Chapter 8 : Tangled Hearts and Social Games

Shen Mengke had been crying nonstop lately.
Yesterday, she cried on set, wept silently when Sunny scolded her for missing the mark, sobbed over drinks, and even shed tears tangled in bed with Chen Yanxing.
Her tears felt endless, her heart heavy.
She didn’t believe she had any “spark.”
She was still a textbook actress, still unable to truly act.
She couldn’t capture the pain of being abandoned by her sister and homeland—she only knew the sting of her mother’s betrayal.

Her struggle to shake off the role surprised both Sunny and Xu Shinian.
The crew had been filming for nearly a month, and Shen Mengke was known for slipping in and out of character quickly—too quickly, sometimes, playing herself rather than Lin Shutang.
Xu Shinian sat beside her, gently patting her back, pulling her into a comforting embrace.
With a tissue, she wiped Shen Mengke’s tears, murmuring reassurances like a kind senior.

Shen Mengke was overwhelmed, embarrassed to cry so much in front of the crew.
She shook her head, taking the tissue.
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
Xu Shinian opened her mouth to say more, but Sunny stopped her, signaling to give Shen Mengke space to recover.

Sunny had seen all kinds of actors and could read their needs.
Xu Shinian glanced at Shen Mengke, gave her shoulder two light pats, and walked away.

The room emptied, leaving Shen Mengke alone.
The half-open door seemed to form a barrier, muting the outside clamor.
She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and exhaled slowly, wiping her tears.
Her blurred eyes scanned the room.

Heart’s Query was filmed in Jiangcheng’s ancient palace, every detail historically accurate.
For night scenes, they avoided bright lights.
With the door closed, the only light came from the candle before her, its glow fading into darkness around her.
She sighed, blew out the candle, and walked out.

Xiao He rushed over, handing her a water bottle and phone.
“Sunny says you’re done for tonight.
They’re shooting the last scene—Jiang Ranran and Xu Shinian, the envoy meeting the young emperor.
That’s a wrap for today.”
She added, “Sunny says rest well.
These scenes are heavy.
But Xu Shinian asked you to wait for her.”
Shen Mengke nodded, checking her phone.
“You head back.
I’m going with Xu Shinian to see Yuan Yushan.”
“Yuan Yushan?” Xiao He’s eyes widened.
Shen Mengke’s admiration for Yuan wasn’t secret, but…
“How’d you end up with her?
Yuan Yushan with her?”
Xiao He’s words were choppy, but Shen Mengke got it—Yuan rarely appeared off-screen, and her close connections were unknown.
Shen Mengke laughed.
“Xu Shinian’s got no reason to lie.
It’s late, go home.”
Xiao He hesitated, then nodded.
“Call if you need me.”
Shen Mengke nodded, watching her leave, then replied to Chen Yanxing.

[Shen Mengke: Was filming, missed it. Tomorrow?]
Chen Yanxing replied quickly: [Shooting this late?]
Shen Mengke glanced at the time—8 p.m.
She smiled silently, teasing: [What, Second Miss Chen ready to fulfill her duties?]
But she added: [Got plans tonight.]

Chen Yanxing read the message, then looked at Ren Zhou, who was inspecting her new place.
“Zhou, question.”
“Hm?”
“If… someone has plans tonight, what kind of plans?”
Ren Zhou raised an eyebrow, smirking.
“Someone?
Who?”
Chen Yanxing frowned.
“Someone… connected to you.
That kind of connection.”
“A contract thing… never mind, you wouldn’t get it.
When are you leaving?”
Ren Zhou squinted.
“Why wouldn’t I?
Night plans?
Not just a friendly hangout, right?
And why should I leave?”
Chen Yanxing ignored the first question.
“It’s late.
You staying here?
This tiny place can’t fit two.”
Ren Zhou laughed, stepping closer.
“Miss Chen, remember whose birthday it is?
And you’re really living here?
This is… bleak.”
She eyed the cramped rental—no furniture, just a mattress, barely move-in ready.
Chen Yanxing shrugged.
“I’m broke.”
Ren Zhou laughed.
“Miss Chen, boss lady, broke?
Is anyone poor then?”
“Come on, stop playing pitiful.
Let’s go.”
Chen Yanxing: “Where?”
Ren Zhou rolled her eyes.
“Have you listened to me at all today?”
Leaning close, she shouted, “Du Junyi’s birthday!”
Chen Yanxing frowned, pushing her away, recalling Ren Zhou’s earlier mention.

They were roughly the same age, practically growing up together.
But Chen Yanxing, long absent from Jiangcheng and distant as a child due to messy family issues, only really connected with Ren Zhou.
She frowned, waving her off.
“Not going.”
“No way.”
Ren Zhou yanked her up.
“You don’t get to ditch.
I already RSVP’d for you.”
“And I’m not facing Ren Qi alone!”

Chen Yanxing let herself be pulled up.
Ren Qi, Ren Zhou’s sister, didn’t get along with her—different from her own rift with Chen Xingxing.

“Who’s going?” Chen Yanxing asked.
Ren Zhou shot her a look.
“Do you ever check the group chat?
A few people, not many.
The big event’s in three days—Chen Yanqing, Ren Qi, and those ones…”
Chen Yanxing knew who “those” were without clarification—Chen Xingxing and her chaotic, troublemaking friends.

Her reluctance grew.
“Then don’t go.”
“No chance!
It’s Du Junyi!”
Ren Zhou tugged her toward the door.
“Where’s your key?
Grab it, change shoes, let’s move!”
As Chen Yanxing switched shoes, Ren Zhou briefed her.
“Insider tip: Old Lady Du’s not long for this world.
Junyi’s mom’s too busy with her world tour to care.
The Du side branches are circling like vultures.”
“Junyi’s holding the family together alone.
Everyone in Jiangcheng’s betting on her.
If she pulls through, her status skyrockets.”
“Getting tight with her now is good for us.”
Chen Yanxing glanced at her.
“You’re betting on Junyi?”
Ren Zhou grinned.
“It’s Du Junyi.”

If Chen Yanqing was a standout among their peers, Du Junyi was a prodigy, leaps ahead.
Her business acumen was sharp, her decisions bold yet calculated, handling elders with ease and confidence.
She’d skipped grades, entered the market early, and expanded fast.
Frankly, if not for the Du family’s messy side branches, Old Lady Du’s failing health, and her mother’s generation’s weakness, the Dus could’ve surpassed the Chens.
The Dus lacked a Chen Zhiyu, but Chen Yanqing could still rival Du Junyi in some ways.
Everyone pitied the Dus’ lack of luck but bet on Junyi’s future.
Ren Zhou said, “Yanxing, you’re her luck.”

Ren Zhou’s unshakable faith in her childhood friend felt exaggerated to Chen Yanxing, but she went along anyway.

Chen Yanxing vanished again.
Shen Mengke stared at her phone, sighing.
She told herself to chill—nothing was official yet, and this was Second Miss Chen, not someone to mess with.

“Dreamy!”
Shen Mengke had waited nearly two hours for filming to wrap.
The sky was dark.
Hearing her name, she looked up to see Xu Shinian, out of costume, waving.
“Let’s go.”
Shen Mengke nodded, finishing the last bite of her bread, standing to greet Sunny behind Xu Shinian.

Turning, she saw Jiang Ranran talking to Sunny, their conversation unclear.

Xu Shinian was a classic industry rich kid—well-connected, generous, but with a shaky reputation.
In this business, a bad rep was easy to earn.
A bit of contact with anyone sparked endless rumors—Shen Mengke was living proof.

She climbed into Xu Shinian’s car.
Xu handed her a black velvet box.
“For you.”
Shen Mengke froze, accepting it with both hands but not opening it.
“What’s this?”
Xu smiled.
“Open it.”

Shen Mengke hesitated, then lifted the lid.
Xu turned on the car’s interior light for her to see.

She froze.
Inside was a brooch, similar to Chen Yanxing’s but different.
It was an orchid, like Chen Yanxing’s, but its design—structure, diamonds—was distinct.
This one was black, flashier than Chen Yanxing’s white, understated piece, but it looked cheaper.
Comparison revealed the gap—Chen Yanxing’s felt worth its rumored 790,000 yuan.

Her thoughtful pause looked like stunned awe to Xu Shinian.
Smiling modestly, Xu said, “Our first collaboration.
You’re a spirited actress.
I like you.”
There it was again—spirited.
The industry’s default praise when they had nothing else to say, dodging her actual work.
To Shen Mengke, it felt like a jab.
She smiled, saying nothing.

Xu didn’t notice her unease, continuing, “It’s a Yaozhou membership brooch.”
Yaozhou, a private club—Shen Mengke had heard of it, seen stars and influencers flaunt photos from there, but never got in herself.
They treated entry as a status symbol, as if it elevated their worth.
And truthfully, those who got into Yaozhou were different.
It was invite-only, strictly members.

Shen Mengke glanced at Xu, then the brooch, hesitating.
She wanted to refuse—members could bring guests, no need for her own membership.
But before she could speak, Xu leaned in, plucked the brooch from the box, and pinned it to Shen Mengke’s chest.
They were close.
Shen Mengke caught the heavy scent of Xu’s perfume, sharp and overpowering.
She frowned, holding her breath.
Looking up, she met Xu’s eyes, brimming with predatory intent.
In that moment, Shen Mengke felt like prey, and Xu Shinian, a seasoned hunter.
She dropped her gaze, avoiding the intensity.

Since joining the crew, Xu had been overly friendly.
Shen Mengke saw it but didn’t reciprocate.
Actors were masters of performance—she couldn’t always tell what was real.
When in doubt, she kept her distance.
She preferred raw honesty, like Chen Yanxing’s—dislike was dislike, like was like, no pretense so convincing it blurred truth.

Words of refusal stuck in her throat.
She only managed a quiet, “Thanks.”

She couldn’t deny her ulterior motives.
Beauty meant nothing in this industry without resources.
She needed a stepping stone to a bigger stage.
Xu Shinian was one.
So was Chen Yanxing.