"Because..." Tang Ruoyao's words came in broken fragments, "he went to the same school as me."

Qin Yinong moved to her soft earlobe, her voice laced with quiet grievance. "I went to the same school as you too."

"Since when..." Tang Ruoyao's breath hitched as she swallowed back a whimper, gripping Qin Yinong's wrist helplessly. "Did we go to the same school?"

Qin Yinong bit down sharply before growling in her ear, "I was your teacher! You were even called shiniang [Teacher's Wife]—are you trying to take it back now?"

Tang Ruoyao: "..."

Hesitantly, she tested, "Then... Teacher Qin?"

Qin Yinong frowned. "Drop the 'Qin.'" Too many people called her that.

Obliging, Tang Ruoyao amended, "Teacher."

Her already flushed ears burned even hotter.

Qin Yinong had just opened another door to a new world—the adult world was far too much.

Pleased, Qin Yinong kissed her. "Say it again."

Tang Ruoyao squirmed. "Teacher."

Qin Yinong stroked her cheek, eyes curved in amusement. "Good girl. Teacher will take care of you."

Tang Ruoyao's entire body reacted—heat rushed to her face, her bl0od boiling in her veins. Even though they were only embracing now, it felt as if countless ants were crawling under her skin, gnawing with an almost unbearable ache.

Unable to resist, she shifted, releasing Qin Yinong's wrist to tilt her face up and kiss her first.

She was as soft and entwining as a vine, as gentle and accommodating as flowing water. Qin Yinong could hardly control herself—from the room to the bathroom, then back to the soft, plush bed.

Qin Yinong picked up Tang Ruoyao's script and began flipping through it. Tang Ruoyao lay beside her, yawning, her eyelids nearly glued together.

Qin Yinong said, "Sleep for a while. I'll wake you up later."

Tang Ruoyao collapsed into sleep.

An hour later, Qin Yinong roused the drowsy "Little Pig Tang." Tang Ruoyao's mind was still foggy with sleep, so she raised her hand and slapped herself across the face. After rubbing her cheek, she said, "I'm awake now."

Qin Yinong: "..." She gritted her teeth. "If you keep waking yourself up like that, don't bother getting up at all."

Tang Ruoyao, guilty, said, "I was wrong."

Qin Yinong had serious matters to attend to, so she set the issue aside for now. "I have a script here." She turned the iPad on her lap toward Tang Ruoyao. "Take a look first, then act it out with me later."

Tang Ruoyao thought: 'What?'

She propped herself up, took the iPad, and scrolled through it carefully.

The script wasn't long—just a scene between two characters: her and Qin Yinong. The setup was that they were enemies.

Tang Ruoyao: "???"

Qin Yinong said, "If you need to truly fall in love with someone to act out a romance, does that mean you have to hate me to perform this scene well? Or would hating me in the scene make you hate me in real life too?"

Tang Ruoyao flipped back and forth between the two pages of the script, her expression anxious.

"No need to be so nervous." Qin Yinong cupped her chin and lifted her face. "I'm seriously discussing acting methods with you. You don't have to think of me as your lover right now."

Tang Ruoyao's mind wandered inappropriately: 'Wouldn't thinking of her as a teacher be even worse? I'd be stripping off my clothes in no time.'

She quickly dismissed these chaotic thoughts and focused on the new script.

The script was a short excerpt from one of Qin Yinong's past films, and Tang Ruoyao was familiar with the characters' relationship. After they finished rehearsing, Qin Yinong frowned.

"Have you always been like this?" Qin Yinong sat on the sofa, tapping her knee with her index finger.

Tang Ruoyao sat across from her. "Like what?"

Qin Yinong: "Turning yourself into another person."

Tang Ruoyao's expression grew anxious again. She wanted to chew on her nails like Wen Shuxian, but she had none—only bare fingertips. She settled for picking at the fabric of her pajama pants instead.

Qin Yinong reassured her, "Just answer honestly. I won't get angry. It's not something you can't talk about, so why are you so afraid?"

Tang Ruoyao stayed silent for a long time.

Qin Yinong waited patiently.

Tang Ruoyao pressed her lips together, then said, "I've always acted this way. No one ever told me it was wrong. Past directors, even Director Jiang now, have praised me for it. But now you're saying my approach is flawed, and I agree with you. But if I don't act this way, all the conviction I've built up before will collapse."

An actor's conviction is crucial—they must first believe in the character themselves before the audience can be moved to believe in them too.

Qin Yinong extended a finger and said, "First, I never said there was anything wrong with your performance." She explained patiently, "You have a natural talent for acting. As a fellow actress, I deeply admire you—even I couldn't achieve what you do. My concern has always been that this kind of performance takes too heavy a toll on you."

Many artists, both domestic and international, have suffered from depression due to immersing themselves too deeply in their roles, some even spiraling into self-destruction. The line between passion and ruin is often perilously thin.

In other words, it's like losing oneself in the role.

Qin Yinong gazed at her steadily and said, "It pains me to see you like this." And she feared the worst might happen.

Tang Ruoyao rose from her chair, knelt on one knee before her, and placed the woman's palm against her cheek.

Qin Yinong gently stroked her face and said, "I'll stay here for a while and teach you how to rebuild your sense of belief in the character—not as Chang Huan resurrected off-screen, but as you portraying Chang Huan. There's no need to completely overturn your approach, your performance has invaluable strengths, and I still have much to learn from you."

She held out her hand. "Give me the script."

The news of Qin Yinong visiting Tang Ruoyao on the set of Missing Person quickly trended the next day.

Photos circulated online showed the two sitting side by side on set—Tang Ruoyao holding the script while Qin Yinong cradled a thermos in one hand and a pastry in the other, waiting to feed her with a doting smile.

Netizens' reactions were polarized:

[I'm so jealous I could d!e!]

[This ship is k!lling me!]

[Qin Yinong is spoiling her wife rotten—following her to set, serving tea, massaging her waist, and pampering her like royalty.]

[Am I the only one who thinks this is just for show? Ugh.]

Wen Shuxian, browsing online with an alternate account, promptly roasted the last commenter before blocking them.

Qin Yinong temporarily relocated to City H, where Tang Ruoyao was filming. She flew out for work commitments and returned to City H's airport openly, without hiding.

Netizens were astonished to find Qin Yinong continuously visiting the set, eventually growing numb to the updates. Three months later, when Missing Person wrapped, the official crew account released a photo of Qin Yinong and Tang Ruoyao together.

The celebratory bouquet was from Qin Yinong—a vibrant bouquet of red roses. Tang Ruoyao held the flowers, her eyes crinkling with joy.

Public opinion gradually shifted:

[Accompanying her on set for three whole months, no matter how busy, always returning to her girlfriend's side—what kind of fairy-tale love is this? I'm d3ad!]

[Kicking my legs in my coffin like a bicycle.]

[I used to want to steal Qin Yinong's wife, now I want to steal Tang Ruoyao's wife. [exhales smoke in resignation.jpg]]

[Join this fandom, and you'll triple your happiness. Qin-Tang forever!]

After over three months apart, the four roommates of Dorm 405 reunited at school.

This semester marked their senior year—they were now graduating students. Three fleeting years had slipped by like flowing water. Wen Shuxian had the busiest summer among them, juggling commercial appearances, advertisements, and landing a lead role in a new historical romance drama. The costume stills surprised everyone—she looked unexpectedly perfect for the role. Wen Shuxian had found her niche in idol dramas and was now riding a wave of popularity.

Fu Yujun's role as Consort Xi in The Great Tang wrapped in two months, and she soon auditioned for another leading role, set to begin filming shortly.

Cui Jiaran wasn't idle either. The theater was filled with seasoned artists, and she felt like a dry sponge, soaking up every bit of knowledge during her internship to enrich herself.

The senior year's course schedule wasn't as packed as the previous three years. More and more students had left campus—some for internships, others constantly attending auditions, while a few had recognized the harsh realities of this profession early on and switched career paths ahead of time.

Like panning for gold in turbulent waters, no matter the industry, only that small handful of exceptional individuals who ride the waves are ultimately remembered.

Even in Room 405, the time they could spend together was becoming increasingly scarce.

Throughout her senior year, Wen Shuxian was constantly shuttling between filming sets and commercial events, appearing like a fleeting dragon—seen one moment and gone the next. In the news, she was spotted with ash-blue hair, sunglasses, flanked by assistants and black-suited bodyguards, surrounded by screaming fans wherever she went. As the rising star of Huanyu Pictures [Universe Entertainment], her fanbase had surged to become the largest among their dormmates.

Straightforward and outspoken by nature, her fame came with its share of controversies. She frequently found herself trending for the wrong reasons, prompting her fans to beg her to speak less while simultaneously transforming into fierce defenders, engaging in endless online battles. The more they fought, the more loyal they became.

There was a peculiar phenomenon in the industry: female stars were more likely to rebound from rock bottom, turning hate into popularity, unlike their male counterparts whose fans were often more fervent. Female stars didn't always benefit from fan-driven economies—while their supporters might be vocal, broader public appeal mattered more. As long as they had no legal scandals and delivered solid work, one hit drama could turn things around. Male idols came and went in waves, but female "stars" enjoyed longer-lasting fame. Many of the actresses who rose to stardom over a decade ago were still thriving in the industry. Wen Shuxian was no exception, churning out hit after hit, dominating ratings and securing investors, leaving her rivals in the dust.

Fu Yujun and Tang Ruoyao were no different—one landed a new TV series, the other a film. Only Cui Jiaran remained in the dorm, laying a solid foundation for her thesis and offering tired roommates an occasional hug when they returned.

That year, the Qin and Tang families gathered for a New Year's dinner. On the second day of the lunar year, Qin Yinong took Tang Ruoyao to visit Han Yuping, the mentor who had been like a second father to her. Han Yuping was different from Tang Ruoyao's expectations—online videos showed him stern and imposing, yet he smiled warmly at her, even exuding a hint of paternal affection.

Han Yuping and his wife, Liang Shu, shared a deep bond, weathering life's storms together without children of their own. To them, Qin Yinong was their daughter. Liang Shu led Tang Ruoyao to the study, donned her glasses, and showed her a scrapbook she had made—filled with Qin Yinong's film stills, promotional photos, awards, and even viewing records. It was a more meticulous archive than even Ji Shulan, Qin Yinong's birth mother, could claim.

The couple stayed at the Han residence until evening. On the drive back, Tang Ruoyao took the wheel while Qin Yinong watched through the rearview mirror as Han Yuping and Liang Shu stood at the gate, their figures growing smaller and smaller until they vanished from sight.

A wistful expression crossed Qin Yinong's face.

Tang Ruoyao glanced at her. "What's wrong?"

Qin Yinong remained lost in thought.

"Baby?" Tang Ruoyao called again.

"Hmm." Qin Yinong responded but didn't turn her gaze. Outside the window, a faint mist seemed to linger.

"What's the matter?"

Qin Yinong frowned. "Nothing." She opened her mouth but heard no sound. Then, enunciating clearly, she repeated, "I'm fine."

As her words faded, the mist shattered like a spiderweb-covered pane of glass, dissolving into nothingness.

The car now moved smoothly along the brightly lit city streets. Beside her, her young lover's profile was focused, her slender hands steady on the wheel.

Everything felt undeniably real.

Author's Note: 

Second-to-last chapter of Side Story 2 (probably?).

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