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The director of Twelve Years of Dust was named Wen Zhi, a relatively well-known figure in the domestic film industry. Su Ling had just finished getting her meal at the university cafeteria when she received his call.
Wen Zhi was a very gentle person. His only flaw might be his tendency to “read the room,” a common habit in the industry—but that was understandable. Everyone had their own survival strategies.
When he informed Su Ling about filming in Sanhu Town, she nearly dropped her chopsticks.
Director Wen said, “There’s an offering ceremony this afternoon, followed by the pre-shooting meal. Can you make it to Sanhu Town?”
Most TV dramas held rituals to pray for smooth production and high ratings, offering incense and sharing a meal before filming began.
In her past life, Su Ling hadn’t attended such a meal. She had been brought into the production midway, unaware that she had unintentionally taken the role meant for another actress—Ruan Dai.
The crew resented her as an outsider, but no one dared to offend Qin Xiao. Their complaints were whispered behind her back.
At the time, Su Ling thought they simply didn’t like her. It wasn’t until later that the original actress, driven mad, pushed her off a cliff during filming.
That fall broke her leg. The cliff wasn’t deep, but the foggy mountain was drenched in rain. The pain was unbearable, and with winter setting in, she feared infection would leave her dead at the bottom of the cliff. Dragging her broken leg, she crawled under a rock to take shelter from the rain.
She wasn’t sad—just in pain.
When the pain numbed her senses, she wished she could pass out.
But just as she was about to lose consciousness, she heard someone calling her name.
Su Ling’s face was pale, too weak to respond.
He stumbled toward her, removing his coat to wrap her in his arms.
Su Ling had never seen Qin Xiao look so disheveled. His thin lips had lost all color, making him appear more lifeless than she felt.
His embrace was cold, and Su Ling’s consciousness began to fade.
Her last sensation before blacking out was a drop of water landing on her eyelid.
Warm, scalding.
Perhaps when the pain became unbearable, hallucinations set in. Since when did rain have warmth?
After that incident, her leg was permanently damaged. She walked with a limp and could no longer dance, let alone act.
She didn’t hate him, nor did she hate the actress who pushed her. They were far more pitiful than she was. She hated no one.
She only longed to go home, to the blooming kapok tree behind the old house.
That was Su Ling’s first attempt at acting—and also her last.
Twelve Years of Dust lost Qin Xiao’s funding and wasn’t produced the following year. No one dared mention it; no one could withstand the wrath of a furious Qin Shao.
Su Ling herself never brought it up.
Twelve Years of Dust was both her shattered dream and her terrifying nightmare.
But aside from her reborn self, no one knew.
Seeing that the girl on the other end of the line remained silent for so long, Wen Zhi grew confused. What was going on? Everyone he personally called to offer a role was usually thrilled and immediately accepted. This didn’t feel right—was she planning to refuse?
The more Wen Zhi thought about it, the more uneasy he became, fearing the call would abruptly disconnect.
But then the girl softly asked, “Director Wen, has the production already chosen someone for the role?”
Director Wen replied, “No, casting was originally scheduled for next year, but we’ve decided to start filming early. Your audition went well, so we’re giving you the role of Jiuli.”
“Jiuli?” Su Ling was surprised—it wasn’t Ruan Dai?
Director Wen thought to himself, Yes, Young Master Qin specifically requested Jiuli.
Jiuli was a virtuous character, innocent and endearing, while Ruan Dai was the antagonist, though she had more screen time…
But none of that mattered. What was important was that Jiuli had no ambiguous scenes.
Su Ling knew this decision was inseparable from Qin Xiao. She should have refused.
But thinking of her grandmother lying in the hospital bed, her cloudy eyes still glowing faintly with hope, she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
She could wait for opportunities, but could her grandmother?
Su Ling decided to accept the role.
Changing from Ruan Dai to Jiuli was already a shift.
Another reason she decided to give it a try was that if she couldn’t even protect her own legs, how could she save Yun Bu’s life?
Even if she could evade her fate, Yun Bu, who knew nothing, couldn’t.
Su Ling didn’t eat a single bite of her meal. She immediately took a car to the production site.
It was a five-hour drive from her university to Sanhu Town. She couldn’t let others wait for her.
Embarrassingly, after paying for the ride, she was left with only two coins in her pocket.
Su Ling lamented that she might be the most unfortunate person to ever be reborn—a refugee-level existence.
Currently, Su Ling owed 580,000 yuan, not to mention her grandmother’s future medical and nursing expenses—all of which fell on her shoulders.
She pitied herself, thinking, I’ll have to grit my teeth and act anyway. At least… there will be boxed meals on set.
When Su Ling arrived, the hotel in Sanhu Town was already bustling with people. Most were actors who had participated in Twelve Years of Dust in her past life, but she didn’t see the actress who had pushed her.
The butterfly effect was subtle yet powerful.
Because in her past life, everyone avoided her—they couldn’t hit her, scold her, or touch her—so Su Ling was currently unfamiliar with everyone.
However, wearing a dress and before she could introduce herself, the lead actress stood up, her eyes shining brightly. “Oh my gosh!”
Su Ling froze, and then the lead actress, Wan Baibai, rushed over and ruffled her hair.
In her past life, they had kept their distance, treating her coldly. Su Ling was bewildered by Wan Baibai’s sudden affection. What she didn’t know was that in her past life, her mysterious benefactor’s reputation was so intimidating that even Wan Baibai hadn’t dared to touch her.
Director Wen watched nervously but didn’t intervene.
Su Ling was currently just a “newbie college student actor.” He couldn’t show any unusual behavior that might reveal she had powerful backing.
Wan Baibai was completely captivated by this adorable girl with her neat bangs. Goodness, she’s so freaking cute! Though Wan Baibai appeared aloof and ethereal, it didn’t stop her from having a girlish heart. She dreamed of being as cute as Su Ling!
Standing awkwardly, Su Ling didn’t know what to do. Even Wan Baibai’s assistant couldn’t bear it and hurried over to pull her boss away. “Miss Wan, stop fooling around. This is a production set.”
Others looked on speechlessly. Where was Wan Baibai’s aloof persona?
Finally calming down, Wan Baibai allowed Su Ling to introduce herself. “Hello, everyone. My name is Su Ling, and I’ll be playing Jiuli in the drama. Please guide me, seniors.”
Her attitude was respectful and sincere, leaving a good impression on most of the crew.
Wan Baibai was ecstatic. Jiuli! In the drama, Jiuli was the sweet little junior sister of the female lead! Director Wen, fearing Wan Baibai might cause further trouble, reminded himself silently that this place belonged to someone else. Perhaps the person on the top floor of the hotel was watching.
Director Wen said, “Alright, is everyone here? If so, Miss Wan and Shen Yi can go outside to offer incense, and then we’ll take photos.”
Su Ling walked at the back, blushing as she fixed her hair. She felt a bit shy. Why was everyone treating her so differently from her past life?
Everything had been prepared in advance, so the pre-shooting banquet began in the evening.
The banquet was scheduled for 7 p.m., ostensibly hosted by Director Wen, but in reality…
Wan Baibai, straightforward and outspoken, exclaimed, “Director Wen, are pre-shooting banquets always this lavish now? Hahaha, you’re really generous!”
Director Wen: “….”
Su Ling sat in the corner. She hadn’t eaten lunch and was starving now, eating slowly and delicately. She looked especially obedient. Being young, those around her took extra care of her, ensuring she had enough food by constantly serving her dishes.
Su Ling had never experienced such attention and shyly thanked them.
As the group ate and chatted, they got excited and started clamoring for drinks. Director Wen glared. “What drinking? We’re shooting tomorrow morning!”
Director Wen didn’t carry himself with authority, so the group laughed it off, brushing the matter aside with a few casual remarks.
Sanhu Town was clearly more prosperous than Yun Bu’s production site. Everyone received room keys to the hotel.
This was an ancient town, and many were filming here for the first time. Accustomed to nightlife, and with dinner ending at 9 p.m., they wanted to explore.
Director Wen waved dismissively. “Be careful. Those with assistants, take them along. If anyone is late tomorrow morning, I’ll break their legs!”
The group dispersed. Wan Baibai had intended to approach Su Ling but was stopped by the male lead. Tomorrow’s scenes were mostly theirs, so they needed to review the script. Reluctantly, Wan Baibai gave up.
Su Ling had no intention of going out. Her university self-study ended at 9 p.m., and she usually slept before 10 p.m.—a very easygoing lifestyle.
If not for the accident in her past life, she might have lived longer than anyone.
She used to fear Qin Xiao touching her, so she went to bed at 8 p.m. But this bastard returned at 2 a.m.… and woke her up…
Holding her room key, Su Ling took the elevator. From the buttons, she learned the hotel had nine floors, but everyone was staying on the seventh.
Not overthinking it, she entered her room, showered, and planned to read the script before sleeping.
At exactly 9:50 p.m., there was a knock on her door.
Before she could ask who it was, her phone lit up.
Only two words appeared on the screen: [Open the door.]
The number looked familiar. Recently, she had considered blocking it. Her heart tightened with panic. She knew nothing good could come of this! A man like him wouldn’t help her for nothing.
Su Ling didn’t dare open the door. Outside, the knocking continued leisurely, accompanied by the ringing of her phone. Terrified, she turned off her phone.
But the shutdown sound rang out loud and clear.
Qin Xiao couldn’t help but laugh. That move was just… adorably against the rules.
Su Ling was on the verge of tears from embarrassment.
Knowing she couldn’t hide anymore, and cherishing how the crew treated her now, she couldn’t afford any connection with Qin Xiao becoming public knowledge. But if he kept knocking, it would become obvious to everyone.
Just as Su Ling was about to open the door, a realization struck her, and she quickly looked down.
The hotel provided slippers. Her feet, pale and delicate, looked even whiter against the dark green slippers.
Afraid the person outside would grow impatient, she broke into a nervous sweat. Frantically searching through the cabinets, she found a pair of disposable socks and quickly put them on before opening the door.
Qin Xiao was a head taller than her, looking down at her. “Turned off your phone? Bold move.”
She curled her toes, caught red-handed, her cheeks flushed. “It… it ran out of battery.”
Qin Xiao’s lips curved upward.
Why was she so bad at lying? And why didn’t she hold grudges? Just recently, he had made her so upset, yet here she was again, standing cutely before him—innocent and endearing.
His heart softened.
If creation had a favorite, it must have bestowed all its blessings upon her. No wonder she looked down on him.
He sneered softly. It didn’t matter if she looked down on him. Who could blame him for being wealthy, powerful, and shameless?
He said, “Su Ling, do you know gratitude?”
Su Ling looked at him, puzzled.
He smiled. “Did they teach you to sing The Heart of Gratitude in school?”
She nodded obediently, her eyes wide with confusion.
He leaned closer, chuckling softly. “Little Jiuli, how will you repay your benefactor, hmm?”