**27**

Ning Zhi inexplicably cared, or rather, it wasn’t entirely inexplicable—whenever it involved Shen Yizhi, she always paid extra attention.

She also noticed that until the call ended, Shen Yizhi never asked her what was going on.

This was even more unusual.

Ning Zhi thought about it all night but couldn’t figure it out. The next day, she met Yang Yang and asked for her opinion.

“If someone calls you in the middle of the night, doesn’t say what’s going on, just says a few words and hangs up, would you find it strange? Would you ask why they called so late?”

Yang Yang placed the breakfast delivered by the hotel on the table: “It depends on the relationship. If you’re close and often in touch, it’s normal to casually call before bed.”

Relationship… Ning Zhi sat down, picked up a bowl, and thought about her relationship with Shen Yizhi.

Ning Zhiqì lowered his voice and poked the soup dumpling stuck in the bowl, describing, “Not good, the type that prefers not to speak if possible.”

Yangyang sat opposite, serving herself a bowl of tofu pudding: “That is indeed quite strange. Normally, one would ask, since it’s rather unusual.”

But Shen Yizhi didn’t show the slightest doubt, not asking her why she was calling so late.

Ning Zhi grew more and more puzzled.

However…” Yangyang said slowly, “there are two situations where one wouldn’t ask.

Ning Zhi looked at her: “Which two kinds?”

The first kind is, I really dislike her, so I don’t care about what happens to her at all.

Ning Zhi tightened her grip on the chopsticks, then loosened it again. No, although Shen Yizhi seemed a bit tired last night, she was calm and peaceful, without a trace of impatience.

Ning Zhi still knew Shen Yizhi somewhat; if she hated her, she wouldn’t pretend to be polite like this.

“And what is the other kind?” she asked.

The other kind is that I know why she called me, so there’s no need to ask.

All the way, Ning Zhi kept pondering this sentence: Shen Yizhi knew why she called her.

How could Shen Yizhi have known?

Ning Zhi recalled their conversation. Shen Yizhi congratulated her on winning the award, then she took the initiative to say she went to the set to find her state, and then?

Then there was a long silence. Shen Yizhi’s tone dropped, as if suddenly overcome with fatigue, telling her to go to bed early.

The conversation ended there.

At most, it took only about two minutes.

With just a few simple sentences, no matter how hard Ning Zhi thought, she couldn’t find any flaws.

The set was reached quickly, and Ning Zhi had to put this matter aside for the time being.

After being away for two days, Mei Lan deliberately gave her more time. There were no scenes between her and Shen Yizhi during the day; Shen Yizhi’s scenes were scheduled for the evening.

I probably won’t see her during the day.

Ning Zhi was holding the script and pacing around the building, trying to find her rhythm.

After all, this house was built for filming; aside from the shooting areas, most parts were still rough and unfinished, especially the top two floors, which were completely empty.

However, even so, it was said to have cost quite a lot of money.

She had heard two assistant directors complain in private, saying that the costly filming method of this art film would definitely result in a loss if done with a different crew.

Ning Zhi walked to the corner between the second and third floors and sat on the stairs, closed her eyes, and imagined a sunny day when she and Ruan Yinmeng went to the riverbank where they did sketching.

Ning Zhi liked to imagine things that were not in the script but should happen between Chi Sheng and Ruan Yinmeng, as this helped her better understand the characters.

She continued to let her thoughts wander.

What would they say, what would they do, would they see such a fiery sunset again?

The grass there was thick, soft to sit on, and the water was clear, like a paradise. What would she say to Ruan Yinmeng? Talk about everyday little things, share interesting stories from when she was learning to paint, say she likes you very much and wants to watch more sunsets with you.

Ning Zhi’s thoughts paused, then wondered what Ruan Yinmeng would do?

Ruan Yinmeng was more straightforward; she would definitely kiss her. They would boldly and passionately kiss under the sunset.

She heard footsteps, the sound of high heels. The images in Ning Zhi’s mind became chaotic; the sunset disappeared, replaced by a hallway at dawn. She sat there, waiting for Ruan Yinmeng to come home.

Ruan Yinmeng’s footsteps had floated through her dreams countless times. She came before her, looking at her teasingly, the charm in her smile seeming innate: “Still not asleep so late, waiting for someone?”

Something cool touched her face. Ning Zhi opened her eyes and saw Ruan Yinmeng right in front of her, smiling at her, holding an ice cream.

Ning Zhi’s eyes widened with surprise, but soon she realized something was off. Ruan Yinmeng’s smile was never like this; her smiles always seemed to carry hidden meanings—sometimes teasing, sometimes provoking, sometimes seductive—but never this purely joyful expression.

Ning Zhi’s gaze gradually dimmed, and only then did she face the ice cream in front of her. The memories associated with the ice cream were triggered, and she looked up at Shen Yizhi, whose smile had disappeared.

Ning Zhi nervously pressed her lips together and raised her hand to take the ice cream, but Shen Yizhi withdrew his hand, and Ning Zhi caught nothing.

“Ning Ning,” Shen Yizhi spoke.

Ning Zhi suddenly felt a strong sense of guilt, and her eyes began to wander.

Shen Yizhi smiled, but the joy from before was gone from her expression. She asked softly, “Who do you take me for?”

A wave of discomfort surged in Ning Zhi’s heart, but she had no way to explain. She had indeed mistaken Shen Yizhi for Ruan Yinmeng just now.

Shen Yizhi waited a few seconds, and when she didn’t get a response, she reached out and took Ning Zhi’s hand.

Her hand was very cold. Ning Zhi instinctively pulled back slightly. Shen Yizhi glanced at her, placed the ice cream in her palm, squeezed it tightly, and only then released her hand.

“I saw it for sale on the road; I thought it had been discontinued.”

Ning Zhi lowered her head and then looked closely at the ice cream packaging. It was the brand Shen Yizhi gave her the time she sat crying in the hallway when she was eight years old.

She had looked for it before but couldn’t find it and thought it had been discontinued. Now it seemed that production had only been reduced and it was sold only in specific regions.

She didn’t dare to look up, feeling an unclear mix of frustration or something else, with a slight bitterness on the tip of her tongue.

Shen Yizhi stood in front of her. After a long moment, she walked down, descending two steps, then stopped.

The ice cream was very cold, but Ning Zhi seemed completely unaware, holding it tightly.

She watched Shen Yizhi’s back. Shen Yizhi neither turned around nor looked back. Ning Zhi felt as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing.

Today’s shoot was not going smoothly; the problem lay with Ning Zhi, because after this morning’s incident, she kept getting distracted.

Shen Yizhi stayed on the set, sitting in a corner on the outskirts, watching her act with others.

The ice cream was handed over by Ning Zhi to Yang Yang to put in the fridge.

Her attention kept drifting to Shen Yizhi off-camera, wondering what kind of look she would give her.

But Shen Yizhi didn’t give her many chances to get distracted.

Without knowing at which mistake she stopped, she instinctively looked towards Shen Yizhi’s direction, only to realize she had left at some unknown time.

She must have left for something.

Ning Zhi was lost in thought, but his attention returned to the performance, barely finishing today’s shooting task by evening.

Shen Yizhi returned after nightfall.

Ning Zhi had been anxious all day, feeling that she should do something, even if it was just to apologize to her.

But there were always people around them, and Ning Zhi couldn’t find the opportunity.

Until before filming started, when they each went to their positions, still on the stairs, Shen Yizhi passed by her and whispered, “Do a good job, don’t think about anything else.”

Ning Zhi didn’t know where the courage came from, she grabbed her, but only for a moment, almost as soon as she touched her, she immediately let go.

Shen Yizhi stopped and looked at her inquisitively.

The stairs were narrow, and they were very close, shoulder to shoulder.

Ning Zhi’s mind went blank, and the words “I’m sorry” slipped out.

Many people around were watching the two female leads.

Shen Yizhi understood what she was apologizing for.

“To make the movie good, you can treat me as Ruan Yinmeng, but once the filming is over, you have to distinguish between us.”

Her voice was very soft, audible only to Ning Zhi.

They were on this narrow staircase, close enough to see every detail on each other’s faces.

Ning Zhi should have agreed, but as she looked at Shen Yizhi, who was so close, she suddenly felt a longing, wishing time would stop at this very second.

She asked, “What if I can’t tell the difference? What if I don’t want to tell the difference, what then?”

Shen Yizhi’s expression shifted slightly. Her gaze at Ning Zhi was like a calm lake disturbed by a thrown stone; the surface rippled. But before Ning Zhi could understand the meaning of the ripples, Shen Yizhi looked away and walked down.

A few minutes later, with the director’s command, Ning Zhi transformed into Chi Sheng, and Shen Yizhi became Ruan Yinmeng.

They looked at each other up and down the stairs; Chi Sheng was the first to smile, waving her hand with lively eyes. She ran down the dimly lit stairwell and pressed an apple she had been holding for a long time into Ruan Yinmeng’s hand.

Ruan Yinmeng’s expression was heavy with fatigue. She had been cold to her for several days, but this person seemed to suddenly become dull to perception, approaching without any discouragement.

The apple still carried the warmth of her palm.

Ruan Yinmeng saw the bright and sincere smile on Chi Sheng’s face. She leaned closer, using her height advantage to bend down to her ear, her lips pretending to casually brush the skin at the root of her ear.

Ruan Yinmeng frowned and took a step back, only then noticing that Chi Sheng’s face was flushed deeply. Even though she was the one being flirtatious, she still looked as innocent as if she had been the one flirted with.

She tried hard to act like an experienced person, but when she smiled, the forced maturity was completely dispelled by her pure smile.

Ruan Yinmeng softened for a moment, but quickly hardened her heart again, passing by Chi Sheng and going upstairs.

Chi Sheng followed behind her, all the way up to the third floor.

Ruan Yinmeng pretended she wasn’t there, found the key, and opened the door to go in.

They looked at each other through the door for a moment. Chi Sheng stood outside, showing no intention of coming in, and only asked, “Can I come see you tomorrow?”

Ruan Yinmeng replied, “No.”

Oh.” The girl’s smile faded, she sighed, looking very disappointed, “Then you should rest well.

She didn’t insist or say anything more, turning around and touching the railing as she went downstairs.

Ruan Yinmeng couldn’t quite describe her feelings—whether it was because her heart softened at the sudden disappearance of light in the girl’s eyes, or because she couldn’t bear to hear the disappointment in her voice. She took a few steps forward, and the girl who had just started down the stairs immediately stopped, turned back to look at her, her clear and bright eyes sparkling in the night.