After Becoming the Movie King’s Illegitimate Daughter
After Becoming the Movie King’s Illegitimate Daughter Chapter 16

Chapter 16

After the mobilization assembly, Taoli High School’s “Celebrate the 70th Anniversary of the Founding of the Nation” event kicked off in full swing.

As Zhong Yao listened to classmates discussing the performances they were signing up for, she got a glimpse of just how talented students in Beijing could be.

Piano, operatic singing, street dance—students were enthusiastically signing up for all kinds of things. Even stage plays, which she wasn’t very familiar with, had many volunteers.

Before this, Zhong Yao had no concrete idea of the gap between her small-town upbringing and the capital.
But when she heard that even someone as goofy as Tang Yiming had signed up to do a comedy sketch, she finally got a real sense of it.

Zhong Yao wasn’t the type who loved performing, but seeing all her classmates so skilled while she herself knew nothing left her feeling deflated.

“Zhong Yao, what’s wrong?”

He Lingli had just returned from signing up for the group chorus.

“You look a bit down.”

Perhaps trying to cheer her up, she added:

“By the way, are you going to sign up for the National Day performance? If not, how about joining the chorus with me? Pan Da’s doing it too.”

Zhong Yao rested her chin on the desk, tilting her head shyly:

“I don’t really know how to sing… and I don’t have any other talents either…”

He Lingli seemed to suddenly think of something and fell silent.

She had a natural bias toward pretty girls—Zhong Yao was so beautiful, she’d automatically assumed she was multi-talented like Shen Qingqing.

Only now did she realize Zhong Yao came from a small town and likely hadn’t had the resources to take extracurricular classes. She felt a bit guilty.

“That’s totally fine,” He Lingli quickly tried to comfort her desk mate.
“You’re pretty, polite, and diligent. You must have great grades! It’s completely normal not to have performance skills—everyone excels in different areas!”

Yes!
She was certain Zhong Yao must be academically outstanding—how else could she have transferred from a small town to their school?

And sure enough, when grades were mentioned, Zhong Yao’s mood lifted.

She nodded:

“Yeah, like Li Bai said—‘Heaven gave me talent for a reason.’”

Then she gave He Lingli a small smile:

“Thanks, He Lingli. I’ll come cheer you on during your performance.”

Her smile was so radiant, even as a girl He Lingli felt her heart flutter. Overcome with delight, she added another compliment:

“Mhm! And our Yaoyao has such beautiful handwriting—prettier than the Chinese teacher’s!”

Suddenly, He Lingli stopped mid-sentence.

She had just thought of a brilliant idea!

“I’ve got it!”
She hugged her desk mate excitedly.
“Zhong Yao, you can sign up to do the blackboard bulletin!”

Huh?

Zhong Yao turned around instinctively and noticed that Class 9’s blackboard really was filled with content.

She was a little surprised:

“Oh, you’re right. I thought schools in Beijing didn’t really do blackboard displays anymore.”

Taoli High had excellent facilities. From her first day, she’d noticed that teachers used laptops in class, barely touched the blackboards, and relied more on multimedia equipment.

To her, all this was novel—and because even chalk writing had become rare, she naturally assumed the school didn’t bother with blackboard displays anymore.

“Other classes do the bare minimum, but ours is different!”
He Lingli leaned in and whispered:
“You know our homeroom teacher, Mr. Jiang Kexue, right? He’s super old-school and firmly believes blackboard culture should be preserved. That’s why our class updates it every single month!”

She paused, then spoke with growing excitement:

“This year’s 70th National Day celebration means we’ll have to completely redo the blackboard. Yaoyao, your handwriting is gorgeous—of course we should show it off!”

Zhong Yao’s eyes lit up, and to her surprise, she felt a surge of excitement:

“Okay! I’ll go sign up with the arts committee after class. Really, thank you so much, He Lingli.”

Her deskmate laughed at how overly polite she was—thanking her in nearly every sentence—and quickly steered the conversation toward some gossip.

Zhong Yao listened quietly but didn’t get a chance to mention that, back at Yunshui Middle School, she had always been the one in charge of their blackboard displays.

Yunshui Town was quiet, filled with the charm of a Jiangnan water town, but without the crowds of more popular tourist spots. Many art students from the city liked to visit and sketch there.

Zhong Yao’s mother couldn’t afford expensive extracurriculars, so she often sent Zhong Yao to tag along with those older students and doodle or paint. Maybe she had some natural talent—people often complimented her drawings.

There weren’t many outlets for creativity in a small town, so she channeled all that energy into designing the class blackboard displays.

They were time-consuming, messy, and left her breathing in chalk dust. Most kids didn’t want to spend the effort, especially when they could show off their talents in more glamorous performances.

When Zhong Yao approached Yi Ran from the arts committee to sign up, Yi Ran nearly burst into tears of gratitude—without any other volunteers, she’d have had to do the entire board herself.
And when Zhong Yao said she could manage the whole thing alone, Yi Ran immediately promised to buy her milk tea for a whole week.

Zhong Yao found Yi Ran pretty endearing, so in the end, she only accepted one cup.

That evening, Zhong Yao drank the most expensive and exquisite cup of milk tea she’d ever had in her life.

It didn’t have the overly sweet, artificial creaminess of the ones back in her hometown.
The first sip had a hint of saltiness, followed by the tangy sweetness of strawberry syrup with a light tea fragrance. The final touch was the melt-in-your-mouth strawberry chunks.

She glanced at the price tag—30 yuan for one cup. That was enough to buy six back in Yunshui Town.
No wonder it tasted so good!

While mentally making a note to bring Sun Shiwu here one day, Zhong Yao walked to the blackboard at the back of the classroom.
She was determined to design the best blackboard bulletin for the 70th anniversary celebration—she couldn’t let the arts committee’s milk tea go to waste.

When Qi Yu just so happened to pass by Class 9’s classroom, this was the scene he saw:

In the glow of the setting sun, the girl stood by the blackboard, one hand holding a ruler to measure while the other scribbled sketches in her notebook.
Her ponytail was a little loose, and when she lowered her head, strands of hair slipped down over her cheeks. She reached up to tuck them back but ended up smudging chalk dust across her face.

In the golden light, with dust motes drifting through the air, she looked serene and beautiful.

Qi Yu froze in place.

He had come here to find her, but now that she was right in front of him, he suddenly didn’t want to disturb the moment.

Zhong Yao was fully immersed in planning the layout and didn’t notice anyone at the door.

So Qi Yu stayed put, leaning against the balcony railing, waiting.

After about an hour, the girl finally smiled and closed her notebook, stretching her arms overhead.

Knock knock knock—

Qi Yu tapped on the rear classroom door and asked,

“Can I come in?”

Zhong Yao turned her head suspiciously. When she saw who it was, she looked slightly surprised.

He’d promised the discipline director he’d dye his hair—and he had.
The obnoxiously bright white had been replaced with a more subdued dark chestnut brown. Zhong Yao couldn’t quite tell the exact color—just that it wasn’t pure black. It was slightly permed too, giving him the sleek and stylish look of a teen idol.

It took her a while before she finally nodded and muttered,

“It’s not like this is my house…”

Qi Yu, recalling the disaster of bursting into Class 9 uninvited on Mid-Autumn Festival, looked a bit embarrassed:

“It’s the 70th anniversary—I’m learning to be polite, okay?”

Zhong Yao didn’t want to get into that with him. She cut straight to the point:

“You came to see me for something?”

Qi Yu’s expression turned even more awkward. He was silent for a long moment before finally gritting out:

“Did you not see my QQ request last night?”

Zhong Yao blinked in surprise.

So it was about the friend request.

Last night, she’d agonized over it for a long time, then decided to ignore it.
She suspected Qi Yu only wanted to add her to make up for calling her a “illegitimate child”—just like how he had apologized at the Mid-Autumn Festival gala when he’d mistaken her for a crazed fan.

Zhong Yao didn’t think it was necessary.

She wasn’t so fragile as to need constant apologies from Qi Yu.

“Sorry, I went to bed early last night, and today I’ve been so focused on the blackboard design, I haven’t checked QQ.”
She pretended to be unaware and asked,
“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

That explanation seemed to ease Qi Yu’s tension a bit.

Even though his friend request messages were cringeworthy, he still powered through and said,

“I added you. Accept it.”

“Huh?”
Zhong Yao was genuinely surprised.
“You came all the way here… just to add me on QQ?”

That didn’t sound like the Qi Yu she knew.

“No,” Qi Yu immediately denied, but couldn’t think of a proper reason. He just muttered,
“Just accept it first, we’ll talk later.”

Zhong Yao pulled out her phone and tapped around vaguely, then asked:

“Song Shi said you had something to tell me. You can just say it now.”

Qi Yu: …

Why was she always so hard to fool?

Truth be told, he didn’t even know why he wanted to add her.
Maybe he felt guilty for what he’d said yesterday.
Or maybe it was just that Song Shi had her QQ and he didn’t—didn’t that seem wrong, considering he was closer to her?

Qi Yu felt like Zhong Yao had it out for him, but also knew deep down that he’d been in the wrong from the start.

Faced with her persistent questioning, he hesitated again and finally forced out a line:

“My mom told me to.”

…?

Zhong Yao was stunned—she honestly couldn’t believe those words had just come out of Qi Yu’s mouth.

Qi Yu probably found it absurd too, because he quickly added,

“You saw how annoying Xiao Manru was yesterday. Anyone else would’ve been decked by now, but what can I do? She’s my mom—you get it, right?”

Zhong Yao struggled to hold in her laughter as she watched him awkwardly try to cover up his real reasons.

The boy had already gone this far—if she refused now, it would just seem overly dramatic. So Zhong Yao simply pulled up her QR code and said,

“Here, go report back to your mom.”

Getting exactly what he wanted, Qi Yu was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t until their eyes met that he quickly scanned the code.

Her username was surprisingly long—Evening Chimes of YaoYao—but it actually suited her style quite well.

Because the whole adding-friends process had already felt awkward enough, Qi Yu didn’t want to linger on the topic. He put away his phone and changed the subject:

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s almost dark.”
Zhong Yao clapped the chalk dust off her hands.
“You go on ahead. I need to wash my hands first.”

Qi Yu casually followed her:

“It’s not like I can’t wait two minutes.”

Zhong Yao paused, seemingly hesitating to say something.

Even though they had exchanged QQ contacts, she still didn’t want to be seen too close to him at school—after all, his obsessive fans were terrifying.

Qi Yu picked up on her thoughts after a moment of consideration.

“At this hour, not even ghosts are left in school,” he urged her.
“If you don’t hurry up, you’ll get locked in overnight—believe it or not?”

Zhong Yao glanced at the time. It was almost 7 p.m.—students had long cleared out.

“Alright.”
She nodded and sped up her movements.

The two of them walked side by side out of the classroom and stopped at the sink.

Zhong Yao quickly rinsed off the chalk dust and was ready to leave, but Qi Yu unexpectedly tugged on the strap of her backpack. She staggered back slightly, and the space between them suddenly narrowed.

She looked up in confusion—just in time to see—

The boy, with dampened fingers, lightly brushed her cheek with the tips of his index and middle fingers.

The moment the cool fingertips touched her skin, both of them froze.

The air suddenly felt… different.

“The chalk dust on your face was too distracting,”
Qi Yu muttered, then recoiled like he’d been shocked by electricity and took big strides to escape down the stairs.

Zhong Yao stood rooted to the spot. She raised her hand to wipe away the water on her cheek, but thinking of where he had touched just now—she suddenly stopped mid-motion.

“Aren’t you coming?”
Qi Yu looked back, his voice already tinged with impatience again.

She ultimately ignored her face, tugged on her backpack strap, and softly responded,

“Coming.”
Then jogged to catch up.

Behind them, Shen Qingqing and two classmates emerged from the end of the corridor.

She had only planned to take advantage of the good weather to shoot a sunset video on the rooftop with her girlfriends.

What she hadn’t expected was to run into Qi Yu and Zhong Yao walking out of Class 9 together.

“Qingqing, what’s going on here?”
“Doesn’t Qi Yu hate that transfer student? Why are they coming out of the classroom together?”

The two girls were clearly even more surprised than she was.

Everyone at school said Qi Yu disliked Zhong Yao—but Shen Qingqing knew otherwise.

Because the day he had asked her to meet on the sports field, it wasn’t some romantic drama like everyone imagined.
He had only wanted to warn her—not to mess with Zhong Yao again.

He said it was all a misunderstanding. Though Shen Qingqing still didn’t understand what kind of misunderstanding could prompt someone like Qi Yu—who’d always kept a polite distance from every girl since elementary school—to personally step in.

She clutched the hem of her dress until it was wrinkled.

She was far from willing to accept this. She had known Qi Yu first—so why did everything suddenly change just because Zhong Yao showed up?

Shen Qingqing didn’t answer her friends’ questions. Instead, she walked quietly to the window outside Class 9 and peered in.

She wanted to see what reason had kept Qi Yu and Zhong Yao at school so late.

But the classroom looked normal—nothing out of place.

Just then, one of the girls, subdued by Shen Qingqing’s low pressure, suddenly pointed at the chalk marks near the blackboard and said:

“Qingqing, I think I figured it out! I heard Zhong Yao took on the whole blackboard display project for Class 9. Could it be that Qi Yu was helping her with it???”

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