Chapter Ninety: Too Deep in the Role

Page (1/3)

Though it was a passion scene, there was still a layer of red sheer veil between them.
That feeling of resisting yet inviting, of wanting to speak yet stopping at the edge, was the most tempting.
Jiang Hu slipped into character at once. In this moment he was no longer star Jiang Hu, but the decisive, volatile general from the script.

“You dare to put something in the wine?” Jiang Hu’s voice was icy cold.

Mo Nian Nian faced away from everyone. She didn’t need great acting skill; fortunately, she still remembered the script and could keep up the rhythm.

“If I did, it doesn't matter what happens. The general would still think I did it.”

“What nerve!” Jiang Hu yanked Mo Nian Nian to him and held her in his arms, gripping her throat. “I’ll kill you right now.”

Mo Nian Nian hooked her hand around Jiang Hu’s neck, breathing in a smooth, soft flow. “Would the general dare?”

Jiang Hu’s eyes flashed red, his blood surging. He knew he had slipped out of control, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.
He was on the brink of madness, driven wild by Mo Nian Nian.

He rolled over and pinned Mo Nian Nian beneath him, his eyes red and wet. “You brought this on yourself.”

He bit hard into the bite mark on her skin that had not yet faded.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her gaze reddened.

Mo Nian Nian had expected this move and moved to push him away.
Jiang Hu seized her hands and locked them above her head, binding her fast.

Mo Nian Nian snapped softly, “Jiang Hu!”

You wretch, here he goes again with this routine!

Jiang Hu whispered near her ear, “Nian Nian, lower your voice. They can hear.”

For an instant, Mo Nian Nian no longer cared whether it was acting or not; she slapped him, as if to show him just how red the flowers truly were.

“Sorry, Nian Nian. In a kissing scene, if it’s too distant it looks fake.”

Jiang Hu kept whispering against her ear, their faces brushing close.
Inside the private space hidden by the red gauze, only Mo Nian Nian and Jiang Hu were present.

Mo Nian Nian steadied herself. “Fine. What do you mean by this earlier switch in body doubles?”
“Sorry, Nian Nian. Let’s finish and I’ll explain properly. Sorry again.”

Then Jiang Hu guided her through a few more movements, and through the red veil their shadows wove themselves into a tender, aching tangle.

“Good—excellent. This scene is done.”

Director Wang praised him without restraint, eyes shining as he looked from Mo Nian Nian to Jiang Hu.
“A high-end film needs desire, not mere lust.”
Even he was astonished by their on-screen chemistry.

Page (2/3)

Mo Nian Nian kept a cold expression and refused the makeup artist who came to remove her makeup.
She looked in the mirror and saw the bite mark on her neck.

What had been there before had not faded, and now there was another one on top.
Two layers of powder still did not hide it, so in anger she tossed the foundation across the vanity.

Jiang Hu came in at that moment and happened to catch the scene.
“Nian Nian, I’m sorry.”

Mo Nian Nian stayed cold. “Go on. Explain.”

[Host, you forgot the persona you set for yourself.]
The System whispered.

[Not in the mood. Don’t bother me.]

“Sorry. I got too deep into character and truly thought you were her.”
Is that even an apology?

Mo Nian Nian was so angry she didn’t know how to answer.

[Some actors, just to play a role well, eat and sleep thinking about it, immersing themselves fully, and for decades they can’t settle into other roles.]
The System murmured.

Annoyed beyond measure, Mo Nian Nian gave the System a twenty-hour mute package.

“Is Nian Nian angry?” Jiang Hu’s searching gaze stayed on her.
She drew a deep breath. “No. Of course not.”

The last time, she decided to endure it one final time—and then let life spread wide, sky above, sea beyond, each to care for themselves.
Jiang Hu stays on his broad road; she walks her own narrow bridge.

A little of her mood lifted.

Jiang Hu blinked, concealing the emotion beneath his lashes. “Good. Then that’s fine.”
Nian Nian, why can’t you keep deceiving him forever?

When Jiang Hu looked up, the color drained from his eyes until it was cleanly gone, and he smiled faintly.
“By the way, I have an interview tomorrow morning, so I won’t be traveling with you. Be careful on the road.”

“Of course.” She agreed on instinct, then realized this was wrong—she and he weren’t even headed the same way. It was only occasionally that she’d asked the driver to pick him up.

“Don’t crowd in; I can’t hear a thing.”
“Who told you to shut the door?”
“If it weren’t shut, how could you eavesdrop? So silly.”

My god, I only thought the two of them looked made for each other. The romantic scenes were like thunder and fire under the same sky—and I never expected it to be real.

“Mother, I’ll die without regret.”
“Speak softly. Don’t get caught.”

Page (3/3)

“What are you all doing?” Director Wang happened to pass by the makeup-room corridor and found the leads and the screenwriter from the same unit lingering at the door, eavesdropping.

He shoved open the room door in one go. Mo Nian Nian stood with a face gone dark with stress.
She had noticed them near the door long ago but hadn’t thought much of it—turns out they had come to spy.

One by one they were caught, each more awkward than the next, standing there at a loss for words.
Their voices were low and mixed, and Mo Nian Nian couldn’t quite make out what they had said. Arms folded across her chest, she snapped, “What is this? You think you’ve had enough of life? Do you want to play at being doorkeepers?”

Xiaohua had the thickest skin; she clapped Mo Nian Nian on the shoulder as if nothing were wrong.
“Nian Nian, don't worry. I blocked them. They weren’t here to disturb you and your idol.”

“...Then I should thank you?”
Xiaohua looked away, flustered. “No need to thank me. Just understand.”

The others, less shameless, stuttered apologies.
Eavesdropping in corners is never right, no matter how you dress it up.

Jiang Hu coughed twice and pointed to Mo Nian Nian.
“Let Nian Nian decide.”

The look in everyone’s eyes slowly changed. They never expected Jiang Hu to be this kind of Jiang Hu.

Mo Nian Nian was not one to hold a grudge and forgave them with grace.
She added casually, “By the way, brother, they were all from the crew this time, but if something like this happens again, you have to be careful. The paparazzi are everywhere.”

Jiang Hu paused, then smiled. “I know.”

So Nian Nian, why do you always give him such an illusion?
Or why can’t you just keep fooling him always?
Let him believe all of this is real, let him live in an illusion for a while—would that not be enough?

Nian Nian was terribly cruel.
Still, what he set his heart on, even death cannot pull him away from it.

The next morning at dawn, Jiang Hu went to a live studio interview.
It was a long-running program on the national broadcaster—never wildly popular, yet preserved because it had interviewed many heroes of the people.
Inviting Jiang Hu was the station’s bold new experiment.

Jiang Hu had become too famous all at once. As soon as word spread that he would be the guest, ratings broke records before the cameras even warmed up.
His fans waited, all eyes fixed on the screen.

The host delivered the usual stack of opening lines and then said,
“Please welcome the new-generation powerhouse actor, Jiang Hu, with applause.”

“Ahhh! Brother!!”