Not long after, Fu Chenyan left on an overseas business trip, while I checked in with the cast and crew for The Princess Arrives. Cast as the villainous second female lead, I was sitting at my vanity studying my lines when a shadow fell across the mirror. A pair of large hands rested on my shoulders, and a slick, playful voice cooed, “Well, hey there, girlfriend. Look who we have here.”

It was Lin Mo, a rising star who had previously co-starred with me, spurring a massive base of “onscreen couple” shippers. Taking advantage of the empty green room, he leaned down and whispered right against my ear, “To be honest… I wouldn’t mind making our reel romance a real one. Why don’t you come over to my room tonight so we can discuss our next project… in private?”

The stifling stench of his heavy cologne made my stomach turn. I forced a polite smile and shot him down. “No need. My schedule’s packed.”

He clicked his tongue in disappointment, but the instant someone walked through the door, he instantly wiped the predatory look off his face and strolled out as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t help a ridiculous comparison from popping into my head: Compared to my “professor husband’s” calm composure, the men around here were nothing but massive headaches.

I thought the incident with Lin Mo would quietly blow over, but who could have guessed he’d dig his own grave? Right before shooting started, I received a revised call sheet: my opening scene, a fairly standard one, had been rewritten into one where I get harassed and humiliated by a mob of beggars.

Despite my manager’s fierce objections, the crew coldly dismissed us: “Adding or cutting scenes happens all the time. Is this your first time on a set or what?” For the sake of my career, I swallowed my pride and endured it. But I was dead wrong. This wasn’t creative liberty, it was Lin Mo’s petty retaliation for me refusing to play ball.

On set, filthy hands began grabbing at me, pushing far past the boundaries of acting. My thin gauze costume was nearly ripped apart, and someone even used the chaos as an excuse to give my waist a hard pinch. Panic seized me, and I screamed, “Get off me!” But the director never called cut. It was only when I frantically shattered a glass prop bottle that the madhouse came to a halt.

When I stormed over to the playback monitor to lodge a complaint, all I heard were Lin Mo and the director laughing together.

“That scene you added was gold, but censorship’s gonna throw a fit.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll just chop it out in post.”

So my sheer terror had been nothing more than their little pastime.

Lin Mo cornered me near a quiet row of parked trailers later that day. He casually made his pitch: “Wen Yu, I actually like you quite a bit. Why don’t we see each other on the down-low? I’ve turned down more women than I can count, but if it’s you, I’ll make an exception.”

He reached out to touch my face with a triumphant smirk. I ducked away and gave him a frigid look. “I have a boyfriend.”

He let out a derisive snort. “Bring him here and let me take a look. Only then will I leave you alone.”

I quietly tapped my phone screen to save the voice recording. If it came down to it, we could both go down in flames. I didn’t care about this filthy role anymore.

Dusk was falling when Fu Chenyan called to check in. His voice was as steady as if he were asking about a thesis progress report, yet it sent a wave of heat straight to my nose. Overwhelmed by a sudden rush of vulnerability, the words slipped out before I could stop them:

“Fu Chenyan… when are you coming back? When you get here… can you come pick me up?”

Hearing his secretary urge him into a meeting over the line, I hurriedly hung up, mentally cursing myself for acting clingy in a contract marriage. Yet, just a few hours after the night shoot wrapped, a tall, imposing figure was already waiting in front of my car.

Seeing me shivering from having just done a splash scene in the cold water, he shed his overcoat, wrapped it tightly around me, and pulled me into his chest.

“What happened? I saw the messages in your crew group chat while I was on the plane… I flew back specifically to back you up.”

Right on cue, Lin Mo sauntered over with an obnoxious scowl. “Wen Yu, is this your boyfriend?” He extended a hand to Fu Chenyan, not missing the chance to drop a subtle jab: “Your girlfriend’s pretty, man. You better hold onto her tight.”

Even with Fu Chenyan right there, Lin Mo didn’t put an end to his petty games. He deliberately made things hard for me during a princess-carry scene, demanding retakes over and over under the pretext that “she’s too heavy.” I looked down at my frame, weighing barely under ninety-nine pounds, and swallowed the lump in my throat.

Just as the tension reached a boiling point, the director suddenly yelled cut and announced a major piece of news: the project’s biggest lead investor was arriving tonight and wanted to meet the main cast.

The banquet was held at an ultra-exclusive private dining club. The moment we walked in, the room was thick with tension because the primary investor was already seated at the head of the table, his face as cold as ice.

The director and Lin Mo tried to use their usual flattery to curry favor, but the investor didn’t even bother looking up. His voice cut through the room like a frozen blade: “Director Zhang, pull up today’s raw footage for me. I heard someone took it upon themselves to alter the script?”

Lin Mo, accustomed to being pampered by his fanbase, opened his mouth to talk back, but his manager quickly yanked him down by his sleeve. The fallout was brutal: to appease the investor’s wrath, Lin Mo was forced to down over a dozen glasses of hard liquor back-to-back, only released from the ordeal once his face was completely drained of color.