**13**

The shooting schedule in the past few days was arranged very leisurely, as Meilan wanted to give the actors some time to get into character.

Ning Zhi’s performance that day was still good. When work ended, Meilan, as usual, praised her a couple of times: “Among the actors I’ve worked with, you are one of the most perceptive.”

Meilan has worked with a large number of actors and often casts newcomers in her films.

Her words were very convincing.

Ning Zhi was about to ask about Shen Yizhi when he caught a glimpse of Shen Yizhi coming out of the lounge, and he swallowed his words back.

But Meilan noticed her gaze and smiled: “Yizhi is different, don’t compare yourself to her. She belongs to that category of innate talent, you can’t compete.”

Ning Zhi’s first reaction was to feel dissatisfied, but the next moment that dissatisfaction disappeared.

Because what Meilan said was true. In the first two years after her debut, the label of spiritual energy always followed Shen Yizhi.

Ning Zhi smiled slightly, said nothing, and turned her head to find Shen Yizhi looking at her, with a somewhat thoughtful expression on her face.

What was she thinking about again? Ning Zhi unconsciously felt nervous, but after a while, she thought it was unnecessary. Whatever Shen Yizhi was thinking had nothing to do with her.

…

…

She turned to say goodbye to Mei Lan and left the set.

Shen Yizhi just recalled Zhou Tong’s words and realized that Ning Zhi had indeed grown up.

She was taller than before, her features had matured, and even her voice had subtle changes. Compared to the middle school student Ning Zhi, the current her still occasionally showed some youthful innocence, but she was truly an adult now.

Shen Yizhi watched for a while, and only after Ning Zhi left did she come back to her senses, shaking her head wryly in her heart.

After several days of continuous shooting, Ning Zhi finally welcomed the second scene with Shen Yizhi.

She faced it like a formidable enemy, mentally preparing herself for a long time.

After this period of acting, Chi Sheng was no longer just a cold, lifeless name on the script; he became vivid and three-dimensional through Ning Zhi.

She is a person with a delicate mind, orphaned of both parents, raised by her grandmother, carrying all of her grandmother’s hopes. She is very sensitive to others’ glances and words, and keeps her worries to herself, quietly and introvertedly processing them.

At the same time, she also has the youthful exuberance of her age. She hasn’t experienced much, is simple and pure, plays and jokes with classmates, and sometimes has mischievous thoughts to tease others.

She seems to have two faces, and these two completely different faces are both her.

Ning Zhi built an image of Chi Sheng in his heart.

I am Chi Sheng. She hinted to herself.

The summer in the south was humid and stifling, with not a breath of wind even at night.

The old fan turned at a steady, unhurried pace, occasionally creaking as if it were struggling to work.

Next to the fan was a desk, cluttered with books, papers, and pens, as well as a standing photo frame. The photo inside was somewhat blurred in the darkness, showing a young woman with delicate features, gently smiling at the camera.

It was Chi Sheng’s mother.

Chi Sheng lay on the bed, turning over from time to time. She was covered in sweat, too hot to sleep soundly.

After a few seconds, Chi Sheng was completely awakened by the heat. Her heart felt like it was burning with a trapped fire, her brows tightly furrowed. Like any child her age, she threw a tantrum when things didn’t go her way, angrily kicking the blanket aside.

The breeze from the fan was not cool at all; it carried a trace of heat and made an annoying noise.

Chi Shengteng suddenly sat up, glanced out the window, where the streetlights were still on, emitting the same long-standing orange-yellow glow, attracting many little insects to fly chaotically around the light source.

Chi Sheng was annoyed, everything seemed to go wrong. She simply turned off the fan that not only failed to blow cool air but also creaked noisily, then heavily and resignedly lay back on the **.

Suddenly, the sound of high heels came from outside.

Chi Sheng’s home was on a low floor, and her bed was right next to the window, so even slight noises downstairs could be heard.

Who would come back so late? She thought, sitting up and leaning on the windowsill.

A woman wearing a qipao, the color of which was indistinct in the night, seemingly a dark green, embroidered with delicate patterns, fitting her body perfectly and outlining her graceful curves.

The hem of the qipao revealed a section of snow-white calf, and her high heels tapped the ground one step at a time, her gait exuding a charm and elegance that Chisheng had never seen before.

She had never seen such a woman, as if she were a dancer from a grand Shanghai stage in a TV show—beautifully worldly, strikingly alluring, unabashedly stunning, full of endless charm.

Chi Sheng was so engrossed that he accidentally knocked over the glass on the windowsill with his elbow. The glass fell, making a sharp clinking sound. Startled, Chi Sheng quickly reached out to steady it, but suddenly noticed that the sound of high heels had stopped.

She was stiffly leaning on the windowsill. Under the streetlight, the woman paused, looking up. Her makeup was heavy and strikingly beautiful, yet she wore a pair of simple jade earrings. As she lifted her head, the earrings swayed gently by her ears.

Chi Sheng was discovered, his heart sank, panic overwhelming him, but he forced himself to hold firm, meeting the woman’s gaze without yielding.

She looked down from above, holding a natural advantage, while the woman below looked up, yet showed no sign of losing ground.

Clearly separated by distance, and with the night deepening, Chisheng seemed able to see every detail on her face. She couldn’t even tell if it was what she actually saw or what her mind filled in for her, so detailed that even her thick eyelashes seemed perfectly clear.

Suddenly, the woman smiled, and the only word that came to Chisheng’s mind was—everything else pales.

The high heels clicked on the ground again, the sound entering the stairwell, becoming light and short, one tap after another, moving from bottom to top, then fading away until disappearing on the third floor.

Chisheng blinked, outside under the streetlamp the road was empty, with only a faint, seemingly eternal orange-yellow halo.

The edges of the halo blurred softly, like a dream gently blown away by a whispered breath, its lingering charm not yet faded.

Chi Sheng lay back on **, she guessed it, she was the woman the neighbors secretly gossiped about as the “madam.”

Chi Sheng stared at the ceiling, her expression blank, gradually exhaling, then raised her hand to rub her face, as if to say, what does this have to do with me?

But after that day, every night, she would wake up at that exact time. She wouldn’t blatantly lean on the windowsill to watch, but she would open her eyes and listen to the sound of high heels approaching from afar into the hallway, then ascending from the bottom and disappearing on the third floor.

Meilan called for a stop.

Ning Zhi sat up from that chair full of a sense of the era. It was almost dawn outside. She instinctively rubbed her face, then stopped, remembering that this was the same gesture Chi Sheng had just made.

She glanced around the room; Shen Yizhi was not there. She should go remove her makeup.

From the moment she entered the hallway, her part was over. The following two scenes of lying on the bed listening to the sound of high heels were filmed with Ning Zhi alone.

Meilan made an “ok” gesture, signaling that this one was approved.

Ning Zhi got out of bed, put on her shoes, and Yangyang came over, handing her the water: “You’ve been filming all night, aren’t you tired?”

Ning Zhi shook his head, took the cup of water but did not drink.

She pressed her lips tightly, seeing that the door to Shen Yizhi’s makeup room was half-open.

“Go back to the hotel and get some sleep quickly, we still have to continue shooting this afternoon.” Yangyang’s voice was like a breeze, lightly slipping past Ning Zhi’s ear.

She said casually, “I’m not going back, I’ll just make do in the lounge.”

Then, before Yangyang could speak, she headed toward the lounge.

Her lounge was right next to Shen Yizhi’s makeup room, and she glanced inside as if casually passing by.

Just one look, then she walked past.

Shen Yizhi was standing inside, still wearing that qipao. Ning Zhi was not mistaken; it was indeed a dark cyan color, with a gorgeous begonia flower embroidered on the chest, extremely beautiful.

Ah Zhi,” Yangyang called to her, “you haven’t taken off your makeup yet.

Ning Zhi came back to her senses and said “Oh” twice. The makeup room was at the other end, so she retraced her steps and glanced once more at the half-open door.