Chapter 8: Back Hug

On set, in the resting area, Duan Lin was on a call with his agent Guo Bin.

“This incident likely wasn’t orchestrated by An Zhuoqian. I’m familiar with her style—she rarely engages in reverse marketing like this,” said Guo Bin. “After today, Ruan Yu might gain a bit of exposure, but she’ll also be blacklisted by your fanbase. Not worth it.”

“Mm.”

“But it’s strange. The hotel you’re staying at is known for its privacy. It’s supposed to only accommodate crew members. Usually, even fans and reporters who stalk people in Hengdian can’t get past the elevators. How did this footage get taken?”

Duan Lin took a sip of coffee. “I have my suspicions.”

“I’ll look into it once the heat dies down. By the way, is Ruan Yu bothering you? Do you want me to send over another assistant to keep an eye on her?”

You couldn’t blame Guo Bin for being so wary of Ruan Yu—any manager would be protective if their artist got entangled with a drama-prone heiress.

Duan Lin replied coolly, “No need. She can’t stir up much.”

After Ruan Yu’s unexpected scandal, An Zhuoqian and the PR team scrambled in chaos for a while. Once the response plan was ready, An Zhuoqian called her.

“I’ve spoken to Duan Lin’s team. We’ve also obtained the hotel’s surveillance footage. A clarification will be issued shortly.”

Ruan Yu knew An-jie must’ve had a headache over this. “Thank you, An-jie. Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s nothing. As long as there’s no actual dirt, gossip like this isn’t always bad. Sometimes public attention can convert into popularity.”

Ruan Yu replied, “I understand. That’s how hype works.”

“Good,” An Zhuoqian sighed, her tone turning stern. “I know you like Duan Lin, but if you’re going to pull a publicity stunt, you have to consider timing and target. If anything like this happens again, you must discuss it with me first.”

Ruan Yu replied, humiliated, “Understood.”

No! She never wants to be in another fake romance scandal ever again!!

Both teams acted quickly. Within half an hour, the trending topics were taken down, studios issued clarifications, and the official account of The Hopeless Pursuit of Fame released nearly five minutes of security footage. The video showed no physical contact between Ruan Yu and Duan Lin. Later, Duan Lin’s assistant Shao Li arrived to hand her a script, and they parted ways.

Even Guan Baonian, who rarely posted on Weibo, joined the fun, joking: “Someone told me this morning that Ah Lin got exposed in a romance scandal last night. I thought, why didn’t he tell me? Turns out it was fake news. Got mad for nothing.”

The well-known director’s post drew supportive comments from celebrities, all subtly clearing Duan Lin’s name.

Right after, the official film account posted Ruan Yu’s character styling photo, clarifying that the woman in the video was a minor actress in the crew and tagging her newly created personal Weibo.

The high-res, expertly retouched photo featured Ruan Yu in a form-fitting qipao, her delicate features accentuated by a striking tear mole. Her beauty stood out with a unique allure.

An Zhuoqian had played her hand well. Riding the lingering buzz of the false scandal, she successfully introduced Ruan Yu to the public.

Onlookers realized it had all been a harmless misunderstanding—a bit part actress asking to borrow a script, only for sleazy paparazzi to blow it out of proportion.

With the story reframed as an unfair media smear followed by a stunning reveal, attention began to focus on Ruan Yu herself.

【Whoa, is this face for real?! I’m switching fandoms!!】

【Is she newly signed with Shangying? Where did they find this goddess?? A ten-year fan is reporting for duty [doge]】

【The insults from earlier were really harsh. This was clearly a misunderstanding. Poor pretty girl.】

【Just a few hours ago Duan Lin fans were tearing her to shreds. Aren’t you gonna apologize now?】

【Apologize for what? I’m done with dumb men who fall for every manipulative green tea girl. She clearly rode his coattails for fame—totally worth it, ok?】

Ruan Yu suddenly remembered the pristine script lying on her bedside table. She finally realized why Duan Lin had sent Shao Li to deliver it the night before.

He had sensed someone was taking secret photos of them.

Ruan Yu was shocked. Did he think she had staged it to get them caught in a fake scandal?

The trending topic had already shifted. Lin Qing logged into Ruan Yu’s Weibo and reposted the official clarification, tactfully stating that “she” and Duan Lin were merely professional colleagues, and that “she” held deep respect for his work ethic and professional skills, and would strive to learn more in the future.

The post received a moderate number of comments and shares, but the private messages were another story altogether.

In just under a minute, Ruan Yu’s inbox was flooded with over a thousand private messages from Linjiaos, all filled with insults.

Lin Qing, who had previously only worked with veteran actors and had little experience with fandom culture, was completely stunned: “What did I even say to get cursed out like this?”

“It’s too much. Way too much.” Ruan Yu leaned over to glance at the screen. “What’s with that ‘strive to learn more’ line? If I were one of Duan Lin’s fans, I’d be praying this woman never appears in the same frame as him again. In fandom terms, what you just did is called ‘desperate clout-chasing.’”

“…Why is she roasting herself like this?” Lin Qing thought incredulously.

But Ruan Yu remained unfazed. At this point in her life, she had money, looks, and, apart from a suffocatingly inconvenient husband she got on a technicality, there was nothing that could really take her down—unless she died again.

She was just about to dive into the script when two new WeChat messages broke the silence.

Ruan Yu opened them.

One was from “Dr. Gao, Psychiatrist”:
[When will you come in for your follow-up appointment?]

The other, from “Chief Chen, Cardiac Surgery”:
[Miss Ruan, have you decided when you want to schedule your surgery?]

Ruan Yu stared: “…What the hell?”

What was this, some kind of cursed prophet power she had?

—

That night, Ruan Yu had a scene to shoot in the indoor studio.

Before that, she’d gone through her script several times. Her character was a blind woman with relatively few scenes, spread sparsely across the schedule—it’d take about two weeks to finish filming all of them.

Hair and makeup done, Ruan Yu waited off to the side, clutching a delicate handkerchief and wiping away invisible tears of resilience.

Just two weeks. Just two weeks, and she wouldn’t have to see Duan Lin again anytime soon.

As the old saying goes: husband and wife are but birds in the same forest—when disaster strikes, they fly their separate ways.

Lin Qing walked in with several bags of coffee: “Xiao Yu-jie, the coffee’s here.”

“I’ll pass. You can hand them out to the crew,” Ruan Yu replied.

The drama from this morning’s trending scandal was still fresh. In the bustling studio, Ruan Yu had become the focus of everyone’s attention. People were clearly watching her, but instead of showing the slightest embarrassment from being cussed out by Duan Lin’s fans, she cheerfully had her assistant buy coffee for the crew. Everyone looked at their coffee, then at each other—the gossip died down quite a bit.

Lin Qing gave a motherly, relieved smile. He hadn’t expected the pampered young miss to be so good at handling people.

Once the set was ready, Assistant Director Zhang Zhong spoke a few words into his walkie-talkie, and ten minutes later, Guan Baonian and Duan Lin entered from outside the studio.

After checking over the set, Guan Baonian called out to Ruan Yu, “Ruan Yu, ready? Come on, do a quick rehearsal with Ah Lin to get into character.”

Thinking about the scene to come, Ruan Yu wanted to die.

That morning, the assistant director had informed her that her scene schedule had been changed—her intimate scene with Duan Lin was now the very first one.

Guan Baonian grinned, “Perfect timing. Everyone’s still gossiping, so let’s feed the flames with some drama from the drama. Better than letting them get nothing after all that buzz, right?”

Everyone on set froze for a second, then broke into laughter.

Though it sounded like a joke, his words were clearly helping clear up the rumor and also reminding everyone not to take tabloid gossip too seriously.

Ruan Yu caught the subtext and silently mocked: No wonder Duan Lin is the industry’s golden boy. Even with a mountain of bad press about acting like a diva, the director still treats him like a precious gem.

At that moment, Duan Lin emerged from the makeup room, his gaze toward Ruan Yu calm and emotionless. “Let’s begin.”

The set had already been styled to look like a backstage opera house. Lights and cameras were ready.

In this scene, Ruan Yu’s character, the courtesan Su Wan, confesses her love to the male lead, including an intimate back-hug—initiated by her.

With all eyes on her, Ruan Yu clenched her jaw, delivered her lines, and forced herself to wrap her arms around Duan Lin from behind.

The moment her hands touched him, her scalp nearly exploded.

She could clearly feel the contours beneath her palms—taut and warm. Through the thin robe he wore, she was almost sure she’d just felt his firm abs.

She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was low, rough, filled with pain and restraint: “We… shouldn’t see each other again.”

As he delivered the line, the muscles under her hands subtly tensed. It hit her half a beat late—this guy wasn’t just the nemesis she’d been trashing online for years. He was also, goddammit, a seriously well-built man.

Then Duan Lin’s long, slender fingers came up and gently enclosed her hands around him.

If Ruan Yu had fur, it would’ve stood on end.

Question: What goes through your mind when the rival you’ve been dragging for years suddenly clasps your hand?

Answer: Ambiguity? Hell no! She was pretty sure he was about to crush her fingers for all those years of keyboard-warrior slander.

“Cut for a moment,” came a voice from behind the monitors—Guan Baonian, speaking into his walkie-talkie. “The vibe is off. Ruan Yu, at this point you should be feeling really emotional. You’re too stiff. Adjust and try again.”

Duan Lin dropped the character instantly, returning to his usual aloof self. He glanced at Ruan Yu and returned to his seat.

The next few rehearsals didn’t go much better.

After a few more failed takes, even Zhang Zhong couldn’t hold back anymore:

“Your expression’s off—what happened to body language? That hug is so half-assed it looks like you’re measuring his waist. Put some heart into it!”

“Why’s your neck so stiff—pulled a muscle? Press your cheek to his back! Yes, like a potsticker—stick tight!”

“Stop looking awkward. I know jumping straight into an intimate scene is tough, but right now, Duan Lin is someone you deeply love. Take a look at yourself—could anyone believe that?”

After the initial awkwardness, Ruan Yu used the next break to ask Lin Qing to buy late-night snacks for the whole crew. She sincerely apologized to everyone, one by one, and then the shoot resumed.

After running through her lines, she closed her eyes and steeled herself, then reached around to hug Duan Lin from behind.

She kept hypnotizing herself.

Storms and rainbows, strong-willed roses—no matter the sorrow, no matter the pain, carry it alone. However bitter or hard it gets, you must face it head-on!!

Right now, she was hugging the person she loved.

Those abs, those sharp lines—those belonged to her beloved Ji Linhao. She was holding her idol in a reenactment of Titanic!

Shockingly, the self-hypnosis actually worked. Ruan Yu began to get into character.

On the monitor, the courtesan embraced the elegant yet world-weary man from behind. Though her eyes were vacant, her gestures were filled with longing and tenderness. Her fingers twisted into his robe, lingering across his waist and abdomen as if she couldn’t bear to let go, sensual desire implicit in every motion.

Guan Baonian finally nodded in approval. “Okay, that’s a wrap for this take. Take five, then let’s get one more for safety.”

Ruan Yu quickly pulled her hands away.

Assistant Shao Li rushed over and handed Duan Lin a bottle of water. “Brother Lin, are you okay?” He looked like his precious cabbage had just been ravaged by a pig.

Duan Lin took the water, then turned to glance at Ruan Yu. The usual indifference in his eyes now carried an unreadable undertone.

“Had enough of feeling me up?”

“…”

So he really thought she kept flubbing takes just to grope him?

Ruan Yu held it in—then couldn’t. “Your nar—” cissism is really out of control, huh?

“You care too much about the camera,” Duan Lin interrupted.

“What?”

“Filming and taking photos aren’t the same. How the shot turns out, what angle the scene uses—that’s the cinematographer’s job. If he can’t capture the right feeling, that’s on him. But if you can’t express the feeling, that’s your problem.”

Ruan Yu was momentarily stunned.

Duan Lin… was teaching her how to act? Could it be… he was scared from being hugged?

But before she could process her tangled feelings or thank him with something suitably diplomatic, Duan Lin leaned in and continued, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear: “You’re not suited for this industry. And there’s never going to be anything between us. Just a few pages of overlapping scenes—don’t take it too seriously.”

Ruan Yu: “…”

Yeah, screw saying thank you.

…

The courtesan Ruan Yu played only appeared in the male lead’s flashbacks, so her scenes were minimal and relatively easy. She stayed on set for three days, then took advantage of a two-day break to fly back to Beijing.

First stop: the best cardiac hospital in the city.

Meeting her was Director Chen from the cardiology department—the same one who messaged her on WeChat a few days earlier.

After a brief chat, Ruan Yu learned that the former Miss Ruan had been living with a severe congenital heart condition that had left her on the brink of death for years, undergoing constant treatment.

Director Chen handed her a report. “Based on the last tests, you have a large ventricular septal defect, with severe left-to-right shunting. It was treated, but it’s relapsed—and now it’s at a stage where surgery is unavoidable. Still, I’m glad to see you’re doing well at the moment.”

“What do you mean?”

Director Chen sighed but didn’t answer directly.

“Are you saying I’m in danger? Then—how much longer can I live?” Ruan Yu looked as if she’d been struck by lightning, struggling to process the news. “But I haven’t felt any discomfort recently…”

Director Chen sighed again. “Let’s do another round of tests. I’ll finalize a treatment plan as soon as possible.”

Leaving the hospital with a bag of medications, Ruan Yu’s face was pale and her steps unsteady.

Lin Qing hadn’t returned with her this time. Waiting outside was Ye Mengmeng, who ran up the moment she saw her. “Xiao Yu-jie, what happened to you?”

“…I’m fine. For now.”

Ruan Yu slumped against the car seat, looking weak as a dying patient, then suddenly straightened up. “Don’t go back to the apartment yet. I need to see someone.”

There was one more person she had to meet—the former Miss Ruan’s psychiatrist.

The car stopped at a high-end clinic in the heart of the city.

Ruan Yu had made an appointment. A clinical assistant led her through a quiet hallway and knocked on the counseling room door.

“Dr. Gao, Miss Ruan is here.”

“Come in.”

Ruan Yu entered. The room was warm and filled with soft light. A gentle-looking man in a white shirt sat on the sofa. He looked up, adjusted his glasses with a soft smile, and gestured toward the seat opposite. “Sit down.”

“Xiao Yu, how have you been lately?”

If he’d asked her that before the hospital visit, she might’ve casually replied with “pretty good.”

But now? “I don’t know. I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Dr. Gao Yihan nodded and asked again, “Has that woman who frightens you been in contact with you lately?”