Chapter 005: Revenge

After lunch, having declined the crew’s offer to help, Song Wan left the set alone to buy water. Just as she stepped out of the supermarket, Wang Juan appeared before her.

“Song Wan, are you happy now that I’ve fallen to this point?” Wang Juan stared at her, eyes brimming with venomous resentment.

“Oh, I am quite happy, actually,” Song Wan replied, her gaze calm.

Wang Juan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You…”

“Me?” Song Wan lifted her eyes, a smile blooming like a flower. “Curious why I didn’t finish you off?”

If not for the fact that the original host’s suicide was mostly driven by her own illness (autism often comes with a degree of world-weariness and self-destructive tendencies), and that night’s incident had merely acted as a trigger—plus, the original host had not actually been harmed by President Jin—Song Wan would have sent Wang Juan straight to the underworld long ago.

But let Wang Juan off? Impossible!

Having lived again, Song Wan had no concerns holding her back.

The murderous intent in Song Wan’s eyes was like maggots gnawing at the bones, creeping from her gaze into Wang Juan’s very marrow. Wang Juan recoiled sharply. “I was your only friend, how could you…”

The only friend? How laughable!

“What wouldn’t I dare?” Song Wan smiled. “When you tricked me into a strange man’s bed, did you ever consider whether I’d dare retaliate?”

Wang Juan panicked. “You’re taking revenge?” Her eyes grew round with terror. “You know the truth?”

“I do.” Song Wan’s eyes darkened. “You didn’t want me in the entertainment industry, you didn’t want me to play Miaoyu, you wanted to ruin me. Now all your retribution is coming back on your own head. How does it feel? And this is only the beginning. You’ll face much more…”

“What you did to me, I’ll reclaim from you, step by step.” Song Wan leaned in, whispering by Wang Juan’s ear, “Wang Juan, be sure to wait for it. Enjoy yourself.”

Wang Juan looked up, meeting Song Wan’s pitch-black eyes, and suddenly screamed, fleeing down the street. “No, this can’t be real!”

Ignoring the curious stares from passersby, Song Wan simply watched Wang Juan until she disappeared from sight, then glanced down at the empty spray bottle in her hand.

She tossed it into a nearby trash can, strolled leisurely back toward the set, the corner of her mouth curling into a contented smile.

As she’d promised, everything the original host had endured, Wang Juan would experience in turn.

The drug in that spray bottle had been prepared just for Wang Juan. Once it took effect, she too would know the terror of being forced into intimacy with a stranger.

The original host had been lucky to encounter Jin Youqian and barely escape disaster; whether Wang Juan would have such luck remained to be seen…

Now, the old debts between her and the original host were truly settled. From here on, there would be only Song Wan in this world.

Wang Juan, panic-stricken, leapt into a taxi and fled the studio city, but midway through the journey a wave of heat swept over her body.

At first, she barely noticed, but as it intensified—a sensation like a thousand ants crawling over her skin, intolerable and maddening—Song Wan’s words echoed in her mind: “What you did to me, I’ll reclaim from you, step by step.”

Terror seized Wang Juan. She frantically instructed the driver to head for the nearest hospital.

But it was too late. By the time Wang Juan’s consciousness faded and she lunged at the driver on instinct alone, they were still half an hour from the nearest hospital.

The driver, thinking he was being attacked, was nearly scared out of his wits.

When he realized something was wrong, and being a married man with no untoward thoughts, he simply worried about getting into trouble and dumped Wang Juan in a deserted alley before fleeing the scene.

Wang Juan, dazed, felt as though her whole body were on fire, tearing desperately at her clothes. “Hot… so hot…”

Ten minutes passed before someone happened by the alley. Wang Juan grabbed the person’s leg as if clinging to a lifeline. “Help me… I’m so hot…”

The man didn’t hesitate, dragging her deeper into the alley, then began biting at her exposed skin.

The pain snapped Wang Juan back to partial awareness. Struggling to open her eyes, she glimpsed a blurry figure…

“Song Wan, even in death I won’t forgive you—”

…

Sitting before her dressing table, Song Wan’s face was cold, all emotion hidden away, leaving only calm.

She blinked, and a radiant smile bloomed.

In that instant, she glittered, dazzling and aggressive—a single glance piercing straight to the hearts of those who met her gaze, taking root, drawing sustenance, and blossoming into the most seductive of flowers.

Unforgettable.

Today would be Miaoyu’s final scene—the climax of the entire drama. At this moment, her makeup combined the mysterious allure of Miao ethnic dress with the innocence and brilliance of a young girl. In the novel, this was described as the most breathtaking moment of Miaoyu’s life.

Since the day Song Wan resolved Zhao Meng’s trouble, Director Zhou Qi had warned Zhao Meng, and filming had gone smoothly. At Song Wan’s request, Zhou Zhou became her exclusive makeup artist on set.

Fortunately, he didn’t let her down.

“All departments, stand by…”

Zhou Zhou finished the last brushstroke, and the two shared a smile.

Song Wan rose and walked onto the set.

The leading actress, Zhao Meng, and the lead actor, Chen Yi, were chatting nearby. Seeing Song Wan approach, Chen Yi greeted her immediately. Zhao Meng’s expression darkened.

Song Wan paid her no mind, stepping into place and smiling at Director Zhou Qi. “Director, I’m ready.”

Chen Yi’s expression shifted; he quickly stood to prepare as well. “I’m ready too.”

Zhou Qi waved his hand. “Action!”

Song Wan’s expression changed instantly, entering her role.

“Why would I want to kill you? You’re my dearest family.” Looking at Qin Feng’s face, twisted in anger and grief, Miaoyu wanted to shout, to question, to curse. But in the end, she only smiled calmly, sorrow hidden deep in her eyes, like a mysterious flower blooming at the end of the road. “Because I wanted to kill, so I killed.”

She didn’t mention her despair in Miaojiang, nor the fury at returning home to find herself replaced by a stranger. She merely smiled quietly, but the sorrow was so intense, it wrenched the hearts of all who watched.

Qin Feng sensed something was wrong and tried to withdraw the sword pressed to Miaoyu’s throat. Miaoyu grabbed the blade, and with a swift movement, cut her own throat.

Blood spattered forth.

Miaoyu collapsed, her enchanting eyes, now wide open, finally returning to silence and purity.

A crimson flower bloomed beneath her—desperate and fervent, as her life had been.

A single tear slid down Qin Feng’s cheek. Closing his eyes, he whispered, “Sister…”

…

The immersion was so strong that everyone around felt as if they had witnessed the death of that extraordinary, enigmatic girl with their own eyes. They stood stunned, mourning with Qin Feng.

At last, the director’s choked voice called, “Cut.”

Everyone snapped out of it, looking at Song Wan with complicated emotions.

This wasn’t the first time Song Wan had drawn the entire crew into the scene, but each time, it left them shaken—Song Wan, not yet twenty, could deliver performances that surpassed many acclaimed actors and actresses. It was uncanny.

No one felt this more keenly than Chen Yi, who had faced Song Wan’s acting head-on. That feeling of being forcibly drawn in, unable to control himself, left him both exhilarated and instinctively guarded.

Song Wan noticed Chen Yi’s wariness, but thought little of it.

The set of “Immortal in the Clouds” was fine in all respects except for the two leads: Zhao Meng, whose acting was decent but resented Song Wan for “stealing” the coveted role of Miaoyu and targeted her at every turn; and Chen Yi, whose acting was abysmal, causing countless retakes, yet who fancied himself irresistible and constantly made suggestive overtures toward Song Wan.

“Wrap!” Zhou Qi called out joyfully, his face overflowing with smiles. “Miaoyu’s scenes are officially complete! To thank Song Wan for bringing my vision of Miaoyu to life, the wrap party tonight is on me—at the Imperial Hotel!”

Ignoring the others’ cheers, Zhou Qi picked up a hefty red envelope and handed it to Song Wan. “It’s tradition in our profession—play a dead character, get a red envelope for luck!”

Recalling how, in her past life, she’d been thrown out right after playing a corpse, Song Wan’s eyes reddened slightly. “Thank you, Director Zhou.”

The Imperial Hotel, a chain under Peak International, was known for its exclusivity. Zhou Qi securing a spot on such short notice proved his family’s influence was no mere rumor.

Though Zhou Qi was hosting, the true focus of the evening was Song Wan, Miaoyu’s actress.

As the banquet began, Zhao Meng couldn’t wait to stand, wine in hand. “Today, Miss Song Wan leaves our crew. Though you joined halfway through filming, I believe I should toast you nonetheless.”

Oh? Picking a fight?

Song Wan smiled. She was never one to shy from a challenge.

In front of everyone, Song Wan lifted a full bottle of high-proof XO and smiled at Zhao Meng. “Sister Zhao, you’re a senior I’ve looked up to since I began acting. How could I let you toast me?” Ignoring Zhao Meng’s darkening face, Song Wan continued, “This bottle’s still sealed; it’s the least I can do to show my respect. So—I’ll drink it all, and you may do as you please.”

With that, Song Wan tipped her head back and drank, challenging Zhao Meng with her gaze as she went.

Already displeased that Song Wan had taken the most popular role, Zhao Meng now found herself mocked for her age. Provoked, she grabbed another bottle of XO and began chugging—

“Cough, cough…”

Drinking too quickly, Zhao Meng choked, clutching the table as her eyes streamed.

“Sister Zhao!” Her assistant was frantic—Zhao Meng’s tolerance was poor, yet she was competing with Song Wan?

Song Wan set the bottle down, feigning concern. “Are you alright, Sister Zhao?”

Zhao Meng glared daggers at her, nearly exploding with fury—

Song Wan’s bottle was still nearly full; she’d actually drunk less than Zhao Meng. “Song Wan, you… cough, cough…”

Song Wan’s lips curled. “Is there anything else you need, Sister Zhao?”

Though Zhao Meng was at a loss, neither the director nor the male lead sympathized—they both saw it as her own doing.

Realizing this, Zhao Meng grew even angrier but dared not push further. She finally understood: Song Wan’s former meekness was all an act—she was not to be trifled with.

The banquet ended quietly. As the others left, Director Zhou Qi kept Song Wan behind.