Su Qianqian immediately dashed to the walk-in closet and changed into a plain white cheongsam.
Gu Chengyu, meanwhile, put on that fitted black brocade robe.
Without the makeup artists from the film crew to conceal it, the pristine satin made the girl’s skin appear even fairer than snow.
Her waist was so slender it seemed as if one could encircle it with a single hand, and her long legs peeked through the high slit of the dress.
Her hair was elegantly pinned up, revealing her delicate neck.
Though her face was free of makeup, it carried an innate air of fragile elegance.
Gu Chengyu watched her, his gaze darkening.
This attire, this aura—it was a stark contrast to her usual soft and docile demeanor.
Cool yet delicate, innocent yet kind—a paradoxical allure that stirred the heart.
Over half an hour later.
The two of them had effortlessly rehearsed three scenes, to their own surprise.
Now, Gu Chengyu held Su Qianqian in his arms, both of them sinking into the spacious single sofa.
Su Qianqian shook her head slightly, casting aside the lingering emotions of Lin Wan’s character.
She looked up at Gu Chengyu with admiration. "Chengyu, how did you do that?"
"You only glanced at the character profile once."
"I could feel Qi Heng’s struggle, reluctance, regret… and love."
Gu Chengyu lazily arched a brow, his hands resting around her slender waist. "I have a photographic memory. It’s easy for me to remember."
Su Qianqian studied him seriously. "Chengyu, it’s not just about memorizing the lines—it’s the essence, the feeling of Qi Heng."
"How did you portray him so perfectly?"
"I even caught myself believing you were Qi Heng."
The more she spoke, the more amazed she became. "Are you some kind of… born acting prodigy?"
Her glossy eyes brimmed with wonder.
"Born acting prodigy?" Gu Chengyu chuckled at her phrasing.
He pinched her rosy cheek lightly and explained, "If you trace the Gu family back three generations, you won’t find a single music virtuoso, painter, or artist. No theatrical talents either."
"Guess our genes just lack that artistic spark."
He paused, recalling his childhood. "When I was young, my family hired the finest tutors—piano, violin, oil painting, calligraphy… I could recite theories from every school of thought and mimic techniques with about seventy to eighty percent accuracy."
"But something was always missing. I never had that moment of inspiration, that breakthrough. My paintings were rigid, my music technically flawless but soulless."
Su Qianqian nestled against his chest, listening quietly.
She could easily picture a younger Gu Chengyu, frowning over a canvas, frustrated by his inability to create beyond imitation. The thought struck her as oddly endearing.
Unable to resist, she nuzzled her cheek against him.
Gu Chengyu tightened his arms slightly at her kitten-like affection and continued, "Acting? Even more absurd."
"Reading a script, imagining how a character should look or speak—it always felt abstract to me."
He looked down, meeting her gaze, his own expression tinged with surprise. "But…"
"Looking at you, hearing your lines—it just clicks."
"Clicks?" Su Qianqian blinked.
"Yeah."
Gu Chengyu searched for the right words. "It feels… familiar."
"I know your little habits when delivering lines. I can read every emotion in your eyes."
His voice softened as he stared into her clear, bright gaze. "As if we’ve rehearsed like this a thousand times before."
"Your reactions, your feelings—they naturally guide my responses."
"All of Qi Heng’s complexities surfaced effortlessly when facing you as Lin Wan."
Su Qianqian was utterly stunned, her lips parting slightly.
Effortlessly? That sounded almost mystical.
She could only attribute it to the extraordinary nature of someone like him—destined for greatness.
Amused by her dazed expression, Gu Chengyu’s smile deepened.
He leaned in, brushing the bridge of his nose against hers.
"Qianqian, snap out of it," his low voice murmured by her lips, rough with restraint.
The ticklish sensation made her lashes flutter, bringing her back to the present.
Gu Chengyu’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. "In that last scene, there were no lines. I wanted to say I don’t blame you. I wanted to say I love you. But I couldn’t."
"Now, looking at you, that regret keeps surfacing at the worst times."
He frowned slightly, as if irritated by how a fictional character could affect him so deeply. "It’s like… we really missed something."
Before Su Qianqian could respond, his arm around her waist tightened. "Enough. Let’s not dwell on it."
"I’m not Qi Heng, and you’re not Lin Wan. We’ll always be together."
Changing the subject, he asked, "Was today on set less exhausting?"
Her voice was soft. "Today was alright. Not too tiring."
"Good." His breath seemed to grow heavier.
Putting a small distance between them, his scorching gaze threatened to melt her on the spot.
"Then let me feel that you’re still here, alright?"
His eyes lingered on her glossy lips, possessive and hungry. "Let me know you’re mine."
Those last words carried a month’s worth of pent-up desire.
Su Qianqian’s body went weak under his stare, her cheeks flushing pink.
She understood exactly what he meant.
For the past month, she’d been buried in scripts and filming, utterly drained. And he, considerate of her exhaustion, had held back.
Now, it was clear his patience had run out.
Before she could reply, Gu Chengyu lifted her from the sofa and turned her around, gently laying her back against the single-seater—this time with him standing over her.
Su Qianqian found herself leaning over the sofa’s backrest, momentarily disoriented.
Her head spun for a second—Huh?
Then, realization dawned after a few stunned seconds.
She turned to look at him, her doe eyes wide with shock and shyness, like a startled fawn.
Gu Chengyu bent down, kissing her small hand before placing it firmly on the backrest’s edge.
He whispered three hushed words against her ear: "Hold on tight."
The vintage cheongsam’s high slit had always been part of its design.
But as Gu Chengyu glimpsed the tantalizing peek of her smooth thighs, he thought—for the first time—that this design suited his tastes perfectly.
......
......
......
The night was still long.
