Chapter 23: The Girl Who Played Too Perfectly
Shen Muyan had acted with dozens of women before.
He knew how to separate emotion from performance.
He knew how to read between the lines, when the tears were real and when they were rehearsed.
But this new actress—Lin Yao—was something else.
She smiled just the right amount.
Cried on cue.
Laughed like a dream, like a scripted fantasy.
Too flawless.
Too controlled.
Too fake.
The director shouted, "Action!"
Lin Yao turned to him, tears glistening, voice trembling with practiced fragility.
"Even if you never love me back… I'll keep loving you. I'll wait forever."
Her eyes shimmered with heartbreak.
The crew sighed. One of the camera assistants muttered, "God, she's good."
But Shen Muyan didn't react.
Because as she spoke those words, all he could think was—
Zhaoxi never cried like that.
She cried when she thought no one was watching.
Lin Yao's grief was beautiful.
Zhaoxi's grief was real.
"Cut!"
The director clapped. "Perfect, Lin Yao! You're a natural. Muyan, great chemistry there."
Shen Muyan forced a nod.
Lin Yao beamed. "Thanks, Senior Shen. Working with you is like a dream."
He smiled politely.
But inside, he felt hollow.
Later, during break, he went searching for her.
Her—the one who had stolen his peace and refused to admit it.
He found Lin Zhaoxi in the old storage hallway behind the stage, sitting on a stack of lighting crates, scrolling blankly through her phone.
She didn't even look up.
"Here to congratulate your new co-star?" she said flatly.
"Here to check if you've eaten," he replied, matching her tone.
She blinked, surprised.
Then: "I'm not hungry."
"You haven't been hungry in three days."
Silence.
He leaned against the opposite wall, folding his arms.
"You hate her, don't you?" he asked
Her eyes flicked up, sharp. "Who?"
"Lin Yao."
She didn't answer.
But her fingers tightened around her phone.
He continued, softly: "She's playing a role. But she doesn't know how to bleed."
That made her flinch.
She looked away. "What does that even mean?"
He didn't push. Just said, "You once told me people can only act for so long before they become someone else. I think… you became real. And she didn't."
Her throat closed up.
He still saw her.
Even when the world was trying to erase her.
That night, back at her apartment, the System struck again.
System Alert: Emotional thread has been reassigned. Host visibility index: 38%.
You are being phased out. Comply, or initiate system override.
Zhaoxi stared at the glowing red text.
Being erased. Like she never existed.
Like everything she fought for—felt—was a glitch to be corrected.
And yet…
She didn't feel afraid.
She felt furious.
"I've played your game long enough," she whispered.
She reached for her laptop.
Started typing.
A message.
A secret cache.
A trail.
If she was going to disappear, she'd leave something behind.
Something he could find.
Something the System couldn't erase.
You wanted me to be the villainess?
Then I'll be the one that breaks your story apart.