Shrine - Chapter 12
Chapter 12
The place Xin Chen had arranged was the best restaurant in Shucheng. Timing it for when Shi Ran and Ruan Ruan finished work, she specifically told them not to bring any staff, just a few "old friends" getting together.
Ruan Ruan found this title a bit strange, because after parting ways on the variety show, the two had barely interacted aside from liking each other's social media posts. Xin Chen had filmed in Shucheng before, but she had never once asked Ruan Ruan out.
She later found out that Xin Chen only liked her posts and never messaged her privately because she couldn't control her gossipy mouth and was afraid of screenshots being leaked. And she didn't ask Ruan Ruan out because they had no mutual friends present, and she didn't like eating with someone one-on-one, finding it awkward.
Now, she had seized the opportunity. Three people, not too many, not too few, and no two were particularly close—perfect for bridging the distance.
So, after finishing work on the period drama set, Ruan Ruan rushed over to the private room. It had a Chinese-style decor, serene and secluded. They were having individual seafood hotpots. Ruan Ruan secretly noted that Shi Ran seemed to have a sensitive constitution prone to allergies and wondered if Xin Chen had asked for Shi Ran's opinion when booking the place.
The two of them sat opposite each other, making small talk for a while. Xin Chen was looking younger and younger; two years had passed, and even her nasolabial folds had faded. She had long, curly hair, which seemed to have been professionally styled. Actors usually didn't dye or perm their hair, sticking to straight black hair to make it easier for film crews to do their makeup and styling. Her smile was still as bright and sunny as a happy puppy's, with the natural face of an extrovert.
Ruan Ruan held her tea and listened as Xin Chen shared three bits of news from film sets, complained for four sentences about Shucheng's weather, and asked five questions about any good cosmetic procedures Ruan Ruan had tried recently. Just as their conversation was getting lively, the door opened. Tall and slender, one glance was enough to know it was Shi Ran.
The waitress showed her in and then closed the door. Shi Ran took off her mask and casually hung it on the back of her chair. She wore a black long-sleeved dress, its waistline accentuating her slender figure, paired with black ankle boots. It was an all-black outfit, yet the first thing you noticed was her paleness. Her face was as white as a tissue, looking slightly fatigued after removing her makeup, her gaze languid.
"Have you ordered yet?" She habitually rubbed her wrist and gave Xin Chen a faint, one-second smile.
Shi Ran sat down next to Ruan Ruan, and when she spoke, Ruan Ruan could catch the faint scent of makeup remover. Ruan Ruan suddenly remembered that her hair was full of hairspray from the period drama wig, and her old costume also carried a jumble of perfume scents. Shi Ran was sensitive to smells, so Ruan Ruan stood up, poured tea for the other two, and, as if unintentionally, moved a few spots over, setting down the teapot and sitting beside Xin Chen.
Shi Ran turned her head, glanced at the empty seat between herself and Ruan Ruan, then turned back and lightly lifted the end of her chopsticks with her finger, saying nothing.
"Not yet, we were waiting for you," Xin Chen said, handing the iPad to Shi Ran before continuing her chat with Ruan Ruan.
"Hey, aren't you two on the same set? I thought you'd come together," she said.
Ruan Ruan explained in a soft, gentle voice, "I don't have any scenes scheduled recently, so I've been moonlighting on the set next door."
Xin Chen laughed at her use of the word "moonlighting" and asked, "So do you two usually hang out together on set?" They didn't look like they talked much.
Ruan Ruan thought about it seriously. Were she and Shi Ran friends? Shi Ran often drank her plum juice, had been to her house to see the cats, and they had shared a few jokes, but nothing more. Just like their empty WeChat chat history, at this moment, if Shi Ran didn't speak first, Ruan Ruan wouldn't dare to talk to her.
As she was hesitating on how to answer, Shi Ran spoke up calmly, "It's been a week since we last saw each other."
Xin Chen pursed her lips, and Ruan Ruan did the same. Xin Chen blinked, then fell into thought along with Ruan Ruan.
The statement sounded both familiar and distant, a bit ambiguous.
"Be-because I was moonlighting on the set next door," Ruan Ruan repeated quietly, still sounding like an NPC.
Shi Ran let out a soft "Oh" and handed the iPad back. "I've ordered."
Ruan Ruan's heart began to pound again. People with such a strong presence were like looking at flowers in a fog; it was hard to fathom Shi Ran's intentions or to tell if she was happy or not.
The three of them chatted idly as the hotpot bubbled away, the clear broth slowly turning a thick, milky white. The seafood on the table dwindled. Xin Chen took a sip of apple juice and finally got to the point.
"My studio wants to invest in and produce a drama," she said, putting down her cloyingly sweet glass. "In collaboration with Green Bud Films."
As she spoke, she faced Shi Ran, her straightforward gaze making it clear who the true guest of honor at this dinner was.
Ruan Ruan understood instantly. The reunion of old acquaintances from the variety show was just an excuse; she was just the filler person invited to make up the numbers.
She pursed her lips imperceptibly and buried her head in her food.
"You know how they say the era of middle-aged actresses is the big trend now. Everyone's piling into female-centric stories, and a lot of companies want to cash in on the GL dividend, but it's hard to get past the censors." Xin Chen covered her mouth with a napkin, let out a small burp, and lowered her voice. "I have some connections there, and I have a rough idea of how to revise it to pass review. Green Bud has the money, but… well, I'll be direct, we lack traffic."
She smiled brightly, looking at Shi Ran with a slight tilt of her head.
Shi Ran also gave a small smile, tucking a strand of hair from her right side behind her ear with her left hand.
"And your image is quite suitable, honestly. But if you don't want to touch this sensitive genre," Xin Chen paused slightly, "how about you invest? We can produce it together, and you can let me use your publicity team."
Shi Ran had her own studio, which was famous for not employing slackers.
"What's the genre? What's the scale? A web drama, a broadcast drama, or a theatrical release?" Shi Ran put down her chopsticks.
"Urban supernatural. It has four female leads, one main CP, one side CP," Xin Chen introduced the project honestly. "The story is well-written. The IP isn't huge, but it's quite famous in the GL circle. My colleague met with the author, and she's very interested."
"I plan to sign a full film and television rights deal with her. For now, we'll start with a web drama. If the IP blows up, we'll make a feature film."
"I've also talked to a few platforms. One platform has given it a pretty high preliminary rating. They said based on the IP and investment profile alone, it can be rated A-level. If we can secure you, it'll go straight to S+."
Jumping two tiers, maxing out the level. Ruan Ruan's heart skipped a beat as she took a bite of lobster.
The meat was firm and delicious, but to her, it was tasteless. Her ears moved with her puffed-out cheeks, and the desire in her heart stirred as well. She wanted to be in this show. But forget S+; even for an A-level production, it would be a struggle for her to get a role with any real substance.
"The main thing is, I think its theme is excellent. It's about greed. Let me find the synopsis for you."
Xin Chen said as she swiped her finger across her phone: "A shrine holds not gods or Buddhas, but human greed. My greed is you."
Ruan Ruan's eyelashes fluttered as she listened carefully to the sentence. It felt as if a small piece of the shrine's greed had been placed in her own restless heart.
"What's this novel called?" Shi Ran asked.
"Shrine."
When that word was spoken, it was as if they appeared in gilt letters on a movie screen. Ruan Ruan could even imagine them being vertical, accompanied by the sound of burning wood. If it were in 3D, stray sparks would float from the gaps in the characters toward the audience.
She didn't know if Shi Ran was moved, but Ruan Ruan was.
She inexplicably felt that the day she brought a shrine home was a sign that she should fight for a drama called Shrine.
How could it be such a coincidence? Right?
Shi Ran glanced at the little cat officer across from her. Her breathing was shallow, and the small mole beneath her eye trembled slightly in the steam from the hotpot, like a desire come to life.
Shi Ran was silent for about ten seconds, then spoke after some thought: "I'm not very interested."
Xin Chen's disappointment was obvious. She wanted to try again, but Shi Ran continued, "This show I'm on now will take half a year to shoot. Next month, I'm auditioning for a movie. If I get it, my schedule will be reserved for that."
"Furthermore, the theme of that movie and this one… they overlap a bit."
One was about desire, the other about greed. Shi Ran made a simple guess that their core ideas had something in common. Releasing works with similar themes in a short period wasn't good planning, and Shi Ran wasn't keen on interpreting the same thing twice.
Xin Chen was understanding but hadn't given up. She told Shi Ran she would send her the novel to read when she had time. What if she ended up liking it?
As long as Shi Ran nodded, she would immediately push for all parties to sign.
This sounded a bit like emotional blackmail, but Xin Chen was telling the truth. If she couldn't get Shi Ran, she didn't have much motivation to assemble a team and produce the drama herself; the risk was too high. But it had to be said, as an actor, always waiting to be chosen was too passive. If you could find a project you liked with a team you were happy with, it was like having your ancestral graves emit green smoke.
After they had eaten and drunk their fill, the three put on their masks and left.
Shi Ran and Xin Chen's drivers were waiting at the door. Ruan Ruan planned to take a taxi back, but Shi Ran, who was getting into her car, turned and looked at her. "I'll give you a ride."
She knew where Ruan Ruan lived, close to the film set, so it was on the way.
Ruan Ruan got in the car as told and said goodbye to Xin Chen. Xin Chen enthusiastically said they should meet again next time. They both nodded, not wanting to be photographed by paparazzi, so they didn't say much more.
The car turned from the wide main road onto a side street. The night grew darker and quieter. The breathing of the two people in the car was audible. Ruan Ruan looked out the window, her palms sweaty on her lap. She felt disappointed again. This kind of negative emotion rarely took root in her, but once it attacked, it was hard to ignore.
At the dinner table, the three of them had seemed like equals, like classmates of a similar age, chatting about girly topics. But Xin Chen's words were like the hairpin the Queen Mother of the West used to draw a line, creating a chasm that separated mortals from gods.
One was the solicitor, one was the giver, and one was… an irrelevant bystander.
Shi Ran's "Shi"—could it sometimes be the same "Shi" as in "bestow"? Even if she wasn't arrogant, the fact that so many people were waiting for her to nod had already made her arrogant on their behalf.
I really want to be famous.
These four words jumped from Wu Mei's mouth into Ruan Ruan's heart. Only when you're famous do you have the chance to choose, and you won't be like a starving person, drooling over a dish that someone else finds "uninteresting." During their conversation, Xin Chen hadn't even spared Ruan Ruan a passing glance. It was so obvious: even if Shi Ran didn't want it, no one would give it to Ruan Ruan.
Being an "18th-tier" celebrity meant you might be the eighteenth choice, or you might be the one hundred and eightieth.
Shi Ran heard a very soft sigh from her right. It was the sigh of the Little Bread.
It was as if she had been sitting in a display window all day, but the elementary school student who was supposed to buy her never came. She was about to expire. After sunset, she would be sold at a discount, and the next day there would be a new batch. No one asked if the half-priced Little Bread would be anxious, because a little bread doesn't tremble. Even the wind can't stir it.
But a careful observer caught the Little Bread's emotions—faint, timid, in the palm she unconsciously wiped on her knee.
Her fingertips moved, as if writing a character.
Shi Ran watched carefully from the corner of her eye. A dot, a horizontal stroke, a left-falling stroke… Shi.
Shi Ran's Shi, the Shi of bestowal.
She didn't know what Ruan Ruan was thinking as she looked out the window, whether it was longing or dejection. What was important was that her undisguised desire was laid bare before Shi Ran's eyes.
Like a thin thread, it trembled with her pulse, as if diagnosing an illness by a suspended thread—hidden yet persistent.
Shi Ran's wrist rested against the armrest, and she gently rubbed it as she turned it slightly.
After three or four seconds, she spoke, "Are you free?"
"Huh?" Ruan Ruan was startled and turned to look at her.
"If you're free, let's talk."
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