Chapter 17: I, Ling Qiong, Send the Money! (17)

Ling Qiong returned to Lu Wenchi’s dressing room just in time to see a staff member delivering a bottle of water inside.

That person was unmistakably the same one she had spotted earlier.

Tsk tsk…

To think someone would make a move on my precious right in front of me!

Ling Qiong waited until the staff member left before striding into the lounge herself.

Lu Wenchi had already changed and was fully styled. The character he played was a strategist, and his costume had a roguish flair—layer upon layer of robes draped over him, topped with a bamboo-green gauze cloak that lent him an ethereal grace.

The man standing before the mirror turned his head slowly, his features elegant and aloof, like an immortal descended to the mortal world.

Ling Qiong swallowed hard.

Absolutely stunning!

I can hardly take it!

Lu Wenchi felt a little uneasy under Ling Qiong’s shining gaze. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, not at all. It’s perfect.” Ling Qiong’s brows arched sweetly as she praised him with delight. “You look wonderful.”

“…Thank you.”

Still uncomfortable, Lu Wenchi instinctively reached for the bottle of water on the table, intending to unscrew it for a drink.

Before he could, a hand pressed down on his.

Warm fingers touched the back of his hand, and Lu Wenchi stiffly shifted his gaze to those fair, graceful fingers.

He took a step back, looking tense and somewhat lost. “Wh… what’s the matter?”

Ling Qiong blinked. “Is that the only bottle of water in your room?”

Lu Wenchi didn’t quite understand why she suddenly cared about this. He glanced around the room. “I think so… Did you want some?”

The young woman nodded, adorable and obedient. “Mm.”

Lu Wenchi drew a quiet breath, looked away, unscrewed the cap, and handed the water to Ling Qiong.

“Mr. Lu, are you ready?” a staff member called from outside.

“I’m ready,” Lu Wenchi replied, then turned to Ling Qiong. “I’ll go shoot my scenes now.”

Ling Qiong waved cheerfully.

Lu Wenchi left the lounge at a brisk pace. It wasn’t until he’d walked quite a distance that he rubbed the back of his hand.

A faint flush colored his fair face, and his heart beat a little faster.

…

Ling Qiong capped the bottle, weighing it back and forth in her hand, her bright eyes glinting mischievously as if plotting something.

She stepped outside, wandered about, and soon spotted the back she had seen earlier.

It was easy to recognize since he was still in costume.

Ling Qiong scanned her surroundings, gathered up her skirt, and crouched beside a staff member. In a sweet, soft voice, she asked, “Sister, who is that?”

“Who?” The staff member was charmed by the sweet voice and, turning to see a pretty young girl, was even more eager to help.

Ling Qiong pointed to the person reading his script nearby.

“Oh… that’s Jiang Xu.”

Jiang Xu was from Lu Wenchi’s previous agency. He’d starred in two dramas and gained a bit of fame. He was also the one who had competed with Lu Wenchi for the supporting male lead role.

After Yue Ying dropped out, Jiang Xu didn’t stand a chance. Still, they found him another part.

The staff member lowered her voice. “His company’s really pushing him. He only got that role by edging out another actor…”

Ling Qiong mused, “I see.”

“Yeah, he’s not a big name, but his temper’s something else…” The staff member grumbled, then, realizing she might have said too much, left it at that.

Ling Qiong took the opportunity to ask when Lu Wenchi was injured.

The staff member replied it was a few days ago, during the shooting of the twenty-eighth scene—incidentally, one with both Lu Wenchi and Jiang Xu.

There had been a fight sequence, and an accident nearly occurred when some equipment almost fell on someone.

Lu Wenchi dodged quickly and suffered only minor abrasions, insisting it was nothing serious.

At the time, it really hadn’t seemed like much, so they’d only given it basic treatment.

Only after Lu Wenchi asked for leave did they realize he’d actually twisted something quite badly.

“Afterwards, when he was filming, Mr. Lu seemed completely normal. You couldn’t tell he was hurt at all…”

Lu Wenchi hadn’t wanted to delay production. He valued the opportunity, so it made sense that he’d push through.

Ling Qiong’s eyes curved as she thanked her. “Thank you, sister.”

The staff member was dazzled by that smile and quickly waved it off. “It’s nothing, really!”

After parting ways, Ling Qiong wandered the perimeter, hugging the bottle of water.

…

Jiang Xu had quite a bit to do in this scene, but after several takes, he still hadn’t passed.

Impatient by nature, Jiang Xu felt he’d done well enough to move on. The director’s nitpicking only fueled his frustration, and his performance grew worse each time.

Seeing that everyone was getting tired, the director called for a break.

Jiang Xu returned to his spot with a gloomy face. “He’s clearly doing this on purpose to mess with me!”

His assistant glanced around anxiously and lowered his voice. “Bro, please don’t say that.”

Jiang Xu sneered, “I’m making it up? Look at how he treats Lu Wenchi and how he treats me. Did I do so badly just now? Isn’t he just nitpicking for the sake of it?”

The assistant fell silent.

Lu Wenchi’s acting really was outstanding.

And honestly, the director had no reason to target Jiang Xu; every minute on set cost money, after all. Did Jiang Xu really think he was that important?

Of course, the assistant didn’t dare say this out loud—it would only make Jiang Xu angrier.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Jiang Xu demanded.

“Bro, just bear with it. Have some water, moisten your throat, and try to get it right next time.”

The assistant handed him a thermos, but Jiang Xu, still fuming, didn’t want hot water. He reached instead for the bottle on the table.

…

Ling Qiong had fetched herself a chair and was sitting quietly, idly fanning herself with a little fan she’d found somewhere.

The fan was a bold color, yet a tranquil aura seemed to surround her, making her presence easy to overlook.

She was just like a cat—when it sleeps quietly, you can hardly find where it is.

But the moment it appears, your eyes are drawn to it.

Inside, the break was over and the director called for everyone to get ready.

After resting, Jiang Xu seemed in much better shape, and this time the director was quite satisfied.

Only a few lines remained; as long as he held it together, this take would pass.

But at that moment, Jiang Xu’s voice suddenly changed—hoarse and grating at first, then vanishing altogether.

Terrified, Jiang Xu clutched his throat, mouth open, struggling to utter a sound.

But all he could manage was a hoarse, rasping noise, and soon even breathing became difficult.

As Jiang Xu’s condition deteriorated, panic swept through the crew—some called for help, others dialed for an ambulance, and chaos erupted.

Ling Qiong supported her chin and muttered, “So this was the result… Tsk, that’s a bit frightening, isn’t it?”

…

Jiang Xu was quickly taken to the hospital. Tests showed his throat had been irritated by something, causing swelling, but it wasn’t too serious—though it would take some time for him to recover.

How long that would be, the doctors couldn’t say.

They still hadn’t figured out what had caused the reaction.

Lu Wenchi wasn’t a singer, so damage to his voice wouldn’t have been catastrophic, but it would certainly affect filming.

For something like this to happen to Jiang Xu on set, the crew wanted to call the police, but Jiang Xu refused.

No one could understand it—he was the victim, so why not call the police?

But Jiang Xu didn’t dare. If the police investigated, everything would come to light.

He couldn’t understand how that substance had ended up in the water he drank…