Chapter 15 : Broken Dreams and Tangled Hearts

Shen Mengke had just relaxed when her phone rang—Fan Shi.
Her heart skipped, sensing trouble.

“Sister Fan?”
“Not interrupting?” Fan Shi asked, knowing Shen Mengke was at the gala, where mistakes weren’t tolerated.
“No, what’s up?”
A pause, then a sigh.
“The director just told me Ask the Heart is halting production.
Script issues.
Sunny’s already processing the termination with the company.”
The world went silent.
The music downstairs faded like bursting bubbles.
Shen Mengke gripped her phone, staring at the window.
The city lights, once vibrant, blurred as if smudged by an unseen hand.
Her heartbeat, her breath—everything stopped.
She couldn’t react.

“Dreamy?
Dreamy?
You there?”
Fan Shi’s voice snapped her back.
“Yeah, I’m here…”
“Sunny reached out to me first.
She said it’s a shame about you.
If you want, she’ll recommend you to other directors.”
“Other…” Shen Mengke’s eyes dropped, lashes casting shadows, hiding her emotions.
She paused, then said, “No rush to terminate.
Sister Fan, can you get me a meeting with Sunny?”
“Meeting?
Sure, but the termination’s done.
The boss pushed it through.”
“So fast?”
Shen Mengke’s voice cracked.
Impossible.
She’d pored over her contract with Chen Yanxing—a mere jest compared to this.
A deal this big, finalized so quickly?

“Why tell me after it’s done?”
She frowned, angry.
Fan Shi faltered, helpless.
“Sunny contacted me first, wanted your input, but the boss stepped in…”
“I didn’t tell her anything.
I don’t know how she knew, but if she’s involved, it’s not just the script.
While the buzz hasn’t started, getting out now is best for you.”
“Get out?
How?”
“Dreamy, listen to me.
I won’t steer you wrong.”
Fan Shi knew Shen Mengke’s tenacity—she’d dig to the core of any issue.
But the boss wouldn’t talk, nor would Sunny.
Staying out of it was the smart move.
Shen Mengke went quiet.
She understood, just hadn’t processed.
“Fine, I get it.
Please arrange the meeting with Sunny.”
“Got it.”

Hanging up, Shen Mengke sat blankly in the lounge.
Mid-production halts weren’t unheard of, but outright cancellations?
Rare.
A drama’s prep—casting, funding, planning—was immense.
Sunk costs were too high to just stop.

Three reasons could kill a project:

1. A lead actor’s scandal.
   But no one had crashed and burned, not enough to tank the set.
   She’d just seen Xu Shinian, supposedly on sick leave, downstairs.
   For a new drama like Ask the Heart, swapping an actor was easy.
2. Director team issues.
   Unlikely.
   Sunny’s crew, tight-knit for years, had risen from obscurity to acclaim.
   Script problems?
   Rewrite it.
   A vetted, table-read script didn’t justify cancellation.
3. No money.
   Impossible.
   Sunny’s clout brought investors, Xu Shinian pulled in more, and Shen Mengke’s company chipped in too.

The more she thought, the worse her headache.
She slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, the ceiling light piercing her lids, forming a hazy glow.
It felt like solving a murder mystery with no clues—a Sherlock playing a fool.

Her real fear wasn’t Sunny, the drama, or the cast—it was herself.
She wasn’t young in the industry anymore.
Roles were narrowing, and offers had dwindled over the past two years.
Fading before shining?
She opened her eyes, waving a hand before her face.
In her prime, yet the path ahead was gone.

Her phone rang again—Fan Shi.
“Sister Fan?”
“Two things.
Got you a meeting with Sunny, day after tomorrow.
And… the boss signed you for a variety show.”
“What?
I said no—”
“Hear me out.
You passed up scripts for Ask the Heart, and now you’re in a dry spell.
Sunny’s referrals might not pan out.
You’ve been off the public radar for a year, save for trending scandals.
You need exposure, traffic.
Actors don’t have to shun variety shows.”
Shen Mengke went silent.
“I get it.”
“What show?”
“A dating show.”

Shen Mengke stood abruptly, forgetting her sprained ankle.
Pain shot through as her foot hit the floor, nerves screaming.
She gasped, collapsing back onto the sofa.

“You okay?” Fan Shi asked, alarmed by the sound.
“Fine… twisted my ankle.”
Shen Mengke propped her foot up, wincing as she touched it.
“Didn’t we agree no shows like that?
I’m gay—put me on a dating show?”
“I said the same, but the boss insisted.”
“Why?
Men make me nauseous.”
Fan Shi sighed.
“Money.
Bear with it.
I’ll try to get you out halfway.”
“Fine.”

Words couldn’t capture Shen Mengke’s mood that night.
She stayed in the lounge until the gala ended, never rejoining.
Three calls came.
The last was from an unknown number, but she recognized the voice instantly.
Shu Yun, who dominated screens at seventeen, won Best Actress, then left at twenty-three due to illness, never returning.

Shen Mengke’s heart raced, replaying her words:
“I’m coming back.”

Du Junyi found Shen Mengke first, asleep on the lounge sofa as the gala wound down.
Thinking, she called Chen Yanxing.
“Sister Junyi?”
“You forgot your fox spirit, Taoist.”
She hung up.
Chen Yanxing, stunned, laughed.
Who’d guess poised Du Junyi loved teasing with nicknames?

“What’s up?” Ren Zhou asked, noticing her expression.
Chen Yanxing chuckled.
“She’s calling me to catch a demon.
Head back first.”

Du Junyi had left by the time Chen Yanxing reached the lounge.
Shen Mengke was still asleep.
Standing over her, Chen Yanxing’s shadow fell across half her face.
No wonder she hadn’t seen her all night—thought she’d left.
Hesitating to wake her, Shen Mengke’s eyes snapped open.
The sudden gaze startled Chen Yanxing, who stepped back.

Shen Mengke frowned.
“You’re blocking my light.”
Chen Yanxing laughed.
“Miss Shen, gala’s over.
Heading down?”
Shen Mengke jolted awake.
“Over?!”
Chen Yanxing nodded.
She sighed.
A whole night, wasted.

Chen Yanxing glanced at the heels and Shen Mengke’s bare ankle.
“How’d you get here?”
“My friend drove me.
Left me the car.”
“You driving like that?”
Shen Mengke laughed.
“Even with good feet, I wouldn’t.
I can’t drive.”
Her tone was playful, teasing.
She smiled brightly, like joking with a friend, but before Chen Yanxing could respond, Shen Mengke beckoned.
“Come here.”
Chen Yanxing hesitated, leaning in.
Shen Mengke hooked her neck, pulling her close.

Soft lips brushed Chen Yanxing’s cheek.
She froze, eyes wide, breath stilled.
Shen Mengke whispered, “I’m in a bad mood tonight.
Indulge me, okay?”
Warm breath grazed Chen Yanxing’s nerves, her lashes trembling.
She saw tear tracks at Shen Mengke’s eyes.
She’d cried.

“Okay.”
The word squeezed from Chen Yanxing’s throat, bypassing thought or heart.
Her heart shook, unsure if agreeing was right or wrong.

When two people without emotional ties collide, only desire drives them—endless, ravenous desire.
The gala left them both sour.
Chen Yanxing had carried Shen Mengke in; now they ended up at a hotel.
Heels and slippers stayed at Yuechen.
Shen Mengke, barefoot, was set on the bed—tossed, perhaps, though Chen Yanxing wasn’t rough, nor tender enough to call it gentle.
Shen Mengke sat, the mattress dipping and rebounding.
She didn’t move, arms still around Chen Yanxing’s neck, pulling her closer.
Looking up, the ceiling light dazzled her, blurring Chen Yanxing’s face.

A hand grazed her cheek, a rough thumb wiping under her eye.
Chen Yanxing asked, “Crying over what?
We haven’t started.”
Shen Mengke sneered, yanking Chen Yanxing down, biting her neck.
Tears slid into her mouth, mixing with the bite’s sting.
Chen Yanxing winced but didn’t pull away, gripping Shen Mengke’s waist, kneeling on the bed, biting her shoulder in return.
Shen Mengke paused, then deepened her mark.

They tore into each other like venting beasts, no care for their partner, only raw lust.
From bites to kisses to bare skin, the ceiling light didn’t just blur Shen Mengke’s eyes—it blurred Chen Yanxing’s too.
Shen Mengke laughed suddenly.
“Feels like we’re animals…”
Her words cut off as Chen Yanxing silenced her with a kiss.

Only beasts ignore feelings, ravaging partners without care.

Their second time was deliberate, unlike the first’s accident.
This time, secrets laced every moment.
Shen Mengke had hers; Chen Yanxing had hers.
Even in bed, neither gave fully.

After, Chen Yanxing asked, “Good?”
“Good,” Shen Mengke said.
“Happy?”
“Not happy.”