Chapter 15 Cold War Slap

Han Rao froze, lying stiffly on top of him, staring straight at him.

Since she was little, Xu Lianqiu had never hit her like this.

Although Han Rao’s parents divorced when she was young, Xu Lianqiu was still a teacher who valued moral education. Moreover, Han Rao, aware of her family’s special situation from an early age, felt sorry for her mother and was mature for her age. She rarely got angry with Xu Lianqiu and was never beaten.

Zhao Jichuan didn’t know what she was thinking. He raised his hand and ruffled her hair. “Behave yourself, stop messing with me.”

He didn’t say anything, but in fact, he hadn’t had a good rest for two or three nights. There were some matters left at the company, and he had been busy all along. Although he was naturally more energetic than others, he still couldn’t withstand the lack of sleep.

Tonight, he struggled with her for several hours again; he really wanted to sleep.

Seeing that Han Rao remained silent and no longer fidgeted, just sulking there lying down, Zhao Jichuan finally opened his eyes.

He helplessly raised his hand to pinch her little face, but Han Rao raised her hand to grab his arm, refusing to show it to him.

Zhao Jichuan sighed, his tone softening, “Did it hurt?”

He didn’t think he had used too much force.

Han Rao felt that whether it hurt or not was actually unimportant; that was a matter of the physical level.

The important thing was that his slap was full of admonishment, not flirtation, as if he were disciplining and punishing her.

She was actually a highly sensitive person; she disliked his aloofness and the way he harshly imposed punishment on her.

Clearly, just moments ago during lovemaking, she felt thoroughly and vividly that he actually respected her quite a bit.

Some men not only lack skill but also only care about their own pleasure, completely ignoring their partner’s needs.

But Zhao Jichuan was not.

He could understand her needs through her sobbing, whether to be faster or slower.

He could still bend down to hold her when she opened her arms to grab him, letting their sweat mingle together.

He could also gently kiss her lips as she reached her climax, softly nibbling, caressing her..

He might not have noticed these little details, but Han Rao keenly detected them.

She liked him very much, and so she developed the illusion that he was a good man who respected her.

To the extent that, even after getting out of bed, this feeling continued. Until that slap came down, shattering the bubble of her illusion.

Han Rao felt as if a crack had been made in her pride.

She wanted to laugh, laughing at herself for being foolish, actually hoping to find emotional solace in a physical relationship.

Han Rao’s eyes were a little red. She pressed her lips together and said, “It’s nothing, go to sleep.”

She told herself to learn to accept this contrast in him. He was never a good lover from the start, she knew that.

She wanted to increase her emotional resilience with him, not be overly sensitive, and avoid the self-inflicted misery of falling in love with him one day because of the act.

By then, both body and mind would be lost, and the death would be miserable.

After a slap, the woman indeed became obedient, curling up into a small ball, turning her back to him, sharing the same pillow.

In fact, there was only one pillow at home, forcing them to share the bed and pillow.

But she looked pitiful, only resting on a small corner of the pillow, clearly uncomfortable.

Zhao Jichuan felt somewhat restless; her slender back faced him, clearly showing a defensive posture.

His drowsiness fading, he raised his hand to pull her into his embrace, intending to share some of his pillow with her, but the moment his hand touched the bedsheet, he froze.

She cried.

Zhao Jichuan was completely sober now, forcefully turning her face.

The woman’s eyes were red, tears dripping down the corners, leaving a trail.

“What are you crying for?” he asked.

He could feel that her crying this time was different from the first; this time it was more suppressed and gloomy.

Han Rao shook her head and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “It’s nothing, just sleep. I suddenly thought of my mom.”

She was lying.

Zhao Jichuan’s gaze was sharp, but he was too lazy to probe the reason for her tears. At this moment, he just found her uninteresting.

He didn’t want to comfort her.

He left her behind to bring himself happiness; he had no obligation to soothe a stubborn woman who only knew how to cry.

He didn’t even confront her about hugging and cuddling with Xie Yaochen tonight, yet she gave him a cold shoulder.

He had spoiled her too much, letting her run wild.

Zhao Jichuan thought for two seconds, lifted the quilt, picked up the shirt and pants thrown on the floor, put them back on, and then left without looking back.

Later, he regretted leaving so rashly at that moment, abandoning her alone.

He missed an opportunity to connect with her soul on a deeper level.

Long after, he often reflected, wondering if that night he had wiped away her tears, held her in his arms, and patiently asked what had hurt her, would she have loved him a little more.

Han Rao listened as the rustling sounds gradually faded away, ending with the door slamming shut with a bang.

Her heart trembled, and she sat up in a daze.

Zhao Jichuan had left, storming off in anger.

But she felt no burden, only a calm sense of driving the intruder out of her territory.

Han Rao raised her hand to pull open the curtains; the sky was already beginning to brighten.

She was wide awake, stumbling out of bed. As soon as she left the bedroom, the lingering atmosphere of intimacy in the living room enveloped her.

Han Rao frowned, ignoring the cold weather, and opened the window directly.

Irritated, she glanced at the mess on the floor, picked up her clothes, and threw them all into the washing machine.

She also replaced the bed sheets, duvet cover, and sofa covers—all of them were new.

She went to the bathroom and threw Zhao Jichuan’s used toothbrush, cup, and bath towel into the trash, then wrapped herself in a coat and threw it downstairs.

She didn’t want to leave any trace that he had ever been there.

After finishing all this, Han Rao felt as if the burden in her heart had been discarded just like the trash.

So satisfying.

As expected, men are just trash.

She told herself.

　　-

Since that unpleasant night, Zhao Jichuan hadn’t contacted Han Rao, and Han Rao hadn’t reached out to him either.

The two of them thus muddled their way into a cold war.

If this counts as a cold war.

Han Rao was somewhat relieved that he had originally signed her to Xingyun; her boss was Fan Qin, who had no direct connection with him.

The two of them had no contact, which did not affect her work in the slightest.

It was mid-November then, and Han Rao had joined the crew ahead of schedule, marking her first significant role in four years.

She cherished it deeply.

A while ago, her agent Hu Shengnan arranged for her to play the third female lead in a historical romance drama. The drama was called “Under the High Platform,” and she played the role of a princess who brought disaster to the country.

The agent said she was alluring with a hint of aggression

And the ambitious look perfectly fits this character.

Agent Hu Shengnan lives up to her name; she is a woman who surpasses men and can hold up half the sky in the agency.

She is over 35, unmarried and childless, decisive and efficient in her work, with a fiery personality and unwavering determination. Everyone calls her Sister Nan.

Han Rao and Hu Shengnan met for the first time in a café; Hu Shengnan was the one who asked her out.

Hu Shengnan was very straightforward and knew that Han Rao was well-connected, after all, Fan Qin had specifically instructed her to take good care of Han Rao.

But she came up and said to Han Rao, “I’ve seen the plays you’ve acted in, your acting skills are indeed impressive, and I believe in your professional ability.”

Han Rao originally thought she would have to be polite and compliment him a bit, but Hu Shengnan immediately raised his hand to stop her. “But as a manager, I am also professional. I’ve been in the industry for twelve years, right during the rise of the entertainment world. I’ve managed many artists and helped make many of them famous. I understand the ins and outs of the entertainment industry better than you do.”

She looked at Han Rao, “Forget it, no more nonsense. I just want to tell you this: in this circle, you speak one way to people and another way to ghosts. Managing your mouth and restraining your behavior is more important than anything else.”

Han Rao nodded; she understood these principles as well.

Hu Shengnan saw that she was so obedient and sensible, and couldn’t help but change his impression of her a bit.

To be honest, someone like her, who climbed up step by step from the bottom, looked down on people like Han Rao who had capital backing them. Because most of these people couldn’t find their true place, were arrogantly self-important, had their tails held higher than the sky, and were difficult to please with endless demands.

Of course, people like this can’t make much of a splash in the circle; at most, they flap around a bit, and once the benefactor tosses them aside, they disappear without a trace.

Hu Shengnan looked at Han Rao, always sensing a kind of stubborn determination in her eyes, a fierce drive to seize every opportunity.

Beautiful ambitious woman.

The word suddenly flashed through Hu Shengnan’s mind. She smiled, and her expression was no longer as serious as before.

She looked at Han Rao, the woman neither humble nor arrogant, gently stirring her coffee.

She always felt that someone as calm as Han Rao was capable of causing big trouble.

Hu Shengnan raised his eyebrows and pushed the script toward her. “Got you the third female lead. Read through the script in advance, analyze the character clearly, and perform well.”

Han Rao picked up the script and thanked her.

Hu Shengnan suddenly became curious and asked her in return, “I thought you would ask me why I’m not the female lead.”

Han Rao smiled, “Sister Nan, I’m very content. As long as I have roles to act in and the shows can be broadcast normally, I’m happy. I do want to become famous, but I know my limits—I’m not yet capable of carrying a lead female role. Compared to becoming an overnight sensation and then disappearing, I believe more in Marxism’s principle of spiral progression.”

She lowered her eyes, fully aware that today was not like five years ago; now, in the entertainment industry, capital reigns supreme, and popularity is king.

When she filmed “The Sea of First Love,” a rookie director, along with a group of new actors, made a low-budget movie but still achieved a decent box office.

Such a rare event of “perfect timing, favorable location, and harmonious people” is even more negligible in today’s entertainment industry.

Hu Shengnan was amused by her “Marxist” humor, feeling in a good mood. He reminded her once more to contact him if anything came up, then left.

Han Rao held the script tightly in her hand, telling herself that this was her first opportunity, and she had to seize it with all her might.

Only by making good use of this opportunity can she have a second, third, and even more chances.

Only in this way can she avoid relying on anyone in the future.

Han Rao held the script, marked with her red and green notes, and flew alone from Beicheng to Hengdian.

She joined the crew half a month early, started script readings ahead of schedule, learned etiquette in advance, and practiced fight scenes early.

The director, producer, and other actors in the crew all didn’t know that Han Rao was actually a “connected insider,” backed by the powerful Zhao Jichuan. They only saw her as a newly signed actor under Xingyun and all admired her for being serious and hardworking.

Although sometimes, it is an open secret who in the circle has backing from capital.

But Han Rao’s secret was well protected because from the very beginning, Zhao Jichuan never intended to make it public.

　　-

Han Rao and Zhao Jichuan met again in the second year.

That year, the temperature was low, and in mid-January, Hengdian experienced a heavy snowfall.

It was this snowfall that contributed many iconic scenes to film and television dramas.

That day, due to the sudden heavy snowfall, the director decided on the spot to take advantage of the conditions and adapted the scene where Han Rao’s character, Princess Yueyang, exits.

Princess Yueyang is a thoroughly villainous character—ruthless and cruel, she frequently sabotages the romantic storyline of the male and female leads, and often harms the common people recklessly out of selfishness.

In the end, Princess Yueyang lost everything, her clothes tattered as she repented in the heavy snow, crawling on her knees along the streets of Chang’an to atone for her sins.

At that time, Zhao Jichuan was originally busy in Shanghai, and after finishing, he suddenly thought of Han Rao.

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen her for a long time.

Zhao Jichuan asked Sun Hao what Han Rao had been up to recently, but Sun Hao was completely confused and had no idea.

Actually, Sun Hao felt a bit like he was “tailoring his approach to the person.” When Zhao Jichuan valued Han Rao, he contacted her more frequently. When Zhao Jichuan stopped mentioning Han Rao, Sun Hao also pushed her out of his mind.

Zhao Jichuan frowned and told him to go find out.

Sun Hao contacted Xingyun again and learned that Han Rao had joined the crew two months ago and was currently filming in Hengdian.

After receiving the news, Sun Hao immediately took it upon himself to arrange Zhao Jichuan’s trip to Hengdian.

Zhao Jichuan: “Did I say I was going?”

Sun Hao knew his boss quite well; this attitude clearly meant he wanted to go.

Sun Hao: “I acted on my own accord.”

Zhao Jichuan chuckled lightly, “Let’s go.”

And just like that, Sun Hao gave the two of them a way out.

When Zhao Jichuan arrived at the Hengdian film crew, he happened to catch that snowfall.

Feather-like snowflakes decorated the entire land in a silver-white coat, adding a touch of charm to the ancient architectural film and television base in Hengdian.

When they arrived, Han Rao was thinly dressed, wearing battle-damaged makeup, her clothes disheveled, her hair and makeup messy, kneeling in the snow at the feet of the female lead, begging for her forgiveness.

She cried pitifully, quietly saying “I was wrong,” her voice filled with sorrow, gripping tightly into Zhao Jichuan’s ears.

This scene was shot twice in total. When it ended, Han Rao walked alone to a nearby chair, picked up her black down coat and wrapped it around herself, then bent down to pick up a cup of water to keep warm.

But the female lead beside her was different; two assistants followed her—one draped a coat over her, while the other handed her a hot water bottle.

For some reason, when compared like this, Zhao Jichuan found it particularly glaring.

She wore an ancient-style outfit in shades of purple, trembling as she buried her head in her arms, sobbing bitterly, her shoulders shaking.

She was still caught up in the scene, feeling very painful and tormented.

But not a single person came over to comfort her or show concern. Even the director, without exception, only said to the female lead, “Good job, that scene was well acted.”

Zhao Jichuan’s eyes were deep and intense. He turned his body slightly and asked Sun Hao in a questioning tone, “How does she manage things? Doesn’t she even have an assistant?”