Chapter 31 – A Secretly Married Couple
Xie Chengyu was the biggest investor in this drama. He had the authority to make such decisions. Around them, everyone looked at Nan Xiao with sympathy, while Xu Ruoxin’s lips curved in satisfaction.
Nan Xiao was already numb. She nodded. “I’ll change it now. I don’t need three hours.”
She had already studied how to revise the script yesterday, but she hadn’t dared offend Xie Chengyu.
Then she had thought of the body double solution and rushed out to find one—never expecting things to end like this.
Turning to Zhouzhou, she said quietly, “I’m sorry.” She gave her money for a cab home, then, without looking at anyone else, went back to the lounge.
Xie Chengyu’s gaze lingered on her. Her back looked so fragile, so sorrowful. Was it just his imagination?
“Chengyu?”
Xu Ruoxin tugged at his sleeve. Why was he staring at Nan Xiao?
“What is it?”
When he lowered his head, Xu Ruoxin saw only emptiness in his eyes, and her heart eased. She smiled sweetly: “Nothing. Baby’s hungry again. Let’s go eat something…”
—
Back in the lounge, Nan Xiao quickly revised the scene. She showed it to Zhou Ruicheng, confirmed it worked, then called Xu Ruoxin and Xiao Zekai to film.
The rewritten version had less intimacy, the emotions not as layered. Nan Xiao instructed Zhou Ruicheng that the editing must be done carefully—ideally creating an artistic, dreamlike blur.
If the post-production was strong, the effect could still work. If not, the scene would be ruined.
With a sigh, she handed over her notes and turned to leave. But Xie Chengyu blocked her. “You’re unhappy?”
His eyes searched hers, as though trying to read her emotions.
Nan Xiao clenched her fists. Why should I be happy? The words almost slipped out—but she reminded herself of her position.
She was a small screenwriter, easily replaced. What right did she have to speak like that to the investor?
“No.”
She shook her head, stepped around him, and left.
She had cooled toward him, and Xie Chengyu wasn’t stupid—he could feel it. His brows knitted slightly.
But it wasn’t her unhappiness that troubled him. After what happened, unhappiness was natural.
What unsettled him was himself—why did he even care about Nan Xiao’s emotions?
—
Nan Xiao returned to her lounge, intending to nap. She slipped off her shoes and lay down.
She was drifting off when knocking roused her. Frowning, she opened the door. Xu Ruoxin stood there.
“What do you want?”
Nan Xiao didn’t bother with pleasantries, her tone openly hostile.
Xu Ruoxin smiled faintly, walked in like she owned the place, shut the door, and said:
“Nan Xiao, the reason you refused to change the scene was to make me intimate with another man—so Chengyu would be upset, right?
“You don’t actually want to divorce him. You even admitted that yourself. But do you really think these petty tricks will make him love you? You have no self-awareness.”
“…”
Nan Xiao’s anger flared, sleepiness gone.
She glared coldly. “Who you’re intimate with has nothing to do with me. Stop projecting your vulgar thoughts onto me. You’re overestimating yourself.”
Her words were sharp. Yet Xu Ruoxin maintained her mask of elegance, her smile edged with ridicule. She had impressive control.
“No wonder you’re a screenwriter—sharp tongue. But what use are your words? Do you think they can hide your true motives?”
“And you?” Nan Xiao’s gaze sharpened, piercing. “What are you hiding?”
Xu Ruoxin stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. You keep provoking me. Is it because you’re insecure in your relationship with Xie Chengyu? You think maybe he doesn’t love you as much as you claim?
“You flaunt his affection everywhere, trying to prove it. But isn’t that really covering up the fact that his love isn’t as deep as you want it to be?”
“…”
For the first time, Xu Ruoxin’s expression cracked. Anger flickered in her eyes, sharp and forceful.
But then she smoothed it over, regaining her poised, unshakable facade. Her emotional control was remarkable. Nan Xiao couldn’t help but notice it.
“Everyone can see how much Chengyu loves me. Why would I need to cover it up?” Xu Ruoxin scoffed.
“You slander his feelings for me because you’re bitter—sour grapes, because you can’t have him. How pitiful.”
The words struck Nan Xiao.
It wasn’t sour grapes. But pitiful? Yes. Her life had never been anything else.
Her fists clenched tighter.
“Xu Ruoxin, watch your words,” she said firmly. “You can eat carelessly, but you can’t speak carelessly. Be ready to take responsibility for what you say.”
“Heh.”
Xu Ruoxin chuckled dismissively, flipped her voluminous curls, and left with her usual elegance.
Nan Xiao slowly crouched down, trembling.
What she had said was only to rile Xu Ruoxin. Of course Xie Chengyu loved her.
She had seen with her own eyes how he defended Xu Ruoxin before the Old Master. He must love her deeply to do that.
That was why Nan Xiao’s accusation lacked conviction—and why Xu Ruoxin had so easily brushed it off.
Xu Ruoxin was secure because she had proof of Xie Chengyu’s love.
Nan Xiao pressed her chest. The pain there was sharp and unrelenting.
—
That night, as filming wrapped, Xu Ruoxin passed her by and whispered in her ear: “For your insolence today, you’ll pay the price.”
Nan Xiao didn’t understand what she meant. Exhausted, she ignored it, packed her things, and went home.
The next morning, her phone exploded with calls from Lin Yan and Xiao Zekai.
Only then did she learn what had happened overnight.
On Weibo, an explosive post had spread like wildfire, claiming:
The Empress Qin drama was no ordinary production. Its biggest investor and its screenwriter were secretly married—not for love, but forced together under certain circumstances. And now, they were divorcing.
Meanwhile, the mysterious investor had started a romance with the show’s leading actress.
But don’t mistake the actress for a mistress—the investor and the screenwriter had only a contractual marriage.
