Chapter 46: Can You Help Me with the Script?

Her fingers danced nimbly, and soon the sound of victory echoed. Messages flashed across the screen once more.

“Boss! You’re my boss! You dropped offline for a few minutes and still led us to triumph. Amazing!”

“Boss, do you need any apprentices? Or even little brothers? I may not be dashing, but I’m at least presentable…”

Too many words, too much chatter. Yun Fu slapped her phone face-down onto the table. Just then, Lian Hanqi opened the food containers and, noticing she’d put down her phone, naturally handed her the chopsticks.

“We ate at a friend’s restaurant this time. The food was pretty good. I brought some for you to try. If you like it, I’ll bring more next time.”

Yun Fu took the chopsticks and looked at him deeply.

Meeting his gentle gaze, she lowered her head and picked up a bite of food, placing it in her mouth.

Throughout the entire process, Lian Hanqi watched her with tender eyes.

“Is it good?”

“Not bad.”

“I’ll take you there next time.”

“Mm.”

This meal, as with the previous ones, Yun Fu ate while Lian Hanqi sat beside her, watching.

Whenever she picked up her phone, he’d say, “Eat properly, don’t play with your phone.” When she’d eaten enough, he’d push the soup toward her: “Drink some soup, don’t choke.”

It was as if he were caring for a child. Anyone who knew Lian Hanqi and saw this scene would surely think he’d been possessed by another soul.

Yet Yun Fu took it all naturally. After eating, she patted her stomach, lay contentedly on the sofa, and picked up her phone again.

The sound of the game resumed.

Lian Hanqi shook his head helplessly. “Don’t lie down right after eating—it’s bad for your stomach.”

Yun Fu glanced at him, uttered a noncommittal “oh,” and continued anyway.

She was just a stubborn child.

At that moment, Yun Fu’s phone rang.

She answered. Something was said on the other end. After hanging up, Yun Fu’s expression was a little uneasy, which Lian Hanqi immediately noticed.

He picked up the yogurt he’d brought, inserted a straw, and handed it to Yun Fu as he softly asked, “What’s wrong?”

Yun Fu took the yogurt, sipped slowly, and looked up at him. Her eyes were like twin moons, casting a shadow, breathtaking in their beauty.

“Are you… busy?”

“This is my break time now.”

Lian Hanqi felt a flicker of anticipation, a feeling rare since his youth.

Then he heard Yun Fu, still uneasy, ask, “Can you help me rehearse the script?”

There was a hint of concealed irritation in her words, as well as an emotion she couldn’t quite describe.

Lian Hanqi hadn’t expected her dilemma to be this, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course.”

Two minutes earlier, Yun Fu had answered a call from Qiao An, who said, “Xiao Fu, Mr. Lian is with you, right? Ask him to help you rehearse your scene. Tomorrow, the crew will have media visiting for interviews. The director just added a bit to your role—it’s a scene with the male lead. Make the most of it. If Mr. Lian can’t help, I’ll come over and rehearse with you.”

One “tool” at hand, one “tool” who’d have to travel—she naturally chose the former, and thus her earlier question.

In truth, Yun Fu didn’t need to rehearse. With her acting, a single glance could command the stage.

But just now, inexplicably, she asked anyway.

So now, Yun Fu handed the script pages Qiao An sent to Lian Hanqi, leaving her own hands empty.

The character Qian Xuan had no romantic subplot, but her deepest bond was with the male lead.

The director had added a scene—one that revealed Qian Xuan’s helplessness and the reason why, in the end, both the male lead and the readers would be left with unresolved feelings.

Lian Hanqi sat across from Yun Fu, watching her expression shift—just as if she’d become another person.

Her gaze, powerful yet tinged with confusion: confusion towards the world, towards life, towards the future.

Her voice was hollow. “I’ve done so much, tried to leave traces of my existence, but now I see I’m just a speck of dust in this vast world. My life and death—no one cares.”

The next lines belonged to the male lead.

Now, it was Lian Hanqi’s turn.

He looked at the girl before him. At that moment, he felt he was not seeing Yun Fu, but the Yun Fu from his dreams.

Strong, yet fragile.

He memorized the script at a glance, but now, the words came from his heart.

He said, “I will care.”

That line wasn’t in the script. Yun Fu turned to him, and her gaze met eyes as deep as the night sky, as gentle as moonlight.

She nearly drowned in them.

“To this vast world, you and I are mere dust,” his gaze resolute and tender. “But to me, you are not. You are above all else. You should always be proud, always strong, and forever… unfallen.”

“In the world we share, you are irreplaceable. If you disappear from this world, I will search for you—never resting, never giving up.”

The male lead’s feelings for Qian Xuan were complex: respect, admiration, even love—a reverence, and the adoration a young man feels for a dreamlike woman.

But the boy would grow up; the dream woman could never become his lover.

Yet when these words came from Lian Hanqi’s mouth, something seemed to change.

His eyes were so earnest. He wasn’t reading lines—the words sounded as though they were his own.

They were Lian Hanqi’s words to Yun Fu.

In that moment, Yun Fu could hear her heart beating faster.

Neither spoke to break the silence.

It was Yun Fu’s turn for lines, but, unusually, she forgot them.

She blinked, her eyes filled with rare confusion—not Qian Xuan’s confusion, but confusion from warmth.

Lian Hanqi felt a pang in his heart. He reached out and gently ruffled her soft hair.

He sighed softly, then looked at her with exceptional seriousness. “Yun Fu, don’t disappear. Many people care about you.”

It was as if he knew she didn’t belong to this world, and feared she might leave at any time.

Yun Fu spoke slowly.

“These things have nothing to do with you.”

Lian Hanqi glanced down—it was a line from the script.

“But from the moment I met you, I knew that your matters—I must care about them. Impulsive or foolish, at least I cannot let myself regret.”

In the novel, the male lead still regretted; he lost Qian Xuan.

But in reality—

Lian Hanqi looked at the girl before him, and he was certain he would never let himself regret. He had enough strength to shield her beneath his wings.