Chapter 89: The Carefree Princess

After the awards ceremony ended, Gu Yao drove straight home. On her way back to the set after attending the grand event, Lin Xi received a script file from Zhou Xin, who also left a message saying that the production team was excellent—truly the best in the industry—so she should consider it at ease and see if she liked the role.

Curious, she opened the script, intending to thoroughly examine this high-budget production.

The film, “Chronicles of the Ethereal,” is set in the fictional world of the Ethereal Dynasty and tells the story of a power struggle among several royal families.

The leads had already been decided: both were veteran actors of the highest caliber in China. The role Director Fan offered her was the daughter of the villainous Sacred King of the Second Dynasty—the most esteemed Princess Wuyou of the Sacred Clan, a character dazzling yet steeped in tragedy.

She was of noble blood, breathtakingly beautiful, innocent and lively, blessed with an enviable status. Yet this very identity became her lifelong prison. From her coming-of-age ceremony onward, she was swept into the game of fate she was powerless to resist, manipulated by her father throughout her life. Though she longed for freedom and the world beyond, she could never escape her destiny.

During a royal gathering, she accidentally fell into the water and was rescued by the male lead of the Huang Clan, the ruling family of the First Dynasty. She fell in love with him at first sight, and from then on, she trailed after him.

The Sacred King, her father, eager to strengthen the Sacred Clan’s power, secretly encouraged this attachment, hoping to use his daughter to forge an alliance with the formidable Huang Clan and dominate the entire Ethereal Continent. Unexpectedly, the First Dynasty had no interest in an alliance and rejected them outright, giving them no face at all. Enraged, the Sacred King married his daughter off to the prince of the Ling Clan of the Third Dynasty—she had no power to resist.

She understood that, as a princess of the Sacred Clan, her only duty was to fulfill her mission—traded like an object to a foreign court, wedded to a man she had never met.

Later, the Sacred King and the King of the Ling Clan conspired to wipe out the Huang Clan in one blow. But the Huang Clan had already secured powerful allies and instead crushed their enemies. The Sacred King was beheaded on the spot. Upon hearing this, Princess Wuyou broke down completely, forced to grow up overnight. She returned alone to the devastated Sacred Clan, shouldering the future of her people, while her dearest love became her eternal enemy.

She could never fly free again. Yearning for liberty, yet forever bound by duty to this small realm—what a cruelly ironic title she bore! Named “Wuyou,” or “without sorrow,” yet she withered away in sorrow, sacrificing love to safeguard her shattered dynasty alone.

Lin Xi finished reading the tragic life of Princess Wuyou while still on the road, deeply moved by how fate had toyed with the princess. Her heart was unsettled for a long time. One thing was certain: she was determined to take this role!

This script was incredible—even her supporting role was so vivid and brilliant; let alone the grandeur of the entire film. Audiences now demand much more from dramas, no longer infatuated with domineering CEOs or arranged marriages blossoming into love. Only innovative works with distinctive characters can capture people’s attention—viewers want to see vibrant personalities emerge from intricate, turbulent storylines.

This film would surely meet every expectation.

Princess Wuyou had only five or six scenes in total, and her main counterpart was undoubtedly her father, the Sacred King. Lin Xi glanced at the cast list: this role was played by the veteran Song Anhe, whose reputation she had heard—he was said to be aloof and exacting on set.

The Sacred King was cunning, ruthless, and fiercely ambitious—a man who would do anything for profit, even sacrifice his beloved daughter’s happiness. In the end, he was destroyed by his own pursuit of power. The director’s casting was impeccable; Song Anhe truly exuded that cold-blooded aura.

For some reason, Lin Xi felt certain that acting in this film would bring her invaluable experience. Such opportunities were rare—a chance to spar with veteran actors excited her just at the thought.

The moment Lin Xi returned to the set, she told Sister Zhou she would accept the film and they could now discuss the contract.

Lu Yuxiu hurried over as soon as she returned, naturally overhearing their conversation.

“What’s this? You go out for an awards ceremony and come back with a new role?” Lu Yuxiu was quite surprised at the young woman’s knack for landing opportunities.

“Of course, I didn’t seek it out myself—I barely know anyone,” Lin Xi replied, aware he probably wouldn’t believe her. She lifted her chin with a hint of pride, “The director came to me!”

“Really?” Lu Yuxiu raised a brow. “Which director?”

“It’s Director Fan Xie, the one Director Lu introduced to me last time.” He was leaning against the table, so Lin Xi had to tilt her head slightly to look at him.

Upon hearing it was Director Fan, Lu Yuxiu finally relaxed. He’d been worried she might be deceived.

But then a thought occurred to him. Lu Yuxiu sat across from Lin Xi, met her gaze, and started firing off questions one after another: “What role are you playing? Who are your scene partners? Is there a romantic subplot? Any intimate scenes? Can you ask the director to cut them?”

He rattled off his questions with a straight face, then swallowed hard.

Lin Xi listened to his rapid-fire interrogation, utterly dumbfounded.

Was this really the cool, composed “God Xiu”? The character just didn’t fit!

“Are you… possessed or something?” Lin Xi gaped at him, tentatively poking his cheek.

Lu Yuxiu was momentarily speechless. His resolute face stiffened, and, embarrassed, he lowered his head. He seized her mischievous little hand, fidgeting with it, then retaliated by poking her cheek, mock-threatening: “Well? Are you going to answer or not?”

“Hahaha!” Lin Xi burst out laughing, entirely unrestrained. Who would have thought “God Xiu” could be so naive and childish? She truly had found a treasure.

Lu Yuxiu, annoyed by her laughter, reached out to tickle her, making Lin Xi dodge and twist away, unable to stop giggling.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!” Lin Xi surrendered, clutching her aching stomach. “I’m playing a supporting female role—the villain’s daughter. My main scene partner is the veteran Song Anhe as the main villain. No intimate scenes. Report complete!”

She even gave a playful salute. “Awaiting your orders, Commander!”

Lu Yuxiu couldn’t help but smile at his beloved’s antics. He gently lowered her raised arm, satisfaction filling his heart. “That’s good, then.”

Lin Xi waved her hand dismissively and said with a heroic air, “Don’t worry—I’m playing a ruined princess, doomed and tragic. There’s no time for romance.”

“Well… sweetheart, in the future if…” Lu Yuxiu hesitated, a trace of conflict flickering through his usually icy eyes, but in the end, he didn’t voice the question.

Of course, Lin Xi understood what he wanted to ask. She had thought about it herself. Right now, her co-star was Xiu, so there was no issue, but what would she do if she had to film intimate scenes with someone else in the future? By the same token, as his girlfriend, she’d feel uncomfortable if Lu Yuxiu ever had to shoot such scenes with another actress.

But as an actress, these things were inevitable. She was grateful that, since his debut, Xiu had always stood his ground and never filmed a kissing scene, saving both his first kiss and first on-screen kiss for her—and to this day, he hadn’t had any such scene with another actress. She wanted to uphold that for him as much as possible.

Lin Xi could make no absolute promises, but she spoke to him with heartfelt sincerity: “If I have to do intimate scenes in the future, I’ll do my best to negotiate with the director, or use camera tricks. If all else fails, I’ll just have you come be my stand-in!”

She closed her eyes, rattling off every solution she could think of.

Lu Yuxiu listened, the smile in his eyes growing deeper. He pinched her fair, delicate cheek, then wrapped an arm around her slender waist and pulled her into his embrace. His voice was low and steady: “Sweetheart, keep your word.”

He clung to her like a puppy, and Lin Xi’s heart melted. She answered softly, “Mm.”

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The next morning dawned bright and cloudless, sunlight washing the world in gold.

The “Polaris” crew was rushing to finish on schedule. The staff had been busy since before daybreak—just two scenes remained before the wrap.

Lin Xi felt again that strange, indescribable atmosphere that always settles over a set in the days before the final shoot.

The set was ready, the actors had rehearsed, and everyone stood in position, waiting for the call to action.

This scene was set in H Country, where Qin Zexing was leading his team in the World Cup tournament. Against all expectations, they lost, and were immediately condemned by everyone. In an instant, the once-lauded “God of War” became a public pariah, utterly crushed.

Yan Mei’s crisp voice came through the walkie-talkie: “Everyone, stay sharp! Let’s try to get it in one take—we’ll do close-ups later.”

“Okay!” The actors patted their own cheeks and shook themselves awake, determined not to let a single lapse ruin the shot.

“Places, everyone! Three, two, one—action!”

On stage, the host was devastated, microphone in hand, and could hardly believe it: “They actually lost?! T&K lost to H Country’s team—how is that possible?”

“Nice! Good!” Cheers erupted from the H Country spectators, while the T&K supporters groaned in disappointment.

“What was that play? Qin Zexing totally dragged the team down—ruined everything!”

“I told you Qin Zexing wasn’t up to the task! Embarrassing—now we’re a laughingstock abroad.”

“What’s wrong with that guy? Chokes under pressure, or is he just not that good?”

Mu Beibei sat in the audience, hearing every word. Her face went pale, as if plunged into an icy lake, the chill seeping through her entire body. She had never expected this defeat.

The big screen seemed to take a perverse pleasure in replaying T&K’s crushing loss. The unexpected failure left the team unable to lift their heads, each member drooping like a frostbitten leaf, their spirits utterly withered.

On the screen, Qin Zexing sat with his head bowed, radiating utter despair, as if he had lost the courage to face the world.

At that moment, Qin Zexing could hear nothing. His heart felt soaked in briny seawater, his blood as cold as rain. He could not accept this failure—how could he have lost? How could he possibly lose!

“Congratulations to H Country’s team for defeating T&K and becoming the reigning World Cup champions!” The announcement boomed, sealing T&K’s defeat for the world to hear.

Qin Zexing was left in utter despair. It felt as if his heart were being scraped raw by a sharp file. He looked up at the audience, the packed house, the dim lights, the mocking laughter of the H Country fans, the jeers of those who once supported him. Everything seemed at once so vivid and so blurred, until darkness fell and nothing remained.

Mu Beibei’s eyes filled with tears as she watched Qin Zexing on the big screen. She felt a sharp pain in her chest, her whole body shuddering in anguish. Every insult and scorn from the crowd branded her heart like a red-hot iron.

Qin Zexing, numb and dazed, stood and left. Mu Beibei hurriedly grabbed her bag and rushed out after him.

He stepped outside, where Jiang Yuan’er was waiting anxiously. When she saw him, she hurried up. “Zexing, are you all right?”

The sky was overcast, the sun already gone in the late afternoon. The wind was mild but carried a biting chill, making everyone’s mood all the more bleak.

He walked on, step by step, numb to her voice, as if he hadn’t heard her at all.

Jiang Yuan’er watched his lonely, desolate figure but did not follow.

Mu Beibei caught up just then, spotting Qin Zexing ahead and about to hurry over, when Jiang Yuan’er stopped her.

“Don’t go yet,” Jiang Yuan’er said, also watching his retreating back. “Give him some time.”

Mu Beibei hesitated, stopping in her tracks. She felt restless, as if her heart were alternately on fire, drowning, or crushed by a heavy stone—never at peace for a moment.

How had things turned out like this…