Chapter 37: Afraid of Cats?

“Miss, are you alright?” Fu Yuanye tossed aside the wooden stick in his hand and grasped Lian Youyou, who was still shaken.

Lian Youyou’s face was streaked with tears and cold sweat, so much so that she could no longer tell them apart.

She was more than just afraid of cats—even the most adorable felines were always something she would avoid at all costs.

Fan Chi, arriving belatedly and leisurely, appeared before her, feigning concern in front of the media. “Youyou! Are you okay? Frightened, aren’t you? Don’t be afraid, your father is here, you’re safe now.”

“Go away,” she retorted.

Fan Chi was clearly putting on a show for the cameras, not genuinely worried about her.

Fan Xiaoyun burned with anger, but with so many reporters present, she had to maintain her image and couldn’t afford to lose her composure. She forced herself to swallow her fury, and, accompanied by her assistant, retreated to her nanny van to change clothes and wipe her face.

“Sister Yun, why did Director Fan go over to comfort Lian Youyou?” Xiao Shu asked as she dabbed at Fan Xiaoyun’s face, glancing toward Lian Youyou.

“If you keep quiet, no one will mistake you for a mute!” Fan Xiaoyun snapped, venting her anger by roughly wiping her face with makeup wipes and discarding them—soon, the floor by her feet was littered with the tossed wipes.

Even after being scolded, Xiao Shu showed no intention of stopping. She continued to stir the pot. “Director Fan really doesn’t know where his priorities lie. You’re his only daughter, after all. That Lian Youyou is just some stray child Lian Meng brought home years ago, and who knows if Director Fan is just playing the role of caretaker. Sister Yun, you’re far too straightforward. Lian Youyou is crafty, you’d better be careful—don’t let her seize the family inheritance from you in the future.”

With Xiao Shu’s words, Fan Xiaoyun suddenly grew wary.

Lian Youyou had been raised by her grandparents since birth, and in more than twenty years, she had barely set foot in their home. Her father, Fan Chi, had never shown her any concern. So Fan Xiaoyun had never considered Lian Youyou a threat, nor had she imagined Lian Youyou would enter the entertainment industry, much less thought about the inheritance.

Fan Chi, having been rebuffed, returned to the van and said to Fan Xiaoyun, “Fix your makeup and change your clothes, then go home. Stop acting like a diva and throwing tantrums.”

Fan Xiaoyun crossed her arms, fuming. “Dad, why did you go to comfort Lian Youyou just now? Mom said she’s in cahoots with Quan Qing’er, and all those recent news stories were orchestrated by Lian Youyou. How could you care about someone so ungrateful?”

“What do you know? Your father has walked more bridges in this industry than you’ve walked roads. I’m already in the spotlight; of course I have to be nice to Lian Youyou to make a good impression for the media.”

Fan Xiaoyun remained unconvinced. “Dad, back when Lian Youyou was in middle school and got bullied to the point of near death by a group of girls, you never bothered to help her. Now, just because she was scared by a cat, you’re so concerned? Are you planning to give her a share of the inheritance? Are you—”

Fan Chi’s fist clenched at his side, and he suddenly raised his hand and slapped Fan Xiaoyun hard.

“Dad, you hit me!” Fan Xiaoyun cried out, clutching her face in disbelief.

Fan Chi trembled with anger. “I hit you because you speak without thinking! You’re in the entertainment business, daughter—do you realize that one slip of the tongue can get you drowned by netizens’ spit? As for the inheritance, let me tell you: the money is mine, I earned it, and I’ll divide it as I please. It’s not your place to dictate!”

Fan Xiaoyun stood stunned for two seconds, then slowly lowered her head and apologized, “Dad, I’m sorry…”

“As long as you know you’re wrong. In the future, mind your words—speak less, whether it’s appropriate or not.”

Thinking of Lian Youyou, whose legs had gone weak from the cat scare, Fan Chi felt a pang of doubt.

He only knew that Lian Meng feared cats. Lian Meng had been scratched twice—once, she said, was at age five, by a calico cat that wounded her leg.

The second time was after their marriage, on a trip to his hometown. They encountered a black cat like today’s; it scratched her deeply, right at the artery inside her wrist. The blood gushed like a fountain and wouldn’t stop.

That time, Lian Meng nearly lost her life to the black cat’s claws.

Lian Meng had good reason to fear cats, but why did Lian Youyou share the same terror?

Ever since Lian Youyou’s suicide attempt, he’d noticed her words and actions increasingly resembled Lian Meng’s—even this fear of cats was identical.

His memory of Lian Youyou was of a girl dressed awkwardly, hunched when she walked, head always lowered, wearing thick bottle-bottom glasses, timid and painfully self-conscious.

But now, Lian Youyou held her head high, her posture upright, dressed fashionably and radiant, utterly transformed.

Was it that he had never truly understood Lian Youyou, or had she really changed?

…

The opening ceremony was marred by misfortune; the director and several key crew members considered the black cat an omen of bad luck and promptly invited a master to perform a ritual for them.

After the ceremony, with the cast’s costume photos taken, filming officially began within days.

Lian Youyou played a cunning white lotus—a scheming daughter of the Grand Tutor, historically Zhao Dezhao’s legitimate wife. In the drama, she schemes against the heroine at every turn to win Zhao Dezhao’s heart. Even the male lead’s eventual suicide is inseparably linked to her manipulations.

She won Zhao Dezhao as a person, but not his heart.

In short, it was a character that made people grit their teeth in hatred.

Landing this role, Lian Youyou was excited. It was her first time playing a villain.

She had always longed to challenge herself with a villainous part, but never had the chance—every production that approached her offered the leading female role.

Because her character was a lady of noble birth, her costume and makeup were relatively understated.

Fan Xiaoyun, on the other hand, played a courtesan from a brothel—a flower queen famed for her artistry, not her body—so her attire and makeup were lavish and striking.

The first scene depicted Zhao Dezhao, forced by imperial decree to marry the Grand Tutor’s daughter, parting from his true love. The scene involved a secret meeting after the wedding ceremony, exchanging heartfelt confessions.

Fan Xiaoyun had more lines, and hers were emotional, with crying. To help her get into character, the director first discussed the scene with her, leaving Fu Yuanye aside.

“Miss, you’re sitting here alone?” Fu Yuanye, dressed in bright red wedding attire, sat beside Lian Youyou, who was similarly attired.

They looked striking together—a handsome couple, indeed.

“Mm, the next scene will be the three of us, so they did my makeup early,” Lian Youyou replied, her head weighed down by the heavy ornaments, making her neck ache.

Though it was deep winter, the actors’ costumes were still thin. Lian Youyou had stuck warming pads inside her clothes, but the cold wind still cut through her.

“Miss, aren’t you going to review your script and memorize your lines?”

Lian Youyou arched her brow. “I’ve already memorized the script.”

She was hopeless at science, but her humanities grades were always top-notch. Science required strong logic—something she lacked. Humanities, on the other hand, simply needed memorization, and Lian Youyou had always excelled at it, learning quickly.

Of course, her speed wasn’t photographic memory—she memorized quickly, and forgot just as fast. Usually, in less than a week, the lines would vanish from her mind.

But acting wasn’t like school; she didn’t need to remember for long, so this worked well for her.

Not everything could be memorized easily, though. For instance, English—she couldn’t memorize it at all.

“Amazing, miss! You’re beautiful and smart, you should’ve majored in acting. If you’d debuted early, what place would Fan Xiaoyun have now?” Fu Yuanye rested his chin in his hand, tilting his head at Lian Youyou, looking every bit the starry-eyed fan.

“…”

But Fan Xiaoyun had the formidable backing of Fan Chi and Qu Wuyan.

…

It seemed Fan Xiaoyun really lacked any acting talent…

After the director finished explaining the scene to Fan Xiaoyun and Fu Yuanye, and filming began, Fan Xiaoyun simply couldn’t get into character.

“Dezhao, Ping’er doesn’t blame you, as long as you’re happy…”

“Cut!” Director Li, sporting a thick beard, had lost all composure after more than ten takes. He threw aside his script and pointed at Fan Xiaoyun, roaring, “Xiaoyun, what’s wrong with you? We’ve nearly shot twenty takes—why is it always like this? You can’t cry, there’s no sorrow in your expression, your face is wooden—try to immerse yourself! Your man is marrying another woman, for heaven’s sake! And you’re just indifferent?”

Lian Youyou’s stomach grumbled in protest. She looked up at the sun overhead—it was already midday, after shooting since dawn.

To provoke Director Li, known for his good temper, into an outburst was quite a feat; Fan Xiaoyun had truly managed it.

Director Li waved his hand. “Makeup artist, eye drops for Xiaoyun, touch up her makeup, and do the same for Yuanye. We’ll try again.”

Lian Youyou sighed. For the sake of the whole crew getting lunch sooner, she’d have to help.

“Director, it’s the first day of filming, Xiaoyun hasn’t found her groove yet. Let me demonstrate the scene.” She swept her wide sleeves and strode over.

“Youyou, don’t make trouble,” Director Li dismissed her. “Xiaoyun is professionally trained and still can’t get it right. You’ve never filmed before—what could you possibly show? A demonstration?”

Not just Director Li—none of the crew paid Lian Youyou any mind.

She was merely blessed with beauty, had starred in an online game commercial, and, as Lian Meng’s daughter, had recently become popular. Her looks were so striking that Richard had signed her straight to New Century Entertainment—the top agency in the country. A newcomer landing such a deal was considered lucky.

“Lian Youyou, why are you meddling? It’s not your scene yet!” Fan Xiaoyun, gentle and poised when reporters were present, was now utterly unrestrained. “You only filmed some stupid online game ad—don’t get ahead of yourself! You’re not even a drama major, what do you know about acting? Demos? You’d better study your script more, so you don’t embarrass yourself when it’s your turn!”