Shen Chen said, “If we really find something, don’t hesitate to kick the person out of the production.”
He knew that some crew members were “connected” people—some had even been introduced by investors. Yu Jingming was often forced to turn a blind eye to their actions. By saying this, he was giving Shen Chen a heads-up.
Chi Yan appreciated his words and said, “Then I’ll have to trouble you both. Thank you.”
“No need to be so polite,” Yu Jingming said. “This is my responsibility. However, we’ll have to wait until filming is done before looking into this. Chi Yan, are you still able to continue shooting?”
“I can endure it.”
Yu Jingming sighed. “That’s tough on you.”
Chi Yan’s upcoming scenes only involved lying in bed, so they weren’t too demanding.
She filmed a scene with Ou Yang, and both of them performed smoothly without mistakes. The take was approved quickly.
After she finished, Yu Jingming reminded her to head home early.
“Go back and get some rest. You don’t have many scenes left. If you have time, consider visiting a hospital. If anything’s wrong with your health, the production will cover the medical expenses.”
“Thank you, Director. I’ll head home now.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” Shen Chen offered. “I don’t feel like staying on set anyway.”
Chi Yan was slightly surprised but quickly responded, “Then I’ll trouble you.”
Shen Chen hadn’t brought his driver today, so he was driving himself. He pulled his car up in front of Chi Yan and waited for her to get in.
She hesitated for a moment but eventually opened the front passenger door.
Sitting in the back would feel disrespectful, especially since Shen Chen was essentially half her boss now. It wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Where do you live?”
Chi Yan obediently gave him her address and added, “If it’s out of your way, just drop me off at the intersection. I can take a taxi home.”
“It’s on my way, don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t leave a woman to take a taxi home alone late at night,” Shen Chen said as he entered her address into the GPS.
In reality, their homes were in completely opposite directions, and the distance was quite far. It was already 9 PM, and dropping Chi Yan off would take until about 9:30. Then he’d need another 40 minutes to drive home. Fortunately, the roads weren’t congested at night—otherwise, he wouldn’t get home until 11.
Chi Yan sat in the car, unsure of what to say. Shen Chen remained silent as well.
It wasn’t until they stopped at a red light at an intersection that Shen Chen broke the silence. “Is filming tiring?”
Chi Yan was a bit surprised by the question. She replied, “Not really. Acting is just a job, after all.”
“This was my first time visiting a film set,” Shen Chen commented. “I never really cared much about the other film projects my company invested in.”
“Now that you’ve seen it in person instead of on-screen, does it feel less impressive?” Chi Yan asked.
Shen Chen replied, “Not necessarily. Watching it live has a different charm.”
He suddenly noticed a Yuelongjia dessert shop on the side of the road and said, “I’m going to pull over and buy something.”
Chi Yan nodded. “Okay.”
After the light turned green, Shen Chen parked in a designated spot, got out, and walked straight into the dessert shop.
He returned soon after, carrying two beautifully packaged bags.
Placing the bags in the back seat, he said, “Alright, let’s go.”
Chi Yan remarked, “I didn’t expect you to be into desserts.”
“I’m not. My mom likes them. I’m visiting her tomorrow, so I thought I’d bring her something.”
“I see.” Chi Yan smiled. “My mom likes sweets too.”
“Really?” Shen Chen said naturally. “Then take a bag with you.”
Chi Yan declined. “That wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“I bought two bags specifically to give you one,” Shen Chen said. “My mom can’t eat too much sugar. If I take both home, my dad will definitely nag me about it.”
Chi Yan hesitated. She wasn’t the type to owe people favors. After a moment’s thought, she said, “Then how about this—when we go out for the meal we talked about after I wrap up filming, I’ll choose the restaurant.”
“You can’t treat me separately?” For some reason, Shen Chen didn’t like the idea of being lumped together with Yu Jingming in Chi Yan’s plans.
Chi Yan thought for a moment and said, “Alright. But I have a competition coming up, so I’ll be busy for a while. It’ll have to wait.”
“That’s fine. When you become famous, treating me to a meal will have a whole different meaning.”
Chi Yan chuckled. “I’ll take that as a good omen.”
As they approached a familiar neighborhood gate, Chi Yan spoke up. “Shen Chen, you can drop me off at the entrance up ahead.”
Shen Chen pulled over and reminded her, “Don’t forget to take a bag.”
“I got it. See you tomorrow,” Chi Yan said before getting out of the car. “And thanks for the ride.”
The next morning, Chi Yan filmed a few minor bedrest scenes. In the afternoon, it was time for her final scene.
The last scene for Princess Jiayin required complex emotions. Yu Jingming was concerned that Chi Yan might not be in the right emotional state, so he rescheduled her scene to later in the day to give her time to prepare.
Qiu Sisi was envious. During a short break, she came over to chat with Chi Yan. “Lucky you, finishing today. Ou Yang and I still have a lot left to shoot.”
Chi Yan reassured her, “Once you get busy, time flies by. When you finally wrap up, you’ll find yourself missing the days on set.”
She said, “You and Ou Yang should stay in top form. You might even be able to finish ahead of schedule.”
At that moment, Yu Jingming called out, “The Empress, take your position!”
Qiu Sisi let out a long sigh and said to Chi Yan, “I’ll head over then. I won’t disturb you—take your time to prepare.”
“Mm, good luck.”
In truth, Chi Yan had already memorized her lines flawlessly and had a deep understanding of Princess Jiayin’s character. She was ready to perform at any moment.
But she respected the director’s arrangements.
After reading the script’s ending, she understood why Yu Jingming had chosen her for the role at first sight.
Her performance during the preliminary competition happened to align perfectly with the final scene of the character—both innocent and full of cunning.
Such a role was difficult for young actors to handle. Many tended to overact, making it unconvincing. But Chi Yan had grasped the right balance.
Her mind was flooded with thoughts, replaying Princess Jiayin’s life story.
Once she fully immersed herself in the role, she turned to Yu Jingming and said, “Director, I’m ready to perform.”
Coincidentally, they had just finished a previous scene. Yu Jingming checked the time—it was about right—so he asked the crew to hang in there a little longer.
“Let’s finish this scene and then take a break! All departments, get ready!”
“Action!”
Princess Jiayin sat at the main seat in Changchun Palace, waiting for the Empress to arrive. She had already discovered the truth—that the Emperor had poisoned her.
Although he had promised that as long as he remained on the throne, he would protect her maternal family from harm, she didn’t believe him.
Before her death, she had to do something.
Just then, the palace servants announced, “Her Majesty, the Empress, has arrived!”
Princess Jiayin straightened up, her eyes fixed firmly on the doorway.
When the Empress entered, she said, “Your sister greets you. My health is not well, so I’m unable to bow. I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
The Empress replied, “Of course not. Why did you summon me? Has the Imperial Medical Bureau not been tending to you properly? I can have them questioned at once.”
“No, please don’t blame them, Sister. I just have a feeling that my days are numbered, so I wanted to speak some heartfelt words to you. Would you mind dismissing the others?”
The Empress glanced at Consort Xian, noting her sincere expression, and agreed. “Leave us. I will have a private conversation with Consort Xian.”
“Please, Sister, have a seat,” Jiayin invited, gesturing to a seat beside her. “Sister, don’t you suspect that my illness isn’t truly an illness?”
The Empress said sternly, “Are you delirious? How could you say such a thing?”
Jiayin smiled at her. “You are the only one in the palace with any sincerity left. I wouldn’t say this to anyone else. I’m not sick—I’ve been poisoned.”
The Empress’ expression turned serious. “Do you have proof?”
“The palace maid serving me was chosen by my father—she is trained in medicine. Some time ago, she noticed that my symptoms were unusual. Eventually, she found something suspicious at the bottom of my medicine bowl.”
Jiayin handed the Empress a small packet.
“The evidence is here. If you don’t believe me, you can investigate it yourself.”
The Empress hesitated for a long time before finally accepting it.
“The one who poisoned you… was His Majesty?” She was reluctant to accept this truth.
“Yes. That night, I saved his life. He feared that my family would use this as leverage to seek more power, so he decided to get rid of me. And there’s more—the fertility medicine he gifted me actually prevents pregnancy.”
As Jiayin spoke, her heart ached, and tears streamed down her face. “He guarded against me to this extent! Sister, I’m telling you this so that you, too, will be wary of the Emperor.”
The Empress stared at her in shock. Jiayin’s words struck her like thunder, leaving her in a daze.
“The Emperor’s heart is as unfathomable as the deep sea. Sister, you once helped me. I don’t want to see you fall into his trap. Every word I have spoken is the absolute truth—I would never deceive you.”
Jiayin’s coughing grew worse, and the Empress hurriedly said, “Enough, don’t get agitated.”
She stood up and poured a cup of tea for Jiayin.
After taking a sip, Jiayin said, “Thank you, Sister. I’ve said all I needed to say. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. You should return to your palace now—I won’t be seeing you off.”
“Don’t grieve too much. Be careful not to worsen your health.”
Jiayin forced a smile and shook her head. “I’m not sad. Not at all.”
As the Empress left, she turned back for one last glance at Jiayin’s tear-streaked face, her heart deeply shaken.
Jiayin’s maid rushed in, panicked. “My Lady, what’s happening to you? I’ll bring you your medicine!”
Jiayin paid no attention. She sat alone in her chair, looking toward the direction the Empress had left, and smiled—a sincere, genuine smile.
In the end, before the maid could bring her the medicine, her vision blurred, and she collapsed onto the nearby table.
In her final moments, she dreamed of the time before she entered the palace. She passed away with a smile of happiness.
“Cut! Congratulations, Princess Jiayin has wrapped up her scenes!”
Yu Jingming walked over to Chi Yan and handed her a red envelope. “Take this to ward off bad luck.”
It was an unspoken rule in the industry for directors to give actors red envelopes after they played characters who died in a production. Chi Yan accepted it without hesitation.
“I feel like I got too deep into the role, Director. I need a moment to recover.”
Leaning against the nearby table, Chi Yan propped her head up with one hand, trying to steady her emotions.
