`Chapter 21

Chapter 21

During a break in filming that day, Shi Yin quietly observed Xiang Tingyan.

Although this girl had a bizarre way of thinking, she was fairly diligent with her hands and feet, doing whatever needed to be done. At least she wasn’t a pampered young lady descending from some high tower.

After wrapping up work in the evening, Shi Yin took Xiang Tingyan to eat and chose a nearby traditional hot pot restaurant.

As soon as they lifted the curtain, Xiang Tingyan exclaimed dramatically, “Wow!”

“Yin Yin, look! This is a celebrity canteen!” She tugged on Shi Yin’s sleeve, pointing at the wall full of photos, excited. “Even Best Actress Shen Wei has been here!”

“The owner is from Sichuan Province,” Shi Yin calmly found a seat by the window. “All the hot pot base ingredients are homemade.”

Xiang Tingyan looked around and suddenly covered her mouth, pointing to a corner: “People in costumes are eating over there! They’re filming a fantasy martial arts drama, right? Ahhh, it’s Gao Ziyang!” She stomped her foot in excitement. “I’ve seen him play the Eastern Yi God!”

She then lifted her phone and started snapping photos of that table, the camera flashes “clicking” repeatedly, glaring in the dim restaurant.

Shi Yin reached out and covered the camera lens, her voice calm: “Don’t use the flash. Eating is private time. Actors off-duty are ordinary people too. You’re disturbing them like this.”

“Oh—” Xiang Tingyan pouted and put her phone away, still gazing longingly at the table.

While ordering, Shi Yin noticed that the table in front had a child seat, where a small baby sat. Fine soft hair tied into two little pigtails with red ribbons. The baby was drinking from a bottle, gulping happily, black grape-like eyes staring unblinking at her, full of infant curiosity.

Shi Yin’s playful side surfaced.

She raised the menu to cover her face, and three seconds later dropped it abruptly, making a cute funny face at the baby.

“Giggly giggle—” The baby laughed out loud, kicking chubby little feet in the air joyfully.

Seeing the baby so entertained, Shi Yin pressed her advantage, extending her right hand like a claw and whispered “Awoo.” The baby gleefully flailed, even knocking the bottle to the floor.

The young parents turned at the noise, and Shi Yin immediately pretended nothing had happened, lowering her gaze to the menu.

Xiang Tingyan leaned over and whispered, “Yin Yin, that kid is copying your funny face!”

Sure enough, the baby was trying hard to imitate Shi Yin’s expression, squishing the round little face into all sorts of shapes. The young mother noticed and nodded at Shi Yin with an amused yet helpless expression.

“Your yin-yang hot pot is here, please be careful—”

The waiter carefully carried a huge copper pot with both hands, placing it steadily in the center of the table, then adjusted the heat. The rising steam carried the rich aroma of beef tallow. The red broth bubbled vigorously, while the mushroom broth simmered gently, instantly making one’s appetite surge.

Shi Yin picked up a slice of tripe, dipping it in the red broth with three rises and falls, and casually asked, “How did you decide to become an artist’s assistant?”

“Just a random internship in senior year,” Xiang Tingyan replied while busy arranging rolls of fatty beef on the strainer, speaking without guile. “Later, after graduation, I couldn’t find a job, so I just kept doing it.”

“Your family agreed too?” Shi Yin looked up.

“My dad asked my second uncle back home to arrange a job,” Xiang Tingyan pouted. “But sitting in an office is too boring. This line is more fun.”

Shi Yin dipped the blanched tripe into the dipping sauce, then splashed a bit of cold water in consideration: “Maybe… it’s not as fun as you think.”

“No way!” Xiang Tingyan looked incredulous. “Shooting a drama seems like playing house to me. Recite lines, pose, it’s so simple!”

Seeing her innocent, untested-by-life expression, Shi Yin didn’t elaborate. She couldn’t tell her how twisted the entertainment industry really was. When someone’s having fun, telling them harsh truths only falls on deaf ears. She simply murmured, “Mm,” and put the crisp tripe in her mouth.

Halfway through the meal, suddenly, an intense argument broke out on the other side of the aisle.

A red-faced drunk staggered to the back table, pointing at the nose of a young man nearby, cursing: “You little brat! Where the hell are you looking? You dare to stare at my woman? Don’t you want your eyes anymore?!”

The accused young man refused to back down, straightening his neck and snapping back: “She’s dressed like that for people to look! What’s wrong with glancing? If you’re capable, stay home and don’t go out!”

“Say that again?!” The drunk man suddenly drew a switchblade from his back waist. “You want me to open your eyes?”

He brandished the knife threateningly, while the young man flinched in panic.

The dispute escalated instantly!

Surrounding diners scrambled, giving space, while onlookers raised their phones to record. “Better post this on social media first,” they thought.

Shi Yin wiped her mouth, lowered her hat, and grabbed the still-eating Xiang Tingyan: “Let’s go.”

Xiang Tingyan, holding half a fried dough stick, looked up blankly: “But we haven’t finished eating…”

“Eat somewhere else outside,” Shi Yin frowned. “It’s too dangerous here. Hot soup everywhere. What if it spills…”

Before she finished speaking, the waiter happened to be carrying freshly made spicy broth toward their table. The knife-wielding drunk went berserk, swinging a chair wildly. The threatened young man stumbled backward straight into the waiter!

“Careful—!”

Amid the rising cries, Shi Yin turned sharply. She saw the waiter also noticing the man lunging toward them, panic-stricken, holding the pot and trying to turn it, stepping backward repeatedly: “No, no, no, don’t come this way! Watch out!!”

If he didn’t move, it would be fine. But as soon as he did, the deadly hot oil from the pot tilted directly toward the child seat at the table in front!

The young man realized something was wrong, but his feet couldn’t stop in time. The disaster was about to happen—

Shi Yin’s pupils constricted sharply.

Her body acted faster than her brain.

With the crisp shattering of a porcelain bowl, she sprang like a leopard, flipping over the partition. Everyone’s vision blurred for a moment as she precisely grabbed the young man’s collar, pressed down on the back of his neck, yanked him back violently, and using the momentum from turning, drove her right knee into the back of his waist.

“Bang!”

The lean young man, about 1.7 meters tall, was effortlessly thrown to the ground by her, the whole set of movements smooth as flowing water, taking less than three seconds.

“Whoosh—”

The boiling broth spilled half a meter away from the child seat, steam and spicy oil rising.

The entire restaurant went silent.

The young man didn’t even utter a sound, pressed like a broken sack into the puddle of red oil. His eyes went wide, his soul seemingly about to drift away.

Shi Yin kneeled on him, glanced to confirm that the baby, held tightly in its mother’s arms, was safe, then grabbed a wet towel from the table and methodically wiped up the spilled red oil.

“They’ve got a knife. Call the police, let them sort it out at the station,” Shi Yin said calmly to the arriving owner.

The restrained young man shivered, angrily shouting, “Who do you think you are—”

“Oh my god! It’s Lin Yutong!” a diner suddenly exclaimed, “That… that dismemberment criminal!”

Shi Yin’s hand froze slightly while wiping.

Countless suspicious and curious eyes immediately turned toward her.

“?!” The young man’s neck shrank, his body and voice softened simultaneously. “No! Sister! I’ll pay, I’ll pay for everything…”

The diner realizing their mistake quickly waved their hands to explain: “No, no! I meant the character she played! Haven’t you seen Saint in the Mist? She played that forensic doctor who dismembered someone for revenge.”

“Ohhh, that drama!” a woman with curly hair immediately jumped in, enthusiastically explaining, “My daughter watches it every day at home, crying so much.”

Actors were plentiful in Yunxi, so once everyone understood, they relaxed, chattering excitedly:

“What drama? Is it good?”

“Which channel is it on?”

“Butterfly Video? I don’t have a subscription… Can you lend me one?”

Earlier, the young parents holding their child stepped forward. The mother’s eyes were red, her voice choked: “Thank you so much. If it weren’t for you just now—”

Shi Yin smiled gently at her, tugging the still-stunned Xiang Tingyan: “Time to go.”

Xiang Tingyan snapped awake and stood, her phone screen still lit.

Shi Yin glanced at it, lowering her voice: “Wow, you’re fast. Did you manage to record it all?”

“Record what?” Xiang Tingyan blinked, puzzled. “I was just scrolling short videos and forgot to turn it off.”

Shi Yin closed her eyes. Figures—she thought you were holding up your phone the whole time but recorded nothing, just spaced out?

She then politely asked a diner who had recorded the whole incident for a video. The diner, thinking “Even if I don’t know who she is, she’s still a celebrity,” gladly exchanged the video for a photo and autograph with Shi Yin.

Shi Yin knew the entertainment world’s public opinion too well—truth often becomes unrecognizable in the spread.

She had no intention of stirring up publicity, but having witnessed too many taken-out-of-context farces, she knew it was better to have proof rather than risk landing on a hot topic with a sensational headline like “Shocking! Actor Shi Yin beats young man on the street, suspected domestic violence ex-boyfriend”—better safe than sorry.

Better to be cautious.

On the way back to the hotel, the two unexpectedly ran into Ye Peiqian in the elevator.

She wore only a dark green silk slip dress, the soft fabric tracing her graceful curves. The script rested lightly against her chin, and she looked like a tuberose soaked in the night, languid yet fragrant.

Shi Yin greeted properly: “Good evening, Teacher Ye.”

Xiang Tingyan shrank her neck slightly, curiously observing her.

Ye Peiqian let out a restrained “hmph” through her nose and stepped out of the elevator with the neck of a swan held high. The silk hem swayed enticingly, catching the warm hallway light, and she eventually disappeared around the corner.

Shi Yin: “……”

She watched Ye Peiqian leave, instinctively leaning forward to confirm—

Her mouth twitched lightly.

Good grief, at the end of that hallway was clearly Liang Yicheng’s room.

It seemed that this time, the “groom” being revealed was the underworld boss “Chen Shouzhuo.”

Xiang Tingyan asked, puzzled: “Yin Yin, where is she going—”

“I don’t know—” Shi Yin shook her head, “Don’t say anything, you didn’t see a thing.”

Luckily, she wasn’t truly “Chen Xiang” and couldn’t feel the anger of “dad being taken.” Otherwise, she probably would’ve grabbed a forty-meter-long sword to block the door right now.

~

The next day, before dawn, the set was already lit.

Shi Yin, wearing the thin costume, sat in a folding chair with her eyes closed while the makeup artist applied her makeup. Today they were filming the scene of “Chen Xiang” being kidnapped; she needed to convey fragility and helplessness.

At some point, a light rain began to fall. The script didn’t call for rain, but Gu Jizhou looked up at the monitors and decided to keep it: “Shoot it like this.”

Liang Yicheng stood nearby under a black umbrella, wearing a well-fitted suit, his slicked-back hair meticulous, radiating vitality.

“Ah Cheng, you’re in good form today,” the assistant director passed by, smiling and chatting. “Slept well last night?”

Shi Yin, adjusting her collar with the stylist, quietly perked up her ears at the comment.

“Not bad, the rain didn’t wake me,” Liang Yicheng’s lips curved in a proper smile, then he turned to Shi Yin: “You must be Chen Xiang, right? First time working together. I hope we can have good chemistry.”

Liang Yicheng’s smile was handsome and refined, the right amount of composure—neither overly warm nor distant. Men like him always did well both on and off screen, rightly earning the nickname “Uncle Circle Heartthrob.”

“Teacher Liang, actually we worked together on Songs of a Turbulent Age, just not in the same group,” Shi Yin quietly reminded him. “I played Yu Ying, you played Xie Yun.”

Liang Yicheng played the middle-aged Xie Yun. Although nominally a “couple,” they had no scenes together.

Liang Yicheng raised his brows slightly, eyes crinkling in surprise: “What a coincidence. So this counts as a second collaboration?” His deep gaze made it seem as if the whole world existed only between them at that moment.

Gu Jizhou approached, holding the storyboard, rain soaking his jacket shoulders. He glanced at Shi Yin’s thin school uniform, voice cold and firm: “The crew prepared ginger tea. Drink it after filming. You might be in the rain for a long time today.”

Shi Yin removed her jacket, tidied her clothes, and nodded: “Okay, thank you, director.”

The rain grew heavier.

~

An old Wuling Hongguang bounced along the mountain road, wheels flinging mud in all directions.

Chen Xiang curled up in the back seat, her school uniform messy, hands bound, black tape sealing her pale lips. Rain streaked the windows, and the clingy fabric of her uniform outlined her tiny waist, fragile and ready to snap with every movement of the car.

“Big brother, once we finish this job… can we really get out?” The man with a blue dragon tattooed on his arm sounded tense, full of unease. “You said that person, he won’t lie to us, right?”

The other two kidnappers hadn’t replied yet; the blue dragon man grew impatient, roughly pulling Chen Xiang’s hair to force her face upward: “Chen Shouzhuo really would bleed so much over some little girl?”

Tears rolled silently from Chen Xiang’s eyes, disappearing into her tangled hair.

“Bullshit!” The kidnapper in the front seat coldly glanced through the rearview mirror, tone resolute, “The guy with the surname Chen treats her well, raises her like his own daughter. She wants the stars but not the moon? Otherwise, why kidnap her?”

As they spoke, Chen Xiang suddenly began breathing heavily. Her chest heaved rapidly, her bound hands weakly scratching at the seat, fine cold sweat soaking her forehead. Her pale cheeks flushed with the disease-like color of oxygen deprivation, like a rose about to shatter in a storm.

“Shit! W-what’s happening?!” The blue dragon man shuddered at the sudden situation, pressing his muscular body against the car door. “Big brother! She… she can’t be having that ‘horned wind’ the hometown people said, right? That’s contagious!”

“Idiot! That’s an asthma attack. Check if she has her medicine,” the front-seat kidnapper cursed.

The blue dragon man finally realized and frantically began searching Chen Xiang’s body.

“Wah… wah…” Chen Xiang forced out a weak sob from her throat, her eyes urgently signaling something.

The Blue Dragon man hesitated for a moment, then cautiously tore just a small corner of the black tape sealing her mouth.

“Medicine… book… bag.” Chen Xiang’s voice was barely a whisper, each word demanding immense effort.

“God, so much trouble. Chen Shouzhuo raising such a delicate thing, asking for trouble himself?” The Blue Dragon man muttered as he roughly grabbed the nearby backpack and started rifling through it. He pulled out a white spray inhaler covered in foreign text, examining it from all angles, utterly clueless how to use it, sweat beading on his forehead. “What the hell is this foreign crap? How the hell do I use it?!”

Chen Xiang’s breathing grew ever weaker, her chest rising and falling as if about to explode. She was on the brink of fainting.

The kidnapper in the front seat, noticing something was wrong, barked sharply: “Hurry the hell up! If she dies, all our work’s for nothing!”

The Blue Dragon man’s mind went resolute. Seeing Chen Xiang so fragile, on the verge of death, he simply untied her wrists and shoved the inhaler into her hands: “Here, here, do it yourself! Take a breath now!”

Chen Xiang’s fingers trembled so violently she could barely hold the life-saving device. She struggled to bring it to her lips and clutched the nozzle with effort.

The Blue Dragon man, seeing this, was about to breathe a sigh of relief—

In that split second, Chen Xiang’s expression changed sharply. She flung open the car door, her figure flashing, and decisively jumped into the rain.

“Cut.”

Off-camera, Gu Jizhou shouted for a stop.

Shi Yin efficiently rolled off the protective air cushion, wiping rain from her face.

“Again,” Gu Jizhou’s eyes fixed on the monitor, tone stern. “From opening the door to jumping, the movement must be continuous, no hesitation at all.”

“Understood.”

Shi Yin turned back into the van, wet hair plastered to her temples.

“Cut.” Gu Jizhou called stop a second time. “Your arm blocked your face. Again.”

This scene was being shot on a moving trailer. The rain made the surface slippery, and the landing point was hard to control. Shi Yin had slipped earlier, losing the optimal angle.

“Cut. The clothes are a bit see-through. Change into a dry set.”

“Cut! The lens has water fog, isn’t anyone from the camera team managing this?”

“Cut!!”

Gu Jizhou was indeed strict with her, letting no minor mistake slide.

Perhaps fate was against her today, as all kinds of accidents kept happening on set. Shi Yin pressed her pale lips together, leaping and falling in the cold rain again and again. After more than ten continuous takes, she was soaked to the bone, shivering slightly, yet didn’t utter a single complaint.

Once again she landed hard on the air cushion, rainwater icy and biting. Shi Yin closed her eyes, her wet eyelashes trembling, quietly waiting for the familiar “cut.”

This time, however, Gu Jizhou issued a new instruction: “Remove the protective cushion. Camera push in, give a close-up on the face.”

The professional cameraman obeyed, lying flat on the soaked trailer and locking the lens firmly on Shi Yin.

Under the direct assault of rain, Shi Yin precisely portrayed post-trauma trembling, weakness, and the resolute glint in her eyes.

“Passed.”

When these two words finally sounded, the entire set seemed to exhale.

Xiang Tingyan rushed forward with a blanket, wrapping the almost frozen Shi Yin tightly and pressing the warm ginger tea into her hands.

After a brief rest, the set busied itself again.

Next was the scene of “Chen Xiang” struggling alone in the mountains, discovered and rescued by the searching police, and reuniting with her foster father, “Chen Shouzhuo.”

Shi Yin’s face, arms, and lower legs were made up with realistic scrapes and mud. She looked like a rain-soaked, pitiful, mottled little cat, leaning weakly against the actress playing the female police officer, saying nothing.

“Action!”

The clapperboard snapped, and the camera quickly focused on her.

Chen Shouzhuo walked through the rain with a black umbrella, his steps steady. He stopped before Chen Xiang, his tall figure completely enveloping her. The shadow cast by the umbrella rim obscured his expression, dark and unreadable.

Chen Xiang lifted her eyes, as if glimpsing a deity in despair, and her dim pupils instantly lit up.

She trembled, extending her icy hand, calling out in a breathy voice: “Daddy…”

Chen Shouzhuo did not respond immediately. He lowered his gaze silently, first handing the umbrella to his assistant, then calmly removing his suit jacket and gently draping it over Chen Xiang’s shoulders. He bent down, one hand supporting her knees, the other wrapping around her back, lifting her steadily into his arms.

Chen Xiang seemed to have found a sanctuary, burying her cheek into the warm hollow of his neck, completely relying on his embrace.

Everything proceeded smoothly.

However, beneath the layers of the suit jacket, hidden from view, the hand supporting Shi Yin at her waist subtly traced along her waistline with its fingertips.

Shi Yin’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly, a look of genuine surprise flickering across her face.

“Cut!”

Gu Jizhou’s voice came through the speaker: “What’s going on? Chen Xiang relies on Chen Shouzhuo completely. Your body language is showing full resistance.”

Shi Yin: “…”

She landed steadily from Liang Yicheng’s embrace, her fingertips brushing her jaw to shake off the raindrops. Shi Yin looked up, her gaze seemingly drifting across Liang Yicheng’s face—he was already out of character, calmly adjusting his sleeves, lips carrying a perfectly measured gentle smile, as if the inappropriate touch under the camera had been just her imagination.

“Don’t be nervous,” his deep, steady voice reached the surrounding crew just right. “My hands are steady. You won’t fall.”

The second take began.

Shi Yin obediently pressed her forehead against Liang Yicheng’s shoulder, adopting a posture of complete reliance, yet every inch of her skin was taut as a string, sharply alert to any movement at her waist.

Liang Yicheng’s hand still rested firmly at her side. His knuckles moved subtly under the soaked fabric, almost imperceptibly. The pressure was perfectly controlled, never crossing the line, yet like a serpent’s tongue brushing skin, sending shivers down her spine.

He seemed to enjoy this hidden sense of control, noticing Shi Yin’s submissiveness, a “liking +1” prompt quietly appearing above his head.

Shi Yin lowered her eyes to conceal the cold light in them.

This old lecher, truly engaging in workplace sexual harassment.

“Passed!” Gu Jizhou’s voice rang out.

Liang Yicheng gently set Shi Yin down, his smile gentlemanly as a senior actor: “She’s very perceptive; our partnership was quite smooth.”

Shi Yin’s lips curved in a standard arc, smiling without warmth as she remarked sharply: “Teacher Liang, you flatter me. I still have much to learn from you on how to better integrate into a role.”

—The “Chen Shouzhuo” in the drama, though cruel, would never lay hands on his foster daughter.

At the moment she turned, frost and snow glimmered in Shi Yin’s eyes. The system screen had already popped up a new mission:

【Side Mission: You have a new “Chopped Orders” to check】

【Mission Details: Eliminate workplace sexual harassment without affecting the reputation or broadcast of “Reverse Scale”】

【Mission Reward: Wing Chun (Intermediate)】

That night, when Shi Yin returned home, she hadn’t yet reported the incident to Wen Jinhe when a string of urgent calls arrived.

Shi Yin, aggrieved, shouted: “Sister Wen, I’m telling you, today that Liang—”

Wen Jinhe cut her off, her tone urgent: “Check Weibo first, you’re trending.”