Chapter 6: A man’s tears slid down his jaw, clinging to her…

Though Lu Hui had adopted a “lying-flat” attitude, she still had to work.

Lin Tong took her to a variety show taping. Including her, there were six guests in total. The rest were all trending celebrities at the height of their fame.

Lu Hui didn’t take the initiative to greet anyone. She’d been through enough awkward moments of reaching out and being ignored.

The stars of the fame game certainly didn’t have time to care about a minor character like her.

Lin Tong acted like a social butterfly, trying to network everywhere, but no one really paid him any attention. They pretended not to hear him or even see him.

Frustrated, Lin Tong ran back to Lu Hui. “Damn, such snobs.”

It felt like he’d gone out of his way just to get humiliated.

Lu Hui soothed him. “Don’t be mad, don’t be mad—getting sick from anger won’t help anyone.”

She took a calm sip of hot water and added reasonably, “I’m not popular. It’s normal if people don’t want to talk to you.”

Besides, the way those people looked at her was full of offense.

The scandal about Lu Hui’s official statement was still hot news. Nosy people had that certain curiosity, and watching a joke unfold in person was always more satisfying than reading about it online.

But she didn’t look nearly as haggard as they’d imagined. In fact, she didn’t seem to think she’d been through anything shameful at all—her composure was striking.

At 12:30 p.m., the variety show ran a full rehearsal before the live broadcast.

Lu Hui barely had a chance to speak. The host mostly focused on the headliners of the episode, only letting her do a brief self-introduction at the start—and that was it.

The live taping had to be flawless, no mistakes allowed.

Lu Hui sat on the sidelines for two hours and didn’t feel tired, just a little sleepy. A host and a well-connected guest had droned on for almost an hour, and she could tell even the audience looked like they were dozing off.

Maybe the showrunners noticed too, because someone backstage sent a huge cue card to the hosts, urging them to wrap it up.

“Alright, now let’s move into the next segment, our highly anticipated ‘Classic Scene Reenactment’ game!” the host smoothly transitioned.

Lu Hui perked up from her drowsiness and secretly yawned—only for the director’s camera to land on her at that exact moment.

The live comments (danmu) immediately shifted from praising the popular stars to cursing her.

“Did she just roll her eyes?”

“Looks like it.”

“How rude!”

“Why did the director even invite someone like her? She’s not worthy of sharing the stage with our queen.”

The comment section exploded, but thankfully the director quickly cut away.

Lu Hui was paired with a newly popular young actress to reenact a famous scene from a hit palace drama.

The young actress didn’t seem hostile. “Were you sleepy just now? You looked like you were about to doze off.”

It sounded like she was trying to lighten the mood in the studio, but in truth, she was trying to boost her own image by stepping on Lu Hui’s small mistake.

Lu Hui nodded seriously. “Yeah, I was a bit sleepy just now.”

The young actress was momentarily speechless.

Even the host looked awkward.

But the live audience totally related. That earlier game had revolved around a nobody, and listening to her drone on was pure hypnosis.

Honestly, Lu Hui was refreshingly straightforward. She said what others didn’t dare to say—and unintentionally clarified that she wasn’t rolling her eyes at all, just sleepy.

Audience opinion turned quickly—adoration and outrage both came cheap.

Even though she still kind of disliked this serially scandal-prone ex-mistress, she had to admit—this time, the woman had a point.

“I almost fell asleep just now too.”

“Finally, a guest who isn’t fake-smiling. I hope the production team realizes they’re totally out of touch. These games are honestly not funny.”

“Drop a phone number.”

“Drop an ID number.”

“She’s surprisingly blunt.”

“Kinda interesting.”

Before Lu Hui spoke, she honestly couldn’t care less what the audience might think of her.

Right now, she was basically a dried-up salted fish—going with the flow, waiting around to die.

If there was work, she’d do it. If there wasn’t, she’d sleep.

She had no interest in reading anyone’s face, let alone trying to please them.

When it came time to reenact a classic drama scene, the host cued Lu Hui and the young actress onstage.

As soon as the background music started, Lu Hui switched into character immediately, transforming into a consort in a Qing dynasty palace drama. Upon learning the cruel truth, her eyes welled up with tears, which fell silently.

Her lowered eyes brimmed with sorrow. It was like her gaze alone could compose poetry. There was so much unspoken grief in her expression, so full of soul, it overwhelmed her scene partner—the young actress was completely outclassed.

And this was an actress who had actually played proper leading roles before. Now she was being completely overshadowed by someone barely halfway through the acting world—utterly humiliating. After the scene, the young actress’s expression was sour, her frustration bottled up with no outlet.

The live audience was even more shellshocked than the streaming audience.

What the heck?! Could this woman actually be a naturally gifted actress? She didn’t seem like the talentless hack people said she was.

After the show’s live broadcast ended, instead of losing followers, Lu Hui’s Weibo fan count actually went up.

Lin Tong was still shaken. He poked her in the forehead. “You were way too blunt today!!! You almost gave me a heart attack, do you realize that?!”

“How could you just say you were sleepy, straight up, while filming a show? Girl, you’re on camera!”

Lu Hui frowned. “But I really was sleepy. And the audience was even sleepier than me.”

She had never seen such a boring show. How had it not been axed by the network already? Completely absurd.

Lin Tong was instantly speechless.

Because, truth be told, he had been nodding off too.

Still, Lu Hui had acted surprisingly well today. Even the cameraman beside him had stared wide-eyed in shock—and Lin Tong was very satisfied with that.

“You taking a cab home, or should I drive you?”

“You drive me.”

“Alright, fine.”

Lu Hui fell asleep the moment she got into the car. When she woke up and looked out the window, they were nearly at the Sheng residence.

“I forgot to ask—why’d you move back to the Sheng family home?”

Lu Hui answered seriously, “They begged me on their knees, so I decided to be generous and move back—barely.”

—

Xie Ran had gone to the Sheng family home in person, but Lu Hui wasn’t there.

Xu Qin had heard from her husband just how important this Mr. Xie was, so despite her usual arrogance, she was extra polite to him, not daring to offend him in the slightest.

Xie Ran rubbed his temples—he had no interest in beating around the bush. He got straight to the point: “Where’s Lu Hui?”

Seeing his dark expression, Xu Qin thought this Mr. Xie had come to settle some serious scores. Internally, she cursed Lu Hui out again.

As if it wasn’t enough that the girl never did anything useful—she was constantly causing problems for her.

Hiding her displeasure, Xu Qin said, “Mr. Xie, I’ve heard a bit about the foolish things my daughter did. I apologize on her behalf. She’s still young and immature. That’s the only reason she said such ridiculous things.”

Xie Ran cut her off. “When will she be back?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then I’ll wait for her here.”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll have her apologize to you in person.”

After saying that, Xu Qin went out to the balcony to call Lu Hui, her tone obviously harsh. “Can you stop causing trouble for once? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to marry into the Sheng family? Sheng Wei is already dissatisfied with me as it is—are you trying to get me kicked out because of you?”

Lu Hui: “…”

She got cursed out just for answering the phone? Without thinking, she hung up right away.

When Lu Hui got home and saw the man sitting in the living room, she paused mid-step and didn’t move forward.

Xu Qin forced a strained smile and dragged the woman by the door over to the man, saying with a perfectly smooth tone, “Lu Hui, you’re finally home. Come here and apologize to Mr. Xie.”

Before Lu Hui could even figure out what was going on, the man suddenly stood up. Without a word, he extended his long arms and pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice hoarse and trembling. “Lu Hui, do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

Xie Ran’s whole body was shaking. His voice quivered as he spoke. Thinking back on those endless dark days of searching and waiting, his emotions began to unravel.

That voice. That tone.

There was no mistaking it.

It was that damn male lead.

Lu Hui stood stunned in his arms, mouth open, not yet speaking—when half her neck was suddenly wet. His tears had already trickled down his chin and landed on her skin.

She was shocked.

Truly shocked.