Several cities apart, Feng Baiyu sent his sympathies. Then his tone shifted to seriousness. "Let me remind you, if you want to win the beauty's heart, don't stab He Yueming in the back. Let Zizhi handle it herself—it's a matter of respect."
Yu Ze smirked faintly, a shadow briefly crossing his face. "I know my limits."
"He Yueming has had it too easy," Feng Baiyu commented. "When Zizhi had her accident, he was just a nobody. Now he dominates the screens, rising as if a hidden hand has been pushing him upward."
"Really?" Yu Ze replied nonchalantly.
After a brief chat with Feng Baiyu, Yu Ze waited until 10 PM before calling Zhou Zizhi. "Zizhi, it's story time."
Zhou Zizhi removed the face mask from her face and put her phone on speaker.
"Once upon a time, there was an adorable little rabbit. She went to town to buy a New Year's gift for her mom…"
Zhou Zizhi lowered her eyelids. His voice, low and gentle, sounded especially warm on this snowy winter night.
The snow had been falling intermittently for a week, and the New Year was approaching.
Yu Ze's mother, longing for a grandchild, sighed, "It's almost the New Year. Son, didn't you say you'd bring someone home?"
Yu Ze bit into a freshly steamed crab roe bun. "A victorious battle requires the right timing, location, and harmony. You can't rush it."
Upstairs, Yu Ze's father shook his newspaper and nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Acting too hastily is a grave mistake."
"What are you two talking about?" Yu Ze's mother glared.
Yu Ze wiped his mouth. "Dad, Mom, I'm off to work."
Once their son left, the grand living room felt cold and empty despite its luxury.
"Qianqian likes Ah Ze, and you know that," Yu Ze's father said, tapping the table. "You've taken so much from her. Don't you feel bad about it?"
Yu Ze's mother's face darkened. "Why are you saying it like that?"
Yu Ze's father put down his newspaper. "I can say worse."
"Fine, fine," she replied impatiently. "I won't accept anything else from her in the future."
Yu Ze's father furrowed his brows, exuding his usual air of authority. "Qianqian and Ah Ze aren't meant to be. Don't make things harder for him."
Chastened, she replied, "Got it."
He softened his tone. "The daughter-in-law will come, and so will the grandchild."
"That may be true," she sighed. "But the sooner, the better. That way, I can help take care of the child."
Yu Ze's father held back his thoughts. Wishful thinking. Even if you're willing, the daughter-in-law might not let you. Besides, we haven't even seen her shadow yet—where would the grandchild come from?
As for Yu Ze's future daughter-in-law, Zhou Zizhi sat in a chair wrapped in a thick, long black down coat. Her face was heavily made up, pale as a ghost. With her jet-black straight hair, she looked both beautiful and somewhat eerie from a distance.
Horror films haven't flourished in the domestic market, but they're low-cost, so many still pursue them.
Zhou Zizhi exhaled a puff of white breath. It had been a long time since she accepted a horror script. She couldn't recall the exact year, but it was also a winter like this. Exhausted, she sat waiting for her scene, half-asleep. She felt a weight on her shoulder and faintly heard a child's laughter near her ear, distant and indistinct.
The crew members were busy chatting, but she was covered in goosebumps.
It happened only once, like a hallucination.
Since then, Zhou Zizhi has never removed the jade pendant from her neck. After waking from her car accident, she even sought another to wear.
Believe it or not, just don't do wrong. Those things come and go.
The director of Someone Behind You, Zhang Ning, had once mentored Zhou Zizhi, teaching her much. Out of friendship and gratitude, she couldn't refuse his request.
"Dim the lights over there a bit more!" Zhang Ning, wrapped in a military coat, instructed as he passed. "Zizhi, let's aim for a one-take shot."
It was minus ten degrees today. The sooner the shoot finished, the better.
"Okay." Zhou Zizhi removed her coat and handed it to Jian Yu. In a tight ballet dress that accentuated her figure, she shivered, stretched, and took a deep breath.
She played a ballet instructor in the film and had trained extensively with a professional teacher for the role. She was confident in a one-take success.
Jian Yu glanced at the eerie set and felt a chill.
Some staff whispered, "Her Woman Under the Eaves was a classic. None of the remakes compare."
Another staff member, creeped out, said, "I watched that movie. I couldn't look in the mirror alone for a while."
Jian Yu rubbed her arms. The film was famous, but she had always been too scared to watch it.
"Lights, camera, ready—" Zhang Ning waved his arm. "Action!"
Under the pale light, a long-haired woman danced gracefully before a mirror. Her white skirt billowed as she spun on her toes, tracing a perfect arc in the air.
She balanced on one foot and began to spin faster, as if she might take flight at any moment.
All eyes were glued to the dancing woman. Her straight legs and seductive red lips paled in comparison to her neck.
Snowy white, slender, exquisite like a carved masterpiece.
The lights in the dance studio flickered.
The tension spread, enveloping the room.
The woman turned, and the camera zoomed in on her refined features. Her gaze fixed on something, her pupils shrinking.
The cameraman standing in that direction tensed, drawn into the scene's terror. He instinctively looked back, chills running down his spine.
"Cut," Zhang Ning said, satisfied.
Everyone exhaled, shaking off the unease from the eerie scene.
Zhou Zizhi wiped the sweat from her neck. "Jian Yu, what are you staring at?"
Jian Yu touched Zhou Zizhi's silky black hair. "Your hair is so smooth and shiny." She wanted to say the performance was terrifying.
Zhou Zizhi chuckled. "Did I scare you?"
"A little," Jian Yu admitted shyly. "I'm a scaredy-cat. I sleep with the lights on."
Zhou Zizhi said something shocking: "I do too."
Jian Yu's eyes widened. "Are you afraid of ghosts too?"
Zhou Zizhi shook her head. She feared the night.
A one-take success. Zhang Ning admired Zhou Zizhi. If he were ten years younger, he'd have pursued her without hesitation.
"Zizhi, I discussed with the writer and added a dozen more scenes for you. Think it over."
He handed her the script. "Take a look and let me know soon."
Zhou Zizhi flipped through it briefly. "I'll give you my answer tonight, Ning-ge."
As she left, Feng Hao arrived, just missing her.
In the makeup room, Feng Hao scrolled through his phone casually. "Who's playing Bai Ge?"
"The one and only Zhou Zizhi," the makeup artist replied.
"Why didn't I see her?" he asked, still casual.
"She left in a hurry," the makeup artist said. "Zhang Dao wanted you two to discuss the film, but she didn't wait."
Feng Hao's hand paused, his brow furrowing. That woman probably already guessed my intentions. She didn't even leave a chance for flirtation—clean and decisive.